Chapter 7 - Noblesse Oblige
The rays of the morning sun gleamed undimmed through the gnome-wrought masterwork crystal windows and refracted on the elven gossamer curtains.
Thus transformed from piercing glare to pleasant illumination, it fell upon a sumptuous four poster bed, whose elegant columns, adorned with scenes of leaping unicorns and reclining nymphs, stretched to the intricately painted and baroquely plastered ceilings, and were festooned with diaphanous silks ferried from across the Sea of Tears.
Lying recumbent on a goose-down mattress four sizes too large was a gently dreaming female form, draped in a flowing Griffon feather coverlet. As the sunlight, now made gentle, hit her flawless alabaster skin and flowing midnight locks, she stirred.
"A most felicitous morning, Young Miss." said the well groomed dwarf majordomo waiting by the hardwood door. "Will my Mistress be breaking her fast with Lord Rafael?"
Yawning demurely, the young heiress stretched her perfectly proportioned arms before replying, "Yes Jorgrun, please inform father and mother that I will be with them shortly."
"Very good, my Mistress." Then clapping his hands with the retort of a smith's hammer striking an anvil, he summoned a coterie of maids to attend to the toilette and attiring of the young lady.
Later at a table spread with enough jam and delicate morning confections for a regimental tea party, Jorgrun decorously poured a cup of perfectly steaming flower infused tea for the young lady of the house. At the other end of the table, a middle aged couple of distinguished bearing engaged in spirited discussion.
"But husband dearest, Lettie worked so hard for this, the least you could do is attend the
viva voce!"
"Would that I could, my heart, but the delegation from the Under-council…"
"…
can wait! This is our
only daughter that we're talking about here! Its-"
The sound of scuffing old growth hardwood chair legs on wave-coral flooring was just loud enough to indicate that the young lady in question had stood up, and there was a flurry of activity at her end of the table as maids and manservants bustled to tidy up.
"Mother, the Under-council delegation is of
vital import for the city. Their supplies are the lifeblood of our nation's preparation for the next conflict, and to neglect them is
unthinkable."
"B… but, it's your Guild cross-examination, Lettie!" said the noblewoman, tearing up and looking like a fainting spell was about to overcome her. "The Alchemic Society of the Guild of Knowledge, it's such an honour to be considered for Journeyman so young…"
"And I am cognizant that the good name of our family rests on my shoulders. Rest assured that I will make it obvious to all why House Rafael are the divinely appointed overseers of this land."
She turned and gave the middle aged nobleman, still muscular from duties on the frontier, grey hair lending him an air of experience, a reassuring smile. "Father, worry not while you attend to your duties, I, Lethalas Imperia Rafael, will not fail you!"
Awaiting her departure in front of the main foyer entrance was a gold and silver gilded carriage leashed to four black coursers. As her proudly beaming father and barely-holding-it-together mother bid their fond farewells to their precocious daughter, a footman liveried in House Rafael heraldry helped her into the lushly cushioned interior.
Lethalas Imperia Rafael reflected upon the burdens of her station as her conveyance started its progress across well paved carriageways and avenues.
The Reader's Council will have much to prepare for the incoming apprentices. What guidance I can provide as the First among Equals will obviously be essential. Even with Father's absence, Guild Factor Kentos and Enlightened Mentor Narsi will be at the viva voce, so anything less than an unparalleled performance will be absolutely unacceptable! And then there is the valedictory speech that I'll have to give…!
The carriage screeched to a halt, breaking her train of thought, and moments later the imprecatory shouts of the coachmen broke through the morning silence. Wanting to take charge of the situation, Lethalas knocked twice on the glass windows, which the footmen dutifully opened, and popped her head out the side of the vehicle.
A shocking stench assaulted her delicate sensibilities and she almost regretted having the strong sense of responsibility and moral core of nobility. She held a scented silk handkerchief to her mouth and examined the scene in front of her.
The carriage, pulled by horses taller than most men, had overturned a Nightsoilman's cart, strewing the refuse and waste across the street. The carriage driver was currently in the process of damning the elderly human's eyes, while the Nightsoilman was doing his level best to scrape and apologize while gathering up his rotting cargo with his bare hands.
Shocking, are the peasants not even motivated enough to provide themselves with proper tools? Well, as Father always said, to capture the heart of the citizenry, when in doubt, err on the side of mercy.
"You there! Peasant! What is your name?"
Tugging at his gray forelock, the old man looked to be trapped between fear and awe, he answered uncertainly, "Err… if…if'n it be pleasing your grace, I be Wern… Wern Widebrow."
"Well, Wern, today finds you fortunate to have met me." She said, smiling with the best benevolent compassion she could muster. "I will speak to my father, Lord Rafael, to have your shift annulled. Enjoy your well deserved rest."
The old man was speechless, his mouth flapped open and shut in shock, before he lost strength in his legs and sank to his knees, and held his face in his hands, sobbing.
Truly, his gratitude is my truest reward.
"Drive on, Coachman!" She ordered, and didn't look back at the human wreckage now bawling in the streets.
The Guild of Knowledge's Alchemic Society lecture hall was a flurry of activity that immediately trailed off into awed silence when Lethalas made her entrance. A small clique made up of the scions of Port Prosperity's lesser nobility quickly formed around her and vied for her attention with the latest salacious gossip and cutting put-downs.
"And can you believe what the pretentious harpy was wearing? The woodlander
chique look is so last…"
"It was just me and the lads against those killers-for-hire down at the Blade and the Rose, but I gave them a steely stare and declared…"
"And then I said, innkeep, money's no object, I must have those rooms! Toss the
hoi-polloi out! Finally the blasted peasant…"
Noticing the Alchemic Meister's fifth increasingly desperate attempt to start the lesson over their not-so-muted conversation, Lethalas waved her hand nonchalantly and the conversation around her ceased. Her hangers-on and toadys found their way, not in any hurry of course, for that would be beneath their noble dignity, back to their benches.
Just as Meister Haverard Waeloon… she struggled to recall the rest of his name… was about to start the lecture, there was a loud slam at the rear of the lecture hall…
These blasted gnomes and their labyrinthine names, there should be a law against them! … Hmmm…
… as the double blast-proof doors were flung open, and there stood, in all his idiotic, grinning brazenness, that great thorn in her side, Dirk Gravesend!
A peasant who did not defer to his betters, a dilettante who besmirched the noble art of the Alchemic studies with his "experimentation" and "testing", a mere tradesman's son, yet he got chosen for the viva voce! Where is the justice in the world? And just look at him, has he no shame? Walking in here , covered in… that!
"Dirk Gravesend! What is the meaning of this! Why are your clothes covered in that… refuse?!"
"Ah… Meister Harverard Waelyn Smokshok "Tastes like burning" Syn-"
He looked sheepish, but unashamed, the gall!
"- y'see I "got involved" in a bit of a tumble on the way to your lesson today, but I really,
really wanted to hear you expound on extraplanar ingredients, so I couldn't rush home and get a change. I am truly sorry, Ser." He bowed his head contritely.
"Hmph. Well, at least you have the proper respect for the
Principe Miscero. Attend to your cleanliness, then take your seat. You will have to be more conscientious than that if you want to impress the Factor, young Gravesend."
"Aye, Ser!"
Lethalas gritted her teeth in consternation.
That simpering fool's tardiness has already caused our progress immeasurable harm! He will pull the standard of the rest of us down with him with his indolence! Coddling him will do us no favours Meister Harvard!
Lessons proceeded smoothly after that and soon most everyone's mind started turning to their mid-day repast. About half an hour after the eleventh bell, Dirk put up his hand to get the attention of the Meister.
"*sigh* Family business again, Dirk?" Meister Harverard shook his head in mock disappointment.
"Sorry, Ser. I'll be right back after the service! Promise!" Dirk started stuffing his texts into his satchel.
"You can make it up to me by applying yourself to the practical sessions this afternoon, and, oh, the usual order of course."
"Aye, verily, Ser." said Dirk with a solemn wink.
Lethalas could only roll her eyes in despair.
Later, while waiting in the Reader's Council's private dining chambers for lunch service, Lethalas gave her unbiased and even-handed assessment of the situation. "I am of the opinion that Dirk "Dungsweeper" should confine himself to the musty basement of a shop house if he cannot show the proper dedication to the Alchemic studies."
"Hear, hear!" Shouted Gustard Fromboise (a scion of renowned trading low-nobility)
"At least he isn't going to be any competition for you, m'lady." gushed Comfrey Villar (only heir of a cadet branch of her own House Rafael founded by the bastard son of her great-great-great grandfather). "You are a shoo in for Journeyman status! And next year, your studies in the Acadamia Arcanoi will commence. You are sure to rise high in the Guild!"
"Tosh and nonsense, Lethalas has got what it takes to go straight to Meister, doesn't she?" Quinene Hauser (Sister to Nictos Hauser, Guild Factor of the Capital) lied, knowing full well that there hadn't been a promotion like that for a hundred years, not since the re-discovery of Antitoxin
1 by the prodigy Miklos the Sage.
At this point, servants arrived bearing the latest cuisine revolution from the city, hurried from a local eatery enjoying an unprecedented level of recent lunchtime custom. The
Catch of the Day a la Ecosse was a fillet of de-spined Verdantfish dipped in a delightfully light batter (that many establishments had tried without success to copy) and deep fried to crispy perfection with a side of sweet mashed garden peas and lightly fried potatoes wedges.
"Whoever came up with this must have been truly inspired!" breathed Lethalas between delicate mouthfuls, and for once her companions could agree with her without pretention.
The Afternoon Practical sessions, when they came, were of paramount importance to every Reader attempting the
viva voce. They were the only supervised time that was allotted to the applicants to complete their three submissions for judging, the only opportunity to create something that might allow them to freely apprentice themselves to a Meister or claim the coveted Journeyman title proclaiming the quality of their creations.
Lethalas was determined see her Alchemic creations recognized as the most worthy, and thus it was that the rest of the Reader's Council helped her to gain as much of Meister Harverard's aid as possible.
When other Readers attempted to cut into her time with Meister Harverard, they would find their way blocked by beefy and intimidating scions of the city's nobility or threatened by the potential of ruinous gossip by a forked tongue debutante.
None of the others have what it takes to create a work worthy of a Journeyman anyway, so obviously the time should be given to the most deserving. It's only logic.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dirk give her and her party a dark look before turning to aid Readers who were struggling with their projects.
Like this he will have no chance at all to complete his three submissions. Truly, a fool is one who has no sense of priorities…
Later that night, laying on her feather-soft bed under her warm-in-winter, cool-in-summer coverlet, she thought of how different Dirk was from her, and how she might never have the opportunity to spend time with him again after he failed the
viva voce and she was promoted to Journeyman.
Then she smiled, and slept the sleep of the Just.
