Forlaith: An Injury

February 7

Another day of boredom and confinement awaited us as we descended the wide staircase and entered the great hall. Thus far, life within the castle walls was filled with a great deal of little nothings, and yet Oswyn acted as if our schedules were filled to the brim, bustling us from one task to another as though we didn't have a moment to lose. 
 
Leofrick, Aedan and Sadon were already in the great hall, attending to their own dull tasks. Leofrick and Aedan were copying something onto scraps of paper and laughing at Sadon, who was cringing away from Oswyn as she tried to teach him to dance.

Unlike the rest of us, Sadon had spent his younger years working like any other ship mate or servant. His family had endured such financial hardship that he was kept him from the life of luxury and education that we had enjoyed. Despite this fact, we were all surprised to learn that he could barely read and write, and that he had no experience with the basic refinements, such as dancing. 
 
Without thinking about it, I stepped forward and interrupted their stumbling progress through the waltz. “Perhaps I could help?” I offered, wording it as a question in case Oswyn was in her one of her moods. We had all learned within the first few days that she tended to take offense at the oddest things. 
 
“Yes. I think that's a very good idea. I'm sure your steps need polishing too. And there's no better way to learn something yourself than to teach it.” With this statement she transferred Sadon's sweaty hand to my own. I ground my teeth as I waited for the young man to muster up the courage to take my waist with his other hand. Oswyn continued to find the most unusual ways of belittling us and our abilities. She had never seen me dance, and yet she chose to assume that I was no good at it. 
 
“You okay?” asked Sadon as he pulled aggressively on my waist to get us moving and threw me off balance. I stumbled into his chest. He apologized though I didn't hear him, I was too busy watching Oswyn frown at me. 
 
I wanted to scream “it wasn't my fault!” 
 
Instead, I shook my head, trying to banish the anger from my mind. Something about Oswyn made we want to strangle her, when, until very recently, I had never had a violent thought. But her! That...

“Are you okay?” Sadon asked again, effectively breaking into my sadistic reveling. 
 
“Yes,” I murmured, forcing a smile to my lips. Sadon was nice. He didn't deserve an angry, resentful partner. “Sorry. She just...”

“I know,” he said before I could get myself in trouble.

I spent the next two hours working with Sadon on his dancing, until I grew tired and an injudicious step sent me sprawling across the floor and thudding into the ornate fire place. All my new siblings came running, slowly followed by Oswyn.

“Forlaith, you okay?” asked Sadon as he skidded to stop beside me.
 
I tried to assess my body, but everyone was shouting at me, demanding to know if I was alright, and their cacophony of noise made it impossible to think. A moment later, another louder voice joined the fray. Oswyn barked at the others to step aside, get help and generally be less “officious,” while at the same time trying to nudge her way into our small circle. 
 
Slowly I began to feel the varying aches and pains of landing so hard against the stone flooring, but the most persistent pain was a burning sensation in my left ankle. I was also feeling the beginning of a headache as I tried to ignore the others' noise. 
 
“SILENCE!” commanded a voice from the side entrance, causing me to cringe. We all turned to see Ardythe stride in, followed by Kaplan who had been spending his time with the king, Marcys and Jehan. “What happened?”

Again the whole throng of individuals began reciting their version of the story. Ardythe jerked his hand in another command to be quiet before looking to Oswyn.

“I-I had Forlaith helping Sadon to-to refine his dance steps when the little kluts tripped,” stammered Oswyn, growing more confident the more she spoke.

“No! It was my fault.”

“No...” I tried to interrupt Sadon but I was too late, he had already taken the blame. 
 
Ardythe looked down at me. “Are you hurt?” 
 
I hesitated. I didn't want to tell them the truth, but as the pain increased I had a feeling that I wouldn't be able to hide it. “Just my ankle,” I stated, refusing to be afraid of my new father, or at least trying to be brave enough to face him.

“You're dismissed,” said Ardythe, waving his large hand at the crowd. My brothers and sisters left slowly. “You too.” Oswyn pursed her lips as she hesitated a moment before obeying her king. “Not you Sadon. Now, Forlaith, I need to check your ankle,” added the king as he knelt down in front of me. 
 
The king lifted the skirt of my dress enough to reveal my ankle, though I could barely recognize it as my ankle. The limb, which was normally thin and tapered, was already now twice it's usual size and turning an unusual shade of purple. Ardythe raised his eyes towards my face before shifting his dark glower to Sadon.

“You dare damage her? The most beautiful daughter I have! All my plans rest on her and you get her hurt!” By the end the king's voice was a bellow of unadulterated rage. 
 
I shied away from him, though the movement caused tears to prick my eyes. What did he mean? How could I possibly be so important? I glanced at the others and spotted my sisters. Their lips were pursed, just like Oswyn's. They were as upset by my sudden importance as I was, though likely for different reasons. 
 
“I-I... s-s-sorry, my lord,” stammered the prince as he ducked his head in a submissive gesture. 
 
“Get out of my sight,” growled the king. The young lad scurried away and out of the castle. I wanted to follow him.

“Kaplan, would you mind?” asked Ardythe in a completely different voice, though what he was asking Kaplan to do I couldn't tell, but before I could protest, my oldest brother had scooped me up into his arms and was following the king out of the great hall, where, no doubt, the others were immediately take up a rampage against me, led by Oswyn.

The rest of the day was spent being poked and prodded by an old healer. I was proclaimed safe, with just a bad sprain and a few bruises, but would be confined to my bed for a couple of days, at the very least.

This left me with more time to think than I would have liked. I cannot make out what Ardythe could possibly have meant about me. Clearly he thinks I'm beautiful, but I cannot believe I am anything beyond my older sisters. And what does he need beautiful women for anyway? My stomach grew cold as I thought through the possible ramifications. Men wanted beautiful women. Were we really here for Ardythe's... entertainment? No, that didn't fit. If that were the case he would not have sought out nobles, nor would he have waited. He definitely wouldn't take the trouble to continue our education. Much as I hate to admit it, he has acted completely appropriately towards us, like any other absent-minded father. No, our beauty must be for some other men. 
 
I tremble to think what men? Would they be kind? Would they be gentle? Could they possibly love us?

The answer to all these questions seemed likely to be no. Again I begin to smear my ink with tears. Perhaps I should stop writing.

Forlaith

Review of Events

I’ve come to realize that some may want to start reading this but do not wish to read months of past entries. I will therefore try and provide reviews roughly once a month to help people keep up with the story. First you should know this story is told via two different Journals, so far (hint hint).

Thus far a few major things have happened. Ardythe, the king of a small nation called the Island, recently laid his only son to rest, having died of a terrible sickness, leaving him without an heir. This small nation was subservient to a neighboring nation, Odrar, up until about three generations ago. Over the past century the Island has become impoverished though bad weather and the constant demand of defending itself from Odrar’s greedy fingers.

Therefore Ardythe finds himself alone and on the verge of losing his nation. In a desperate attempt to gain allies and wealth, he “adopts,” by force and manipulation, seven young people whom he hopes to marry off to distant royalty.

Ardythe and his steward Marcys (the first journaler) spend a number of weeks traveling all over the Island nation seeking out suitable people—beautiful, talented, nobility—with one exception. Here is a little about each “adoptee.”

Kaplan is the eldest and one to inherit the crown. He is the younger brother of a land owning lord and very skilled. He is aggressive and relentless—good qualities for a king to be. He takes his new position serious and is the only "adoptee" to know what the king wants and needs from his new "children." “Each trade partner, each lord, each serf we encountered on our travels said the same thing: they wished Kaplan had been the one to inherit. The serfs praised his generosity and stewardship; the lords all wanted their daughters to be wedded and bedded by him despite his lack of land; and the traders enumerated the transactions where he had showed great wit and economy.”

The next oldest is Rownet. She’s a rather sad character. Ardythe came and snatched her up from her family home just days before she was to be wed. She is a little old for marriage. Ardythe took her in the hopes that she would provide an elegance to the group that the younger women lack. Rownet is doing her best to reconcile herself to this bizarre twist to her life.

Aedan, the third oldest, is a fighter. He does not take things lying down. In fact, when Ardythe came to retrieve him from his family he tried to fight the king’s soldiers. Thankfully his mother saved him and convinced him to go peacefully, illuminating the many different adventures he could have.

Leofrick is a little different from the others. He’s not exactly attractive. In fact he’s kind of quirky looking. Ardythe didn’t want to take him but Marcys convinced the king that if his entire family was beautiful the foreigners would question the vailidity of this make believe family. Leofrick overheard this conversation and is hurt and confused. Until this incident he had been excited at the chance to spread his wings, so to speak.

The next “adopted” child is Jocosa. Unlike the other women she is not… um… well pure. She had an entanglement with Alek, Marcys’ nephew and the ships First Mate. Ardythe feels convinced she won’t try it again and that they can hide her past indiscretions—she’s very pretty.

The youngest “son” is Sadon. He is extremely attractive but also oblivious to it. This trait earns him a spot in the new family despite the fact he was raised by impoverished gentry and therefore uneducated compared to his “siblings”—at least in the areas the gentry think a young person should be educated in.

The last, and far from least, “adopted” child is Forlaith (the second journaler). She has been told that if she doesn’t cooperate Ardythe will have her family killed in front of her. As the youngest of all her new “siblings” she has an innocent view of the world and is often confused by the things going on around her.

Now the whole “family” is together in Bathum, the capital city of the Island and preparing for their journey across the great ocean, though Ardythe has not explained their plans. He has simply allowed them to slowly put the pieces together.

Any questions can be posted in the comments and I will answer them.

Thank you for reading.

Charissa

Forlaith: More Unwanted Change

February 6

Two days after arriving in Bathum we received an unexpected, and if I'm honest unwanted surprise. A short time before dinner we were called down to the great hall where Ardythe, Marcys and a strange woman waited.
“This is Oswyn,” stated Ardythe. “She will be the ladies' governess...”
A delicate cough interrupted his introductions. We all turned to see Oswyn's thin lips pressed into a distasteful grimace.
“Oh right.” Ardythe cleared his throat. “She will be a companion for the ladies. And will be assisting all of you with your transformation into royalty. After all, the expectations for a prince or princess is quite different than what you're, uh, used to. Oswyn will be here, when I cannot, to help you understand your new life.”
I glanced at the older woman. Her lips were still pursed, but the corners were tweaked up into an almost smile. Her hair was hidden by a beaded headdress that made her look more like an owl than a woman. Her eyes bulged out of her skull as they flicked here and there, making sure she missed nothing. She had a thin nose that made her eyes look even larger and her cheeks appear puffy.
I spotted Jocosa and Rownet giving our new governess companion a look of pure loathing. Being older than me, I realized the idea of a governess, or whatever she is, would be quite offensive to them. I had still had minor dealings with the governess back home so it was easier for me to swallow.
“Shall we eat?” asked the woman in a voice that grated my nerves. I started to wonder if I would begin to loath her like the others. She waited only for the king to move before she led the way to the large table set for our meal. The other tables, often filled with other castle inhabitants, were left empty. Evidently Ardythe was keeping our contact with other people to a minimum until he felt we were ready to act like royalty.
“Now ladies, as per the king's request, I have arranged for a seamstress to meet us today and begin preparations to supplement your current wardrobe. Of course I will need to see what you brought first to know how much needs to be added.”
I watched her closely as she spoke. Somehow she managed to eat and talk all at the same time while maintaining complete delicacy of manner. The food just seemed to vanish while she talked. I suddenly felt very inadequate to represent our nation as a princess, and therefore I kept my head down and my thoughts to myself as I made quick work of the meal.
When it was finished, Oswyn lead us away from the men and up to our rooms. We started with Rownet's room and worked our way through each woman's wardrobe. I tried to figure out what standards were for an acceptable gown, but Oswyn seemed to have her own, personal notion of what was necessary to look like a daughter of a king. Whatever those standards were, only one of my gowns passed muster while nearly all of Jocosa's dresses were deemed sufficient.
This entire experience made me feel extremely self-conscious, and if I'm honest, rather resentful. The dresses she rejected with a tiny flip of her had been made by the ladies of my home, the more delicate work done my mother herself, but to Oswyn they might as well have been rags. Ironically, the one dress she did permit to be “just pretty enough” was one my mother had made entirely by herself for my brother's wedding.
Maybe I could pack a few of the other dresses at the bottom of my trunk, but don't tell Oswyn. I have a feeling hidden beneath her careful mask of refinement lurked an enraged monster.
Finally, when I was on the point of tears, she sent for the seamstress, who was a plump woman, clothed in brightly colored fabric. Her plump cheeks red from the winter wind and her thin blond hair puffed out from her head in disarray. The woman waddled in, followed by three younger women, also decked in oddly bright clothing, as if they could advertise just what a dress could look like—not that anyone with sense would want to wear that color!
The plump woman bustled around, measuring us each in our turn, while her assistants organized swatches of fabric, lace and various trim across my bed.
Jocosa quickly discovered it wasn't such a great thing to have all her dresses accepted, or at least that's how she acted. Due to her mostly satisfactory wardrobe, the seamstress spent most of her time focusing on Rownet and myself. I would have gladly traded places with her.
“Well can't I have just one more dress?” whined Jocosa as the seamstresses were packing up their supplies and hurrying out the door.
“I don't not like that tone, Jocosa. A woman must sound pleasing to men, at all time.”
“Like you'd know!” snapped Jocosa.
Oswyn turned a surprising shade of pink while her lips pursed into an ugly pucker. I was beginning to recognize the lip movement as her at her angriest.
“Try and be a lady,” suggested Oswyn through gritted teeth.
“A lady? When has being a lady ever got us anything. Men don't want ladies!”
“Common men like that second mate of yours may not like a lady, the princes you are to mary will prefer a lady.”
“That second mate, as you call him, taught me a lot more about men and their wants than you can ever teach us!”
Oswyn's rounded cheeks went from a fading pink to a red so dark I thought her head might explode. She ground her teeth together and stomped a foot before storming out of the room.
“What do you mean, Jocosa?” I asked. “Who was she speaking of?”
Jocosa let out a big huff of breath as she forced herself to calm down. “Don't worry about it little Forlaith. It's nothing you need to concern yourself.”
I glanced at Rownet, hoping she'd fill me in. She looked relieved, as though she had feared Jocosa would be candid with me. Whatever Oswyn had eluded, neither of them wanted me to know about it, which of course made me all the more curious.
Sometimes I don't like being the youngest in our make-believe-family!
Forlaith

Forlaith: The Capital

February 4

Today was a big day. Our travels are finally over, or at least I hope they are. Alek, the ship's first mate and son of the captain, hinted that we may be setting sail again, though where else we could go, I haven't the faintest idea. The oddest part of it all is that we seem to be missing a crew member, not that I'm complaining. He was a large, frightening man. I couldn’t' muster up enough courage to ask anyone about it.
Upon reaching the wide Bathum Bay the crew began sending our trunks over on small boats that could go handle the shallower waters of the harbor. Evidently the Osim's Revenge is one of four ships too large to enter the harbor proper. Special moorage has been built for them within the protective and naturally forming breakwaters of the bay.
Ardythe journeyed into the harbor with Marcys and Haddock on the first boat, leaving Alek in charge of the disembarking process. It was a slow process. Between all of us “royals” packed into the ship we had a fair number of trunks and packages to be transported to the shore.
Finally, when the sun was nearing the horizon again the last package was delivered and us lowly passengers were called to the deck. Let me be the first to say there is nothing scarier than climbing down a rope ladder onto a tiny boat tied to the side of a giant ship. Though the men had no difficulty accomplishing the task, us women, garbed in long, warm dresses found it very difficult. Poor Rownet slipped near the bottom and positively fell into Sadon's lap. Leofrick teased her the whole way across the harbor.
“Are you this graceful?” he asked after a number of other rude remarks.
“Silence,” I commanded, thoroughly tired of his attempts at humor. No one was laughing, but he seemed oblivious to the sour looks being sent his way. Granted, I think the ores men were having trouble keeping their snickers to themselves. My command was as much for them as for my new brother. “For once attempt to act the gentleman!” I added as my glance slid to Kaplan who should have been the one to silence the younger man. Evidently he read the rebuke in my gaze because a soft blush heated his cheeks. Still, he didn't say anything.
A few minutes later we all arrived at the docks and climb onto the swaying pier. I hurriedly escorted Rownet to solid ground and stabled her as her body tried to continue the motion of the sea. I was accustomed to the sensation, but I knew Rownet had never sailed until this trip. The difficulty of switching from sea to land was still difficult for her.
Marcys met us at the end of the dock with an array of horses. I spotted the last wagon, piled high with our belongings, leaving the busy street. We were surrounded by a few discrete guards who kept an eye on the surging crowd of sailers, merchants and errand boys who hurried along on their own business, completely uninterested in the city's new arrivals.
“Pull the hoods of your cloaks up,” ordered Marcys. “This is not your grand entrance. That will come later.”
We obeyed and were each given a horse. Kaplan assisted me into my saddle while Leofrick helped Rownet—in an effort to make up for his past mistakes, perhaps.
Thankfully they gave me a calm, old mare. I am ashamed to say I am not much of a horsewoman. But I quickly lost interest in the horse as our procession left the lower levels of the city and began the slow climb to the castle.
Bathum is an enormous city; the largest I've ever seen. It begins right up against the wide harbor, some structures built on foundations that are beat by the gentle waves, their high windows looking out over the gray-green water. From their, the many roads twist and intersect with know clear design. Each street we entered was more packed with people, horses and wagons than the last. A few passing people glanced our way with curious expressions, but for the most part we disappeared into the crowd.
Within a few short minutes I was completely lost and overwhelmed. I felt relieved to have guards surrounding us and keeping us from falling behind.
Most of the buildings were at least two stories tall, with shops on the bottom and what appeared to be family dwellings on top. The setting sun was lost behind the continuous obstruction of buildings. As we climbed higher in the city the shops grew less frequent and the houses larger. Eventually the houses were lost entirely behind tall walls and elaborate gardens, but this was just the last street or two.
Finally, we reached a swath of land left completely bare of man made structures. Grass barely even grew here. The single road cut across the circular hillock like a scar. Evidently Kaplan saw my curious gaze.
“It is in case of battle,” he explained. If there were buildings right up against the walls, enemies could scale them, or use them as cover. Now the guards can see anyone who approaches the castle.”
“Are all castles like this?”
“Not many need this precaution. There are not many cities as large as Bathum.”
I remained silent, imaging enemy soldiers trying to attack the colossal walls quickly blotting out the sky as we approached the gatehouse, the menacing teeth of the portcullis causing a shiver to run down my spine.
As we passed through the wide tunnel of the gatehouse I realized the base of the walls were many meters thick. The last guard reached the other side of the wall and the portcullis began its slow descent to the ground, making groaning noises on it's way down. It clanked ominously as the teeth settled into deep holes lined with iron.
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. We were trapped; even if Ardythe hadn't threatened our families, we could never escape this fortress.
The king met us at the steps of the keep while servants ran up and took our horses heads. We were led into the keep separated on the second level. Marcys took the men down one hall and Ardythe led Rownet and myself to our rooms, right next to each other.
“I will leave you to rest. Servants will come to help you dress for dinner,” he said by way of parting and left us at our own doorways.
We stared at each other, both afraid to enter the rooms assigned us. Until now, we had shared a small cabin on the ship and therefore had never had a moment alone. As much as I missed the idea of privacy, I now loathed the idea of loosing her company. Before we could muster up the necessary courage, we heard a high pitch voice singing in the room beyond my own. Without thinking we both marched up to the door and knocked.
A beautiful young lady answered. She was slim, with a delicate face and wavy brown hair—similar in shade to both Rownet and myself. Her elegant lips quirked up into a smile.
“You must be Rownet and Forlaith,” she said briskly before ushering us into her room. “Ardythe said you'd be arriving soon! I'm Jocosa! Isn't this just exciting!”
“Did... did he take you from your family too?” I asked, stuttering over the words.
“Oh I came quite willingly!”
“Willingly?” Rownet and I repeated, shock marring our features.
“Of course! He's saved, no question about it!” She giggled. She actually giggled.
I had spent the last three weeks crying myself to sleep and this woman was actually giggling.
“You see,” she continued in a whisper. “I was in... a bad way, if you know what I mean.”
I looked at Rownet, completely confused, but the older woman seemed to understand. Her eyes had narrowed as she stared at Jocosa.
“But now Ardythe will find me a husband! How can you not be excited?”
I didn't know how to respond to my newest sister and began to wonder if she might be crazy.
Forlaith