She smiled slightly. "No; so far as I know, these men are trustworthy. They are former men in the King's army that were released of duty after their last period of service, but who have now volunteered to fight again to serve us. They will be in charge of the forces that will march to serve the King. They wish for the loyalty of the men they take with them to fight honorably for Farlan and bring her men safely back home."
"I understand," Dorran said. "But then...if their reports are accurate, then Farlan is running out of soldiers to provide."
Thea nodded. "This is true, and has been so for a good amount of time now. However, the situation is now growing desperate, as I'm sure you have seen for yourself."
He needed to ask. "What are you going to do the next time the King asks for reinforcements?"
She looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed, glancing at a spot over his shoulder. "I do not know," she admitted. "Though I will say this, and no more: that I have been preparing for this possibility for a long time. Dorran, I will let you know when and if it is needed, you are dismissed."
Dorran blinked in surprise, but quickly knelt and left. It was only once he was back in the hall when he realized he had missed his opportunity to ask when he himself would leave for the King's army.
CHAPTER VIII
Whereas before, Dorran had wondered whether he would ever get to see any discussions of Farlan's preparations for war. Now nearly all of his mother's councils to which he was invited focused on this one subject. He watched ladies and a very few lords discuss economic contributions, create plans to outfit soldiers with weapons, foodstuffs, and other basic necessities, and bemoan the dubious possibility of completing these tasks with the resources they had available. So many were these meetings Dorran hardly had time to squeeze in practice at the barracks into his schedule, most of the time he had to work just to find time to sleep.
His most important task as of late had been the fact that his mother had put him in charge over the individuals who were scattered around the duchy in charge of their own muster groups. It was a thankless task and one that required a lot of travel and even more letters delivered by dedicated riders. Every day the stress mounted and the chance of a peaceful rest declined.
However he was finally afforded a small break, everything was put on hold including the meeting and paperwork for part of a day to welcome Lady Beatrice Alven and her daughter, Lyrre, to the castle. At first he had cared little for the news of their arrival but now he could have kissed them for their decision to come stay at the palace.
Dorran stood beside his mother and watched as Myriel and Vernis pulled the doors to Thea's largest council chamber open. The two women entered wearing their finest gowns followed by a small, demure line of servants, sweeping inside in grand style.
The first was tall, with blonde hair run through with gray that fell in ringlets down her back. The girl behind her, Lyrre, was similarly radiant, every feature from her height to the narrow shape of her face was almost a mirror reflection of her mother. She was also one of the most beautiful women Dorran had ever seen. Almond-shaped dark eyes peered out from behind a small curtain of strawberry-blonde hair, and a full, red mouth pouted just above her pointed chin. She kept her head demurely downcast as she followed her mother into the room, but Dorran saw her eyes flicker upwards every few seconds to take in the faces scattered throughout the room.
"Lady Alven," Thea intoned, standing and holding out her hands in a gesture of welcome. "And Lady Lyrre. It is a pleasure to see you again after so many years."
The two of them knelt. "The pleasure is ours, your highness," said Alven demurely, head bowed. "We must thank you for your hospitality in inviting us to stay within your walls."
"Not at all. To have family close by is a comfort especially in such dark times as these," Thea said warmly, walking to the kneeling pair and raising them to their feet with her hand. "I hope you feel at home here. Your chambers have been prepared, and you're to ask if you want for anything. Please, go and rest; I'm sure you're tired from your extended journey."
Alven and Lyrre both curtsied and then walked back out of the room in as grand a fashion as they had entered. Dorran thought he saw Lyrre take a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, but he couldn't be certain.
His attention was too quickly diverted for him to have much time to think about it, though; now that the business of welcoming the castle's new guests was finished, the council returned to the ever-present affairs of the muster, which seemed all the more pressing after the day's short diversion. There were hordes of claimants, petitions, and representatives of various areas respectfully noting the difficulties the muster had raised. The short reprieve he had received was over and the many issues started to close in around him again.
None of these, to Dorran's surprise, were overly vehement or anywhere close to angry. He couldn't even detect the restrained civility of the very tense. Instead, they seemed worried that they were simply unable to perform the tasks that the Duchess and through her, the King had requested of them. Thea always reassured them as best she could and asked them to continue to fulfill her requests to whatever extent they believed was possible. Dorran marveled at the feeling that seemed to echo around the room, unspoken, that the muster was some sort of imaginary event that they made the motions of preparing for, but that none of them truly believed would actually come to pass. It was almost enough to make him start disbelieving in it himself, but his mother had taught him that lying to yourself was never beneficial.
Then, near the end of the meeting, came a petition that Dorran hadn't been expecting.
Edith stepped from the line outside the door and came to kneel before the queen, stiff and expressionless. Instead of any sort of gown or dress, she had on formal soldier's attire, borrowed, Dorran guessed, either from her late brother or from an uncle. "Your Majesty, I would like to petition that you allow a selection of women trained in combat admission into the King's latest muster," she said with a straight face and calm voice but Dorran could see the pleading look in her wavering eyes.
Thea's face was blank, giving no clue as to what her thoughts were on the request. Dorran could tell it unnerved Edith slightly but if he was being honest he was just as worried about the answer to the question himself. "Go on."
Dorran recognized this reaction as a signal of Thea's disapproval, but still she listened, fascinated, as Edith continued. "Farlan is poor in men already, my lady," she said resolutely. "The women I have in mind have already mastered the basics of combat, and show a strong dedication to completing their training. I am confident that women in their prime could prove more valuable to the king than male fighters that are too young or too old, that we must add just to meet the numbers he had requested."
"What of tradition?" Thea asked smoothly. "How do you think a band of women would fare in a largely male army?"
"With respect, my lady, I have heard reports of several other duchies resorting to sending women soldiers in the past few years. Moreover, I am confident that the women of Farlan could look after themselves. We are more than capable in a larger army, especially with a suitable female leader heading the force."
"And do you have any particular woman in mind to head this proposed force?" Thea asked.
"I know several female fighters who I believe would be well-suited to the task," Edith answered. "However, many of these are less experienced or less familiar with the ways of armies and command than I, so I would list myself among possible candidates for my lady's consideration. Needless to say, we would all be more than happy to follow any leader that you saw fit to appoint."
"I see." Thea sat back in her chair, eyes hard. "Hear me well, Edith, while I understand times are changing I will not have the daughters of Farlan added to the growing list of the dead. I am denying this petition. Moreover, if I find any movement to smuggle women into the muster, I will take full disciplinary measures. Am I understood?"
Edith's composure broke for one second. "My lady…."
>
Thea cut her off, her voice as sharp as a bared blade. "Farlan has already lost too many good men to the war; I will not allow her to lose her best and brightest women as well. I have made my decision, you are dismissed."
Edith swallowed hard, bowed, and departed. Dorran could see the tears beginning to crawl from the corner of Edith’s eyes. He wanted to chase after her but he knew he was the last person she would want to talk to at the moment. As she left the audience chamber she left behind a highly strung silence in her wake.
Dorran was perplexed. He thought that the idea of sending female soldiers was actually an excellent one especially considering the fact that they were lacking the number of male soldiers the king was requesting by a large number. Why had she dismissed it out of hand? Looking around the table, he could see he was not alone in his confusion; several of the other nobles looked as though they wanted to talk amongst themselves, though the stillness of the room forbade it.
After a long moment, Thea continued her voice still carrying the sharpness she had used against Edith causing many people in the room to jump. "Next petitioner, step forward."
The rest of the day’s petitioners seemed to float by none of them catching his attention. His mind was fully fixed on thoughts of Edith. When the last person left the hall Dorran shuffled out of the hall wishing he had the leisure to go look for his friend but with the new guests staying at the castle he knew that he wouldn’t be afforded any free time for quite a while.
As Thea had promised, the dinner that evening was more of a feast. All of Thea's family was there, of course, as was most of the council and a handful of servants; put together, nearly two dozen people sat together at table, with Thea at the head and Alven and Lyrre occupying seats of honor. Dorran and his sisters sat across the table from their guests. Dorran, unused to formal state meals felt slightly nervous but nevertheless he found himself interested in his aunt and cousin.
Lady Beatrice Alven was several years older than Thea. She had had five sons in her first marriage, which had been organized by her family; of these sons, three had long died in the war, one was missing, and the other, her second youngest, had been on the front for three years. She mentioned his achievements and the ranks he had gained with glowing pride, but Dorran found himself wondering between her effusions whether she thought she would ever see her son again, after losing four already.
When her husband had died, also in the war, she had remarried. Lyrre was the only child she had of her second husband before he, too, had been lost to the war. Dorran felt bad at first, hearing her say it; here was another person for whom the King's ongoing struggle had cost dear ones. He found himself feeling rather morbidly glad that Thea at least had two daughters, and that they were both talented in politics and perfectly capable of looking after themselves.
Then, it seemed, she had fallen upon hard times. Despite the loss of so many family members, Alven claimed that she had never lost faith in the King's war effort. Eventually, her donations had accumulated to the point where her old estate became difficult to maintain, at which point, she explained to Dorran's sisters with a sheepish blush, Thea had been kind enough as to offer to take her in.
Dorran was slightly suspicious of this story as absolute truth, given the finery Alven and Lyrre were currently garbed in, but still expressed his polite astonishment at her generous spirit. Alven basked in the praise for a polite period of time, then continued the discussion with the others. Dorran began to notice that somehow, she seemed to enjoy trying to turn the topic of conversation back to herself.
He found himself more interested in Lyrre, though. It seemed as though she was an altogether different sort of person than her mother. While she seemed to lend a sympathetic ear to Alven, nodding and pouting at all the right moments, her eyes rapidly scanned and re-scanned the room, wide with curiosity and excitement. During a short break in one of Alven's monologues, Dorran opened his mouth to ask her what she thought of the castle, but Adhara jumped in before he could, asking her instead about her gown.
Lyrre seemed delighted about the question, and Dorran watched, bemused, as the two girls began talking in very high-pitched, fast voices about dresses, fashion, decor, and the castle, in that order. Lyrre was self-deprecating about her old estate. "It was old and falling apart, and it was too grand for just me and Mama" she also seemed overwhelmingly excited to be living in the capital. She praised the elegance of the castle; Adhara explained sheepishly that they, too, were suffering the consequences of the war, and apologized for the meager fare, but Lyrre shot her down, praising everything at the table. Then she asked sympathetically about the war effort. When Adhara explained the rationing across Farlan, including the castle, Lyrre praised Thea in a hushed voice for her willingness to experience hardship alongside her people instead of forcing more hardship on them in order to keep up a lavish lifestyle.
It was undeniably pure politics, Dorran thought as he watched them, but it was much faster paced and more excited-sounding than what he usually saw at his mother's councils. He admitted to himself that he found it altogether intimidating and a bit on the amusing side.
Having just concluded this, he jumped and started to sweat when Lyrre turned her eyes on him. "Lord Dorran, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said happily. "I think we may have met before, but I was too young to remember."
Thinking on it, Dorran concluded that he did indeed dimly remember a red-headed girl at a midwinter's festival they had spent with his father's family before his death. "I must have been only four or five then." he said, frowning.
"That's right, you're only a year older than I am," Lyrre said, beaming. "Are you preparing to take over from your mother?"
"I..." The question took him aback, but he knew how important it was to answer right away. "I am, as long as I don't go off to war first," was the best answer he was able to supply. He looked over at Adhara by reflex, and she gave him a quick tilt of her head which he interpreted as either a shrug or a nod of approval. He hoped that meant his answer had been acceptable.
Lyrre's eyes sparkled. "You're a warrior, then?"
"I certainly try," he said uncomfortably. He suspected it wouldn't be very gentlemanly to start explaining martial training to her, and was unsure how much he should tell her about their latest difficulties in gathering soldiers. "What about you? How do you do pass the time?"
Lyrre made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, sewing, singing, study...Mama made sure I know my history and have some understanding of politics. I'm also to help out all I can with fabric and clothing production, if there's any of that around here I can help. I'm decent with a needle and thread, and I want to help out as much as I can."
Dorran raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed with her attitude and charming demeanor. "I wouldn't know much about that," he admitted, "but I'm sure you're very talented, and that Mother would be happy to have your help."
"Though she's happy that you're here already," Adhara jumped in, smiling warmly. "It's been years since we saw each other. Remember our outing to the southern mountains?"
"Of course!" Lyrre said warmly. "They were so beautiful."
"When was this?" Dorran asked, curious.
"It must have been oh, three or four years ago, now?" Adhara said, with a quick glance at Lyrre for confirmation. "You had already begun your training and didn't want to come, so Nora and I went with Lyrre and Lady Alven to an estate near the southern pass. We had a grand time; the countryside down there is so beautiful in the summer."
"It is," Nora said, speaking up for the first time. Dorran looked at her, mildly surprised, but she was smiling pleasantly. "We watched the full moon rise over the hills. Remember the way it rose twice over the mountains? It was orange that night, too. I think it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen."
Adhara and Lyrre agreed with her enthusiastically, and Lyrre talked for several minutes about the times she had been lucky enough to go south, and the pleasantness of the country down there. Then Thea, taking over briefly
, laid out in detail the history of the region and how many considered it the heart of Farlan. Even though Dorran and all the girls knew the history of the mountains word for word, they projected a front of rapt attention, and he did his best to imitate it despite his mind being elsewhere.
Dorran remembered the moonrise over the mountains, too, but for a different reason, one which Lyrre's words had brought to the forefront of his mind. A few months before his departure, Duke Jaren had taken the young Dorran with him to the mountains. Every night, they would watch the moon rise over the mountains, and every night Jaren would tell Dorran a new story from Farlan's history. The last night it was full, and as the illusion of the two moons shimmered out of existence, Jaren had turned to his son and said, "This is what you'll have to protect when I'm gone. I'm trusting you to take good care of it." Then he'd placed a hand on the five-year-old Dorran's head, picked him up, and carried him back to the tents where the soldiers were spending the night. It was more than a year after that when news of his death reached Farlan, and Dorran had almost forgotten about the incident in the years since then, but the image of the two moons rising over the mountains brought it back with surprising clarity and pain.
Dorran was startled from his reverie by an excited cry from Alven, and let the memory slip from his mind. It was strange to think that Alven was his father's sister. He was too young to remember much of his father's personality, but he had always seemed very serious and important, and Lady Beatrice didn't seem like her brother at all.
The dinner ended up lasting about two and a half hours, and by the end of it Dorran was sick of the trappings of formal conversation and more than ready to retire for the night. Not even the twinkle in Lyrre's eye as she bade him farewell. It was more than enough to make him regret the end of the evening. Lady Beatrice and Lyrre were charming enough, he supposed, but the most interesting memory he had taken from it was more than twelve years old.
Noble Beginnings Page 6