grievinglands
patreon
TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 27 (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-04-07 04:12:15 +0000 UTCChapter 27 - Partners
A lucky ballista bolt shot from atop one of the border forts was able to fell one of the lesser dragons from the sky, piercing it through the heart. The bespelled adamantine tip punching through inches of rock hard scale and thick muscle. The mages of Arastia ecstatic having acquired a vessel of indomitable power poured all of their magical might into the dragon’s now still corpse.
Slowly, like a grave flower blossoming the dark energies flowed into the great lizard’s cadaver sloughing now rotting flesh from thick pristine white dragon bone. A new nightmare was born, arising with the stench of a freshly turned grave and all the majesty of the winged tyrants of the sky. The first Bone-Dragon Vizzeks came into existence with a roar and the howl of a thousand lost tortured souls.
- On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar, circa 103 AC.
Seraphina sat before her vanity mirror in the late afternoon light, its polished surface reflecting a youthful face marred with worry. Eloise stood behind her, carefully running a comb through Seraphina’s short, golden hair. Her mother had been right, it had looked better long.
Eloise, with her own raven-dark hair cascading down like a waterfall, studied her mistress’s reflection. A faint crease of concern flickered across her face. Under normal circumstances, she would have lightly teased Seraphina for fretting over something as trivial as a ball. But this was hardly a trivial matter anymore—Seraphina’s very reputation at the Academy seemed to hang by a thread.
It had all started with a problem that should have been straightforward: Seraphina, a noble and a natural center of attention, had never wanted for suitors. Not including her personal Knights, for she did not count them as they were a given, plenty of gentlemen had rushed to offer themselves as her escort for the upcoming Academy ball. Yet Seraphina had politely turned them all down, holding out hope for a single name: Velens. His invitation was supposed to come, of course. He was the only one whose presence at her side made sense politically, not to mention, if she was perfectly honest with herself, the perfect representation of aesthetic ideal.
But the news broke like a thunderclap, delivered with false sympathy by her plump “friend,” Michelié de Montan, who took her aside after classes. The de Montan girl could scarcely hide her delighted glee at carrying such a sensational tidbit of gossip. From her she had found that Velens had asked the commoner Este Lize to the ball as some grand reward for Este’s heroic assistance in the Meridian City relief efforts.
Heroic efforts my left foot, she though to herself. And if Michelié knew that meant that no doubt the entire Academy knew.
Velens himself came to her, offering an explanation laced with excuses. He claimed he had been pressured by others into honoring Este Lize, who had shown courage during the city fires. Yet he did not look the least bit regretful. Seraphina could practically see the flicker of excitement in his eyes when he told her. The nerve of him! The smugness! It stung her pride beyond measure, leaving her reeling with fury and dismay.
Now her predicament felt dire: she had already refused a lineup of potential escorts, and no one of suitable status remained unspoken for. The most useless gowns and jewels in the world were the ones without a matching partner on one’s arm. Even the middling Water Mage, Fleur, had managed to secure a date—some count’s son who was hardly remarkable but, at least, still a count’s son. Yet here Seraphina stood, thoroughly humiliated and alone—the daughter of one a Duke, no less. For the first time, she felt utterly powerless. In that moment, her feelings became one with the original Seraphina whose body she now inhabited.
Eloise set down the comb for a moment, trying to catch Seraphina’s gaze in the mirror. A pang of pity filled her. She had never seen Seraphina look so defeated. Despite this, Eloise could not resist letting a small, impish comment slip from her lips. The tease bubbled up before she could stop herself, even though she knew it might land her in hot water. She needed to put the spark of fire back in her mistress.
“You know, Lady Seraphina,” she began carefully, “you did say once that we didn’t need men.”
Seraphina’s eyes narrowed, the dangerous spark returning to them. “No,” she corrected, voice low and taut, “those were not quite my words. I said we did not need men to choose our roles for us.”
“So you say, Lady Seraphina,” she replied with a knowing smile.
Eloise began brushing again, running the comb through Seraphina’s hair in slow, deliberate motions. The silky strands glided against the ivory, calming the tension, if only a little.
“Now, then,” Seraphina prompted, exhaling as she fought for composure, “who are you going with?”
A mischievous smile tugged at Eloise’s lips. “I made a promise to Sir Gravens,” she replied lightly, feigning nonchalance.
“Come now, Eloise.” Seraphina’s tone was edged in a brittle sort of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. Your choices here will affect your future, and he’s only a Knight…”
“Oh, my! You’re sounding like an old lady!” Eloise teased, lifting one dark eyebrow. “Besides, remember we are all supposed to set aside our titles and statuses within the Academy’s walls. He’s…” Her voice lowered with a touch of excitement, and she leaned forward to whisper, as though sharing a guilty secret. “He’s very handsome and his eyes!”
For a moment, Seraphina forgot her humiliation. A small, wry smile found its way onto her lips. “I dare say he is,” she admitted, recalling Sir Gravens’s strong features and gallant bearing. “This might be the time for a little fun, after all. You’re only young once, I suppose.”
“There you go again, sounding like an old lady!” Eloise teased, letting out a soft giggle that finally coaxed a small but genuine laugh from Seraphina.
Their shared laughter drifted through the still air of the dressing room, softening the edges of Seraphina’s bruised spirit. She might not have the perfect date, the perfect fairy-tale entrance, or the guaranteed political advantage she had planned for. But in that fleeting moment, with Eloise’s laughter washing over her and the soft brush strokes gliding through her hair, Seraphina felt just a little less alone.
Seraphina glanced at her beloved pet serpent, Cornelia, curled up on the velvet bedspread in a torpid little heap. The lines of the creature conveyed a sense of deep, dreamless rest. Under normal circumstances, Seraphina would have felt a wave of calm simply by placing her palm on the amulet around her neck and focusing on the bond that she and Cornelia shared. Yet today, no matter how hard she tried to reach the creature, Cornelia was far too lost in slumber to stir or respond.
With a weary sigh, Seraphina tried to draw comfort from the sight of her pet’s peaceful repose—but her own irritation at the unfolding events refused to settle. She found herself wishing, for perhaps the first time in this world, that she could just hide away from it all.
“You know, I do not think I want to go,” she murmured, her voice betraying a heaviness she rarely allowed herself to show. Eloise looked at her mistress, her mouth forming a perfect “O,” but before she could respond, a small knock echoed from the door.
“Come in! By that knock I know it’s you, Milly!” Seraphina half-shouted in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she prepared for yet another disturbance.
Sure enough, her maid Miriam, shuffled in. She paused to readjust her slightly askew spectacles, wiping them on the hem of her apron as though to steady herself. “Err…you have a guest downstairs, milady,” Miriam said, chewing on her lip in nervousness.
Seraphina’s brow knitted. “Who is it, Milly? Spit it out.” Her patience was wearing thin, and it showed.
“It’s Hughes, milady,” the maid replied after a short gulp. “He… He said you promised to help him with an assignment of all things.”
Seraphina flicked her hand dismissively. “Tell him to go away. I am not in the mood!” She had no interest in trivial schoolwork, least of all now.
“At once, milady,” Miriam answered obediently, bowing at the waist. She had begun to back out of the room when Seraphina suddenly lurched upright, as if seized by a new thought.
“Actually! Wait!” Seraphina’s cheeks colored slightly at her outburst, but she recovered with a regal toss of her short golden hair. “I will receive him in the lounge. Tell him to wait. I need to make myself presentable.”
Miriam hesitated, glancing uncertainly at her mistress’s flustered expression, but she bowed her head once more. “Very well, milady,” she said, then vanished into the corridor to relay Seraphina’s change of heart.
As soon as the door shut, Eloise stood and approached Seraphina, her doll-like features creased by a skeptical frown. “Lady Seraphina, you can’t be serious,” she whispered..
Seraphina arched a perfect golden eyebrow, her lips curling into a slow, cunning smile. “Why, Eloise, beggars cannot be choosers,” she replied, her tone somewhere between resignation and delight. “And I do believe Hughes will be perfect.”
Eloise drew back slightly, confusion evident in her wide, tilted eyes. “I don’t quite understand… He’s a commoner.”
Like you were not too long ago, Seraphina muttered in her mind.
“Precisely,” Seraphina purred, as though that very fact made him even more desirable for her plan. “It makes things less political, you see. Besides, Hughes asked me some time ago, before all this business, if I would attend the ball with him. And, I, of course, accepted his invitation over Velen’s.” A glimmer of triumph lit her eyes, making Eloise swallow hard.
“Oh… I see,” Eloise murmured, the truth dawning on her. She studied Seraphina’s face, seeing at once the renewed spark of mischief in her gaze.
Seraphina squared her shoulders, already imagining the scene. If Velens could cause a stir with the lowborn Este Lize, then Seraphina could make an even more pointed statement by choosing Hughes. She glanced again at Cornelia, still curled up in a contented coil on her bed, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding around them. A faint smile tugged at her lips. She did not know what Velens had been planning, but two could play at that game.
