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"Firebrand" (Claira, Ashlin, Jelanda) ---------------------------------- King's Palace, Artolia Capitol - November 16 - Early Evening - ---------------------------------- "What /are/ you doing?" It was more surprise and curiosity than anger that tinged Claira's words, her mind formulating them and pushing them out of her mouth before her better judgement could catch up and stop her from uttering her thoughts. But what else could one expect? Usually, people sat in chairs while they waited in a place like this, or at the very least stayed on their feet. Only Ashlin would have the audacity to recline on the /floor/... for whatever reason. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, but a hint of it must have shown anyway, because Ashlin didn't appear to be preturbed in the least. Then again... her companion was rarely intimidated by her moods anyway. "Just looking at the mural," the younger girl replied without turning or looking away. A pale hand rose and pointed, and Claira's gaze followed. "It's actually very good, even if it is silly." Cast in a style one learned of only in history books, a vivid mural of the gods covered the round dome of the ceiling, soaking in the light of the fire and casting its own unnatural light in reflection. There was nothing particularly special about the events that it depicted, but Claira had to admit that her companion was right - the artist must have been a master of his time. Nothing else would explain its excellence. The figures looked real enough to be touched, should anyone manage to rise to their height. The arts were one of the finer points in Artolia, as the mural proved beyond a doubt. Only Crell Monferaigne boasted such grand works from their past, and as much as she disliked the mood in Artolia right now, it was a far cry from the bloody intrigue of the empire to the north. Just as well, wasn't it? She was going to be stuck here until her negotiations for Jelanda ended, one way or another. If she was refused, then a journey to Villnore would be in order, much as she disliked it; if the King accepted her offer, then they would head into Crell Monferaigne instead. Neither choice was ideal, but that was the burden of life, wasn't it...? "Well, we might as well go, if you've had enough of the ceiling." Her tone wasn't unkind, although someone who didn't know her well would probably misunderstand her words as insulting. It was a game, with Ashlin... and she knew the girl could hold her own any day, if it came to a battle of wits. "I'm afraid we'll have to return soon enough as it is, and you'll have plenty of time to explore while you wait. Finishing this is going to take the better part of the day tomorrow." "I fear I know this ceiling far too well by now. With skills like yours, one would think you could have concluded this hours ago." She rose and placed her cape on her shoulders, fastening it and pulling the hood over her bowed head. "If this keeps up I'll be forced to join you... Maybe a dark hooded figure will put them on edge." She looked up at Claira and giggled softly. Claira arched an eyebrow, a tiny smile trying to turn the corner of her mouth again as she stepped aside and held the door open for her companion. Ashlin was quite an unlikely choice for protection, of all things... but at least she was dedicated and trustworthy. And she came up with some of the most delightful ways to take their vengence on the fools who tried to impede their travels, sometimes... "Oh, enough of that - this is a short appointment compared to the others. At least the Princess has already been Tested." She sighed softly, sharply. "I don't think they'll allow any others into Jelanda's chambers, unfortunately for you. But really - is it that bad? At least the rooms are comfortable." Ashlin snorted but passed by her with a grin that bordered on insolent. "You try sitting in the same room for hours and hours." She paused, and said almost thoughtfully, "I hope you don't expect me to stay in this room tomorrow. I'm supposed to be here to protect you." "Perhaps they'll let you accompany me. Things have been tense here lately... but perhaps..." They fell into silence as they crossed the Great Hall, neither willing to continue their conversation near the ears of the palace staff. It appeared Claira wasn't the only one feeling just a tad paranoid, and the thought was a relief. No matter how good the king's intentions were, long experience told her that there had never been a monarch in history with completely trustworthy advisors or household residents. No need to give his agents - or most certainly Lombert's - any reason to take an interest in her plans.Violent death in a dark alley was not high on her list of things to accomplish during her time in this city. The cold autumn air came as a shock after the warmth of the castle's confines, nearly slapping Claira with its chill fingers the moment she set foot outside beside Ashlin. Her companion didn't seem to mind, but even with the thick woolen layers of her dress, she could feel herself begin to shiver. She wasn't used to this - Flenceburg was fortunate enough to have a mild climate, but this place looked as if it was threatening snow and sleet at any moment. It was going to be an unpleasant walk back to the inn. ---------------------- November 17, Morning Artolia Palace ---------------------- If not for a few, nagging little details, Claira's meeting with Princess Jelanda would have been perfect. The room was warmed by a roaring fire, made more cheerful than ever by the sight of snow falling thickly outside the window, and the princess was better behaved than anyone had given her credit for. Ashlin was waiting by the door patiently, as still as the knight stationed on the other side, her unusual lavender hair and periwinkle eyes covered by the cowl of her robe and the rest of her pixie figure swathed in the same dim black. She was quiet, seemingly intent on what was going on, though that was hard to believe. It wasn't the most exciting of things to watch, this evaluation that she was taking of Jelanda; most of it consisted of a long, written test, and verbal questions that had nothing to do with magic. The next part would be more to her liking, Claira thought grimly, but that was going to be a chore in itself. Lombert's presence - hovering over the meeting like a vulture, held back from the table only by Jelanda's infuriated stare - was already a huge impedement, as she sensed the princess being less than honest with her answers when the man was around. What in the world would come of the practical testing of her skill, if she felt that she had to hold back in front of the minister? The princess finished her exam with a flourish and straightened with a toss of her golden ringlets, wiping the tip of her quill with a smudged cloth and placing it back into its case. The ink bottle was capped with the same exaggerated precision, and when the ink on her parchment was completely dry, she rolled it up and handed it across the table to Claira with a delicate flick of her wrist. The imperious efficiency of her gesture was spoiled, however, by the petulant turn to her lips as she said, "I don't know why you made me take this. I have been tested already." "Likely when you were too young to remember," Claira murmured as she took the scroll, eyeing the princess across the table. She didn't want to goad the girl, but her conceit was only /just/ tolerable; anyone else, and she would have been snapping out her irritation just like her old history teacher from the academy. That woman was /impossible/, and her sharp tongue was still legendary among the students today. Claira didn't want to be like that - not wiuth someone she would likely have to deal with for years to come. "It is necessary, Princess. The Academy insists that each applicant take an entrance exam no matter their age or station. You are not exempt from that." "/You/ are the one coming to /me/, Professor." If Claira hesitated to snap, the princess certainly didn't seem to feel obligated to return the favor. "If you're so selective over there, why have you bothered /me/ with this nonsense?" "You had best learn how to curb your tongue, Jelanda," the older woman replied a bit more sharply than she intended, deliberately using the girl's name rather than making reference to her position. "Your attitude will only get you into trouble, and the headmistress does not care /what/ your station might be when it comes to showing respect and abiding by the rules." The princess had quite an expressive face; Claira found herself suppressing a bubble of amusement at the way her eyebrows contracted and her lips whitened in anger. Faint spots of pink tinted her cheeks. Was the girl going to start shouting? She couldn't find it in her heart to stamp it all down... tales of Jelanda's infamous temper had actually made her quite curious, and Claira was certainly not one to quail before a child's temper tantrum, no matter that she was royalty. Jelanda seemed to think better of it, after a glance to the side of the room Lombert was darkening with his presence, and she leaned back into her chair with her hands folded beneath the table. "I don't see why you insist on all of this when you told me the Academy had already accepted me, /Professor/." Claira's amusement faded somewhat. Well, better than nothing. "We must know where to place you, child." Her lips quirked as Jelanda's cheeks reddened again. Maybe a little taunting would serve her right... but no, that was Ashlin talking. "Private tutoring such as you have had makes determining your grade level a bit more difficult. Placing you too high or too low would only result in your failure." "Let's get on with it then," she said irritably, crossing her arms and looking away toward the door. At Ashlin... curiously. "Who is that?" Ashlin, still leaning casually against the wall, lifted her head. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "If it weren't for our surrondings and your not-so-inviting charm, I would be asking you the same question." Jelanda's eyebrows contracted again, and she frowned. "And just what is /that/ supposed to mean?" The figure leaning against the wall lifted her head, revealing a pale oval face inside of the dark hood. A grin spread across Ashlin's features, and she giggled. Claira quirked an eyebrow, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "That," she said in reply to the princess's original question, "is my bodyguard. She makes an interesting traveling companion, but she's quite a tease." Ashlin seemed to thinkthe princess wouldn't believe her, because she folded her cloak back just far enough to reveal the well-crafted hilt of her rapier, letting it fall once Jelanda had a good look. "So /that's/ how you describe me these days.....who would have known." Claira lifted her eyebrows and gave her a tight smile, before turning back to the princess. "Shall we move on?" The meeting would be over after this last, important bit of observation. She was positive Jelanda would meet the criteria, and then some; her power was amazing for such a young girl. Only... She turned her gaze to Lombert, and in the most courteous tone she could manage, she asked, "May we have a few moments alone? This will work better with as few people as possible hovering at the edges." That seemed to be the last thing Lombert wanted to hear, but his swift reply made it obvious that he had already thought of the same thing. Pity. So the princess wasn't holding back of her own free will, was she? "I cannot condone that, Professor. I do not question your integrity, but surely you understand that to leave the princess /alone/ in the company of a stranger-" "The princess will not be alone, Minister," she cut in smoothly, glancing toward the guard. "I do not object to the knight remaining. Unfortunately, the presence of... a man such as yourself will damage the results, and I do not want to waste Jelanda's time." She glanced back to the Minister, and offered him a deprecating smile. "If you please...?" "Just go, Lombert," Jelanda snapped, rising to smooth out her silk skirts. "I'm not afraid of a little magic test. /You/-" she threw him a pointed look, "-are the one who told me it would be 'child's play'. Do as she asks so we can get this /over/ with!" "But Your Highness-" "I said GO!" Her shout cracked into the room like a whip, and she swiped her hand through the air, pointing to a door behind her - likely the entrance to her room. "NOW!" For a moment Claira was sure Lombert would persist and continue the argument, but to her mild surprise he simply glared for a moment at the princess before gathering what dignity he could with his robes and disappearing through the door. She hadn't pegged Lombert to be that submissive, but... this was a formal meeting. Arguing with the princess in front of guests would result in his termination, certainly... But that wouldn't be such a terrible outcome, now would it... "Well," Claira said softly, breaking the silence, "I suppose we had better finish this." She ignored the peeved expression on princess's face and rose as Jelanda had, reaching into her leather bag - propped up against the table leg - and drawing out a thin, fluted gold staff, topped with a ruby. The jewel sprang to life, blood red, and she held it up for Jelanda to take. "I'm sure you have better scepters, princess, but this will suit my purposes for today. If you please..." Jelanda reached forward and took the staff gingerly, her grip tightening when nothing untoward happened to her for touching it. The jewel flared again as it sensed a new weilder, and she ran her finger along the ruby's perfect surface, raising her gaze to Claira's again after a moment. "Well?" Claira took up her own scepter and stepped back, away from the table and her belongings. It wouldn't do any good to mix any other magic into this. She beckoned for the princess to follow her, and pushed loose strands of ebony hair behind her ears so it wouldn't get in her way. "We'll start simply, then; cast a shield spell, as well-fortified as you can manage..." ------------------------------------ "Firebrand" (Claira, Ashlin, Jelanda) By Amber Michelle ------------------------------------ |