Magdalene explained after Sheilah’s hushed conversation with Fialla that somehow all of the rooms beyond the great doorway were hers.

Sheilah’s head swam as the older woman explained that there were rooms set aside for cooking, a separate one for eating, and yet others for reading, for receiving guests, for studying, for bathing, for drying, for dressing, and that her clothes were to be stored in a room big enough to serve as the communal space for her family back in the Redstone.

Further, it was explained that servants- strangers- would tend to her kitchen, cleaning, laundry, and other ‘menial’ tasks, and had their own separate living spaces in all of these rooms.

Another discontinuity. Anyone in the Dragon Clan could do anything, from running the forge to scraping leather to washing clothes to hunting, to working in the farm. In order to stand above the rest, it was necessary to be able to do anything.

“... how many... servants will there be in this place that is supposed to be mine?” Sheilah asked awkwardly.

Magdalene gave her a confused look, and glanced to Andrea.

“At least fifty, all told.” She replied. “Though, that can change, depending on the circumstances.”

Magdalene gave an indifferent shrug- she didn’t pay much attention to the comings and goings of the servants in her estates herself, and left the management of servants to her attendants, who oversaw them for her.

Sheilah traded looks with Fialla. A Tribe in the Redstone, regardless of Clan, was roughly twenty tents- twenty families. The amount of ‘servants’ that were to live in this vast collection of rooms was enough to make up a somewhat large tribe, and all of them were there to serve... her.

Well, her and Fialla.

Sheilah and Fialla were dizzied. The entire apartments were enough to house a tribe, and they were all for her?

“What an extravagant waste of space.” Fialla muttered to Sheilah, who nodded. They only needed a small room with a bed and a fire.

“Where do we hunt? Where do we fetch water?” Fialla asked cautiously.

“Hunt? Water?” Magdalene asked, puzzled, and then she worked it out. “Ah. Your servants will prepare your meals, bring refreshments, and clean your things.”

She gestured to Andrea.

“She- Andrea- her family has served ours for generations. She’s the third daughter of a Viscount. From now on, she’ll be managing the servants in your apartments.” Magdalene added. Andrea gave her a startled look, but bowed her head.

“Given the circumstances, we have to manage Sheilah’s appearances carefully.” Magdalene explained to Andrea. “We need to accomplish a lot in a very short amount of time, and I need someone I can trust, Andrea.”

Andrea nodded. “As you say, my Lady.”

Sheilah rubbed the palm of her hand over the pommel of her sword as she worried in thought. A family’s weapons belonged to the family. There were no explicit rules, but... only family members handled family weapons. For her it was doubly important- Nobody could touch them, except for her. Only she could clean them. She was the only member of her family here in this foreign place.

“Would you stop doing that?” Magdalene complained, exasperated. “I’ve been tolerant of it so far, but a line has to be drawn somewhere.”

Fialla eyed Sheilah, who returned the look.

Sheilah sighed. “I will try to explain it.” She replied to Fialla’s unasked question.

She glanced around; was there a place where they could sit, or was it more appropriate to sit on the floor?

She offered the question to Magdalene, who returned a horrified look.

“Sit? On the floor?” She replied, horrified. “There is a sitting room for that.” She gestured for the two girls to follow, and she led Sheilah to a “sitting room”, who was baffled that there was a room set aside exclusively for sitting.

Once they were seated around a low table, Sheilah took her sword and long knife from her belt and set them on the table. She added Adlan’s knife as well.

“So tell me about the sword and why it’s so important to you that you can’t be parted with them for a heartbeat.” Magdalene complained.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Sheilah fidgeted as she struggled to find the right words.

“These are mine.” She stated, tapping her hand on the hilt of her sword. She struggled to find the right words. “These swords are me. No one can touch them but those that come before... and those that come after.” She scratched her head. “It’s a thing of family.”

Magdalene’s face visibly darkened at that, though she said nothing, her expression spoke volumes.

“Do you have a weapon?” Sheilah asked the older woman. “One that has been passed down from father to son, from mother to daughter...” She gestured with her hands. “Like that.”

Magdalene shook her head. “A weapon? No.”

Sheilah sighed, and took the knife from her boot. “Father gave me this blade, when I headed- when I went into the Ashlands.” She began, trying to find the right words, without revealing Clan secrets. “When I returned and he told me that my mother had given me this knife to protect me, I thought it was something like that. Something like these.” She tapped her swords again. “Something passed down from the beginning.” She added.

“When you are too old to fit into the role of a child and need to step into the role of an adult, you take up the weapons of your family, and you go into the Ashlands and you use them to make your kill.” She explained. “From there, you craft your own weapon. That weapon is a weapon that your children and grandchildren, and on from there will take with them when it comes time to make their kills.”

She took a breath. “My family, the First Blood, those with the blood of the Dragon going all the way back to the beginning take up the weapons of the family, and sing their songs and tell their stories and remember their heroes.” She struggled here.

“These aren’t just weapons. They aren’t just swords. They are a shared heritage that stretches back through the ancestors.” She drew the smaller of the two blades and ran her fingers down the flat of the blade. “Someday, someone that calls me ancestor will take up this blade and add their own story to it.”

She looked up at Magdalene. “Do you understand? I cannot leave this blade for someone who is not my blood to ‘clean’. This is my history.”

Magdalene’s face grew stony. “You speak of them- those people- as your family, as if your own mother were not sitting across from you!” She spat. “Your father is not far from here, and you’ll likely see him this evening!” she shouted, rising to her feet. “I carried you! I birthed you! I am your mother!” She reached for the sword, but Sheilah moved it away from her grasp easily.

“This is the weapon you handed down to me, mother.” Sheilah replied, pushing the dagger towards Magdalene. “If it meant something to you, if it was something you carried and treasured, then I will carry it with pride.” She explained, “But this sword doesn’t carry your history.”

She looked up at Magdalene. “Did this knife mean something to you?” She asked.

Magdalene looked at the dagger, even as her daughter mocked her, insinuating that she was not family to her face. It wasn’t much of a weapon, a thin two-edged dagger with a somewhat large pearl set in the handguard and an aged ivory handle.

“It was my grandmother’s.” She finally explained. “She gave it to my mother when she married, who gave it to me when I married. I’d hoped...” she trailed off, and then shook her head, as if coming back to herself. “well, it’s a stupid tradition passed down in my family.” added with a negligent wave.

Sheilah breathed a sigh of relief. There was some common ground for them.

“Well, it might be unimportant to you, but I’m curious, at least.” Sheilah encouraged.

Magdalene rolled her eyes. “A long, long time ago, before my grandmother’s grandmother- or something like that, before Stormheim in fact- this knife was to protect yourself. It was given to women for that purpose.”

Sheilah picked up the aged ivory handle and examined it curiously. She hadn’t bothered before, there had never been any need to do so. In the yellowed ivory there were faint, faded lines carved into it. Loops and curves.

Fialla reached for it curiously, and also traced her fingers over the lines. “This means something.” She murmured.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what it is.” Magdalene replied as Fialla passed the blade back to Sheilah. “I don’t think anyone does.”

Sheilah raised an eyebrow, and took up her long knife and bared some of the blade. At the base of the blade, carved into the dragon tooth, was the mark of the Tyrant, the First Blood, and then her personal mark. Its twin was carefully marked on the blade of her sword as well.

“I think it’s a family mark.” Sheilah remarked, showing the mark of the blade. “This is mine.”

She set down the dragon tooth knife and picked up the knife Magdalene gave her and traced the marks with her fingernails. “This was probably the mark of your family.”

Magdalene rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t mean much, now.”

Fialla spoke up, then. “It could be a family knife, or something like an iron knife.”

Sheilah nodded.

Magdalene gave her a nonplussed look. “An ‘iron knife’?” She asked.

Sheilah smiled a little. “In the ancient times, a bride was given a knife made from iron that she could use to kill her husband with, if she felt he’d wronged her. If she did use it, she was allowed to return to her family unmolested.”

Magdalene barked a dry laugh. “I might’ve wanted to use it on Toril, your father, a few times.” She remarked.

Sheilah reached out and set her mother’s knife on the low table, and touched her sword.

“These carry a story- would you like to hear it?” She asked.

Magdalene hesitated for a moment- she wasn’t terribly interested in hearing about life among savages, but on the other hand, it was a story about her daughter.

She nodded.

Sheilah closed her eyes and tried to find a place to begin. “On my thirteenth birthday, I woke up ahead of everyone else...” She began.