A certain pumpkin carriage clattered and swerved widely despite its slow speed, rambling along the length of a rough, bending road. Its soft, pumpkin rind wheels had difficulty keeping traction in the deep mud, still wet from yesterday’s rain, and the small figure sitting at its front had more than a speck of trouble controlling the horses. It wasn’t until Rapunzel realized that they hadn’t moved for a few candle-flick that she leaned her head outside the carriage window in an attempt to wave up at the coachman, trying to not let her hair spill out of the carriage.
“Hello, Tomas? Tomas, we haven’t gotten stuck, have we?” Rapunzel asked, her voice tinged with minor concern. Both her hands were anxiously running through thick parts of her hair, the length of it so long that the majority of it had coiled around her feet, her ankles, her waist, everywhere. The color of it was that of a new gold, with the bright sheen similar to that of a freshly minted gold piece, spread around the entirety of the interior of the carriage.
There was the sound of unintelligible cursing coming from somewhere just outside of her field of vision, before Tomas Wise, an elderly gnome wearing a tiny dirt-flecked tunic, trousers and accompanying riding boots sprang upside-down into Rapunzel’s view, his red cap almost as tall as himself pointing straight down. For a moment his cap slipped off his head, but a miraculously deft hand caught it mid-air and secured it back where it had just been, tightening the rim around his balding pate.
“Worry not!” Tomas said apologetically. “It’s just a little bit of mud mucking up the wheels, that’s all. It’ll only be a couple of candle-drops afore I get them spinning back up again. We’ll be back to moving shortly.”
Rapunzel nodded nervously in reply as Tomas whisked his head back out of view. Moments later she heard Tomas clamber down the side of the carriage and began seeing his little red cap bobbing about to and fro outside her carriage window. The wizened gnome was working hurriedly in an attempt to free the wheels, muttering darkly all the while. She would have to remind herself to gently broach the subject of his choice of words once they had arrived.
Rapunzel’s eyes glided farther out into the distance. What had once been lush, golden fields of wheat and fruit orchards that had stretched all across the countryside of Reveria was now a muddied no man’s land, with blackened, dead trees and the building-bones of burnt houses the only thing offering signs of variation in the ruined landscape. Some distance away a murder of crows circled above a scorched field that must have once been a beautiful meadow. Their excited caws carried over a great distance as they partook of the remains of a not-too-recent battle. Most of the corpses had been unceremoniously thrown into a singular pile and left for the thirst of the glaring Lamp, the colors of their soldier-tunics so dirtied with mud, blood and browning viscera that it was indistinguishable from a distance for which side they had fought on.
Rapunzel stared at the dark birds in morbid fascination, watching all the while as they pecked and prodded at the pile of carrion. It wasn’t until her vision suddenly turned entirely red that she realized Tomas had pulled himself up to her window, his crimson cap blocking her view.
“Your Penmanship?” said Tomas carefully.
Rapunzel snapped back to attention, one hand reflexively coming to grip a coil of her hair.
“Are you alright?” the gnome added. His crenulated old features were scrunched up together in a face of worry.
Rapunzel inhaled deeply to compose herself, then conjured up a placating smile.
“I am quite alright, Tomas. My mind was merely elsewhere.”
Tomas glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the dead-strewn field, then turned back to Rapunzel.
“I shall close the curtains for you. A woman of your station should not be subjected to such wanton sights of barbarism.”
Rapunzel’s hand shot out of the window to firmly grip the gnome's palm as he reached for a drawstring, stopping him before he could close her view.
“Do not.” she said, stern but soft. “There is no hiding from what goes on in the world, Tomas. It is a disservice to the Author and all the lives long and recently lost.”
Tomas looked uncomfortable, but nodded and bowed his head. “Yes. Of course.”
Rapunzel’s gaze was drawn again to the birds feasting in the distance.
“Your Penmanship?
“Tomas?”
“My hand.”
Rapunzel abruptly let go. “Thank you.” said the gnome, circling his small tender wrist with his other hand. For a moment Rapunzel couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of pity for the small creature. It had never been the gnome’s choice to be her escort all this way, but in the face of the ongoing war, traveling with an elderly, small gnome rather than an armed guard was the better alternative for her mission.
“I am sorry, Tomas. I forget for a moment our differing sizes. I apologize if I have hurt you.”
The gnome looked momentarily embarrassed, then he recollected himself and straightened to his full two feet.
“It is quite alright. I shall see to the carriage and the horses.”
“Perhaps I can help?” offered Rapunzel.
Tomas looked aghast at the suggestion. “That shall certainly not be necessary! There is no need to sully your hands. Like I said, it shall be but a few candle-drops of work and we shall be back whole on the road.”
Rapunzel opened her mouth to reply, when she suddenly saw the feasting crows fly up en masse into the air, their cawing turned a cacophony. Her face shot out of the carriage window, searching the horizon to her left and right. She saw nothing at first glance, then noted a single crow falling down from the sky. A candle-flick later, a second blot crashed back onto the field.
Rapunzeld heard Tomas cursing loudly as he too noticed something was amiss, not bothering to hide it under his breath this time. He jumped back off the floorboard, his tiny feet sinking into the miry mud momentarily, before he began to rush his work in attempting to free the wheels again. Rapunzel could see figures on horseback separating themselves from the shadow of a hill ahead of them. A small coterie of men on horseback made their way down the road towards the carriage, some of them armed with bows and using them to pepper the crows with arrows, shooting them mercilessly out of the sky in an attempt to drive them off. The band was led by a singular figure wearing an armet helm and a suit of ornate armor that seemed to shine with the very silver of the sun. Even from a distance Rapunzel could see the golden dragon proudly emblazoned on the fronts of their tabards.
One of the men suddenly let out a warning cry and pointed down the road in their direction. Immediately in response the knight and his men tightened their formation and began trotting down the road towards the pumpkin carriage.
Rapunzel spoke calmly. “Tomas?” Her hands moved from her hair to the tome resting in her lap, fingers tracing the contours of the image engraved upon its front.
“Your Penmanship, I am working as fast I can, but--”
“Tomas. It shall be alright.”
The crimson cap reappeared by the carriage window, the tip of it barely cresting above its bottom rim.
“But, we should see to--”
“Tomas.” Rapunzel repeated in a more forceful tone. “It shall be alright. Please open the door for me.”
“As you will.”
Moments later, the pumpkin carriage’s door was opened for Rapunzel from the outside. She buttoned up the plain bodice and accompanying travel jacket to protect her modesty, then made gentle care to lift the hem of her simple traveling dress so as to not see it dirtied. She stepped outside onto the muddied road with a practiced grace. Her illimitable hair arced from the back of her head like a lengthy bridal veil in the wake of her, the majority of it left as innumerable golden coils and nests that spanned the entirety of the carriage’s interior.
“Tomas?” Rapunzel said.
“Your Penmanship?” The gnome nervously wrung his hands, looking in the direction of the approaching band of men.
“Stay behind me.”
“Of course, Your Penmanship.” Tomas said meekly as he shuffled to stand in the shadow of the stately woman.
Rapunzel calmly waited with the large book resting in the crook of one arm. The well-trimmed nails of her other hand were delicately scratching the image of the gilded quill upon the surface of the tome as she watched the band approach. When they were a little more than a stone’s throw away the knight at the helm held up a gauntleted fist, his men halting their horses behind him. He said something in quiet tones only his companions could hear, then nudged his horse forward alone.
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“Hail, strangers.” The knight said from behind his helm. “You travel along a dangerous road. Only some days past a battle was fought here. Who are you and what brings you out this way?”
Rapunzel did not reply immediately, instead observing the knight’s demeanor as he ambled towards them. His gauntleted hand was at rest on the hilt of his sword and she noticed that his destrier was almost twice the size of his companions’, leaving heavy hoofprints the size of small puddles in its wake.
Rapunzel raised her free hand to shield her eyes from the Lamp’s glare casting off of the knight’s armor. Only when the knight came to stand before her, towering directly over Rapunzel astride his massive mount, did the woman deign to respond.
“The stories of noble Camelot are fabled throughout the Empire,” began Rapunzel. “Gallantry and chivalry, they say, stands supreme among their traditions. Tell me, sir knight.”
Rapunzel lowered her hand, scrunching her vision against the near-blinding of the cuirass. Despite the tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the bright of its shine, her gaze was unwavering.
“Why does one of Avalon’s sons approach an unarmed woman, with his hand on his sword as if he thought of her as some common ruffian? A threatening sense of chivalry I should say, if there was one.”
The knight’s helm swiveled slowly left and right as if searching for ambushers hidden along the sides of the road. Then he promptly dismounted, his pristine greaves sinking into the mud past his ankles, and his armor dimmed to a dull sheen. The knight raised his visor, revealing a surprisingly youthful face with clean-shaven cheeks and noble features sharper than any sword.
His eyes are a peculiar green, thought Rapunzel. Like emeralds made to glitter.
“Your admonishment, my lady, bites deeper than a blade,” he said in an airy tone.
“I can but hope the wound scars as into a teaching reminder, sir,” replied Rapunzel curtly.
The handsome man laughed, youthful and earnest. He was about to say something more when his gaze fell on the book Rapunzel held nestled to her chest. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped to one knee in a show of earnest genuflection, his hand reached up to remove his helmet in clumsy haste.
“Your Penmanship.” he said in a choked voice. “Forgive me. I did not recognize you to be one of the Author’s own.”
“And what would you have me do, sir, to avail myself for your proper inspection? A miter is not meant for carriage-travel.”
“I merely meant--”
“I know what you meant, sir,” Rapunzel replied stiffly. Her gaze was heavy on the man’s bowed head, each of her utterances seeming causing the knight to lower it even further in a display of further remorse.
For a moment there was only the sound of Rapunzel’s nails scratching against the cover of the book she held. She then hoisted it higher inside the curvature of the elbow and flung it open to a page she knew well.
“The Book of Firsted.” Rapunzel said thoughtfully, a finger tracing across the contents of the page. “Tell me, sir, do you know it well?”
“Of course, Your Penmanship. Cover to cover.” the knight replied hastily.
Rapunzel began to read aloud. “And the Author saith: Behold, there goeth the stranger on a lonely path. And lo, there but for a different cloak, seekest thou thyself shelter from the storm. Succor the wanderer as he travels through thine Page, and see them suffer no tarnish. Lest…”
“Lest respite itself turn a cursed dream.” finished the knight in a mumbling tone.
“So it is writ.” finished Rapunzel.
“So it is writ.” repeated the knight, his head now so low that his hair touched the mud. Rapunzel snapped the book shut with a satisfying thud, beholding the man before her. His breathing was slow, if shaky.
Rapunzel sighed.
“Rise, sir.” she said impatiently. “Scuffed knees are neither a show of piety nor remorse.”
The knight quickly rose to a stand, his eyes kept downcast. His glowing cuirass had turned entirely lightless. Without its silvery luster Rapunzel could see the scars of many dents, scuffs and nicks in its steel.
“What is your name?” asked Rapunzel.
“Caradoc, Your Penmanship. Caradoc of Whimcliffe.”
“Caradoc? I know well the name. I know of the mighty deeds he has done, that he is the slayer of the last winged serpent. I know, too, that Caradoc is a greyhair, whose leg was left lame as a result of the battle.” Rapunzel’s eyes flitted down to where the man before her stood.
“You stand stall for an aged man with one good leg.” she added dryly.
“You speak of Caradoc the Elder, my father. I am his first-born. Caradoc the Younger they call me.”
“I see.”
Rapunzel’s gaze went past Caradoc’s shoulder, falling on his companions. They were clotted together in uncertainty and observed the scene from a distance, their hands tight around their reins and near their weapons.
“I am Rapunzel.” she said, turning her attention back onto Caradoc.
The knight’s face cleared up and he nodded in recognition.
“Of the famed tower?” he asked.
Rapunzel pursed her lips almost imperceptibly. “The very same.”
“I should have recognized you for who you were from afar Your Penmanship, if but for the hair.”
“Perhaps well you should have. But what is written cannot be rewritten.”
“Yes, Your Penmanship. Again, I can only ask forgiveness.”
Rapunzeld waved her hand dismissively. “It is granted, sir Caradoc the Younger. Now.” She took a half-step aside and lifted off her veiling hair to reveal the gnome that had been hiding underneath it.
“This is Tomas Wise. My sole attendant on my journey.”
Tomas stepped into the light again and made a small, courteous bow towards the young knight.
“My lord.” he squeaked. “Author’s writings upon you.”
Caradoc merely nodded in reply, then took another look around, mimicking his earlier surveying.
“Only a gnome?” he asked incredulously.
Rapunzel raised an eyebrow. “Should I have eight men to attend my travels like yourself, sir Caradoc? Tomas has proven himself more than capable so far in protecting me on our journey.”
Caradoc’s cheeks tinged red. “I meant no disrespect towards your companion, Your Penmanship, but there are a great many dangers still lurking along these roads. I cannot help but wonder as to why a High Stylus such as yourself would travel without guards in a land torn by war.”
“A war declared by your king.”
Caradoc stiffened. Rapunzel could see the young knight’s shoulders straighten at the mild accusation, his features hardening ever so slightly.
“So it was,” he replied flatly.
Perhaps even more prideful than his father, despite his youth, Rapunzel thought to herself. And an unearned pride is the most fragile kind.
“I must ask--” he instead began.
“Must you?” Rapunzel interjected.
“I must, yes.”
“Then ask, sir Caradoc.”
“From whence do you come? And where do you journey to?”
“We travel northbound to the kingdom of Clearsedge.”
“The Snow Queen’s demesne? There are only heathens there, Your Penmanship.”
“For now. Erelong it shall be written into the Pages of the Author Above, Sir Caradoc.”
“Your Penmanship?” Caradoc replied in confusion. “I do not understand.”
“There is holy work there to be done in the name of the church. That is all I have to say regarding the matter.”
Caradoc frowned. “As you say.”
The knight seemed to be searching for further words as if to say something more on the matter, but seemed to think the better of it. Instead he looked over at the nearby carriage, its pumpkin rind wheels still stuck in the mud.
“My men and I would be gladdened to aid you on your way, Your Penmanship. You need but ask.”
“Need I?”
Caradoc scraped his upper teeth against his lower lip in unspoken annoyance.
“You need not.” he replied stiffly. He then turned and signaled for his men to come closer and, to a man, they dismounted and bent their knee in the mud before Rapunzel’s feet and hair, professing their remorse and their undying devotion to the Author Above. Soon after, with great effort, they managed to pull the wheels free, setting the pumpkin carriage rightly back on the road.
“Thank you, sir Caradoc.” said Rapunzel as she seated herself back inside, her hair once again back in springy coils around her feet. “I imagine Tomas might have succeeded similarly, although I doubt it would have been done with the same expediency.”
Sir Caradoc was by the carriage window looking in, his helm underneath his arm.
“I do but as the Author writes.”
“As do we all,” Rapunzel replied. “Do you know perchance the distance from where we are now to the kingdom of Clearsedge?”
“A long ways away still, I fear. Some six candles. Perhaps seven if you encounter rain or worse.”
“You will accompany us, I imagine?”
“If it would please.”
“It would. As you so said: many dangers lurk in this war-torn land.”
Caradoc replaced his helm back onto his head at the comment. The young knight’s cuirass took on some of its former luster.
“We shall escort you along the length of this road and the next,” he said. “My king would demand no less to assure the safety of one of the Empire’s High Styluses.”
“I imagine he would, sir Caradoc. Very well, Author write you.”
“And you, Your Penmanship.”
The knight pulled away from the carriage window and Rapunzel saw him march back to his massive destrier. A peculiar sight she saw then, when she saw the large horse kneel and lower itself so that the knight merely needed to hoist a lazy leg over the saddle before it stood back up to its full height without the knight even needing to touch his reins at all.
A candle-flick later she heard Tomas crack his small whip and felt the carriage begin to move again. While loosely being bumped and jostled inside of the carriage due to the uneven road, Rapunzel opened up her Book of Firsted and riffled through it to another particular page. She stared not at the words on the page itself, but rather at those on the letter she had kept safe in between her two favorite verses. One delicate finger gently caressed the broken wax seal of a starry wand as she began reading its contents again slowly, just like she had done multiple times a day ever since she first found the Fairy-marked missive beneath her sleeping pillow some three candlepochs ago. So engrossed was she in her reading that she did not even hear the cawing of the crows returning to their dinner in the vacuum of her wake.