They say there was a storm.
That it blew in swiftly in the night after the seven Royal Trading Fleet ships left port. They detail how the winds raged over the sea like a scorned lover out for revenge. They look deep into the eyes of their audience as they describe how it separated each board and nail of the ships, as if it were meticulously searching for something it knew it would find. They’ve whispered this to each other for 15 years now, with wide eyes, as if speaking of it would bring it to life again. They blame the God of the Sea, Taeyar, who used his divine power to take from us our Queen Amira and her dear baby boy. They needed to believe it was Fate that dragged them to the sea.
Aster believed it too, for a while. After she was old enough to be told her mother and baby brother weren’t coming back. When she grew even older Princess Aster came to realize that these intentional self deceptions merely covered the pain of the event, while accepting the mundane truth could help it to heal. That it was just a normal storm, a made up story, and a loss turned into a tragedy.
Besides, if you were going to be successful at business you couldn’t walk around believing every tearful tale and tutter that crawled its way into your ears. Aster's mother had told her that just before she had sailed off. There isn’t much she really remembered from her mother besides little lines of wisdom like this. She always whispered them to Aster, bent over with a hand on her shoulder, like she was imparting some great secret and her little girl was the only one worthy of hearing it.
Which, she supposed, was true in a way. She is the only daughter of the late Queen Amira, making her the only heir to the Kingdom of Bar. She has been prepared every day of her life for the day she would come of age and wear the silver and sapphire crown her mother once had. However, she still had another year before she turned twenty-five, and in the meantime her father was a good King Regent. That isn’t to say she was completely without responsibility, of course. The young lady was frequently in and out of one meeting or another, negotiating trade agreements and contracts. It seemed the whole continent wanted to insure their related ties to Bar would be safe following inauguration.
She left one such meeting about midday, standing in front of the large door to the meeting hall while she watched castle guards escort the Ambassador of Winsle and his lawyers somewhere far, far away from her. The pleasant smile she had been wearing disappeared as soon as they were out of sight. Her formal posture relaxed some as she approached her dutiful assistant who was waiting nearby for instruction.
“This is the only appointment I had today, yes?”
“Yes my Lady, only one for today. Your next meeting will be two weeks from today with the Duke Harrover to discuss the seasonal wheat tax.” Germaine replied with a slight smoothness to his accent as though he had intentionally preserved it, despite rarely having the chance to speak his natural flowery language in the decade since he left his birthplace.
“Good. Dealing with Duke Harrover and his greasy lawyers is always a headache. I’d rather not have to deal with that mess until after my brothers ship has made dock.” Aster begins removing the many pins holding her oaken hair into braids. Germaine immediately held out a wide palm to collect them and made a note in his ledger to return them to the hairdresser Lanaya in the morning. “If anyone asks, I've gone down to the shore to work on a painting and I may be gone the remainder of the day.”
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The tall man penciled the instructions as well. “And If I ask, my Lady?” He inquired in the same formal tone without looking up from his writing.
“If you ask,” She gives him a mischievous smile. “I’d say I've very nearly run out of pigments.” She gave Germaine an obvious wink that made him crack an amused smirk of his own.
“Very well my Lady.” He snapped his book shut as they both came to a halt and faced each other at the edge of the staircase that would lead to the Princess’s apartments.
Aster places her hands on her hips and strikes an over dramatic face that has been dubbed “The Very Serious Queen Face” by her friends.
“In the meantime, Mr. Chontelle, I expect you to be taking some time to rest. It’ll do me no good to have my only assistant slip because of weariness.Dismissed.” She stuck her nose up in the air in a mock haute fashion that made Germaine laugh genuinely as he bowed at the waist.
“As you will it, Your Majesty, it shall be done.” He turned to walk away from the staircase and wave at the Princess, who had dropped her ridiculous character and was smiling instead. She was always pleased when she could make someone laugh. “Be safe as you venture out, Lady Aster.”
“I will Germaine, thank you.” Aster giggled and began to make her way up the stone steps towards her rooms. When she emerged again some time later, she had replaced her elegant embroidered silk dress and soft slippers with something more discreet, yet still fine.
A comfortable emerald green dress of soft cotton with slits on the sides of her skirt up to her mid thigh and sleeves that came down about three quarters of the way, to allow for more range of movement. With plain grey trousers made to fit underneath, she also wore sturdy leather boots meant for walking that she hid a small pouch of coins in to protect from pickpockets. The only jewelry she wore to accompany was a lovely silver chain necklace around her neck. Her long hair was pulled back with a simple grey ribbon to complete the image of a moderately successful merchant that was common among The Garden. A nickname given to the market square of Fjorna’s upper class district, The Garden is where Aster liked to escape to when the monotony of royal tasks became irritating.
Aster made long strides down the hall with heeled boots clacking as her footsteps landed. As she reached a modest wooden door she slowed down, her stone grey eyes casually checking no one was within view before confidently stepping through into the servants halls.
It took her twenty minutes in all to reach The Garden from the castle gates. It was a beautiful day. The sun was bright and warm in the sky, while just enough of a breeze brewed to keep the heat under control. Moving assuredly, Aster weaved her way through the crowd, taking no notice of the bumping of shoulders while her senses devoured her surroundings. It seemed everyone in the city planned to take full advantage of the perfect weather. Hundreds of people crowded the market square, rushing about from shop to shop to shop. The cafe’s and taverns around the square had brought tables out in front of their venues where they were nearly all full of colorfully dressed nobles with quick servers dancing between the tables with trays held high. It was a cacophony of life surrounding her that drew her back to this place time and time again. That, and Nora’s Pigments.
Nora Yarrow had a reputation for having the best paints and dyes in Fjorna, which Aster felt was well deserved. She had been buying all of her paints from Nora since she was old enough to sneak out of the castle. The disguised Aster found her way instinctively to the bright yellow shop and stepped through to the familiar greeting.
“Hello! Nora here, I’ll be with you in just a moment.” A cheery voice called from a doorway behind a counter. Shortly thereafter a tall spindly woman with a mass of grey hair pinned atop her head strode into view. The grandmotherly woman whipped her hands on what she’s certain used to be a white painter's smock that was stained with so many colors it could have been more paint than fabric.
When she saw Aster standing at the counter her face lit up like a lamp. “Iris, my dear! Oh it’s so good to see you again! How are you? It’s been too long, my girl, too long. I have this lovely violet hughe I’ve been working on recently that I must show you.”