Cervato - Girl On Fire (Part 1 of Cervato's Saga)

The Past - Runaway

Late into the evening on the 2nd Day of Scion, 1323 AE, a young woman stood before the grand windows that overlooked the lawn of her home. The white nightgown hung past her knees, sleeves just slightly past her elbows, as if it was just a little bigger than she needed. The cool touch of the window felt good against the palm of her hand as it pressed to the pane of glass. The world beyond her bedroom was dark, barely anything beyond the slight illumination from the main floor below her own.

Her father was probably still in his office, smoking a cigar, working over ledgers full of transactions for the winery. The summer was in full swing, and of course noble families couldn't help but wish to host extravagant garden parties away from the city. An authentic vineyard and winery nestled in the rolling hills of Kessex was too good of an offer. The charm of the Caballero Winery had been bringing in good coin to the self-made family for decades now. Tomorrow would be no different. Another Garden Party, with several eligible young men. Smaller noble houses that would never be able to marry their sons to the higher castes instead would settle for a profitable merchant's daughter with the future prospect of owning the fertile land and the potential of expanding their line of contacts. A better alternative.

Beautiful. Her mother would graciously welcome the guests into their home. The servants would dress in their best finery, gloved fingertips supporting silver platters serving appetizers and only the finest selection of wine. A modest party of families invited to partake in the celebration. To bring in what should be a fun day for any girl. The potential to meet someone new. To help her family continue their business. Perhaps she'd even like one of the suitors. Perhaps he'd smile at her, and not mind that she much rather enjoy wielding a practice sword than talking about the latest fashion. Perhaps he wouldn't mind that she wouldn't laugh at his jokes unless they were actually funny. Perhaps she'd even like that he told her she was beautiful. Perhaps he'd find it humorous that the last time her family tried to betroth her to another noble family's second son, she'd challenged him to duel for her own hand, and beaten him. Her eighteenth birthday was to be an auction for her very life. For her family. For their future.

What of her future?

The young woman turned, removing the fine cotton nightgown. If only her mother and father could see her now as she donned the stolen laundry of one of the maids. Leather leggings and a cheap green blouse. Boots. One sword hung at her hip. The gift from her father. The one that she felt he regretted, as she tugged the twine that bound the sheath to her belt. A simple pack was thrown over both shoulders. Lastly, her eyes were drawn to the wall. Upon it hung the long blade. The gift. The sword she was meant to give to her future husband. A decoration. How jealous she had been that she would never be the one to wield it. Surely it had cost her father a pretty gold coin. It was just going to slow her down. However, her pride won out, and she lifted it from the wall, tying it to her as well. The ornamental sword would be the fnal blow to him.

Her hands unlatched the windows, pushing them out into the warm summer air. Cicadas were beginning to fall asleep, their last farewells fading in the tall grass beyond the rows of the vineyard. The long tangled rope of her bedsheets was anchored to the base of her bed, and she threw it over the ledge. It didn't reach the ground, but it would be enough for her to drop to the yard below. Swallowing her fear, she drew both feet over the ledge, turning to grasp her lifeline. The girl had overestimated her upper body strength. The added weight of the swords surely were at fault. Instead of gracefully climbing down the exterior wall of the winery, the sheets slid between her hands, soon there were none left, and she fell into the hedges below the window that was still glowing from inside. The dining room. Six, she prayed that no one was still present that had seen or heard her. Waiting a moment, the girl winced as she felt the stinging pain of minor cuts or abrasions that ran up her hands and arms. Surely she'd be bruised within the hours.

Quickly, she removed herself from the hedge, ducking low. The girl paid a passing glance back up towards the large dining room window and she nearly froze in place. Her mother was speaking to one of the maids. The girl could hear her heart beat within her very ears. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to leave this all behind? Was marrying a man she didn't love all that bad? Was taking over the winery really that much of a bother? The girl quickly tore her gaze from her mother.

No.

Her resolve was firm.

Cervato was going to fulfill her dream of becoming a Seraph. To do the world good. To serve the kingdom of Kryta and prove herself. She'd become one of the finest swordsmen in the world. Protect people. Save people. No one was going to take that dream from her.

The girl took a deep breath, before running down the worn cobblestone path that soon turned to a downtrodden dirt path through Kessex Hills and away from her past and the future she could never accept.

It would be four long years before she saw her parents again.