The Baron's Daughter

Prologue: In the Beginning

Fathers. They are the ones that help make you into what you are now. The ones that work hard so that the mothers and children don't have to.

At least, that's what I thought.

Let's start out with a story:

A little girl was born to a Baron in the country of Araluen. Her mother wasn't of noble blood, however. She was a common woman, a serving maid to the Baron.

Soon after her daughter was born, the serving maid was either executed or she ran away.

The girl grew up in a harsh environment. She learned from an early age that the King-Oswald, if I remember correctly-and his son, Duncan, were not to be trusted. She also learned that she was a half-blood, and that she would most likely never be a Baroness.

She was scared of everything, and almost everyone. She was mostly terrified of her father. He was a man who was known to go into violent rages, and, to this day, she still carries the scars of her supposed mistakes.

When she was five, she ran away for the first time, running for her life. She almost made it to the border of the fief she called home, but she was caught. Her mistake that day? Staying in an inn where the innkeeper was a crony of her father. The wife tried to keep the small child hidden, but was killed that day.

That was the worst beating the girl had ever received from her father. She barely managed to crawl to her quarters that night. Her back and chest were bloody, and her dress torn in several places.

She stayed on her best behavior after that, attending social parties set up by her father. She watched as people died, supposedly of some sickness that had taken over them. But she knew the truth: the Lords and Ladies who had died had been poisoned, by a poison her father had paid a doctor to create.

Two years passed, and she was seven. Her scars still seemed as fresh as the day she had received the wounds, even though the servants tried to heal them as quickly-but also as quietly-as possible.

Then she met the Ranger and his Hibernian friend. They met in a nearly-empty tavern, after she had tried to run away from her father again. The Ranger had noticed her from the moment he entered the room, but one of the soldiers, drunk on the ale he and his friends had been drinking, had shoved her under a table and out of sight.

How do I know the story so well? You might be asking. Well, I lived the story.

I'm the little girl who was told she was a half-blood. Who was told that she would never achieve anything worthwhile.

My father? He is the banished Baron Morgarath, former Lord of Gorlan Fief. My old home, or personal hell. I'm happy that the castle was destroyed...

But I'm getting too far ahead of myself here.

My story starts on a warm summer's morning. I don't remember my real birthday, because I never got to celebrate it as a kid. All I remember is what one of the old serving maids used to tell me: "It was a warm summer morning when you were born. Could'a sworn you'd be born in the winter."

That's all anyone would tell me. If I asked where my mother was, they would answer quietly, "She's in a better place, and, hopefully, you will be, too."

But that's a topic for later.

My name is Ranger Emily Meratyn.

This is my story.