I AM
AMYEM
English Major, lifelong learner, impractical perfectionist.
Painting: Iris Fields - Paul Chester
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Painting: Iris Fields - Paul Chester
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It was my fourth night of erratic insomnia. Scattered pieces of parchment with illegible scribbles decorated my floor, my desk, my chairs. They were full of tactical plays, field maps,and enemy movements within the last span. Half of my bookshelf was on my floor, old tomes and mythical texts opened to one page or another, the ink of my notes blotting through the pages. Every night, moonlight filtered through the small window above my bed, creating a thin block of light that moved slowly throughout the night, reminding me that rest was passing by without me. But even when I hid under the covers, my stomach stirred violently with paranoia and fear of the nightmares that would follow. The days blurred into nights, distorting my grip on what day it was. I often didn’t know what time it was until the church bells sang their good mornings in the distance. The sun would come up slowly, and I would simply move my training and my studying from my small flat in the Low Ridges to the Battle Room and training grounds within the confines of the elegant castle that perched in the middle of the Upper Ridges.
But that night, that fourth night, I was sitting in my main chair in front of my desk, surrounded by pale pieces of parchment and bottles of ink. I just sat quietly, not sure where reality began and ended. I could feel the vibration of the medallion tucked away beneath the floorboards, my hand throbbing from the phantom pain from so many years ago of tearing open my skin to accept its offer. The silence, and the reverie, was disrupted with a raucous knock that rattled the door. I looked to the small window above my bed that used its moonlight to show where the world stood in time. It was early, before any roosters or church bells had awoken. My feet grounded on the cold floor, creating a quiet thump thump thump as I made my way to the door. I wrapped my robe tightly to my body to prepare for the incoming burst of cold that would come as soon as I opened the door. The gust of cold air that would have swung in with the door was blocked by two tall, thick bodies that were illuminated by the lantern attached to the wall outside. Rune looked almost petrified at my appearance. His gaping mouth that produced no sound shut quickly before he said, “The King requested you in the War Room.” A pause. “And make yourself presentable.” I rolled my baggy eyes before shutting the door and slipping into my tunic and cloak, pulling my boots up high to my shins. Presentable at such an early hour without notice was laughable, I thought as I slipped on my gloves and pulled the door open, stepping into the cold, wintery streets of Ostia. Giving the War Room such a title was funny to me. All it really was was a large room decorated with ornate oak cabinets, chests, and tables. Large velvet olive-colored curtains hung from the few windows, blocking any trace of sunlight that could filter through the glass. The dark paneled walls of the room made it feel even smaller, and the lack of lights and exquisite lounge chairs made it seem more like a sophisticated brothel than a place to plan murders. The walk to the castle was quiet save for the crunching of our feet against the icy snow. Rune tried to make conversation, tried to cover his concern with indifference in front of the stranger that escorted the Captain of the Guard and the King’s Jack of All Trades. My general attitude of being on the castle grounds turned me bitter and resentful. On the training grounds, or the streets in the Low or Mid Ridges, even in my own flat, it almost felt like I wasn’t a captive. I was just an unfortunate soul who lived in one of the many hubs of King Rudolph’s iron grip. The moment my foot crossed the threshold of the wooden bridge that spanned the distance between the entrance and the large front door of the castle, my stomach turned sour, my thoughts unkind. I was no longer innocent; instead I was the King’s shadow. So, I was glad when we entered the War Room, with the familiar wide table with the map of the continent I’ve loved stamped with wooden pawns and ships all across it now the topic of discussion rather than myself. I lingered by the table, studying the map and all my latest plans that unfolded within the past span. All of the surveying, the studying, the planning that I had spent my time paying off in the form of the Ostian colors of dark green, gold, and black. Those three colors of cavalries, men, and wyverns that occupied nearly every town, village, city, and province, stood like giants across Arvia. Even despite the many stalemates of both battle and will that we held in King Holland and Silas’ territories, once spring came and our resources replenished, the tides would turn in our favor. It would be over, a voice whispered in my head. But not for everyone. The pride didn’t last long as my eyes drifted southward to the large section of men stationed in my little portion of Arvia, the port town I loved and the one I was stolen from. I gripped one of the black wooden figures in my hand. I felt that stirring rip itself apart in my stomach, replacing any pride there was to be had with guilt. The King arrived moments afterward in his obsidian uniform, his breast ladened with medals and stars, a large green scarf with gold lining pinned from his hip to the opposite shoulder, clasped with a golden eagle pendant. “Captain Marlon,” he said to Rune as he approached the head of the map. “Madame Lovett.” I nodded reverently in recognition. “I will go right to the matter of business.” King Rudolph said. He thoughtfully paced around the room before grabbing a stick of incense and lighting it from one of the candles that adorned the wall. He placed the stick in a tray that sat in the middle of his desk. “We need something to our advantage before the end of winter.” His Majesty said slowly. “At our last conference, Madame Lovett suggested the undisputed territory of Griften’s Rift, right….here.” He took a pointing stick and smacked it on the map. The location mentioned was a narrow and empty valley between two large mountains. It served as a free and neutral zone to allow safety for merchants and other travelers. I had never traveled too far outside of the city, mainly because of my obligation to Queen Alessandri. I didn’t know much about Griften’s Rift, but Rune did. “She suggested this due to its neutrality, location, and terrain. By securing this difficult and rough stretch of valley within the badlands, we will be able to enlist more people, and push forward into Silas’ territory.” “They still haven’t bothered to take it?” Rune put his hands on his hips. “I believe they are touting the nonsense of respecting neutral land. All that means is that we must seize the opportunity.” King said, unable to contain his poisonous excitement as his voice emphasized every syllable. “Which is why you both will travel to scout the location. It is quite far and unfamiliar to our men from what I’ve gathered. You will leave in three days, and I want you back within ten so we can march before the season ends.” Rune spoke up, “Ceathlyn can’t leave. Queen Alessandri needs her.” The King gave him a look and, then looked at me. “You have no need of concern for Madame Lovett, Rune Marlon. She will join you - it is of utmost importance that our best tactician knows the land before sending our men to chance their lives.” he paused before repeating, “You will leave in three days.” I did not lift my eyes from the map. I felt a mixture of excitement and fear. I would leave. I would leave the city. But only to return to this hold. I wondered how long I could draw this trip out, and how I could plan to never return. Caught as if I was wondering this out loud, the King said my name. The others had been dismissed, leaving me alone with the King. “What about Queen Alessandri?” I asked, masking my feelings with indifference and confidence. “She will be fine.” he said reluctantly. “She told you to do this.” I said with no response. “Why?” The King sighed and sat in the large chair behind his desk. “Alessandri presented a very...convincing argument.” he lit a cigar from his chair, puffs of smoke thickening the air around us. “Things are worse than you see, Ceathlyn. We win this war, then she can safely travel to the Goddess’ shrine with your company and blessing. She will be saved, healthy, and our family can finally exist and live on with an heir. She has proposed that once she is healed, we let you go. But it starts by breaking through Griften’s Rift.” I felt my feet glue to the ground. “Do you understand?” “I do.” I swallowed. “You have not failed us yet.” I don’t remember how I left the War Room and found myself in the hallway where Rune was waiting for me. I didn’t remember picking up my feet and operating my legs, or even opening the door. But when I saw Rune, I smiled.
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