Rosalie held the reins of her horse for dear life, despite the fact that the animal wasn’t walking very quickly. It had been two nights since she had woken up in the care of Prince Edward, and she thought she felt well enough to sit upright on her horse. She, in fact, was not well enough. They were nearly to the gates of the capitol, however, and she wanted to enter the city with dignity; agonizing pain be damned.
Ebonwall, the capital city of the Kingdom of Thalan, was named for the ebony trees that grew in the surrounding era and the large surrounding wall made from the tree’s wood. Being the city that the king resided in, Ebonwall was truly massive. Rosalie estimated that the market district alone could fit the entirety of Whiteridge twice over. She had only ever been to the city a few times, most recently was around a month prior when her father commissioned the family portrait.
Rosalie was riding in between one of Edward’s many guards and Cedric, the medic that had been assigned to her. Ahead of them were two additional guards, behind them was a covered wagon full of supplies, and riding in the very front was Edward. Rosalie wished she could’ve been riding within chatting distance to Edward, as she genuinely enjoyed talking with him. She had always imagined speaking with any noble would be nerve wracking, but Edward had a way of making anyone he spoke to feel like an equal.
Their procession was met by a small group of guards just a short ways from the open gates of the city. They bowed to Edward and exchanged a few words that Rosalie couldn’t hear. One of the guards took the reins of the horse pulling the supplies wagon and led it away from them, leaving just Edward, Cedric, Rosalie, and the royal guards to ride through the city up to the castle.
“Make way for Prince Edward,” one of the royal guards in front of Rosalie called out to the gathering crowd of people.
Edward was a well known and beloved prince who actively made the time to meet with the common folk, so news of his arrival spread quickly and earned the procession many onlookers. Dozens of people lined the streets; each waving to Edward and desperate for his attention. Rosalie noticed quite a few young women who swooned at the sight of him, which she thought was quite funny knowing the prince’s preferences. Edward simply smiled and waved politely at the crowds.
Soon they reached the walls of the inner city: a place Rosalie had never gone before. The houses were much taller and nicer looking, and there were fewer people lining the streets to see the prince.
Well, this is where the nobles all live, I guess they get to see Edward all the time.
As they rode through the inner city, Rosalie noticed two girls around her age walking down the street. One had curly brown hair and looked very familiar, and the other had wavy brown hair and was holding a cat the color of the night sky. Both girls turned to look at the procession. The curly haired one scanned them until her eyes landed on the prince, but the wavy haired one’s eyes landed on her. They locked eyes, and the girl squinted.
The girl had a round face with rosy cheeks and hazel eyes. Her hair fell below her shoulders and the front was cut into bangs. Rosalie could feel her face grow warm at her attention. After a moment, she whispered something to the curly haired girl who turned to look at Rosalie, too. She felt slightly awkward being stared at, but as she rode their view became obstructed and she was freed from their gaze.
Why was she looking at me like that? And what was up with that cat? Something about it felt… familiar.
Rosalie shook her head. She had to admit, the girl was quite cute, but something about that cat itched at the back of her mind.
Probably just never seen a cat that color before. And it’s eyes, poor thing must be blind.
Wait… was the curly haired one the girl who did the family portrait?
They approached the bridge that connected the inner city to the castle, and a few people came to relieve them of their horses. Rosalie unstrapped her staff from the horse’s saddle and affixed it to her back using a modified sword sheath. Cedric helped her down from her horse and handed her a wooden crutch to walk with.
A tall, lanky man approached them and bowed to Edward. “Ah, how lovely it is to see you again, my Prince.”
Edward smiled at the man. “It is good to see you too, Charles. I need you to arrange an audience with my father, I have mission reports and someone I’d like him to meet.”
“Of course, your highness,” Charles bowed again. “I’ll see to it at once.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Edward said, looking at Rosalie’s staff. “Can you arrange for the Royal Historian to be at this audience? We found something none of us recognize. That’ll be all though, thank you Charles.”
“It shall be done, your highness.”
Charles bowed for a third time and walked away. Cedric bid his goodbyes as well as he had to arrange for a doctor to treat Rosalie’s wounds, leaving Rosalie and Edward alone with the royal guards.
“I’ll warn you, the audience with my father will be very ‘official’ and ‘proper,’ by which I mean to say largely boring. We can head to the kitchen while we wait to see my father, if you’d like,” said Edward, turning to Rosalie. “I’m sure you’re hungry for something better than army rations.”
When Rosalie made the trek from Whiteridge to the bandit outpost, she had rarely eaten anything at all as she was inexperienced with hunting in the mountainous terrain. When she had woken up in Edward’s care, those army rationed had seemed like divine treasures. Now, in the face of real food from the king’s palace, she simply couldn’t refuse.
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King Alban Paxton sat proudly in his magnificent throne room. His long silvery hair hung down to his shoulders and was topped with a solid golden crown encrusted with the most precious jewels in the kingdom. His robes were immaculate and adorned with golden decorations and lined with the finest white furs.
His son had returned from his mission far earlier than anticipated and immediately requested an audience. Alban found his son tiresome for the most part. He was well liked by the people, which Alban respected, but he had ideas above his station and tended to disagree with quite a few of Alban’s ideals. Additionally, he has rejected every one of the suitors presented to him, but the boy would surely find a wife soon enough. Edward had long since learned not to bother Alban with trifles and small matters, so anything that would cause him to cut his mission short to report would be quite interesting.
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“Send them in.” Alban waved his hand listlessly at his steward.
“Yes sir, right away sir,” the steward, whose name eluded Alban, bowed.
The large doors of the throne room opened, and one by one the attendants entered.
“His royal majesty, Prince Edward,” announced the steward.
Edward walked through the doors, bowed to Alban, and moved out of the way for the next person.
“The royal historian, Tobias Godwin.”
The old sponge that was the historian entered shyly, bowed to the king, and stood beside Edward. Alban didn’t care much for the man. His knowledge was great but, like Edward, he had ideas above his station. He was also getting quite old and his incessant coughing was very irritating.
“Miss Rosalie Hawthorne.”
A young lady with deep red hair wearing a dark purple dress hobbled in, even more timid than Tobias and limping on a crutch. She bowed, and Alban could see she had a long staff with a red jewel crowning the top affixed to her back.
Interesting.
“Thank you for meeting with us, father.” Edward stepped forward. “To begin, I would give you the report from the mission to eliminate the bandits residing in the second era military base near the Elordian border.”
“Yes, yes, out with it.” Alban motioned for Edward to speak quickly.
“Upon my platoon’s arrival to the base on the 14th of Unemor, we found that the bandits had already been cleared from the base by Miss Rosalie Hawthorne. We established our hold of the base and it is now ready for occupation.”
Alban leaned forward. “Do you mean to tell me that this girl defeated an entire camp of bandits single handedly?”
So… this girl is more than she seems.
“Yes, father. We witnessed the power of Miss Hawthorne firsthand, and that is the second purpose I have for meeting with you.” Edward motioned to the girl who unclipped the staff from her back and presented it to Alban. “Miss Hawthorne came into possession of this staff in the ruins of her home of Whiteridge. It contains a power that I, nor any of my soldiers, had ever seen prior.”
So, what, some little Whiteridge girl saw her home destroyed and took it upon herself to get revenge? This just keeps getting more and more intriguing.
“This staff is a weapon of sorts, then?” Alban leaned back. “Might I see a demonstration? Perhaps she might spar with one of the guards?”
“I am afraid she has been injured, father, and is presently in no condition to spar. However, if a guard may be willing to lend me a shield for just a moment…” Edward took a shield presented by a nearby guard. He slid his hand into it and faced the girl. “Alright, Rosalie,” he said quietly. “It’s just like we practiced, just a little one.”
Alban watched with interest as the girl raised her staff and pointed it at the shield. The gemstone on the end began to glow and a moment later a red bolt of light shot out and collided with the shield, leaving a smoldering scorch mark. Tobias, who Alban had already forgotten was here, gasped loudly. Even Alban had to admit he was shocked by the blast.
“What…” Alban was at a loss for words. “What is that staff?”
“We don’t know,” said Edward as he handed the smoking shield back to the guard. “No one I have trusted with the information was able to identify it. That's why we called for Historian Godwin.”
“Well, Godwin,” Alban spat out. “Do you recognize it?”
The old man turned to Rosalie. “May I?” She nodded and he took the staff in his shaking hands. He inspected the polished wooden shaft and the ornate golden claws holding in the finely cut red gemstone. “An Arcanist staff,” the old man muttered quietly.
“What was that, Godwin?”
The elder perked up, visibly flustered. “Oh! I, uh… You see, there are these old legends that… umm, well… Excuse me one moment.” Tobias turned and coughed, and Rosalie placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, dear, I’m alright. As I was saying, there are old legends dating back from the early second era about individuals who… wielded staffs to gain extraordinary abilities. These people were commonly known as Arcanists.”
Alban needed to replace the old historian soon. Stumbling over his words and coughing; it irked Alban greatly.
“Arcanists, hmm.” Alban contemplated for a moment. “So you, girl, found this Arcanist staff in the ruins of Whiteridge and used it to eliminate the offending bandits?”
“That’s correct, your majesty,” she replied, taking her staff back from Tobias.
Alban held back a smile. He knew those bribes were a good investment. He needed that military base for the upcoming war with Elordia, but any move to capture it would’ve been rightly seen as an act of aggression. All it took was a few well-placed bribes to get those barbarians to take out a measly, unimportant village, and now he had an excuse to reclaim the base. That would’ve been good on its own, but he was spared man-power by a girl who took revenge on her own accord and destroyed all potential evidence of wrongdoing.
This just gets better and better. That staff would be a game changer in the war, and she already knows how to use it. A little spitfire like her, nowhere to go, eager to prove herself… I’m sure a few honeyed words would put all that power on my side.
“The kingdom owes you a debt, Miss Hawthorne.” Alban inclined his head slightly. “Tell me, what is it you intend to do with your Arcanist powers now?”
“Your majesty, It is my wish to protect people however I can.”
Ah, she’s making this too easy for me.
Alban smiled. “From what I have seen and heard, you are capable of doing great things for a great many people.” He cringed internally for having to be so polite to a mere peasant. “I would offer you a place in my army. There, you would do the most good and could protect common folk all across the kingdom. You would be placed in the service of my son, Edward, and you would be able to hone your skills.”
Rosalie looked at Edward, and they smiled at each other.
“It would be my honor to accept, your highness.”
Alban stood from his throne. “Very good. I shall appoint you the official title of Arcanist. You shall report to Prince Edward for orders.”
Tobias, who Alban once again forgot was here, made a small squeak and appeared to be sweating.
“Arcanist Hawthorne, Historian Godwin, you are both dismissed.” Alban sat down, happy to be back in his comfortable throne. “Edward, I would speak with you.”
Rosalie and Tobias both bowed and left, and Edward approached the throne.
“You have done well to find this power and bring it to me, my son.”
“Thank you father.”
“Your orders are to return to the military base and set up an official occupation. I want it to be fully operational within four weeks.”
“Yes, father.”
“At the same time, you will train the Arcanist girl. I want her in full fighting condition. You will find the extent of the staff’s power, she will become adept at using it, and you will make sure her allegiance lies with the crown. Am I understood?”
“Yes, father.”
“Good. Once those tasks are complete, you will return here with the Arcanist for further orders. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you father.”
Edward bowed and left, leaving Alban alone with his guards and his steward. He sat back in his throne, proud of his skillful manipulation.
This was an unexpected, yet pleasant development. If that girl has as much power as they say, that could make it possible to begin the invasion within the year.