Date: 8/29/97 1:35 PM Pacific Standard Time
From: Occurs
The sun beats down upon Summer's head as she stares at the moat, the draw bridge, and the broad stone gray walls of the citadel. A dusty wind swirls around her adding another layer of grime to her already filthy leather vest and travel stained pantaloons while drying the rivulets of sweat on her face and belly. She shifts lightly on her horse, the heated metal of her sword Dragon Cleaver uncomfortably hot against her bare back.
She feels the touch of Jeff's hand on her thigh and looks down to her new husband, already dismounted and reaching up to her. His brown eyes search her face as if to read her thoughts. Smiling wryly she slides down into his arms, wondering again how he manages to look fresh, his purple Lathadoscian shirt immaculant across the stocky frame that betrays his dwarvian heritage. She flashes him a wink, not wanting him to be troubled by the feeling of unease that nags her.
"I luv ya." He breathes in her ear as a young guard in light armor comes out of the shack on the near side of the bridge. A broad grin breaks across the guard's freckled face as he salutes Jeff.
"Hail Knight Marshall." He shouts.
Jeff releases Summer and returns the salute, "Hail Jeremy!"
Jeremy bows smartly to Summer, "Hail M'lady Oakenshield. May I offer my congratulations on your marriage to our commander?"
A faint blush creeps underneath the dirt on Summer's cheek as she nods in return. Jeff stepped forward to give the guard a few quiet instructions, while Summer watches him in awe. So this was the Knight Marshall, so unlike the joking duelist who collected Baron's rings like a boy collecting butterflies. She brushes her mouth with the back of her bare hand; many things would be different now.
As the guard cheerfully leads away their horses, Jeff takes her across the drawbridge. She does not glance back, but in her mind's eye she can see the twisting turning road that brought her to this place. It was not a road to be measured in feet or miles, but to be measured in months - eight long months since the day she snuck into the arena and begged the best duelist she could find to teach her to dance. The best duelist who happened to be a Baron, who happened to have the best dueling record in
the history of DoS, who happened to be kind, who she happened to fall in love with and who happened, blessedly, to fall in love with her.
They passed under the portcullis and entered a large courtyard in which a dozen or so well muscled, half-naked men and women were sparring. Summer's eyes roamed across the Lathadoscian duelers, some of the best in RhyDin. The practice blades feinted and flashed in the afternoon sunlight, their bodies twisting as they lunged and parried. Some she recognized, a few she knew. All of them stopped their exercises and hailed Jeff raising their blades to salute the new couple. Jeff happily greeted them
and even stopping to kiss her to a rousing round of applause.
Summer tried to hide her discomfiture, becoming painfully aware of her lack of grace and manners in their well-bred repartee. She was not of their breed: she was a gutter snipe who somehow snuck into the ball. She gripped Jeff tightly and nodded back, trying to match the graciousness of the welcome. They seemed to be completely at ease with her presence even though she was a member of the house of Dragoon-Tandador and had refused to give up her membership even though she married their Knigh Marshall.
Thankfully Jeff does not linger, but leads her around the side of the largest building in the fortress, the palace. Just before reaching a small side door they pass a wooden platform, about shoulder height with a man shackled to the top. His back is criss-crossed with stripes from a whip and the sunburn on his shoulders is starting to swell and puss.
"I did not take anything." The man mutters to Jeff as they pass. "I was lost, I just got lost."
Arrival at the Citadel
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Date: 8/29/97 1:37 PM Pacific Standard Time
From: Occurs
"Wha' be that?" She asks Jeff, her dark green eyes riveted to the large huddled man.
Jeff shrugs, "He was caught in the armory trying to steal a few weapons."
Pity welled up in Summer, not for the man's pain, but for his stupidity at getting caught. Theft was an art for her - theft of gold pieces, wine, laundry - an art that had kept her alive since the day she had arrived in RhyDin as a girl child full of wild memories. A woman who heard the words of dead Gods and was more astonished then afraid when she was beaten up and humiliated.
Cretins had torn away her visions as easily as they tore away the thin fabric of her dresses. She had survived, she had covered her nakedness with clothes that no one could tear, and she had learned to prey upon those who preyed. More importantly she learned to run. And she had kept on running until the day she ran straight into Jeff's arms.
"Come wi' me luv," Jeff murmurs in her ear as he pushes open the door and ushers her out of the heat into the cold stone passageway. Summer obediently follows up through the twists and turns of the hall, reflexively memorizing her way.
"This be a fancy place." Summer whispers as notes the opulence of the furnishings and the tapestries they pass. Servants intent upon their duties, scurry about. "Ya gonna miss the rings luv?"
Jeff slides his arm around her waist and grins, "Nae luv, I am a family man now. I hae me duties at da Citadel ta attend ta, not to mention the building of our home. But ya have business in RhyDin, ya go on and keep me up wi' me friends."
Summer had already gone about this conversation with him and she knew better then to argue or try to persuade him that just because they were married did not mean things had to change. They already had. Jeff now provided all she needed, and she would no longer shame him by theft. She was going to miss that: she even wondered if she could stop. Not that he would ever ask her to stop; he rarely asked her to be anything but happy. She shook the troubling line of thought from her mind and kissed his
cheek, to the amusement of a scullery maid rushing past them her arms filled with a load of soiled linen. Summer felt the blush return; this was going to be very different.
The passage ends before a door that Jeff quickly unlocks and opens. He turns and sweeps her off her feet. Kissing her soundly he carries her across the threshold, "Welcome to Dracoern Citadel, luv."
From: Occurs
"Wha' be that?" She asks Jeff, her dark green eyes riveted to the large huddled man.
Jeff shrugs, "He was caught in the armory trying to steal a few weapons."
Pity welled up in Summer, not for the man's pain, but for his stupidity at getting caught. Theft was an art for her - theft of gold pieces, wine, laundry - an art that had kept her alive since the day she had arrived in RhyDin as a girl child full of wild memories. A woman who heard the words of dead Gods and was more astonished then afraid when she was beaten up and humiliated.
Cretins had torn away her visions as easily as they tore away the thin fabric of her dresses. She had survived, she had covered her nakedness with clothes that no one could tear, and she had learned to prey upon those who preyed. More importantly she learned to run. And she had kept on running until the day she ran straight into Jeff's arms.
"Come wi' me luv," Jeff murmurs in her ear as he pushes open the door and ushers her out of the heat into the cold stone passageway. Summer obediently follows up through the twists and turns of the hall, reflexively memorizing her way.
"This be a fancy place." Summer whispers as notes the opulence of the furnishings and the tapestries they pass. Servants intent upon their duties, scurry about. "Ya gonna miss the rings luv?"
Jeff slides his arm around her waist and grins, "Nae luv, I am a family man now. I hae me duties at da Citadel ta attend ta, not to mention the building of our home. But ya have business in RhyDin, ya go on and keep me up wi' me friends."
Summer had already gone about this conversation with him and she knew better then to argue or try to persuade him that just because they were married did not mean things had to change. They already had. Jeff now provided all she needed, and she would no longer shame him by theft. She was going to miss that: she even wondered if she could stop. Not that he would ever ask her to stop; he rarely asked her to be anything but happy. She shook the troubling line of thought from her mind and kissed his
cheek, to the amusement of a scullery maid rushing past them her arms filled with a load of soiled linen. Summer felt the blush return; this was going to be very different.
The passage ends before a door that Jeff quickly unlocks and opens. He turns and sweeps her off her feet. Kissing her soundly he carries her across the threshold, "Welcome to Dracoern Citadel, luv."