Kapitel 3: 03: A Slight Insight
Pants soaked the air as a boyish preteen girl moved the blade in her hands. It clipped through the air, movements becoming smoother and more precise with each movement. She moved from that downward strike and into a block, bracing herself as her booted right foot shifted the gravel beneath her feet.
After a few more repositions, she dragged over a training dummy, uncaring of the gazes that rested upon her. Rooting it into the ground by the wooden spoked attached, she unsheathed her blade again. The old steel was somewhat battered and marked, but it glistened in the light. A sturdy blade.
Just as she made to start practicing with the dummy, she was interrupted by a womanly voice.
"Lo-Lo."
The girl blushed as red as her ichor pigmented hair, the flush spreading from cheek to brow. She scowled impertinently. "Mother. I was training."
Her mother grinned, lightly tanned skin stretching with the viciousness of it. At her hip was a small boy who clung gentle to the hem of her sleeve. "Ah, but wouldn't you like a more challenging opponent?" she said.
"What do you mean by that?" replied the girl, lips pursed.
She gestured to gravel field, the squat building beside it and the half dozen dilapidated training dummies that had already been hefted off the field. Beside the destroyed dummies were two equally destroyed wooden swords, one cracked where the blade met the hilt and the other having a blade broken into splinters from the sheer force of blows.
"Isn't this too meek for you? Aren't you ready for something better?"
Steadily, the girl's gaze remained on her mother, met her mother's same dark gaze. In spite of herself, she remained silent.
"Lo?" Said the boy, at some point having left his mother's side. He pointed at the sword. "Can I try that?"
At the words of the younger child, the girl jerked back, quickly and carefully sheathing the blade. "No, Cass. You're too little."
"But I'm already six! You did the training when you're as old as me!"
Wincing at the way he spoke, she shook her head. "Until you can say it properly, the answer's no Cass." She placed her hand on her hip, sparing a glance to her mother. Her mother who, alike to her, had a sword and scabbered at her waist, always ready.
"Fine," the boy muttered, glomping her.
Hugging him back, her gaze remained steady on the older woman.
She smiled primly, somewhat pinched. "The tournament in Iasin is on three months, Lore. You have until then."
Lore lifted Cassion into her arms, holding him tight as she began to walk away. She glared outwardly, at the sun, the broken wood swords, at the barracks, at the reflection of her mother in the barracks' one foggy glass window. "Yeah, yeah. I'll figure it out."
Soon as she was gone, Marina spoke to herself. "You'd best, sweet child. You're meant for great things, and I'm much too strong for you yet."
Mirroring the actions of Lore, Marina stepped away.
In a different time, in a different place, a sister murmured into the chest of a brother.
"Cassion."
"You needn't speak Lore. I know you're missing Addicus, I know you're debuting soon, I know of the pressures upon you." Fingertips gently traced Lore's cheek. "Let yourself relax in the arms of your brother."
"Cassion. I need to tell you something."
She felt him tilt his head. "Did Lady Mandelbaum send you one of her ridiculous letters again? I'll talk to her, Lo, don't worry."
Lore ripped her face from his arms, a glare set strongly in her gaze. She pulled back slightly, words coming out with the wobble of a hiss. "Listen, Cassion. Addicus is dead, yes. I'm debuting soon, yes. I'm pressured, Lady Mandelbaum is being a bother—all of these things are correct. But they're not what I want to tell you." A shuddering inhalation sharply escaped her. "Addicus left me with child. For all the struggles, this is the one you know least of all, and the most important."
Cassion blinked at her, seemingly in shock. Then, his eyes slowly began to widen, his lips began to part as his grip slackened. Lore slipped away and covered her ears, wincing in advance to–
"YOU'RE PREGNANT!?"
"Yes Cassion," Lore remarked with dry sarcasm, "that's something that happens when you're married. Unless you're the late Duchess Montagne. Or if you're a couple of pansies."
"Lore. That's not what's important. Andonis–"
Lore shushed him. "Not here, Cass."
She gripped his wrist firmly, dragging him swiftly out of the dining hall and into a sitting room, the heavy wooden door of which would help prevent sound from escaping. This was the crying parlor of Bonaventura widows, the cushions bleak in color and covered in a thick film of dust. Without a word, Lore closed the door and set the door jam in place.
A shuddering sigh whispered out of her. "You can speak."
Her brother gazed heavily at her, deep blue eyes half lidded with the weight of their burden. "You remember Maive the Badger?"
"Yes. She was the only daughter of the Duke of Bosco, and a foreign Prince took a fancy to her. She was handsome but had two unfortunate front teeth." Lore paused, eyes flicking back and forth in time with hee thoughts. Those thoughts gave her a realization. "... And Andonis too took a fancy to her. Shortly after she became engaged, she lost her fertility, and passed from sorrow soon after."
Lore began to pace. "Blaming the Bonaventura family, the Prince declared war on Breacia. Andonis led the battle against that Kingdom and won. The Prince died in a neighboring skirmish. Andonis won glory and acclaim, but still remained in the shadow of his brother, and hadn't won the heart of his love." She cupped her rounded stomach, shaking fingers shattering her thin facade of composure. "Do you really think he would..?"
Sympathy colored Cassion's gaze. "I don't quite know," he said, "but there's something about it all."
"I'd hope not, but we both know mere hope gets us nowhere." Lore clenched her fist, then released the tension in her hand with a spasm before dragging a hand across her face. "I'll be visiting the temple tomorrow anyway. Perhaps, gods willing, I'll be gifted insight."
"There's not much room to rely on the will of the gods in situations like this, Lo."
"Don't be a heretic, Cass."
A room awash with shadow, boiling potions beneath the sill. A spider spun a web far and wide, etching into it poison and tall tales and untruth. The madwoman cackled as the made something novel, something new.
"A gift to you, dearest widow. But a weaver's gifts never kiss and tell. Do with my word what you will."
Farouq was not a young man when Crown Prince Addicus was announced to the Kingdom. He watched with narrow eyes only a hawk of the Empire could, with age and wisdom set in his brow and long spent glory buried in his bones. He sipped on his liquor colored with absinthe and reminisced on olden times.
He and the Crow Emperor were bloodless brothers, allies by the twine on their wrists and the agonizing ceremony of Arachne the Raven Weaver. When Crow Emperor underwent the grand ceremony of the Empire, but a filthy commoner boy with not even a coin to his name, Farouq was the one that baptized him with a drink of Aeon Nectar, a gift of the Lapse and of the Passage. For the will of a good Emperor for decades yet to come. After six days he was declared Crow Emperor, and Farouq his Hawk.
They were both old now, and while Farouq could settle old bones in Breacia living a commoner's life, his brother and comrade was to make a selection from the Empire's youth.
Just as a young Addicus Bonaventura was given the name and duty of Crown Heir, a boy would be bathed in incense and would leave the hallowed seal chamber victorious in four days, taking with him the name and title of Eagle Emperor, at his side a Crow.
Farouq didn't much like the Bonaventura or their politics. He didn't like Breacia as a whole outside of relaxation. The wine was good evem as the Thread God gave him her notice.
Addicus Bonaventura would be a complicated man, a complicated and tragic King. Eagle Emperor too would be involved in tragedy. What connected them? What was their purpose?
Bird Empire's Hawk chuckled wryly to himself. He wouldn't be around long enough to watch.
"What do you think, Drusus?"
"What do I think?" returned a younger Marina, amused. "I think the Spinner of Fate Webs has a story to tell."
"A story's never good, especially for those involved." Said Farouq. "And you know of the tension between Braecia and Bird's Land. You know the Raven Weaver only interferes when there's a tragedy in store."
"Aye. But that means I get to watch."
An old man sipped his brew, amused. A Drusus woman was vicious indeed.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
Angela_Erdosy
Angela_Erdosy Things are picking up! Or I think they are. I don't know how dramatic this is to you. Anywho, I expect volume one of this to be fifty odd chapters long. For note, the series is to be called the Widow Weaver's Net.
That being said, I'm always open to (constructive) feedback, debate, questions—so on and so forth. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading it.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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Rangliste 
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Stein