Shining Wyrm & The Blood Immaculate [Original Fantasy/Dragon Fiction]

[Aabcehmu]

Vampires.*clap* Are *clap* Bad *clap* News! *clap*

Good on Jewel for reading the vibe right immediately.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.5

Jewel kept that terrible dangerous weight of a thought to herself for the rest of the High King's visit to Kaeketeh.

There were thankfully no more discussions of the awful things. At least none in meetings that Jewel had to attend.

Jaksa had apparently refused to give up a single one of his patients from the Kaeketeh dungeon and the Countess had backed him in this against the High King.

But the thought continued to writhe inside her flame.
She kept it to herself when her family departed from the city and headed back to Rochford.

She kept it quiet for the days in which they marched where her squire and the footmen could hear.

She kept quiet in the nights where they stayed within walls that could have listeners close by.

But finally they were camping in the old way station that had once been a guard tower.

Mother and Father stayed in the actual thick-walled stone room with Gem and Gwenn. The rest took the shelter of their tents, or in Jewel's case, nothing at all.

She liked to see the stars sometimes and without the worry of her harness or pack being soaked through by rain she did not really mind sleeping in the open.

With her kit safely stowed, it had been her habit on their annual trip to Kaeketeh each debt season to sleep under the open sky here.

But this night after the meal and before settling in for bed, Jewel gently tapped on the door.

Father's voice was tired, they had been traveling all day.

But he called for her to enter.

His tone and expression softened at the sight of her, and Mother was soon walking up as soon as Jewel finished furling herself up into as compact a tight coil as she could. The Tower was not sized for a Wyrm of her size.

How long would it even be possible to fit all of herself within?

She was growing slower but still she gained in length and girth each year.

Mother spoke first, softly.

Jewel's sister was sleeping; her other, smaller self was feigning it, but Jewel could still hear even if those eyes were closed.

"Jewel, what brings you to us daughter?"

The question left her addled. How could she even begin to ask?

Begin to even consider what she was considering?

She fidgeted like she hadn't for years.

Foreclaws and the thumb of each wing all tapping and brushing each other down over her collar bone.

Finally, under the tired but concerned stares of her parents Jewel found shame forcing her words where bravery could not.

"F-Father... is the High King... Is He... I m-mean... I-Is his rule J-just?"

A pained wince from Father that Jewel did not want to see.

She turned to her mother and did not see anything reassuring there either.

Mother again spoke first. Father had walked over to sit down at the simple stool the waystation kept.

"That is a very heavy burden to be considering my daughter. How long have you been carrying this question?"

Jewel spoke before she even realized it.

"Since the war."

That got a deep sigh from Father, before he finally spoke.

"Why dear daughter, why are you asking now? Why didn't you ask us sooner?"

Jewel let her forelegs drop onto her bundled up coils. Clenched her wings despite the tension that wanted to spring them open (which would be to disastrous consequence for the meager room she was in).

"I thought I had found the answer."

Mother offered a soft and gentle smile.

"Oh that sounds like my clever daughter, what had you concluded?"

Jewel sighed and met her mothers eyes.

"I thought he was."

The sad smile on Mother's face was making Jewel's wyrmfire and Gem's stomach both feel like they were being smothered in a tightly wrapping sodding cloth.

Mother's words were soft.

"But you don't anymore?"

Jewel shook her head.

"I don't know anymore."

Father was looking pensive and finally he spoke with a whisper that felt far worse than anger to Jewel just now.
"Tell me dear daughter, what is it that you do know?"

Jewel mustered herself, rallied her thoughts and memory. Taking deep breaths, focusing on her flame.

There were unwanted currents to her wyrm flame that could be stilled and smoothed out.

Made whole with her.

She even cycled some of her flame into and out of Gem to further center herself.

Ease the distraction of the emptiness there.

When at last she felt herself stable again, Jewel began to speak.

"I know that Father is a good lord, he is just in his dealings with our subjects. He is not unfair or demanding to our serfs and he readily opens our family stores with the servile and free residents of our demesne alike when they need it."

He and Mother laughed softly and smiled to her praise but Jewel continued.

"I Know that Bathory is a wicked fiend of a woman. She looks upon and treats all before her as beasts. Cattle, swine, trained dogs and flocks for her leisure. She's - She's been making such terrible things."

Father tensed at that, but his expression was stiff and there was a sternness there. Mother's own expression hardened a bit then she turned from Jewel to Father.

"So the rumors are true?"

Father rumbled then shook his head.
"No, the rumors are false, but honestly having seen some of the things for myself? It would have been better if they were true."

Mother offered a muttered exasperation that honestly sounded like a litany of curses in tone.

"Forhatan þār-eallan mearc fira bearn beoþ wita beadu or huntiġe"

Jewel had no idea what any of that meant. She almost understood it less for not being slurred through half a bottle of wine.

But Mother offered more coherent words after.

"And what do you know of the High King?"

Jewel mulled on that. What did she actually know?

For a long time she had known less than she did of the Countess Bathory before the war.

"He has earned the trust and respect of my friend Count Thurzó. He rules as the head of all the Realm of Cantor Reborn. He approved a war with the Countess Bathory with what he could see as a just cause."

Mother frowned as Jewel spoke, Father simply seemed saddened for some reason.

Was Jewel somehow failing in some way?

"I thought that the Countess in her wickedness had lied about his coveting of me. Lied about what he would do to our family."

That made it even worse, Jewel could smell the pain and sadness clear as daylight in a summer sky.

Perhaps it was that the High King was not in fact just? She hurried to assure them otherwise.

"But then when he saw the things that the Countess had made, He wanted them. He wanted to make more of them! He coveted them! Just like the Countess Said he coveted me."

Jewel shook her head a bit to try and distract herself from the awful sadness that swept off her parents in a stink.

They were sad, but not surprised.

Jewel was not even sure what that could mean.

Father offered his words, and his voice sounded brittle.

"The cruel and terrible can be truthful, and for all their wickedness a liege can still be a good steward of their lands, subjects and vassals in spite of it."

Mother frowned at Father over that; Jewel could smell a current of anger there. Hints from discussions Jewel had heard behind closed doors away from the ears of staff or court.

Mother's mouth was a thin line before she turned back to Jewel and then said with a steel to her voice that was usually softened.

"The very kind and trusted can also be terrible and unjust to their people. It is a rare and precious thing to have all one knows to align simply and say if a lord or lady is Just."
Father nodded and tried to offer wisdom. His words were in the tone of the wise but as they landed Jewel did not feel the clarity that he had always been able to bring her.

"The Countess named you her heir, she betrothed you to her son. For all her terrible cruelty and monstrous acts. She has given you and our family everything. Protected us and you."

Jewel did not want to be hearing this. She wanted her parents to give her answers, to bring things into the simple clarity that they always could.

"She is our Liege and she serves us well as her vassals. You must understand this, Jewel. Because though he is all sweet words now, the High King would have claimed you without her intervention. Word was plain among the Gryphon riders of such when you first hatched."

But here? Where was the clarity? Where was the world Jewel had known?

Mother's voice was soft, gentle, tender. Trying to tell Jewel something soothing in tone.

Like when she explained how it was fine for the wheat to be cut so that they could make their bread.

"The Countess can do well by us and be just to our family while being a horrible fiend of a woman. The high king or your friend Thurzo can be sweet words now and just five years prior wanted to chain you like a beast and set you on every war and battle they could like a dog in hunts."

Jewel could not listen anymore, she was saying something, she was apologizing.

She was carefully opening the fragile little door and stumbling as carefully and gently as she possibly could out of that far too confined room.

Jewel had held in all of this weight till now, waited for the perfect and safe time to unburden herself and for her parents to make everything right in the world again.

But...

Their words had not made it better.

The world was even more muddled and confusing then it had been before.

And Jewel could not feel anything but distress as she finally finished extracting herself from the room, saying things she didn't even know what.

Fleeing like a craven coward from her own parents.

From their words.
From her own thoughts.

From the rising bawling cries of her smaller self who was left trapped in the room with them while she fled her parents and all the awful words they had buried her in.

Jewel caught sight of Smithson and briefly considered fleeing from him too.

But he was her trusted Squire, not old and wise like her parents, not supposed to know better then her.

But he would listen and speak with her anyway.

Smithson was her squire and trusted friend.

Finally Jewel found her voice uttering words that she could recall.

Brittle, wet with tears and worry.

"S-smithson, Squire, w-with me."

He was already rushing to follow her into the chill dark of the late autumn weather.

"Of course, Lady Jewel."

Jewel walked at a pace slow enough for him to keep up. But it took a long time into the dark before she found the words to even begin.

"C-could we talk a while Smithson?"

He was patient with her though, simply rubbing her foremost shoulder.

"Whatever you need."
Jewel could only choke on a laugh at the offer.

If only he could give it.

 

[roots lord]

Yeah, having realpolitik about vampire and personhood as her first encounter with complicated morality is rather harsh.
She put the countess in black and the high king in white only to learn that it doesn't work like that.

 

[Eclectic Fluff]

I took a break partway through reading on monday since it was getting so emotionally heavy, but now catching up that just made for more tension and all at once. This had to happen sooner or later, and I was impatient for Jewel to get past her naïvete, but I was not ready. The worst part is that this is just the beginning of her coming to appreciate how self interested most people are. Even Rochford′s seemingly altruistic governance is to the benefits of Jewel′s parents beyond simple kindness for the stability it confers. At the least, Jewel has a lot of weight to throw around for her desires of empathy and kindness towards all subjects being listened to. Though now that I think about it, that′s just fuel for more problems as I highly doubt she will know enough about politics or socioeconomics to not make mistakes with consequences by the time she is making herself heard.

 

[Calico J]

This chapter was tough. Although I have to be honest, after the chapters where she was going "Oh, look at the women and children playing hide-and-seek with our soldiers in the forest! Everybody is so happy we're here!" it's pretty nice to see her bubble of naivety getting punctured. Man, poor girl's going to have a horrible day when she thinks back to the campaign with less oblivious eyes.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.6

Jewel felt craven.

She had been avoiding her parents whenever possible. Not so much as to be inappropriate of course. She attended the meals to break fast and also the evening supper.

But every excuse or responsibility that could draw her away or distract her?

No one was at the work site for her manor house.

The vaults of most of the rooms had been raised and set with their proper arches. But until all of them were finished and the last touches of the peripheral chambers were done, there was little point to move into the space.

Yet Jewel was here to inspect after conferring once again that Adorján knew of no family that needed her aide this fall.

The children did not need seeing to, as all the women were either working on labors that could watch them or their small hands were needed to aid their elders. There was no concern of fuel for winter.

There was nothing for Jewel to be doing here.

But she came anyway to get away from the stinging pain she felt every time she saw her parents.

A familiar scent slid into Jewel's mouth.

She knew who was walking up the road wrapped in a winter cloak and riding leathers already but the scent confirmed it.

When they were close enough for a civil amount of volume Jewel voiced her surprise.

"Muriel? What are you doing in Valasect? The manor won't be ready until Harrow at earliest. And we will still be settling upon the guard who will join from Rochford til then?"

Jewel's soon to be captain of her footmen walked up to her lady, gesturing for Jewel to lower her head to listen closely.

Perplexed at the conspiratorial gesture when they were the only listeners of consequence for almost a quarter mile at closest! Still, the Wyrm lowered her head to listen. It must be important if-

The solid fist fist struck as hard as the martial woman could possibly manage directly into Jewel's ear.

Unbraced with her flame she might have been, but the pain was still mild. The thunderous deafening noise of it and the sheer audacious shock threw Jewel so off balance she toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash and a highly undignified warbling squawk.

The words that followed were bellowed harsher than Jewel had ever heard Murial speak. Not even when giving Alexander drills in sword or forcing him to run at march.

"You absolute knave of a girl! You fool-headed addle-wited oversized newt of a whelp!"

The words kept Jewel down in their viciousness and complete surprise.

Her wings flared awkwardly and neck clenched in tight curves, even while she found herself cowering into the dirt and mud that had been made of the land around her soon to be home.

"I had my doubts before but no, you truly are the very image of a spoiled girl precisely your own age!"

Jewel felt something strangely warm building in her flame at the words. It was spat with vitriol, literally spat right in Jewel's face. But a sudden closing of one of the ever mounting and painful barriers between Jewel and her family felt healed in spite of the sting and shame.

"You've set both your parents to a near panic, you know? Ever the dutiful and obedient daughter they have no idea what to do. They are beside themselves and terrified that you will never speak to them again."

Jewel found a tiny, frightened voice to argue.

"I have spoken to them."

Muriel, her captain to be, scowls down at Jewel and a very familiar tremor of fear her once Governess could instill fills Jewel.

"The barest minimum of courtesy twice a day at obligatory meals is not speaking, Jewel."

And to that Jewel could not deny, she had been craven, cowardly, and for no good reason.

The woman gave a sigh as she settled into a squat. Jewel could hear more than the leather creaking and straining from the motion.

"So yes, they are worried about you Jewel. They don't understand. They never imagined their perfect daughter could have a tantrum on them."

Jewel brought her head up a bit this time with the tightened curve in her neck. Pushed off a bit from the ground.

"It-it's not a Tantrum!"

Jewel's snarling face and vicious rumbling in her throat did not even phase the woman still squatting before her, glancing up with a raised brow.

"Girl, I have taught you and your brother since before he could walk. I know a tantrum when I see it. So what was it that finally broke the perfect shining wyrm of Viznove and let through the young lady just shy of fifteen winters at last?"

The tone was irreverent, but calm; it had become soft and gentle.

Patience settled in as the woman whose hair had far more gray then Jewel could remember from her own youth.

She was not even the slightest afraid of Jewel. She had been calm and collected as always even as a Wyrm easily six times her height in length, snarled and reared back.

The eyes that looked back at Jewel did not see a beast.

Just a tantruming girl.

A girl and a lady of fourteen summers.

Jewel for the second time in so many hours was brought to the ground by the woman before her.

Collapsing entirely.

There were tears in her eyes as she rumbled out, lacking the composure to gentle her throat.

"It's so stupid and cowardly."

Muriel for her part just nodded, shifting back to plant her ass in the cold dirt and then stretch out a leg to either side. Propping herself up with a hand to either side as she nodded. Jewel had never seen her Governess sit with so little grace or poise.

"It always is, but we all have these moments eventually. Now can you tell me what's upset you so much my Lady? Your squire is a noble and loyal one and has not shared a word."

Jewel huffed at that. But was also pleased enough to chuckle on hearing that Smithson had held to her confidence as he should.

That was a very good squire and friend.

But then Jewel marshaled herself and took the first step from cowardice to bravery.

It felt like dragging a lodestone hooked in spines from her own heart and out of her throat.

But the words came.
Slowly.

And Muriel Listened.

 

[Lonzo34]

Hell yeah Muriel, let's goooooo! I'm so happy to see that she is able to look past what Jewel appears to be, and has the nerve to go and punch a wyrm in the ear. Just, what a way to set the tone, right? 'I know you. This won't actually hurt, but it'll surprise the fire out of you and underscore just how serious I am.' (►__◄)
So very glad that someone will be able to help Jewel through some of her worldveiw shattering.
It's a good thing that Jewel will be keeping Muriel around in her staff, 'cause she needs as many people who can bring her down to earth as she can get. Metaphorically and, apparently, literally.
I just... she walks up to a fire breathing dragon, punches her in the face, and then asks the dragon (that she just punched) to elaborate on what's gotten her upset.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

I just... she walks up to a fire breathing dragon, punches her in the face, and then asks the dragon (that she just punched) to elaborate on what's gotten her upset.

Click to shrink...

It's easier to be brave when you've consoled said dragon when she was the size of a small dog about her terror regarding chickens.

 

[RoadrunnerJ]

Fair, chickens are small dinosaurs.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.7

Father did not meet Jewel's eyes, preferring to look down at his own palms.

Then finally, after what had felt like far too long in the too-tight quarters of her parent's bedroom, he spoke.

"Her husband, Count Ferenc Bathory, Black Knight of Viznove saved my life as a whelp of a Gryphon Rider in war. But it was the Countess Bathory who saved Rochford and our family."

Jewel listened, she wanted to rear back in shock. But her parent's room was simply too small for that.

But more than that, the tone in her Father's voice was brittle.

"There was a blight. The fields failed, not just the wheat but the barley, the peas, and the veches. All that grew in Rochford and the surrounding lands was fouled."

He sighed.

"It was only one year without harvest, but one year was enough, our granaries were empty come winter. And families were starving come Fallow Turn. I sent letters begging for aid from all our neighbors and allies of our house."

He shook his head.

"Fiebron offered enough to feed our household. But it was only the Countess who, in hearing of their plight, sent food enough to save the lives of the people. Bought and imported grain at ruinous cost for them."

He finally seemed to find the will to face Jewel, to meet her eyes with an intensity she often saw when he spoke to the footmen. She'd seen it during the war as well.

"She asked for not a haepenny of debt from me or anyone in Rochford. She'd have been within her right as my liege lady to do so. But she refused, even when I offered."

He sighed.

"Elizabeth is a spiteful woman, a dangerous one, but she is not overly cruel, she does not wish for suffering or pain on others. When she has set her course she will not heed those that she trods upon in her path. But she will not choose to do that-"

Mother interrupted with a tone that silenced Father sharply.

"Oh fool husband , do not lie to yourself or our daughter. The Lady Bathory would absolutely skin alive every man, woman and child in Rochford if she had the fancy for it. Do not dress up that fiend of a woman as what she is not. Her mercy back then was the same reason for her cruelties."

Jewel blinked slowly, she knew her Parents might quarrel, but she'd never actually been in the same room when they did. And honestly, this was not the fiercest her Mother could be behind closed doors.

But still, to actually see it with her own eyes?

Father gave off a groan.

"She is my liege and has ever sought out the wellbeing of Rochford with distinction and honor as is proper for her station and responsibilities to us."

Mother scoffed and bit out with that cutting tone.

"She bestowed your daughter with a betrothal to her son and has her declared heir! You can stop simpering and bowing to that fiend of a woman!"

Father whirled around with what Jewel could almost believe was fury. But then caught himself and took a deep breath to steady his wits.

"She has served us, protected us, since long before Jewel hatched, and supported every decision we've made regarding Jewel's care."

Mother heaved another breath and threw up her hands as she rose with all the fury that Father had restrained.

"Because as far as she is concerned, you, me and even Jewel are Hers. We are hers and that is the only thing that beastly woman cares about. That she keeps what is hers and that it serves her well."
Father's jaw clenches hard, the tone and the hint of the words were familiar.

Mother always supported father in court, they were always unified as a Wife and Husband should be.

But within their own rooms her mother had a fury that Jewel could only respect her father for standing unbowed against.

"She is my Liege, that is her Right. And she looks over us justly and with a care and stewardship well above what we are due from her."
Jewel did not know what to say. It did not feel right to be here, now, when her parents were not united. When they were here in private.

Suddenly, Mother's fury went out, she met Jewel's eyes and in doing so drew Father back to look as well.

"Johnathan, you fool of a man, your daughter is going to inherit every one of those rights, every one of those dues. But she is considering treason to the High King because she doubts he is just and good."

Father looked shocked, surprised, hurt and then rising from him in a wave of horror and fear Jewel never wanted to smell off him again he fixed his eyes on her.

"Daughter, is this true?"

Jewel was a dutiful daughter, she would not lie to her father.

So she answered.

"Of Course."

The look of surprise and pain on Father's face stung. But mother's words stung harder.

"She won't just be a simple baron, Johnathan. She is going to be the Countess, a Wyrm Countess! She is making bonds with The Heir to Arva!"

Jewel considered little Imre and his meaningless 'token' of protection from being eaten by herself.

"Her brother is certainly going to be high amongst the Gryphon Lords, maybe even like yourself First amongst them."

Alexander and his soon to be steed also welled up in her mind.

"You are all but inducting her into your brotherhood of Gryphon riders. Binding her with Fiebron and the other rider counts of the Ridgetail mountains."

Mother's words were a sharp hiss, but there was a fear there too.

"Fool Husband, what did you think was happening? If Jewel calls for war after she inherits?"

Father's fear was rising sharply and suddenly from a slight unease to the tension of imminent peril. Mother however continued, although she was growing quieter. Her scent spoke to the worry her own words were bringing up.

"If the Shining Wyrm of Viznove, an honorable friend to all the lands and hills of the Ridgetails calls for war? Of course they will follow."
Father turned to look at Jewel as if it was the first time he had ever seen his daughter.

Mother turned back to Jewel again as well with very tired eyes. Still speaking, but voice so quiet now.

"If such an exemplary character as her declares against the High King on grounds that he is unjust? They will flock to her."

The next words were practically a whisper.

"And it will tear the realm in half in the fighting."

Jewel could not stop herself from shuddering at the thought.

The entire realm at war?

But if the High King was not Just. Was that not right?

Yet all those soldiers.

All those lives that would be lost.

 

[Cecylene]

Jewel's mother sees that Jewel's reasoning from a point of Right and Good and Justice rather than Greed or Ambition would be the true fertile grounds that a war would start on. Because Jewel would only demand the High King step down, not be killed or exiled or tortured merely that as an Unjust and Dishonorable ruler that he be deposed for another to take his place, be that Jewel or any other.

And a war waged for something so reasonable is the most dangerous kind to men bound by oaths against their better judgement.

Everyone willing to take their grievance to the field of battle, everyone hoping to climb the ladder of chaos to follow, and everyone willing to trust in Jewel's honor and sense of Right and "true" Duty would flock to her side and the ones left supporting the high king are those with enemies, those best aided by the status quo, those seeing the chaos to come from such a sudden change as worse than the current situation, and those willing to remain loyal despite their own desires.

She is right, it would be an absolutely bloodbath across the entire realm of Cantor Reborn, and it's still likely that Jewel would survive it regardless.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.8

Jewel was fifteen winters old, she was to be married next year, and she already had a demesne of her own to look after.

By all accounts of responsibility and age she was practically an adult.
But she did not feel much like it.

The Footmen she and Muriel had chosen were already being settled into quarters in the Valasect manor, the only thing delaying her own arrival was the final work on her bathing room.

Smithson was so proud and puffed up that he was joining Jewel as her master of horse as well as her squire.

Although the wyrm herself did not need any of the beasts, Father was willing to give a few for the manor to spare for her men, guests and the occasional messenger from the Realm.

And there was of course Oxhoof, even if she was getting a bit long in years for a hackney.

The new lodgings would be good for her squire's training with Kroak. Although not far, it was still a full day's hard ride to reach Dewgrove from Fort Rochford. Time that took away from Smithson's other responsibilities and leisure.

With the new closeness, Jewel expected many more of the friendly spars between her Squire and Rochford's sole knight.

At least when either of them had time to spare.

Which right now they distinctly did not.

Jewel's daily hours had once been filled with studies and training with Muriel. Then in the last few years it was her own reading for simple pleasure and pass time between training her flight, prowess in combat and spinning thread or cloth as the season came.

But now Mother was taking up all of Jewel's time.

With the spinning done the days of reading, flying or the occasional melee with the men were suspended.

Because apparently Father was 'a fool of a man with a head empty of anything that did not involve fields, armies, archery or gryphons and cannot be trusted to prepare his daughter for her ascension to countess of Viznove'.

For all the sudden restriction upon her time, Jewel welcomed her mother's consul.

It was rather nice actually.

And it also gave them both an excuse to handle and coddle their 'daughters' while together.

Whenever Gwenn was not bothered by the confinement at least.

Ever more proof that Gem was definitely not a normal child.

She toddled about as unsurely as Jewel's sister, but she moved and behaved more or less exactly as Jewel wished her too. Well more she acted as Jewel did and so Jewel wished to be proper.

Even now, she had not found satisfaction in trying to convey it to her family or friends.

It was further complicated because while together, everything was simple.

But it all only held as long as Jewel was actually present.

When they were apart everything was considerably harder.

After a reunion, she could always recall what she had been thinking at the time in her smaller head. But even when she could recall every moment and see how she had been foolish, it was not helping much to improve how she acted in absence with herself.

Which was where Smithson came into the picture. Although without her wyrmself Jewel became confused and addled, she could still recognize Smithson. And he was always careful and gentle with her smaller self to not disabuse her of that opinion.

Not like the one wetnurse which sometimes scowled and ignored Gem when no one else was around.

So her Squire had taken on the unofficial role of minder for her 'child', which undoubtedly would get some terrible lashings from anyone hailing further north in Arva.
But it seemed to only bemuse or delight the people of Rochford and Valasect.

For all the frustrations Jewel had with the Wet Nurse she was quite friendly with Smithson and seemed thankful for his handling of Gem whenever Jewel could not manage self control.

Ugh, that whole matter was so confusing.

At least she thought she had some of the speech sorted out.

Jewel focused back to the lesson at hand.

Mother was waiting expectantly for her.

Mustering her memory to recall all that she had been told.

"First and most important of all, I am not to trust solely what I see, hear, smell or otherwise sense. Within court what is shown, what is said, what is even carried into the space with me is not the whole of the truth."

Mother nodded and offered a few additions.

"This is especially true now that it is widely known the extent to which you can hear. Your little trick in Kaeketeh is spoken of and warned widely in the courtly circles. You cannot depend on your ability of hearing things not meant for you anymore, daughter."
Jewel sighed but nodded. It felt deceitful, rude, improper and dishonorable to act as such. But her mother had supported Rochford in this side of courtly women's work since before she even hatched.

She would trust her mother in this as she had trusted her father in war.

Jewel continued.

"Second I should always strive to know the desires of others before they arrive before me in court, to listen to words and whisper well ahead of their coming. And never expect loyalty unless such are one with mine. "

That one tasted foul on her tongue; it had been the hardest lesson to accept from mother. It was far too much like how the Countess Bathory seemed to treat people.

Mother sighed and once again admonished Jewel's recollection.

"That one is only for those that have not proven loyalty. Your inner confidents that have proven trust and honor, that share bonds of blood or compact need not suffer such suspicions daughter."
Okay, Jewel had been a bit overly bitter on that lesson. A stranger unproven or yet uncertain perhaps was not due the full respect and trust she gave her brother or friends.

But that brought her to the next lesson. And one that stung the most.

"Third, when I am powerful and rich, false friends will flock like birds to the harvest gleaning. But when I am weak and in need do allies truly show their mettle."

Mother nodded, and thankfully she had no more to say on it. Jewel had gotten all four ears full on this topic.

Jewel had known Mother and Father were tense about her friendship with Thurzó. But it seemed like half of all the time that her mother sought to educate her was filled with thinly veiled warnings that the northern count of Arva was only her friend because she was powerful.

So went the evening until Mother was growing weary from the hour and Jewel struggled to keep Gem from passing out.

There was also of course the usual things they had once covered. The Courtesies, and how one could simultaneously insult and praise a knight, baron, count or even king. But more than these familiar skills there was also deeper knowledge.

Sharp and striking examples in regards to the histories.

Recent events that had befell Rochford, or Visnove.

The far flung gossip of the machinations regarding the other subject counties and territories of the High King's Realm.

Jewel had never realized the sheer density of word that passed by mouth and letter, gossiping and traveling across the roads on peddlers and messenger alike.

Mingling like pools of water in the courts of each baron, low king, count, duchess, abbot, and a seemingly endless deluge of other names of titles that might be both equal, lesser or greater then Jewel's own inherited rank of Countess.

By some alliances and pledges of fealty, Arva was over Viznove, even though the fields of farmland and mustering armies were almost a match between them.

All of that and the way that it colored the character of any conversation, any statement, any word or letter sent between lords or ladies within the realm?

She had to consider it all.

Jewel was supposedly an adult lady, to be housed in a demesne all her own.

She was going to be moving out from her rooms in Rochford to settle fully into the manor house come midsummer.

But in just a few seasons of lessons with her mother on the deeper nature of court and intrigue, she felt woefully unprepared.

Like she was still barely a child.

Jewel had to shake her smaller self awake, the sleepiness of the smaller body leaking addled dimness to her wit.

Which Mother took as a signal that they had been at their lessons long enough.

Morning, afternoon and evenings after supper were a long time to spend discussing so much.

But at the same time Jewel welcomed these chances to simply be with her mother.

To learn from her all that she could.

Before Jewel moved into her own house.

 

[Aabcehmu]

Moving away from your parents for the first time is always rough, especially if you're still just 15 years old.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.9

Jewel wobbled on her feet, but with care and tremendous effort she did not fall. She wanted to giggle, and as soon as the impulse arrived she produced warbling chirping sounds.

It was improper, and she soon mastered her laughter (mostly).

But this was a victory. She had managed to walk fully on her own across her room for the first time as her smaller self.

It was accomplished completely, if a bit unsteadily.

Her squire, so tall and comfortingly stable, was there next to her. He always was close when she made these attempts. And even a few days ago she had needed his shin to brace against with her hand.

Yet Jewel had strode clear across her bedroom and its many vast cushions without needing any aid at all!

"Excellent work, Gem! Good girl!"

The words were still confusing, but every day they struck clearer in her head. Fit better and meant more.

The truth of them staying longer even without the presence of her greater (proper) self and the touch of her wyrmfire.

But even when the precise memory of the words' purpose had eluded her, Jewel could always tell in his voice that Smithson meant well. And now she heard his encouragement and the joy he shared with her in her accomplishments in addition to the meaning.

And these victories mattered.
No matter how small or trivial they were for her true self.

'Gem' had spent a year unable to stand upright without her strength giving way.

She still could not quite bring the words together in her throat. Her mouth was far too short, her neck squeezed down to practically nothing.

Jewel had found, after much trial and error, that there simply were not the same parts to make sound in this throat.

She had learned all her life how to speak with something entirely different from what her lesser throat held.

Jewel was not even entirely certain that this neck and mouth could speak.

But she tried again anyway, producing a high-pitched, warbling cry that simply refused to meet together into actual words. Although at least her joy was evident.

Smithson nodded to her, squatting down so she could toddle back to him for a hug and the utterly exhilarating sweep as he lifted her up and spun her around.

It was not really anything like flying.

Jewel thought in some ways it was even better!

One of the very few joys she alone could feel and then share with her greater self. To be lifted, to be carried, to be swung around by a force utterly and entirely not her own?

When she flew, when she rose on the buoy of her wyrmflame, there was an assurance. Jewel was always the one who imparted it.

But whenever Smithson or any of the other adults handled her Jewel was entirely at their mercy. With the nurse maid or any of the staff this was utterly terrifying. Filling her mind with muddled terror of the great boar and how it had tossed and trampled her.

But with Smithson, Father or even Mother she knew that she would be safe. And that safety and assurance turned the completely uncontrolled whirling into a tremendously exciting delight.

Finally, her Squire set her back down and Jewel made a brief attempt to step again, but her head was suddenly quite a bit more addled than normal and nothing was up right properly.

Before she could even take her first step, she had started to fall!

But ever the perfect gentleman and Squire, Smithson was there for her, holding her shoulders and giving her something to brace against while the room slowly stopped tumbling and whirling.

She tried again to speak to him, to give thanks.

But all she could manage was the tone and gurgling.

Yet even there he was just so perfect, nodding to her despite the utterly mangled attempt at speech.

"You are very welcome, Lady Gem. Ready to try again?"
One of the staff came into the room and it startled her enough that she was suddenly frozen from walking for fear of the shame in front of a stranger.

Jewel felt uncomfortable itches in her head that she should recognize this person but could not without the presence of her greater self and the clearer memory to say for sure.

Her smaller eyes had only gained the clarity to discern faces across the room a short while ago.

But at the same time, the ages of time since she had so mastered her eyes also seemed an eternity.

Yet another mind-addling part of her situation.

Smithson and the staff member spoke rapidly, with a muddling tone that Jewel could not properly break apart.

All too deep and overlapping. Not clear and sharp like the tone Smithson, Her parents or even the spiteful nursemaid took when speaking to Jewel or her sister.

It was so frustrating, and as soon as she began to think it, Jewel felt tears were already welling at her eyes, a tightness building in her chest and throat. She had even the start of a keening in her untamable throat building to overwhelm her.

All rising in a sudden uncontrollable torrent.

It was just not fair!

Why did Jewel have to be maimed like this!

Why was she like this!

Why could she barely understand what her greater self heard as normal speech instead of the senseless infantilizing kinder talk meant for babies!

Why did she have to know how inadequate she was?!

Why wasn't Jewel just a normal daughter like her sister was to her mother?!

It was all too much and soon she was shuddering and sobbing and horrible sticky ooze was coming out of her nose and her vision was even worse for all the tears flooding from her eyes.

But Smithson was there and holding her and giving her something to chew on and rocking her.

When had he picked her up?

Jewel was not sure but the stranger was gone and now she was rocking and everything was getting fuzzy and she was getting rather full and it had been a very arduous day despite the length (barely a few hours awake).

She wanted to struggle and yell at the injustice of it. Jewel was a Lady, she was a Wyrm.

She should be able to stay up longer!

But as her wonderful squire rocked her and spoke soft soothing words and even sang a gentle song Jewel soon calmed from her wroth.

And then after that she drifted swiftly into sleep.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.i

Between man and those beasts untouched by the nodens of the divine, there is this essential difference, that the latter, moved by sense alone, adapts himself only to that which is present in place and time, having very little cognizance of the past or the future.

The divinely-touched, on the other hand — because he is possessed of reason, by which he discerns consequences, sees the causes of things, understands the rise and progress of events, compares similar objects, and connects and associates the future with the present — easily takes into view the whole course of life, and provides things necessary for it.

And in further contrast among those beasts blessed with divine reasoning, even that man distinguishes himself.

By his nature and his virtue of reason, man is drawn into relations of mutual intercourse and society with his fellow men.

For a man has a special love for his children; a drive in him to promote and attend social gatherings and public assemblies and the desire to provide what may suffice for the support and nourishment, not of himself alone, but of his wife, his children, and others whom he holds dear and is bound to protect.

This care rouses men's minds, and makes them more efficient in action.

The research and investigation of truth are a property of divinely-touched whether beast or man. Thus, when we are free from necessary occupations, we want to see, or hear, or learn something, and regard the knowledge of things either secret or wonderful as essential to our living happily and well.

To this desire for seeing the truth is annexed a certain craving for precedence, insomuch that the man well endowed by nature is willing to render obedience to no one, unless to a preceptor, or a teacher, or one who holds a just and legitimate sway for the general good.

Hence are derived greatness of mind and contempt for the vicissitudes of human fortune.

Nor does it indicate any feeble force of nature and of reason, that are providence of divinity alone and a gifted to beast and man a sense of order, and decency, and moderation in action and in speech.

Thus no base animal feels the beauty, elegance, or symmetry, of the things that he sees; while by nature and reason, man, transferring these qualities from the eyes to the mind, considers that much more, even, are beauty, consistency, and order to be preserved in purposes and acts, and takes heed that he do nothing indecorous or effeminate, and still more, that in all his thoughts and deeds he neither do nor think anything lascivious.

From these elements the right, which is the object of our inquiry, is composed and created; and this, even if it be not ennobled in title, yet is honorable, and even if no one praise it, we truly pronounce it in its very nature worthy of all praise.

-Letters on Duty by Marcus Tulius Tritico of Cantor

 

[Nighzmarquls]

3.ii

When the ewes come back from their pasture, especially in summer time from Hay to Threshing turn, the shepherd should not put them or make them go immediately into the fold. Rather, he should lead them the whole way at great leisure and should give them shade and let them cool off under an elm or linden or other spacious tree, if there are any near the stable or sheepfold. If none exist, he should find another means and convenient way for the relief of his animals, to relieve their heat.

The good remedy for the animals' heat is to muck out and clean the stable and remove the manure, to cool the animals' heat and keep them refreshed. And if, with the approach of dinnertime toward noon, the sun should cast its rays in the door of the sheepfold, the shepherd should close the door and provide fresh cool water to scatter and throw in the door's entry and throughout the stable to refresh and cool it to give moderation of the heat to the ewes, who by nature have a warm and dry constitution, wherefore heat is harmful and adverse.

-Old Jean of Brie, a Shepherd of the Free Men's Lands.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

4.1

Having her own home felt different.

The halls were all made to suit her size, and in that respect they resembled the Eyrie in its proportions. The workers laying the stones had muttered and complained how every hall of the manor was wide and tall enough to race horses through.

The sheer space of it meant the manor and its solid stones would also make for a good keep in case of siege, although it lacked the tall defensible walls and courtyards of Rochford.

Besides the passages, bedchamber, study/weaving room, bathing room, kitchen, cellars and feasting hall sized to Jewel's comfort, there had also been twenty smaller chambers made to house staff and guests.

Although by any sensible reckoning it was only equipped with the two floors, Jewel's manor resembled one sprawling with four floors. That however was only because Jewel's bedchambers, study and bathing room were set higher by the necessity of the hillside the manor had been built into.

Meanwhile the feasting hall, kitchens, staff and guest chambers were settled further down the hill, with the cellars and well under them.

All told, the manor had almost the same scale of interiors as two of the wings of Rochford's keep.

And standing in it now, it seemed a wonder that so much could have been made in only three years.

Even with the hands of almost half of Rochford involved in its construction.

And Jewel had filled it with her 'staff and household'. With room to spare for the eventual inclusion of her betrothed and his own staff.

Muriel had a room to herself and would be sleeping there even after the barracks and stables were completed in the coming years.

As did Smithson, her Squire, Master of Horse and eventual knight.

Then there was Hożanka's third son Dariusz.

He had taken up her offer as master over her kitchen and the cooking staff as a freeman. He'd joined the household with his wife Eryka who was now taking up a position with him on the staff seeing to the cleaning and upkeep of the manor.

Jewel, via 'Gem', was also becoming acquainted with their four children.

The younger three, Jewel was still struggling with the names - 'Gem' mostly thought of them as the smaller one, the just-her-size one and the bit-taller one.

The eldest of them at thirteen winters was Cibor.

He already labored well in the kitchen with his Father and Mother, but seemed ill at ease around 'Gem'.

But it was not like he was required to interact with her overmuch.

Jewel had her squire for that.

Smithson had gotten the less than flattering cognomen of the 'nurse knight' amongst the village already for his doting on 'Gem', but Jewel heard a fondness in their tone. And she appreciated the service he offered her in calming the erratic tumult of her smaller self's emotions too much to ask him to stop.

It's not as if Jewel's own unofficial title of 'the kinder-gaurd-dragon' was much better. At least Adorján thought it was suitable that the both of them made a pair like that - and it apparently was easing the tension and fear she had brought with her assumption of the demesne as lady over Valasect

She probably should introduce her 'daughter' to the children of the village when she was next called to watch them.

After that, staff were two girls who once worked the Rochford Kitchens and then?

Well, there was only so much staff Jewel could in good conscience take from Rochford, and although they had tried, Adorján had yet to find anyone willing to take up residence in the manor itself when their family home was just down the road in Valasect.

Jewel had not yet even found anyone to lead the staff in her manor, or see to the arrangements of which peasants would spend their obligation of service to her in cleaning and upkeep rather than to toil in the fields.

Perhaps now that she was settled in, the offer of hot water for baths scented in lavender might entice more?

It was yet difficult to speak directly with anyone in Valasect in person save Adorján. Nevermind the still-lingering trepidation and fear - Jewel was yet having to see to the settling of all her affairs and stewardship.

The procurement of firewood (and for more than just her own bathing).

And seeing that the stores of grain, meat, cheese, honey and other food were maintained and filled to Dariusz and his far more critical wife's specifications.

And the tracking and accounting of pay and obligation towards the one freeman, two free women and one squire of what Jewel was finding to be very dubious and hard-to-settle status regarding accounting.

And the assurance that her shares of harvest would either be put to her granary or otherwise stored as-is or arranged for sale (usually to her father or sir Kroak so far) for spending silver.

And That the accounting of that silver was properly parceled into a correct and separate coffer just in case she wished or needed to spend a tithe to her father (and from him the Countess Bathory) for the next two years to hold off on an obligation for war.

And that was just the stewardship and accounting for her manor!

Jewel's demesne then had its own concerns, such as the inevitable shearing of wool when the shepherds came down from the high pastures with their veritable floods of wooly sheep.

Rochford's immediate demesne had their own sheep, but Valasect's place on a gentler incline made it the preferred place for the long absent highland Shepherds to have their winter homes.

Apparently this was in fact where most of the cheese that sat in Father's reserve was actually made.

And where a good portion of the wool Jewel had been spinning came from.

As a town, Valasect could double in the number of men and women living within it over winter. And absolutely fill to bursting with the sheep folds besides.

And all of that was now Jewel's responsibility!

It was all utterly crowding into every waking hour of the day! And Jewel was obligated to see to all of it!

Thus, Smithson was a star-sent blessing! Even with his 'duty' to seeing to 'Gem' and her care, Jewel's squire assisted her in any way he could. Mostly speaking to the people in the village on her behalf. Trying to find those of the character and means to fill out the roles that Jewel had not yet found for herself, and ferrying messages.

He was taking to all the new responsibility in her service with the same steadfast dedication he had once set the buckles of her harness or unwrapped her rations on the road.

Which was why it was rather disturbing to see him entering her study like the Marzanna herself had descended from the black sky of winter to curse him personally.

Jewel looked over to her pale, haunted squire with some concern.

"Smithson... are you alright?"

The boy, who really was much more of a man by this point, looked disconcertingly like Jewel had felt after the war. Shocked and not all together in command of himself.

Shaken loose of his foundations in the world he knew.

It was a disquieting thing to see in her normally bright and dutiful squire.

"I don't think I am, Lady Jewel."

The worry bloomed into genuine fear and concern as Jewel moved to check her friend for injuries, but his leather maile was freshly shined, not a drop of blood was on him and even when she patted him down there was no reflexive winces of bruises or broken bones.

But even with her fussing over him like he did 'Gem', Smithson did not fully break from that shocked stare ahead of him.

Her concern bled into her voice.

"Smithson, my squire, my friend, please tell me what happened?"

He finally broke from vacant shock and looked up at her, and there were tears in his eyes, barely holding back and the thought that this boy was more properly a man fell away like water.

Yes, he had a scruff of beard to his chin and was no longer soft-faced like a child.

But those haunted eyes were every bit the stable boy that had attended her most of her life.

"I'm sorry, my Lady..."

Jewel hushed him.

"Smithson, whatever it is, please just tell me. I swear I will keep it in confidence. But you have to tell me what happened to see you in this state."

He hiccuped and nodded, struggling with himself to even admit whatever horrible thing had occurred.

But when he finally mustered the words Jewel was left utterly stunned.

"I lost an argument with a cow."

 

[Rayne-of-Faerie]

Being from Texas I can confirm most vehemently, it is not a shame to lose an argument with a cow. One must simply see where they went wrong, find ways to ensure it doesn't happen again, and lastly give thanks if you werent put on your backside or trampled or worse.

 

[roots lord]

Someone bulled over thinking they could cow everyone. He souldn't have done things by calves.
As long as he hasn't uddermined his autority, he can just ruminate on it.

 

[Nighzmarquls]

4.2

There was apparently a talking cow in Valasect;. And no one thought this was worth mentioning to Her! The cow's name was Bethica and she was in the care of a family on the opposite end of the demesne from Jewel's manor house.

According to Adorján no one had thought it was unusual enough to mention, and yet their mentions managed to escape all of Jewel's explorations of her family library. Apparently there had been talking cows in a small herd there since he was a boy. He in fact only found it a bit strange and wistful that there was only one talking cow now.

The children Jewel kept watch on had not mentioned it because they personally found 'betsy' rather dull and boring. Apparently her preferred stories went overlong and everyone had heard them all already. But she'd been there the whole time, keeping to herself and occasionally singing songs to the villagers who chose to listen when the weather was good.

"Would the folk of Rochford fail to make note of myself to those strangers who passed by as well?" She had wondered aloud, amused by the thought.

Actually, now that Jewel thought of it? She was pretty sure they were delighted by not warning strangers about her.

So, too, was it with Bethica, apparently! Thus, she found herself on the way to the fields to see for herself.As the wyrm and lady of Valasect approached the pastures, the supposedly talking cow entered her view.

To be honest, there was not much to distinguish Bethica from any other Cow. And Jewel had seen a few. Soulful black eyes watched the wyrm come nearer with the wariness of most animals. But not so wary that she stopped chewing in slow grinding strokes of her jaw.

Jewel took a deep breath of the air. But all she smelled was cow and grass. No hint of a working or fauxfire that she could determine, either.

Jewel considered the cow, then looked side to side, but there were no others apparent in the pasture. She couldn't smell any sign of another one either.

Just the one cow.

And this should be the correct house.

Well, when in doubt it was best to be polite.

"Excuse me, but are you Bethica of Valasect?"

The cow (Bethica?) turned her head to fix Jewel with her left eye before the beast nodded her head in answer. Then settled down to simply chew, looking not much at anything.

Mashing something wet and sticky in between her teeth.

It smelled like grass as to be expected, but aged in the way that all cows smelled. As the silence continued eventually 'Bethica' turned so that once again it was looking at her one eye'd.

It was somewhat like Tsugotholan honestly.
Having given what seemed like plenty of time for a response, Jewel nodded but did not bow, she was the lady of this land and this Bethica was a beast upon it.

"I am, if you did not know, Lady Jewel of the houses of Rochford and Bathory, Lady of Valasect, Heir to Viznove. And I must apologize for not speaking to you sooner."

The cow shifted her weight from one foreleg to the next and lowered her head in what might have been a bow. Although it almost looked like she was just looking for better grass. Then after raising her head she turned to fix Jewel again with her left eye and to get a good look up and down Jewel.

The deep black eye lingering on her claws, her teeth and then finally on Jewel's own eyes before turning and checking with the other eye and then giving a sudden head twist.

Presumably because a fly had been buzzing around her ear.

"I must admit I am very curious, you seem to have left my Squire quite unmanned with your wit. Was that entirely necessary?"

There was a low mewling groan of a rumble from (presumably) Bethica. It didn't sound very much different from any other cow Jewel had heard. Although it may have rumbled and rolled in a way that was a bit more like laughter then she thought she'd ever heard from such animals before.

Jewel considered the cow and again looked around before settling herself down in the dirt of the road. Crossing her forearms over each other and tucking her hind claws close in under her body.

She very much hoped this was not a jape by her peasants or some poor trick performed on Smithson.

Jewel had a great deal of work yet to do, but she was leaving that to sit by being here.

"You can speak right?"

The cow raised her head to fix Jewel with that same judgemental left eye. Then groaned heavily and swallowed very hard whatever she had been working over in her jaws.

Once her mouth was free she gave a soft cough to clear her throat.

"Pardon your ladyship, but my mother taught me not to speak with my mouth full. Did yours not tell you it was rude to interrupt someone in their meal?"

Even braced for it Jewel felt shocked as Bethica spoke in a tone and accent that sounded far more noble and elegant then the wyrm had expected. It had an oddly flowing manner that struck harshly on some of the sounds, but not unpleasantly so.

Voice deep and strong but despite it no less feminine. It was a fascinating sound
So different from how Jewel attempted to shape her own voice.

Jewel thought she was prepared for it; she thought she had believed Adorján and trusted his judgment as the headman of her demesne.

She had been so sure she was ready to accept that a cow could talk.

But Bethica still left a stunning surprise in Jewel that, while not quite enough to make her neck want to rear back in a tight curve, still gave a pause. Which was apparently enough for Bethica to decide it was time to continue speaking.

"Ah, yes, you would be the new lady of the land. I suppose you never had the opportunity to make the mistake before? Every meal is a festival for you. All proper announced personages before and the like?"

Jewel boggled a moment more at the thought that others wouldn't have their meals planned and their arrivals announced. But then again was that not what she had just done?

And her Mother and Father had taught her better than that!

"Oh! Oh no, I'm terribly sorry Bethica of Valasect, my mother has in fact taught me better than that. But-"

Bethica made a rumbling chuckle.

"Oh stars and elysium's meadows girl, Don't fret so. I understand the surprise. I am a cow, after all."

Jewel thought of all the times that some one had been shocked that she could speak and treated her like a beast. The very thought she had done the same despite being warned beforehand sat wrong in her belly. Pushing the words past her lips with a rush.

"No, I should have known better twice over. I deeply apologize to you, good heifer Bethica of the fine fields of Valasect."

Bethica, for her part, was now speaking with definite laughter in her voice and making an odd concerted effort to watch Jewel with her right eye instead of the left. There was even a bit of a smile to her lips.

"Well, you certainly are a sweeter and gentler child than I expected. But don't paint me up as what I'm not. I've not been a heifer since I was four winters old! But it is very kind of you to suggest I look so young."

Jewel found herself still speaking in a rush at her shame for having done precisely what she often lamented others put her through.

"No, I truly should have known better, to expect a beast of you in the first place? Every time I meet a stranger they always see little else in me."

It would seem that it was Bethica's turn to be speechless, and then she shifted around to more comfortably fix Jewel with her right eye. Looking over her face, meeting her eyes with the one soulful near-black one.

There were hints and shapes just barely visible in that dark orb. Just barely visible behind the glare of blue sky and sparse clouds.

Then she swung her head back around to look Jewel over again with her left one.

"Well how fancy that is, I'll be a heifer in my soul this afternoon that the stars and fields saw fit to give me a new sight at the end of my life's summer. You do know better! Don't you?"

Jewel stared at the beast, no, the person before her, the unexpected and delighted kindred spirit found of all places simply standing in a field.

The moment suddenly seemed heavy with portents that she should find such in her own demesne.

Bethica for her part shook up and down, skin trembling and a deep and heavy breath bellowing from her snout.

"Well, far be it for me to give less than my best for a sister in kind to the foolishness of ver, I am Bethica, Daughter of Belora who was daughter of Orthica, who was daughter of-"

And it went on from that for quite a time. That while Jewel was somewhat astounded at the depth of her pedigree (Bethica's line went back more than a dozen generations), it was deeply welcome.

 

[Cecylene]

"Well, far be it for me to give less than my best for a sister in kind to the foolishness of ver, I am Bethica, Daughter of Belora who was daughter of Orthica, who was daughter of-"

And it went on from that for quite a time. That while Jewel was somewhat astounded at the depth of her pedigree (Bethica's line went back more than a dozen generations), it was deeply welcome.

Click to shrink...

If Bethica is talking about the normal dairy cow generations, she's recounting more than 60 years of pedigree at least. If Valasect generations are a bit longer to prove out the cows due to lacking modern techniques, she could very well be calling back almost a century.

 

[Rayne-of-Faerie]

Omfg somehow I did not expect he meant a literal argument with an actual cow lmao

 

[Nighzmarquls]

Omfg somehow I did not expect he meant a literal argument with an actual cow lmao

Click to shrink...

I feel like the severity of his reaction was appropriate no?

 

[Nighzmarquls]

4.3

At that first meeting Jewel and Bethica spoke well into the late afternoon, until her new friend had to beg off because she really needed to continue chewing her day's grass.

Apparently for cows there was an inordinate amount of chewing, swallowing, spitting up what had been chewed, chewing it again and then adding more grass to the whole endeavor.

Really, Bethica had almost a full day's labor in life simply occupied with grazing to fill her belly and managing the rest.

It put Jewel's own workload into a very different perspective.

At least a meal only took most of an hour at worst.

Poor Bethica spent nearly an entire day simply eating.

But she was pleased to talk with Jewel.

And that had carried through to the next day.

And the days after that well into the summer haying season, becoming a routine as surely as all the other discussions and council she needed.

So she started the morning with a wonderful breakfast of porridge for one of her bellies. 'Gem' still needed some assistance from Smithson despite Jewel's best efforts of coordination.

And porridge still did not settle well in her comparatively tiny stomach.

But it also gave her an excuse to break fast with her squire.

After that was her exercise, and if it was the fourth day since her last trip, she returned to Rochford that morning to see her parents.

On the other three days, Jewel did her necessary obligations of work for the manor and demesne's management. Checked in with her headman, Smithson and Dariusz for those tasks she had for them.

Then in the late afternoon she made her way over to Bethica's little plot where her friend was mostly done chewing and pulling up fresh fodder and instead had settled in the sun to let her insides work their own sorcery.

In hindsight, Jewel probably should have long ago judged there was something special about the cow who was standing all on her own without a fence or tether in one corner of Valasect. But the presence of beasts in the fields had grown so completely normal she had ignored the oddity like she did the subtle little nuances of the other animals.

As was their custom, Jewel waited to be welcomed before speaking. Her friend did not have a court or a crier, but Jewel insisted they did things properly.

So she always waited until the cow acknowledged her.

Something Jewel could smell brought Bethica unspoken relief and joy. A Courtesy that as far as she was concerned was very well deserved indeed!

Bethica was incredibly learned! She had no knowledge of reading, but when offered to be taught, the cow quietly admitted she "finds letters very frustrating to discern one from the other." Jewel had confirmed it even with wide sweeping symbols dragged in the dirt of the road. (But not the grass - Bethica had admonished her terribly for ruining good clover).

Yet despite her illiteracy, Bethica held deep knowledge. Going back all the way to the old Sun Land's Republic before it had been named Cantor!

And all of it having been passed down from mothers to daughters and sons. According to Bethica 'in the distant past of long generations ago' it once was also fathers who taught it to their children.

So Jewel gave her friend the respect due for such a sage.

And today, after a few moments had passed her friend bellowed over to the road.

"Alright, your Ladyship! Stop staring! I'm full up and tumbling the fodder in my belly, Oh fussing nurse of a snake! Get over here so I don't have to yell! I've heard a mighty curious things in the yattering among the vir."

Jewel nodded in acknowledgement and made her way over.

"Welcome to you, Bethica, daughter of Belora, granddaughter of Orthica. What gossip have you heard?"

Jewel had committed the full list of Bethica's genealogy to memory. But even the proud bovine accepted only the first two generations were needed for respect when nothing too officious was warranted.

"I heard that this Threshing Turn you are to be having a wedding?! Lady Jewel I did not know you were even betrothed!"

Jewel laughed and shook her head.

"Oh Bethica! I am so sorry! I forgot to tell you, but yes I am indeed betrothed, after the wedding my husband will be joining me in the Manor. Honestly, it's why I've been pulled in every direction trying to settle things! Have it prepared before he comes in with all of his own staff and household."

"Oh! Well that sounds fine. No worry, I suppose. The vir do make such a fuss over it too. Then I shall be meeting what you take as a handsome flying serpent? Tell me about his horns!"

Jewel froze in surprise, Her friend thought that Jewel was to be wed to a dragon?! But then again, the only news that Bethica heard were what her human family told her and what gossip was passed along the road by her fields.

Bethica had not even known they had been at war with the realm.

"Oh! I'm sorry! No, no my betrothed is a man, a vir, like Smithson. The youngest child of Countess Bathory. I've never even seen another wyrm, let alone been able to meet one."

And as sometimes happened it was Bethica's turn to be in a bit of a place of shock at something Jewel said.

She even spat up some of her still 'too fresh' grass into her mouth and started chewing in her befuddlement.

Jewel was patient with her newest friend and politely waited for the cow to swallow her meal again.

Finally the words came, thoughtful but also softly crooning.

"But... you've spoken much and highly of your mother?"

Jewel felt something clench inside and she shook her head at the misunderstanding.

"Mother and Father are likewise a woman and man respectively. As is my brother, a young man, my sister, an infant girl. My family are much like those that care for you here in Valasect. My egg was in their care for centuries. Laid by the Tyrant Wyrm herself."
Bethica breathed softly with a different tone, in words Jewel had read but never heard spoken.

"The Dracorexter itself? As my mother spoke and hers before her and-"

Jewel gave Bethica a look and the cow huffed and groaned much as those of her kin without the gift of speech did. She found it frustrating whenever Jewel interrupted her ancestral chant.

"And so on, though I suppose Dracorextrix is more correct given the egg. Truly you are more esteemed in your heritage then even I, young Lady of Valasect. But to never have known her words? To grow as a child raised by the vir?"

The cow shuddered and shook her head.

"To have none of her words, deaf to her songs, her great heritage unknown to you?"

There was an anguish to her voice that Jewel was honestly a bit shocked by.

"In the fields of elysium, I am sure she has cried for your loss of her. As my mother's mother and all of theirs before them weep yet for my future."

Jewel ruffled her wings, not at all comfortable at the implication that her egg layer could be construed as anything like a mother.

But was that not the point? Technically she was. Then again her elder sibling by that clutch lived as a rat.

Jewel offered her friend soft words.

"I'm not sure, but I think it is different for dragons. A sister by blood of mine hatched before me, yet she did so among rats and yet lives to this day much as one, or so I am told."

Bethica tossed her head and there was a groan of dismay at that. But Jewel continued with soft but firm words.

"My only mother is the one who raised me from the day I hatched and she sang songs to me as I grew. My only Father is the lord of Rochford that trained me for war and leadership. Whoever laid my egg was long gone before either of them. That is no mother."

The cow hummed deep and resonant then nodded and fixed Jewel with her 'family eye" (the right one).

"That is true and it is wise, a Mother is the one who teaches you your story and weaves yours with hers in the telling. Would be I found a calf of one of the muffle minded who could carry my words to his or her offspring I'd gladly call them my child, give them my milk and feed them with my wisdom as any son or daughter I bore myself."

Satisfied with that Bethica nodded, then gave a deep groan of frustration.

"Not that I will have any to give the old tales too by my own blood or another's, my family is cursed. All of us are now gone to the last fields but I."

Jewel blinked.

"Cursed? What do you mean Bethica."

An uncharacteristically sour glare settled on the dragon and an equally bitter tone followed.

"You might notice there are not a great many cows that speak Lady Jewel. I've birthed five calves, all have been dull minded as any other here."

Jewel could only stare, so Bethica continued.

"My Mother even took on my mute but clever brother as a sire as we sometimes have had too in the past. All to try and kindle the words in even one more child. But she died passing her twelfth, also mute calf and left me alone to carry her words."

Bethica stared down at the grass and the dirt. Stinking of hurt and pain.

"I tried with my brother too, and every other bull that would have me in Valasect each year since I could. But four calves that lived and all of them mute and mind muddled was the fruit of it. I loved and nursed every one of them properly of course but none could carry the words. Nor see or think more than usual."

The anguish that had risen when Jewel admitted to not being betrothed to a Wyrm had risen up in Bethica's voice as she spoke.

Creaking into her tone as if to break but instead the cow sighed heavily. Voice going soft and empty where before it had been near bursting with pain.

"I am at the end of my life's summer, Lady Jewel. At best only two more calves will I bear and cursed with muddled minds mute they will certainly be. All the words given me by my mother and all the other mothers before her will fall silent with me."

She smelled of old fear and an exhaustion that had nothing to do with the weariness of muscle.

Jewel stared.

Bethica cried, tears running down her cheeks and Jewel could smell how much more she was hurting.

It was the first time she had ever heard Bethica so anguished.

Not knowing what else to do Jewel walked up to her newest friend and gently rested her chin on her shoulder.

For the rest of the afternoon they were silent together.

But Jewel considered.

Surely she could make this right.

 

[Lonzo34]

Well, at the very least, Jewel could have Bethica's words put to velum. Even if they fall silent, they shan't fall forgotten.

She also has quite a wide network through her freindship with the Weirds. I wonder if it would be possible to find a speaking bull and get the two to meet; surely the offspring of two who can carry the words would be more likely to be capable of carrying them further?