Valentin hovered around his uncle like a fly on rotting meat. Gilles was running a brief inventory with the assistance of Jeanne. The boy was abuzz with excitement and had no place to direct his energy towards so he ran in circles around his uncle and sister. The pair chose to ignore the energetic boy and focused on their ledgers. Gilles checked the stability of the wine barrels to see if they could tip over easily.
“Seems it’s all here and fairly secure,” remarked Gilles, a look of satisfaction crossing his visage.
“I see the same,” concurred Jeanne. She closed her notebook and circled the wagon one final time. She nodded, pleased with what she saw. “We can leave when you and the horses are ready.”
“Oh they are ready.” Gilles approached the two horses and cooed softly to them. “Isn’t that right, sweets?”
One of the horses whinnied much to Uncle Gilles’ joy. The man leaped to a foothold and swung himself to the box of the wagon.
“Now if only my brother could show a little urgency,” Gilles said snidely, looking around for the missing Roland.
Nearby, the servant wagons were being loaded with the Steward’s belongings. A team of four worked to lift the massive bed into the wagon. Their corded muscles strained under the weight and their brows dripped with sweat. A servant stood atop the wagon and ordered adjustments to be made to the lift angle and height to avoid damage to the unwieldy furniture. Their progress was agonizingly slow, perhaps only a few inches before a shout would ring out and adjustments had to be made.
The bed was not the only item that the Steward had brought. Valentin had watched them load a footstool, a chifforobe, a jewelry chest, a makeup box, and even a lounging couch. All these things to be able to sleep comfortably for one night. Valentin wondered what the Steward would feel the need to bring on a longer trip.
“Do you think that Steward Tressavie would bring his entire home with him if he could?” Valentin mused to Jeanne.
“I thought you said you were going to behave today. You didn’t lie did you?” His sister pouted at him.
“I was just expressing pity for those people that have to load and unload all of those belongings,” Valentin replied dismissively, waving the jest away like a puff of smoke.
“They probably aren’t too bothered by it,” reasoned Jeanne. “After all, it is the Steward’s lifestyle that keeps those people gainfully employed. I would venture to guess that all of them are paid quite handsomely to keep the Steward’s belongings in a good condition.”
As the siblings discussed, their father appeared with their mother and the aforementioned Steward. They had finished their breakfast and were ready to finally depart. Euna followed shortly behind. In one hand was her instrument case, in the other was a roll of bread that she was still chewing on.
All the niceties shared amongst even other village clan paled in comparison to the opulence worn by the Steward and Valentin’s parents. Silken comfort draped around the Steward like a luxurious cocoon.
Compared to their normal attire, Valentin’s parents dressed akin to the nobles that Roland aspired to become. They wore similar clothing that the boy had seen them wear every Killicia as far back as he could remember. The Roucotte tailor, a friend of the clan’s helped dress them handsomely every year. This cycle, they opted for red tones. Roland wore a brilliant crimson coat with gloves and a hat lined with mink. Marion wore a matching red dress with a tall wimple that wouldn’t fit through most doorways.
“Jeanne, do you insist on wearing such masculine attire to Killicia?” Their mother complained as she strode towards them, her hands hiking up the sides of her dress so that they would not drag across the ground.
“I have worn your garb to the festival before, mother. Each time I have, my arms grow sore keeping my dress clean and my delicate shoes become caked in mud.” Jeanne dusted her breeches and gave a childish smile to her mother. “I am convinced that Killicia is a holiday for men’s attire.”
Jeanne wrapped a strong arm around Valentin’s shoulder and pulled him tightly towards her.
“Besides, aren’t the two of us a handsomely matched pair?” Jeanne beamed.
Valentin gave an uncertain smile in an attempt to support his sister but he feared that it appeared to be more much more awkward than he had wanted. His eyes shifted back and forth to see if anyone would hopefully take attention away from them, but no such relief arrived.
Marion sighed with defeat and turned her back on her children. The pair followed her over to the conversing men beside the Steward’s carriage. The escorting horsemen were already mounted and awaiting departure. A coachman craned his neck around every minute detail of the primary traveling carriage. Valentin watched the man loop around the carriage several times that morning, ordering adjustments and changes from the workers. However, after this pass, the coachman finally seemed satisfied by the work and offered the Steward a positive signal.
“Are you certain you do not wish to remain one day longer and enjoy our Killicia? I’m sure that Tiarna Lunoult would love to have you as much as I do.” Valentin’s father offered.
“Sadly I cannot linger here, Roland. I have many matters that require my attention. I was heavily advised to not even make the trip out here in the first place. But there is no way to measure a man through letters alone,” the Steward replied, placing one massive foot upon the stool before he looked over his shoulder. “Till the snow melts.”
Roland bowed to the Steward who entered his carriage. Euna followed shortly behind. The troubadour gave a small wave towards Valentin before the door closed behind her. The reins snapped and the azure dreamland effortlessly rolled forwards. Valentin watched it glide out of view and certainly towards some higher plane.
In an almost defiant contrast to the elegance of their employer’s carriage, the laden furniture wagons groaned forwards with little progress. Soft soil sunk the metal rimmed wheels deep into its muddy grasp. A team of servants pressed their hands against the back of the wagon and shoved with all their might. The lead servant in front grabbed the harness and attempted to coax the horses further. The animals snorted and yanked uncooperatively under the effort before, at last, the wheels were dislodged from the rut and the convoy wobbled away from the estate.
Now that all guests had left the Duvin’s property, it was time for Valentin and his family to depart as well. Valentin’s energetic anticipation caused him to nearly vibrate in place. His boyish enthusiasm was flatly ignored by the serious atmosphere exuding from his parents.
“Are we all set to leave?” Roland said to Gilles.
“Been ready,” Gilles replied flatly. His arms were crossed over his stomach and his face pointed skywards.
“Alright,” Roland whistled to get everyone’s attention. “Marion, you sit up there with Gilles. Valentin can join you for a bit as well. Jeanne and I will walk alongside you.”
The wagon pulled forward. Shortly after leaving the environs of the estate and onto the main road to Roucotte, the wagon was surrounded by fellow villagers making the journey to Roucotte for the festival. Roland and Jeanne started the journey by walking directly in front of the wagon to make their presence known. The men bowed to Roland and mothers hurriedly wrangled their children to prevent them from crossing him. Roland did not return the greetings but Gilles would wave from atop his seat and the wandering eyes below.
Much of the surrounding fields remained tilled in preparation for the sowing of wheat after Killicia finished. The largest of all the plots of turned land belonged to the Duvin clan. The earth disturbed by the tools of man eventually gave way to wild grasses and small groves of trees that sat upon gently rolling hills. Small herds of goats and flocks of sheep grazed lazily on the field’s grasses. A small scattering of shepherds, the poor souls that drew unlucky lots, stood watch near the herd. The only solace they could take was that some morsels of the feast and decanters of festival wine would be brought back for them.
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Those that spent the early morning finishing their work marched their dirty, sweaty bodies into the column of traveling villagers. Their bawdy nature created a look of disapproval on Roland’s face.
Overcast skies to the north greeted the travelers and caused brief worry that Roucotte would be drowning in precipitation. Fortunately, Valentin did not smell rain in the air but made a small prayer to the Mother and the ancestors to be certain that his day would not be marred.
Uneven roads jostled the cart constantly as the massive amounts of recent foot traffic had warped the dirt roads between Orsulie and Roucotte. The landscape in this stretch was of untamed hills and wild grasses. This jolting and rocking from the poorly maintained road was not something that Valentin had ever truly gotten used to. He vastly preferred the feeling of riding atop a horse. However, today his body seemed to disagree with the disturbances of the vehicle more than usual, his sleepless night the main contributor to his discomfort. He slumped against his mother in the hopes that he would find some level of relief but it seemed it would not be instant.
“What’s wrong, Valentin?” His mother asked with some mild concern.
“I was feeling restless last night,” Valentin admitted, fingers pressed against either temple.
Valentin had tried to enter a deep slumber multiple times throughout the night but his mind had been set aflame with countless ideas and possibilities. A parade of what-ifs marched through his psyche and kept his heart on edge. He had been aware of any slight disturbance in the night from slight straw clumps in the mattress beneath him to the breathing of his sister. Ortus had yet to rise and illuminate the world. He could not hear the sounds of anything stirring outdoors, not a call of the rooster or bark of a dog. He just lied in bed until Jeanne awoke. Each passing minute had been agonizing, far longer than any minute spent during the day.
Even now, those concerns still did not leave his head. His very future was in the balance. His mind constantly rolled through the mental peaks and valleys of considering being favored and unfavored.
Could he truly bear the disappointment that came from failing the Ceremony? Even if he was favored, would his family allow him to leave home to follow Gilles’ footsteps? While he dreamed for the opportunity to go on an adventure of his own, he began to consider the possibility of being away from his family for a long time. At the core of it, Valentin craved freedom to choose for himself.
“Would you rather be walking?” His mother asked sympathetically, rubbing the top of Valentin’s head affectionately. “Jeanne, do you need to rest?”
The wagon briefly stopped to accommodate the swap. The boy tried to massage the pain out of his head while he walked but to no avail. His father strode beside him and Valentin attempted to match the pace set.
“Move too slowly and I will throw you back atop the wagon,” warned Roland.
Valentin nodded and hustled behind his father. The foot traffic had condensed more the closer they got to Roucotte. Valentin took the opportunity to look around while they awaited entrance into town. The wild pastures turned back to tilled fields of grain. Townspeople quickly worked with hoes and shovels to complete their labors before the festivities reached their climax.
The cleared land directly outside of the low white stone walls of Roucotte already bustled with the activities of the common folk that lived there or made the journey to the local capital. A pavilion of storefront created from anchored wagons housed travelling merchants that wished to clear their wares before the cold season came. Colorful banners and impressive displays tried to woo the revelers towards their business. Those with extra decorations draped them over the walls behind them.
Beside the pavilion were various food stalls and fire pits. Smoke racks sizzled many cuts of meat and the aroma made Valentin’s mouth water. The rare smell of cooked beef also wafted through the air.
Barrels of ale and wine were already flowing generously from a hastily created stand. All that seemed to visit the location departed on uneven legs. Loud shouts and cheers emanated from the stand, dragging Valentin’s attention more closely towards it. A couple of merry men who tried to use the other as support collapsed into the dirt, earning a few good-spirited laughs from those that watched.
Further away, work finished on an enclosure that would be used for baggare. A couple men already seemed to be engaged in the preliminary round. Cloth wrapped fists careened through the air towards their opponent. Those outside stood on the fences that contained the fight and called out for their chosen fighter. Eventually one of them yielded and a man shaped like a bearded tree trunk emerged victorious, albeit wobbly, much to the adulation of all in attendance.
The town of Roucotte was, in all forms, of a higher class than Orsulie or any of the surrounding villages due to the town’s position along the main land trade route west. Merchants, craftsmen, and servants of d’Gauval lived within the safe walls of Roucotte. Valentin recalled his uncle mentioning that Roucotte’s pathetic, porous seastone walls did a better job stripping the coin off of travelers than keeping out an invading force. It must have stripped many coins to be presented in such a nice state.
“Hey, Uncle Gilles, let’s watch some fights later. I want to see if Orsulie’s champion will beat all the other villages!” Valentin suggested, his eyes sparkling with interest.
“I suppose it would be amusing,” Gilles called back from atop the wagon. “Who are our dashing champions this year?”
“Isabel and Arnauld.”
“Well if this year is like the previous four, Isabel will win easily again,” Gilles commented. “Arnauld, however, might be an interesting watch seeing that it’s his debut. Though I feel for the boy, he won’t have it easy. If your parents will allow time for it we can swing by.”
“We will not have the time for it,” Roland responded curtly, killing the idea before it had a chance to grow. “Besides, there is no need for you to watch an event such as that. It’s just desperate people trying to gain temporary renown.”
Several guards stood around an open iron gate to process all those that wished to enter the town. Almost all of the villagers that left Orsulie with the Duvin clan disappeared from the road by now in favor to the outdoor pavilions or the preliminary rounds of baggare. All that remained in line were those that had the coin to spend to travel inside.
Most festivities that the average villager would participate in were outside of the walls of Roucotte as, even on a holiday such as Killicia, non-citizens still had to pay a fee to enter the walls. The only exemptions were children taking the Bloodstone Ceremony and their families whose fees were paid for by the local Druidic Temple. A ratty clothed family in front of the Duvin’s passed through without trouble by invoking a druidic payment. Even then, they were viewed with scrunched faces and dissatisfied smirks from the ones that processed them.
In many ways it felt like there were two distinct celebrations occurring every year, one for the inside and one for the outside. Valentin never had the opportunity to participate in the outer wall Killicia but he always had the impression that it was a much freer celebration than the one that is participated in by the elite of the region which consisted of a feast at the Tiarna’s estate and a ceremony from the druids.
The Duvin party reached the gate guards. Warriors stood with spears in one hand and had the ruddy colors of the clan Lunoult. They look at the family with the disinterested eyes of those that were missing the festivities.
“Name, cargo, and payment,” a female warrior said with the bored tone of routine.
“Roland Duvin, wine for Killicia, Druid payment.”
The woman looked at Valentin’s father for a moment. “Master Duvin, please go right ahead.” All the guards provided a small bow and the wagon moved through the gateway and into Roucotte along Merchant Street.
Even the colorful revelry that bordered the walls could not compare to what dwelled within. Tethered to the second story of wooden storefronts. Large banners of alternating greens and blues and yellow spanned the street from the entrance all the way to the town square. Stalls made of lacquered wood sat underneath the large signs designating the business it represented. The best selection of clothing, leatherworks, and metalcrafts from their stores sat before beaming shop owners that proudly proclaimed the quality of their craft.
Aromas from heavily spiced and seasoned foods wafted into Valentin’s nose and caused his stomach to growl angrily. Animals and cuts that were only available during Killicia sat brazenly on display. Flanks of cow, pies made of minced lamb, ducks and exotic waterfowl, and all manner of expensive spice allured visitors in numerous different directions.
Valentin could already make out the Great Hall of Roucotte. It was built upon a manmade hill on the northern side of the town allowing it to look down upon the surrounding buildings below. Built from large trees that no longer grew in the area, the Great Hall was one of the final vestiges of the region’s Ampoli history. The Duvin family would join Tiarna Lunoult for a feast later in the day and tonight the Bloodstone Ceremony was held within the walls of the Hall.
“Marion and I will be joining Tiarna Lunoult in the Great Hall to discuss some business. Gilles, meet with the vendors and return by the feast,” Roland ordered as assisted Valentin’s mother down from the wagon. Marion was vigilant of the ground around her and moved her feet with great deliberation to avoid stepping into a puddle or other hazardous grounds.
“It might take me a while by myself but I can manage,” Gilles replied with a shrug.
“You can take the children with you to help, but make sure that they don’t get filthy. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of the other guests,” Roland permitted and he gave the siblings a stern look of warning before turning around and heading towards the Great Hall with their mother.
Valentin watched his parents hustle off and disappear into the crowd. Once they had left earshot, Gilles snapped the reins and the cart started moving.
“Goodbye children, make sure that you make it to the Great Hall in time,” Gilles said in farewell to the siblings. “Be sure to enjoy yourselves.”
“But what about the help you needed?” Valentin called out to his uncle.
“I lied,” Gilles answered. A large smile grew on Gilles face and he rode off towards the center of town. “Spend a couple hours looking around. We’ll meet on the road to the Great Hall."
Valentin returned his uncle’s grin and looked towards his sister who sported a similar mischievous smile. Jeanne reached for Valentin’s hand and started walking away from their uncle in the unlikely event that he changed his mind. They followed the path of their parent’s until they reached the center square of Roucotte where Merchant Street met Trader’s Way.