Centuries - Chapter 1.1

The palace was dimly lit, the Sun's rays still striving to crawl their way past windows and pillars and into the throne room, but already the Empress had ascended the throne, her daughter at her right hand, her husband laying soundly in his tomb. Folds of purples and reds draped over her, revealing the pride in her breast as she breathed the first breaths of morning. Her eyes, a flicker of intense amber, rested on a single woman, who knelt before the queen on trembling knee. The marble was cold under her fingers, which were, bloodied knuckles and all, fighting to support the brunt of her weight.

"We ask for provision," she said, her voice rasping in her dry throat. "Should your Majesty grant it, we seek refuge wherever it can be spared, until we're strong enough to move on with the rest of the Sendorai." Her accent was thick, but the language was fluent.

"How large is your party, nomad?" The empress Hares clicked her nails against the cool stone of her throne as she studied the girl before her. An air of defeat was so thick about her, a desperate tiredness so pungent in her voice, that neither Hares nor her daughter, Maesa, could call their royal professionalism to ignore it. A silence hung in the room for a moment, tangible enough that Hares nearly regretted asking such a question.

"Eight," came the reply, barely audible. "Four dragons were found after the raids, and one of our women is with child. Her husband was among those taken back to Kiran."

There was another pause. It was known that the Se Ador clan was large, for the Sendorai people. At last count, they'd numbered one-hundred and ten. Hares sent a side-long look at her daughter, whose eyes, a deep, gentle brown, had been stirred to compassion. Her brow frowned, though her lips remained poised, and a dark hand held her chin, as though she wished to conceal her horror behind her fingers. She caught her mother's eye, giving her head the slightest of dips. It was her turn to speak on the matter, her mother's silence communicated to her.

"Refuge will be granted," Maesa said, her tone carrying authority that mixed with her gentleness. "A counsel will be held this afternoon to decide how the dragons and their keepers will be accommodated. In the mean time, our stable-keepers will watch them, and you and your clan will have my own maids at your service." She rose, her turquoise robes fluttering about her. She raised one arm, bent at the elbow, and opened her hand. "Send for General Aresh; she shall be their escort to the North Wing."

Hares remained seated, though she gestured with her arm as her daughter had done, and repeated the order. Her voice carried through the dome-shaped hall, and two guards standing near the threshold to the rest of the palace bent at their waists, left arms raised in a similar manner, before turning to fetch the requested.

Maesa waited for them to depart, and then descended the steps leading to the thrones and knelt before the woman, tucking two fingers under her chin. She lifted her head, her free hand resting on the wool covering the new charge's shoulder. "You may have whatever is necessary for your people to move to their northern grounds. The Sendorai people, as a whole, have mended and provided for far more than eight of our own soldiers; it would be our honour to return the favour, and our shame to refuse you."

The woman smiled, despite a split lip, considering but not daring to rest a hand over the princess's. "Thank you," was all that passed her lips before her throat constricted, words catching on the grief that blocked her lungs. A tear was on her cheek, and neither woman made a move to whisk it away.

"What's your name?" Maesa asked, her voice soft. "It would not do to call you nomad, if you're to live among us."

"Ora." The woman inhaled deeply, wincing as though it had pained her. "My name is Ora Se Ador."

Silence was thick on the palace that morning. The only conversation was made by whispering servants, fluttering back and forth as they went about their duties. Each had their own idea of what had happened to the Se Ador people in the days before they'd arrived in Dashaer, but all knew that their blood stained the hands of Kiran. Rumours of a long-held trade partnership between the two kingdoms being closed distressed the middle-aged, though the young remained convinced that such an ending should have come to pass long ago. Kiran was a tyrant of a kingdom, and their exports were ripped from starving hands and hard labour.

Many donations and gifts were brought by such young folk, laid down by the palace gates for the eight remaining Se Ador; clothes, both of Dashaerene and Sendorai make, along with dried foods to aide in their impending journey north, rope, and lost provision, had been offered up until eight alone wouldn't be able to use all of what was given, and servants and guards alike had been busied themselves transporting the goods.

The gifts were brought to the North Wing unspoiled by the Dashaerenes, left outside the door of the House of Hashan where the Se Ador were being housed. The House was located at the end of the palace's North Wing, dedicated to the families of the army's serving generals, and had been given to Aresh's great grandfather many years before. Aresh was a third-generation general, after both her father and her mother, and accommodated the wary nomads as though they were her own soldiers. Baths had been drawn, and beds had been abandoned by her three brothers and four sisters, who had piled into Aresh's chambers until more convenient arrangements could be made. She had food brought to them, in quantities greater than Ora's people could eat, and those practised in relaxation medication had been brought from all corners of the city to relieve at least a fraction of the trauma the group had endured from the Kiranese.

Ora herself remained close to the group's escort, too numb and too tired to be part of the bustle. The woman in question, one Low General Aresh, was a tall, sturdy woman with thickly muscled arms and legs, and black hair drawn back in tight curls, shaved close to her dark head. She wore casual palace armour, the metal plates on her shoulders engraved with symbols of her family's war feats. The rest of her arms were bare, save for thick leather braces that shielded the arteries on her wrists. Her neck was half-covered in similar armour, a brilliant crimson tunic falling to her thighs, hiding the form of a body Ora assumed to be quite buff. Her legs were covered entirely in thick leathers, her feet concealed in heavy boots. She bore a belt of daggers, each tucked into a sheath that any not trained by Dashaer's army would take an age fumbling with to get open. Aside from the belt, Ora could see no weapon, and the soldier wore no helmet.

She found Aresh's presence soothing, despite the intimidating garb; the lower-ranking general was surprisingly lighthearted, and her boisterous laugh and quick wit put the smaller woman's nerves at ease, as did Aresh's fluency in Sendora, and her knowledge of the Se dialect.

Conversation was veering towards an exchange of cultural trivia, the Sendorai's side of which Aresh was also surprisingly knowledgeable of. She knew what the Helekiy were, and what the patterns dyed and embroidered into the sleeves of Ora's tunic meant; tales of tracking and trapping prowess, of motherhood and of her standing with her clan.

"I travelled with one of the Se clans for four cycles midway through my training," she explained, leaning a shoulder against a white stone wall. They were Aresh's family chamber-hall, on the outer side of the threshold separating them from the room being lent to the wary. "Could say I've got restless feet. They don't much care for being in any place for very long." She chuckled, a deep rumble in her chest. "My parents were none too pleased with me for it."

Ora could barely bring herself to smile, but she did, leaning her back against the wall next to Aresh. She barely thought about it; just sunk until she was sitting on the tile, her tired head against the cool of the stone and her legs curled up to her chest. "I suppose earning the rank of Low General before you turned twenty-six didn't help you at all?"

Aresh broke out into a full laugh, her grin sparkling in her eyes when the sound finally calmed. "Oh, Lord Iyno, Ora. I'm their favourite child for it!"

Both of the girls laughed, though Ora's was still softer. Still less convincing. She gazed down at the tiles, tracing the silver lines against the white with the toe of her shoe. "I'm ashamed to say I know very little of Dashaerene etiquette, past what's expected out on the farms."

Aresh waved a dismissive hand, the sound of footsteps padding from around the corner catching her attention. "We'll work on it. There's much to teach, and much time to teach it in."

The footsteps revealed the walker before Ora had time to respond; Princess Maesa turned the corner, seeming to glide over the stones. Her robes had changed, now all blue and gold silks, draped around her as one of the Sendorai's wedding togas would be. She had her hair wound up, piled on her head and embezzled in golden beads and brightly-coloured gemstones. Silver chains hung from her hair, some joining hoops of gold that hung from her ears, others draped around her neck and joined up on the opposite side of her head, like a necklace.

Ora could hardly look away from her, having not been accustomed to seeing such finery, but when she did, her gaze rested on Aresh, whose own eyes watched Maesa. The corner of her mouth was turned up, her brow set in a softer position. She extended a hand when the princess was near enough, which Maesa took readily, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"I'm here only to tell the Se Ador that proper housing has been found for their dragons," she said, though her tone hinted at a thinly-veiled amusement. She spoke in the Se dialect, though it was more broken than the general's.

Aresh's eyebrows rose, and her mouth opened, but the princess continued before the soldier had a moment to. "You've been relieved of the night watch this week, General."

Aresh paused for a moment before a grin took to her mouth. "Why, thank you, M'lady.

Maesa rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand, but a grin of her own was playing her lips when she turned her attention to Ora. "Unfortunately, my guards are absolutely terrified of the beasts. As are the stable-hands." She leaned against Aresh, almost casually, and brought a hand up to toy with an onyx pendant hanging against her breast. "We may require assistance from those who have..."

"Good rapport?" Aresh filled in, after a brief pause. Her arm draped itself around the woman, fingers fiddling with a fold of fabric near the princess's hip.

"Yes, thank you." She smiled kindly at Ora. "With the dragons."

Ora nodded, gaze drifting between the two women. "We have one, especially, who may be of aide to you. I'll fetch him."

Maesa nodded, folding her hand over Aresh's against her hip. "Of course. Aresh will escort you when he's ready."

Aresh raised a brow at the princess, but said nothing as Ora turned to re-enter the chambers.