Alliance

A Busy Morning

Unlike the people of Caledon, the people of Laochra Riocht do not rise with the sun. For as long as I can remember, I've woken up with the roosters. Everyone in the village has a part to play in keeping the stronghold up and running, so most people work from sun up to sun down to make the most out of their day. As one of the chief's daughters, I was never required to work, but I enjoyed helping villagers in need of assistance complete their tasks. Staying busy has always been a way for me to keep my mind off of things, so having nothing to do feels so...odd.

I decided to take a stroll through the castle not too long ago and haven't seen many signs of life since. Granted, I have passed a few guards at their posts, but they are as stoic as ever so I don't feel as if they truly count. It's not until I reach the kitchen do I see some people with some life in them.

Save for the guards, the only people bustling about right now are a part of the kitchen staff. I pause a moment to marvel at the organized chaos before me. It's truly amazing that not a single person has knocked into anyone given how quickly everyone is scuttling around the kitchen. My eyes roam the room until one person's particularly rapid movements particularly draws my attention more than the others.

Everyone else is working with a partner to complete their tasks except for the lone woman at the back station. The poor thing is slicing and dicing her large buckets of vegetables so fast that you would think that her life depended on it. The setup looks like there is meant to be another person here helping her, but they have yet to show up. I discreetly make my way through the kitchen, wash my hands, pick up one of the extra knives, and get to work on one of the untouched piles of produce. To my surprise, no one has looked up from their tasks to ask who I am as of yet, but some of that can be contributed to their efforts to get the food prepared on time. Cooking for an entire castle worth of people definitely is no easy task nor does it allow for much idle time.

 It isn't until an hour later when a woman takes the bucket of vegetables I finished chopping that someone actually looks at me. It's another hour before my chopping partner and I are put on bread duty. Both of these things come as a surprise to me, seeing that I usually catch the eyes of strangers.

In a land full of people with milky skin, my ebony tone stands out, near demanding attention. My mother is one of the daughters of an African nobleman who has strong trade lines with my father's territory despite the distance. Mother was used as a bargaining tool to guarantee our village would continue trading with them for years to come. She often tells me stories about her treatment during her first few years here, many of those experiences I find myself being able to relate to more than any of my sisters ever could.

I am the only one who inherited our mother's rich skin tone; the rest of my siblings are significantly lighter. Each of my sisters has skin that's peppered with dainty freckles and cheeks light enough to see a blush. They are the most sought after women in our village while I am seen as more of an exotic commodity. Despite this, I take pride in being the spitting image of my mother. She is a woman of beauty, grace, intelligence, and so much more. It is an honor to be of her likeness.

Oh, how I miss my mother.

    It has only been a short time since I left my home, but I can't help but miss mother. After all, she has been my partner in crime ever since I was young. My mother looks no older than I do and is in just as good of shape (if not better, if we are being truthful), so some times we would go galavanting off together in the woods. My father always hated that we did things of the sort, but we had ways of getting around him, much to his irritation. 

  Some days we would leave at dawn and explore the woods around us. We would never take any of my sisters or the guards, just our bows and quivers full of arrows. My father would go sick with worry until we arrived home, the two of us typically covered in twigs, splotches of dirt, and big grins on our faces. Father always fusses at us when we disappear like that, but promptly relents once we show him the spoils of our hunt. He has quite the soft spot for wild rabbits and the two of us have no qualms about taking advantage of that.