Ooooh.
I think I get why Fizzbunches gave Adelyne the sneaky boon now.
She was nearly made into yet another handmaiden of the ShiningWyrm, and that would be a waste, given her heritage and connection to the streets.
Given time she might have spilled that golden shine even into the streets and made the alleyways a bit too straight for the Weird of Alleys.
But now she's a creature of the Streets, and she won't leave that behind so easily.
As for it being a GOOD idea…? Hrrrm.
I think it's an idea that will be rightfully shot down unless Adeline is particularly clever. Buuut…I have a suspicion that's not actually the point.
The point, is the roundabout explaination of how Guilds work and 'work' both on and off the books, so to speak.
So that Jewel doesn't just throw her weight around and force things into her shape, but can understand the spaces she's moving through and how that influences them…
But of course! Who could claim they have a well-governed land without their crime neatly organized and with a central authority to register complaints with if the quality of local work isn't up to standard? "That young man knocked me down in the street and stole my handbag. But he couldn't even take a moment to grab my jeweled necklace! Those are real sappires, you know. Over in the capitol they'd've had the shoes off my feet before I could blink!"
Autumn came and winter was imminent and at least for the rest of this year Jewel would not be going to Kaeketeh. Lord Kliatbatrn and the guilds could live up to their obligations to her and keep everything intact over one winter.
Jewel was going home to Rochford for the longest night.
As Gem she was spending as much time as she could stand and Smithson would allow away from the manor. Running with her friends and the rest of the village whenever the days were clear enough.
Swarmed with endless questions as she had been in the mid summer.
But instead of inquiries to what it was like in Kaeketeh it was questions about the Capital. About what the sky looked like under another vault.
When she spoke of the Capital, of its many overlapping rivers, the beasts of the menagerie, the food (and how awful and over spiced so much of it was), the Palace, the monsters and nobles she had met. Jewel was filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with her Wyrmflame.
They shared their own adventures, the riddles and jokes they had made in the two Valasect cants.
In the seasons since she had last signed with them the word for the two cants had changed again. Instead of Field and Forest cant it was now "Close" and "Far" cant. Jewel shared with them that the Footmen of the Manor and maybe also some people in Kaeketeh were going to learn the signs too.
Some of the children were frustrated, but the promise that their parents were unlikely to learn it unless they joined Jewel's guard and that few from Kaeketeh were likely to ever visit was enough to placate most.
"Was there really a blood eating walking corpse at the capital?"
Dorota signed swiftly and assuredly. Her brother Albert turning to watch her hands and Gem's as they 'spoke' between working with his carving knife at a block of wood.
The fire of their hearth made for poor light to do such fine work Jewel thought.
But it was better than the cold.
To help keep him included she and his sister made their initial gestures wide enough to draw attention before pulling into the closer Valasect Cant for precise finger gestures. Gem's mouth giving a wide smile and a heavy trilling laugh.
"There was! And a giant hairless cat bigger than even Celsus!"
Jewel was still learning the strange rules the children had made for 'shaping' out the sound of words (or more often names) that did not have an easy existing meaning in the cant. The rules were a bit arbitrary.
But just to be abundantly clear as she twisted and wiggled her digits into what she thought the siblings used to refer to the bull while she also tossed her head and a quick finger point to the wall that joined their house with the cowhold. She hoped it was clear.
Bethica and Celsus were weathering the snow together and had been pleased she was back.
The sight of Bethica so heavily gravid this morning left its own warm joy.
Hopefully the calf would not be born mute but they would not know until after the birth come spring.
Dorota's eyes widened and she flailed a bit wider, her gestures going out into a very clear Far Cant. Gesture clear enough to be spotted across the clearing of her family farm.
"Bigger than Celsus! That's impossible!"
Jewel snorted and shook her head.
"My mother is bigger than Celsus. You've seen her during our visits!"
There was simply no way in either Valasect Cant to even begin to explain Jewel's relationship with her younger self. Also Bethica had admonished her with an ear full (once for each head!) on not giving herself proper respect as both mother and child.
So she did not bring it up with her friends.
Besides, it was such a cozy time in the house!
Dorota's own mother hummed as she gently worked on what was probably going to be a new winter coat for Albert if Gem's eyes were getting the sizing right.
Wyrmspun wool of course, as most of their clothing was becoming.
Although many of the adults still had underclothes and many old garments of the more mundane weave and thread Jewel had made sure every family had at least a blanket and every adult woman a shawl of the fabric.
Her weaving work with the looms was still a bit rough, but it was barely even needed to have any woman in Valasect spin her own family's wool.
They all insisted on it of course and Jewel heartily agreed, but the work was much less rushed in Valasect than Jewel remembered it being in Rochford when she was younger. She'd been absent for most of the last two years but at least among the women of her demesne that had not made their acceptance of her any worse.
Jewel and Dorota both worked at their own spindles between their animated whirling gestures. Dorota under the occasional glance of her mother, and Jewel to try and hone the lessons of a decade's struggle and the growing assurance of her younger muscles.
She could feel the echo of the musical dance she did as a Wyrm. But it was so much fainter as her smaller self.
"Was it frightening to travel so far away?"
Jewel nodded to her friend. Face becoming solemn.
"If I'm with my mother it's not so bad, she makes me safe. But when I can't be with her I only have Smithson. And Smithson isn't a dragon."
Dorota giggled, but she didn't let it muss her gestures or harm the tempo of the spindle.
"But your Nurse-Knight is so big and strong! He's so tall and he has a sword! And a horse!"
The girl was not even ten and already far better at managing the spindle than Jewel's wyrm self had been until after the war.
Jewel's efforts to match her as Gem were despite all her practice lagging behind.
The way the wool passed her tiny fingers just didn't feel right.
Still the thought of Smithson and Ox Hoof and the absurdity of even comparing the so called 'Nurse Knight' to the martial prowess and assurance of her wyrm self?
It made it very hard to avoid breaking up the thickness of the thread on the spindle as the giggles shook her shoulders. She had to focus on evening it out and stop signing until the thread had regained its proper consistency.
Time that her friend Dorota was fine with giving.
In the lull Dorota and Albert's mother took up a spinning song. One of the old winter chants that Jewel did not know the word's meaning for.
It was a lot like the chant for the Longest Night. The words had the same kind of shape as them, but different specifics. And a softer, more round melody over all. Good pace for the drop of the spindle, the spinning twisting of the thread. The movement of wool slowly pinched as it passed through fingers.
Gem's hands, small and still somewhat clumsy they might be. But every woman and girl Jewel had seen working wool into thread had nearly the same hands as her spawn.
She should be able to do it far easier than her wyrm self.
Jewel added Gem's own voice to the song after it had made three rounds. Songs were much easier than normal speaking. You could hear the word coming, the melody even let you know the shape you needed your throat, tongue and lips to meet and when.
You didn't even need to know the meaning of the words!
Soon the whole household was singing with Gem, Albert's voice a good match for the two girls and woman. Not yet deepend by manhood.
The time Gem had with her friend passed that way.
Until finally Smithson had finished all the business he could afford to do as a delay and the sun was getting close to the peaks of the mountains to the west.
Jewel insisted with halting words that the family keep the wool she had spun.
"M-mothar ss-spin m-many. Y-y-you k-keep."
Dorota's mother sighed and nodded but even with her less acute ears she could hear a mutter from the woman behind the door how it wasn't right for a girl's family to not keep the thread spun before her first blood.
Jewel shuddered in the chill of the winter wind before running to Oxhoof so she could get up and out of the snow which easily went higher than her knees and was still coming down.
She missed the cold having no teeth for her.
Her Nurse Knight offered a hand to boost her up into the saddle and soon she was up and out of the potential soaking wet of the snow.
Gem huddled up above her Knight's shoulder on the horse. The lack of snow does not help with the winter wind. Smithson himself walked ahead, trudging the slowly frosting over mud of the path, the hackney mare familiar enough with the routine to follow along behind him without a lead or guidance from the diminutive rider.
"Did you have a good time with your friend today Gem?"
His back was turned, looking ahead, which meant that Jewel would have to put the words together and sound them out in the right order with her spawn's cramped, mostly human throat and face.
D'awww.
I imagine Both Jewel and Gem would be fine with a hug if offered.
As for the spinning of wool, well…Hrm.
I wonder how well Jewel could taken wool she spun and knit it into proper cloth?
…
I wonder what that Thieves guild Adeline proposed will take as a cover?
I say that because a number of thieves guilds I've seen in fiction take up an alternative name, and it being an unwritten understanding that they're the thieves, in truth.
Jewel was thankfully unsurprised to see her brother and the proud gryphon that Blizzardwrath had grown into.
Alexander's beard had filled out since last she saw it, as was his frame and build, he looked the very vision of a martial lord. Beside him Blizzardwrath was confident and regal as Zephyrvam. With only a hint of the thick plumage of its mother.
Her brother's bond was almost as tall as him at the shoulder. The feathers flutter over the muscular strength in each of the four talons in shoulders and hips.
But there was still a childish motion to the head, it regarded Jewel with a hint of wariness that settled as soon as Alexander had lunged at Jewel to embrace her around her throat. Squeezing with all the considerable strength he could muster.
He would not be strained by the pull of the Rochford family bow.
Jewel's flesh however even when she relaxed every scrap of flame from it barely depressed against that considerable squeeze.
"Sister! It's so good to see you!"
Jewel laughed deep in her chest, letting the sound shape and reshape up her throat. So her voice came out light, feminine, but with the timbres of a woman. Like Bethica's voice, a voice fit for a countess and a dragon.
"Brother! I thought you would have flown to Rochford! Why did you walk on Blizzardwrath like it was a horse?"
Alexander laughed and at a gesture his bond leaped to join them, nuzzling at his shoulder and neck then after a few furtive glances at its bond also nosing and picking at Jewel's scales with a tentative beak.
"Father recommended it and I have to agree!"
Jewel slowly offered strokes and scritches to the still smaller gryphon. Careful of the neck and ears just the way she was with Zephyrvam. The timidity soon melted into youthful enthusiasm and a delighted little cry as she reminded the still childish Gryphon that Jewel was family.
"The other riders might be able to burden their charges at this age and size. But Blizzardwrath needs more strength to carry my weight for more than a few hours. Perhaps next year."
She sighed heavily at that. Jewel had been looking forward to sharing a flight with her brother!
"However! That is precisely why we walked with only a few short bounds unmounted to keep Blizzardwrath from getting bored. I promised we would fly when I arrived, but he can't manage the weight of me for long so we walked."
Jewel sniffed at the Gryphon a few times before fixing her brother.
"It, dear brother, Blizzardwrath has not matured enough, their scent is unsettled either way."
Alexander stumbled a bit.
"It? You mean Blizzardwrath could end up female?! But all the instructors assured that he- it had matured to a fine drake-"
Jewel huffed hard enough it billowed both her brother's beard and Blizzardwrath's feathers.
"Your sister's nose does not lie brother, Blizzardwrath has not settled yet. Which is fortunate as I expect it will grow quite a bit more for that."
He laughed and shook his head.
"Far be it for me to question such a regal snout as my hound of a sister!"
Jewel frowned at the insult. But could not keep the grin from quickly splitting her face.
"Either way, the sex of Blizzardwrath hardly matters for the tack and rigging. You have your flying leathers packed?"
At Alexander's nod Jewel nodded to her footmen to see to it.
They obeyed swiftly and adequately. Smithson's own tutelage showing its merit and Alexander was responsibly watchful as Blizzardwrath stiffened at the approach of strangers. But the good mood and Jewel's own gentle grooming seemed to have soothed any apprehension from the beast.
At her brother's confirming nod they unloaded the garments and began attaching the harness straps of Blizzardwrath's tack. Something which was obviously making the young Gryphon excited although it exercised the will and determination expected of its station very admirably.
Merely ruffling its feathers in waves of delight that only slightly inconvenienced the footmen.
Alexander rushed into the manor house to have his own riding kit and the rest of his luggage secured.
Jewel sighed at that.
Wherever her brother had picked up that habit of carrying the entirety of his travel supplies and luggage on his own back she really wanted to admonish them. He at least still marched with guard and horse. But besides the feed for the other animals on the hackneys he was always hauling his own supplies, burdened like a mule and jangling with camp material.
It only took a few minutes for Alexander to get kitted for flight.
When he emerged in his Rochford black flight leathers the excitement that had been barely restrained in Blizzardwrath was bubbling over into excited wriggles and little just aborted hopping and bobbing of the head.
Finally, beak parted as her brother's bond began to trill in excitement, completely forgetting about Jewel and the two unfortunate footmen that were trying to check the ties.
Jewel gently pressed the excitable gryphon down at its back, right in the place where the harnesses crossed. Where her brother would be tied down to secure him in the lee of the otherwise torrential winds which blew past a Gryphon in flight.
A soft coo from her throat, a gentle soothing tone as she had heard Honeydown make over Blizzardwrath's egg.
It was enough to snap the Gryphon to look at her with a stilled shock.
Allowing the footmen to finish securing the main lines of the harness and settle them under the feathers, cinched close to the skin.
Then Alexander was there and Jewel was no longer needed to keep the excitable beast still. The excitement went from a jittering motion to an absolute stillness of anticipation as its rider swung into position in the small between the wings of its back.
Her brother scooted and shuffled himself around until the loose straps of his flight leathers were draped comfortably close to their complements. Out of the way of the primary flight feathers.
Jewel fussed at the neck collar of his helm. Making sure it was properly secured while the footmen did their duty of joining the loose straps of his armor to the rest of Blizzardwrath's harness.
Her brother took up the proper posture for a scout. Almost laying forward in his kit. No place for a gryphon bow.
Something in her wyrmflame felt like it was overflowing inside her. Saturating not just her scales but the air immediately around her. The wind of Blizzardwrath mingled with that flow, already flexing the extent of the wake which would soon carry her brother up into the sky to join her.
Finally there was no more to check and Jewel could only barely stand the wait anymore.
It was still mid day, and even with the bite of winter they should both be able to manage a few hours in the sky.
"Brother, are you ready?"
He responded to her in the now almost stilted looking pattern of traditional Gryphon Cant.
'Ready for flight'
Jewel responded with the Gryphon Cant for a clear and safe sky.
Then the excitement of the moment overwhelmed both her, Alexander and Blizzardwrath.
Gryphon and Dragon snapped their wings wide.
The wind roared as the wakes of each reached full extension.
Even still a fledgeling Blizzardwrath's was wider than Jewel's. But she didn't mind, The first wing beat was only just starting to arrest the weight of her brother and his steed.
Jewel was a full body length in the air before their second wingbeat.
By the third Blizzardwrath was falling below her.
The poor footmen had to crouch down into the ground to avoid being toppled in the wake of an ascending gryphon rider.
The snow of winter was a billowing storm that suited Blizzardwrath's name.
Jewel was ahead, but her lightened body was soon failing to maintain her lead.
The others' ascent only grew faster as her brother and the Gryphon gained on her in altitude. But she didn't mind, even past the howling wind she heard the booming trill of Blizzardwrath's joy. Climbing with hungry devouring scoops of air past its wings as it fought with furious downdrafts to rise up to meet her.
She saw the joyous posture in her brother's shoulders even as he was pressed close to the back of his bond, head nestled just right amidst the feathers so the wind blew around them in complement instead of fighting the currents.
By the twentieth wingbeat Jewel was struggling to keep up in her ascent with the young Gryphon.
And shortly after it was her turn to strive to win in a race with no purpose but the joy of flight in the crisp shining light of a winter's afternoon.
Her arms spread and waved when she saw Alexander had lifted his head to survey their surroundings.
'This way, Come look, sightings!'
She really needed to teach her brother the more versatile Flight Cant she had made with Father and the other flyers of the Army. Probably also the Valasek Far Cant. Although not all of it would be legible at flight distances even with a Gryphon Rider's eyes.
But for now the simple signs and gestures made with wings and arms would suffice.
Her brother gestured agreement with her and Jewel spun and twisted in the air, swooping past the rushing arrow of Blizzardwrath before they could turn about.
Laughing with the wind at the Gryphon's shocked cry of alarm.
It would seem that Jewel needed to spend some time teaching Blizzardwrath in spars just as much as she had done so with Alexander.
The thought of those exercises in the future filled her heart with an even fiercer light of Wyrmflame.
Her voice filled the winter skies in the sound of Jewel's joy.
Jewel missed supper in the Rochford feasting hall.
Even sitting here at her family's familiar table it was no longer the same. She only spoke as little as she could afford to and the tension of propriety hung over everything.
It was not for lack of warmth between her family. Alexander, her father and mother, all of them were just as warm in private. But one of her family shrank from Jewel's voice, turned away from her gaze. Hid in her mother's skirt when they passed in the hallway.
Gwenn.
Her sister was afraid of Jewel. And far too little time had been available to repair her trust. Instead of having time to reassure Jewel had to go to Kaeketeh.
She had to go to the Capital right afterwards.
Her dear sister was terrified of Jewel, but at the very least she still loved Gem.
Which was why that despite sitting there in her family's hall and eating at the same table with all of her loved ones in attendance, she missed family meals.
Because this was no longer a simple time to bond together as a family, it was an official dinner, it was the bare minimum that little Gwenn could stand. And not a moment more. Jewel would remember hugging her sister, she would remember comforting her, listening to her youthful fears.
She would even recall how Gwenn worried over her, over Gem. Confided in secret how terrible it must be to have a monster have to take her away all the time.
And Jewel's heart was too torn by those words as her smaller self to even begin to try and explain the truth. The very thought of making her dear sister somehow fearful of both of her selves cut sharper than could be borne.
Even if she could manage the composure to speak anything coherent under that specter.
So instead Jewel only imposed upon her sister exactly as much as was strictly necessary and not a moment more.
She met with her family for meals that were studiously polite, with all the grace and gentleness of a countess. But Jewel was not a sister or a daughter in those dinners, she was not part of the family anymore.
Not for Gwenn.
Jewel squeezed her sister's shoulder with the diminutive hand of Gem. She saw the strained smile of her mother at that.
Her sister was still frightened.
Just like Imre had been.
They sat, they ate. Alexander, brave, foolish Alexander seemed to be not aware of the situation at all. Then again their sister had seen less of him then Jewel.
But what was simply shyness and uncertainty of the strange young man was still the strained effort of bravery from her sister.
Jewel was proud of Gwenn, she could smell the girl's fear. But she faced it with bravery, with no more support than the presence of her mother. But it still stung, Jewel wondered if maybe she could ask Thurzo to visit so that Imre could share his 'secret'.
But she suspected her little sister was too clever for something so foolish to work.
Empty words, spoken as sparsely as could be managed, passed Jewel's lips. Dead statements around the slightly less strained discourse. Her sister was slowly growing distracted from Jewel's presence by Alexander's boastful stories of the Eyrie.
"So then Blizzardwrath tried to swallow the entire goat! Nevermind it was only yay big!"
He gestured with his hands just half again as wide as his own shoulders, inspired warm chuckles and a peel of laughter from Gwenn. Jewel could only smile with her larger self. But she joined with Gem's trilling laughter for the antics of the gryphon chick in past years.
It was almost right.
But as her father spoke up of the old tale of how Zephyrvam had behaved as a chick (he was afraid of rain for years!) Jewel saw her sister's gaze meet her own and then turn away to hide in Mother's dress.
A soft squeeze and a whisper of comfort was offered and by the time that their father had finished his story Gwenn was again at least showing her face. Trying to focus on her plate of mashed peas and honeyed pork, but with a tension to her shoulders.
Jewel eats only enough to not insult her family's table. Slowly lifting a haunch of ham to delicately bite off slivers of meat and softly chew and swallow them.
No motion too rushed or violent. Nothing to remind her sister of her presence.
With Gem she could be more properly feasting. Grasping the honestly a bit oversized haunch of pig shoulder with both little hands, tearing into the crispy honey of the skin with her many dainty teeth.
Chewing and swallowing with the proper gusto of a feasting participant.
Making faces with her sister to distract and amuse. All to keep her eyes off of the gently moving wyrm in the background. Trying to help keep up the facade of a family dinner alive.
So much attention that even with two heads and two sets of eyes and two hearts to use in the effort it was slowly draining and exhausting Jewel to maintain it. Even the practice she had with the feasts in Kaeketeh or the meals shared in the Capital were not so hard.
But every night at her family's table was a gauntlet.
They were only ten days away from the longest night. She'd set aside time to finally enjoy the winter season with her family. With all of her family, for the first time in years.
This should have been joyous.
It should have been an opportunity for her to play with Gwenn just as she once had with Alexander.
In a way it was.
As Gem she still could.
But Gem was just one part of Jewel.
And despite how much she wished for it she could not cut off the misery of the wyrm. Could not forget how even in the joy she had as her spawn there was another half of her yearning what she could not have.
This could not continue.
Jewel had to do something.
As she swallowed a far too big mouthful with Gem's relatively minute jaws. Astounding her sister/aunt with the sheer volume that her neck could extend to pass food Jewel began to plot.
At least until Gwenn took it as a challenge and nearly choked herself on ham trying to match Gem's own ability. Then her mother had to help clear the girl's throat with a heavy blow to the back.
The momentary panic inspired laughter and comments at how brave she was.
Mother brought up one of the many times Alexander had done similar trying to match Jewel's own capacity to devour supper.
Which unfortunately drew her sister's gaze back to Jewel.
Eyes fixing on the wyrm's lips.
The jaws that could almost certainly finish off the girl in one bite if Jewel set her mind to it.
Gem's arms were wrapped around her sister before she even realized it and gave her the firmest hug she could.
Jewel could only shake her head, something had to be done about this!
Okay, so there weren't any REAL Thieves Guilds in real life... except maybe for one exception. In London in the early 18th century, a man named Jonathan Wild found himself in debtor's prison. There, he made criminal contacts, with whose help he, upon release, set himself up as a lawman -- a 'thief-taker', who would capture thieves and recover stolen goods. In reality, his gang of organized criminals would steal property, which Wild would 'recover' for a fee. He had a reputation for being ruthless with thieves, and even got support from the authorities. He methodically took control of the gangs of London, running a crime syndicate and ruling various criminal rings of pickpockets, burglars, and highwaymen. Thieves who wanted to operate in his territory had to pay him a cut of their earnings or risk being turned over to the authorities. Thieves trying to operate independently found themselves set up and turned in for bounties. He became a sort of underworld lord, dictating who could steal what, when, and where. He used staged show trials of criminals (often his rivals) to keep up the appearances as a 'protector' of the common good.
His downfall came when he overreached, and betrayed one of his associates, Jack Shepperd, who had become a folk hero for his daring escapes. The scrutiny caused by his public betrayal eventually exposed the whole operation, and he was captured, tried, and hung!
Adelyne walked through Rochford beside the rest of the noble family of her lady.
And she marveled at the numerous ways she could feel to draw and divert attention. It was like dancing through a city of sheets hanging to dry. It was like sneaking through a building so abandoned that the spiderwebs somehow filled it.
It was like slipping through a crowd made of ghosts untouched.
It was all of those things and yet it was also walking just straight backed enough. Staying just to the right of her lady's hip.
Not far enough behind the flick of the tail would draw sight to her.
No, the place where she barely felt a single glance towards her was just close enough and just a few steps away to the dragon's side that she apparently simply wasn't quite notable.
Attention brushed her but not deeply, not sharply.
There was also of course the dress, she was wearing the garments of the staff of Valasect. She was carrying a bundle of incredibly floral and rich smelling sticks and weeds and some other stuff. She had a reason to be standing there and as long as she stepped with a grace of ceremony to match her lady she was practically nonexistent.
Rochford's way to celebrate winter seemed rather dour to Adelyne. Besides the children running around dressed as beasts. Wearing heavy furs that bent over their backs either under weight or pantomime of monstrous gaits. Crowned with elk horns or bones or the tusks of a boar.
Besides that one bit of frivolity?
Nothing!
They didn't even sing with any real merriment. They sang a dirge at certain houses, and when Adelyne listened to them it was more laments for fallen relatives at each house than any kind of celebration.
These country folk were so depressing.
If it wasn't for the naked old man playing a fiddle at the bonfire in front of the temple all night Adelyne would hardly be able to call it any kind of celebration at all!
She'd stayed clear of the crazy man last time her lady attended. They said he was god-worn for this day and night and she was inclined to believe it. Madness that was! What kind of place invited a god down to wear one of their own?!
And it did not always end well for the elder either.
A star spirit riding you all night to play a fiddle and dance through the coldest and longest night of the year?
Adelyne was surprised it took so many years in the role for them to die.
But at least the weather was nicer in Rochford.
So maybe there was something to it all?
The winters were warmer here in this valley than in Kaeketeh. She thought she'd imagined it the first time but after returning home for a proper Kaeketeh winter she was sure of it.
Rochford and its valley in the middle-east of the Ridgetails had a warmer time of it than her city.
They might only celebrate the one longest night (and barely could be said to celebrate at that).
But perhaps all the gods bothering and chanting and singing in the temple had something to it?
She was no priest, but the morning after had felt brighter last time.
Maybe the man who was forced to dance and fiddle at the whim of the spirit wearing him like a heavy coat helped somehow?
Adelyne stuck to her wizard granted gift, slipping beneath notice by standing tall and proper.
Going where she needed to be.
The thought of how badly she must have stood out last time she attended gave her gooseflesh up and down her spine.
Only no-
Someone was noticing her, something was taking her in not just by sight and sound or even scent.
She felt attention inside her guts, she felt a touch of knowing contact through her bones.
There was a presence brushing the inside of her skull so bad it itched!
She could feel how bad it would be if she reacted, how much of the entire town would turn to her if she so much as flinched at the contact.
But something was looking at Adelyne.
And as the noble family of Rochford and her Lady greeted 'The Veles' as they had before Adelyne realized who it was.
What it was.
The guise of a simple man turned to her after having spoken to the baron and his wife, after exchanging barely three words with the Countess of Viznove and her husband.
He stared at her with a smile of aching familiarity and tilted his head in a way she had missed.
A way she thought she would always miss now.
She stepped forward and the film of eyes running over her skin made her want to shiver but it was nothing against the way the thing saw her body from within and without.
Adelyne avoided the temples in Kaeketeh, they gave little to beggars and less to thieves.
Too much silver needed spending on the work of god bothering maybe.
Children without proper parents didn't get the attention of gods, she thought.
Only explanation for anything.
But Adelyne could feel the gaze of the thing behind the man's eyes now. The way it saw her like a tongue through the muscle and sinew.
And it was moving like he did.
Like her old grandfather Ginter.
Smiling just the same way, nodding in just the way he used to when he was waiting for her to fess up to something foolish after he'd gotten her out of a bind. She was standing before him, eyes going wet. Tears running tracks down her cheeks with what she'd swear was just snow melt.
And she was trying to speak but too many words lodged in her throat.
Too much she never got to say to the man that had raised her, taught her how to live on the street. Who had barely anything to call his own some nights but split half a roll of bread with a starving worthless child anyway.
She couldn't ask a blessed damn thing like everyone was supposed to.
But for some reason the attention of the village's eyes on her were all brief, slipping away as if she was somehow stripped naked before them.
Like they were ashamed to intrude on what was happening.
There was a keening noise in her throat, a wheezing thing that hardly could relieve the building pressure in her throat and chest.
But at last a strange kindly old voice, that was not at all Ginter's but yet somehow echoed of him anyway.
"Adelyne, Little Addy, Foolish idiot of a girl. You haven't learned yet how to think before instead of after. Getting stuck into business over your head. But look at you swimming against the current anyway. Old Ginter is proud of you girl. Don't have a doubt about that. He's proud."
They were simple words, things she'd already heard before.
Things she had suspected.
But it left her shuddering and gasping for breath to hear a stranger's voice somehow say them exactly how he would have.
She couldn't focus on slipping beneath notice. A gentle touch took the sacred offering of Viznove from her hands before she could drop it.
A gentle but strong hand was at her back and holding her shoulder.
But a void of inattention, of actively avoiding looking at her in this moment surrounded her. No one looked but they acknowledged her presence.
It felt lighter and softer than sight.
She stumbled and struggled to keep her feet. Her chest felt like someone had pried open her ribcage. She couldn't breathe steadily. Her throat burned with the tears pouring out of her eyes. She couldn't even see as they entered the temple.
But somehow in that moment she found her voice when the strange foreign words of the song filled the space.
As she sang and she cried for the loss of her grandfather Adelyne could feel a light inside her pushing against the dark. A fiery warmth of heat that had been absent last time she attended this strange country folk ceremony.
She felt the weight of the hungry winter sky pressing down on her, but she pushed back against it with her voice.
Not alone, but bolstered by everyone in that temple.
Buffeted and sheltered beneath the wings of her lady.
"However, I am moved by your entreaty. And there is an opportunity that The Realm of Cantor Reborn can offer you and a few of your chosen warriors personal power."
Jewel could only just stop either of her necks from snapping around to look at the High King. The look on his face and the tone in his voice is far too familiar.
The prince however looked dubious.
"To reclaim the Vlach I will need force to slay an army. That is no trifle, not even for your esteemed war wizards and their magic. What power could you possibly offer?"
Jewel felt a cold premonition.
"A Sufficient one for that, but its nature is one best discussed behind closed doors. It however will not come without a cost Prince of the Vlach Lands."
Prince Vladimer fixed his slightly bulging eyes on The High King. Then uttered with a conviction that further chilled Jewel's flame.
Being reminded of when little Imre had been terrified of her.
But instead of a friend's son who she did not want to frighten, it was her own sister.
She could feel the tremble in Gwenn's palm as she gently squeezed back reassurance to her sister/aunt via Gem's hand.
The slowing growth of her spawn's body had not been overcome. Although taller than she had been, Gem's slender digits and minute palm was dwarfed by her sister's. But Jewel didn't mind the disparity.
It had let her hold onto a connection with the girl that she desperately needed.
Even if it had been strained by absence.
Gwenn was never at ease again around Jewel. Not after the night of her outburst. But she still treated Gem like a confidant.
And it was through much assurance via Gem, struggling to bring her faltering words and jumbled syllables to the task (and a bit of careful lessons in Valasect Cant) that Jewel was able to inspire in her sister that no matter how large her wyrm self was Gem could protect her.
That nothing her 'mother' could do would get past Gem.
It wasn't even a lie like the whole charade with the saffron. Although even that was somewhat true, Jewel hated the spice, but Imre had nothing to fear of Jewel eating him without it.
Gwenn was not as afraid of her as Imre had been.
But she was Jewel's sister, and even the amount that she shied away from Jewel now dampened her wyrmflame like a wet smothering blanket on hot coals.
But she trusted Gem and she was a daughter of Rochford.
She was brave.
Jewel just wished she didn't have to overcome a fear of her own sister.
Gem pried the words from the uncomfortably short throat. She juggled every syllable on her tongue and teeth. It was clumsy, she tripped on the sounds. But for her sister she would do this.
"I-its alr-right G-gwenn. S-see?"
They took another step, Gem was surer in limb and muscle then she had ever been, but Gwenn had already grown to a point that if she wanted to not move forward she could simply plant her feet and there was little Jewel would be able to do with her smaller self.
Not without a running start.
Jewel's sister took a shaky breath.
She turned up to face the object of her fear, the thing she had confided about with her little 'niece' in private. Things said where no adult, not even the sisters' mother would hear.
"H-hello, S-sister."
Jewel held her face still, but it hurt to hear her sister struggling with words the same way she did with her spawn's speech.
She spoke softly, keeping her resonance to a minimum,
"Hello Sister, thank you for coming. There is something I need to say."
Jewel squeezed her sister/aunt's hand. Jewel was still not sure she agreed with Bethica that it was unfair to deny her spawn a place in the family that was her own. But for now it was better for her sister and that was all that mattered.
"W-What is it?"
Gwenn shivered as she spoke despite how much Jewel tried to be gentle. But the girl firmed up after and even though there was a glint of tears to her eyes she faced Jewel head on with all the seriousness of a Knight meeting her on the battlefield.
Barons, Counts and higher ranking men and women had faltered in meeting Jewel's gaze.
She was so proud of her sister who still reeked of terror.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry Gwenn, I spoke in anger and wroth to our father and I frightened you. It was petty and foolish anger. It harmed you and our family and I am ashamed to have done it."
Her sister trembled but Jewel could already see the mettle of Rochford on display.
What in Alexander was often far too much foolish confidence. The bravery that saw them taking up the mantle of Gryphon Lord with every generation that had the opportunity.
Not even in her Sixth winter and yet Gwenn faced her fear and nodded. Severe in a way that seemed surprisingly rare in adults, yet Jewel had seen that core of strength come through in more than a dozen youths.
But it was still not quite enough. So she continued.
"I'm so sorry sister, I never wanted to frighten you. I swear on my flame I will never hurt you."
She breathed the faintest touch of wyrmflame into the worlds. She could feel her fire swell and take root upon her bones and flesh. Cutting momentarily with a sting like hooks. But it was worth it. She could feel the the softness of the working sapping at her fire.
Barely any at all.
Gem took in more wyrmflame than this each evening.
But the power behind the working did not matter compared to the solidity of it. The assurance.
The truth of it echoing in the chamber.
Gwenn finally found her words.
"Promise?"
Jewel nods down to her sister and squeezes her left hand in both of Gem's.
"I Promise"
The smell of fear fades and the determination and sternness fully takes hold on her sister's face.
She marches up to Jewel's coils. Dragging Gem behind her, only stopping when she was close enough to touch the Wyrm's belly.
Jewel's eyes never leave her sister's.
The little girl who although a head taller than Gem was still barely even tall enough to see over the width of Jewel's belly had tears in her eyes and furious glare to her before she started screaming and kicking Jewel in the belly.
It doesn't hurt, the little foot is mostly bouncing off of the flex of her scales.
Jewel was fine, their father could have struck her with a spear and done as much harm. But she gaped at her sister as the screaming got shriller and the foot was joined first by a clenched little fist and then the other hand pulled away from Gem's loose grasp.
Soon her sister is screaming at the top of her lungs and beating, kicking on Jewel's belly as hard as she could. Unleashing a fury that would have been frightening if it was not entirely harmless.
By the time Gwenn has screamed herself out and slumped against Jewel's belly to cry into the still impervious coils everyone in the household was either in the room or peering in through the door.
Mother and Father standing back from their daughters. Alexander had also joined them.
Muriel and Smithson are a bit closer.
But no one dared to get too close to Gwenn or Gem.
Jewel simply stared at her sister who, having exhausted her fury was now crying, pressing in her face and hugging as tight as she could into Jewel's belly. Just a bit up from the wyrm's waist.
No one else in the room likely could make out the heavily muffled and soppy demand from her sister.
"Don't yell at daddy anymore, it's scary."
The little girl wiped the snot from her face and then tried to dry her slimy palms off on Jewel's scales. But it mostly didn't work. Wyrm scales were not very absorbent and Jewel's belly was too smooth to catch and scrape it off either.
The Countess of Viznove had only one thing she could say to her sister.
The bridge between her sister and Jewel was not fully repaired. She was still hesitant sometimes when Jewel came into the room or raised her voice suddenly.
But it was a start on mending.
She practiced Valasect Cant with Gwenn as Gem. She spoke to her sister about what it was like to fly with their brother. Her sister was ultimately a very young child and Jewel had quite a lot of experience with Children.
All the boar festivals and Gem's friends in Valasect made her confident in how to help sooth her sister's fears now that they had time together.
Now that the first wall of terror had been torn down.
Mother and Father had wanted to admonish Gwenn for her outburst but Jewel had insisted that no harm or dishonor was done to her.
She'd insisted that Gwenn promise that she would not act like that with any man or beast besides Jewel. She was soft spoken and gentle and although unwilling at first Mother and Muriel eventually agreed and then helped to further explain the need to her sister.
Another exciting moment however was what she had found after the Longest Night's ritual was complete.
Although it had taken a day for it to finish settling, Jewel's wyrmflame had once again fully replaced the lines of divine miracle and mortal sorcery that had taken hold in Gem's flesh. Even better, Gem could even gently shape, restrain or express the flame within herself!
Even when Jewel's wyrmish body was not present!
Tsulogothulan was making an effort to see if one of the few workings they had bothered to shape into a practicable spell could be enacted by Jewel's spawn. Some kind of test of the nature of Wyrmish Sorcery and how it may or may not differ from other methods such as wizardry, invoking of the divine and even simpler minor spells.
"Hmmm, no you need to spin the finger like this while twisting the wrist and splaying the other two fingers out."
The Bog Weird extended a hand not much larger than Gem's own and made the gesture that was not exactly different from Flight Cant but also not quite a match. When Jewel watched with her larger eyes she could feel the faux flame trying to catch and pull into shape like a thread.
But it tangled in the wyrm flame that ran along Gem's own scales.
Causing it to require slightly modified motions to compensate. Ones that Gem couldn't quite make without Jewel's direct supervision.
The second hardest part after managing to grasp something in your fingers that you could neither see nor touch was getting the shape of the sounds right. Uloghai was significantly harder than the tongues of the middle Ridgetail valleys.
At least in Gem's mouth.
And the spell absolutely would not work spoken in any language but Tsulogothulan's mother tongue.
Jewel thought there was actually even more to that than merely the words themselves. As she watched the Weird performing the simple sorcery which could pull the water from the soil and air to fill a vessel.
There was a subtle presence being left behind in the faux fire of the room before Gem was guided to move her hands through the very same air.
When Gem said the words which were a Uloghai rhyme asking for rain to wet a thirsty throat the shape of the faux fire did not just simply move in the tugging thread, or form in the swirling net carried by her words.
The act of learning the spell was not only a calling or changing of the flame within the world.
Or even drawing on the wyrmflame that pulsed and moved through her own flesh.
No, every repetition under Tsulogothulan's careful guidance was catching pieces of the flame in the air onto Gem's fingertips. Every proper recitation of the spell's rhyme drew some of that specific faux flame into her lungs before releasing it out again shaped by the words and tongue.
And with every syllable and breath it stuck to Gem's teeth, to her throat.
Something was happening that was more then Tsulogothulan's instructions suggested.
There was so much to potentially get wrong in even this simple spell.
Every slight correction by her friend for the actions, posture, breathing rate, rhythm, exact enunciation, tilt of her head.
It left further traces of sorcery upon Gem.
Jewel was not sure of the providence of it, she'd only observed so many workings done by someone who was neither wizard, god, or a caller of either.
Her own sorcery felt almost invisible in how intuitive it was. Accidental as much as intentional. The acts of even Jaksa and the other lesser wizards she saw were direct and immediate, yet also seemingly subtle and inherent.
Weirds barely even seemed to do anything but the workings themselves.
There was the whispery, not words they might use to be specific, but as often an act from a weird could be a suggestive glance or undercurrent of meaning as much as a clear declaration.
The spell that Gem was slowly working to enact by rote felt like none of these things.
It was not even like the rituals she had seen performed in the temple.
There was a precision to it.
It reminded Jewel much of producing a full manuscript page. As opposed to the messenger script used for missives by birds. Or the even greater expedient of speaking.
Also the acts were exhausting.
Not in physical stress or any sapping of inner power.
But in the sheer drudgery of the attempts.
Gem had moved her tail in a way that Tsulogothulan had not agreed with and that had caused the air to barely grow damp around Jewel's spawn and her practice.
They had not even managed more than a few drops of water on a plate for hours of effort.
If she didn't see the fauxfire of the sorcerous working herself and knew that Gem did not sweat Jewel would have been suspicious that the few drops of moisture on the earthenware plate were from simple exertion.
Before Gem could take another try at calling water forth into a plate Smithson walked into the dining hall with a plate of honeyed pork.
"It's time for the littlest lady to have her mid day meal!"
Tsulogothulan nodded at that, rolling their violet eye all over Gem, then with barely even a whisper of sorcery the drops of water were pulled back into the air.
"I think this is a good point to stop anyway, I don't think this spell is a good fit for Gem. I'll make another one that makes better use of her tail and that hand speech she knows. Being able to say the intent in both voice and fingers while you cast the net to draw the water so you call should make for a better working."
Tsulogothulan gave a sharp nod in emphasis.
"Also it's a waste to not use your tail as well. It muddles this spell but it is a good appendage for swamps. We shall try again in the spring when there is more wet to the air as well. But this was a good first attempt with so little dampness in the air."
And then like that the entire figure splashed into the stones of the floor, seeping between them while soaking up all the faintly rotten water that had been dampening under the wizard.
Jewel nodded to Smithson with her larger head while Gem was taking up her place at the table. Smithson settled in to have some of the pork himself with his dining knife. Dutifully ignoring how much buzzing excitement was overwhelming Jewel and manifesting in a kind of quivering anticipation in Gem's thighs and neck.
"So the little one, that is you are learning sorcery? Don't you already know sorcery?"
Jewel huffs and shakes her head. Speaking with the throat she was more comfortable with. Also she might choke on spit if she tried to do something as complicated as words with how full of drool Gem's mouth had become.
"Wyrmish sorcery is different, And none of Tsulogothulan's spells ever worked at all for me when we tried before Gem hatched."
Smithson hummed.
"Oh. Is that why you were so upset on your twelfth hatching day?"
Jewel huffed and nodded.
Finally all the pork pieces were cut up into proper throwing portions and Gem's hips and tail could not help but wriggle. The new clothing was far more comfortable for her tail than the simple infant's smock had ever been.
It didn't get in the way of moving at all!
Not even the tail!
Smithson tossed a piece of honeyed, crispy pork into the air over Gem's head. A short lunge and the snap of her jaws closed around the absolutely star blessed crispy sweet-salt of Rochford pig roasted in honey!
Dariusz was really perfecting the way to add a dash of spices to improve the nuance.
"So, if you could not perform any 'spells' I am assuming 'Gem' can?"
Her Nurse Knight licked the honey from his fingertips and popped his own piece of candied pork in to chew before sending a few more through the air over Gem.
Jewel just didn't understand why this was so much fun. She'd never wanted to snatch food out of the air before Gem had hatched. But the first time she'd done it as her spawn the thrill of it had filled both her hearts with an unfathomable amount of joy.
"Yes, we first noticed a hint of it at the last Longest Night Celebration Gem attended in Rochford."
Smithson nodded, trading off feeding himself and her daughter.
"And she, that is you, can in fact do it?"
Jewel nodded.
Her once squire hummed and nodded before he began tossing the rest of Gem's mid day meal into the air for her to snap up with her jaws.
The young Countess of Viznove would never have imagined that she could so viscerally understand the delight that hounds had doing this. The act of it felt incredibly improper, and yet her daughter, her spawn, her smaller self was undeniably having such a delightful time of it that she could not muster the effort to care.
The feeling of contentment and happiness welling up in both her chests demanded further acknowledgement.
It was tricky to get the words together right and time it so the voices spoke in unison. Even harder to keep the stumbles from Gem's tongue.
"Thank you, Smithson."
Jewel had long since learned what it meant when her knight's face flushed bright pink like that.
But the memory of her youthful mistakes caused Gem to burst out into laughter.
Jewel's lips merely smiled at how she was embarrassing him.
I can not believe this... Snatching pork out of the air... She is right it is incredibly improper and I cannot believe I have read this! It's supposed to be done with popcorn! Popcorn I say! Preferably with a light sprinkle of cheese powder, white cheddar being the best. Now do excuse me while I raid my snack stash...
This is the end of Book II: The Blood Immaculate. It's been a fun ride and I won't squash any discussion or commentors. But new chapters will be on hold for at least the rest of the year. I'll begin posting again once I've built up my backlog enough I'm confident I won't need a major retcon. Been a fun ride with all of you and hope to see you again when I begin posting the third book in this series.
The Treacherous Stars
13.9
It was the third day after the dawn of a new year.
Jewel was nineteen winters old now.
A Countess, A Lady and a Wife to a Husband she was pleased to know and have to support her.
She was now even a mother in a strange and confusingly wyrmish way. A Woman of quite some regard, a mistress of a city and a Demesne. But also undeniably a powerful dragon. Jewel had cursed a thousand men in a fit of anger and frustration she could not take back. She had somehow found mercy and forgiveness for an empty husk of a corpse that had once been a woman.
She had faced Guildmasters, Vassals, Nobles, Captains, Gods and High Kings and in many real ways she had to accept she had been victorious against each.
But now she was out in what was becoming her family's traditional winter ride. Not really a hunt although even all these years later Alexander, nearly as tall as their father had brought his hunting bow.
For the first time in so many years her entire family could be together for this day.
Blizzardwrath and Zephyrvam were both warily eyeing one another as the small party made their way through the fresh snow. But the bond and scent of their riders kept the posturing between the beasts to a minimum.
Gwenn was riding with Mother mostly bundled and held rather than actually supporting herself.
She didn't much like the cold despite her heavy winter coat and coverings.
Gem was settled despite her size fully astride the saddle in front of Smithson. The fire caught in a fibrous weaving through her flesh, skin and bone warmed her substantially. Not enough to claim the imperviousness to winter's bite Jewel enjoyed.
But it dulled the teeth considerably.
Paul was in a heavy black woolen cloak. Jewel had spun its thread herself and she was pleased how well it shielded him from the bracing chill of the day.
Her husband was mostly quiet, looking through the woods and considering the ice that hung from the branches, shining in bright hues within the morning sun's radiance. He occasionally would offer compliments for the stewardship of her father but didn't dive deeply into the subject.
The rest of her family more than filled in the clean air with jovial words.
Jewel was interchangeably discussing Gwenn's trials as a young child and sharing pointers and anecdotes with her father and Alexander regarding the nature of aerial combat.
As Gem she was also helping to teach Smithson the proper Valasect hand signs for the things they passed in their ride. Gwenn and her mother were also included when either paid attention. There was not much to really point out, Deer preferred to stay deeper into the woods in Rochford winter.
But the small number of subjects seemed to help them learn rather than hinder them.
Winter sky in Rochford was as seasonably clear as ever. The familiar intensity of the sun soaking into Jewel's wings. The crisp break of a night's frost beneath her toes and fingers punctuating the gentle conversations.
Words and gestures passed between close confidants and family.
The black charger her husband rode was nervous.
Unfamiliar with these woods.
Definitely not a foal reared in Rochford then.
Paul remained quiet, although he contributed the few signs he knew.
By the time the sun had climbed just past its zenith and they were having to turn back to home Gwenn, Smithson and Gem were trading turns playing the scouting game Jewel had passed her time with on the march.
The vocabulary shared between them was small but Smithson and Jewel's mother both made enough mistaken 'pronunciations' to keep it humorous.
By the time they were almost out of the woods Alexander and her father had joined in the game.
Which strained the comprehension of Smithson but Jewel was able to keep the Gryphon riders to the easier or more obvious gestures shared between Valasect and Flight Cant.
By the time they were indoors and everyone else (including Gem) was exulting in the warmth of the keep there was laughter between the family that Jewel could not have explained to anyone ignorant of the way one sign could look like another.
There was sadly no wool or thread free for spinning or weaving, She had unfortunately cleared out all the Rochford wool available earlier that winter.
But she was able to settle in with her sister, mother and daughter to fuss over the stitching on the wyrm spawn's finery. Wear from the road and the feasts in the capital had pulled stitches loose and some of the places it rubbed often against Gem's scales were already going thin.
Between the four of them and their various skills in women's work portions were either padded underneath, frays closed and seams and thread that had come loose pulled gently out and then redone.
Jewel knew she could have paid the guilds to do this work.
But then what would she do with her family today?
They spoke softly and gently with one another in the impromptu sewing circle. Enjoying the warmth of the fire.
Working dutifully on the tiny little bit of delicate fabric between them.
Supper came some hours later and though they didn't even really begin to make progress on all the repairs needed Jewel thought much had been accomplished.
They of course had a very hearty and delicious Stew made by Dariusz. At her own insistence she asked his family to join hers for this night. Jewel's size required the use of a substantial space within the Rochford keep anyway.
Why not fill it with both their households?
That of course brought the rest of the Rochford staff together as well. And while it was now a far larger and more crowded affair than her usual family dinner for that day Jewel felt none of the stiffness and propriety that had stifled meals with her family prior to this.
Jewel smiled over all the friendly faces.
On reflection she thought it had been a good celebration.
The Myth/Story of talking cows and them actually influencing Roman Republic politics was just too good to give up, originally it was gonna be a random world building blurb in the story but a wise friend found out I was going to do that and demanded that I write an actual talking cow.
And that is why we have Bethica and despite the fact she and her marital troubles took up an astounding amount of words I thought I could use for other things in the story I'm so glad I wrote her.
Well Isn't that a mouthful but I am nothing if not thorough. This ended up being such a fun tidbit about cow behavior that I just felt like it teemed with potential for cultural mannerisms in a variant of the animals fully capable of human speech.
So when I needed to come up with what kind of crime were people going to court for in medieval times I spent quite a while trying to dig up legible sources and this was some of the best I could find. Fascinating stuff honestly.
Hey did you know that Cicero's name is actually a nickname he chose/was chosen for him? And that it essentially means 'little pea'? This work is probably familiar to the antiquity philosophy geeks in the audience. But for the rest I recommend reading this work. It can be enlightening.
Word of warning though: having dug further into the politics of his era I've come to the conclusion that Cicero was kinda an awful person to many, also a politician in Rome, but I repeat myself.
The rest of this website is wonderful by the way, full of juicy historical documents in accessible translations.
So it turns out a lot of other writers have tried to tread the path I have gone down and made their own notes and observations.
Taking these in with my earlier sources really helped save me from a few linguistic mishaps.
For example, did you know that the word indenture used to be specifically about a kind of legal contract usually made for soldiers/mercenaries joining the army?
I didn't before I found it in this series which drew my attention to it and after some further digging to verify in other sources that one of the likely etymological roots for indenture is because you would write a contract twice (or sometimes thrice) on the same piece of parchment, and then very jaggedly cut them apart forming a toothy but unique matching set of 'teeth' hence dental, hence indenture.
It's a good idea when you want to reach for trauma, mental illness and other such instruments and systems for the purposes of your story that you know what you are talking about. That you bring humanity to the situation when you do. Or that when you choose to diverge from this you are doing it with your eyes open on what you are saying.
Really I feel like the cat is out of the bag on how this is a somewhat alternative history kind of fantasy story. Although I'm not doing something so crude as adhering slavishly to historical events. I will have you know I have very carefully and intentionally selected personages from many centuries apart from one another and some kneading of other events and influences were called for by this.
To be fair this is heartily in the tradition of fiction written back in the day as well, The story of king arthur is a very prominent example of such.
Still I try to make sure this jigsaw of inspirations meshes together sensibly in a shared context and a coherent if new fantasy history.
I recommend treating any references you notice as more of a use of archetypes and historical inspirations than guarantees for events or personality.
This is a really fantastic book and I'm so glad I was able to find a relatively affordable translation like it. I recommend reading it, especially for the portions that I ultimately could not find a place for in this story. I found the early 'credentials' the 'author' gave for his source (an old shepherd) fascinating as it effectively was the life story of a fairly common man and his trials.
Something we get a vanishingly small amount of details on in historical documents.
I admit that the Matthias in this story has very little to do with the actual man, except for his political place in history. Although kudos for those that noticed the reference and properly identified what dynasty his is a stand in for.
This is honestly a huge slog to get through and incredibly dull. I honestly think I failed to deliver the same tone that this book provided despite my desire to match it. However I think if I'd cleaved that closely to the material here the story would have suffered for it.
Modern Knight
This guy has a lot of fascinating explorations he has done on various things from a bit of a more down to earth perspective. Definitely recommend when paired with other sources for a bit of a sense of nuanced flavor for scenes in a period piece.
Crecganford
Fascinating deep dives into folkloric roots and some of the theories of their origins. Honestly just pick one of the videos if you want to sit down and listen to a folklore lecture. Lots of ideas taken up from here but not all. A bit dry for some but if you really love my interludes this should be a treat.
This is a wonderful series, but each of them are quite long, I admit that I mostly use them to fall asleep too but the approach and the depth of different cultural perspectives that each episode digs into is wonderful. Also there is a book if you prefer to read, but the voice acting (first in as close to the original language as possible and then dubbed over in translation) and music/audio ambience is a huge bonus for this series I think.
Hey, you accidentally misnamed the threadmark for 13.i.
This book was very fun to read! I never would have guessed that Bethica hadn't been planned from the start. I'll have to look into at least a few of those references. The title for the next book sounds ominous!
It'll be funny when Gwenn eventually realizes why Jewel started yelling at their father. There's a lot regarding her behavior regarding Jewel and Gem that she can be teased over once she's old enough to understand.
Dragon movement eh?
Yeah I can see it. I think I can name specific points in the story where Jewel in my head uses o e or another.
The Skink specifically gets the scene of that young monk gawking at her coils taking up the room and then almost expanding outward as she flows out sleepily, anytime she's in a hurry/flying gets the wind bounce, and the weasel waltz is a calm walk, in my head.
I will also admit to having amused myself at her expense a number times in my commentary.
she's having a real rough year of it, isn't she?
