An Antivan Tale [Myles]

[shizukahotd]

It was a terribly hot day and Lucretia had been on and off the road for weeks. While at the palace, Lucretia’s guard Keri had heard some unnerving new about a possible attempt on Luci’s life. Whether it was true or not was yet to be seen, but Keri had convinced her that a small “vacation” would do her some good. Some vacation this was! She couldn’t believe that her own personal guard would do something this cruel. The small caravan, really only consisting of Keri, herself, and a handful of servants and guards, had been travelling a lengthy ways to get to their destination. At this point they were somewhere about a week away from Antiva City. Lucretia had no idea where they were and the entire place seemed dingy and earthy to her. She was starting to believe EVERYTHING Kieran had said to her was a lie, but Luci was reassured over and over that this trip was necessary.

It was midday and the sun was still beating down as hot as wood on a fire. Luci was shaded a little but the large carriage she was riding in. This was the only barter she was able to make with Keri in order to take the journey. Unfortunately, although it provided sufficient shade for Lucretia, it also was well adorned and attracted to much attention. This kept everyone on their toes, except Luci herself. She sat languidly barely able to feel a breeze as they rode along. She had put on a long white dress to try and ward off the sun better than her usual black wardrobe. The dress rested on the top of her chest not touching her shoulders, which was to Lucretia’s advantage, but reached down past her feet. It was wrapped in several manners but was free enough for her to hike it up her leg a little. And although her neck was free of cloth, large golden jewelry in the shape of various flowers adorned it and elsewhere on her body. She reached to fan herself off, but sweat still dripped over the metal and gems.

Just as she thought she was going to pass out, the clouds created a dark shadow overhead and the carriage came to an uproarious halt. Luci heard hollering outside but was far to frightened to look out. As she waited she soon heard a terrifying clang that sounded of steel hitting steel and then several arrows stuck into the side of her carriage. As she heard the thuds of the arrows hitting wood her heart jumped and she scrambled to run out of her safe spot. Luckily Keri was right outside and grabbed her as they started running. Men were chasing them both as the others stayed to fight the attackers that were at their heels.
”You have no idea what you’re doing!!”[/i] Keri screamed angrily at the men. To Luci these men looked like Crows, just as Keri was, but since Keri was the only one she had ever met, there was no way to know for sure right now. Keri stopped in front of Luci, slicing her blade through a man’s throat, spraying specks of blood on Luci’s white dress. Keri then turned and whispered, ”Run…run as fast as you can and I will catch up with you soon. We will meet up somewhere so do not worry.” As she said this she was gone and running toward her next enemy.

Lucretia took Keri’s advice and started running. She was not particularly fast of fit but her fear was driving her. As she ran nothing went through her mind. Sweat dripped everywhere, dirt and blood covered her dress, and large tears started across the cloth. She had been running for what seemed like forever, and just as she felt as if she were going to collapse, she saw salvation. A man was pulling a cart down the road just where Lucretia was crossing. She could not make out his face well, but she was not about to be picky.

”Please Help!! I need your assistance!!” She shouted loudly waving her hands at the man.

[Myles]

What a gloriously lazy sort of day it was! Myles chuckled and stretched out lengthwise along the seat of his rickety little cart. He draped the reigns across his midsection and didn’t pay them any further mind. He and this horse had a good thing going, it had trod this slow, plodding route towards Antiva City a thousand times before, and so long as it kept to the well worn path, it could amble along as languorously as it pleased. The horse was not entirely fond of Riders, the oddly shaped, naked creatures that presumed to control its life, but as far as they went, this one wasn’t half bad. The man child wasn’t nearly as stupid as the rest, he didn’t use the lash, offered apples and other tasty things readily enough, and to be honest, his singing in that queer yet oddly familiar accent wasn't entirely horrific....

”Alvorada lá no morro, que beleza-
Ninguém chora, não há tristeza-
Ninguém sente dissabor!
O sol colorindo é tão lindo, é tão lindo-
E a natureza sorrindo, tingindo, tingindo....

*O Sweet dawn come up and kiss me, kiss gently-
Replace all my sorrow with beauty-
And fill up the world with joy!
The sun paints a scene so lovely, see it loves thee-
All of nature sings for thee, restores thee, and cheers thee....”

The young man’s voice rolled down the dusty roadway, a husky baritone that, while far from refined, the horse at least found generally pleasing. A smile lingered in that voice, a cheer that made the words oddly soothing, be they in Rivani or be they in Trade tongue. Myles chuckled and Myles sang, the day wearing on and on, rather dull, but quite a refreshing change of pace considering the recent events and developments in Tevinter. As feverishly as he plotted to bring the ancient nation kicking and screaming into the modern era, as much time and energy he devoted to his myriad plots, ploys, and misdirections, it was at times absolutely lovely... to have absolutely nothing to do with Tevinter. Life was simpler for a roughened, weathered, Rivani farm hand trundling down the road and enjoying the day, bound to make a delivery to the Royal Palace in Antiva City, but in absolutely no hurry to do so. This day he kept his attire plain and well worn, old boots, simple trousers, the ratty old robe converted into a vest, it was all he needed in this warm weather. Simple, it was all he need be in this warm place.

Ahhh, but this was Antiva, and a dull day in Antiva was very nearly a blasphemy. Thankfully, the nation was almost a living thing, and sought to correct this grave lull in activity, on this occasion, with a screaming young woman covered in filth. The horse blinked and came to a grinding halt, Myles blinked and sat up. Dirty, sweaty, speckled with blood, wearing a finely crafted but utterly ruined white gown, wearing enough jewels to finance a small bank, ahh, a perfect damsel in distress, how very appropriate and decidedly “Antivan.” Myles sighed, and offered the young woman a rather weary look, ”Hmmm... and I suppose this assistance involves a great many irate men with pointy weapons, and a rather sudden decrease in my life span, neh? Atcha... a wise, sensible man would roll his cart right past you.... Maker forbid anyone ever call me sensible. And hey... you said please, manners should be rewarded.”

Myles chuckled and nodded towards the now empty seat beside him, heaving a playful shrug and offering the woman a hand up, pale eyes alight with a certain slight mischief, a hunger for the foolish yet memorable.

((OOC: *this is not a direct translation of the above Portuguese lyrics, merely a reinterpretation. The original song is Alvorada by the incomparable Brazillian Samba artist, Cartola.))

[shizukahotd]

Lucretia was more than relieved that the odd man had agreed to help her out. It was obvious to her he was not from this area of the world and that he had no idea who she was. No normal person would see the Queen of Antiva and answer her in such an uncouth manner. Lucretia had never been out to see the world and could not place his accent. As a matter of fact, this was one of the first times she had even been this far from the palace. Then she thought on Keri and the others left behind and fear set in. What just happened echoed through her mind. She felt seriously vulnerable and could not believe the recent turn of events. Everything flashed through her head in slow motion. She missed her guard, she missed her security, and most of all she missed her home.

As she took a few deep breaths she finally snapped back to the reality of where she was. She was sitting on a rickety cart, looking poor with some man who she did not know. The man looked peculiar and she could not believe she had just agreed to ride with him. Looking around and at herself, she suddenly broke down in tears. She was hot, exhausted, lost and afraid. She just kept crying as hard as she could, not even saying anything to the man who had just saved her. This was a rare look for Lucretia. She looked exposed, had said please, and was not complaining about the conditions (at least out loud). Soon enough, the man next to her would know this was not her usual attitude, but for now she was broken. She continued to cry, wiping her tears with her muddy hands, creating smears of dirt on her face that just made her cry harder. Her jewelry, that she normally felt pride in, weighed heavy on her body and her soft, expensive fabrics clung to the sweat on her body. On top of all this, Lucretia had no money. She would have to rely on this man until she got home. Keri was holding on to most everything for her, since she was whining about the heat and heaviness of excess baggage…even if it was just a change purse. Now she could not even pay to stay in an inn along the road if she needed to.

[Myles]

Myles left the young woman to her tears for one long, silent moment. They did not surprise him, though he did find it fascinating to watch that bubbling over of emotion, the release that came when one’s life was not immediately in danger. Some might have found it cruel, to let a lady shed tears for even a moment, but Myles never subscribed to such philosophies. Who was he to dictate another soul’s emotions. To cap and cork such things before they ran their natural course seemed exceedingly foolish. After all, if one dammed every river, all the world would flood. A soul could drown in itself, and what a pity that would be, for this one seemed quite marvelous. The young man, not a bruxo, not a Magister, in these lands at least, turned towards the weeping, young beauty beside him, and read her with all the intrigued intensity he might offer some arcane or ancient manuscript.

The woman’s dress, now a ruin, still held the look of something finely crafted, as did the jewelry draped about her throat. A lady of wealth and means then. No local lordling or officiate could afford such splendor, and it marked the woman of some larger locale, perhaps Antiva City itself. Not a very wise girl, to travel in such impractical and glamorous attire, it attracted all the wrong sorts of attention. Hmm... not a merchant prince’s daughter then, such creatures were a tad more world weary. No... this one was not accustomed to caution or subtlety, a noble then. It fit well enough, no callouses on her fingers, body nicely proportioned and well fed, this was not a woman who laboured or broke sweat in search of her next meal. Not the wife or consort of one of the regional high lords..., no, her speech was precise, not affected by any of the local dialects and colloquialisms, even in the height of her terror. The dark, crimson splotches on that once lovely white dress spoke of violence, and the lady’s breakdown spoke of violence unexpected...

And yet she lives....

That odd point alone fascinated Myles to an extent. Perhaps it spoke more to the competency of the woman’s guard than anything else, but Myles suspected something more. The dirt on that dress, the tears and snags that riddled it, they all matched signs of a rather frantic run. If his suspicions were correct, this girl had led the sort of charmed, utterly pampered life that Myles despised, and yet she clung to her life first and foremost. Myles knew women who’d sooner die than dirty their dresses. He knew women who’d run back towards a charging beast if they lost an earring or the hinge of their necklace snapped. Such women were tiny, vapid creatures, and Myles quite frankly thought the world better off rid of them. This one though.... This girl was accustomed to beautiful things, might even demand them, but she was not defined by them. First and foremost... she chose to live. How very interesting indeed.

Myles noted the change in the woman’s grief, the terrific, initial burst of tears subsided, marking the passage of the deepest outlet of emotion. Now only the steady sobs remained, the leaking grief that could last for hours if left unattended. Myles decided, as Myles often did, that such an interesting soul need not suffer so cruelly. One hand, toughened by callouses born of years before the dagger and innumerable arcane forces, cupped the young woman’s face with a tenderness that belied its texture. Myles brushed away tears with the sweep of his thumb, offering the girl a warm grin, genuine because it sprang from the place within him that was arrogant enough to judge the value of her soul, yet kind enough to find it worthy, “Shhhh, m’lady. Rosas não choram e sangrar beleza. Roses need not weep and bleed beauty. Breathe, breathe deeply.”

Myles took a deep breath, slow and steady, exhaled, as though to demonstrate, watching for the rise and fall of the woman’s chest, ”The air is sweet, the sun is warm, the breeze is cool. You can feel these things, no? Then that is all that matters. You live, choro rosa, you live.”

The sound of gruff shouts and the distant thunder of galloping horses, stole Myles attention. His expression grew somewhat distant as he looked ahead, farther down the road, at the swiftly approaching cloud of dust. When he spoke, his words were a tad colder, calm and composed, yet insistent, ”Choro rosa... there is a tarp in the bed of this cart, covering two large chests. Crawl back there, remove it, and cover yourself. Let us see if we can keep you alive a while longer.”