Synnove remembers a dream about drowning, and then being awake, and not awake. Being herself, and not herself. She would wake up to the smell of fresh flowers and then fall asleep to a sting of a thorn.
For the past four years, Synnove has been living with a nagging feeling scratching at the back of her head, the way someone does when they’re questioning themselves whether they had left the oven on before leaving the house, or if they had already fed their pet goldfish, or if they had taken their daily medication or not. Did they miss something somewhere? Did they forget something important?
That couldn’t be it, is what Synnove would have answered if she was asked those types of questions. She couldn’t have forgotten anything of importance, because he had been the sole occupant of her mind these past few years. His name, or at least what he allows her to call him, is the first thing she would call out to when she wakes up, and his missing face is the last thing she wishes to see before she drifts off to sleep.
“Master…”
The Shahjahadians has a beautiful saying that can best describe what Synnove has been experiencing for the past four years. ‘Reminiscing when awake, unsatiated after eating, arid after bathing, restless after sleeping…’
Okay, maybe that saying doesn’t sound as exquisite when translated using the common language used by most people in the Grandiel Continent, but then again, not many beautiful Shahjahadian proverbs and sayings can survive the butchery of being translated into another tongue.
Anyway, today is just like any other day. Synnove would wake up and by some weird reflex call out for her master as if to summon him. The girl with the long flowing golden hair and green eyes spends a few seconds looking up at the ceiling while still lying in her warm bed that oddly smell of flowers. After an eternity has passes, she gets up and walks over to the window sill to do her daily morning routine, checking her trap. There, as usual, a blueberry muffins sits on a small white saucer plate beside an open window, unmolested.
Synnove sighs. No luck again today, just like the hundreds upon hundreds of days that have passed by before this. After bathing and having a quick breakfast, she heads out to the training center to train, exercise, spar, anything to keep her mind and body occupied. Or else she will go crazy thinking about him.
Even her skirt-chasing father who usually doesn’t show any care about his various children had express some concern about Synnove’s wellbeing. Her mother, the masterful tactician who could control thousands of lives on the battlefield like pieces on a chessboard, is also stumped on how to deal with the melancholic that had infected her daughter.
“Well at least she’s no longer wearing that damn maid uniform.” her mother would secretly confess to her father on the rare, once in a blue moon, nights they would spend together. Anyway, Synnove’s parents did what most parents would do, they made it worse. Her father invited her to dine with him one night, an occasion that both parent and child rarely do together. The crown prince of the Jazwin Kingdom tried giving his daughter a heart-to-heart talk during dinner time, something about “There are other fish in the sea.” and that she shouldn’t be so hung-up about “the one that got away.” This resulted in Synnove throwing a literal fish to his father’s face, the said fish being the poached blue trout (cooked with vegetables and broth, served with a hollandaise sauce on the side) that they were having for dinner. Lesson learned, her father steered clear of his daughter’s affair onwards.
Synnove’s mother was much trickier to handle. She tried playing the matchmaker and set her daughter up with the sons of the various distinguished generals in her service. After relentless pressure from her mother, the girl with the long flowing golden hair reluctantly caved in and agreed to at least see them at a place of Synnove’s own choosing. That place of course, is the training center.
“You said you’d meet them!”
“And I did, didn’t I?”
“Then why are you braiding your hair into pigtails?”
“Because my hair is long and I don’t want my opponents grabbing them while we’re fighting.”
“They are distinguished gentlemen from great social standings with good manners and valor! They will not pull your hair.”
“Well they should, if they know what I like.”
“Synnove!”
“Don’t kink-shame me, mother.”
“…”
“And besides, you’re the one who taught me…”
“Taught you what?”
“You do not truly know someone until you fight them.”
The girl with the golden braided pigtails hair battled all of them and won, of course. Even against opponents twice her size. Even against skilled opponents who fought seriously and tried to the best of their abilities to win. Even when it’s two against one. She fought, valiantly and unyieldingly. She fought them off until she couldn’t lift her arms and her fists bled. Then she fought some more.
Synnove wouldn’t let the fact that they were bigger, stronger, faster than her get in the way of her beating them. She couldn’t let them defeat her, she wouldn’t allow it. She had to show them that she was exceptionally above and beyond them. More importantly, she had to show him, just in case he was secretly watching from the shadows.
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In the afternoon, as per her daily routine, Synnove would take a carriage from the palace and visit the town in the adjoining area. Her destination, a bakery shop located near a riverbank. In a town as big and as populated as this, there are many bakeries. But this particular bakery is a special and unique existence, it is the only place that sells blueberry muffins, and only at a specific time and limited amount. The blueberry muffins were not a hot-selling item, but Synnove paid enough coins to make sure its popularity is known far and wide.
Synnove sits at her reserved seat at a café across the street from the bakery, a small river runs parallel to them. A waiter comes up to her side and serves her usual drink without being asked to, a cup of tea with a slice of lemon. There, from her seat, Synnove’s gaze never left the entrance of the bakery. Her sharp green eyes would watch the people entering and leaving the place, never once going to the bathroom or taking a sip from the cup of tea that is getting colder and colder in front of her.
Rain or shine, in sickness and in health, that has been her activity for the past four years.
And just like predicted, the day ended like the ones before it, a bust. Synnove sighs. The sun is getting low and the bakery is making preparations to close shop. The girl with the long flowing golden hair gets up from her chair and stretches. She puts a small silver coin on the table and proceeds to leave the café and move towards the bakery.
Just as Synnove is about to cross the street, a carriage nearly runs her down. She didn’t even hear it coming. Synnove had to use her martial arts reflexes to avoid getting hit but she still ends up falling butt first on the sidewalk. The carriage carries on moving forward, oblivious to the fact that it had nearly struck down someone. Then another carriage follows behind it, and another, and another…
As she watches the procession of carriages travelling in front of her, Synnove, while still sitting down butt first on the sidewalk, is holding an internal debate. Should she just end it? Put her out of her own misery. It would rather be a mercy than continuing on like this. No, she mustn’t. He might still come back for her, she should try to survive until then.
But if she does decide to end it, how would she go about it? Throw herself in front of a moving carriage? Nah, she would probably survive that if her head managed the miraculous feat of escaping any injury. The river running beside the bakery and café looks like a good place to drown oneself, clear running water. But children are known to play on the embankment downriver and Synnove has no desire to traumatize them if she washes ashore. Swan dive out of her bedroom window? Synnove doesn’t want to traumatize the palace maids and servants either, she couldn’t do that to them. Maybe to her parents and a few step siblings, but not to the workers in the palace. They have been kind to her these past few years and treated her well.
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And as quickly as the dark thoughts entered her head, Synnove banishes them to the farthest corner of her mind. The girl with the long flowing golden hair stands up, brushes the dirt from her dress and crosses the street towards the bakery but making sure to look both ways this time.
Synnove enters the bakery and greets the seller, a young man who has a toothy grin. The young man’s face lit up at Synnove’s arrival, as if he had been waiting for her presence the whole day.
“Hello Kyle.”
“Good evening, miss.”
“How was business today?” asks Synnove as she hands him a small purse full of bronze coins.
“A bit slower than usual. It’s a few days before payday after all. Not many people can afford the luxury of baked goods after their coin purses dried up near the end of the month.” replies Kyle while handing the girl a bag full of unsold pastries, various flavored breads, and muffins.
Synnove would distribute the food to the homeless, the poor, and the beggars while on the way back to the palace. But she would make sure to keep a blueberry muffin for herself. That one, she will leave out on a white saucer plate near her open window.
“Any takers for the bluberry muffins.”
“A few. One or two bankers on the way home from work. Some elderly couples. Oh, and a young boy.”
Synnove blood runs cold.
“What boy? I didn’t see one entering this afternoon.”
“Oh, he entered right before you did and left just as quickly. You must have missed h…”
Before the bag full of baked goods even hit the floor of the bakery, Synnove is already outside on the sidewalk looking up and down the street. No sign of the aforementioned boy. Left or right? She grits her teeth and turns left. A gut feeling guides her decision making.
It only takes a few seconds of hard running before Synnove comes to a stop, the small river that lies beside the bakery and café obstructs her travel. There, at the end of her journey, she sees a sight that makes her heart leap with joy and delivers a gut punch to the stomach at the same time.
Across the small river, the frantic girl could see the silhouette of her beloved master. There’s no mistaking it, that’s him. He could be mixed together in a sea of a million people and she still could pick him out from the crowd. Her master has his back turned against her and is in the midst of walking away from her. How? How did he managed to cross the small river without getting his clothes wet?
Synnoves has no time to solve that riddle, a bigger conundrum faces her at the moment. The nearest crossing, Brandywine Bridge, is half a mile upriver. She would never make it in time, the bridge is located too far. Her master could disappear by the time she makes the roundabout journey to reach the opposite shore.
Jump in the river and swim across? It’s doable and definitely a lot faster. But Synnove has this sinking feeling that if she takes her eyes off her master even for a moment while swimming, the boy is as good as gone.
Synnove is left with only one possible option. She says a quick prayer to the gods and all the deities that has ever existed, please take pity on this poor wretched soul, and shouted
“MASTER!”
Whatever gods or deities listening at the moment must have heard Synnove’s prayer granted it, because the boy stops mid-stride. He then slowly turns and faces Synnove.
Her master.
He was as beautiful as the day she lost him. Four years has passed since they have parted ways and his appearance hasn’t changed a bit. He still look like the first time she saw him, bursting through the dining hall in the North Hall to announce the arrival of the apocalypse all those years ago.
A moment of silence passes between them. Synnove half-expected him to go through one of his (in)famous long rants to explain his absence. For example, how he went to the store to get milk and somehow lost his bearings and was unable to return. Or maybe a portal swallowed him up before teleporting him to an alternate universe and he had to go through hell and high water until he could find his way back to her.
She would have forgiven him while he was still in the middle of his longwinded explanation, maybe even forget about the vow she secretly swore to herself (the one where she would chop off both his legs to prevent him from accidently wandering off again), maybe…
But his reply was a thundering and disappointing
“Hello Synnove.” and nothing else.
Synnove hears something inside her breaks.
“No, no. Don’t.”
“…”
“Don’t do that.”
“…”
“I’ve been looking for Master for four years, and you’re gonna come at me like we just saw each other last night? That’s what you’re gonna do?”
“…”
Synnove raises and puts both her hands on her head, half-resting her hands there and half-pulling her blond hair.
“What did I… What did I think?”
The boy’s mouth seems to be saying something but Synnove has blocked off and muted any sound. To her, the answer she wishes to hear as to why her master has left her for so long is no longer needed. To Synnove, those are just words coming out of his mouth, mere empty shells. No weight to them. No consideration they may be of some of value.
The boy’s lips continues moving but the girl doesn’t hear him as she continues talking to no one in particular while wearing a strained smile.
“What did I think, that you were gonna be happy to see me, I guess.”
“But Synnove…”
Her master’s words finally reached her.
“What?”
“I did saw you last night.”
“…”
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Last rewind the clock back to some time ago
As Devlin turns a corner in one of the many hallways in the mansion, the young aide comes face to face with a peculiar sight. The boy, the one who recently had become the heir to the young aide’s beloved master Ser Derek Acanthus, is standing still like a statue in the middle of the hallway.
Devlin quietly approaches the boy from the side, virtually no audible sounds of footsteps can be heard from the young aide’s feet. The personal assistant to Ser Derek finally arrives and stops to join the boy in admiring a large painting that hangs on the wall.
If the boy had noticed Devlin’s arrival, he made no indication to show it. The boy is still starring at the large painting hanging in front of him. Devlin decides to break the silence by initiating a conversation with, what in near future most certainly would be, the head of the Darkthus Company and Devlin’s next master and employer.
“Captivating, isn’t it?”
“I guess so…” says the boy disinterestedly.
“It always makes me feel a bit entranced, looking at a battle scene, even if it’s just an oil painting. Men fighting and killing each other. Laying down their lives for a cause that they may or may not believe in. Tragic, but beautiful at the same time. It’s like watching an ancient grand temple burning, wouldn’t you say?”
“…”
“What do you see?”
“A whole lot of people dying. Did Joze make it to the healer in time?” asks the boy, all the while his eyes are still glued to the painting like it was the only thing that exists in the world right now.
“Yes, fortunately for us. Unfortunately for him.”
“Good. I hate to lose my newfound older brother so soon. Never had any siblings before, so I’m looking forward to the new experience of having one. Let’s see what’s that’s about.”
“Where’s your maid, Synnove?”
“I asked her to escort my newfound father to his room to rest. It seems today’s event has left him a little worn out and he wants to recover his strength for dinner tonight.”
“By the way, allow me to congratulate you on your windfall. And may I offer a piece of advice to go alongside my congratulation?”
“You may.”
“Since you have acquired a new name, that identity entitles you to a new beginning. Today, you should close the door to the past, open the door to the future, take a deep breath, step on through and start a new chapter in your life.”
“Ah, but I’m still not finish the chapter I’m currently on. And my mother always taught me to finish what I started.”
“You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one.”
“To you, it might be a slow burn with an uneven pace but for me, it’s a real page turner. Hard to put down, really.”
*sighs “Anyway, to wrap it up, now and forever, may we as a family never encounter grief and sorrow.”
“Nothing lasts forever. So we must all make preparations for the eventuality of when we kick the bucket. Speaking of which, can you prepare for me the items written on this bucket list of mine?” the boy hands out a folded piece of paper to the personal aide.
“You haven’t been an heir for a whole day and you’re already ordering me around.” smiles Devlin playfully. The personal aide takes the folded paper from the boys’ left hand and begins reading it. Gradually, the smile on Devlin’s face begins to disappear.
“Well this certainly is an odd request…”
“In case you’re wondering, the evening dress is not for me to wear but for Synnove. I’m hoping she would join dinner tonight as a guest rather than my maid.”
“…”
“Is there a problem? I thought an organization as established as this is bound to have one or two evening dress laying around that can fit a young girl.”
“Oh no no. I’m sure we can find something that the beautiful Miss Synnove Ciro won’t be ashamed to wear.”
“Then why the hesitation?”
“How about we start with your requirement for knives of various shapes and sizes?”
“Fine. If you guys are too tightfisted about your properties, then let me borrow just one. That is, if you can spare it, you stingy bastards.”
“As well as the unspecified length of rope?”
“I’m thinking about taking rock climbing as a hobby.”
“You wrote here that you want a rope that’s, and I quote ‘strong enough and long enough to tie a grown man down.’”
“Those kind of rope makes the best rope for climbing mountains. I’ve lost many good friends due to faulty ropes of dubious nature.”
“Not to mention the various drugs, medicines and bandages.”
“Haven’t you been listening? Rock climbing is a dangerous sport and should not be taken lightly without serious preparations. We don’t want any mountaineering incident when we can easily prevent them now, do we?”
“You wrote here that you want sufficient medical supplies to stop a grown man from bleeding out.”
“Okay, if you’re going to question every request I make, then I guess I’ll just have to take my business elsewhere.”
“Why would you need so many knives for rock climbing?”
“To fight off the mountain lions of course! Good Gods Devlin. Try to think it through.”
*smiles wryly “Never mind, I’ve been in the business long enough to know a help-someone-kick-the-bucket list when I see one. So, who are we arranging a mountaineering incident exactly?”
“We? What ‘we’? There’s no ‘we’. Do not try to smooth your way into my ‘we’ inner sanctum. You’ll have to buy me a drink first.”
“…”
“Seriously, get a few drinks in me and you’ll find the journey to my inner sanctum to be much smoother.”
*sighs “My mistake, so who are you arranging a mountaineering incident exactly?”
“That is for me to know and for you to obsess over.”
“Fine, keep your secrets. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Or when the next chapter comes out.”
“What?”
“What?”
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