The only sigh of relief young Ravina could exhale was in the hallway. Yet, she was forced to stifle it quite soon. With dinner finished and her belly full of nerves and knots, she was quickly escorted into a parlor room. She wasn't too sure where she had been taken, but judging by the purple color scheme and massive size, she felt safe in assuming it was a room central to the house's family name.
Portraits of men, women, and more than a few children were framed around the room, a wonderful display created by skillful artists using masterful brushstrokes and expensive paint. Though only four people were waiting for Ravina in this room, the realistic portraits gave the impression that hundreds of eyes were gazing directly at her as she sat in the most central lounge chair.
“Welcome,” said the master of the house with an acknowledging nod and a practiced smile. The count sat in an illustrious chair, positioned in a place of honor, allowing him to view the entire room without the need to turn his head. Ravina sat to his left, while the other three enjoyed the comfort of the same sofa. “I trust you had a wonderful dinner?” he asked, his kind words feeling like mockery to Ravina.
Ravina smiled as she buried her anxieties. Showing weakness here would grant her nothing but misery. So, with great effort to keep her breathing calm and steady, she returned his smile. “Yes, it was wonderful.” In truth, she was unable to taste the food. She wasn't even sure if she had eaten any at all.
Whatever the case, the great Count Ravinshield seemed not to mind as he nodded. “Wonderful. Well, you've met with the elders of the house – however, these are the only ones that matter.” He motioned to the three people sitting elegantly.
The first was a fine and handsome man who seemed not to have gotten the memo. Instead of fine robes of purple, his were crimson red. His sharp red eyes seemed to dance with an internal flame as his thin lips pulled into a sly smile. He pulled at his lengthy blonde hair as he introduced himself, his voice coming out with a slight hiss, like steam from a grate. “My name is Emit Graceland Ravenspear, and beside me is Madam Pelmen Sera Ravensword.” His gracious introduction was met with swift action.
His ready hand effectively defended himself against a worn wooden cane as it came flying at him. “I can introduce myself just fine, thank you very much,” her voice was hoarse, but she spoke with elegance. Draped in fine silk imported from a distant land across the sea, her refined outfit accentuated her noble visage, broken only by the scowl stretched over her face and her violent actions. Her annoyed breaths came out in a huff as she resettled herself in her seat.
“I am Madam Pelmen Ravensword,” she continued. “And I will be Madam Pelmen Ravensword long after you are married.” Her nose flared as she finished speaking, her knuckles cracking on her darkwood cane.
“Well, that just leaves me then,” said the final one, a middle-aged man. His stern face and silver hair gave him the breathtaking looks of a seasoned knight. With golden eyes that housed a silver ring, his gaze ensured one knew they were being judged. His hands, covered in white gloves, straightened out his fine blue dress coat. “I am Sir Willam de Ravenfeather, Captain of the Grey Guard and master of the blade and bow.”
Though none of them had risen when they gave their introductions, Ravina stood and gave a curtsy as best she could, chiding herself internally for not practicing. “As my father said, I am Ravina… Rosewell Ravinshield.” Stumbling only on her name, she surprised herself with just how smoothly her words left her lips. “It is a great pleasure to meet the esteemed members of the house,” she said, her eyes glancing over all three of them before flickering to her father. “I am especially grateful that the only ones that matter would allow me the honor of a private meeting.” Rising up fully, she smiled as brightly as she could, keeping in mind to show no teeth.
For a moment, the room was filled with stifling tension. Three esteemed members stared at a lone girl, while another bemused set watched it unfold. Ravina was able to maintain her composure thanks only to one thing: the idiosyncrasy of their names. Seriously, she thought as she shifted her steady gaze from one elder to the next. First Ravenshield and now Ravinsword, Ravenspear, and Ravenfeather? Is the entire raven family line just branches of that single word?
Finally, the heavy silence was broken by the old woman’s cane. Thunk thunk echoed in the room. “Well, it seems she has some manners,” her eyes narrowed as she spoke. “I maintain the internal workings of the family, or lack thereof,” she spat, shooting a glare at the count. “I bring order to this unnecessarily large family.” Madam Pelmen stood up with a grunt, her arms shaking as she tightly gripped the cane to help herself up. No one moved to assist her as she struggled slightly to her feet. Ravina teetered on her own feet for a moment, unsure. However, she judged by the others' reactions that her help was unwanted—otherwise, these fine and noble men who remained seated would be very ill-mannered indeed.
“Should you need anything in the family, you can ask me, and I might look into it,” she said as she finally stood. Despite her age and apparent weakness, her back remained straight, and she stood tall, only one shaky hand on her fine cane. Its clapping echo on the stone floor drummed out her gate as she left the room. ““I doubt we will have need to talk further.”
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“Well,” the silver fox said as he himself stood, his stern gaze gracing Ravina’s face once more. “I am in charge of the guards in the town. So long as you stay out of trouble, we need not speak.” With that, he strode after Madam Pelmen, passing her and opening the door for her, earning himself a scowl from the woman as they left together.
“Then I guess that just leaves me,” the comment drew Ravina’s eye, and Emit’s humming made her realize that this was a test of sorts. With Pelmen and Willam’s departure, it seemed that Emit was the only one left—could he hold her fate? Her eyes fell on the man who would be her father. His bemused smile told her nothing.
Finally, Emit stood. “Well, we will just wait and see, won’t we,” he spoke to the count, seemingly ignoring the girl. “I’ve got to leave tomorrow anyway; there has been a disruption in the Calmain Sea Route. So I need to handle that,” he nodded as he left the room, muttering a curse, “damned pirates.”
The sound of the closing door signaled the end of the meeting, leaving father and daughter alone.
“So, how badly did I do?” Ravina was the first to speak, sitting back down as she did.
“What makes you think you did badly?” the count countered.
“All three left with little more than an introduction,” Ravina replied, taking a breath. Her fingers squeezed the armrest of the chair. “What's more, both Madam Pelmen and Sir Willam said that there would be no reason for us to meet again.”
“You are a clever child,” Count Ravinshield nodded as he collapsed back into his seat. A finger rhythmically tapped on his leg as his dark eyes surveyed the small, dejected child. “It's true that it seems they didn't take to you as the knights did, but—hmm, tell me, do you know the difference between a family elder and a vassal?”
“Of course, a vassal is someone who brings his own power to support and serve someone else,” Ravina answered quickly. She folded her hands together, squeezing her thumb as she forced herself to speak at a normal tempo. “As for an elder, their power comes from within the family.”
The count's eyes narrowed slightly as his head tilted. “Not entirely correct, but not wrong either,” his whispered words were almost lost to Ravina, but he spoke up before she could ask him about it. “Where did you learn that?”
It was a simple question, one that confused the girl. “It’s…” obvious. But she couldn't say that. She couldn't, because she didn't know what made it obvious. She had read countless stories, and in each and every one, elders were nothing more than a road bump on the protagonist's journey. They were almost always a minor villain, nothing more to think about. Yet, she was able to define it outside that narrow view.
The count's rhythmic tapping stopped. “It’s?” he repeated.
Shaking her head, Ravina spoke with a dry tongue. “Ah, uh... Well, I’ve been studying.” The poor excuse would have to do. There was a little truth to it, so it shouldn't be a problem. Still, the count continued to study her.
Finally, he stood from his seat and moved to one of the portraits. It depicted a man in his 30s, wearing a rather fancy suit with an array of accents. Dark, thick mutton chops framed his bold face, and he stared at both living souls with the same purple-accented eyes as everyone else in the room. For some reason, the count spoke to this painting as he addressed Ravina. “Who do you believe is more dangerous, the elders or the vassals?”
The answer was simple. “Elders.”
The count turned his head slightly. “Are you sure? The vassals have their own houses. All the elders have is a portion of the power that the head of the house holds.”
“A vassal can bite its master's hand, but the blame would rest on its master. Either they allowed the dog to grow too large and were unable to manage it, or they neglected the pup and allowed it to deceive itself. However, the elders come from within the family, and just because it's only a portion of power, doesn't mean they can't use the rest of it against them.” It was an old story, mainly told in fairy tales of princes competing for the throne. While the family ruled over the land, only a select group would vie against each other for control over the house itself.
“I see,” he neither affirmed nor admonished her words, only acknowledged that she had said them. As Ravina mentally flipped him off, he turned around. “Well then, do you know why I introduced you to the elders first and not to the vassals all at once?”
‘How the hell should I know?’ she screamed deep inside her mind. She put her brain into full gear, ignoring the scent of smoke filling her nose. Elders were more dangerous, even if he didn't say it, she could assume he agreed with her. That meant that there was something he wanted from them… or from her… the ones that mattered… “Because it won't matter if I am your daughter or not,” she muttered, not fully aware she was speaking out loud.
“Go on,” his words caused her to jump.
“Ah… well, I need the elders on my side,” she concluded awkwardly but nodded at the words. “Otherwise, I will only be an ornament and…” her mouth fell open in realization. She covered it with a hand. “House Ravenshield will no longer be the head of this county.”
The echoing steps of the count's footfalls continued until he was standing over her. Intimidated by his size and glare, Ravina found she could not look at him.
“I told you, I will not support you,” she barely heard his words over the pounding of her heart. “If you would like to keep anything you are given because of me, you must earn it. Otherwise, there is always another Raven to take your place.” With those words, he left her alone in the room.
It took some time for her to calm down after he left. Thankfully, he said something rather cheesy at the end that helped settle her heart.
“What does it matter,” she mumbled as she fell back in the chair, staring at the ceiling and speaking only to the paintings. “I'm not your real daughter, and you don't care about me either way. Nothing belongs to me, and even if I did desire anything, what would I gain? A castle? Money? Heh, an army would be nice,” she laughed dryly.
She sat up slowly, staring at the man who had stolen the count's attention. Rising up, she slowly made her way to his portrait. Barely making out the small print, she read the name engraved on the plate. “Travs Gallon Raven…”