Talsiny City, Talsiny.
Present day.
The mourners had finally taken leave and even the straggling onlookers had left the cemetary. Yet Arane Nausikaa Ganderfald still stood in front of a pile of freshly turned earth. Her husband waited in the opened gateway, leaning against the stone wall which sectioned off this area for the bodies of Nausikaa's finest. Several of their personal guard hung outside the wall, waiting patiently and carefully keeping their eyes diverted from the woman within.
Her eyes traveled over the names on the gravestones surrounding her. The twins, George and Gabriel Nausikaa, had a single headstone as they were buried side-by-side just as they had died. Their leader and hero -- Henry Nausikaa. The name still caused an icy stab of pain to clench her heart everytime it was brought up in her presence. Patrick Nausikaa. Jerome Nausikaa. There was Christopher Nausikaa whose young daughters were constant in making sure that their father's gravesite had freshly cut flowers. There were twelve in all, including the newest which only now could Arane force her eyes upon.
The words "Edwin Nausikaa" were freshly cut into the granite. Especially beloved by the Lord God, his Father. A loyal friend, a loyal brother. Such simple words, such a small space could hardly sum up the deeds of a man of thirty-three.
Her hands rested against her abdomen lightly, one over top the other, as if protecting herself from this newest blow. Only she and he had survived the tumultous rise to power to see the Nausikaa family gain such unprecedented respect in Talsiny. The others had been cut down one-by-one; fallen soldiers for their cause. After so many years of fighting to get to this point, so many years of bloodshed and war, Edwin had been cut down, in peace-time, by a sudden infection.
A mere fever had taken the life of one of the most powerful men in Talsiny, leaving only one of the original Nausikaa orphans left. Only the sickly, silent little girl, Arane, was left of the group.
The birds chirped and called to one another. The sun shone radiently down upon the blossoming trees giving way to greening leaves. Talsiny was being fully embraced by spring. Life continued. She would not, she could not reconcile herself to accept the total loss of her childhood, her heroes, her brothers.
Beneath the light layer of soft cotton of her simple black dress, her knees locked tightly and then suddenly her legs gave out. She crumpled to the ground at the foot of Edwin's grave. For the first time in a great many years, she could not help but cry. Her shoulders shuddered in time with her sobs and tears warmed her cheeks.
Cletus Ganderfald straightened from his lean and immediately went to his wife. He scooped her easily up into his arms and she quickly hid the shameful tears by burying her face against his chest. With a face as hard and masked as that of the granite tombstones, he gave soft orders to the guards for the carriage to be brought around and carried the sole surviving Nausikaan free of the cemetary.
The beginnings of a young king
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Velam, Talsiny
Present day
The flickering candlelight cast lean, angular shadows across the opulent room. Even for being the middle of the night, the house was particularly silent. There were not the usual sounds of sleep. The only noise was the soothing tone of the of lapping water against the cobblestoned river-roads that cut through the city of Velam.
A worn voice lifted from the bed. "Has she come?"
The servant tending the old man responded only by dipping her cloth into the basin lightly and pressing the coolness against his head. A man straightened in his chair, shaking off sleep, at the sign that his father had awaken from his fitful slumber. He rose to his full height and took a step towards the bed to take in his father. His inquisitive, sharp gaze was no longer met with the same. There was desperation in the older man's dying eyes -- an intense desire to deliver a message before he no longer could.
He forcefully eased the sternness on his features. "Not yet, father, but I am told she is on her way." The father gave a small nod and closed his eyes as if the struggle to keep them open was too great. The son, John, allowed his own thoughts to embrace him once more as he watched the servant tend to his father.
When the sound of oars slapping against the dark murky water outside broke the silence once more, John was torn from his thoughts without any idea of how much time he had been standing there studying the sleeping old man. Softly muted voices fluttered from outside. A visitor in the middle of the night could only be the one that the father had been waiting for.
Several minutes followed before the sound of knocking on the door brought the announcement of the arrival. The father stirred as his eldest son stepped into the room. The eldest first allowed a troubled glance to his father before turning to his brother.
"She is here." There was tension in his posture and tone. The air around him crackled angrily at having to ask the woman to join them at such a private time.
The father opened his pale blue eyes at the statement. "Have her come in then."
Several moments followed before Arane Ganderfald of the Nausikaa "family" stepped through the doorway, motioning with a small gesture for a burly guard following her to hang back. While the elder brother's stance tightened and features hardened at being so close, the younger could not help but inspect her carefully. While John had seen her at a distance several times and had agreed with his wife's opinion that she was always smartly dressed but far too thin, there was something disarming about seeing her in person while knowing her sins.
A simple black dress of mourning reaching her ankles did what it could to downplay her shortness and elongate her form. However, it did not nearly do enough to warrant the elder brother's tough stance. The front half of her honey blonde curls was twisted and pinned up demurely while the back half hung free just past her shoulders. Save her eyes, there was nothing about the woman to suspect her as anything more than a well-to-do housewife. The eyes, however, were a different matter. They betrayed intelligence, cunning, and wile -- the three most undesirable qualities in a woman.
The elder brother dismissed the tired servant with a brisk nod and after dipping a low curtsy to the visitor, the young maid left the room without ever finding out the sensational reason behind the woman's visit and, thus, depriving her of many hours of racy gossip. Later she would curse her bad luck to any and all that would listen to the tale.
The father tilted his head to the side to take in his eldest son, his heir. "Thank you, Peter." The tone was dismissive, a clear indication that he too was being sent from the room. Peter's gaze hardened further and then he shot a dark look into the direction of John who had not been sent away and whom could only return the look with a puzzled expression.
However, he was not as puzzled as he had let on. He was a youngest son, a nothing in the eyes of Talsinian law and only slightly more in the eyes of his father. He was here as the father's trusted doctor and, in that respect, meant much more to his father than he ever had as a son. It would be Peter who would be left this ancient house and the vast mercantile business. Peter had no reason to worry. The same realization seemed to dawn on Peter as well who, with a huff, exited the room.
The old man turned his nearly sightless eyes on his expected visitor. "Thank you for coming, Lady Ganderfald. Please have a seat." He lifted a withered hand to motion to the chair that the servant had just left.
With the grace that only a woman of her confidence could posses, Arane stepped forward and slowly eased her small frame onto the chair. "Although, it is a great honor, Lord Ranfold, I must admit that your request to meet me at such a time as this has left me more than a little surprised and curious."
The man gave a soft, raspy cough. His son tilted his head at the sound, listening carefully and calculating the time his father had left with a deep sorrow. "Although in this life your great Henry and I were pitted against one another, I always felt that in another time he might have been a son to me."
The words caused a flicker of emotion on the stoic woman's face and for the briefest of moments, the son believed that he might have to pry her hands off of him. Her blue eyes dropped briefly and when they met the old man's gaze again, the emotion was covered.
The son could hardly have blamed her. After listening to the innuendos and whispered rumors all his life, there could be little doubt that Lord Ranfold had been the salacious patron of a young courtesan who had tragically died young, leaving a small child to grow up in one of the many begrimed, teeming Talsinian orphanages. The child grew up into the legendary Henry Nausikaa. Lord Ranfold could very well possibly be the father of Henry Nausikaa in this life.
The lady obviously did not trust herself to open her mouth so after a moment, Lord Ranfold continued in a raspy whisper. "I know who killed Henry."
Present day
The flickering candlelight cast lean, angular shadows across the opulent room. Even for being the middle of the night, the house was particularly silent. There were not the usual sounds of sleep. The only noise was the soothing tone of the of lapping water against the cobblestoned river-roads that cut through the city of Velam.
A worn voice lifted from the bed. "Has she come?"
The servant tending the old man responded only by dipping her cloth into the basin lightly and pressing the coolness against his head. A man straightened in his chair, shaking off sleep, at the sign that his father had awaken from his fitful slumber. He rose to his full height and took a step towards the bed to take in his father. His inquisitive, sharp gaze was no longer met with the same. There was desperation in the older man's dying eyes -- an intense desire to deliver a message before he no longer could.
He forcefully eased the sternness on his features. "Not yet, father, but I am told she is on her way." The father gave a small nod and closed his eyes as if the struggle to keep them open was too great. The son, John, allowed his own thoughts to embrace him once more as he watched the servant tend to his father.
When the sound of oars slapping against the dark murky water outside broke the silence once more, John was torn from his thoughts without any idea of how much time he had been standing there studying the sleeping old man. Softly muted voices fluttered from outside. A visitor in the middle of the night could only be the one that the father had been waiting for.
Several minutes followed before the sound of knocking on the door brought the announcement of the arrival. The father stirred as his eldest son stepped into the room. The eldest first allowed a troubled glance to his father before turning to his brother.
"She is here." There was tension in his posture and tone. The air around him crackled angrily at having to ask the woman to join them at such a private time.
The father opened his pale blue eyes at the statement. "Have her come in then."
Several moments followed before Arane Ganderfald of the Nausikaa "family" stepped through the doorway, motioning with a small gesture for a burly guard following her to hang back. While the elder brother's stance tightened and features hardened at being so close, the younger could not help but inspect her carefully. While John had seen her at a distance several times and had agreed with his wife's opinion that she was always smartly dressed but far too thin, there was something disarming about seeing her in person while knowing her sins.
A simple black dress of mourning reaching her ankles did what it could to downplay her shortness and elongate her form. However, it did not nearly do enough to warrant the elder brother's tough stance. The front half of her honey blonde curls was twisted and pinned up demurely while the back half hung free just past her shoulders. Save her eyes, there was nothing about the woman to suspect her as anything more than a well-to-do housewife. The eyes, however, were a different matter. They betrayed intelligence, cunning, and wile -- the three most undesirable qualities in a woman.
The elder brother dismissed the tired servant with a brisk nod and after dipping a low curtsy to the visitor, the young maid left the room without ever finding out the sensational reason behind the woman's visit and, thus, depriving her of many hours of racy gossip. Later she would curse her bad luck to any and all that would listen to the tale.
The father tilted his head to the side to take in his eldest son, his heir. "Thank you, Peter." The tone was dismissive, a clear indication that he too was being sent from the room. Peter's gaze hardened further and then he shot a dark look into the direction of John who had not been sent away and whom could only return the look with a puzzled expression.
However, he was not as puzzled as he had let on. He was a youngest son, a nothing in the eyes of Talsinian law and only slightly more in the eyes of his father. He was here as the father's trusted doctor and, in that respect, meant much more to his father than he ever had as a son. It would be Peter who would be left this ancient house and the vast mercantile business. Peter had no reason to worry. The same realization seemed to dawn on Peter as well who, with a huff, exited the room.
The old man turned his nearly sightless eyes on his expected visitor. "Thank you for coming, Lady Ganderfald. Please have a seat." He lifted a withered hand to motion to the chair that the servant had just left.
With the grace that only a woman of her confidence could posses, Arane stepped forward and slowly eased her small frame onto the chair. "Although, it is a great honor, Lord Ranfold, I must admit that your request to meet me at such a time as this has left me more than a little surprised and curious."
The man gave a soft, raspy cough. His son tilted his head at the sound, listening carefully and calculating the time his father had left with a deep sorrow. "Although in this life your great Henry and I were pitted against one another, I always felt that in another time he might have been a son to me."
The words caused a flicker of emotion on the stoic woman's face and for the briefest of moments, the son believed that he might have to pry her hands off of him. Her blue eyes dropped briefly and when they met the old man's gaze again, the emotion was covered.
The son could hardly have blamed her. After listening to the innuendos and whispered rumors all his life, there could be little doubt that Lord Ranfold had been the salacious patron of a young courtesan who had tragically died young, leaving a small child to grow up in one of the many begrimed, teeming Talsinian orphanages. The child grew up into the legendary Henry Nausikaa. Lord Ranfold could very well possibly be the father of Henry Nausikaa in this life.
The lady obviously did not trust herself to open her mouth so after a moment, Lord Ranfold continued in a raspy whisper. "I know who killed Henry."
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Talsiny City, Talsiny
Twenty-three years prior
Henry had been a born leader. He was the boy that kids both younger and older would look to for guidance. Did Henry want to play tag? Did Henry eat his green vegetables? Did Henry like one nun more than another?
They flocked to him and by thirteen he had a strong core of loyal disciples that would follow him through the firey gates of Hell. In fact, some would say that his following did just that.
Ariadne, a waifish eight year old with matted blonde curls and sunken cheeks, was not initially part of this group. Far from it, actually. The boys would pick on her mercilessly -- call her names, throw stones at her, ignore her entirely. She was different, odd. She never played with the other children. She never played at all. She merely sat, sickly and silent, staring at nothing.
Her future changed on a cool Saturday morning just before spring broke in Talsiny City. Saturday mornings were her most dreaded day of the week. A famed local doctor would donate his time, coming closer to God by serving His orphaned children on his day off. Each Saturday morning he would set-up shop in a small room, no bigger than a closet, and listen patiently as various children with various ailments passed through the door.
She was always the last child he saw. She had never benefitted from great health and the doctor had impressed upon the nuns the importance that he saw her weekly to snuff out ailments early. A sudden fever could be the death of such a delicate child. Therefore, week and week, despite her protestations that she was quite well, Ariadne was brought forward to the closet-like room to see the doctor.
On this particular Saturday morning, as she opened the doorway and stepped out into the hallway, she ran smack into the lanky form of Henry who had been rushing down the hall in one of his endless quests to get somewhere faster than all the rest. Her fog of tears had clouded her path and Henry growled lowly as the small girl bounced off of him, "Watch where you're going."
Her sniffling caused him to pause as despite all the teasing, he had yet to see her shed tears or show any form of emotion. She muttered an incoherent apology as she finished buttoning the last of the buttons of her dress, still straightening her disheveled clothes after her time within the dreaded room. As he did not make move to leave, the girl finally rose her scared blue eyes to meet Henry's gaze. The hopelessness bore into even the flippant mind of a thirteen year old boy.
A moment later the door to the room opened and the doctor stepped out. Ariadne skittered quickly out of his way while Henry's gaze turned hardened on the man. The man smiled down at him, giving his hair a good toss before leveling his gaze on Ariadne. "I will see you next week." With the girl nodding obediently, he turned and headed down the hallway.
Shock rooted Henry in place as innocence was pushed away and understanding settled upon his mind.
It was not until the next day that his plan was formed and the decision was made. Early in the next afternoon, he had seeked out the young girl and silently led her to the boys' room on the second floor. Her fear was paltable. What would this boy do to her now?
He ushered her inside, closing the door behind him. Eleven boys on eleven cots groaned as they saw that they had been infiltrated by a girl. Several threw up their hands in disgust.
"What the hell, Henry?" grumbled a moptop of red hair.
"Zip it, Patsy. Arane is one of us now," Henry demanded of the others. Ariadne looked up stunned at the statement and far too shy to let him know that he had gotten her name wrong. There was another chorus of groans but these were much more subdued.
"Hi, Arane!" the youngest boy, Edwin, grinned brightly over the bars of his cot at the girl. "We call ourselves Nausikaa," he stated proudly.
"...After the orphanage," added one of the twins who were perched on side-by-side cots.
"Well, duh, even she's not that dumb," piped in his mirror image. Ariadne squinted attempting to decipher which one was George and which was Gabriel.
Her task was cut off as Henry cut in. "Knock it off."
Henry took a step forward into the center of the room. His measured steps and somber frown quieted the room. Even his newest apostle was enthralled. "I have something serious to tell you all," he stated in a voice far too old for his thirteen year old body. "We are leaving here tomorrow."
There were no questions. Each of them looked at him with loyal admiration and stunned acceptance. In that moment, Ariadne too was sucked in by the magic of Henry and her old self was cast aside. Arane of Nausikaa took over in her place.
Twenty-three years prior
Henry had been a born leader. He was the boy that kids both younger and older would look to for guidance. Did Henry want to play tag? Did Henry eat his green vegetables? Did Henry like one nun more than another?
They flocked to him and by thirteen he had a strong core of loyal disciples that would follow him through the firey gates of Hell. In fact, some would say that his following did just that.
Ariadne, a waifish eight year old with matted blonde curls and sunken cheeks, was not initially part of this group. Far from it, actually. The boys would pick on her mercilessly -- call her names, throw stones at her, ignore her entirely. She was different, odd. She never played with the other children. She never played at all. She merely sat, sickly and silent, staring at nothing.
Her future changed on a cool Saturday morning just before spring broke in Talsiny City. Saturday mornings were her most dreaded day of the week. A famed local doctor would donate his time, coming closer to God by serving His orphaned children on his day off. Each Saturday morning he would set-up shop in a small room, no bigger than a closet, and listen patiently as various children with various ailments passed through the door.
She was always the last child he saw. She had never benefitted from great health and the doctor had impressed upon the nuns the importance that he saw her weekly to snuff out ailments early. A sudden fever could be the death of such a delicate child. Therefore, week and week, despite her protestations that she was quite well, Ariadne was brought forward to the closet-like room to see the doctor.
On this particular Saturday morning, as she opened the doorway and stepped out into the hallway, she ran smack into the lanky form of Henry who had been rushing down the hall in one of his endless quests to get somewhere faster than all the rest. Her fog of tears had clouded her path and Henry growled lowly as the small girl bounced off of him, "Watch where you're going."
Her sniffling caused him to pause as despite all the teasing, he had yet to see her shed tears or show any form of emotion. She muttered an incoherent apology as she finished buttoning the last of the buttons of her dress, still straightening her disheveled clothes after her time within the dreaded room. As he did not make move to leave, the girl finally rose her scared blue eyes to meet Henry's gaze. The hopelessness bore into even the flippant mind of a thirteen year old boy.
A moment later the door to the room opened and the doctor stepped out. Ariadne skittered quickly out of his way while Henry's gaze turned hardened on the man. The man smiled down at him, giving his hair a good toss before leveling his gaze on Ariadne. "I will see you next week." With the girl nodding obediently, he turned and headed down the hallway.
Shock rooted Henry in place as innocence was pushed away and understanding settled upon his mind.
It was not until the next day that his plan was formed and the decision was made. Early in the next afternoon, he had seeked out the young girl and silently led her to the boys' room on the second floor. Her fear was paltable. What would this boy do to her now?
He ushered her inside, closing the door behind him. Eleven boys on eleven cots groaned as they saw that they had been infiltrated by a girl. Several threw up their hands in disgust.
"What the hell, Henry?" grumbled a moptop of red hair.
"Zip it, Patsy. Arane is one of us now," Henry demanded of the others. Ariadne looked up stunned at the statement and far too shy to let him know that he had gotten her name wrong. There was another chorus of groans but these were much more subdued.
"Hi, Arane!" the youngest boy, Edwin, grinned brightly over the bars of his cot at the girl. "We call ourselves Nausikaa," he stated proudly.
"...After the orphanage," added one of the twins who were perched on side-by-side cots.
"Well, duh, even she's not that dumb," piped in his mirror image. Ariadne squinted attempting to decipher which one was George and which was Gabriel.
Her task was cut off as Henry cut in. "Knock it off."
Henry took a step forward into the center of the room. His measured steps and somber frown quieted the room. Even his newest apostle was enthralled. "I have something serious to tell you all," he stated in a voice far too old for his thirteen year old body. "We are leaving here tomorrow."
There were no questions. Each of them looked at him with loyal admiration and stunned acceptance. In that moment, Ariadne too was sucked in by the magic of Henry and her old self was cast aside. Arane of Nausikaa took over in her place.
Last edited by Arane Nausikaa on Sun Apr 30, 2006 10:53 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Novaro, Talsiny
Present day
There was a short knock on the door of John Ranfold and the sound of a flurry activity outside. The noise startled John from his book of anatomy and drew his dark, concerned gaze to the door as the knocker, his wife, opened the door and moved inward without invitation.
His wife drew the back of a hand over her strained brow as she caught her breath. Past her in the hallway, John could see servants bustling past in a last minute effort to make the house spotless and bringing out the best dinnerware the family owned.
John placed his book down on the side table and rose to his feet. He anxiously tugged on the hem of his jacket as he crossed the room to join his wife. "What is it, Margaret?"
Finally having regained her composure, Margaret gave her husband a troubled frown. "The new Lord Ranfold's groom just arrived. He stated that his master would be here within the hour."
John reached out to kindly ease his wife's tension by placing a hand on her arm. "Just because my brother is now the current Lord Ranfold does not mean we must put on airs, my dear. Peter has been to this house many times." He hoped that his tone convinced his wife of a conviction that he himself did not believe.
Her features eased and she offered a small nod of acknowledgment. "Now," he stated as he led her from the study towards her rooms. "Why do you not go and put that green dress on that I love so much? You know the one that brings out your eyes? I am sure that Mrs. Hendrick will do a fine job getting the house in order without you."
His gentle words finally earned him a smile and with a knot of tension rising in his stomach, he left his wife to ready himself for the first meeting with the new Lord Ranfold.
Present day
There was a short knock on the door of John Ranfold and the sound of a flurry activity outside. The noise startled John from his book of anatomy and drew his dark, concerned gaze to the door as the knocker, his wife, opened the door and moved inward without invitation.
His wife drew the back of a hand over her strained brow as she caught her breath. Past her in the hallway, John could see servants bustling past in a last minute effort to make the house spotless and bringing out the best dinnerware the family owned.
John placed his book down on the side table and rose to his feet. He anxiously tugged on the hem of his jacket as he crossed the room to join his wife. "What is it, Margaret?"
Finally having regained her composure, Margaret gave her husband a troubled frown. "The new Lord Ranfold's groom just arrived. He stated that his master would be here within the hour."
John reached out to kindly ease his wife's tension by placing a hand on her arm. "Just because my brother is now the current Lord Ranfold does not mean we must put on airs, my dear. Peter has been to this house many times." He hoped that his tone convinced his wife of a conviction that he himself did not believe.
Her features eased and she offered a small nod of acknowledgment. "Now," he stated as he led her from the study towards her rooms. "Why do you not go and put that green dress on that I love so much? You know the one that brings out your eyes? I am sure that Mrs. Hendrick will do a fine job getting the house in order without you."
His gentle words finally earned him a smile and with a knot of tension rising in his stomach, he left his wife to ready himself for the first meeting with the new Lord Ranfold.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach, Talsiny
Present day
"I will save you, Lady Lauren!" cried the seven year old Zen, a wooden sword tightly in one hand and the other reaching up to his five year old sister who was seated in the low crook of a tree.
"Princess Lauren!" the young girl corrected.
Zen snorted at his sister's inability to follow along with the game. "No, Lauren! This time you're Lady Lauren, not a Princess."
"I'm always a princess," Lauren stated with a toothy smile.
Zen had given up the argument with a roll of his eyes and returned his focus on the danger at hand. In a rare show of childlike abandon, Adana had forgotten that she was a pretentious betrothed girl of thirteen and was creeping towards the pair, roaring like an enraged lion.
Arane, watching her three children as they played in the inner courtyard, allowed herself her first smile in many weeks. It began shakily but grew more confident with each passing moment.
Footsteps approached her from behind but she did not turn from the arched doorway. She knew those footsteps without glancing back. Slowly a set of strong arms encircled her waist and she leaned back against her husband. He leaned down to lightly rest his chin on her shoulder as they continued to watch the game of make believe unfold before them.
"What did old Lord Ranfold want?" Cletus asked softly in her ear after a long moment.
It was not a question from husband to wife but from the new head of Nausikaa to his most loyal and trusted counselor. Arane rested her hands on top of his, releasing a soft sigh. "He knew who killed Henry."
There was a long moment of silence as Cletus processed the ramifications of this discovery. "And now, after a decade of keeping the secret, he decided that several hours before his death he would tell you?"
"He says that he did not wish to go to heaven with it on his soul," Arane replied softly.
Too consumed with attempting to come up with an argument against what he knew would follow, Cletus failed to even make a retort regarding the destination of old Lord Ranfold's soul. Cletus, the current head of Nausikaa, had never known Henry Nausikaa, the original head of Nausikaa. He had died, leaving Arane his heir, several years before Arane and Cletus had met. Yet, even he had to respect a man that had induced such severe loyalty in so many while wrapping an entire country around his finger with his charm and kingly manners.
Arane broke their stalemate with the sentence he had been dreading. "I am going to kill those involved."
His hopes to talk her out of it were swept away by her tone. He had not heard it since the night when, enraged by the sword's dark magic, she had captured and tortured him. For the first time in months, there was confidence in her tone and deadly intent in her manner. "I know," was all he could reply. "I will go with you."
"No," came the quick reply that he had already expected. "But I will not being going alone. I made a promise to someone many years ago that I would not hoard any information I got of who the killers might be."
With all the other twelve original members of Nausikaa dead, there would be only one person alive to whom Arane would make such a promise. Cletus lifted a brow before brushing a kiss against his wife's cheek.
Suddenly, the children's play caught his eye and he lifted his chin, straightening to his full height. Somehow the roles had reversed in the course of play and now the evil Lord Zen had good Princess Lauren in a tight hold with her against his chest as he shouted a warning to Lauren's savior, Adana the Brave, to stay back.
With a mischievous grin, Princess Lauren took her saving into her own hands. She sent an elbow to Zen's gut, causing the wind to be pushed free of his lungs. Then her arm extended to a groin shot which she luckily missed. Smoothly as he hunched over she broke free to launch a side kick that connected but without any force. "Gumdrop!" she shouted in her own version of a martial arts "kiyah".
Cletus was immediately moving towards the trio with a grave look and Arane followed after him. Zen was catching him breath, shooting Lauren an accusatory glare. As Lauren began to realize that she had hurt her brother, her large brown eyes began to fill with crocodile tears. Adana remained off to the side, appearing more than a little guilty.
Arane stood beside Zen rubbing his back as he caught his breath while Cletus knelt down in front of Lauren. "Lauren, we do not hit our sister or brother. Do you understand?"
Lauren nodded slowly as tears spilled over onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Zen," she whispered without prompting.
He huffed and rubbed his abdomen before giving a shrug. He simply didn't have it in him to hold a grudge. "It's alright," he muttered.
"Who taught you that, Lauren?" Arane asked after the apology had been complete. Although it was important to both mother and father that all of their children be able to defend themselves, Lauren's lessons had not yet begun. In the course of the confusing past year, it was one of the smaller things that had been forgotten. Arane made a mental note to change that immediately.
Lauren hesitated, unsure if she should give up her tutor. Adana stepped forward with a small, shaky smile. "I did," she replied quietly to relieve Lauren from the burden of having to decide if she should tattle or not.
Arane could not fight off the beginnings of a proud grin so she turned her attention to Zen, brushing off dirt from his pants. With all the patience of an eight year old boy for a doting mother, Zen rolled his eyes heaving a great heavy sigh.
Cletus had to take over in lightly reprimanding Adana. "While your mother and I are certainly grateful that you would teach your sister how to protect herself, you forgot to teach her the most important lesson -- when and on who it is appropriate to use such moves."
Adana nodded obediently but the sharp eyed girl had not failed to notice her mother's smile. She clasped her hands in front of her and enjoyed the bask of her mother's approval for a moment while the topic of conversation turned from the attack to a subject much more dear to Zen's heart -- lunch.
Present day
"I will save you, Lady Lauren!" cried the seven year old Zen, a wooden sword tightly in one hand and the other reaching up to his five year old sister who was seated in the low crook of a tree.
"Princess Lauren!" the young girl corrected.
Zen snorted at his sister's inability to follow along with the game. "No, Lauren! This time you're Lady Lauren, not a Princess."
"I'm always a princess," Lauren stated with a toothy smile.
Zen had given up the argument with a roll of his eyes and returned his focus on the danger at hand. In a rare show of childlike abandon, Adana had forgotten that she was a pretentious betrothed girl of thirteen and was creeping towards the pair, roaring like an enraged lion.
Arane, watching her three children as they played in the inner courtyard, allowed herself her first smile in many weeks. It began shakily but grew more confident with each passing moment.
Footsteps approached her from behind but she did not turn from the arched doorway. She knew those footsteps without glancing back. Slowly a set of strong arms encircled her waist and she leaned back against her husband. He leaned down to lightly rest his chin on her shoulder as they continued to watch the game of make believe unfold before them.
"What did old Lord Ranfold want?" Cletus asked softly in her ear after a long moment.
It was not a question from husband to wife but from the new head of Nausikaa to his most loyal and trusted counselor. Arane rested her hands on top of his, releasing a soft sigh. "He knew who killed Henry."
There was a long moment of silence as Cletus processed the ramifications of this discovery. "And now, after a decade of keeping the secret, he decided that several hours before his death he would tell you?"
"He says that he did not wish to go to heaven with it on his soul," Arane replied softly.
Too consumed with attempting to come up with an argument against what he knew would follow, Cletus failed to even make a retort regarding the destination of old Lord Ranfold's soul. Cletus, the current head of Nausikaa, had never known Henry Nausikaa, the original head of Nausikaa. He had died, leaving Arane his heir, several years before Arane and Cletus had met. Yet, even he had to respect a man that had induced such severe loyalty in so many while wrapping an entire country around his finger with his charm and kingly manners.
Arane broke their stalemate with the sentence he had been dreading. "I am going to kill those involved."
His hopes to talk her out of it were swept away by her tone. He had not heard it since the night when, enraged by the sword's dark magic, she had captured and tortured him. For the first time in months, there was confidence in her tone and deadly intent in her manner. "I know," was all he could reply. "I will go with you."
"No," came the quick reply that he had already expected. "But I will not being going alone. I made a promise to someone many years ago that I would not hoard any information I got of who the killers might be."
With all the other twelve original members of Nausikaa dead, there would be only one person alive to whom Arane would make such a promise. Cletus lifted a brow before brushing a kiss against his wife's cheek.
Suddenly, the children's play caught his eye and he lifted his chin, straightening to his full height. Somehow the roles had reversed in the course of play and now the evil Lord Zen had good Princess Lauren in a tight hold with her against his chest as he shouted a warning to Lauren's savior, Adana the Brave, to stay back.
With a mischievous grin, Princess Lauren took her saving into her own hands. She sent an elbow to Zen's gut, causing the wind to be pushed free of his lungs. Then her arm extended to a groin shot which she luckily missed. Smoothly as he hunched over she broke free to launch a side kick that connected but without any force. "Gumdrop!" she shouted in her own version of a martial arts "kiyah".
Cletus was immediately moving towards the trio with a grave look and Arane followed after him. Zen was catching him breath, shooting Lauren an accusatory glare. As Lauren began to realize that she had hurt her brother, her large brown eyes began to fill with crocodile tears. Adana remained off to the side, appearing more than a little guilty.
Arane stood beside Zen rubbing his back as he caught his breath while Cletus knelt down in front of Lauren. "Lauren, we do not hit our sister or brother. Do you understand?"
Lauren nodded slowly as tears spilled over onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Zen," she whispered without prompting.
He huffed and rubbed his abdomen before giving a shrug. He simply didn't have it in him to hold a grudge. "It's alright," he muttered.
"Who taught you that, Lauren?" Arane asked after the apology had been complete. Although it was important to both mother and father that all of their children be able to defend themselves, Lauren's lessons had not yet begun. In the course of the confusing past year, it was one of the smaller things that had been forgotten. Arane made a mental note to change that immediately.
Lauren hesitated, unsure if she should give up her tutor. Adana stepped forward with a small, shaky smile. "I did," she replied quietly to relieve Lauren from the burden of having to decide if she should tattle or not.
Arane could not fight off the beginnings of a proud grin so she turned her attention to Zen, brushing off dirt from his pants. With all the patience of an eight year old boy for a doting mother, Zen rolled his eyes heaving a great heavy sigh.
Cletus had to take over in lightly reprimanding Adana. "While your mother and I are certainly grateful that you would teach your sister how to protect herself, you forgot to teach her the most important lesson -- when and on who it is appropriate to use such moves."
Adana nodded obediently but the sharp eyed girl had not failed to notice her mother's smile. She clasped her hands in front of her and enjoyed the bask of her mother's approval for a moment while the topic of conversation turned from the attack to a subject much more dear to Zen's heart -- lunch.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Novaro, Talsiny.
Present day.
Lord Peter Ranfold, the newest in the long line of Lord Ranfolds, stepped out of his carriage to face his younger brother's household whom had gathered to welcome him. His eyes briefly paused on John's pretty wife. She was dipped in a slight curtsey, her head bowed and green eyes cast downward. She was a good, obedient girl from the Anderson family who had come with a healthy dowry. Although current Talsinian women's fashion called for a dress bunched beneath the breasts and flowing in a light soft layer downward, not showing off most of a woman's curves, yet there was no way for Margaret to hide her round extending abdomen which strained against the light cotton fabric.
The sight of John's young pregnant wife reminded Peter that he could no longer stall on finding a wife of his own. The greatest concern of every great man was producing a male heir.
Peter parted his lips in a tight smile before settling his dark eyes on his brother as he stepped forward to him. John nodded respectfully before offering a shaky smile. "We are glad to welcome you to our home, Lord Ranfold."
"I will not be staying long," Peter stated as his gaze moved on to the exterior of John's respectable house. "I have business to discuss with you in private and then I must continue on to Talsiny City."
"Can I offer you something to dri--" John began in a stiff formal tone.
"No, I do not have time," interrupted Peter. "Let us walk around your garden." With that Peter was moving down the pathway towards a grove of fruit trees. John dismissed his servants with a nod of his head to continue their household chores and briefly touched his wife's arm in a loving gesture before she too turned to head back into their home.
John extended his strides to catch up to his older, but shorter, brother and when they were out of ear shot, Peter wasted little time in stating the business of his visit. "I need to know what father told Nausikaa."
The rough dirt crunched beneath Peter's feet and his features hardened further as John hesitated in answering. "I do not believe it is my place," John stated with an apologetic tone.
Peter suddenly stopped and reached out for John, jerking him to a stop as well. "Listen here," he spat out as if he had prepared the speech long before that moment. "I am the reigning Lord Ranfold. I have the burden of watching out for this family and ensuring that our wealth and power remain untouched. Our old father should have wiped Nausikaa off the map when they first began to poke their dirty heads out from underneath the rocks they crawled out of. He failed the family. I will restore us to the glory that an old family such as ours deserves."
John listened to the speech wide-eyed and shocked. Peter was planning on going to war with Nausikaa. Still Peter hesitated in breaking his father's trust. Peter's rough hold on John's arm tightened to a painful degree as Peter took a step closer. "You will tell me what father said. I control you now, I control our sisters, I control that pretty wife of yours, I control your unborn child. I can make your life a living hell," he said softly.
There was no doubting those statements were true. John Ranfold did not have the power to fight his elder brother. "Father told her who killed Henry Nausikaa," John finally admitted.
Peter released his hold on John, his brows furrowing tightly. "And who did he say it was?"
John choked on his answer. "His Eminence, the Cardinal."
Present day.
Lord Peter Ranfold, the newest in the long line of Lord Ranfolds, stepped out of his carriage to face his younger brother's household whom had gathered to welcome him. His eyes briefly paused on John's pretty wife. She was dipped in a slight curtsey, her head bowed and green eyes cast downward. She was a good, obedient girl from the Anderson family who had come with a healthy dowry. Although current Talsinian women's fashion called for a dress bunched beneath the breasts and flowing in a light soft layer downward, not showing off most of a woman's curves, yet there was no way for Margaret to hide her round extending abdomen which strained against the light cotton fabric.
The sight of John's young pregnant wife reminded Peter that he could no longer stall on finding a wife of his own. The greatest concern of every great man was producing a male heir.
Peter parted his lips in a tight smile before settling his dark eyes on his brother as he stepped forward to him. John nodded respectfully before offering a shaky smile. "We are glad to welcome you to our home, Lord Ranfold."
"I will not be staying long," Peter stated as his gaze moved on to the exterior of John's respectable house. "I have business to discuss with you in private and then I must continue on to Talsiny City."
"Can I offer you something to dri--" John began in a stiff formal tone.
"No, I do not have time," interrupted Peter. "Let us walk around your garden." With that Peter was moving down the pathway towards a grove of fruit trees. John dismissed his servants with a nod of his head to continue their household chores and briefly touched his wife's arm in a loving gesture before she too turned to head back into their home.
John extended his strides to catch up to his older, but shorter, brother and when they were out of ear shot, Peter wasted little time in stating the business of his visit. "I need to know what father told Nausikaa."
The rough dirt crunched beneath Peter's feet and his features hardened further as John hesitated in answering. "I do not believe it is my place," John stated with an apologetic tone.
Peter suddenly stopped and reached out for John, jerking him to a stop as well. "Listen here," he spat out as if he had prepared the speech long before that moment. "I am the reigning Lord Ranfold. I have the burden of watching out for this family and ensuring that our wealth and power remain untouched. Our old father should have wiped Nausikaa off the map when they first began to poke their dirty heads out from underneath the rocks they crawled out of. He failed the family. I will restore us to the glory that an old family such as ours deserves."
John listened to the speech wide-eyed and shocked. Peter was planning on going to war with Nausikaa. Still Peter hesitated in breaking his father's trust. Peter's rough hold on John's arm tightened to a painful degree as Peter took a step closer. "You will tell me what father said. I control you now, I control our sisters, I control that pretty wife of yours, I control your unborn child. I can make your life a living hell," he said softly.
There was no doubting those statements were true. John Ranfold did not have the power to fight his elder brother. "Father told her who killed Henry Nausikaa," John finally admitted.
Peter released his hold on John, his brows furrowing tightly. "And who did he say it was?"
John choked on his answer. "His Eminence, the Cardinal."
Last edited by Arane Nausikaa on Mon Apr 24, 2006 5:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Talsiny City, Talsiny
Nine years prior.
The ecclesiocractic government of the coastal country of Talsiny was governed by the five-member Council of the Bishops and headed by His Eminence, Cardinal Moscinom. They lived and worked in the Talsinian Palace of Redemption, a glorious work of Talsinian architecture that overlooked the famous landmark -- Saint Mary's Square. They surrounded themselves with the best that Talsiny had to offer -- the richest wine, the most elegant architecture, the rarest food, the most breath-taking pieces of art.
Cardinal Moscinom's flame-red skull cap parted the sea as he walked down the marble halls of the Palace. The crowd gathered to present claims in front of the Council later in the afternoon bowed their heads politely as he walked past, keeping clear of his path. His eyes remained straight ahead on the large doubled doors at the end of the hall.
Two silent Council Guards stood at attention on either side of the doubled doors. Almost in unison they reached out to open the pair for him. He never even had to slow his stride before stepping through the doorway. The doors were closed behind him as the five Bishops circling the round table rose to their feet.
"Your Emminence," they said softly together in greeting.
Cardinal Moscinom gave them brisk nods before he immediately began to release his rage. "What is this about Henry Nausikaa throwing a festival?"
The men remained on their feet and instantly their expressions froze. Bishop Russo, the most loyal member of the Council, began, "Nausikaa is throwing a festival in celebration of All Saint's Day to discourage the barbaric fashion of All Hallow's Eve."
The Cardinal's features hardened further as he eased into his place at the table. The Bishops surrounding him immediately took their seats as well. "This is deeply troubling."
"In this instance, they are working to eliminate a practice that we do not condone," stated Bishop Sassano gently. "Perhaps we should let this pass."
Moscinom banged a heavy fist against the ornately carved table, causing more than one of the Bishops to cringe. "This country worships him as a false prophet. They turn from their Almighty God to that heretic," the Cardinal growled angrily at the assembly.
"...Many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many," Bishop Russo quoted from the gospel of Matthew.
"Exactly," raged Moscinom. "And what does the book of Deuteronomy say must be done to false prophets?" He posed the question as a teacher attempting to lead his students to the answer her had already found.
There was silence for a long moment as the bishops searched their minds for the book in question. Finally, a soft-spoken voice rose with a clear ring. All eyes turned on the elderly Bishop Tulio.
"But the prophet, which shall persume to speak a word in my name, which I have not commanded him to speak, or that shall speak in the name of other gods, even that prophet shall die."
Nine years prior.
The ecclesiocractic government of the coastal country of Talsiny was governed by the five-member Council of the Bishops and headed by His Eminence, Cardinal Moscinom. They lived and worked in the Talsinian Palace of Redemption, a glorious work of Talsinian architecture that overlooked the famous landmark -- Saint Mary's Square. They surrounded themselves with the best that Talsiny had to offer -- the richest wine, the most elegant architecture, the rarest food, the most breath-taking pieces of art.
Cardinal Moscinom's flame-red skull cap parted the sea as he walked down the marble halls of the Palace. The crowd gathered to present claims in front of the Council later in the afternoon bowed their heads politely as he walked past, keeping clear of his path. His eyes remained straight ahead on the large doubled doors at the end of the hall.
Two silent Council Guards stood at attention on either side of the doubled doors. Almost in unison they reached out to open the pair for him. He never even had to slow his stride before stepping through the doorway. The doors were closed behind him as the five Bishops circling the round table rose to their feet.
"Your Emminence," they said softly together in greeting.
Cardinal Moscinom gave them brisk nods before he immediately began to release his rage. "What is this about Henry Nausikaa throwing a festival?"
The men remained on their feet and instantly their expressions froze. Bishop Russo, the most loyal member of the Council, began, "Nausikaa is throwing a festival in celebration of All Saint's Day to discourage the barbaric fashion of All Hallow's Eve."
The Cardinal's features hardened further as he eased into his place at the table. The Bishops surrounding him immediately took their seats as well. "This is deeply troubling."
"In this instance, they are working to eliminate a practice that we do not condone," stated Bishop Sassano gently. "Perhaps we should let this pass."
Moscinom banged a heavy fist against the ornately carved table, causing more than one of the Bishops to cringe. "This country worships him as a false prophet. They turn from their Almighty God to that heretic," the Cardinal growled angrily at the assembly.
"...Many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many," Bishop Russo quoted from the gospel of Matthew.
"Exactly," raged Moscinom. "And what does the book of Deuteronomy say must be done to false prophets?" He posed the question as a teacher attempting to lead his students to the answer her had already found.
There was silence for a long moment as the bishops searched their minds for the book in question. Finally, a soft-spoken voice rose with a clear ring. All eyes turned on the elderly Bishop Tulio.
"But the prophet, which shall persume to speak a word in my name, which I have not commanded him to speak, or that shall speak in the name of other gods, even that prophet shall die."
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Talsiny City, Talsiny
Nine years prior
Lord George Ranfold sat in the private office of the Cardinal, waiting in silence. Even a landed man of the oldest family in Talsiny must wait for His Emminence.
At least that is how it had been when Lord Ranfold's father had been the head of the household. These days, the Nausikaa kids believed that if they threw enough money at the Council then they deserved intimate and immediate access to the Cardinal and Bishops. Those simpletons were no more than bastards and orphans, made their fortunes in the lowest ways, and, yet, demanded only the best. These days, everything was changing. Lord Ranfold did not like it any more than the Cardinal.
When the door swung open, Lord Ranfold immediately rose to his feet to greet the Cardinal. "Good day, Your Emminence."
The Cardinal nodded briskly in return before rounding the ancient desk to take a seat beside it. Lord Ranfold eased back into his chair, placing his clasped hands in his lap and feigning his most interested expression in preparation for the reason for the Cardinal requesting to see him.
"I am concerned for the state of our country, Lord Ranfold," began Moscinom.
"Are you, Cardinal? What has you troubled?"
"Your bastard son," growled Moscinom in response.
Lord Ranfold was taken aback by the bluntness of the insult. He stammered over his words as he drew up his voice in indignation. "I do not know as to what you are refering."
The Cardinal released a bitter laugh as he leaned back in his chair. "Of course you do. I am refering to Henry Nausikaa. Rumor has it that the miscreant is the son of your dead lover."
"I would not know about such rumors," he stated cooly. "I do not listen to such wild rumors."
"Own up to your sin," Cardinal Moscinom snarled. "Henry Nausikaa acts as if he is king of this country. The people follow him and love him as if he was their emissary to God, not I."
Silence filled the room for a long moment as the Cardinal gave Lord Ranfold a moment to consider his own greviances with his unrecognized son. The Nausikaa rise to power was greatly cutting into the wealth and power of the older, established familes which were led by the Ranfolds.
After that long moment, the Cardinal leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Therefore, it is God's wish that you help me destroy the sin that you brought into this world."
Nine years prior
Lord George Ranfold sat in the private office of the Cardinal, waiting in silence. Even a landed man of the oldest family in Talsiny must wait for His Emminence.
At least that is how it had been when Lord Ranfold's father had been the head of the household. These days, the Nausikaa kids believed that if they threw enough money at the Council then they deserved intimate and immediate access to the Cardinal and Bishops. Those simpletons were no more than bastards and orphans, made their fortunes in the lowest ways, and, yet, demanded only the best. These days, everything was changing. Lord Ranfold did not like it any more than the Cardinal.
When the door swung open, Lord Ranfold immediately rose to his feet to greet the Cardinal. "Good day, Your Emminence."
The Cardinal nodded briskly in return before rounding the ancient desk to take a seat beside it. Lord Ranfold eased back into his chair, placing his clasped hands in his lap and feigning his most interested expression in preparation for the reason for the Cardinal requesting to see him.
"I am concerned for the state of our country, Lord Ranfold," began Moscinom.
"Are you, Cardinal? What has you troubled?"
"Your bastard son," growled Moscinom in response.
Lord Ranfold was taken aback by the bluntness of the insult. He stammered over his words as he drew up his voice in indignation. "I do not know as to what you are refering."
The Cardinal released a bitter laugh as he leaned back in his chair. "Of course you do. I am refering to Henry Nausikaa. Rumor has it that the miscreant is the son of your dead lover."
"I would not know about such rumors," he stated cooly. "I do not listen to such wild rumors."
"Own up to your sin," Cardinal Moscinom snarled. "Henry Nausikaa acts as if he is king of this country. The people follow him and love him as if he was their emissary to God, not I."
Silence filled the room for a long moment as the Cardinal gave Lord Ranfold a moment to consider his own greviances with his unrecognized son. The Nausikaa rise to power was greatly cutting into the wealth and power of the older, established familes which were led by the Ranfolds.
After that long moment, the Cardinal leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Therefore, it is God's wish that you help me destroy the sin that you brought into this world."
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Talsiny City, Talsiny
Nine years prior
Cardinal Moscinom stood on the alter of Saint Peter's Cathedral before the packed Sunday congregation of Talsiny City's most revered church. He lifted one of the pieces of the Sacred particles, the eucharist, and in a booming voice announced in Latin, "Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce Qui tollit peccata mundi."
"Domine, no sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea."
The words ran through the Cardinal's head, translated into English. Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word and my soul shall be healed. That his soul should be clear and his heart open to God's word was important on today of all day's.
"Domine, no sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea," he repeated aloud before the congregation.
This day he would do God's will. He would eradicate the leader of the irreverant heretics.
"Domine, no sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea," he stated for the third and final time as was required in the traditional Tridentine liturgy.
The Cardinal stepped forward to the center foot of the alter with a bowl of communion in hand. He concentrated on the task at hand, offering each person who came to him the Body of Christ. The amount that Nausikaa donated in alms granted them a perfectly positioned pew inside the cathedral. As the line pressed forward, Moscinom could see Henry Nausikaa approaching him.
He forced himself to remain brave as his brown eyes turned back on the woman before him. "Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam."
"Amen," she responded softly before accepting the eucharist and stepping off to the side.
As Henry Nausikaa stepped forward, Moscinom allowed his hand to slide into the long sleeve of his alb. There he had torn several threads from the inner hem of the sleeve and hidden a specially prepared piece of eucharist. He pulled it free and positioned his hand above the bowl as if the piece had just been lifted from the bowl. With so many layers of liturgical vestments, the move was never noticed.
The Cardinal focused his attention on Henry as he came before him. He had only a hint of the dark Ranfold looks in his pitch black hair and olive complexion. However, his height and jovial blue eyes were the last gift of his mother. Henry lifted his cupped hands easily meeting the gaze of the Cardinal as if the man had no sins to hide.
"Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam," Moscinom stated solemnly.
Henry bowed his head as the communion was placed his hands. "Amen," he stated beneath his breath before placing the Body of Christ to his tongue and stepping away from the alter.
The rest of his sin-ridden gang followed him to the alter and one after the other the cardinal served them untainted eucharist from the bowl, wishing he had the opportunity to wipe Talsiny free of all of them. The red-haired freckled Patrick had the nerve to irreverently wink at him before turning back towards the pew. Christopher Nausikaa was both glassy-eyed and obviously hung over from a rough night of gluttony. Edwin frowned so darkly at him that for a brief moment he wondered if he had been detected.
The sulty smile of Charlie Nausikaa gave him pause. Unlike every other woman in the congregation who had demurely pinned back their hair, she had allowed hers to be free and wild. Although, he knew through death and sexuality the sixteen year old proved herself to be the every embodiment of sin on earth, Moscinom could not help but stare at the curves outlined beneath the fabric of her tight dress as she walked away.
His stare was caught by the next woman in line. Moscinom returned his brown eyes to meet the sharp silent gaze of Arane Nausikaa, the widow of the eldest son of the old Durante family. What had begun as a truce between one of the great old families of Talsiny and the neuvo riche had ended in the suspicious death of the Durante's most prized son. Yet, by this time, Nausikaa was too powerful for revenge to be an option.
The Cardinal reached forward to place the eucharist on her tongue and repeated the blessing. As she whispered her "Amen", the Cardinal placed his hand on the forehead of the young girl clutching Arane's hand.
Finally, as the last of the Nausikaas were served and moved back to their pew, Moscinom relaxed. The deed was done and he had not been detected. With a heart full of pride he finished serving the rest of the congregation communion before replacing the Ciborium in the tabernacle.
He then returned to lift the Chalice and say, "Quod ore sumpsimus Domine, pura mente capiamus: et de munere temporali fiat nobis remedium sempiternum."
Into a pure heart, O Lord, may we recieve the heavenly food which has passed our lips; bestowed upon us in time, may it be the healing of our souls for eternity. As he placed the Chalice back down, he allowed himself a small satisfied smile. With this heavenly food, Cardinal Moscinom had found a way to rid the world of a great evil in Henry Nausikaa. He must only wait a few short hours for the results.
Nine years prior
Cardinal Moscinom stood on the alter of Saint Peter's Cathedral before the packed Sunday congregation of Talsiny City's most revered church. He lifted one of the pieces of the Sacred particles, the eucharist, and in a booming voice announced in Latin, "Ecce Agnus Dei, ecce Qui tollit peccata mundi."
"Domine, no sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea."
The words ran through the Cardinal's head, translated into English. Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst enter under my roof; but only say the word and my soul shall be healed. That his soul should be clear and his heart open to God's word was important on today of all day's.
"Domine, no sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea," he repeated aloud before the congregation.
This day he would do God's will. He would eradicate the leader of the irreverant heretics.
"Domine, no sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea," he stated for the third and final time as was required in the traditional Tridentine liturgy.
The Cardinal stepped forward to the center foot of the alter with a bowl of communion in hand. He concentrated on the task at hand, offering each person who came to him the Body of Christ. The amount that Nausikaa donated in alms granted them a perfectly positioned pew inside the cathedral. As the line pressed forward, Moscinom could see Henry Nausikaa approaching him.
He forced himself to remain brave as his brown eyes turned back on the woman before him. "Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam."
"Amen," she responded softly before accepting the eucharist and stepping off to the side.
As Henry Nausikaa stepped forward, Moscinom allowed his hand to slide into the long sleeve of his alb. There he had torn several threads from the inner hem of the sleeve and hidden a specially prepared piece of eucharist. He pulled it free and positioned his hand above the bowl as if the piece had just been lifted from the bowl. With so many layers of liturgical vestments, the move was never noticed.
The Cardinal focused his attention on Henry as he came before him. He had only a hint of the dark Ranfold looks in his pitch black hair and olive complexion. However, his height and jovial blue eyes were the last gift of his mother. Henry lifted his cupped hands easily meeting the gaze of the Cardinal as if the man had no sins to hide.
"Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam," Moscinom stated solemnly.
Henry bowed his head as the communion was placed his hands. "Amen," he stated beneath his breath before placing the Body of Christ to his tongue and stepping away from the alter.
The rest of his sin-ridden gang followed him to the alter and one after the other the cardinal served them untainted eucharist from the bowl, wishing he had the opportunity to wipe Talsiny free of all of them. The red-haired freckled Patrick had the nerve to irreverently wink at him before turning back towards the pew. Christopher Nausikaa was both glassy-eyed and obviously hung over from a rough night of gluttony. Edwin frowned so darkly at him that for a brief moment he wondered if he had been detected.
The sulty smile of Charlie Nausikaa gave him pause. Unlike every other woman in the congregation who had demurely pinned back their hair, she had allowed hers to be free and wild. Although, he knew through death and sexuality the sixteen year old proved herself to be the every embodiment of sin on earth, Moscinom could not help but stare at the curves outlined beneath the fabric of her tight dress as she walked away.
His stare was caught by the next woman in line. Moscinom returned his brown eyes to meet the sharp silent gaze of Arane Nausikaa, the widow of the eldest son of the old Durante family. What had begun as a truce between one of the great old families of Talsiny and the neuvo riche had ended in the suspicious death of the Durante's most prized son. Yet, by this time, Nausikaa was too powerful for revenge to be an option.
The Cardinal reached forward to place the eucharist on her tongue and repeated the blessing. As she whispered her "Amen", the Cardinal placed his hand on the forehead of the young girl clutching Arane's hand.
Finally, as the last of the Nausikaas were served and moved back to their pew, Moscinom relaxed. The deed was done and he had not been detected. With a heart full of pride he finished serving the rest of the congregation communion before replacing the Ciborium in the tabernacle.
He then returned to lift the Chalice and say, "Quod ore sumpsimus Domine, pura mente capiamus: et de munere temporali fiat nobis remedium sempiternum."
Into a pure heart, O Lord, may we recieve the heavenly food which has passed our lips; bestowed upon us in time, may it be the healing of our souls for eternity. As he placed the Chalice back down, he allowed himself a small satisfied smile. With this heavenly food, Cardinal Moscinom had found a way to rid the world of a great evil in Henry Nausikaa. He must only wait a few short hours for the results.
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Arane Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 59
- Joined: Sun Apr 04, 2004 2:45 pm
- Location: The Atalaya Manor at Atalaya Beach in Talsiny
Talsiny City, Talsiny
Nine years prior.
The secret ingredient that had been added to the eucharist and served to Henry Nausikaa was very rare indeed. Pufferfish was strictly forbidden to be sold, traded, or even possessed in Talsiny as less than a half a milligram could kill an adult human. The penalties for anyone caught attempting to barter such an item were extreme. Hence, it was exceedingly rare to come upon it.
Lord Ranfold had used a great deal of careful discretion and a large sum of money to secure the liver of a Pufferfish for the Cardinal. The deadly sacrament was then specially prepared by the Cardinal with the blessing of the Bishop's Council.
Within two hours of consuming the sacred particle laced with Pufferfish, Henry Nausikaa began to feel a slight numbness in his lips. Yet, he was determined to enjoy his Sunday afternoon. Most of the Nausikaa "family" were gathered in his large parlor to discuss the happenings of the week and share a laugh or two. He listened patiently to Arane's four year old daughter, Adana, tell him a magical tale involving a crocodile falling prey to a trap set by a cunning little girl. After she was finished, he applauded enthusiastically.
Only an hour later the paresthesia had begun to spread across his face and began to be accompanied by a fierce headache and nausea. With an ever cheerful smile, he pulled Arane aside to inform her that he was feeling unwell and wished to lie down for a while. Arane, who had with her daughter lived with him since the death of her husband, promised to serve as host to his guests and promised him, at his insistence, not to tell them what had pulled him away from the regular Sunday gathering.
After the large group had dinner and were ushered off into the crisp fall evening, Arane returned to check in on Henry Nausikaa. She was deeply startled to find him having difficulty even sitting. The paralysis was spreading rapidly. Immediately, a messenger was dispatched to fetch a physician.
One Talsiny's best physicians arrived in time to find Henry beginning to have trouble catching his breath. Though he was having trouble making his lips respond, he continued to be chatty. He reached out for Arane's hand and offered her an awkward half-smile. "We will laugh about this, you and I, for years to come -- the day that God slurred my speech." Arane smiled softly, patting their clasped hands with her free one.
Before the physician had even had a chance to finish his examination, the convulsions began and his skin grew a bluish discoloration from a lack of oxygen. After the intense shaking had eased, Arane met Henry's gaze and he quickly looked away. For the first time in the great many years of her hero worship of Henry Nausikaa, she saw fear in his eyes.
The physican had given her some feeble explanation regarding a virus attacking the brain. He had no answer. The convulsions grew more violent and more frequent as Henry lost control of his extremeties completely. Yet, he remained lucid. He muttered stuccato prayers for God's mercy between desperate gasps for air.
Arane clutched his hand through the final convulsion, through the physician's pronouncement of death, through the long cold night. When the sun's rays broke through the east-facing windows, the servants finally convinced the lady of the house to release the hand of her hero, her employer, her savior.
Nine years prior.
The secret ingredient that had been added to the eucharist and served to Henry Nausikaa was very rare indeed. Pufferfish was strictly forbidden to be sold, traded, or even possessed in Talsiny as less than a half a milligram could kill an adult human. The penalties for anyone caught attempting to barter such an item were extreme. Hence, it was exceedingly rare to come upon it.
Lord Ranfold had used a great deal of careful discretion and a large sum of money to secure the liver of a Pufferfish for the Cardinal. The deadly sacrament was then specially prepared by the Cardinal with the blessing of the Bishop's Council.
Within two hours of consuming the sacred particle laced with Pufferfish, Henry Nausikaa began to feel a slight numbness in his lips. Yet, he was determined to enjoy his Sunday afternoon. Most of the Nausikaa "family" were gathered in his large parlor to discuss the happenings of the week and share a laugh or two. He listened patiently to Arane's four year old daughter, Adana, tell him a magical tale involving a crocodile falling prey to a trap set by a cunning little girl. After she was finished, he applauded enthusiastically.
Only an hour later the paresthesia had begun to spread across his face and began to be accompanied by a fierce headache and nausea. With an ever cheerful smile, he pulled Arane aside to inform her that he was feeling unwell and wished to lie down for a while. Arane, who had with her daughter lived with him since the death of her husband, promised to serve as host to his guests and promised him, at his insistence, not to tell them what had pulled him away from the regular Sunday gathering.
After the large group had dinner and were ushered off into the crisp fall evening, Arane returned to check in on Henry Nausikaa. She was deeply startled to find him having difficulty even sitting. The paralysis was spreading rapidly. Immediately, a messenger was dispatched to fetch a physician.
One Talsiny's best physicians arrived in time to find Henry beginning to have trouble catching his breath. Though he was having trouble making his lips respond, he continued to be chatty. He reached out for Arane's hand and offered her an awkward half-smile. "We will laugh about this, you and I, for years to come -- the day that God slurred my speech." Arane smiled softly, patting their clasped hands with her free one.
Before the physician had even had a chance to finish his examination, the convulsions began and his skin grew a bluish discoloration from a lack of oxygen. After the intense shaking had eased, Arane met Henry's gaze and he quickly looked away. For the first time in the great many years of her hero worship of Henry Nausikaa, she saw fear in his eyes.
The physican had given her some feeble explanation regarding a virus attacking the brain. He had no answer. The convulsions grew more violent and more frequent as Henry lost control of his extremeties completely. Yet, he remained lucid. He muttered stuccato prayers for God's mercy between desperate gasps for air.
Arane clutched his hand through the final convulsion, through the physician's pronouncement of death, through the long cold night. When the sun's rays broke through the east-facing windows, the servants finally convinced the lady of the house to release the hand of her hero, her employer, her savior.
Last edited by Arane Nausikaa on Fri Nov 24, 2006 10:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Charlie Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 145
- Joined: Tue Nov 22, 2005 6:10 am
- Location: House of Retribution in the Old Market District of RhyDin
Old Market District, RhyDin Proper
Present day
Friday evenings often found Charlie Jericho leaning against the brick front beside the door of the House of Retribution. Silently she would watch the foot traffic that passed down the cobblestoned street. There were merchants eager to get home to their families to enjoy a nice meal and plan the weekend's socializing. There were young women dolled up in their finest gowns with jewels in their elegantly styled hair off to one dinner party or another in their constant attempt to woe the richest, most handsome man possible into marriage. There were men anxious to free themselves of their work clothes to begin the night's trolling.
With her gaze hidden by a hat pulled down low to cast a shadow over her eyes, she would study them all intensely as they walked past. Observing life had become an obsession. Since her death she had failed to feel as if she could emulate living and, therefore, she had put herself to studying those who were doing it. To allow one's self to be passionate, to truly connect with those around you -- those were the qualities she wished to learn.
As the street began to be cast in the shades of purples and dark reds from the setting sun, Charlie finally pushed herself from her lean and began down the street herself to head for her home. She kept her head tilted downward, deeply hoping not to be recognized, while contemplating a quiet weekend night spent at home with her sketch pad and her dog, Slash, at her feet.
A small woman in a long shapeless cloaked bumped into her and whispered a soft, "Excuse me." The woman continued on without looking back, dark fabric swirling behind her. So enthralled was Charlie in her own thoughts that she took several steps before she recognized the voice. She slowed to a stop, watching the cloaked figure disappear around a bend. Her hands slipped into her pockets as her mind attempted to convince her heart that it was only her imagination.
Her right hand hit a small piece of paper in the pocket. She arched a brow as the hand cupped around the piece of paper and drew it out. On a perfectly square piece of fine paper was an ornate "N" in what appeared to be a henna ink. It was indentical to the tattoo between Charlie's shoulder blades, identical to the insignet ring that Tareth Thorn had ripped off her corpse and later destroyed at her request.
The square of paper slipped from between her fingers and floated to the ground. Immediately Charlie began to run. Her boots thunked against the cobblestones as she sprinted towards the corner where the cloacked figure had disappeared. She came to a halt as she spun around the building on the corner. At the end of the street, she spotted the figure which was now sitting astride a pale Palomino. The horse snorted, stomping his hooves anxiously.
The figure lifted her head to Charlie and then pushed back to cloak's hood, purposefully showing her face before yanking the reigns to draw the horse around in the opposite direction. The horse quickly responded and while the small amount of foot traffic still lingering did not allow for them to race off the streets, they were moving as quickly as was safe.
It had only taken Charlie that brief second to recognize the face. Without knowing it, she began to run again.
Present day
Friday evenings often found Charlie Jericho leaning against the brick front beside the door of the House of Retribution. Silently she would watch the foot traffic that passed down the cobblestoned street. There were merchants eager to get home to their families to enjoy a nice meal and plan the weekend's socializing. There were young women dolled up in their finest gowns with jewels in their elegantly styled hair off to one dinner party or another in their constant attempt to woe the richest, most handsome man possible into marriage. There were men anxious to free themselves of their work clothes to begin the night's trolling.
With her gaze hidden by a hat pulled down low to cast a shadow over her eyes, she would study them all intensely as they walked past. Observing life had become an obsession. Since her death she had failed to feel as if she could emulate living and, therefore, she had put herself to studying those who were doing it. To allow one's self to be passionate, to truly connect with those around you -- those were the qualities she wished to learn.
As the street began to be cast in the shades of purples and dark reds from the setting sun, Charlie finally pushed herself from her lean and began down the street herself to head for her home. She kept her head tilted downward, deeply hoping not to be recognized, while contemplating a quiet weekend night spent at home with her sketch pad and her dog, Slash, at her feet.
A small woman in a long shapeless cloaked bumped into her and whispered a soft, "Excuse me." The woman continued on without looking back, dark fabric swirling behind her. So enthralled was Charlie in her own thoughts that she took several steps before she recognized the voice. She slowed to a stop, watching the cloaked figure disappear around a bend. Her hands slipped into her pockets as her mind attempted to convince her heart that it was only her imagination.
Her right hand hit a small piece of paper in the pocket. She arched a brow as the hand cupped around the piece of paper and drew it out. On a perfectly square piece of fine paper was an ornate "N" in what appeared to be a henna ink. It was indentical to the tattoo between Charlie's shoulder blades, identical to the insignet ring that Tareth Thorn had ripped off her corpse and later destroyed at her request.
The square of paper slipped from between her fingers and floated to the ground. Immediately Charlie began to run. Her boots thunked against the cobblestones as she sprinted towards the corner where the cloacked figure had disappeared. She came to a halt as she spun around the building on the corner. At the end of the street, she spotted the figure which was now sitting astride a pale Palomino. The horse snorted, stomping his hooves anxiously.
The figure lifted her head to Charlie and then pushed back to cloak's hood, purposefully showing her face before yanking the reigns to draw the horse around in the opposite direction. The horse quickly responded and while the small amount of foot traffic still lingering did not allow for them to race off the streets, they were moving as quickly as was safe.
It had only taken Charlie that brief second to recognize the face. Without knowing it, she began to run again.
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Charlie Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 145
- Joined: Tue Nov 22, 2005 6:10 am
- Location: House of Retribution in the Old Market District of RhyDin
Talsiny City, Talsiny
Fourteen years prior
Charlie could still vividly remember the moment she met Henry Nausikaa and Arane Nausikaa Durante. Some of her memories from before her death were dull and took a great deal of concentration to remember fully. However, that particular memory was alive in her mind. She could access it with ease and often when she would walk past RhyDin's marketplace the roasting meat or a certain exotic incense would bring her back to that afternoon in the bustling market in Talsiny City.
Charlie Jericho had still been Charlotte Varro at the time. She was a lanky, gangly eleven year old runaway. There was little trace on her awkward features and stick-like figure of the confidant and vivacious woman that she would become. Yet, what she lacked at the time in looks, she made up for by being bold, daring, and fearless.
Those three qualities almost became her undoing that August afternoon but instead, thanks to Henry's kindness, had led to much more.
Charlotte had been lounging on the steps to the Santo Sirio Cathedral with several other young miscreants watching the activity and opportunity that the marketplace offered. They were pickpockets, scam artists, thieves. They used whatever means necessary to survive.
She had recieved an elbow to the ribs by the boy who was sitting next to her to get her attention. "Look," he said under his breath. "Nausikaa."
Her gaze whipped into the direction that he had indicated with his upward nod. A group of five of the now grown orphans strolled through the marketplace, admiring richly colored ribbons and purchasing the softest fabrics. The vendors called for their attention, brought their best merchandise forward from the bottom of their carts, and gratefully accepted the praise, money, or smiles that they were granted.
Henry Nausikaa led the group and it was him Charlotte Brown could not take her eyes off. He was clean-shaven with well-cut dark brown hair and statuesque features. While handsome, it was not the root of his charm. There was something deeper in his kingly manners and jovial smile that drew her in, that drew everyone in.
"I am going to pick his pocket," Charlotte announced to her group of peers gathered on the steps.
A chorus of gasps resounded at the statement. "They'll kill you!" spat out the boy beside her.
Yet Charlotte was already on her feet. "They'll only kill me if they catch me," she replied with a bright grin. She did not hear the rest of their naysaying as she was already slipping through the crowd towards the Nausikaans.
Fourteen years prior
Charlie could still vividly remember the moment she met Henry Nausikaa and Arane Nausikaa Durante. Some of her memories from before her death were dull and took a great deal of concentration to remember fully. However, that particular memory was alive in her mind. She could access it with ease and often when she would walk past RhyDin's marketplace the roasting meat or a certain exotic incense would bring her back to that afternoon in the bustling market in Talsiny City.
Charlie Jericho had still been Charlotte Varro at the time. She was a lanky, gangly eleven year old runaway. There was little trace on her awkward features and stick-like figure of the confidant and vivacious woman that she would become. Yet, what she lacked at the time in looks, she made up for by being bold, daring, and fearless.
Those three qualities almost became her undoing that August afternoon but instead, thanks to Henry's kindness, had led to much more.
Charlotte had been lounging on the steps to the Santo Sirio Cathedral with several other young miscreants watching the activity and opportunity that the marketplace offered. They were pickpockets, scam artists, thieves. They used whatever means necessary to survive.
She had recieved an elbow to the ribs by the boy who was sitting next to her to get her attention. "Look," he said under his breath. "Nausikaa."
Her gaze whipped into the direction that he had indicated with his upward nod. A group of five of the now grown orphans strolled through the marketplace, admiring richly colored ribbons and purchasing the softest fabrics. The vendors called for their attention, brought their best merchandise forward from the bottom of their carts, and gratefully accepted the praise, money, or smiles that they were granted.
Henry Nausikaa led the group and it was him Charlotte Brown could not take her eyes off. He was clean-shaven with well-cut dark brown hair and statuesque features. While handsome, it was not the root of his charm. There was something deeper in his kingly manners and jovial smile that drew her in, that drew everyone in.
"I am going to pick his pocket," Charlotte announced to her group of peers gathered on the steps.
A chorus of gasps resounded at the statement. "They'll kill you!" spat out the boy beside her.
Yet Charlotte was already on her feet. "They'll only kill me if they catch me," she replied with a bright grin. She did not hear the rest of their naysaying as she was already slipping through the crowd towards the Nausikaans.
Last edited by Charlie Nausikaa on Tue Oct 16, 2007 12:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Charlie Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 145
- Joined: Tue Nov 22, 2005 6:10 am
- Location: House of Retribution in the Old Market District of RhyDin
Battlefield Park, RhyDin
Present day.
Though her heart was pounding and her lungs burning, Charlie continued to run through the cobblestoned streets of the Old Market District. The cloaked figure was playing with her, allowing her to keep them within sight. If given free reign that horse could leave Charlie in its dust. It wasn't until they past free of the walls of the city into Battlefield Park that Charlie finally slowed.
Only then did she grow wary of a trap.
The last few rays of sunlight lit the small clearing she had come to a stop in. She raised her voice, forcing out any fear from her tone, "Arane! I know you're here. Show yourself!"
Somewhere in the darkness of the surrounding trees, a horse snorted. Charlie wiped her sweaty palms off on her jeans as she stared into that spot, attempting to make out the shadows within. "What is this about? What do you want from me?"
Finally, the cloaked figure came forward, leading the muscular palamino she had been riding and a chesnut mare. Her hood was pushed back and most of her blonde curls had fallen from the bun they had been in. Charlie's posture tightened further as Arane Ganderfald crossed the clearing and moved towards her.
"Why the games, Arane? If you wanted to talk to me, why not just do it?" Charlie said after her senses had assured her that the woman was alone.
Arane came to a stop and examined Charlie in the failing light for a moment. "I wanted to make sure that your guard wasn't around," she stated in a quiet tone.
Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. A part of her wanted to express her sorrow over their Edwin's death. The news had reached her and the pain of it ached anew seeing Arane before her. She willed herself not to be sucked in by the woman's charm. "What do you want?"
"I found out who killed Henry," Arane announced.
Only a moment was needed to collect from the initial shock. Steadfast resolve hardened her features and Charlie gave a quick nod. "Let's get going," she replied.
Present day.
Though her heart was pounding and her lungs burning, Charlie continued to run through the cobblestoned streets of the Old Market District. The cloaked figure was playing with her, allowing her to keep them within sight. If given free reign that horse could leave Charlie in its dust. It wasn't until they past free of the walls of the city into Battlefield Park that Charlie finally slowed.
Only then did she grow wary of a trap.
The last few rays of sunlight lit the small clearing she had come to a stop in. She raised her voice, forcing out any fear from her tone, "Arane! I know you're here. Show yourself!"
Somewhere in the darkness of the surrounding trees, a horse snorted. Charlie wiped her sweaty palms off on her jeans as she stared into that spot, attempting to make out the shadows within. "What is this about? What do you want from me?"
Finally, the cloaked figure came forward, leading the muscular palamino she had been riding and a chesnut mare. Her hood was pushed back and most of her blonde curls had fallen from the bun they had been in. Charlie's posture tightened further as Arane Ganderfald crossed the clearing and moved towards her.
"Why the games, Arane? If you wanted to talk to me, why not just do it?" Charlie said after her senses had assured her that the woman was alone.
Arane came to a stop and examined Charlie in the failing light for a moment. "I wanted to make sure that your guard wasn't around," she stated in a quiet tone.
Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. A part of her wanted to express her sorrow over their Edwin's death. The news had reached her and the pain of it ached anew seeing Arane before her. She willed herself not to be sucked in by the woman's charm. "What do you want?"
"I found out who killed Henry," Arane announced.
Only a moment was needed to collect from the initial shock. Steadfast resolve hardened her features and Charlie gave a quick nod. "Let's get going," she replied.
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Charlie Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 145
- Joined: Tue Nov 22, 2005 6:10 am
- Location: House of Retribution in the Old Market District of RhyDin
Talsiny City, Talsiny.
Fourteen years prior.
Charlotte leaned inward against the cart teeming with fresh fruits and vegetables as if inspecting a peach. While Henry Nausikaa was busy evaluating a ripe melon for freshness, she slid her hand against him. Her hand hit an inner pocket within his coat which was heavy with coins. The pressing crowd distracted him from any pressure against his side.
Suddenly, with an unexpected force, Charlotte was pushed against the cart the force of which caused the cart to rock a bit. Several pieces of fruit tumbled over the cart's lip. Henry Nausikaa pulled away, turning his gaze on Charlotte and her attacker. Just as he moved exposing her hand, another hand grabbed her wrist violently.
The crowd parted slightly, leaving the two alone in the center as a grumpy vendor began collecting his bruised fruit. Charlotte turned her gaze on the woman clutching her wrist tightly. She was several inches shorter than her and was staring back with an accusatory look. Charlotte recognized her immediately -- Arane Nausikaa Durante.
"Arane," scolded Henry. "What have I warned you about? Accosting young women on the streets now? Tsk! You should be taking care of yourself." He stepped forward once more to pry the woman's bony hand off of Charlotte.
"She was picking your pocket," growled Arane who released her hold.
Henry patted the soft fabric of Arane's dress outlining the gentle curve of the growing child within. The reminder was all she seemed to need as the tension was forced from her posture. Yet her icy gaze remained directed on the eleven year old girl before her.
Henry turned his attention on Charlotte, offering her his famous, and infamous, brilliant smile. "Do you know who I am?"
Charlotte pursed her lips into a thin frown before nodding in the affirmative.
The rest of the members of Nausikaa who had accompanied him looked on, curious to see how Henry would react to the situation. Henry's smile widened and he gave a great contagious laugh. The tension of the atmosphere immediately deflated as the surrounding crowd, except Arane Durante, could not help but laugh along.
"You're a brave girl," Henry stated as he inspected her carefully. In the shapeless, unwomanly form of Charlotte Brown there was not even the vaguest hint of the woman she would become. Her growth had been rapid over the past several years but her figure had yet to gain the curves which would later be her signature.
Yet, either Henry Nausikaa saw something within her or he had a soft spot for ugly ducklings.
His arms crossed over his chest and his voice lowered. The crowd that had been watching had begun to disperse as the possibility of violence and melodrama had been erased. "Where are your parents?"
"Dead, buried, and forgotten," murmered Charlotte.
"So are ours," he replied.
There was a long moment's silence between the pair. Finally Charlotte grew the nerve to straighten from her unconcious cower and look her would-be victim in the eyes. "I'm sorry about that."
Mischief twinkled in Henry's eyes. "About what? That my parents are dead or that you attempted to steal my money?"
Her tongue seemed thick and slow to react. "Both, I suppose."
Henry smiled once more. Her entire world seemed to brighten when he did. He reached out and patted the arm of the man standing beside him. He was tall with an almost equally stunning smile and a head full of red hair. "Patrick here is always on the look out for like-minded individuals to help out in our business. Are you not, Patsy?"
Patrick's gaze slid over Charlotte as if seeing her for the first time before sparing that smile on her. "Of course!"
"Good, good. I will leave you to discuss business," he stated as he offered his arm to Arane. "And, Patsy, pay the vendor for the bruised fruit if you would."
After shooting Charlotte a final glance, Arane demurely took the arm and started off through the marketplace with Henry. "I still need to find the perfect bedding for my little niece or nephew's basinet," Henry stated to them as the slid back into the crowd with Arane.
Patrick hung back watching Charlotte as her gaze followed Henry and Arane until they were masked by the crowd. She then turned back to the friendly face of Patrick. "It looks like you've been offered a job, little lady," he stated with a grin.
Fourteen years prior.
Charlotte leaned inward against the cart teeming with fresh fruits and vegetables as if inspecting a peach. While Henry Nausikaa was busy evaluating a ripe melon for freshness, she slid her hand against him. Her hand hit an inner pocket within his coat which was heavy with coins. The pressing crowd distracted him from any pressure against his side.
Suddenly, with an unexpected force, Charlotte was pushed against the cart the force of which caused the cart to rock a bit. Several pieces of fruit tumbled over the cart's lip. Henry Nausikaa pulled away, turning his gaze on Charlotte and her attacker. Just as he moved exposing her hand, another hand grabbed her wrist violently.
The crowd parted slightly, leaving the two alone in the center as a grumpy vendor began collecting his bruised fruit. Charlotte turned her gaze on the woman clutching her wrist tightly. She was several inches shorter than her and was staring back with an accusatory look. Charlotte recognized her immediately -- Arane Nausikaa Durante.
"Arane," scolded Henry. "What have I warned you about? Accosting young women on the streets now? Tsk! You should be taking care of yourself." He stepped forward once more to pry the woman's bony hand off of Charlotte.
"She was picking your pocket," growled Arane who released her hold.
Henry patted the soft fabric of Arane's dress outlining the gentle curve of the growing child within. The reminder was all she seemed to need as the tension was forced from her posture. Yet her icy gaze remained directed on the eleven year old girl before her.
Henry turned his attention on Charlotte, offering her his famous, and infamous, brilliant smile. "Do you know who I am?"
Charlotte pursed her lips into a thin frown before nodding in the affirmative.
The rest of the members of Nausikaa who had accompanied him looked on, curious to see how Henry would react to the situation. Henry's smile widened and he gave a great contagious laugh. The tension of the atmosphere immediately deflated as the surrounding crowd, except Arane Durante, could not help but laugh along.
"You're a brave girl," Henry stated as he inspected her carefully. In the shapeless, unwomanly form of Charlotte Brown there was not even the vaguest hint of the woman she would become. Her growth had been rapid over the past several years but her figure had yet to gain the curves which would later be her signature.
Yet, either Henry Nausikaa saw something within her or he had a soft spot for ugly ducklings.
His arms crossed over his chest and his voice lowered. The crowd that had been watching had begun to disperse as the possibility of violence and melodrama had been erased. "Where are your parents?"
"Dead, buried, and forgotten," murmered Charlotte.
"So are ours," he replied.
There was a long moment's silence between the pair. Finally Charlotte grew the nerve to straighten from her unconcious cower and look her would-be victim in the eyes. "I'm sorry about that."
Mischief twinkled in Henry's eyes. "About what? That my parents are dead or that you attempted to steal my money?"
Her tongue seemed thick and slow to react. "Both, I suppose."
Henry smiled once more. Her entire world seemed to brighten when he did. He reached out and patted the arm of the man standing beside him. He was tall with an almost equally stunning smile and a head full of red hair. "Patrick here is always on the look out for like-minded individuals to help out in our business. Are you not, Patsy?"
Patrick's gaze slid over Charlotte as if seeing her for the first time before sparing that smile on her. "Of course!"
"Good, good. I will leave you to discuss business," he stated as he offered his arm to Arane. "And, Patsy, pay the vendor for the bruised fruit if you would."
After shooting Charlotte a final glance, Arane demurely took the arm and started off through the marketplace with Henry. "I still need to find the perfect bedding for my little niece or nephew's basinet," Henry stated to them as the slid back into the crowd with Arane.
Patrick hung back watching Charlotte as her gaze followed Henry and Arane until they were masked by the crowd. She then turned back to the friendly face of Patrick. "It looks like you've been offered a job, little lady," he stated with a grin.
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Charlie Nausikaa
- Adventurer
- Posts: 145
- Joined: Tue Nov 22, 2005 6:10 am
- Location: House of Retribution in the Old Market District of RhyDin
The home of Charlotte Jericho, just south of RhyDin Proper.
Present day.
"Charlotte, we've got to go," came a brisk voice from the doorway. Arane stood in the doorway, keeping a careful watch. They were to take Henry's killers by surprise, therefore, there was no need to be watching for them. Instead, she was anxious to avoid the very man that Charlie had been hoping to find here -- Tareth Thorn.
She dropped her bag to her feet in the kitchen and picked up a pen beside a pad of paper. There had to be some words to describe the situation. She just couldn't find them. He would accuse her of still being stuck in her past, that the moment Arane Nausikaa came calling she ran off. He wouldn't understand. How could she make him understand?
The awkwardness of the two women being in that house again together and the memory of what happened last time they were both there together hung in the air between them. In the doorway, Arane gave a frustrated sigh and stepped out into the cool evening to escape it.
Charlie set pen to paper and at least managed to write the first word: Tareth. She then tapped the pen against the pad, staring at the word absently. She had told G'nort that she and Tareth had the perfect situation for both of them -- no relationship at all. There was sex and friendship without a messy commitment or promises for the future. Those things were simply not discussed. The word "love" had never come up.
There was a ball of guilt resting in her stomach to be leaving with her life so up in the air -- all of the things left unsaid to Tareth, a brand new contract with G'nort for the Iron Fists season, not being on speaking terms with Caedia. Yet, as much as she cared for her new friends, she could not deny Henry Nausikaa. With a heaving sigh, she jotted down a line on the paper and signed it.
Without looking back, she threw her bag over her shoulder and moved towards the door. She left in her wake a note that simply stated:
Tareth,
I'm sorry.
Charlie
Present day.
"Charlotte, we've got to go," came a brisk voice from the doorway. Arane stood in the doorway, keeping a careful watch. They were to take Henry's killers by surprise, therefore, there was no need to be watching for them. Instead, she was anxious to avoid the very man that Charlie had been hoping to find here -- Tareth Thorn.
She dropped her bag to her feet in the kitchen and picked up a pen beside a pad of paper. There had to be some words to describe the situation. She just couldn't find them. He would accuse her of still being stuck in her past, that the moment Arane Nausikaa came calling she ran off. He wouldn't understand. How could she make him understand?
The awkwardness of the two women being in that house again together and the memory of what happened last time they were both there together hung in the air between them. In the doorway, Arane gave a frustrated sigh and stepped out into the cool evening to escape it.
Charlie set pen to paper and at least managed to write the first word: Tareth. She then tapped the pen against the pad, staring at the word absently. She had told G'nort that she and Tareth had the perfect situation for both of them -- no relationship at all. There was sex and friendship without a messy commitment or promises for the future. Those things were simply not discussed. The word "love" had never come up.
There was a ball of guilt resting in her stomach to be leaving with her life so up in the air -- all of the things left unsaid to Tareth, a brand new contract with G'nort for the Iron Fists season, not being on speaking terms with Caedia. Yet, as much as she cared for her new friends, she could not deny Henry Nausikaa. With a heaving sigh, she jotted down a line on the paper and signed it.
Without looking back, she threw her bag over her shoulder and moved towards the door. She left in her wake a note that simply stated:
Tareth,
I'm sorry.
Charlie
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