My blade flashed downwards. Its arc was too wide and the edge caught on the dummy's shoulder incorrectly. The weapon's grip twisted in my grasp. I felt warm blood as a blister ripped on the leather. My breathing labored in long and heavy gasps. Thick clouds of fog slipped from my mouth. Sweat steamed from my bare shoulders and arms. I wore no armor. Dummies couldn't strike back and my reach and height were both far too short for bouts against my father's knights. That wasn't to say I was short. I'm not. For being only four years of age that is.
"My Lady, you should stop for the day." My trainer, an older man by the name of Teller, stood a few feet from me. His hawkish eyes had been watching and cataloguing every flaw I made. No doubt he was shaking his head at my last feeble attempt of a swing. I was weaker than most children my age, which includes commoners. They tend to put their points from their growth levels into Strength. Though some chose to put them into Dexterity too. Very few decided to put them in any other Attribute. Except for nobles. They always thought that expending their natural six points across all Attributes was the wisest course of action. I thought they were all fools for doing so. Of course, looking at my Father's example proved just how well it could work.
Growth levels were strange as I came to find out. They consisted of ten total levels. A child would level up naturally as they aged up until they were twelve years of age. You could gain levels outside of ageing, but only by accomplishing certain difficult tasks. Such as I have done twice, though only one was from my own actions. The second was a gift. Just like some of the things in my Character Sheet. Anyways, out of my six levels, only four of them are natural growth levels. If I don't attempt to gain anymore levels the hard way I should reach level ten by the time I am ten years of age. Quite a bit earlier than the average. Though I have read tales of children reaching level ten as early as six years of age.
A forced cough brought me out of my thoughts. Teller stood there. His left arm held behind his back; his right hand in a fist over his mouth. Sometimes the man looked like nothing less than the epitome of servitude. I knew otherwise. I do not mean to say the man was anything less than loyal. Just that he wasn't loyal to me. The man was my father's eyes and ears. It is a strange feeling. To know that you are, by your mere existence, distrusted by your own flesh and blood. It feels wrong.
I nodded my assent to Teller, passing my blade into his hands as I did so. I do not think my father is a bad man, but I do think he is haunted by demons he once thought buried. I know very little about his past. I know even less about my mother's. No one will speak of her. She passed of sickness when I turned one. It had been long fought, her body and soul suffering for months. Angard was unable to do anything to save her, though he did conduct her last rights to Ank. I did not attend. Not because I didn't want to. It was because I physically couldn't. My personal maid, Astrid, and I were told to stay in my room for the duration of the ceremony. I at first thought that it had to do with my quietness. It was not. My sisters blamed me for her death. They claimed that had I not been born our mother would not have been so weak. I knew this was false, but the servants didn't. And the servants spoke. I am not allowed to come out when visitors arrive. In fact, the last one, Duke Turgain from the territory to the south and west, even brought up my existence as if it was a myth made up by the common folk.
I led the way to my quarters from the auxillary training yard. Since my sisters are at the Emperor's University now I have a full wing of the keep to myself. Only a handful worked there. I took a glance over my shoulder. Teller still loomed over me, one of his brows cocked upwards as his eyes met mine. I didn't say anything to him, merely turned my head back around and kept going straight. I was fairly confident that Teller knew I could talk. I was also fairly confident that the man took some enjoyment from this particular charade I've been maintaining. I don't mind. I find that a lot of doors open when people think of you as a mute. It's strange, the number of individuals who think I can't hear because I don't speak. I have heard some of the strangest plots in the keep just by walking by two servants in a discussion.
As Teller and I rounded the corner I caught sight of Astrid. She stood in front of my chambers with a plate from the kitchens. It was made of low silver and set on an oak tray. I knew what it was before the smell reached my nose. Cod stuffed with onions, carrots, and potatoes. Delicious. I knew it was as it had been the meal I've eaten since my mother passed.
The rest of Astrid was impeccable, as she always was. Not a single one of her near platinum hairs slipped from the bindings of her bonnet. A pretty, if common, face watched me walk down the hallway. I wouldn't run and she did not expect me to. It's a strange bit of custom common amongst nobles to never hurry themselves for the sake of others. That is, of course, except for another noble of higher rank in the social and political ladders. The relationships of nobles were strange and convoluted. Take my father for example. A man with supposedly immense political power due to the amount of land and precious resources he has access to. However, my father is increasingly removed from the workings of the Emperor's court and has little social power to throw around. As such, his political power is rather hollow. Especially compared to Earl Jacoby of the Greggis Duchy along the Empire's eastern border. He is only an Earl along the duchy's western border, away from the constant skirmishes with the elves, but he has close personal friendships among many of the higher ranked nobles. There are rumours that he even sponsors the Emperor's brother, Arch-Duke Constus Scidia. As such, the Earl's social power near eclipses his political power and makes it worth more for less. The cobwebs of noble interplay make very little sense to the average individual, which includes most nobles. Truth be told I have a remarkably difficult time keeping them straight in my head as well.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
My maid's eyes were locked on to Teller, a slight frown on her lips. I found out not too terribly long ago that Astrid and my incessant shadow had a past together. I do not know the specifics but my general dislike for Teller makes me want to believe that he crossed her in some manner. Nevertheless, the woman's dull grey eyes followed our little procession. When I reached the door she opened it gracefully. She is opening my door not entirely because she is my servant, though that does play a small part in the gesture. She mostly does it as the door is simply too heavy for me to move. I learned early on that having obnoxiously heavy doors was one of the best ways to child-proof a room.
"Mister Teller," Her voice sent shivers down my spine. I was personally used to the almost motherly way the woman spoke to me, so whenever I heard the sheer venom in her voice when Teller was concerned the change always made me a bit scared.
"Do not worry. I was merely escorting the Lady from her practice." Tellers voice came out smooth and unflappable. But he couldn't trick me. The corners of his eyes always tightened a tad whenever he talked to Astrid. If it was from regret or disgust I haven't quite figured out. I heard Astrid give a quick huff as she closed my door in Teller's face. I was far accustomed to this little ritual the two always played out. When Astrid and Teller were first assigned to me I thought that my maid would kill the man. Thankfully that hasn't yet happened. I'm used to Teller and I would hate to have to familiarize myself with another of my father's spies.
Astrid, on the other hand, is loyal to me.
I could hear the woman shuffle through the layers of her skirts, still holding my meal with expert precission. My eyes scanned the finery of my room. Low silver laced through the furniture. Inlays of bronze and copper adorned my wardrobe and desk. The furniture was made up of grey ironwood and the walls painted a light blue. There was a bookshelf against one wall filled with copies of the Empire's history. It includes the military, political, and economic histories as well as some of the genealogical histories of certain families. I also had a copy of Coats of Arms of Scidia: A complete Record in the Year 3422 illustrated and written by one High Scholar Andreas Greggis of the Greggis Dukedom. Andreas Greggis became the youngest High Scholar in the Empire when he wrote that book two years ago. As of today the man is only twenty-two years old. It is one of my goals to eventually meet the man. The importance of the work is tantamount as it doesn't cover just Scidia proper, which has only really existed the past 1032 years, but also the surrounding kingdoms and peoples that where conquered by Scidia of old. Though it was then known as Angleburs. The work starts to enter the realm of assumption and guesswork in the early years of Angleburs. However the author makes it clear that they are assumptions and guesswork and should never be taken as fact.
Turning back to Astrid I reached my hand out to accept the papers she had undoubtedly fetched for me. I had been paying the post master quite handsomely, most of my allowance in fact, for him to copy any letters that arrived for my father. He, of course, didn't know it was me doing it. I had snagged some personal effects of Duke Turgain the last time he visited and paid a common man to wear them and pay off the post master. He passes off the letters to that same common man who then gives them to Astrid. I pay the Post Master by merely sending a package whose details and seal mark it as being from the very same Duke. I was nigh on certain that Teller didn't know about this as he spent all his time at my side and thus could not watch Astrid. I've also given my middle man instructions to flee to a safe house in Skip, a coastal town along Norland's western coast. I happen to own a property there through a false name. I've already bought his loyalty though I do not yet know his name. Neither does he know Astrid's true name. I had decided on this as an additional layer of security in my plots.
I do not think that my charade with the letters will last forever, but in the meantime I can keep myself informed. I scanned the contents of the letters. Most were of the food shortages along our northern reaches. I do not say border as my father's lands simply do not have a border to the north. His control just seems to fade in any meaningful way. There are reports of raiders along our eastern coast. I immediately skipped over those. The raids were constant, though they do pick up during summer. They come from the archipelago to the east. I'm sure it has an actual name but everyone just calls it Villrúm, which is a contraction of three words in Old Heimál. The first part, Vill, is a contraction of vinr, which means friend, and illr which means evil or bad. Rúm just means bed. The three together literally translates to "The bed of evil friends" in Empire Common. I find Villrúm to be a much faster and easier name. The majority of the letters are about trade deals with the other Duchies. Of which the only decent one is with Duke Greggis. Sadly, the only export that Norland is lauded for are our soldiers. And the only territory in the Empire that experiences nigh constant battle is Greggis. The rest of them are practically robbery, but the north needs grains. Our own fields are far too small now. They used to be larger but the glaciers swallowed up a large portion of it roughly 200 years ago. Since then Norland has slowly been starving.
The last few are from Duke Turgain. The man disgusted me. His monetary power was sickening. The only good thing is that the man is a complete and utter fool so his word means next to nothing. But gold is still gold.
I didn't bother reading them as there would be very little reason to do so. Opening a false bottom in my wardrobe I placed a block of ice in a cup and the various papers next to it. With a pulse a red, almost blood-like, sphere emerged from my palm. I did not need to hide the entity. No one but me could see it anyways. As it emerged fully it looked like one of the several wisps that still danced around me, except for the coloration and thickness of the creature. It was far slower than its peers, or I should say far slower than it used to be. This particular wisp has been with me since I was born, and when I nearly died from harming my own lifeline the little buggard bonded itself to me. I watched for a moment as the creature started to scan the pages. Closing the bottom of my wardrobe I turned back to Astrid, who stood ready with my meal and a basket of beauty products.