The worst of the illness had passed. The fever had died down and Laesara could now wake, sleep, and eat normally. She could read and even train a little. A very little. She had lost much of her flesh and strength in the fight against the darkness, and it was a long process restoring her to what she had had. But, though she longed to train and hunt and travel more than a few rooms away, she was patient. She had no choice but to be.
So she made the most of her recovery, tackling correspondence and education with verve. Her mind, it seemed, was recovered. Sanity ruled where shadows had once deigned to reside. She read in a chair near her balcony, wrapped in a blanket with food and water nearby.
Aestival was nearby, sunning himself on the balcony and absorbing the goddess-given light as his magic allowed him, when he suddenly stirred. “Mistress. They are here.” he murmured, staring intensely out into the yard with his luminous green eyes.
“Ah.” Laesara slipped the book she was reading –
On Blood Magic and it's Curses – into a safe hiding place nearby. “Good. Very good.” She selected a less questionable book – a favorite on military strategy - “I am glad they came.” she said, stroking his face as he approached her.
“I am too...” he replied. In truth, it was his desire that a priest visit them in their chambers. Apparently, during her illness, he had taken to praying devoutly, something to do with the goddess's light and guidance. Laesara was not nearly so religious, but this meant a lot to Aestival, and it was becoming evident to her that her illness was not of a natural origin. He may very well have needed the goddess's light to help her.
She couldn't yet walk to the house shrine – it was too far and there were too many stairs for her weakened body to manage at this point – so if she was to receive Seren's comfort and express her gratitude, it would have to be through an intermediary. Also, who better to ask for advice in warding off curses than a priest?
“Why don't you meet them and bring them upstairs?” she asked, smiling at her bonded.
Aestival shifted nervously. He did not like to leave her alone, for no reason other than it made him uncomfortable. “Hmm...” he said, uncertain.
“You'll be back with me soon...” she pushed him gently, “Go. Guide them here.”
Aestival hesitated, but nodded. He would never disobey her and he did want to meet them.
He trotted through the hallways and down the stairs, his claws clattering loudly on the stone floor as he made his way, briskly, to the door...
~~~
A family of old money and power, the Wymriths had many estates, in Ashen city alone. This estate, however, had an expansive, falsely wild garden, full of trees and water features and paths. Wisps of light magic lit the paths and gazebos at night, like a wood out of a children's story.
The mansion itself, of course, was fairly typical – white stone, imposing architecture, ivy upon the walls to give it a sense of age and grandeur, and servants. Servants everywhere. Had Laesara been well, she would have been out in the garden studying, but alas, the outdoors was as yet forbidden to her.
Inside the mansion, every wall had at least one trophy. Arranged tastefully throughout were the heads and expertly taxidermied bodies of beasts, artworks found in far off places, the ornate bound weapons of former foes, statues of strength and beauty... The place positively overwhelmed visitors with it's ferocity and wealth. Each object had a story, a part of Lord Baelen Wymrith's narrative of strength... though a few of the trophies were his daughter's as well, Laesara's narrative woven into his own.
It was an imposing place.
Reply
