User:Thaeus/soj/prelude

The Saga of Julia: Prelude

A FEW WEEKS BEFORE THE WINTER SOLSTICE

It was cold outside; the Winter Solstice was only a few short weeks away. Under the still and empty light of a half-moon, a girl, escorted by a friend, walked into the great and puzzling edifice known as Metamor Keep. Her tear-stained eyes were mostly closed, opening only occasionally out of a passive interest in where she was going. The destination didn't matter.

They walked north through the Outer Gate without much trouble. The gate was inexplicably still open at this hour, and the guard, satisfied that they weren't lutins, waved them through without a problem. The Middle Gate was even easier - her friend knew the guard on duty.

Continuing on their way, they walked north through the town. The snow covered houses and shops looked rather attractive to her chaperon, but she didn't give them a glance. They continued north through the snow-covered streets to the Keep Proper.

The third gate, the Inner Gate, presented little trouble either. The guards were playing a card game. Two of them were quite obviously drunk, and likely trying to relieve the monotony of a late-night shift. This did not reflect well on them half-an-hour later.

Perhaps she knew where she was going after all - she shrugged off his help and took the lead. Her stumbling steps steadied, and led deep into the Lower Keep to a stairway her companion had never seen before. He slowed down and stopped - it was likely that it led up into a tower, and neither of them had leave to enter. To his dismay, she entered, and he had no choice but to follow. He just couldn't leave her alone.

The steps ended, amazingly enough, at a completely empty room. There was a large glass window facing the north with a view encompassing the snowy gardens, the thick castle walls, and the valley and mountains to the north. The beautiful scenery, especially the northern mountains, reminded her of some things and unpleasant issues that she hadn't thought of for years.

But it took her away again... she dropped her backpack onto the floor and just stared out the window. She was mesmerized by the lull of the night, and the smells that filled the air. She leaned out next to the glass, and let drift her despair.

Patiently, quietly, she waited for the dawn.

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THREE-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO

"Send her in," he said in tones of grave importance.

"Yes, sir!" replied the guard, who was sufficiently unnerved. He pulled open one of the two large doors and beckoned for the haggard woman waiting out in the hall to come in.

He watched her patiently as she staggered in. Her hair was long and brown and in a state of disarray. It looked like the death of combs. Her face was unblemished, but her eyes were red and had bags. The clothes she wore were alright -- a pair of black pants and a red short-sleeved shirt but a bit dirty and frayed, and certainly not something to wear for such an important meeting. On the other hand, it was quite possible that she had no idea what she was getting into.

She looked rather worn-out. He felt a bit of pity for her.

In her right hand she held a wooden corked flask. In a lightning movement, she brought the bottle to her lips and drank several mouthfuls.

Shock replaced his pity. He recognized the smell right away - that was some of Donnie's good stuff! Although he had only tried that particular poison twice over the past three years, he still immediately recognized it. The stuff, as it was affectionately known, was very special, and according to popular rumour could only be brewed during the first full moon after the Autumn Equinox. All he knew for certain were that it was extremely hard to get hold of, and after Donnie deemed it ready for public consumption (it required a lengthy period of aging), all his regulars would be bedridden for nearly a week.

The stuff was made from apples well, mostly apples. It was true about having to keep it in a wooden cup, too.

No wonder she was staggering! And yet, still, she was standing up and on her feet, and for that alone he was shocked. He felt a peculiar bit of pride in holding the door for someone who could drink so much without falling to the floor in a comatose heap. She didn't even need any support! He had only a thimbleful the last time, and he still couldn't remember a single thing he did afterwards (although his friends often made joking accusations that he couldn't disprove).

As he indulged himself in thought, the woman stepped into the room and looked around. She quickly squinted from the bright morning sunlight streaming through a large window on the opposite wall. She couldn't make out too much detail, but she caught enough. This part of the Keep obviously wasn't used much; it lacked anywhere to sit other than an old dusty bench under the window. On both sides of the door were empty torch-holders. The room was surprisingly well lit by the sunlight, but it didn't illuminate everything. The corners were shadows, as was the south wall except for a doorway, from which a faint flickering glow emanated.

She focused her blurred eyes on the figure in the centre of the room. After a few uncomfortable moments, she blurted, "Heya, Duke Thomas, sir!" and bowed.

She didn't intend to fall prostrate to the floor. It just happened.

The soldier shook his head, mumbled his disappointment, and helped her back up.

The horse looked over her, noting her hair, her clothes, and the peculiar smell that could only be described as the underneath of a bar stool. Given what he knew of her past, it wasn't a big shock at all. But still... he hadn't expected _this_. She was far worse than what he expected. Now somewhat uncertain, he looked nervously over to dark doorway, in which now stood the silhouette of a large rabbit.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the hammered woman, who was showing her appreciation to the guard by teaching him how to play Centurion.

With fake nonchalance, he walked over and asked the watcher, "Are you sure about this?"

"For the last time, yes," replied the rabbit irritably. "Stop asking me that, alright?"

Rushing back, he coughed to regain the woman's attention (although the clattering of his hooves was enough) and presented her with her mission:

"You, Julia Lightscale, have been a faithful Keeper for many years. Your deeds in the Battle of the Three Gates were," he paused uncertainly, "notable and extremely important to the well-being of everyone-"

"Why thank you, sir!" Julia interrupted. "You don't know how much I appreciate finally hearing this!"

Ignoring her, he continued, "and are the stuff of myth and legend. So in the light of your heroic history and ability-"

Noting that the horse was ignoring what she had to say, she quickly shot out, "This isn't about my granduncle, is it?"

"Who? No, no just a second, please."

Duke Thomas looked over to the hare, who shrugged and continued gnawing a carrot.

"That is to say." He stopped, having lost the thread he was on. Giving up, he began, "Anyway, the people of Metamor desperately need your services once again. It is your vitally important mission to take this document" with that he flourished a sheepskin scroll with gold trim "and present it to King ____ of the Pyralian Kingdoms.

Julia stared at the scroll for a while, her hand suspended over the wood bottle. Quickly enough, she made the only decision she could - she didn't really have a choice. It was an order from her king.

That done, she looked up and said, "Yes, your majesty! I'm your man!"

He let that pass and said, "Thank you. I request that you leave on this all-important mission immediately. The guard shall bring you everything you need for your mission."

"Do I get a horse?"

"No," the Duke said flatly.

Julia stared at the equine figure of royalty for a while, watching him shift from one foot to the other. Then she uncorked the flask and took a quick drink (the guard behind her winced). Unnoticed to her, a few drops spilled on the floor and started eating away at the stone.

With a lightening fast salute and a rather fiendish grin, she slurred, "Yessir! Onnamywaysir!"

She turned around and walked quickly to the door. The guard lead her out of sight to where her supplies were waiting.

After the door closed, Duke Thomas Hassan the Fifth stared at the patch of smoking floor. With a pleading tone he yelled, "You're sure, right, Phil? Absolutely sure?"

The rabbit walked in, rubbed his fur, sniffed the air a bit, switched the carrot to his other paw, and, really, didn't reply at all. He awkwardly patted his friend on the shoulder with his large forepaw, and told him not to worry.

The two of them walked over to the other room, where Phil said, "Come on, let's have a drink! Thordis? Would you please get a Jack Strafford for myself and a vodka for the duke? And something for yourself, of course."