Noble Beginnings (8 page)

CHAPTER VIII

Whereas before, Dorran had wondered whether
he would ever get to see any discussions of Farlan's preparations
for war. Now nearly all of his mother's councils to which he was
invited focused on this one subject. He watched ladies and a very
few lords discuss economic contributions, create plans to outfit
soldiers with weapons, foodstuffs, and other basic necessities, and
bemoan the dubious possibility of completing these tasks with the
resources they had available. So many were these meetings Dorran
hardly had time to squeeze in practice at the barracks into his
schedule, most of the time he had to work just to find time to
sleep.

His most important task as of late had been
the fact that his mother had put him in charge over the individuals
who were scattered around the duchy in charge of their own muster
groups. It was a thankless task and one that required a lot of
travel and even more letters delivered by dedicated riders. Every
day the stress mounted and the chance of a peaceful rest
declined.

However he was finally afforded a small
break, everything was put on hold including the meeting and
paperwork for part of a day to welcome Lady Beatrice Alven and her
daughter, Lyrre, to the castle. At first he had cared little for
the news of their arrival but now he could have kissed them for
their decision to come stay at the palace.

Dorran stood beside his mother and watched as
Myriel and Vernis pulled the doors to Thea's largest council
chamber open. The two women entered wearing their finest gowns
followed by a small, demure line of servants, sweeping inside in
grand style.

The first was tall, with blonde hair run
through with gray that fell in ringlets down her back. The girl
behind her, Lyrre, was similarly radiant, every feature from her
height to the narrow shape of her face was almost a mirror
reflection of her mother. She was also one of the most beautiful
women Dorran had ever seen. Almond-shaped dark eyes peered out from
behind a small curtain of strawberry-blonde hair, and a full, red
mouth pouted just above her pointed chin. She kept her head
demurely downcast as she followed her mother into the room, but
Dorran saw her eyes flicker upwards every few seconds to take in
the faces scattered throughout the room.

"Lady Alven," Thea intoned, standing and
holding out her hands in a gesture of welcome. "And Lady Lyrre. It
is a pleasure to see you again after so many years."

The two of them knelt. "The pleasure is ours,
your highness," said Alven demurely, head bowed. "We must thank you
for your hospitality in inviting us to stay within your walls."

"Not at all. To have family close by is a
comfort especially in such dark times as these," Thea said warmly,
walking to the kneeling pair and raising them to their feet with
her hand. "I hope you feel at home here. Your chambers have been
prepared, and you're to ask if you want for anything. Please, go
and rest; I'm sure you're tired from your extended journey."

Alven and Lyrre both curtsied and then walked
back out of the room in as grand a fashion as they had entered.
Dorran thought he saw Lyrre take a glance at him out of the corner
of her eye, but he couldn't be certain.

His attention was too quickly diverted for
him to have much time to think about it, though; now that the
business of welcoming the castle's new guests was finished, the
council returned to the ever-present affairs of the muster, which
seemed all the more pressing after the day's short diversion. There
were hordes of claimants, petitions, and representatives of various
areas respectfully noting the difficulties the muster had raised.
The short reprieve he had received was over and the many issues
started to close in around him again.

None of these, to Dorran's surprise, were
overly vehement or anywhere close to angry. He couldn't even detect
the restrained civility of the very tense. Instead, they seemed
worried that they were simply unable to perform the tasks that the
Duchess and through her, the King had requested of them. Thea
always reassured them as best she could and asked them to continue
to fulfill her requests to whatever extent they believed was
possible. Dorran marveled at the feeling that seemed to echo around
the room, unspoken, that the muster was some sort of imaginary
event that they made the motions of preparing for, but that none of
them truly believed would actually come to pass. It was almost
enough to make him start disbelieving in it himself, but his mother
had taught him that lying to yourself was never beneficial.

Then, near the end of the meeting, came a
petition that Dorran hadn't been expecting.

Edith stepped from the line outside the door
and came to kneel before the queen, stiff and expressionless.
Instead of any sort of gown or dress, she had on formal soldier's
attire, borrowed, Dorran guessed, either from her late brother or
from an uncle. "Your Majesty, I would like to petition that you
allow a selection of women trained in combat admission into the
King's latest muster," she said with a straight face and calm voice
but Dorran could see the pleading look in her wavering eyes.

Thea's face was blank, giving no clue as to
what her thoughts were on the request. Dorran could tell it
unnerved Edith slightly but if he was being honest he was just as
worried about the answer to the question himself. "Go on."

Dorran recognized this reaction as a signal
of Thea's disapproval, but still she listened, fascinated, as Edith
continued. "Farlan is poor in men already, my lady," she said
resolutely. "The women I have in mind have already mastered the
basics of combat, and show a strong dedication to completing their
training. I am confident that women in their prime could prove more
valuable to the king than male fighters that are too young or too
old, that we must add just to meet the numbers he had
requested."

"What of tradition?" Thea asked smoothly.
"How do you think a band of women would fare in a largely male
army?"

"With respect, my lady, I have heard reports
of several other duchies resorting to sending women soldiers in the
past few years. Moreover, I am confident that the women of Farlan
could look after themselves. We are more than capable in a larger
army, especially with a suitable female leader heading the
force."

"And do you have any particular woman in mind
to head this proposed force?" Thea asked.

"I know several female fighters who I believe
would be well-suited to the task," Edith answered. "However, many
of these are less experienced or less familiar with the ways of
armies and command than I, so I would list myself among possible
candidates for my lady's consideration. Needless to say, we would
all be more than happy to follow any leader that you saw fit to
appoint."

"I see." Thea sat back in her chair, eyes
hard. "Hear me well, Edith, while I understand times are changing I
will not have the daughters of Farlan added to the growing list of
the dead. I am denying this petition. Moreover, if I find any
movement to smuggle women into the muster, I will take full
disciplinary measures. Am I understood?"

Edith's composure broke for one second. "My
lady…."

Thea cut her off, her voice as sharp as a
bared blade. "Farlan has already lost too many good men to the war;
I will not allow her to lose her best and brightest women as well.
I have made my decision, you are dismissed."

Edith swallowed hard, bowed, and departed.
Dorran could see the tears beginning to crawl from the corner of
Edith’s eyes. He wanted to chase after her but he knew he was the
last person she would want to talk to at the moment. As she left
the audience chamber she left behind a highly strung silence in her
wake.

Dorran was perplexed. He thought that the
idea of sending female soldiers was actually an excellent one
especially considering the fact that they were lacking the number
of male soldiers the king was requesting by a large number. Why had
she dismissed it out of hand? Looking around the table, he could
see he was not alone in his confusion; several of the other nobles
looked as though they wanted to talk amongst themselves, though the
stillness of the room forbade it.

After a long moment, Thea continued her voice
still carrying the sharpness she had used against Edith causing
many people in the room to jump. "Next petitioner, step
forward."

The rest of the day’s petitioners seemed to
float by none of them catching his attention. His mind was fully
fixed on thoughts of Edith. When the last person left the hall
Dorran shuffled out of the hall wishing he had the leisure to go
look for his friend but with the new guests staying at the castle
he knew that he wouldn’t be afforded any free time for quite a
while.

As Thea had promised, the dinner that evening
was more of a feast. All of Thea's family was there, of course, as
was most of the council and a handful of servants; put together,
nearly two dozen people sat together at table, with Thea at the
head and Alven and Lyrre occupying seats of honor. Dorran and his
sisters sat across the table from their guests. Dorran, unused to
formal state meals felt slightly nervous but nevertheless he found
himself interested in his aunt and cousin.

Lady Beatrice Alven was several years older
than Thea. She had had five sons in her first marriage, which had
been organized by her family; of these sons, three had long died in
the war, one was missing, and the other, her second youngest, had
been on the front for three years. She mentioned his achievements
and the ranks he had gained with glowing pride, but Dorran found
himself wondering between her effusions whether she thought she
would ever see her son again, after losing four already.

When her husband had died, also in the war,
she had remarried. Lyrre was the only child she had of her second
husband before he, too, had been lost to the war. Dorran felt bad
at first, hearing her say it; here was another person for whom the
King's ongoing struggle had cost dear ones. He found himself
feeling rather morbidly glad that Thea at least had two daughters,
and that they were both talented in politics and perfectly capable
of looking after themselves.

Then, it seemed, she had fallen upon hard
times. Despite the loss of so many family members, Alven claimed
that she had never lost faith in the King's war effort. Eventually,
her donations had accumulated to the point where her old estate
became difficult to maintain, at which point, she explained to
Dorran's sisters with a sheepish blush, Thea had been kind enough
as to offer to take her in.

Dorran was slightly suspicious of this story
as absolute truth, given the finery Alven and Lyrre were currently
garbed in, but still expressed his polite astonishment at her
generous spirit. Alven basked in the praise for a polite period of
time, then continued the discussion with the others. Dorran began
to notice that somehow, she seemed to enjoy trying to turn the
topic of conversation back to herself.

He found himself more interested in Lyrre,
though. It seemed as though she was an altogether different sort of
person than her mother. While she seemed to lend a sympathetic ear
to Alven, nodding and pouting at all the right moments, her eyes
rapidly scanned and re-scanned the room, wide with curiosity and
excitement. During a short break in one of Alven's monologues,
Dorran opened his mouth to ask her what she thought of the castle,
but Adhara jumped in before he could, asking her instead about her
gown.

Lyrre seemed delighted about the question,
and Dorran watched, bemused, as the two girls began talking in very
high-pitched, fast voices about dresses, fashion, decor, and the
castle, in that order. Lyrre was self-deprecating about her old
estate. "It was old and falling apart, and it was too grand for
just me and Mama" she also seemed overwhelmingly excited to be
living in the capital. She praised the elegance of the castle;
Adhara explained sheepishly that they, too, were suffering the
consequences of the war, and apologized for the meager fare, but
Lyrre shot her down, praising everything at the table. Then she
asked sympathetically about the war effort. When Adhara explained
the rationing across Farlan, including the castle, Lyrre praised
Thea in a hushed voice for her willingness to experience hardship
alongside her people instead of forcing more hardship on them in
order to keep up a lavish lifestyle.

It was undeniably pure politics, Dorran
thought as he watched them, but it was much faster paced and more
excited-sounding than what he usually saw at his mother's councils.
He admitted to himself that he found it altogether intimidating and
a bit on the amusing side.

Having just concluded this, he jumped and
started to sweat when Lyrre turned her eyes on him. "Lord Dorran,
it's a pleasure to meet you," she said happily. "I think we may
have met before, but I was too young to remember."

Thinking on it, Dorran concluded that he did
indeed dimly remember a red-headed girl at a midwinter's festival
they had spent with his father's family before his death. "I must
have been only four or five then." he said, frowning.

"That's right, you're only a year older than
I am," Lyrre said, beaming. "Are you preparing to take over from
your mother?"

"I..." The question took him aback, but he
knew how important it was to answer right away. "I am, as long as I
don't go off to war first," was the best answer he was able to
supply. He looked over at Adhara by reflex, and she gave him a
quick tilt of her head which he interpreted as either a shrug or a
nod of approval. He hoped that meant his answer had been
acceptable.

Lyrre's eyes sparkled. "You're a warrior,
then?"

"I certainly try," he said uncomfortably. He
suspected it wouldn't be very gentlemanly to start explaining
martial training to her, and was unsure how much he should tell her
about their latest difficulties in gathering soldiers. "What about
you? How do you do pass the time?"