The Keeper's Codex: Ashen Memories

by A. D. Wills

  “You're right, sorry. I'll do my best to make arrangements when I return from the Summit,” Dreymond knew he shouldn't drag Calaera between his and Aldriss heated feud. “But until then...”

  “Yes, who is it this time father?” Calaera asked before he could finish, behind a tired roll of her eyes.

  “P-Pardon me?” Dreymond acted—and rather poorly at that—as though he wasn't about to bring that up himself.

  “I know you're here to present me with a new suitor. The moment you stepped in this garden, I knew it. Honestly Father, you carry the same annoying underlying excitement every single time you present someone else to me.” Calaera had no problem rightfully tearing down her Father's poor attempt.

  “I'm only so excited because I am sure that you will be quite fond of this next candidate,” Dreymond spoke as though was a bartering merchant pawning off his goods.

  “Candidate? Please don't call them that father, it only makes these conversations that much more painful than they already are.” Calaera shuddered. “Besides, no amount of convincing me beforehand will change my anticipated disappointment of who you have in mind. Every single 'candidate' has been nothing short of uninspiring, if I'm being kind.”

  “Well, that's just not true Calaera.” Dreymond sounded so sure of himself with stubborn reasoning. “I think you might need to...broaden your horizons so to speak.”

  “And just how broad should I expand these horizons and expectations? Enough so that I could marry an ogre who would do nothing more than let out a hardly assuring grunt as he guards me?”

  “I don't know who you are speaking of, I'm afraid.” Dreymond feigned ignorance.

  “Sir Traunchen, father. He was literally half ogre, and only happened to bear the title of Sir' because he was so lucky to be the son of a Lord who fancies lying with Ogres. There's also the obvious fact of his father trying to shamelessly ween his way into our family's wealth. The Mosslands their family occupies is nothing more than a dying swamp, devoid of any resources, and with almost nothing left to its once not so prestigious name. I thought you might have known that much however, assuming you read those same books Lorin and yourself thrust upon me.”

  “Now, we're all prone to make poor judgments every so often after all,” Dreymond excused himself. “From what I had heard, he was a fine man.”

  “These sources of yours are just as terrible as your judgments unfortunately."

  “Well, what about Madam Tassa Polis? She was quite the beauty, and has no need for our wealth with the Polis family being quite rich in their own right,” Dreymond sounded far too happy with himself, propping his hands up onto the folds of his fancy robes with a haughty look.

  “Oh, she was stunning, but I refuse to marry a rich snob who refuses to walk the same ground as everyone else in our city. You saw her yourself, she had her 'aids' carry her in before touching down in the keep.”

  “We all have our own unique customs, I suppose,” Dreymond nervously drifted.

  “Listen, I know that you mean well, I really do, despite your seemingly hopeless efforts.” Calaera couldn't help herself. “But I don't need a personal guard, or the prettiest partner in the world—”

  “So you did think she was stunning,” Dreymond smirked.

  “Don't push it. My point is, the time will come when it's right. I appreciate your concern, and I know you want to see me happy, but I am happy...despite some of your more annoying restrictions.”

  “I understand, and I'll try to be better from now on,” Dreymond agreed. “But at the very least, take my word on this one, there's no doubt he's the best one yet. And besides, I may or may not have already made the arrangements...”

  “And what exactly are these arrangements you've already decided upon?” Calaera would be in more disbelief, if she hadn't already experienced this before.

  “He may be on his way already, but only because it was such a perfect deal—or rather arrangement mind you. This was originally a meeting I planned with Lord Aquilinus a while ago, but given him being unwilling to travel such lengths at his advanced age, we were going to cancel. Fortunately enough though, he reminded me he has a son, and only two years older than you.”

  “How convenient indeed.” Calaera rolled her eyes with crossed arms. “If this is supposed to be a simple meeting between countries, then can you not do it yourself? I'm not so sure I understand how exactly this suddenly turned into me meeting another suitor of yours.”

  “He asked if Clovis could at least speak with you more...cordially, after discussing pertinent affairs of course.”

  “Tread carefully, father.” Calaera could tell her father was trying desperately to fish for the words to address her, ones that he not-so-skillfully tip-toed around.

  “Their country of Worros may not be in the state it once was, but they are wealthy enough to not worry about needing to 'leach.' Not to mention, Prince Clovis is quite the fighter, as I'm sure you've heard.”

  “Oh I've heard of all sorts of gruesome fights, and battles, Father.” Calaera let out a wry goading smirk she knew would crawl under her Father's nervous skin.

  “That aside...Prince Clovis is without a doubt the finest candi—person for you I have found.”

  “If nothing else, I suppose it would be difficult—even for you, to find a suitor less appealing than the others you've somehow managed to find," Calaera conceded, wanting this conversation to be over with already. "So, when am I supposed to meet him?”

  “He should be here within a few days, perhaps a day or so later, depending on how forgiving the Wailing Sea is on his way here.”

  “I'm assuming then, Lorin has planned for his arrival already as well?”

  “Of course,” Dreymond assured, entirely ignorant to how it bothered Calaera.

  “Then I'm the only one who seems to have just found out about this.”

  “Well, with things happening so quickly...”

  “Father, it's fine. I'm about used to this by now,” Calaera held her hand up to stop Dreymond from spouting any more of his sad excuses.

  “Then it's settled?” Dreymond held his breath with wide hopeful eyes.

  “Yes yes, I will be so very glad to host Sir Clovis while you are away,” said Calaera. “Past this one meeting however, I won't make any promises.”

  “Wonderful! I'm sure you two will get along just fine,” Dreymond got up, cracking his old stiffened back.

  “Back to your study then?” Calaera let out a soft laugh. Despite the subject, she did enjoy her Father's company whenever she was able to get it for a short while.

  “I was hoping to sneak in a nap, but I still have a few things to take care of that unfortunately can't wait until after the summit. May I ask what you're doing the rest of the day? Any plans to go down to the Festa with Lorin?”

  “I'm sorry, but going with him has always been far too stressful and overbearing. I'll likely end up finishing this story. I feel like relaxing a little before I'm left alone with Lorin while you are away at the Summit.”

  “Oh, and what's this story about?” Dreymond tried to peer and see the book's title, but it had a blank cover.

  “Nothing you would be interested in, but it's a personal favorite of mine; the battle of the Tides.” Calaera brandished the book, happily tapping he cover.

  “Good...enjoy that then...” Dreymond bore a forced queasy smile. “Then if you need anything, feel free to knock. I'm sure Lorin would be willing to accompany you, if you grow bored and change your mind.”

  “I'll keep it in mind, but I think I'll be okay.” Calaera smiled and waved her worrisome father off, who nodded and looked over his shoulder once more before departing the garden.

  Calaera waited a minute, staring at the garden doors in case her Father decided to come back. Once she was sure he was gone, she wandered toward the back corner of the garden behind some tall flowered hedges.

  “It's fine to come out, Shyn,” Calaera said, and turned around to see a young man standing there wrapped head to toe i
n perfectly woven layered rags, only revealing his radiant yellow eyes under his red eyebrows peering through the lone opening, leaving everything else to the imagination.

  “I'm assuming you want to go now?” Shyn asked with a poorly concealed groan behind it.

  “Oh? Not interested in finishing our little game then?” Calaera asked.

  “We would need to start over, since I cleared the board, and put everything away when your father appeared,” Shyn admitted.

  “So quick to abandon it all when you're losing. You do know the goal is to capture the King, right?” Calaera mocked. “We'll just count it as my victory then.”

  “I didn't know if he was going to look around or not,” Shyn mumbled behind his garbs. He didn't have much of a counter to stand on when he knew Calaera's beaten him every single game. He never stood a chance against her in a game of strategy like that.

  “For a calculated assassin, you're awful at strategy, Shyn.” Calaera shrugged to a look of feigned disappointment.

  “It's a good thing then that I'm not an assassin."

  “Or spy, you do seem quite comfortable in your lies, regardless how thinly veiled they might be."

  “Are we going out, or not?” Shyn asked, already a little tired from Calaera's barraging banter.

  “No need to sound so excited, Shyn. You can stay here if you want. By now I know how to leave unnoticed without you. But how heavy your conscience would weigh if something were to happen to me, the fragile Princess—the lone heir to the throne...” Calaera dramatized, and headed toward the window at the back of the garden.

  “Here, at least wear this so we don't get recognized out there...” Shyn pulled out a folded beige shawl.

  “So drab as usual, Shyn, it wouldn't kill you to find something even somewhat presentable.” Calaera's face scrunched up. "When we made that deal years ago, I never thought that you would have turned out to be nearly as restrictive as both Lorin and my Father.”

  "The way I remember it, this deal started as me playing with you before it became you pressuring me into escorting you outside of the keep under Lorin and your Father's noses.” Shyn gulped, and immediately wished he could retract, or edit his words on the spot.

  “Pressuring? And here I was, thinking that all of these years since finding you down in the Solitary Sect of the keep, that you actually enjoyed spending time with me. Really Shyn, if nothing else, you're skillful at making someone feel insignificant.” Calaera poured on, enjoying every second, knowing Shyn was writhing beneath his garbs.

  “That's...That's not what I meant by it...” Shyn stumbled on his words as always around Calaera. “All I meant, is that you know that I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on you at all times, but I'm not exactly supposed to be with you either.”

  “You're only not supposed to because of some self-imposed rule of yours that I frankly don't care that much for, so consider it waived already,” Calaera scoffed at Shyn's continued caution he's had ever since first meeting Calaera years ago.

  When Calaera was only ten years old, she stumbled upon a sinking narrow staircase past a secret entrance during one of her many curious wanderings around the keep. The deeper she went though, crippling pressure, and suffocating heat rendered her unable to move so much as an inch without feeling as though her bones would shatter.

  Before she could try to make her way back, she faded in and out of consciousness, when a young Shyn she hadn't yet met, sprang up running from the stairs below her. He made sure she was alright, and tended to her before Dreymond or Lorin could find out. But regardless of the physical punishment she endured, she continued to go back down there every day—hoping to find out more about the boy who saved her, and how he manages to survive down there on his own.

  Shyn stopped her a little earlier each time she made her way down, but if anything, Shyn only fanned the flames of her curiosity. But more than wanting any answers, Calaera kept going because she thought she finally found someone to play with.

  Growing up, Calaera didn't have any friends, or anyone her age at all to even talk to. The best she had until she met Shyn were the times Lorin and Dreymond tried their best to squeeze in with her between their constantly hectic schedules, but even then, it felt as though she was being chaperoned and looked after more than anything else.

  “Come on then, shall we get going?” Calaera asked while Shyn had his back turned, and climbed up into the open windowsill with a devious smile.

  “Alright, but we shouldn't be too long,” Shyn said, but by the time he turned around, he saw Calaera already standing in the open window.

  With a parting wave, and a tease of a smirk, Calaera fell backwards out of the window into a free fall.

  Shyn jumped through the window, slicing through the air with his hands tight at his side in hopes of catching up to Calaera who looked back up at him with a devilish all-too-pleased look.

  Coming up alongside her, Shyn pulled her into his side, and planted his dagger into the side of the keep's wall, slowing them down to safely land behind the keep's grounds out of sight.

  “Was that really necessary?” Shyn asked in a light pant, sheathing his dagger, and looking up at the noticeable scarring along the keep.

  “Loosening up would do you a little bit of good now and again, Shyn,” Calaera thought nothing of it. “And besides, it's not as though I would have done that if I wasn't sure you would catch me. Good news, you're as sure-handed as ever.”

  “That's not the point," Shyn sighed. “Let's just get going.”

  Calaera and Shyn sneaked their way out of the keep using Shyn's paths he knew were out of all the sight lines on their way into the city. Even in broad daylight, there wasn't anyone that would see the two of them.

  “Your spy pathways are as useful as ever, I see,” Calaera threw out in hopes of getting Shyn to bite on one of her accusations.

  “It's just a path I happen to know works for us," Shyn replied as dry as ever.

  “Yes, you're just a normal young man who can somehow easily handle those conditions in the solitary sect, and happen to know these secret little paths so as to not be seen. Perfectly normal behavior.”

  The two of them emerged onto the white stone streets of Lyndenwell, kissed with an orange hue from the distant setting sun. Lyndenwell didn't need the assistance of the beautiful sunset though. There's a reason why it's seen as the envy of the country.

  Its cozy homes neatly tucked in behind the shops in organized circles, barely able to be seen by those on the outside looking in, shielded by the busy exterior so those who wish for some quiet, may enjoy so.

  Dreymond ensured every last citizen is taken care of, and those from afar welcomed into their way of life. But what's usually a steady, yet spacious day on the streets, was now flooded with people with every step Calaera and Shyn take.

  Being the night before the tournament, everyone wanted to make sure they got everything they wanted to, and saw every last event they could. Once the tournament ended, everything else closed up too, so this was their last chance.

  Weaving in and out of the crowd, Shyn made sure to keep pace with Calaera who's become adept at maneuvering through the festive congestion all these years.

  “So, what made you want to go out and see the Festa?” Shyn asked, somewhat suspiciously.

  “What makes you think I'm interested in the Festa this year?” Calaera remarked. “I used to love wandering around here every year with my father years ago, but I've since seen everything there is to see. But I figured that this might be the last chance you and I get for a little to walk around the city freely like this. Is that quite alright with you?”

  Shyn blushed a little bit, warming his face beneath his garbs he never took off.

  “Besides, this is the perfect chance to speak with you since you can't run away. After all, if you did, you'd be leaving me amid the chaos that is our peaceful, harmonious city,” Calaera lightly mocked.

  Shyn's warm feeling turned ice-cold. "I don't think I have anything I'd wan
t to run away from discussing...”

  “Oh, so bold to lie to a Princess, Shyn,” Calaera teased, pulling away from Shyn with every step through the flooding crowd, encouraging him to continue catching up.

  “Telling me what you think I'm keeping from you might be helpful,” Shyn insisted he didn't know.

  “How long have you known about my father's arrangement for me to meet Prince Clovis?” Calaera cut right into it.

  Shyn gulped, and thought for a moment to lie, but somehow Calaera would always be able to pick him apart for that. “It's only been a few days,” Shyn gave in.

  “And you didn't deem it fit to warn me, or tip me off before my Father brought it up to me?” Calaera asked. “Or perhaps, you were too preoccupied with your training for any concern for me to enter your thoughts?”

  Calaera made note of Shyn showing up late to see her more than once recently.

  “...This walk around for some fresh air is becoming more tiresome than I anticipated,” Shyn muttered under his garbs.

  “Oh?” Calaera clearly heard him.

  “I didn't think it was my place to prod into those affairs,” Shyn admitted.

  “I suppose you wouldn't have any say in the matter anyway, but sometimes it might be nice to receive a bit of a heads up now and then,” Calaera conceded. “Then do you have any thoughts on Prince Clovis? I'm sure you must have some insight on him, given all the digging I'm sure you do on everyone.”

  “As I said, it's not my place to pry into this matter."

  “Shame, I was hoping you might have some dirt on him, or anything that might give me an advantage in talks with him,” Calaera sighed—glancing down at Shyn in hopes he might cave. “I'll have to find out for myself then in the meantime.”

  I hope the Prince knows exactly what he's getting into...Shyn thought to himself, shuddering at the thought.

  Amid his thoughts, Shyn felt Calaera grab, and tug away at his hand to pull him forward with her.