Fourday. The Hanging.
Paris made her way through the stragglers still drawn to Justice at its ugliest. She had felt somehow responsible for the man's sentence, even though her name was not in the records as the judge who had condemned him. And her comrades had felt strongly that this execution might in somewise be related to the next Major Arcana, the Hanged Man. So she had known that she must be here although some small part of her whimpered at the cruelty of it all. The murderer, his crimes, his punishment. She hadn't felt at all self-conscious coming to a hanging in armor. It was her job to be prepared -- even if it had not proved necessary. At least she'd not be made later for class by having to armor-up.
She strode quickly toward the training courtyard, her mind still trying to fit the hanged criminal's prophecy to something recognizable. 'Two queens will fall and two kings will pass before the chariot comes to rest.' Something like that. The chariot. She and her friends assumed that that was the Warlord. The Charioteer. He who commanded the Fell and currently waged war on Tara. There was no reason not to accept that interpretation. For now, at least.
'Two kings'. That almost gave hope that there might be more kings in the world, that her Prince would not have to suffer the loss of his father for whom he obviously cared. The memory of her father's smile seemed to warm her for a moment, and she sighed. Yes. If only He did not have to live through that hurt as well; not now, not so soon.
But... she sighed again. 'Two kings' was just as likely to mean that the current King and then the Crown Prince would both 'pass', whatever that meant. Death, probably, as the Crown Prince could not be a king until his father died. And if they both died, the throne would come to the Princess. Would her husband be king? Would -- our Duke have to take on the mantle of the Emperor? That -- seemed almost more tragic. Prince William's father, brother and best friend -- all lost? And what about the poor Princess? The Party had taken an almost proprietary interest in her after they'd done whatever they'd done to bring her out of that coma. None of them would take kindly to any of these notions. Paris shook her head. She did not like any of these possibilities.
What did 'two queens falling' mean. Death again? Or merely ceasing to be queen. If the current king died, his queen would become dowager. If the Crown Prince became king and he too died, his queen would also no longer be queen. Queen Mother, perhaps. Did the Crown Prince have an heir already? No, probably not. Lorraine had said that Prince William was third in line, after his brother and sister. That came back down to the Princess becoming Queen.
Paris frowned. She still didn't know enough about politics and organization. Was a Queen's husband always King? It had been in the time of Queen Branwen. So -- if the Princess married the Duke -- as Lady du Gryphon had implied -- then the Duke would be King. And -- then -- Emperor. Cruel, cruel, cruel.
Well, not much could be done now. Study. Try to figure out more about kingship, if that would help. And pray for Him, that His cup be not too bitter. Paris shook her head and surveyed the courtyard. Time to make her apologies to Sir Gryphon.
Thus on Fourday, Paris returned to class after the hanging. A few of the class must have hailed her when they noticed her, and many would have smiled. But Gryphon no doubt kept the disruption to a minimum and pulled her into the day's practice fairly smoothly. After all, they've now faced orcs and giants themselves; there's no need for Paris' stories anymore.
Indeed, Paris had intended to apologize to Lord duGryphon for her late arrival, but stopped when she saw the frown on his face. "Nonsense. You got permission to go. And now you have a lot of work to do," he said, handing her the wooden practice sword. The class seemed, in some way, more intense. She realized part way through the morning practice that it was part excitement of the approaching test for the seniors, and part...and part they were all trying to impress her with what they had learned. Trying to measure themselves against her speed and abilities.
Morning class was martial drill and so it was only in a break from practice that Paris was able to look over the yard and notice that Simon was missing. Rodric, coming up to get a drink of water too, was near enough that she commented on Simon's absence. "Is Simon sick?" she wheezed at the tall boy.
Rodric stopped his slurp from the ladle, looking at her across the half full bowl. It was several moments before he could reply. "I'm sorry, Paris. He died in the battle, on the wall." He could see the color leave her face, and reached out one gauntleted hand to her shoulder. "It happened fast, and he was dead before any of the healers could get to him. There was a nice service for him and the others at the big church. The Prince even read the Lament." (She didn't recognize the term.) He looked at her another moment. "Now we all know what you mean when you talk about the orcs." A whistle from Gryphon called them, Rodric hurriedly slurped up the water and buckled his helm back on, as Paris fought tears for the young man who once escorted her to dinner when none of the others could stand to be near her.
Shocked at the news and wondering whether he would have even been able to have been in the battle if she hadn't cured his arm -- so long ago it now seemed -- Paris 'took' the next blow aimed at her, too wrapped in worry to have paid proper attention.
At lunch, the familiar herald had been there as they ate, instructing them in the names and emblems of the families of the land. Ewen had arranged to sit next to her with a grin as they ate and listened. She had been conscious of his knee bumping hers during the lunch. Afterwards, Lord duGryphon directed the different seniors to individual tutors, all to work on their weak spots. Paris was last.
The older knight had looked a little sad. "The Prince told me what happened yesterday," he said softly. "I don't think any of the regular tutors are needed for you, not any more. But I spoke with my wife, and she seemed to think there were some things she could teach you that we can't, down here." He nodded to one of the guards. "He'll take you to Lady Gryphon. Be sure you are back in time for riding practice."
Lady duGryphon looked her over, up and down. Self consciously, Paris was aware that Lorraine had told her that clothing must be suited to ones surroundings and circumstances. "I apologize for my appearance, Lady duGryphon. The guard brought me here with no time to change to something more appropriate."
Somehow, the shorter woman looked down her nose at Paris. "Those clothes are appropriate, Miss Paris. Do you believe there is a time when you should not comport yourself so that others respect you? Is there a time when slovenly appearance is appropriate for a Lady Knight? Straighten that top. Line up the buckle of the sword belt with the center of your body." After straightening Paris' appearance, she continued. "You must be graceful no matter what you wear, dear. No matter what you are doing. Now," she gestured at an empty high-backed chair. "You have come in from fighting to find the senior priest of Marcy sitting in the chair. How do you greet him?" And the afternoon wore on, as she instructed Paris in not only what to do and not do, but what to say and not say.
At the end of that class, Paris was dismissed to return to riding practice. Riding practice was not just jousting at the quintains, but a mad race around the courtyard, trying to snare ever smaller rings on the lance. The races were conducted two at a time, and the one with the most rings won. Ewen and Jules, of course, were the first around the course, whooping and hollering as they rode. It reminded her of the first day watching them, before she knew them at all, and she smiled. She was seated on her horse next to Rodric again. "What is all of this?" she asked him.
"Practice for the tournament," he said, looking quizzically at her. "You never saw the tournament?" he asked in surprise. "I guess you weren't ever in Westmore for the harvest festival. The tests, well, those are all done and watched by the senior knights. If you pass those tests, well, then you are knighted. The tournament, though, determines your standing. The younger boys fight in it, for practice, but it really comes down to the seniors. It's always been a senior who wins. About a quarter of the score is given for all the book studies, heraldry, law and such. About a quarter for the riding competition." He nodded to the next pair to race. "That's how that one runs. And half the score is from the personal combat. Whoever wins the tourney is the first from the class to be knighted, second place is second, and so on. And, each year, the Duke awards the best new warhorse from his stable to the winner of the tourney. So, the family is always happy to have their boy win." He looked over at her with a grin. "Well, of course this year, the one to beat isn't a boy, is it?" Gryphon called the two of them forward, and they rode the course. She didn't embarrass herself, but Rodric's greater familiarity with the challenge let him win by two points.
Gryphon called her over as the next pair in the class began their race. "Paris, the armorer is here. Got to get you fitted." She looked at him puzzled, her chain armor was still quite serviceable. "Tournament plate," he said to her unasked question. "The personal combat is done with live steel. Got to have the plate so we don't lose any students. We're going to get you fitted out, first practice is on Sixday." [Gryphon has quite a collection of plate pieces, including the only small suits of armor you've seen for the younger boys. Incidentally, the way I was thinking of running the tourney is that a blow has to do 3 stun points (or one body point) through the armor and your pd in order to count as a hit. This means that hits in the leg and arm don't much count; it also gives an advantage to using full strength in combat--of course that also carries a danger.]
[S: I noticed that the Players seem to assume that Paris will manage to be the winner. They don't seem to notice how badly I roll dice. I presume that practice does not show Paris to be particularly well advanced over her fellows. After all, they've been practicing all these months and she has been mostly just riding.]
[GM: Well, remember it is harder to buy up skills with only time. However, she would say that they have improved in skill, and some may be as skilled as she is. She is faster; she knows this because she matches them blow for blow at speed 3. Of all the class, she has a feeling that Jules and Ewen are holding back a little, perhaps not showing exactly how good they are. :) ]
[S: And I do see that it is probably of very great importance for Paris to actually win the tourney -- given that all the other candidates come from families well enough off to be able to provide them with a proper knightly steed. Even dubbed, Paris would be unable to provide herself with a warhorse, I think, given the obvious lack of money in the Party. I haven't even been sure where the money for new clothes is coming from, albeit Paris has to have new boy's clothes and a reasonable dress for SevenDay. Not to mention what the other PCs must need.]
At class end, Lord duGryphon nodded Paris over to the waiting female page. (My how quickly routine adjusts to her being back :-) Paris went up to the bath, and sometime around then Lorraine arrived, bubbling.
"Paris!" Lorraine practically squealed as the page ushered Paris into the bath room, gripping her friend in a diminutive bear hug. "I'm so glad you're back safe!" There were almost tears in her eyes as she pulled back a little. "I prayed for you every Sevenday. And after we heard there were orcs on the plains near Pelier, I prayed for you every night."
There was a little lump in Paris' throat as she looked down. She searched around for something safe to say. "Lorraine, you're going to get your gown all dirty. These clothes of mine are a mess."
"Oh, phooey," Lorraine replied with a smile, but released her friend to her bath. "A perfume that smelled like horse would probably attract these boys. Seriously," and her voice got as serious as she ever got, "I'm so glad you're back. We were all worried about you. And after the attack here, and Simon...." For a few moments, the only sound was the splashing of water. Her impish grin returned. "I understand from Cordelia that her brother's roommate also prayed every night, without fail. Not that he'll ever tell you, of course."
"You were all in my prayers too," Paris responded quietly.
There was something soothing about the warm water and Lorraine's chatter, as she went on about the others in the class. Suppositions on which of the senior boys and girls should or would be paired were the key concern. It was the same as before, but it seemed more urgent. A thought puzzled Paris. "Is there a graduation ceremony for the women as well?"
Lorraine looked surprised, then remembered who she was talking to. "Oh, nothing like the boys, of course. There's a big ball at the Festival, just the night before the tournament, where we officially join society. And, of course, we are 'always Lady This and Lady That'," she said, mimicking her mother's tone again. "We give our escorts to the Ball a favor for the tournament the next day, and of course we watch, 'always with proper and ladylike decorum.' Then, after all the ceremonies, we seniors just go back to our families, if there isn't a marriage in the offing. And a new group of girls joins the class." She cocked her head. "You've probably never seen a knighting ceremony, either, have you?"
"No. Only mentioned in lais I've read," Paris answered.
Lorraine looked off into the distance, trying to describe the image. "It's held in the palace throne room, after the candidate has completed his vigil. I don't know what happens in the vigil, the boys don't talk about it. I think they just have to stay up all night and guard something by themselves, and I would guess that the other knights make mock attacks or something. Anyway, they are dressed all in white, and there's a great white carpet that is rolled out for them to walk from the door to the throne. There are banners all hung along the sides of the throne room, with the one for the candidate's family hung at the front left, so it's in the place of honor. The room is usually packed with the family, friends, and so on. Usually his father will propose the candidate for knighthood; Dad will second it, confirming that he's passed all the tests. They ask a representative of the Council if there is any objection. There are some oaths that he has to take, and swear fealty, all that sort of stuff. Then the Duke announces all the candidate's new titles. If the candidate isn't from here, sometimes his liege will come here, otherwise the Duke gets a letter and does it in the other lord's name. I guess the Prince might do some of them, since he'll be here." She sighed. "It's as beautiful as a wedding, in a way." She broke her reverie. "Now, silly, I've been doing all the talking. Tell me of your trip. Meet anyone special?"
Paris gave a half smile. She was pretty sure that Lorraine would not think that the Librarians of Pelier and Lions or the padre at Lions counted as 'special'. "Well-- " Paris started slowly, "one could not say there was time to truly make anyone's acquaintance, but I did have a few moments of conversation with Rodric's father and with the Baron Emerald and the Count of Dungeon. Fine, brave, intelligent officers, all. At a different level of 'acquaintance', we did follow the quest to Fortitude, the Hermit, Murphy -- that is, Fortune, and Justice. All of those are more of the Major Arcana, like I told you of before. But the Emerald Baron has a son whom you would," she grinned, "I think call 'cute.' He seems to be a talented lieutenant serving to hold the line against the Fell up at Dungeon. But I did no socializing. Most of the people we met thought I was a boy, after all."
Lorraine grinned. "Oooh. The Emerald Baron is one of the King's most trusted advisors. Tell me more about this lieutenant. Another horseman, I presume. Did you see him fight?" [No need to actually respond to this, it's more of a segue to the next section.]
Paris paused to collect her thoughts. "We fought in a couple of battles at the wall at Dungeon. Which makes me want to know very much what happened in the battle here. Do you know much about how that was set up? What tactics our soldiers used and what the Fell used? Rodric --" she swallowed down the lump that threatened, "told me about Simon. Were -- were any other of -- our friends hurt?" Hastily, "It seems the healers here must have done wonderful work. I've seen none of the signs of a war hospital left...?"
Lorraine answered with gay seriousness. "Well, I do know that some of the other boys were wounded in the big battle. That's really all I saw of the fight. The wounded being brought in, helping bandage them, the priests helping the worst of them with spells. It was what we girls could help with."
Paris, "You were in the war hospital?"
Lorraine, "Of course. Most of the junior and senior women were just back from the wall -- part of what we girls learn is basic medic skill. We will be married to warriors, after all. And the lady of the estate is always responsible for seeing to its tenants' health and healing. Besides, who wants to stay cooped up like a frightened bird in the palace when there was something we could do!"
Paris, softly. "You are right. I should have guessed. The women here are just as brave as the men. I never doubted it."
The midnight starlight gown still fit Paris, although it seemed to pinch in a couple of places. She joined the other youths in the anteroom. Ewen, charming as ever, went through the formalities and Paris dined with him. Not at the Chivar's table. Probably at Lady duGryphon's as the eagle eye wanted to see just how badly Paris' manners had deteriorated in the past months. Paris could probably describe Lion and Dungeon and the Red River without falling into the "shop talk trap", those being places where, likely, the others have not been. At least not recently.
[GM: Side note: usually increasing body, con, or str is thought of building muscle and increasing the "size" of a person. However, this is only a guideline, not a rule, so it can be ignored.]
[S: I would like to keep Paris as one of the lean wiry ones. I've always thought that Paris and Calais probably have a build similar to that of Chris ... so slim that his strength is deceptive. Paris will never be thought of as buxom, I think. In a form-fitting dress it would be clear that she does have curves, but she's slim enough that the boy's bulkier attire tends to hide them.]
She thought it would be odd going back into the room after such an absence but it was the most natural thing in the world. As she entered, Ewen, looking taller and straighter than she had remembered, approached with that same charming smile. "Lady Paris. May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner?" There was a slight pause as his eyes searched hers. "It will bring back Magic to my life."
Paris smiled back at him. It was amazing how fast these people rushed in to fill up the empty places in her heart; she had missed him and his beautiful smile. "Lord Ewen. I would get great pleasure from your company this evening." She wanted to add, "Having brought only myself back this time, although there are tales of magic to tell, I think," but the words stuck in her throat partway through and she could only look at him.
"You brought back everything I was hoping for." He paused a bit, trying to figure out what to say. "You look well," he finally managed.
They chatted, a bit, starting with the uncomfortable exchanges of "you look well" and silences, but the formulaic bits of conversation let them both slowly get over an overwhelming nervousness. Ewen was actually laughing at the description of the guide from Lions when Rhori had convinced the bear to leave the cave -- when the steward banged the staff for dinner. As they moved to go in, a page interrupted them. "Lord Ewen. Miss Paris. The Lady duGryphon requests the honor of your presence at dinner." They accepted, of course, and Ewen turned to speak to her quietly. "Just like the first time," he said with his trademark grin. "Only this time I'm looking forward to the dance afterwards."
It was surprising how much of the proper behavior came back to her as she ate. Of those at her table, only the formidable Lady duGryphon had been as far north as Dungeon, so her tales of the travel interested all of them. It was difficult keeping away from discussing the tactics of the fights at the wall, although she noticed that even the other girls at the table were interested in that. Lady duGryphon's eyebrows got a workout keeping the conversation on track.
During half the meal Paris got to talk to Ewen, although with Lady duGryphon's ear within hearing distance. (You suspect most of the palace is within her hearing distance, where her students are concerned. :)) Somewhere in the conversations, Paris asked about the vines -- had they done well? [Paris still doesn't know from what direction came the attack or what properties outside town were damaged. This is a round-about way of finding out if, at least, his home was undamaged.]
Ewen: "I went out to see the fields last Sevenday. Paolo has about the same amount of land covered with mature vines as before the change." He seemed happy, or at least not troubled; that demon had at least been dispensed with. "Although I think the field hands are getting tired of these frequent harvests." He smiled at her. "Do you want to go see them?"
Paris: "Yes, yes I do. I realized while I was gone that I actually know very little about your home and family. And that they are an important part of you. I --," her colour rose just a tad, "I do want to know more."
She could tell his breath caught a bit. "Let me let my mother know. Perhaps we could picnic out by the fields, Sevenday after next? They are just being harvested now, so they will look a mess this one." He grinned. "How about if I come meet your brother this Sevenday? Then you come meet my family the next one?"
For a moment she wondered at the catch. Would he rather she not come? Or had she overstepped some new boundary? But he had asked if she wanted to see the farm. What else could it have meant? "What a wonderful solution. I'd told my brother I wanted him to meet you, but we couldn't figure out how to mesh our schedules. Sevenday is perfect. You'll get to meet most of my other comrades as well, I suspect." Paris looked a little wistful. "But I really don't want to put your mother out any. I don't like to trouble people. It's just that -- well, Maman and Papa and Calais and even our farm are so much a part of who I am. I can't imagine who I'd be without all that I've learned from them and their love. And -- well, you've been a best friend to me, ever since I joined our class. So I wanted -- it seemed logical -- ah," Paris shook her head and laughed at herself, then smiled up at him, determined not to read more into his words than the words themselves. "It sounds like a lovely plan, Ewen."
As they left dinner, Paris noted with surprise that Lord and Lady Chivar were there as well; she had been so wrapped up talking to Ewen that she hadn't noticed them. The concern she felt, though, slipped away after Ewen asked her to the first dance. She hadn't forgotten, she realized, as the music flowed through her; by the time it ended, her heart was beating faster. From the exercise. Ewen bowed to her, eyes smiling. "I thank you for the dance, Lady." He grinned as the formality left him. "I never thought I'd miss dancing. Come on," he said, offering his arm. "There's someone I think you'd like to meet."
Ewen continued as they stepped up to a smaller girl, "I'm sure you'll have a great deal in common. Lady Paris, Lady Bietrix." Real Girl said, 'I told you so' as Paris tried to make small talk with the younger, prettier, and more garish girl. Serious commented, 'If he prefers her, there is nothing to do but like her and wish him well.' Then, to add to Paris' confusion, Lady Chivar swooped over and managed to engage Lady Bietrix in a clever and cultured conversation that included Paris only, it seemed, at points designed to make her feel boorish and ignorant.
[Introducing Paris to Bietrix is one of those things guys do at this age, not realizing what he's doing. He finds Bietrix charming because she is paying so much attention to him; so, he figures that Paris will like her too. :) I don't think he is manipulative enough to think "aha, this will convince Paris she better hurry up," that doesn't strike me as Ewen's thought process.]
[No. Paris doesn't think that that is what Ewen is thinking either. It's as clear as can be that Ewen likes Bietrix and, as Paris is his friend, he wants Paris to like Bietrix as well. She's trying. But unless Bietrix likes travel or aspires to swordsmanship -- or has a gown that Paris can admire, they have very little to talk about. "Do you really want Ewen" is just not a topic that can be spoken. Paris can ask where Bietrix is from and about her favourite classes here and make comment on the weather, but if Bietrix isn't trying (and with Lady Chivar "helping", how could she?), it's not a comfortable conversation. And probably leaves Paris feeling that she should break her resolve and encourage Ewen, if only to keep him out of the clutches of someone Lady Chivar likes. Ungenerous thought.]
She was rescued by Rodric, who didn't really realize he was rescuing her. Apparently Lorraine pointed out to him that Paris was available and had just sat out an entire dance. :) Paris mentioned to Rodric that she met his father just before she left Pelier. Rodric wanted to know how he was, how his family was. He's a little disappointed to hear she saw him just before the cavalry was sent, he hasn't heard anything since then. He will pass on to Cordelia what you say. Paris did not mention that their father asked if Cordelia still waddles.
Paris did notice that Ewen also danced with Bietrix, among others. She couldn't help but wonder what she was really feeling about Ewen and Bietrix, whether she was being foolish keeping to the rules she had set for herself. Ewen came back for another dance, oddly enough just before the orchestra break. There was time to talk, if there were questions Paris wanted to ask him. It was likely that as the two of them stood there talking, some of the other seniors (those that weren't getting a breath of fresh air) wandered over to join in.
[This was where I had originally thought that Paris might mention the tests of Justice to Ewen and confess what her imagination had done to him.... But given the way the story went, that didn't happen and, in fact, I think that Paris was probably upset enough by the conclusion and the ramifications of the after math of the interview with Justice, that she had forgotten about the tests themselves and, normally, would remember them when she got her next opportunity to talk with the Prince. Then the question she'd earmarked for him would be remembered. As it is, it looks like Sevenday brings the memories back somewhat more forcefully. Besides, if others come over to listen, that in itself would probably stifle the Trials conversation.]
Paris excused herself as soon as was appropriate and left. She returned her gown to the dressing chamber, climbed back into her normal boy's clothes, slung her gear over her shoulder and headed home to Jouet Square, feeling like this home-coming had been nothing but test after test, the smaller ones seeming almost as sore as the big ones.
In this state of mind, she stepped around a haycart blocking her way and found herself snared and assaulted. A vicious blow to the stomach and another to the shoulder rendered her unconscious in the midst of trying to tear out of the net. She woke not long thereafter to find that her assailants were now fighting an indistinct figure on horseback. His wild and ferocious sword thrusts were immediately recognizeable to her trained eye. Jules! Two of his attackers were already on the ground. As quickly as she could manage, she stood, sloughing off the remains of the hooked net and drawing her sword. Her first blow was feeble; apparently she was woozier than she'd thought. Jules was clubbed heavily in the chest, but managed to take down another. Between them, Paris and Jules finished off the last three.
Panting and afraid that he had taken serious damage, Paris reached up towards her rescuer and said, "May -- I pray for you." Brusquely, with something akin to desperation in his voice, he answered. "There is not time. I do not bleed. No one must know there was a horseman here. Kill them. Do you understand? No one must know."
Somewhat taken aback, Paris said, "May we talk -- later -- of this?"
Still wracked with some emotion Paris could not fathom, "This should never be spoken of."
Bewildered, Paris said, "I -- I do not understand. But I will do as you ask. Thank you. I owe you my life."
"Only your honour." Paris choked in dismay as he continued. "You were to be found naked in a stable, the victim of a horse kick in the midst of amorous passion."
Flabbergasted, Paris could only stare as he kicked his horse into motion and rode away.
She turned and started the job of ensuring her attackers spoke no more. She did not check to see if the deathblow was necessary. Some of these probably were already dead. Suddenly a lion's roar startled her in mid-strike. She collapsed. Part of her knew that Calais must have known she was in trouble, and her comrades were on the way. Shakily she rose to finish the job. Her blade fell as Hobbes appeared and ravaged each of the final fallen.
She slumped next to the lion, feeling his warmth, his wild odor helping to mask the smell of blood. How had Jules come to be there? How had he known what these -- creatures -- had intended to do to her? Why would they do such a thing? Part of her was marveling at his heroism -- even more so if (it was almost unthinkable) his mother had hired these ruffians... but why? Surely Paris wasn't such a threat to the Chivar prestige and power that she must be falsely shamed? That just made no sense. But, Jules had found out -- someway -- and come nobly to her rescue. Another part of her was wondering if Jules would accept a bit of help from her. Just a bit of discipline to those blows and he would be truly formidable. She grinned wryly at herself, planning on giving pointers to another student. Who, after all, had made such a poor showing tonight?
Calais and the others came pelting up [and the rest of this section is probably in Don's notes.] And -- due to Paris' reluctance to answer questions properly concerning the attack, Calais' alarm started turning into anger at his sister.
[GM: Glad you made the deduction about the person that hired the attack to be done. It should also occur to you that hiring such an attack against a person in the Prince's service in a declared time of war... well, that would be tantamount to treason. That gets worse than the average capital punishment.]
[S: That's the rub. Lady Chivar has been the only one to actually seem willing to hurt Paris in any available way. Others hate Paris for similar reasons, but the only other ones that have shown their feelings overtly have been knights. And it would be a hideously unknightly thing to have hired thugs to ruin Paris. It might be necessary, but Lady Chivar seems the more likely candidate. But -- treason!?! It's almost unthinkable that _anyone_ would find Paris worth that. But if treason was the intent, Paris is just a stepping stone and the real victim, in the long run, is supposed to be the royal family/Prince William.
[GM: That Jules chose to help you, and prevent the treason, rather than just let it go through, which would be safer for him and his family, may be the first really positive thing you've seen about the lad. Perhaps there is something of his father in him after all. :) But, just as you guessed who ordered the attack on you because you knew your rescuer, anyone else who knew he was there would come to the same conclusion. Even if they only knew there was a horseman there, and could check to see if any horsemen left the palace that night, they would find him.]
[S: Paris had thought there was mettle in the man. She had certainly hoped so if he were to be worthy of Lorraine. Actually, I may have missed some description, but I rather had assumed that Jules masked himself. That it was only his style that gave him away to Paris. Then, of course, his voice. But she was careful not to call him by name in case there were listeners.]
[GM: And, though it may not have been clear last night [in the game session], Paris has learned enough of how things work to know that merely killing her would have been a setback to the Prince's plans--but having her shown to be an um, er, animal lover, would have destroyed it all, because it would have shown the Prince as being an inaccurate judge of people. He has put a lot of personal prestige on the line behind you. So, you can conclude that the Prince will have to protect his investment -- and if he knew Lady Chivar ordered the attack, Jules would lose his mother. Or possibly the Duke would lose the head of his horse.]
[S: Well... no it wasn't clear. Sheryl could still hear the Duke telling Alexis that Paris was expendable. But, now that I think about it, yes, the Prince has committed a great deal -- his judgment, his leadership, his desirability as a patron, the future of his Order, all come to mind -- on Paris being successful.
And I can also conclude that by getting Paris to agree to silence, Jules has insured that she, at least, won't denounce his mother. How he can continue to prevent her treasonous path -- I can almost see a Hamlet and Gertrude-like scene somewhere later in the story train -- is beyond me. I don't think he planned on having to be Paris' guardian angel.]
[GM: Sorry to do all this to you. The story kind of requires it; it is not quite enough to say that "intrigue exists in the palace, and not all orcs have pig faces." And, I know from personal experience how much trouble women have being the first to intrude in a field. :(]
[S: The worst, so far, has been not being able to tell Sir Gryphon the full truth. It will be worse yet, I suspect, if Prince William learns of this and questions her. I think she will have to admit that she had help but is not at liberty to have her aide identified. I suppose that a deduction roll might be necessary to decide whether even that is breaking her word to Jules.....
I do need to find a way to get her a bit of "happy" to offset the strain of:
On top of the minor matters of becoming a lady knight and solving the creation of the Emperor problem.]
Fifthday. Questions.
In class the next morning, an officer came in and spoke with Sir Gryphon. Paris was gestured over. She glanced around at her classmates, noting where Jules was and moved over to the two men. "Paris," Sir Gryphon's voice was harsh, "Were you attacked last night on your way home?" Paris, quietly, "Yes, sir." "And you took down all six?" Paris hesitated. This was going to come perilously close to lying. Firmly she resisted glancing back at Jules. She looked down at her hands instead. "They counted six on the ground when it was all over, sir. I don't know. I was awfully busy." "SIX, Paris? I know you're good, but..." The officer leaned over and said, "Some of them looked -- clawed, sir." Sir Gryphon gazed at Paris steely eyed. "Y-yes," she stuttered slightly, "my brother felt I was in trouble. He and our friends came -- and Rhori sent his lion on ahead. He -- he helped me." "Ah, the lion," Sir Gryphon sounded somewhat relieved, "that must have been it." His eyes continued to bore into Paris. "Why would the Ravens have attacked you, Paris?" Ravens? she thought. The ring Mia pointed out to me. It must be a band symbol. A band of cutthroats. "Do you have gambling debts?" he continued. Stung, Paris stood straight and looked him in the face. "No, sir! I do not gamble. I have no such debts." Sir Gryphon continued, "Your brother, then?" Troubled, Paris hesitated, "No, sir, not to my knowledge." "I see," Sir Gryphon continued to watch her closely. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me, Paris?" "N-no, sir." But part of her wailed. 'One more door closed. One more person with whom you can no longer talk. How much loneliness can you stand!? Why did he want your silence? Why did you agree?' Sir Gryphon waved Paris back to class while he resumed discussing with the officer how a lion could have added to the body count.
Up with Lady duGryphon again, the formidable Lady first checked Paris over carefully, adjusting her appearance yet again. "Today, Miss Paris, we are going to discuss meeting Royalty on an informal basis. It is never, of course, really informal..." and she continued on with directions. "Now, for practice, go into that room and greet the Princess. I will follow."
Paris curtsied to the Lady, a shorter gesture that they had worked out yesterday as being appropriate when she was still in her riding and fighting gear. Composing herself, she tried to imagine the Princess sitting in the chair that had yesterday been the senior priest of Pelier. She entered the room and stopped short. The Princess really was sitting there, a small smile on her face. "Miss Paris, how nice of you to come," she said, as Paris hastily recalled the proper moves she and Lady duGryphon had just discussed. "Come here and sit down there," she said as Paris tried to recover, gesturing to a small seat just enough lower than hers to be proper. "I wanted a chance to get to know you. Lady duGryphon, please join us" and she nodded and gestured for the older woman to also be seated. "I've heard a bit about you from my brother and Lord Evan, of course. A lot of facts, and no real information." She sat back, relaxing, eyes still on Paris. "Why do you want to become a knight?" she asked in a gentle voice.
"Why?" Paris repeated. "Um. Um. Two reasons, I think, your Highness. The first," Paris reddened slightly, "was a childhood dream -- an ambition -- based on the lais I had read -- of being honourable and brave, pure and noble, of -- being able to help the weak and -- and rescuing ladies fair." Paris was now up to a fully-fledged blush. "To -- to live up to an ideal." She paused for a heart beat. "The second is that the Astrean Guard consisted originally of people who were knights in their time and -- and I want to -- to be worthy of the card that chose me. I -- want Prince William to be proud of the Guard -- to not have to be -- content with less than what it was originally."
The Princess listened with a gently smile. "In my childhood, it was fighting pirates. I thought it unfair that I couldn't command a ship and chase them down, boarding their vessel by swinging across the rigging and defeating the pirate captain in a frantic sword duel. Making the seas safe, being one of the captains of legend." Paris could hear Lady Gryphon's eyebrows marching up her head. "Honor, bravery, nobility, wanting to be worthy; no reason we shouldn't want that as bad for ourselves as the men do. Tell me, how do you manage the tough schedule of classes and the dance without staying here in the palace?"
Paris grinned. "It's an opportunity I'd only dreamed of. And I am young and strong. It is of little matter to give up some sleep when there is so much I am allowed to learn." Paris was genuinely enthused about the opportunity and the lessons. "People," she smiled in gratitude at Lady duGryphon, "have been so very kind. The only real difficulty I've found is that there is so little time for some of the chores that do occasionally need doing -- clothes, shopping and mending, you know. Or to explain to my brother what I need. He doesn't really understand how some of my -- tastes -- have changed." She laughed lightly. "And he really knows more about clothes the way actors use them than the way a student here does. He's busy studying with Master Irolo so I shouldn't abuse his good nature so anyway, or tempt him to skip studies to earn a bit. I'm lucky to have him, even if he seems to know what I'm thinking 'way too often." Her smile shifted into something more serious. It hurt to keep secrets from Calais.
Apparently the Princess missed the change in Paris' expression. [Yeah, right.] "Lady Gryphon," she said, excited at the thought that had occurred to her. "This may be a solution to a problem that has been vexing me. As this court is a lot less formal than Pelier, there were several of my servants who have been finding difficulty filling their time. If you know of a seamstress who has her measurements, perhaps they could help with Paris' habiliment." She nodded to Paris. "If you wouldn't mind."
"Your - your Highness," Paris managed to swallow her astonishment. "I -- I," she glanced ruefully at Lady duGryphon, "would not mind. I -- would be most grateful."
[After Paris answered, the princess asked a question about the brother she'd mentioned, leading on to the next section.] There were questions about her brother, her friends; gentle questions that the princess really seemed to listen to the answers to. A story about Calais elicited a similar story from her about one of her brothers; and by the end of the afternoon it was difficult to think of her as a mythical Princess but rather as Carline.
Paris marveled on the difficulties the Princess must have had coping with two brothers. And she mentioned -- with a touch of hesitation -- how Rhori had worried that the Party had had to touch the Princess in getting her away from the doppleganger-creature.
"Oh," the Princess waved her hand dismissively. "I thought Silverlocke had cleared that up by requesting aid. He is a Protector of the Blood, you know." She noted the lack of understanding on Paris' face and smoothly continued, missing barely a beat. "Among his other titles. Empowered to do whatever, even manhandle the King himself, to protect any of us." She smiled. "I had a crush on him once, when I was younger. I think, now, that he kind of reminded me of my father. He certainly seemed like all the ideals I had, bravery, skill, and honor, all rolled up into one impossible package. Fortunately, he knew how to keep a young girl with stars in her eyes at a distance, without hurting my feelings. Now we are the best of friends."
Paris listened, not knowing what the emotions flashing through her really were. But she did manage to admit softly, "I know what it is to have a living ideal. It -- is a struggle -- to realize -- that no one can be so perfect -- though I have seen no imperfection yet. It -- is good to think -- we could become friends."
Carline softly shook her head, a gentle smile still on her face. "In your memory, that one will never be imperfect. But, someday if you are lucky," and her voice got a little dreamy, "you'll meet someone with imperfections that fit your own. Your ideal may be without fault, should be, but with luck you will love someone real."
Paris looked at the princess with a combination of wistfulness and the sense that she was about to border on impudence. "I have found, your Highness, that with the time and effort needed to simply talk and get to know someone, that they become real for me. And frequently no less admirable. You have given me that gift of yourself this day, making one more duty a true pleasure. I know that those who display my ideals for me have put in the effort to overcome their versions of the weaknesses I face in myself, a striving that I cannot see but must admire. All ideals are real somewhere, I think. And the fact that they are human always gives me hope and encouragement."
Lady duGryphon interrupted. "Your Highness, she needs to return to practice now."
The Princess stood. "Yes. But before she does." She reached around her chair to a large package, that she lifted with both hands and passed to Paris. "My brother and the Duke can sometimes be fools." Paris knew her well enough now to know she didn't really mean that. "They think it would send the wrong message for either of them to gift you what you need. I, fortunately, have no such problem. I watched your test of Justice, Paris. You did well, very well. And I noticed that your shield was destroyed. This one is metal faced, and will not damage quite so easily. I understand they are difficult to find right now, but I want you to have this. It is blank now, but when you have earned your knighthood come back and I will see that it gets properly emblazoned."
[Mechanics notes: Metal faced large shield is the same addition to your DCV, but it has a higher defense and body, so it doesn't break as easily. It is also heavier, but not in any important way.]
Paris gasped. "Your Highness, I thank you!" [The Princess went to the armory for Paris! Wow!]
The Princess continued. "While my brother and Evan cannot easily meet you, I can. Just send me a message that you want to meet with me and I will make time for you. Mark it urgent if it is urgent, and I will do what I can." She studied Paris for a few moments. "There are a lot of us rooting for you, girl. You go show them what we can do. Now, ladies, I thank you for your time. You are dismissed, and may God speed you both in your work."
Paris managed her curtsy-bow. There were some truly wonderful ladies in this castle.
Back at riding practice, she went through the exercises, this time competing against Jules, who beat her by four points worth of rings.
[It's a test of jousting/ lance work. From this, you would guess that Jules has a better riding roll than you and maybe a better attack roll with lance. Unless he just has better dice. :) Remember that armor subtracts both from dcv and dex rolls, so levels to cancel armor minuses will help with your riding roll. And, generalizing your level to knightly weapons will help also.]
As she led her horse over to the stables, she noticed a commotion as some more men came into the courtyard. It was the Prince with his guard, one of whom took the horse from her so she could speak with the Prince. "Paris. I'm glad to see you are well," he began. "I heard about the attack on you last night. Just looked at the bodies." He paused, his eyes narrowly studying hers.
Paris could feel the colour draining from her face. It was coming. What could she say?
The Prince continued. "Please thank Miller for the aid his lion gave you. I think, though, that this was no accidental mugging. If they hadn't known you were such a good fighter, why would they use the net? If they did know you were so good, why attack you with clubs? I believe they were trying to kidnap you, but I don't know why." His eyes were fixed on her face, studying it closely, almost boring into her skull. "But you know why, don't you? And you didn't come forward and say why. So you have a reason to not say." There was a long silence as he studied her, weighing his options. Finally, he seemed to ... not relax, exactly, but the fierce intensity turned off. "I have good reason to trust your judgment in matters of Justice," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "I will not ask you what you know, or order you to tell me. Only, you are still in danger. Is there anything you judge that I must know to protect you from that danger? Anything you need?"
"My Lord Prince," Paris' voice shook a little in reaction. "Thank you! It should be my job to protect you from danger. You, this kingdom, and the virtues you represent. You warned me there was danger; I was too -- young -- to understand. Now I will be more cautious. My brother or Rhori Miller will now company me on my walks home at night. I -- have no idea what else is needed. I cannot change who and what I am -- and I would not shirk my classes or my duties for fear of danger. What would you have me do?"
He glanced around the emptying courtyard. "Well, Paris. If possible, I'd like you to stay here at least a week so Sir Gryphon can tell how you are coming along in your other studies. I think it best if you and those who help you can find something to use as the Rod and Orb, as you described. I have a few others to ask as well, but... In some way, meeting the Tarot figures is important, and your group is further along that line than any of the others I know about. And, if the Hanged Man does see the future, then you may have an opportunity for getting great help in defeating the Warlord." He looked around the courtyard again. "I must be careful in what I say. It would be very useful if you recover the two items before the Harvest Festival. And again, it is important for you to be here for that time." He smiled at her. "Anything you want to ask?"
Paris smiled ruefully. "Many things, Your Highness. Few that I seem to find words for and those I can find words for just do not seem appropriate at the time. Someday I do hope to talk with you about a few items of Law and Justice..." she smiled, "but they have no impact on the Warlord or the Tarot figures. And I would like to know your thoughts on -- what Justice gave me. But I don't know that this is the time or place. I will tell my friends we must prepare to go and return by Harvest Festival."
The Prince grinned at her. "I understand you are the only one to ever make it to dinner after cleaning the stables. I think we have time for one or two questions on Law and Justice," he looked up to glance around at the courtyard, still enough full of people, "so long as some care is taken in the subject. What would you ask?"
Paris grinned back. "I had friends who were bound and determined I should make it. It was no virtue of mine, I assure you, your Highness." She became more sober. "I think we could spend long discussions on Law and Justice, my lord. I presume that there is no great secrecy about the tests I was -- supplicant -- to? I did not fully understand your assessment of the two barons' case and would understand that better. It had occurred to me that, in my decision, I had made no provision for the fact that more of Sangette's people had settled the vale and that recompense probably needed to be made either for their losses to Corvint or to Sangette for Corvint's annexation of some of his people. And ensuring that Sangette's water supply would not be compromised was also something I had not looked into....." She trailed off ruefully then added, "Considerations important to the farmers involved, your Highness. And one of those probably long after-hours discussions that I cannot have with just myself." She smiled.
The Prince nodded. "Yes, occasionally water is a problem. Not every place is as well watered as here." He grinned at her. "Settling disputes between Lords is one of the jobs I hate the most. Father has sent me off to do that a couple of times. You got off light, they got their cases explained in a remarkably short time. Usually, you have to listen to a long sequence of not-very-good storytellers explain each and every infraction that had ever occurred between the two lands. Gives me a headache every time, but you can't show it." He sighed. "What I've learned is that it is seldom possible to actually settle the dispute. But you can tamp it down. If the two Barons are any good at war, they will recognize strong and weak defenses. If you can draw the line where each have a strong defense, there won't be any serious fighting. So, that's why I would have awarded the whole Vale to one or the other--if it was tough to get to it, it would be defensible, so whoever was already there would have the advantage. It usually takes a three to one advantage to be sure of an assault, more if there are walls and fortifications and such, which didn't sound like it was the case." He looked around again. "Of course, if one of the Baron's isn't any good at war, then they might attack anyway. Such problems usually resolve themselves." He sighed. "I usually try to solve these cases so that the smallest number of people die."
Paris nodded soberly. "I must learn how to evaluate that also." She gave a half smile. "I got a headache too, just from what little that Test said. Maybe it is an occupational hazard with Justice? Justice warned me that my trials had been easy; almost no one had lied. It must take far, far longer in reality when people are free to lie or to say what they only think is the truth."
The Prince returned her nod. "Truth is a very slippery thing. You can listen to two people, each describing the same thing, and hear two totally different truths. And each of them will fully believe in the truth that they see."
Paris was starting to get into the intellectual swing of the discussion. "There are so many paths of logic that could be looked into. In the Vale case, there was the fact that although there were more of Sangette's people there and longer, still they found it more expeditious to ask for aid from Corvint. And, of course, there's the question of how the bandits had come to be organized and a threat there." With a tinge of admiration, "Ah, the real judgments must take much study." A thought struck her and she became as impish as Paris gets. "Did someone set you to reading Law on your way to Lions? The librarian and padre there remember you fondly. They complimented you on the 'young man' now in your service. A scholar like you were. But they scolded me too. I provided some amusement, I think, by only skimming the book they had set me to study." Paris looked half-ashamed, half-amused. "I had a lot of trouble reading the old-style language it was written in and only had the afternoon."
The Prince looked a little puzzled. "Lions. That was a couple of years ago. The Padre and the Librarian there, I think I remember them. Liked to argue over checkers? Padre a little portly, the Librarian was a Know Man? I think everything provides them amusement. But what do you mean by old-style language?"
Paris filed away the thought, 'Ah, that was a Know Man.' She responded, "Yes, that was they. It was a book written by the Know Men, the Librarian said; one of the Liberation books. It gave me the clues we needed to find Fortitude. The language was twisted, verbs at the end. 'And the inside colors home were bright as, brighter still, and the flowers inside, and the dogs and lions in the blink of an eye came, and our fortitude she did applaud. Among the flowers, Iravian was, we buried, after the dogs. Left we saddened, and the sky cried'," she quoted the passage that she'd memorized. "Because of it, though, we went to Dungeon in search of other liberation books with other clues. Now they make me wonder if the first Know Men lived in the time before the mirror broke."
The Prince had a faint smile. "Yes, that sounds like Knowmish sentences. So that's what let you find Fortitude. Good work."
Paris continued. "For that matter, if explanations have to be made down the line, I told only Baron Emerald that I was not a boy. I -- did not like to deceive him." She looked rueful. "He said -- that he would rather deal with weekly orc attacks -- than the task you have taken on with me." [I figure that those were things that probably did not go into the official reports.:-)]
Prince William made no comment.
Paris, more carefully, "You have our reports from our questing, your Highness, and what we learned concerning the Keys. I -- was wondering -- what connection you thought -- the key -- Justice gave -- had to that. I -- feared I had accepted something that -- by rights -- belongs to you."
He got a wan smile on his face. "I hope you aren't going to take this wrong, Paris. As I understand these Orders, they are a hierarchy, with more secrets and abilities given to those higher in the Order. The ordinary route of development, though, was upset by the breaking of the Mirror." He held out his hand, she blinked but could see a Key appear in it, and then his hand closed around it. "Each full member of the Order has a Key. The actions of the members of the Orders are driving up the heads of the orders, since Silverlocke and I cannot leave to go pursue these tests. Miller, with help from his friends, accomplished the tests of Fortitude and that meant that Silverlocke did not need to go do them himself to gain his companion. And I did not have to pass tests of Justice to gain my Key. Your actions made my path easier." He paused, studying her face. "There is still a price we must pay. But it is easier because of what you have done."
He stretched. "As for what the Key can do. It opens certain special locks. As you see, you can have it in your hand any time you need it. But...you have to understand what to do once you have opened the lock, and that is why the long process to get a Key and make it active. Is that what you wanted to know?"
Paris had clasped one hand in the other, knowing that her key had disappeared into it. "I -- see. Yes -- it is an answer. I am glad my actions -- in somewise are a help to you, to the Order. But -- the prices paid," there was a stinging in her eyes but she tried to look at him, "that I know of -- have been -- are -- already high. I am sorry." Her voice trailed off, unwilling to ask anymore.
He waited, watching her for a bit. When it was clear she wasn't going to speak further, he nodded. "You'd best go get yourself ready. I don't want Lady Gryphon to berate me for making you late for dinner."
Unconsciously, Paris gave her tunic a tug and centered her sword belt. She gave a graceful bow and said, "Thank you for your time, Your Highness. I -- enjoy our discussions; you always give me much to think about."
[S: Ah, I do not think that the Party is correct in thinking that Paris is part of The Key. Clearly the parts of The Keys are the Major Arcane associated with The Key of Man and those associated with The Key of Nature. All must be in the world and visited for the personal keys of people like Paris to function. Clearly it is the personal keys (one of each) that can open the 'gates' between Tarot and Torat. There must have been such at the mirror Juda broke. We certainly saw one between us and the Empress. The Orders thus are designed to safeguard "their" parts of the Tarot. Such, at least, is my current theory.]
[GM: Well, recall that Juda said he used "his Key." That does imply that each member at a certain level has a key. When the Prince inducts new members, they won't have keys, but will have to earn them as you have.]
Evening supper and dance. Jules actually asked to escort her to dinner. After the formalities, he nodded to her. "My father really wanted me to ask you to join us for dinner last night, to hear first hand all those things Lady duGryphon would frown on, but Lord Ewen was just a touch faster with his arm. So, I am very pleased to be able to sit with you tonight. Very pleased, indeed." Looking in his eyes, she could see what attracted Lorraine, he does have a handsome face and eyes that really pay attention to her.
Paris's eyes searched that handsome face. This was the man who came to rescue her honour in defiance, she had no doubt, of his family's interests. His mother's, at least, she corrected herself. Softly she said, "I too am very glad to be able to sit with you tonight, my lord. My thanks." There was undoubtedly a sort of appeal in her eyes after she expressed this gratitude.
"I understand you saw Pelier on your travels," he said, escorting her to the table. "What did you think of it? Is it not a magnificent city?" The conversation was kept light, but spirited.
Real Girl noticed that Ewen indeed sat with Bietrix, and she often heard sounds of laughter from that table. Paris danced, of course, with Jules first, then Ewen, and a chain of others as she tried to tire herself out. She wanted to dance until she was too tired to think. Thinking about Bietrix and Ewen was giving her a headache.
[GM: Bietrix is not very beautiful. Paris has seen beautiful, in the strong lines of Lady duGryphon's face, in Lorraine's incredible vivacity, the classic beauty of the Princess. Bietrix is still a little rounded, still has some growing up to do. Oh, sure, she is comely enough -- and money always makes one look better. But to Paris' now practiced eye, she wears too much makeup, and her bust size has changed since last night. Yes, six months ago, Paris would have been impressed, but not now. Serious can say that Bietrix is beautiful, over Real Girl's wails, but Paris knows it isn't quite true.]
[S: Well, Real Girl is developing a properly artistically trained eye, but that does not seem to have made her see herself any more clearly. Clearly she still believes herself not beautiful; thus, in comparison, Bietrix must be very pretty. No, she's not impressed. But she is trying to see through Ewen's eyes. She wants to admire Bietrix for his sake. I don't dare put points into COM or to buying off the PsychLim even though it is obvious that, with Lorraine's help, I could. Steve would have a cat-fit. Particularly when I have already given "his" points away.]
[GM: Oh, you can still think you are inferior in beauty, that's not an issue. But if you ranked the beauty of the women in the class, Bietrix is not in the upper half. Maybe when she grows out of her 'ugly duckling' phase. No, she's busy pursuing Ewen; that's what makes him attracted to her. :) Boys, what can you do with them? :) ]
[GM: There is, of course, one place where Paris could talk with Jules privately. But, boy, would a lot of people -- including Jules--misunderstand that.].
[S: No. She could never let Ewen think that she would walk out with Jules before she would walk out with him. Much as she wants Jules to talk and at least clarify his expectations. She does not want to be forced to lie for him. But right now she will have to either do that or -- more likely, simply refuse to answer certain questions.]
Rhori and Hobbes escorted her home.
As soon as she got home, Paris pulled Calais off to the side. "Have you any involvement with the Ravens. Do you know anything about them?" His bewilderment was enough of an answer. Then they went back to where the other companions were waiting to talk. Paris posed the same question -- and had to explain to Rhori that the Ravens she referred to were not the big black crow-type birds but, rather, a gang of thugs. Possibly some of the people that attacked her the previous night were Ravens. Various members of the Party suggested that they could go investigate and find out more about the Ravens. Paris demurred, stating that if they aren't involved with such a group it was better not to become involved.
Sixday.
Martial practice. This time in plate armor.
Lady duGryphon. Riding practice. Lorraine. Dinner dance.
Meanwhile, Rhori and Calais went bar-hopping, trying to learn about the Ravens. They arrived at the palace in time to escort Paris home.
Sevenday. Insult & Injury.
Everyone but Mia went to the White Church
The duGryphon carriage with two attendants and a horseman arrived while people were still milling around the church door. Ewen dismounted and escorted Lorraine and Cordelia from the carriage. Lorraine beamed at Paris who moved happily to greet her friends. Various members of the adventuring Party were struck unfavourably by how closely Ewen resembled the seigneur of Paris' Justice test, but the observant ones were more unsettled by how this did not seem to phase Paris. Rhori, however was not so observant and glowered as Paris began the introductions: "Lady Cordelia, Lady Lorraine, Lord Ewen, these are my comrades from Jouet. My brother Calais." Ewen shook his hand warmly. "Anton, Claire, Brillig, and Rhori." Ewen looked at the latter and said in a friendly tone, "Baron Ruby's man." Rhori grated out, "You look like the rapist man!" Ewen turned icy. "I beg your pardon." Paris reached towards Rhori, speaking soothingly. "Rhori, this is not that man. This is a very good friend of mine. He has nothing to do with that man. He is a good man, Rhori." The slow giant persisted and it looked seriously as though the lord was going to have to deal with the peasant, when Lady Alexis swept in to start the distraction. Lorraine took Rhori's arm and made him escort her into church. Paris looked appealingly at Ewen who presented his arm. Anton was left to escort Cordelia, who seemed very pleased with the 'lord troubadour'. Alexis took Calais (who was glowering at his sister, most unhappy with her by-now-habitual reticence that had nearly gotten Rhori killed).
Ewen was attentive to the service. Paris was attentive to her prayers.
After church Rhori departed immediately. Ewen explained that he'd come with Cordelia and Lorraine on purpose to go to church with Paris and to meet her brother. [Obviously the senior male relative in Paris' family. Just a coincidence.] The group managed pleasant small talk while Lady Alexis informed Paris that this was "not the place". So, with reluctance on both sides, Paris saw her friends to their carriage and promised Ewen, "We-we'll talk." She couldn't quite read the expression he gave her.
Lady Alexis, escorted by her brother, returned with the Party to Jouet Square. Amongst lots of other discussion [hopefully chronicled by Don], Alexis told Paris that she (Paris) should not be the one to tell Ewen of his great grandfather's peccadilloes. Paris couldn't think of anyone else who could explain adequately Rhori's behaviour -- and they ended at an intelligent and not unfriendly impasse on the subject.
Lady Alexis and Paris, under Rhori's watchful eye, then left to visit the graveyard where those of Westmore who fell in The Battle were buried. Alexis placed flowers on the grave of Reynald Tanner and, at Paris' gentle questioning, admitted that "if he had lived to be knighted, we would have been married. He was one of the horse-troops." Paris was silent. This name was not from her knight-candidate class. Lady Alexis had planned to marry below her station, to all appearances.
GM: To be a Knight, you have to be a noble mounted warrior. People can be nobles without being Knights, although it is rare in this culture for that to be true of many men. There are also some horse warriors who are not nobles and not Knights. This started from caravan guards, and the Duke found it useful to have light cavalry in his force mix, with the soldiers supplied by the merchant class. In order to entice people into this, once in a while one of these soldiers is knighted for particular bravery; the officers of these light cavalry troops are all such knights. The titles are usually not hereditary, unless the person can then marry up a half step to someone landed or get some piece of land deeded to them. Wealthy burghers are always trying to find a way into the elite, this is just another one of them. You would have to guess that the Tanners must have been well off.
Alexis accompanied Paris to Simon's grave where the lady informed Paris that there were a great many who want to see Paris fail to become a lady-knight, and others -- like herself -- who want Paris to succeed, as that is the only open door to other women taking up the role of swordswoman and knight. Paris pointed out that she hadn't yet succeeded and that she had no status with which to raise herself in the eyes of those who spoke against her. Alexis brushed that off with the assurance that it was against those that Paris had already proven her nobility. Then Alexis started to plan ways to elevate Paris in the eyes of the court in general, starting with dining with her parents (Baron & Lady de la Ponte) next Sevenday.
Firstday.
Martial practice.
Lady duGryphon.
Paris asked the Lady for a little more of her time in private as she has yet another problem on which to ask her advice. [Paris wants to tell Ewen about the vision/test. Has no intention of telling him that Alexis has informed her that the man in the vision was actually real. Needs advice on when and where such a discussion could happen, given that Ewen is likely to feel affronted even with as much as Paris will say.]
Lady duGryphon, finished with inspecting Paris' outfit, nodded. "Yes, Paris. What is it?"
"I -- have another -- awkward -- conversation -- that I think must be tended to, my lady." Paris started hesitantly. "I -- do not know if you know of the Tests of Justice I -- played out -- on my return to this palace. But my comrades and much of the court saw them. There was one -- that one of my comrades misinterpreted. And because I had not realized a -- mistake -- could be made -- and," her voice was hoarse, her face showed embarrassment, "because I was ashamed, thinking the test had been built out of an injustice I once created in my mind, my comrade insulted Lord Ewen. It was only through the great presence of mind of Lady Alexis and Lady Lorraine that -- something -- highly regrettable did not happen as a result. Lady Alexis has said that it is not my place to tell Lord Ewen -- at least part of this story. But I truly feel that it is my responsibility to explain to him why my friend said what he did, omitting as best I can, the information Lady Alexis feels inappropriate."
Paris hung her head. "It is a conversation that will cause me -- deserved shame, and will, likely, cause Lord Ewen to be angry with me. But the blame should rest fully on me and not on my mistaken comrade. So.. my question to you is: when and where is the proper place to hold such a conversation. Class is impossible and I would not risk a scene disrupting either dinner or the dance. How then, if you please, do I accomplish what must be done? What is proper?"
The Lady watched her, pursing her lips. "I have been told of the Tests, though I didn't see them. I presume from your mention of Lord Ewen that you are referring to the trial of Sir Rathburn? But you will have to be more explicit, girl. What was the mistake? What did your comrade do, or almost do, that my daughter and Lady Alexis prevented? And what is it that you think will cause Lord Ewen to be mad at you?"
"My apologies, my lady," Paris flushed. "As you have told me, it is hard to reveal flaws close to oneself." She did not flinch, however, from looking into the lady's face as she confessed. "The Sir Rathburn in the vision looked startlingly like Ewen. I - I did not know he had been a real person. I - I thought the test-vision had created his image out of some ungracious, unprovoked thoughts I had had -- about Lord Ewen. Shortly after I came here, when I did not know the customs. I - I could not understand why a -- lord -- might admire me, a peasant, and -- and I created a bogeyman from old tales I had heard about the rights a lord can take with a peasant. I did not know then what lordship really meant; the weight and responsibility that cannot be ignored without risk and which makes things like droit de seigneur more myth than reality. This was my fault and I was ashamed that the vision had chosen to punish me for it by using the face of a dear friend."
Paris took a deep breath. "But what happened after that drove most of the consideration of the lesser tests from my mind. And as my comrades did not ask why I had seemed to recognize Sir Rathburn, or about any of the trials, it did not occur to me to mention that the vision had used Ewen's face. Perhaps I was too ashamed of my earlier thoughts to want it to occur to me. That also would be my fault." Paris swallowed.
"I did not expect -- that is, this Sevenday past, Lord Ewen came to church with Lady Lorraine and Lady Cordelia, doing me the honour of wanting to meet my brother. The others noticed Lord Ewen's resemblance to the vision, they said later. But Rhori has the honest and simple mind of a child and spoke what he saw. He told Lord Ewen that he looked 'like the rapist man.' There's been little opportunity to explain Rhori to any of my classmates, and Ewen, like the nobleman he is, naturally took offense. It was difficult to make Rhori understand the mistake before he compounded it more. Ewen could have justifiably killed Rhori -- or Rhori could have hurt Ewen and had to suffer the consequences. And it was all my fault for not realizing -- for keeping my thoughts and fears so much to myself."
"Lady Alexis says that it is not my place to identify Sir Rathburn to Lord Ewen. I have no intention of doing so. My mistake occurred long before I even knew that Sir Rathburn was something more than a conjuration of my own misjudgment. But it was my fault that Rhori insulted Lord Ewen and I would rather Ewen knew where the blame should lie, though he should hate me for seeming to continue to think him capable of such ungallant behaviour."
[Yes, Ewen forgave her the thought the first time around. But having it crop up again without cause and in such a serious way -- and having to assume that it was due to Paris not being able to shake her misjudgment rather than there being a shade of truth to the Trial -- is bound to upset him and make him feel that Paris just does not care for nor trust him.]
"I see." Lady duGryphon said nothing else for a while, and she stood there studying Paris. Finally, she moved. "Sit there," she gestured to a chair. "Paris, I know rather a lot about all of my charges. Let me explain clearly to you that young Lord Ewen knows already of his great-grandfather. As a young boy, he spent a lot of time with his grandfather, who undoubtedly told of his father. Sir Rathburn was awarded the deLacey lands for exceptional bravery on the field of battle. He squandered a lot of it afterwards, several parts in payment to hush up scandals such as the one you judged. His son, Lord Ewen's grandfather, built the deLacey estates up to their present, well, to the state they were before the Change. Lord Ewen's father Sir Justin has been an adequate steward, until the Change, but not much more. From those I have talked with, there is more of Ewen's grandfather in him than his father or great-grandfather."
"You have said that because you did not give all the facts to your friends, that Rhori could have come to blows with Lord Ewen. You undoubtedly suspect his lion would have attacked as well, and we would be facing the loss of a young lord and the hanging of Miller." She sighed. "Paris, is it necessary to punish yourself for things that don't happen as well as things that do? And, if you are of a mind to be punished, why punish Lord Ewen?" She shook her head. "Paris, I have not had a student come through here yet and do everything perfectly the first time. We just insist that our students learn, eventually, from their mistakes. Even if we have to point them out time and time again. So, if you kept information that endangered your friends, then learn to tell them what you know. If you thought Ewen was a rapist, and you were wrong, then don't treat him like one. Judge yourself by your actions, not by your thoughts. The justice you rendered in the case of Sir Rathburn was correct, and free of personal bias. Your thoughts are your thoughts, it does you credit that you did not act improperly on them, or confront Ewen on some responsibility of his for your thoughts."
The older woman began pacing the room. "Did Lord Ewen act improperly to you?" She pointed an accusing finger at Paris before she could answer. "Did you act improperly towards him? No," she said in unison with Paris. "No, of course not. So, if you thought Lord Ewen was capable of impropriety, you were wrong." She resumed pacing, the words coming out with fire behind them. "Yes, he is capable physically, but you were wrong because even if he had those thoughts he did not act on them. It is hard enough to judge people on their actions. Do not also judge them on their thoughts, or what you thought he might have done. Do not judge yourself on your thoughts, because they may come unbidden. I, and everyone else, will judge you on your actions, your deeds, not on your thoughts. Don't you judge yourself that way either. I assure you, there have been many times I have thought about taking a sword to some idiot here at court, or thought about trying to slap some sense into one of my charges. But I have never acted on such thoughts."
She stopped her pacing and turned to Paris. "So, what to do. If you still wish to talk with him, then at the end of the dance tonight I will call both of you aside into a side room. You will have as much time as if you had stepped out for a breath of fresh air. Start by telling him of the test you saw, and see what he says. And, if you must, tell him of your incorrect deduction." She gestured to a bowl of water in the corner. "Until then, we will continue with lessons. I will be back in five minutes after you have cleaned up."
Paris sat there dazed for a minute after the Lady had gone. Then she got up and washed quickly. She made her curtsy as Lady du Gryphon re-entered. "Thank you for your advice, my lady. I will try to be aware that I am capable of punishing others for my undisciplined thoughts. I -- have lived so long within my own thoughts -- that -- this may be -- one of my most -- difficult -- lessons to learn. I will try." Paris took a breath. "If you please, I do want to use your side room to tell Lord Ewen of the Test. It would be fair to Rhori. Lord Ewen is a generous and fair-minded person. And," she looked at the Lady, feeling both apology and great affection, "I apologize for making you have to 'slap some sense into' me. I -- do appreciate it."
One eyebrow moved ever so slightly on the older woman's face, but the voice was matter of fact. "Today's lesson is the proper way to greet a foreign potentate..."
The musicians had packed up their instruments and left. Paris was waiting in a side room, next to the dance hall, when Lady duGryphon returned with Ewen. There was a look of concern on his face as the older woman escorted him in. She looked at the two of them, and then with a curt "I'll be back shortly," she left. Paris remembered to curtsy and Ewen bowed to her as she left, and then Ewen turned to Paris, a concerned frown on his face. "You wanted to talk, she said?"
"I'm sorry, Ewen, I didn't mean to worry you," Paris suddenly realized that Ewen hadn't any idea what to expect, "but Lady duGryphon said that this was a proper place to talk. I want to explain why Rhori said what he did Sevenday."
His forehead furrowed and a storm cloud gathered in his eyes, but Ewen refrained from interrupting.
She hastened on so that the memory of that would not distract him long. "The last part of my Quest for Justice was a long series of tests where I had to give judgments. They were magical tests, with very realistic illusions of the people concerned. And my adventuring comrades were allowed to accompany me on the tests, to give help if I needed it. So they saw all the visions that I did. It seemed very real. My shield was broken by one of the tests."
Paris looked into Ewen's face while she described the particular test that would concern him. She spoke steadily. "One of the tests was of a lord accused of 'taking droit de seigneur early'. He admitted it and so I passed judgment. He wore the deLacey device and introduced himself as Sir Rathburn -- and he looked very much like you. Older but just as good looking, just as charming when he wanted to be. But not you." Paris felt a surge of warmth; Ewen seemed to her the sort of man Sir Rathburn could have been -- and it seemed a shame that he had not been. "So -- Rhori was simply describing what he had seen. He has a very simple mind."
His face paled. "Paris, I'm not like that. I'm sorry you had to see that. Him. Not all of my family line have been... Well, as valiant off the field as on it. Ga, sorry, my Grandfather, made sure we knew of our half cousins. And made sure we knew the right way to treat people. Paris," he reached out to take her hands, and she noticed that his were cold, "you have to believe I'm not like that."
Paris clasped his hands in hers, stepping a little closer, trying to warm them, speaking earnestly the while. "Ewen, I know you are not like that. You couldn't be. You are everything Sir Rathburn should have been. And valiant and skilled as well; his good qualities. Don't ever, ever believe that I think -- that I -- that," She searched his face for signs that she had reassured him and fumbled over her words, "Ewen, I - I think you are the finest man in our class."
He was standing way too close, eyes only slightly above hers. "And you are the finest woman in," and his mouth tried to twitch into his half smile but failed. "You are the finest woman I've ever met."
Part of Paris felt thrilled, hot and cold -- but this was not why she had asked for the interview. She pressed his hands again saying quietly, "Thank you for understanding," and then she released him, moving a little away. "I did not want you to have to be angry without understanding."
"But the simpleton," Ewen continued, "must learn not to make such accusations. He cannot say such things."
Paris agreed, with a note of apology in her voice. "I know. I must pay more attention -- take more time -- to explain things to him -- before he gets into trouble. He trusts me and -- and cares for me. Rhori doesn't always understand the ways of the world and -- sometimes it seems that there is no one but me willing to teach him. I do apologize for him, Ewen. He is only thirteen, but he has a good heart."
Ewen looked like he was trying to lighten the situation. "He's awfully big for thirteen."
Paris smiled. "Sometimes I think that the energy that should have built his mind went to height and muscle instead. Not the best of exchanges, I think."
There was a loud sound outside the door, and it opened to reveal the formidable Lady duGryphon. "The evening is at an end, Lord Ewen, Miss Paris." The two made their appropriate gestures and went their separate ways.
[GM: Had Paris decided to kiss Ewen, as might have been a possibility, Lady G was going to do her return earlier in the thread and prevent it. :) I am, sometimes, a rotten person. :) ]
[S: It was a distinct possibility, given that they had gotten into closer proximity than I had anticipated -- and that emotions were running high. I actually wrote it several times in my mind as I sat here looking at my morning's mail. But what would the kiss have accomplished?
It might seem a ploy for one-upmanship against Bietrix. Paris is greater than that. And Paris _still_ doesn't know her own feelings for Ewen well enough to deliberately lead him on. She was tempted to hug him or kiss his cheek as she would Calais -- except she doesn't think of him as a brother and so that wouldn't have been appropriate. Real Girl wanted her to anyway -- knowing that once she breaks this reserve there will be no reason not to sample "fresh air"... and even "try out" other boys (although if Paris rejects the finest, how can she really consider the lesser?) But Paris knows that that would have been abusing the reason she wanted to use this room -- and abusing Lady duGryphon's trust.]
[GM: The moving apart makes it clear enough that she is conflicted, still holding herself back. I'm sure she isn't sure why :). But, if she hadn't been attracted to him, there was no reason to increase the distance.]
[S: At some point Paris must resolve the conflict. If she wants a sense of 'normalcy' in her life, she should take Ewen. If she's willing to spend her life looking into the unknown, then she shouldn't. The one solution suits Real Girl, the other, Serious; neither is completely Paris.
Yes, I can resolve it. But I don't want to until it feels like the 'right' solution. That's why -- when the question "what will a kiss here accomplish?" occurred to me -- I knew that it was not the time. ]
[GM: I figured the kiss might occur in part as a forgiveness for Ewen, let him know she didn't think he was like that. But I agree with you that it doesn't belong at this point in the story, which is why Lady G would have interrupted (no plan of hers, though).]
[S: Yes, that was exactly why she would have kissed him. Those words occurred to me. If she ever gets around to analyzing why she did not kiss him, she will -- at last -- realize that kisses can have lots of meanings, not only the unequivocal commitment that she associates with them. But there are few kisses that say 'you should not expect any more' -- and she still thinks that she needs that much space. And .. well, it wasn't Ewen who needed forgiveness. Ewen has done absolutely nothing wrong the entire time she's known him, whereas she's made several mistakes (not counting what she lets her thoughts do to her.)]
Kings and Queens
Paris once again took off her gown and redressed, happy with relief (and, perhaps, other emotions best left unexamined) after the interview with Ewen. Lady duGryphon might not have thought it necessary but Paris had not wanted to see that dark cloud form in Ewen's eyes every time someone mentioned the miller's son. That, she thought, was now taken care of.
As her mind drifted, draggles and tags of the other problems facing her began to resurface. Suddenly she stood straight, amazement on her face. Hurriedly she scrabbled in her pack for the packet of writing paper she'd kept from her travels. She carefully tore out a sheet and penned:
'Unto her Royal Highness, Princess Carline, greetings from Paris of Jouet.
Might I ask that you please inquire of the Duke and Prince William if they have identified any of the queens and kings of the Minor Arcana? Thank you.
Your obedient, Paris.'
Carefully she folded the note and wrote 'To Her Highness, Princess Carline' on the outside. She finished packing her gear and then left the bathroom to find an appropriate servant, page, or herald with whom to leave the note with instructions to deliver it to her Highness the following morning.
A reply was delivered to Paris later. It was couched in masked terms, apparently in case it went astray.
"Dear Miss Paris:
To answer your question, none are known for sure. However, the two with gold cards are thought to be, and that thought does not give me any comfort.
Keep yourself well.
C."
"Kings & Queens" copyright 1999 P.Shea & S.Knowles. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.