~ PRELUDE: A BLAZING HEART ~
FIFTEEN YEARS BEFORE DAWN
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"I'm not going to force you."
She had never heard her father's voice so burdened.
He continued. "You've made your feelings clear, and I agree with you. I would never force you, but you have to know—there's nothing I can do. If you want to ride out his wrath here in Trella, I will do it with you."
Her eyes didn't blink, her face didn't twitch. Waves of emotion washed over her as she visualized each possible future, the lulls in between filled with implacable reason.
"If you want to move, to Arkavis or maybe Manara… I've saved up enough… With a bit of cunning, we can change our names, our identities… maybe. His reach is long…"
A few more waves, and then…
Calm.
"Thank you, father," she said. "I don't think I can give an answer right now… but maybe… just give me one more sleep to think on it."
"Of course. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Senna…"
She gave him a faint but earnest smile. "I know you have nothing to be sorry for, father. I couldn't have asked for a better response from you. It's just… Really, it's just like you say—even the skies of Manara are more predictable than the tides of trade."
His face remained furrowed.
"Or the fancies of Geldin lordlings, in this particular case," she continued with a heavy dose of wryness. Finally, his mouth twitched into something other than a frown. "But… before I have to do too much thinking, can I take a lunch over to Tessia's? And maybe a dinner too…"
"Of course! Just say hi to Ruts for me if you see him!" Her father was all too eager to regain a sense of normalcy in the day. She wondered why she didn't feel bad about exploiting that.
Because she had no intention of waiting until her next sleep to act on her future… and his.
Before she walked out the door, she was sure to choose her last words to him carefully. "Love you, father!" And then she was standing on the weed-for-mortar cobblestones they called a street.
Every merchant in the bustling trade town she called home knew her by name, a fact that she'd never have thought could ever be an obstacle. So she'd have to take a direct approach. Laden with a purse stuffed with coins and a basket containing four solid meals, she made her way onto the main road and towards the southern gate. There, on the left side of the street, was the town's smith, and the best in the Empire outside of the capital. He was also one of her father's best friends.
The familiar clanking of a blacksmith at work was absent, giving her hope that she'd be able to talk to the old man directly. Walking into the storefront, she headed straight for the back while greeting the assistant. "Hi Marla! Here to see Tesmon." She could hear the sound of a grinding stone from behind the door to the workshop, a process that she wouldn't feel bad about interrupting.
"Hi Senna! I'm not sure what I'm smelling, but I sure am jealous…"
"Haha. I'm trying to keep as much as I can for Tessia, but maybe…"
"Don't mind me, I've already just finished my midday toast! Just maybe waft a bit more of that lunch my way…"
Walking past Marla into the workshop, she made sure to shoo some of the aroma from her basket in her direction, unable to keep a playful smile from crossing her face. Marla responded in kind with a room-brightening grin. Now through the door however, the distinct smell of metalworking soon overwhelmed the fresh bread and cheese, and the air was hot enough to stifle her senses even without the bellows going.
"Mister Tesmon! Father says you're a right dint-skulled steel-for-brains slack-sniffer, but I brought you some lunch."
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Tesmon's booming laugh has probably been mistaken for some new metallurgy process on more than one occasion.
"And right on time! Tell that tooth-trading dastard I appreciate the gesture. A little bit."
She had been prepared to part with some of her rations, so it only hurt a little bit as she doled him out a serving onto a square sheet of iron he was in the bad habit of using as a plate. Then she made a show of looking over his workshop with a bit of wonder on her face. "Mister Tesmon, what's the best weapon you've ever made? Was it that one sword the kid from the capital bought?"
This time Tesmon's laugh was more of a mischievous cackle. "Far from it! That was just the most expensive. Let me show you…" Carrying his plate in one hand a chunk of bread in the other, he walked her through the door to the old display room—now a well-cluttered storehouse. After stopping to mop up some of his hunter's stew before it drooled off his too-flat tray, he walked straight to one corner and gestured with his nose at a gleaming doppelhänder, well cared for, mounted on the wall.
"She was killed before she could pick it up…" He said solemnly. "This one's for killing monsters. Notice the lack of parrying hooks. Still, my finest work… Got all the sunscript on there and everything."
Perfect.
"Did you like her?" She couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, but not in that way. She was… one of those people that's hard to describe. I respect her. Always will."
Her face turned deadly serious. "Mister Tesmon." She let her voice carry all the gravity of her intentions. "I hate this, but… It's time. About that favor you owe me."
His hand halfway to his mouth, Tesmon turned his head to her, his face now graven with worry and wariness. "You're always free to ask…" His mouth almost didn't move, his face was so stony.
"I want to buy that sword."
For several seconds, his expression didn't change. Then he blinked.
"What?"
She didn't offer any more information, only let him continue to process her request.
"…Senna. Why would you want this sword?" He asked slowly.
"Could you also run me through your most cost-efficient options for lightweight armors?" She replied matter-of-factly.
It took him another several seconds to reply, his hand still holding his bread inches from his mouth. "Oh. But how do you need them fit? Do you have anybody particular in mind?"
"I need them to fit me."
Once again, the old man's brain-cogs took several turns before they could produce a sentence. "…Girl. What are you doing?"
For this moment, she returned to her familiar cheerfulness. "If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm not going to spoil it for you! But I do need them, and… pretty much immediately."
"Your father…?"
"Shouldn't know until the evening at least, if I want to keep him safe," she said, now with determined seriousness.
"Senna… I don't know the full situation, but it's easy enough to guess after—Well, I know things are tough for you right now, but… Please don't do anything rash…"
"Rash isn't the word for it, I don't think. So you don't have to worry about that at least."
"I… I can't. Your father… Even for that favor…"
"Then forget about the favor. You mistrust my judgment right now, but please believe that you don't want to know what will happen if I don't do this. You don't want to see what becomes of us in a matter of mere months. And Mister Tesmon, if you don't help me here, Darlem will." That did the trick—Tesmon wasn't particularly competitive, but he knew Darlem's stock could not rival his. And for someone he cared about to be using inferior armor…
It only took a moment for him to reach the conclusion she knew he would. Tesmon's face twisted in grief, as if he'd already lost her.
Her determination did not waver. "…I can't say I'm sorry, Tesmon. Only that I'll miss you. So dearly."
"Senna… I won't take your gold, girl. You're going to need it…"
• • •
Less than an hour later, she was at Trella's western gate. Tesmon had demanded that he accompany her this far, and now she could see him hesitate, knew he felt the need to make one last attempt to keep her here. She decided not to let him try.
"The truth is, Mister Tesmon, I can't say I'm sure how that noble will react. I don't know exactly how father will fare. Could you please, please stay with him? This will be the hardest moment in his life. He'll tell you that he'd rather come with me, but he can't. You know he can't. We wouldn't even be able to make it to Manara like he says. And don't let him take his wagon out to find me, I won't be on the main road. Just… Just tell him that when I see him again, I want to see him prospering and happy. I couldn't stand it any other way."
Tesmon only nodded. His face was one twitch away from breaking into utmost grief. She turned away… took one step, then another… As she was about to cross through the gateway, he called out—
"Senna. Senna, don't you die on us! Come back one day, before we're too old and rotted! What you're doing… it's harder than you imagine! But I know you, I know you can do it. It's the only reason I helped. Senna… I won't say goodbye… You'll come back one day, you will… Don't you die on us!!"
For the rest of her very, very, very long life, that was the last time she would ever be addressed as Senna.