~Roland ✧ Chapter I~
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Though summer is now upon us, and the air is most heavy and damp, the day before us is dismally gray; no rain has fallen, yet the light of Our Lady hath regardless been shuttered behind those woolen celestial curtains. It appeareth to me a most inauspicious omen. As our visitors know Our Lady as we do, surely they should understand as well, and mind not waiting until the days grow bright once more. Coming with such haste, ignoring the signs, appeareth foolhardy at best…yet, of course, I am no king, no noble—merely a humble servant. Perhaps it is not my place to make such judgements, despite mine own knowledge.
The sounds of our retinue—of wooden wheels and horses' hooves, and those shouts of the common folk knowing they are witnessing perhaps the most extraordinary event they shall see in many lifetimes—this discordant symphony doth reverberate through the whole of the city. This affair is dreadful, disorienting; yet, I once more count myself blessed that I ride near the end of the long procession, distant from the most intense revelry—and distant from his Majesty, and his captious gaze.
Everyone within mine own carriage remains silent. I wonder if they are as uncertain as myself about these circumstances—or if they, too, are awed by what they are about to witness. I must admit that even I, for as weary as this affair maketh me, can help not but feel some wonderment about the children of the Sun, our twin kingdoms, at long last reuniting in kinship. No longer may we only meet mere merchants seeking riches; yet rather those nobler Folwêšiâns, blessed by Our Lady…Yet still, she hideth behind the clouds.
After what doth appear to me an age, our procession arriveth at the docks. To my relief, the world groweth more silent: knights and their servants enwreathe the perimeter, ensuring our visitors shall only meet men of the king. With most swiftness, we exit our carriages, and make way to a most peculiar ship, clearly much different from the others, and most distinguished by its sails as vibrant a red as Our Lady at dusk.
As those upon the ship prepare to depart, I too prepare for my duty. I should admit, these displeasing circumstances have hastily eroded the flicker of awe which welled within me… Now that the cacophony has ceased, my senses are unfortunately assaulted by a most oppressive and odious air—I must admit, never could I learn to love the scent of the sea. Soon doth my skin stick with sweat, and I almost wonder if the wax within my tablet should melt, and thus entirely negate my purpose in coming here. I shudder at the thought: if His Majesty already seeketh to make me a criminal after all, “disobedience" would be a proper reason…
Just as my thoughts grow ever more troublesome, at last His Majesty steppeth forth before our procession. Although I know such thoughts are improper, I cannot be untruthful: he looks thoroughly ridiculous. Despite the suffocating air, he still is fain to appear in his most ostentatious cloak, made of a velvet brocade of crimson and gold, and lined with a ermine pure and white but for the many black specks, and upon his head sits his most large and bejeweled crown. I suppose he means to project his own prestige and power—he did at last reunite this continent under a single lord, after all—yet, with these circumstances being as they are…surely, I must not be singular in wondering if he shall collapse from the dull heat. In this state, His Majesty turns to face us, and I notice the unfortunate sheen to his face. And thus, I raise my tablet, and the small wooden stylus, and begin to write his words as he speaketh them.
Though I record his speech faithfully, within mine own mind, I retain little of its meaning—mere inanities extolling his virtues, his great works, and so on. A fiery indignation begineth to overcome me, and I struggle to hide my grimace. That this meeting should occur at all is entirely due to the will of Our Lady, who like a weaver wove together our two courts, and allowed such disparate threads to unite even across the whole of the earth—who is he to attribute this to himself? Even if he is specially anointed by her, he remains but her servant…I cannot help but wonder if he hath always been afflicted with such pride, or if it was birthed perhaps by mine own transgression against him, or perhaps some other cause. Still, for once, I find it a blessing that the inherent character of my face is supposedly “intimidating” even at my most jovial, so that my true thoughts shall remain obscured…
After far too long, the grotesque scene ceaseth, and silence descends over our party. At last, a pair of men wearing simple, folded robes—clearly mere workmen—come and release the passageway from the ship to the dock. From further afield the ship, more steps reverberate; and soon, they make their presence known to us: the Folwêšiâns.
At the head of their procession walk two men—and many of our own men gasp in astonishment: the two are clothed in such elaborate finery, it is as though they seek to become the light of our dear Lady themselves while she lay trapped behind the clouds. Upon their heads, the men wear tall, black cloth hats, each adorned with faint patterns. However, most notably do the men wear, much like their lower companions, folded over robes; the robes of the pair, however, are of many layers, of the most splendid brocade I have ever seen—indeed, our poor sovereign appeareth nearly as a beggar beside these men, even in his ill-suited cloak. It is astonishing—what rank could these men be?
Of course, in this land, such displays are considered avaricious; while it is mine inclination to agree…yes, I see how such a display as this projecteth their power, their standing, effortlessly—not least because, despite the decoration by which they are adorned, the silk seems thin and light—proper for this season, unlike His Majesty in his furs…
Yes, this meeting must be an entirely different affair to the Folwêšiâns and ourselves…for our people, this is a meeting of equals, two kingdoms alike in standing and dignity. But for them, no—it is apparent that, within their imagination, they are merely reuniting with the rogue colony which has blighted their reputation for millennia, at last gracing it with their most esteemed presence. I frown ever further. If that is their view, I care not; yet, how I loathe the prospect of growing further entrenched in intrigues.
Now mine attention truly turneth to the men before us. The left is younger, of an average height and build, with clear dark skin, and a most noble manner to his gait; however, a weariness is he cloaked in, perhaps from the long journey at sea.
The man to the right is elderly, bearing short silver-gray hair and a well-aged face, although he still appeareth to be in very fine health; unlike his companion, he looks rather unperturbed by the arduous voyage. He is quite a conspicuous fellow, in part due to his notable stature and slight build; yet, most of all, it is his mien—along with bearing not the weariness of his young counterpart, neither does he hold the same nobility. His dark eyes are open wide in childish wonderment; if mine eyes deceive me not, it would seem his lips do form a slight grin. Perhaps it is unbecoming, but I find it charming… While for the sake of decorum it is best that those of our class show not such simple sincerity, there regardless remaineth something admirable about it—after all, even I myself have, regrettably, not been above using the tenets of respectability to shroud my sins…
Once the two men are upon the shore, they bow in a most curious fashion; then, the younger companion announces their arrival, who they thus travel under—apparently, a prince, although most surely a minor one. I assay to pay close attention, for his accent is thick, and unfamiliar to me. Even so, I find mine eyes wandering to his partner…the man hath now procured a tablet from his person; it would appear he is my counterpart among their party. While his younger companion remains dignified, I cannot help but note with great amusement how every emotion of this man seems to burst upon his face, like a fire which hath finally taken to its tinder. Concentration, frustration—perhaps at some error on his part—freely show upon his face. Yet most of all there is great interest, his eyes continuing to examine our people, even as his partner speaks. Most carelessly, I soon find observing this strange, frank man more interesting than my duty. After a time, his gaze, at once dark and brilliantly bright, lands upon myself. Appearing to notice mine instruments, his eyes meet mine—and thus gives he a soft, kindly smile more befitting of a young maiden than a man of his age and stature…
Bashfully I sever our gazes, and from the corner of mine eye, I notice his hand doth come to his face to stifle his laughter. Most shamefully I return to my tablet, only to haplessly notice a new voice now speaketh, this one in a foreign tongue. Looking up, I discover in horror that a man who vastly outshines the others in finery now stands before us. Though the other man had indeed moved out of his way—I scarcely noticed, too enraptured in curiosity… I wish to rush away, cover my face with mine hood; oh, how I pray none have noticed this unsightly display!
I attempt to return to my labor; yet, my thoughts remain in an unseemly disarray, and I cannot even begin to focus. Ah…it appears my fortune shall be unfavorable after all.
As this doth continue, more men—and curiously, some women too—exit the vessel, until at last all but the crew have exited. With a dour manner do I stare at my tablet, more than half of the wax perfectly clear. Frequently, this is a mere formality; often, my memory doth serve well enough…yet now, both my letters and thoughts fail. It is extraordinarily embarrassing; and now, anxiety torments me like an invisible rain which washeth over myself alone… Oh, My Lady, please keep his Majesty preoccupied with our guests—
Much to my relief, the formalities cease, and I see the Folwêšiân prince proceed alongside our sovereign. Yes, this whole affair appears increasingly farcical…while our sovereign rather dwarfs his companion in stature, the latter is most clearly the more regal of the two. With relief I sigh, and proceed to slip through the crowd like water through stones in a stream.
Erelong I return to my carriage—yet, before I may enter, an unfamiliar, spirited voice calls out to me.
“Prêzjêne bon!”—well met!
I turn on mine heel, and am soon astonished to see the strange man rushing to me, his face full of overwhelming eagerness. Before I may even mutter out a greeting in return, he doth quickly bow, and goeth on.
“I saw you with your tablet, there!”
“…Aye, I recall.”
“Are you a chronicler?”
Merely I blink, most perplexed; of course, I had not anticipated him rushing me thus—though perhaps it would have been wise, seeing his manner…yet also, I find myself rather surprised at his manner of speech. Yes, though he is a hint of that Folwêšiân accent, his speech is exceedingly easier to parse; indeed, I would say it is closer to mine own manner of speaking than that held by many on the periphery of this continent. And, likewise, he appeareth considerably more comfortable speaking our tongue than his companion. Almost would I wonder why he is not the principal interpreter, if not for his startling lack of decorum. Indeed, rather, it is astonishing he still findeth himself here despite it—yet, I imagine, I am not one to proclaim such judgements.
“For the present,” I reply.
“Oh, how wondrous!” he proclaims with a clap of his hands—and with much restraint do I remain silent, not erupting into laughter. “I am the principle chronicler for my men—might we work together? Surely it would be to the benefit of both our peoples if our tales do align, yes?”
“A-Aye, that soundeth sensible,” I stutter, quite taken aback. “Yet, ah…may I first know what to call you?”
“Oh…yes,” he gazeth away, face flushing red as a rose. “Please pardon my forwardness…you may call me Taishi Etsuo, or perhaps Etsuo—your people prefer given names, yes?”
“Indeed…” I say, increasingly confounded by this entire affair. “And I am Roland Chevalier.”
“Chevalier—you are a knight?”
“No longer, yet still the title do I keep,” I say, eyes turning to the dusty ground. “Now I am but a servant of Our Lady—although at present, I am but a chronicler, I suppose…”
“Fascinating!” he exclaimeth with such liveliness, I know not whether to be embarrassed, or swept within his enthusiasm. “May I travel with you? I have already asked His Highness, and he assented.”
“Then there is no reason not to,” I reply, yet this is partially a lie. I am unsure how much I may take of this man before I am dripping with exhaustion. Yet, I must be truthful—he certainly is a most intriguing fellow.
And…yes, if I am to continue with mine honesty—I do find a kind of comfort within his manner, so bright and sunny, a true contrast to mine own disposition. Especially with these unfavorable circumstances, once more under the nose of my former lord… Perhaps, if I am blessed, may I too come to bear a fraction of the light which radiates from him.
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