Fable - Ask Learning Never Exhausts The Mind [Lady Briseis]

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Briseis' slender brows arched with genuine interest as the topic turned to Ciraxis' bloodline. In a quick, almost stumbling manner, she blurted out, "No... I mean, yes, it would very much interest me." Her skin flushed, and a sheepish laugh escaped her lips. She shook her head at herself before meeting Lord Errune's gaze with an awkward grimace.

"May I be honest with you?" she asked hesitantly, adjusting herself to a more casual perch on a nearby desk. "You... make me incredibly nervous." She wrung her fingers together, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, watching him anxiously, hoping to avoid any ire.

"Shiva and the others are kind. They dress me like a noblewoman, I think..." she glanced down at her dress with a frown. "And they try to teach me the right things to say and such. But it's all so much, and the truth is, everyone makes me nervous. But you, more so, though perhaps not as much as Lady Cressida," she paused and cleared her throat, restraining herself from delving further into that particular subject. "Gods, I'm being too honest, aren't I?" she muttered rhetorically, tucking a stray tress of chestnut hair behind her ear as she returned her gaze to his.

"I suppose I am struggling to simply fit in with such an... impressive community of people. And I know what most of them think of me.. It is difficult to be a slave one day and a Lady the next, Lord Errune, though I am trying to learn," she sighed, her words carrying the weight of sincerity and the earnest effort to navigate this unfamiliar world.

"I would very much like to continue with the tour.." she nodded, offering a tight smirk. "If you'll continue to tolerate me."
 
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Lord Errune blinked at the sudden fluttering of words from the young woman's mouth. He was not especially accustomed to women being so out of sorts around him, given his usual company ... when he kept any. Though for certain he had seen such fluster out of his young Apprentices. Ah, youth. So horribly unrefined and inexperienced. Their fumblings a constant source of wear on the Head Archivist's patience.

The comment about Lady Cressida garnered a slight twitch of his nose that Cress would recognize as the broken remnants of his once lively sense of humor.

His expression remained immutable otherwise. Sympathy though he had for her plight, he'd long since lost the ability to emote much more than consternation through his ever-present pain. Though he did attempt to soften it now that he was aware of how she felt. He never meant to intimidate or scare - those days of bravado were gone with his dragon on the distant battle fields of his memory.

"You would do well to keep the company of Lady Cressida," Rune replied, the sharp edges of his tone dulled by the fondness he held for the Lady in question, "she is as strong of heart as she is of arm and a more honorable, true friend you will not find among the court. Heed her words well. She will not lead you astray."

He had once entrusted his life to her, and would still if he was not so willing for his life and suffering to end.

"You will not ever fit in with the Court," he continued, his voice slightly lower, "they will never truly accept you because of who you once were. They will speak pretty words to you in public and eviscerate you in private. You will always get their truth when they think you are not looking or listening. It is simply the way of things, even for other nobles." His mind shortly recalled the stares, the whispers, the stories spread around the court about him after the death of his son and wife ... his dragon. When he returned from his recovery to work in the Archives, he overheard the misgivings spoken within his domain.

He did not care about any of them.

"I say this not to scare you, Lady Briseis. It behooves you to know what life you have entered, what game you are now party to. Find the ones who truly mean you well and keep them close. Everyone else... most of them are not half as impressive as they would have you think. Simply lucky." His eyes rolled in distaste at the thought of them.

TANG. He stamped his cane sharply on the tile, "Now, if you will follow me, the Lineage of Scales is this way..."
 
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Hazel eyes followed his movements, discerning the subtle nuances in his expressions, seeking to understand the complexities that lay behind striking green eyes. If her words caused him any offence she'd die where she stood, but instead, he offered her advice and honesty, and she listened in silence.

Her brows slowly lifted and her smile grew until it was something rare and radiant. She wondered if he realised how uncommon such truths were, and it frightened her far less to know that at least someone was willing to speak them to her.

"I know." she nodded. She had been a slave. She had been looked down upon her entire life and had never known any different, of course she would never truly belong amongst the nobility of Thanasis. But that wasn't what frightened her. What frightened her was how much she had to learn, and how quickly she had to learn it. What frightened her was that when she was ready, she'd have to fight. That her dragon's life was as much in her hands as hers was in his. That there were people whom she knew that conspired to open her throat at the first opportunity and that she might as well have been an infant in such circumstances.

Briseis flinched at the sharp sound of his cane against the floor, but she laughed softly under her breath and hopped down from the desk. "Thank you for your candour, Lord Errune." she smiled up at him, her hands folding in front of her in effort to stop her fidgeting with this ridiculous dress. Perhaps he might mean her well. Perhaps he didn't care enough either way, but at least he was honest.

"How long have you.." she paused, did nobility 'work'?.."Cared for the archives?" she asked curiously, her gaze scanning her surroundings as she followed. "You must know all there is to know about Thanasis and Dragons.." she laughed under her breath, her mind wondering at quite how much knowledge was here at his fingertips.
 
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"Four years," Rune replied without any need to tabulate the time, "though I have served as the Head Archivist for only one."

He moved not with haste or grace but a purposeful uneven gait, every second stride accompanied by a softer tang of his cane. They moved through another gallery of artifacts, tapestries, and paintings. More dragon skulls. Weapons of lore. He did not know the history of every piece by heart, but he knew where to look should the need arise.

Beyond, they walked a hall of stacks were the older scrolls and tomes were stored. It smelled heavily of old paper and leather.

Past that, another hall of stacks featuring newer additions and copies. The aroma of fresh parchment and tanins, as well as ink and paint filled the spaces between the stacks. This room was larger and hosted spaces for study and work. Many people milled about or hunched over piles of knowledge, looking up to the visitors and making way for the Lord and Lady. Rune turned left toward the far wall and the dozens of floor to ceiling windows of stained glass. There toward the center of the hall in a broad open space sat a book the size of a large child on a plinth that looked like it could have supported the weight of two horses. The entire display sat upon a dais two steps above floor level. Like a throne for the Emperor of the Archival domain, the ornate detail of the railings surrounding the desk and the glow of light from the windows cast it leagues above everything else.

The book rested open, cut at its first quarter of pages.

"I know more than most," Errune replied, "because that is my duty. Please," he gestured with his free hand offered for Briseis to ascend the dais and take the seat there, "it has been prepared for your visit."
 
The grandeur of the hall with its towering stacks and ornate architecture left her breathless. The stained glass windows painted stories of dragons and riders, capturing the essence of the world she now found herself a part of.

Briseis realised, after he'd answered her, that she ought to be more careful with her questions. Her thoughts drifted to the tales of Lord Errune's injury, a constant companion etched into every step he took. The cane he leaned on, the subtle traces of pain that lingered in his eyes—all signs of battles fought not only on the field but within the confines of his own body. She recalled the stories she'd heard spoken of him, of his dragon and of his family, and she couldn't fathom the resilience required to face each day, each moment, with a constant reminder.

As they approached the dais with the colossal book, Briseis couldn't help but feel a mix of reverence and trepidation. She ascended the steps as gracefully as she could manage and settled into the prepared seat.

The book before her was a masterpiece, its pages adorned with elegant scriptures and intricate paintings. A depiction of a white dragon curled in the corner caught her eye, and she couldn't help but pale at the realisation that Lord Errune expected her to read from this monumental tome.

"It's so beautiful.." she breathed, her eyes dancing across the finely painted pages. For a moment, she pretended to be absorbed in the page's contents. The weight of the knowledge within those pages felt immense, and Gods, she wanted to know every word of it.

A soft murmur escaped her lips, "Fascinating,"..

"All known Dragons are in here?.."
 
The Head Archivist waited for her to be seated before making the arduous struggle of ascending the short set of steps to the top of the dais to join her. Dismissing the offer of aid from a passing Intern, Rune gently cleared his throat as his weight settled upon the top level and with a pinched, brusque breath that hopefully did not fully bely the effort expended. He schooled his expression to look over the pages alongside her.

Rune allowed her what time she wanted to openly peruse the two swathes of beautiful history before her, his own eyes tracking the lineages posed before them on the bloodline of Ciraxis. Her dragon's name appeared toward the middle of the page and he noted with no small amount of honed attention that she had not noticed where the mount's previous rider had his name etched out by ink to be replaced with her own.

His suspicions of her may had been correct, after all.

"Hardly," Errune replied, "there are countless others within the wilds beyond the wall. We trace the ancestry of all known lineages within Thanasis' noble families. In two days time I will begin my rounds for the annual Census to update our registries for each bloodline."

"Wyld dragons are near impossible to track with any sure accuracy. We simply cannot account for the cross of individuals into new clutches ... if we can even claim to have any remote knowledge of all the nests beyond our realm, which we cannot."

To say nothing of the devastating danger it posed to even wander into their territories, let alone near the nests. Though they did try and there were people crazy enough to volunteer for such a venture, but Rune was not and never would be one of them.

"Do you see the great ancestry your dragon hails from?" he queried quietly, expectantly. There were three different bloodline trees on the two pages before her and he watched closely for the final tell.
 
The effort etched on the man's face did not escape her notice as he ascended the dais, though she didn't dare risk him confusing concern with pity and a silent respect for the man's strength settled in her chest. To think that his physical pain was not even the worst of it..

She continued to admire the intricate beauty of the pages laid open as she listened to Errune speak, but beneath the veneer of engagement, an unease gnawed at her and dropped like a stone into the pit of her stomach as he questioned her. She cast a fleeting glance at him, and then back to the elegant script, her eyes darting from one letter to another, but the unfamiliar symbols eluded her understanding.

"Hmm.."

In that moment, the charade of literacy wavered, and the truth threatened to unravel. In all of her years she had never felt so absolutely useless as she did right now. She might as well have asked him to chew her meals and feed her like an infant bird.

Fingertips slipped from the page with a quiet sigh and hazel eyes rose to the mercy of piercing greens as she shook her head apologetically. Words alluded her, as though they might bring her any more shame than she already felt, all too visible on her burning cheeks.
 
The Lord Archivist held her gaze as she looked up at him, a cowed pup caught with some priceless effect in its jowls, chewed and torn and guilty as charged. His expression changed not, remaining the ever inscrutable and forever suffering slate of stone. Bending at the waist just over her shoulder, Rune pointed a finger to Ciraxis' mark on the tree where his former handler's name had been scratched out to be replaced by Briseis'. His finger hovered over the page, respecting the time and effort it took for some highly-skilled and experienced scribe to painstakingly etch every letter to perfection in its place.

"He is here," Errune indicated, "preceded by his progenitors..." and a list of other dragon names and short histories followed, though he stopped after the third ancestral generation having noted the shade of pinking on the young Lady's cheeks darken with every passing moment.

"Indeed there is much to learn of your dragon that does not require his presence. The better informed you are of his bloodlines and forebears, the more you may understand."

Then the man leaned down further, his hand coming to rest on the edge of the table that supported the great tome as he hovered just over Bri's left side. When he spoke again, his already deep voice had dropped an octave and was just loud enough for her to hear, "A Noble who cannot read lives in vulnerability beyond their scope. You will attend my office five days a week in the evenings under the pretense of the study of history and lineage of our people and dragons. You will rise above this ignorance. I will see to it personally... and do not attend my office in such a wardrobe again. This is a place of study, not fanciful froppery. Your lady's maids should have known better."

Straightening himself, Rune gently cleared his throat and turned to begin the task of descending the dais, "That concludes your tour of the Archives, Lady Briseis. I must return to my work. Linger as long as you please, one of the attendants will see you out when you are ready."
 
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As Lord Errune leaned in to speak quietly to her, Briseis felt a rush of shame and embarrassment wash over her like a tidal wave, drowning out any semblance of composure she might have mustered. His words struck her with a force she hadn't expected, and the weight of her inadequacies pressed down upon her. Yet, amidst the overwhelming sense of burning humiliation, there was a flicker of gratitude for his discretion.

'A Noble who cannot read lives in vulnerability beyond their scope...'

She knew he was right—that her illiteracy left her vulnerable, exposed to the whims and machinations of those who sought to exploit her weaknesses. And now, her inadequacy had been laid bare before Lord Errune, leaving her feeling even smaller and all the more insignificant in his presence.

The thought of facing her illiteracy head-on, of baring her vulnerabilities to Lord Errune day after day, filled her with a sense of trepidation. Though his words were a harsh indictment of her failings, despite the dread she felt at the prospect of such lessons, there was a kindness in the way he offered her guidance. But she knew it was necessary, and she had been about to speak...

And then came the final blow—the scrutiny over her attire. The reminder of her failed attempts to fit in, of her misguided efforts to please Kaveh's wives, only served to deepen her humiliation. She felt utterly ridiculous. She wanted to disappear, wished for the ground to open beneath her feet and swallow her whole. All she could do was lower her gaze and remain silent, nodding quickly whilst unable to meet his eyes as the heat of embarrassment radiated from her burning cheeks.

As the man concluded the tour and made his departure, Briseis remained rooted to the spot. She waited until the moment the sound of his cane faded into the distance, and only then did she rise from the dais and flee from the archives.
 
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