Chương 5: A Priestess's Vision
Dark burgundy wood arched above the large, warm manor hall with intricately carved buttresses and panels. It was daring to use wood from the toxic blood oak for furniture, let alone a household. The process for treating the wood and working it in such a way to make it safe was tedious and expensive. The wood used in one small panel alone was worth more than most households.
Markos had heard the rumor that most of the interior Drassin castle was made of Northern blood oak want blessed by the Fleur and Embers to protect it from ever burning and endangering the surrounding area. The floors were covered by rich wool rugs of crimson and white from the Eastern desert. The focal point of the chamber was the white marble mantle below carved wooden panels featuring the eagle and wolf of the Arand coat of arms.
Knight General Marcius de Arand was a broad shouldered and imposing looking man with dark amber eyes, warm russet skin and dark hair pulled back into a tight braid. The amber sat in a large chair wearing a doublet of deep green edged with gold across from a pale ginger haired man with mismatched colored eyes in a doublet of black and gold brocade. Four other chairs were turned with the backs to the door. Markos assumed that the ginger haired man was the king.
The General's gaze turned on Markos and Imelda as they entered the chamber from the far door. Imelda paused for a nod of approval from her father before continuing forward. Markos couldn't make out what the men were discussing but as they got closer the topic shifted.
"Forgive the interruption your Grace, my hunters have returned. Markos, what do you have to report?" The General's voice was bold and rich as he spoke. He looked at Markos with a gesture for the young man to speak freely. Imelda moved to her father's side. He affectionately kissed the girl on the cheek before she settled on a chair beside him and grabbed a coffee from the table in front of them.
Markos knelt before the men. Lord Arand was a stickler for formalities and in front of the king of the Dragon throne of Drassin was not the time to be rude. "My Lord, our hunt today yielded a black bear and three deer. The bear is of formidable size and its pelt largely undamaged from the arrows used to fell it."
"Are you fresh from the hunt, Sir?" His majesty, Lord Petros de Alaverde's voice was full of amusement. "Please rise."
Markos looked between the men. Marcius nodded before the squire continued. "Yes, your Majesty." He adjusted his tunic as he stood before the men. He couldn't place the people in the chairs out of the corner of his vision.
"A black bear with arrows, you say? Might I meet the hunter that took down the beast?" Petros glanced towards one of the chairs for a moment before looking at Markos.
Markos pursed his lips and considered his words before offering. "If my Lord permits such a private audience your majesty. The hunter kneels before you now."
"This is Krista Louvel's son, Markos, your Grace."
Petras leaned forward. "Krista's? Ah yes, he has her eyes."
"Your majesty?" A soft lilting voice drifted from one of the chairs. Markos glanced towards the direction of the woman's voice out of the corner of his eye.
"Go ahead, Sister."
A slender olive skinned Dardanelles woman of maybe 17 slipped from the chair and stared intently at Markos. If her eyes were not a blazing blue that stained the whites of her eyes the telltale blue of an Ember, he would have expected them to be green to compliment her dark auburn tresses.
'She's gorgeous.' He thought, blinking in surprise as he lowered his gaze.
She was clothed in light clothing for the weather. Her neck and shoulders were exposed despite crimson sleeves draping her arms with more securely connected orange sleeves that clung to her arms and covered the backs of her hands. A flimsy orange tunic that narrowed into a thin strip past her waist over a crimson skirt that was slit scandalously up to her hips. Bright orange stocking boots ended at her mid thigh while a yellowish orange obi and rope cinched her small waist over wide hips.
She lightly touched her lips with two fingers before extending her hand toward Markos. "Laima has blessed this man," she offered, glancing back over her shoulder at the king. "I can see her thread. I pray you will let him join the Holy Sword when the time comes, Lord Arand." She turned to face the Knight General with a curtsy. "Ah I see such a brilliance from your little one there as well, my Lord."
Marcius turned his gaze to Imelda who froze with a cookie at her lips as the Ember turned the attention to her. Imelda demurely bit into the crumbly baked good with a curious tilt of her head. The king's posture tensed though his expression was neutral as the Knight General asked, "Can you enlighten us what the prophecies are, Helka Iliana?"
Iliana pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest in a way that caught Markos's attention as she turned again to more easily look between them. "I can but I'm afraid once the words are spoken, they will fade with the telling. Not that the prophecy of the goddess will change, just that the words will forever rest in the minds of the gods. Such is Teiwaz's will, my Lord."
The Knight General and the king frowned. She offered a reassuring smile. "I can assure you that the young lady will be brilliant in her path and the squire will serve the Holy Sword well."
Markos felt a rush of warmth over his skin as Iliana spoke that reminded him of a sensation of being reassured. 'Magic?'
"I will have to be satisfied with that then. Thank you, Helka for indulging an old man."
Iliana shook her head with a light blush. "My apologies that I could not say more, my Lord." She looked to Petras for a moment and shook her head. The tension in the king's posture relaxed.
"Then let us offer his Grace the prize of the bear pelt and its heart as offering to Teiwaz," Marcius offered. Petras nodded his approval. "I'll have the men prepare it and present it at the feast tonight." He turned his attention to Markos. "You may go, Markos and ready yourself for dinner."
"Yes, my Lord. Your will, my hands. Your majesty." Markos bowed first to the king and then to the Knight General before turning and departing the room. He wanted to talk to the Ember more but contact with the sisters of the Order was tightly chaperoned.
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