Young Writers Society

Ceria

Lyss walked back over to me, frowning.
"General Emilian says we cannot train today." I frowned.
"He doesn't want to be over-shadowed by a princess." I said, trying to lift the mood. It didn't seem to work.
"So what shall we do now?" I asked. Looking past her, watching the general walk off. One of these days I would spar with him, and beat him at his own game. I smiled at the thought. I looked up to the sky, hoping to see fach coming back. I wanted, no, needed to know that Tathiel was on his way. I missed him terribly. We had never been apart for more then a few days. I looked back at Lyss.
"So? What shall we do?"

*OOC: I edited my last post to include the end of the fight and Marlon's promotion. It also makes for better continuity. I'll also add the kitchen scene to this post, later.

Marlon's day had been most productive, after the tough fight, he was looking forward to some monotonous work peeling potatoes, it would give him time to think. He arrived outside the kitchen, just in time to hear a crash of dishes falling.

"Out! Out! Out! Out!" a voice shouted from inside the kitchen. A moment later, a servant rushed out the door and ran right into Marlon. She slipped and Marlon caught her in his arms. He lifted her until her feet were back under her.

"Sorry," she said, before looking up at Marlon. Her eyes were brown and serene like a doe, her hair was likewise brown and rested lightly on her shoulders. She had a pretty face and if there was one thing that Marlon couldn't resist it was a pretty face. He could see his eyes in the reflection of her own and for a moment time seemed to stop.

"You can let go of me now," she said quietly. Marlon blinked and time resumed it's normal flow.

"Of course," Marlon said and immediately let go of her. "My name is Toodles, Toodles Oxfield."

"Mine is Callista Rosalva. You must be new to the castle. I know everyone here."

"I just came from my orientation of the castle. I start my duties as a guard tomorrow."

"I've been here my whole life. I ran down these halls as a kid."

"I wouldn't have guessed that; you walked into me like a pro," Marlon replied.

"I must be going, it was nice meeting you Toodles Oxfield," she said.

"Likewise Ms. Rosalva," Marlon replied. She began to walk down the corridor. Marlon couldn't just let her walk away! "Ms. Rosalva!" Marlon called. She turned to face him.

"Seeing as I'm new here and you've lived your entire life here, would it be possible for you to give me a tour later?"

"I thought you just got back from your orientation?"

"I did, but it was very dull and they only covered a small part of the castle. I think you know more about the castle than the guy that led the orientation and you've must have better stories," Marlon said. She laughed.

"We'll see, Toodles, we'll see," she said.

Fanchon

Free to do whatever I do, except no matter what I do, no Ceria. So I'm allowed to fly and catch mice, and...nope that pretty much sums it up. I am so bored...so bored that I feel as though time has slowed down, but I have slowed down more, and soon my heart will be going too slow and I'll die. That's how bored I am, and I want my Ceria. I'm a bird, who can keep me from flying to her? No one can, even if I'm told not to. These skies are mine. Ceria probably misses me...I drop from the tree I'm in a spread my wings, catching the breeze and heading towards Acoteg.

Joram
Talking about the mercenary attack? So Emilian was already preparing for Tathiel’s arrival. And his later reception.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’ve reinforced security at the gates.” So there’d be less men on the inside.

“Good man. Anything else?”

“They’re renovating the west tower. Had to pull out most of the men.” Emilian was looking annoyed. Joram nodded, repressed a smile.

“Isn’t that where the guest quarters are?” A dramatic sigh. “I’m sure Tathiel will be able to take care of himself. Is that all?”

A nod, then: “Who was that new recruit?”

“He caught my eye. Didn’t quite catch his name, though. Something ridiculous. He can fight, that should be enough. Got me serious. Can we keep him?”

“ You’ll do what you want no matter what I think. You know I won't stop you from collecting new protégé, though gods know you tire of them in a matter of weeks.” Joram took on an mock-affronted look, almost protested, but then Emilian was speaking again. “He is… somewhat familiar to me. Watch him, will you?”

That his new puppy was only “strangely familiar” was strange, and vaguely worrying. But then now that he’d promoted him, he’d be near at hand, and easy to watch. Joram waved his hand. “Of course. When have you ever know me to be careless?”

Emilian stared blandly at him. Joram looked back. Frowned.

“You look like hell swarmed over. Really, Emilian, I thought you knew better than to come out looking like this. Stay still.” He reached up to rearrange the absolute mess that was Emilian’s hair, smoothing the messy strands into submission.

Tolerant—and slightly sheepish—Emilian let him. And only rolled his eyes when Joram moved down to readjust his collar and straighten his jacket. Still not perfect, but satisfactory.

“There. Now, was that all you needed of me?”

“Yes. Are you done with the recruits?”

He looked at the men still sparring. Grimaced at a particularly clumsy parry.

“They’re positively awful. Have fun drilling them into shape.”

A playful pat on Emilian's shoulder, then he was turning away. “I need to get things ready for Tathiel. I’ll come back later.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

"Me? Never."

-----

What on earth had the puppy been doing at the kitchen? And why was Callista still trying to get in? He thought she’d given up on it a long time ago.

…potato duty? Seriously?

Joram shook his head.

“Consider that punishment rescinded. I would rather have you getting your equipment as one of the King’s Guard. None of that sub-par junk they give recruits. Callista, how about you show him the way?”

There. With them dealt with he wandered inside, smiled at the cooks and ignored the hostile looks. They’d never taken well to his barging into their territory.

Too bad for them.

“Would any of you be kind enough to point me to where you store the flour?”

Tigad

The king was not pleased as he strode through the halls to the kitchen. Listening to petitions had been mind-numbingly boring, per usual, but at least it meant that there were no great disasters brewing in the land. He had been almost finished with the last pair of farmers disputing a cow, a daughter, and a name when a harried looking servant came and whispered to him of trouble in the kitchens. Of the Joram kind.

Tigad lingered only long enough to dispense his judgment (the daughter would marry the other farmer's son, with the cow as the main course at the wedding, and the name issue being settled with the marriage) before setting off for the kitchens to deal with his mischievous general.

A servant with ink staining the hem of her skirt passed by, what appeared to be a new recruit in tow. Tigad payed them little heed, only looking at them long enough to identify their position, before he turned a corner and entered into the kitchen and utter mayhem.

The counters and stove were ablaze. The floors were slick with soup from the overturned cauldron and littered with trampled food. Everywhere were servants and kitchen staff frantically batting at flames with blankets and aprons as the Head Cook shouted orders right and left for buckets and more blankets and put that fire out there before it spreads. And at the heart of it all, looking absolutely gleeful, stood none other than Joram.

The general noticed his king and all-but pranced over, like an overeager puppy. "Your Majesty! Would you believe how flammable flour is? It's perfect!"

How flammable flour...? Tigad's eyes narrowed into a glare and his voice deepened into a growl. "Are you telling me that you are the cause of this fire?"

"Yes." Joram smiled, seemingly oblivious to his liege's anger. "Isn't it marvelous?"

The question almost drove Tigad over the edge. The king grabbed a handful of the general's jacket and pulled the man forward until he was nose-to-nose, his brown eyes boring into Joram's surprised ones. "Get. Out. Of. The. Kitchen. Now." With that, Tigad turned and yanked his general in the general direction of the exit before letting go and turning his attention back to the chaos in the kitchen. Things did not look good, and the kitchen staff looked to be fighting a losing battle.

Cursing, Tigad stalked out of the kitchen, calling, "Joram!"

Fortunately the man had not gotten far. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Get some men assembled in a bucket line. I want every spare soldier we have putting out this fire. I do not want it spreading. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then move!" Joram dashed off and Tigad went back into the kitchen, making a beeline for the Head Cook.

"Sire! You really shouldn't be in here. It isn't safe. We're doing the best we can to put out the fire, but..."

Tigad shook his head. "I am aware of that. You can expect some soldiers to be arriving soon to help. As far as General Joram is concerned, however, I understand that he caused all this?"

"He did, Sire." The woman wrung her hands. "I tried to get him out, but he wouldn't listen, and he kept slipping out of my grasp every time I tried to bodily remove him."

Typical. "Yes, well next time he makes a nuisance of himself in the kitchens, you have my express permission to knock him senseless and dump him in the midden heap."

"Yes, Sire!" replied the cook, an almost wicked gleam in her eyes. "That will make things much easier! ...I trust you will deal with him, if it isn't too bold to mention?"

"I will," promised Tigad before, with a slight nod of his head, he departed to find Emilian. Joram generally listened to the younger general, Tigad knew, and he intended for Joram to be paying attention during the much-needed severe talking to.

Emilian

"General? General Joram sent me to escort Toodles here."

Emilian smiled graciously at Callista. She always seemed to relax whenever she was around him, but stiffened when near Joram. He didn't quite blame her. Joram was frightening and he seemed intent on scaring the poor princess out of his wits. "Thank you, Callista. You may return to the kitchen."

Callista curtsied. "As you wish, my lord."

"Don't call me that," Emilian said. She ignored him and turned to walk away. That girl could be such a handful sometimes. She certainly had her father's short temper. "And stay out of harm's way, Callista!" Emilian called.

Sighing, he turned towards the new recruit with the moronic name. Concentration drew lines across Emilian's forehead.

He swore he'd seen Toodles before. But a face like that, combined with a name that stupid - Emilian would never been able to forget that. Hell, Emilian hardly ever forgot anything, but to forget someone so absurd? This was embarrassing. Finally, Emilian relaxed. It wouldn't be good for him - no, for anyone around him - if Emilian looked constipated anytime he was around Toodles.

"Toodles," Emilian greeted. Toodles straightened and saluted his superior. The men behind Emilian murmured something. Emilian glared at them. "Men, this is Toodles Oxfield."

Laughter. Emilian waited for it to die down before going on. He cleared his throat. "He will be your new captain." The words cut his throat like broken shards. Joram had to go with this recruit. Of all the recruits, Toodles was the one who caught his eye. What kind of deplorable luck was this?

The other guards' mouths hung open. "What?" came the unified reply.

Sometimes the unity of the unit frightened Emilian. He once panicked about what the group would do if one of them died. Would the rest die too? It seemed likely for a group this close-knit. Perhaps having Toodles around would help the men, perhaps it wouldn't. Emilian wasn't truly sure.

"Toodles, I leave you in charge of these men-" Emilian began his briefing but this slightly smoky, flour-like smell drifted through the air. It seemed as if the men smelled it too, for they were looking around and sniffing the air.

Emilian motioned for the guards to stay put and quiet as he snuck out towards the hallway. Oh God. The wind, often fresh and pleasant, blew thick smoke in to Emilian's face, sending the general into a coughing fit and forcing him to retreat into the equipment room, waving away smoke.

Then, from the black smoke came Tigad, and it made the king seem even more imposing than he really was. Emilian blanched. Tigad was red-faced, quivering. In fear or anger Emilian didn't know. Either way, it couldn't be good.

"Y-Your highness!" cried out the guards.

"Emilian!" Tigad thundered, furious and beet-red. Emilian swallowed the lump in his throat. If Tigad was angry and came looking for Emilian, that usually meant one thing.

Joram.

"He didn't -?" Emilian began.

"He did!" Tigad stomped his feet and jumped, shaking his fist. If Emilian hadn't been so terrified he would have laughed. "He burned my kitchen down! Talk some sense into that madman, Emilian! He needs to be taught a lesson! I ought to demote him -"

"No, sir! That would be a bad idea," Emilian hastily cut in. "I'll talk to him. Right now, in fact." And so Emilian scrambled out of the equipment room and forged his way through thick smoke, crashing into a person here and there and stumbling over objects strewn on the floor sometimes.

Partly because he was eager to get away from Tigad's wrath and partly because Joram might have just burnt Callista into a crisp.

Lyss-

Lyss found a small cloth ball and eventually her and Ceria sat on the ground tossing it between them and talking amicably in the way Lyss could imagine constituted friendship, if it hadn't been for the strange circumstances in which their relationship had been formed. She was careful to steer away from any topics that might prove difficult or problematic, letting on too much about anything political. There, Emilian, aren't you proud of me? she thought happily as she got Ceria talking about her childhood and her horse and other such innocent subjects.

For the second time in as many days, Callista rushed past them anxiously. "Alright, Callie?" Lyss called (she had never bothered to inquire whether the other girl found the nickname endearing or annoying).

She turned and sighed. "Yes, just running all over the place sorting out that new recruit, Toodles."

Lyss couldn't help it, she burst out laughing at the name. "Poor man," she said. "Why you?"

"To keep me out of the kitchens, maybe?" She smiled and shrugged. Lyss giggled and Ceria looked at her inquiringly. "I better go, anyway. I'll see you later!"

"Bye!" Lyss called, then turned back to Ceria. "Thought you had met Callista. She drops things a lot."

Ceria nodded. "Yes, I remember. She dropped something in my room. Why do they keep her in their employ?"

Lyss debated whether it was safe or not to tell Ceria the rumours, and leant forward conspiratorially. "There are rumours that-" then she cut off, looking up. "Why is there smoke?"

"Where there's smoke there's fire," Ceria said and they both jumped to their feet.

It seemed that the source was the kitchens, but by the time the two had figured that out, it seemed to have died down. Not that it appeared to matter to a raging Emilian, looking for once almost as mad as Joram as he barged his way through the corridors.

"What's he doing?" Ceria cocked her head to one side.

"No idea, but it might be a good show." Lyss grinned wickedly, thinking of showing Ceria her favourite form of entertainment- that was, watching General Joram (whom she had no doubt was the cause of this) be berated. "Coming?"

Joram
Perhaps he’d overdone it a bit, Joram conceded as he watched the soldiers deal with the fire and helpfully interrupted to give out instructions and pointing out the places where more attention should be paid.

On the other hand, he now had undeniable proof the flour idea would work. He’d have to thank Emilian for that.

“Joram!”

Speak of the devil. He shifted, half-turned to look in the direction the call had come from, and smiled as Emilian came dashing towards him, only just barely avoiding collision with a harried-looking, bucket-wielding cook.

“Emilian! Come to help deal with the fire?”

Emilian was looking just a bit winded, probably from breathing in the smoke. And a bit annoyed. “I told you not to do anything stupid! Do you have any idea how close the king is to throttling you?”

Hn. Thinking back on the earlier scene… Getting Tigad to resort to manhandling was, on second thought, probably sign that things had gotten a bit too far out of hand. “…Close?”

“Joram. The castle is on fire.”

Joram peered at his friend through soot-darkened strands of hair. “That was the whole point of the experiment, Emilian.”

And there was that familiar look that said Emilian was trying to stave off a headache. It was an annoyingly common look when he was dealing with Joram.

“Alright.” He paused the impending lecture, sidestepped to let a soldier run past them. Joram watched him pass, decided he sort of liked the chaos. It would make for a wonderful distraction when they’d set the plan into motion. Brilliant.

“Joram.”

“Hmm?”

The younger man was looking at him, weighing the pros and cons of continuing. Joram smiled.

Emilian sighed, and gave up. At least for now. Joram savored the victory.

“Don’t do it again. Not when I’m not around. And, for the love of all that is good and holy, if--when you do, do not get caught. One would think you’d know this, by now.”

Joram shrugged. “You worry enough for the both of us.”

A beat of silence. “There’s a reason for that.”

Joram conveniently ignored him in favour of glancing behind him. Who was that coming up?

“Lyss! Come to help clear up the mess?” The girl seemed disappointed by something. He wondered what it was. Then movement by her side caught his eye, and he narrowed his eyes. “Princess Ceria. I’m afraid you’ve come here at a bad time. Such an unfortunate accident, really. Should you really be wandering near the origin of the fire?” The side-glare at Lyss was sign that Joram was not happy with this.

And that this should be remedied quickly, lest he spread the bad mood.

[[Kara, tell me if that was too lenient on Milly's part, yeah? Can and will edit if needed :P]]

(I would like to apologize for my absence, but I will be returning on Monday. Then, I will be able to make a dedicated post. Please feel free to move my character around until I can post. Sorry guys.)

Ceria

A fire? I peered around the general but he stepped back in my line of view. Very irritating.
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself general. But I do appreciate your concern." I turned my back on him. "Coming Lyss?" I asked.
"Of course Ceria." I rather to be called by my name, not my title. I felt that when you let people call you by your title it controls your life, and you are no longer a person with a name and feelings, you become that king or that princess. We walked down the hall back up to my room. I sat by the window. Terribly bored again. I was tired of acting like a princess, I wanted to get out and do something, horse riding, training, anything!
"So what now Lyss? Are you as terribly bored as I am?" I ask my, possibly best friend here.
"Yes, I am." I turned my head and smiled at her. I hoped I healed soon, I wanted to go home... Fachon flew into the room, making a graceful swoop and flying back to land on my shoulder. I ruffled his feathers, and looked at his ankles, no note. A bit of a disappointment but it was still my darling birdie!

Fanchon

My Ceria looks slightly disappointed when she sees my bare leg, but she smiles and scratches my neck. It feels good. "Hey, Fach," she murmurs.

Hi Ceria, I chirp. She turns to another girl next to her. Strange girl, not someone who my Ceria would befriend back home. Maybe that's because of all the pressure on her shoulders when we're home.

"Lyss, this is my dove," she says.

Hey Lyss, I say to the girl. Ceria looks back at me.

"You want to go to Lyss?" she says, holding me out towards her. Sure, why not. I step onto Lyss's shoulder and seeing all the hair hanging around her ears, I bite a strand and play with it in my beak.

TATHIEL

I stared at the smoke billowing from the palace, only half-wondering what had happened earlier. There were no flames, so it didn't hold my attention for long. My mind was on other things; like Ceria and keeping her safe. They had allowed me to visit, but I had fought against them for much too long to trust them fully. This much was natural, I would have to be a moron to allow them to gain my trust so easily.

I turned to one of the twenty escorts, pulling back on my horse's reins. "What do you suppose happened in there?" I asked, suddenly realizing that Ceria could have been in the fire.

The boy shrugged lazily. "It's hard to say sir. A fire of sorts I guess."

"Well obviously a fire. I meant how did it start?" I shook my head. Was the boy dense? Or did he just think me a complete idiot?

"Can't say."

Helpful lad he was. But did it really matter? I just needed to know that Ceria was still safe, if you could call being in Acoteg and surrounded by enemies safe. I shook off the thought and looked down at Talon, who was sitting beside my horse and staring straight ahead, eyes alert.

I kicked my horse into a trot and started towards the palace, trying to seem less tense than I really was. Think of Ceria. You're going to see her and that's all that matters right now. I told myself sternly. It didn't have the desired effect.

A lot had happened to Marlon in a short period of time. He had barely started peeling potatoes before Emilian took him to his new team. He had gone from recruit to Captain in the span of an hour. He had hoped to be made a Lieutenant, but Captain! This was almost too good. Instead of having to sneak around to find out about the defenses, he could simply ask to take a look at the defenses without arousing suspicion.

Still, Marlon wished he could have had more time to inquire among the kitchen staff about Callista. The thought of her made his mission seem distant. Hopefully she would find him soon.

...And then he brought himself back to reality. He had a mission and was deep under cover. He would have to be on his guard until the mission was complete. The men still stood in front of him expectantly.

"We'll worry about names later. Right now I want to see what our orders are," Marlon said.

"Sir, our orders are to guard the southeast side of the castle," A sergeant replied.

"Map," Marlon said. One appeared and was put on the table.

"It looks like the General has the majority of our units guarding the walls," Marlon commented.

"That's correct sir. There is no way those mercenaries are going to breach the walls," the sergeant said confidently. Marlon allowed a smile. Walls would keep out ground forces, but not his gryphons. They could fly right over Joram's troops and land inside the castle and it would be thirty minutes before any of those units could even get in position. He could probably capture the castle proper and then the troops outside could spend the better part of the day assaulting their own castle. Marlon had been concerned about how he would be able to weaken the defenses; but Joram had done all the work for him. It would be easy.

Now all he had to do was find out where the princess was kept and he would be able to call in his troops.

Callista:

After I had sorted out the new recruit, I'd gone off in search of something to do...but that damn recruit's eyes had been haunting my thoughts for a while now. I shook my head, trying to shake off the thoughts and realised I was back in the kitchens.... With the General looking down at me.

I'd been walking around for all this time only to end up back in the kitchens? Oh heck. Joram smiled at me.

"Back again, Callista?" he asked, grinning. I looked around and started backing away. Joram followed me. "Ditched the recruit already, have you?"

I hesitated, unsure of what to do. And then several things happened at once. First, the cook turned around and saw the General leaning towards me. Second, Joram opened his mouth to say something. Thirdly, the cook yelled at him to stay away from young maids and lastly, a messenger raced into the room, eyes only for the General.

"General Joram, sir," the man stuttered, heaving in a few deep breathes. "The Neseradan General is here."

Joram's attention drifted to the messenger and a slow smile lit up his eyes. "Good." The General turned away and then hesitated, looking back at me. "Maybe next time, Callista." He winked and then whisked the messenger out the door and into the hall.

His departure left me confused, and even more so, frightened. What had he been about to tell me? I didn't know, I just had to hope that it wasn't anything, well, bad.

Joram
All things considered, the fire had been dealt with quite well. Granted, the kitchens had come out a bit for the worse, but it hadn't spread much further than one or two corridors and had been extinguished before any serious damage had been done.

With that in mind, Joram had trouble seeing why Tigad was still glaring at him every time he came in sight. The castle was still standing, they had proof the plan would work… All good, really.

And he’d almost gotten to tell Callista about her father, too. He’d been looking forward to doing it, and now had seemed like the time… But no, Tathiel took priority. It just wouldn’t do to leave the man hanging. Very bad manners. “Is the king aware yet?”

The messenger shook his head. “I was going there.”

Joram sent him back with a smile. “I’ll take care of it myself. Go take care that his and his squadron are well set, we shall be there soon. And fetch Emilian as well, I believe he is still out with the recruits.”

A quick detour to the king’s rooms, and he was interrupting yet another session of paperwork-dealing. “Your Highness?” He smiled disarmingly in answer to the glare that was burning into him, sketched a summary bow and continued before Tigad could snap at him for barging in. “General Tathiel has arrived from Neserada.”

A scowl, but not directed at him for a change. “Already?”

“Afraid so, sire.”

“And he’ll want to see the princess, I presume.” No, Tigad was not happy with this.

A shrug. “They are engaged, after all, if what our little bird says is true.” A pause. “We shall just have to distract him, won’t we?”

The glare was back. “Emilian will deal with that. I don’t want you anywhere near him unless you are with either with me or Emilian.”

Joram nodded, unfazed. “We probably should go down to greet him, your highness, no?” Another smile. “If only to judge the competition you’ll have to face.”

It seemed for a moment that only distance was preventing Tigad from throttling him (again), then the stern look was back as the king rose and made his way to the door and past Joram.

“Joram. Stop talking, and heel.”

Joram did.