Private Tales Settling In

[Vel'duith]

“O Zar’Ahal, thy Valsharess returns
Corded arms and shoulders, crownèd brow of silver, her fury burns
All who stood against her fell beneath her barèd blade, now she turns…”

Vel’duith scratched the comically pompous paean lines out annoyedly with her quill. She lamented that Ispir Sione had left so abruptly; he doubtlessly could have improved upon her composition. It seemed so effortless whenever he burst into song, as in the Croghear courtyard the night after her arrival. While she had always harbored a love of music and had practiced her lyre as often as she could steal a moment to, she completely lacked the bard’s spontaneity and ease. As much as she yearned to sing out her hopes for Vyx’aria’s reborn reign, perhaps this composition would best be an instrumental.

At least that part sounded right. She had started with twinned pangs of loss over somberly shifting roots in a melancholy dirge, searching uncertainly for future reprieve over the briefest lilt of an ephemeral major step, before falling back to despairing. Then a touch and go counterpoint cut in, the countermelody steadily gaining prominence before finally pulling the other voice along with it into a soaring, turning rise. Finally, a proclamation on high, answered with rising harmonies below, with all voices sharing and repeating the triumphant theme to one another.

It had almost felt like something within the lyre itself yearned to come out, inspiring her fingers as they string-stopped, plucked, blocked, strummed, and quavered. A second touch of a spirit past, equally spurred to song by the happy event. A spirit that didn’t mind her intrusion into its onetime retreat, that welcomed her additions and adjustments. And for her part, Vel’duith took care to only change what she truly felt she needed in the room she borrowed, sensing the sanctity of what remained from the past, and appreciating the beauty and elegance of what had been left for her to find.

Vel’duith finally surrendered to her writer’s block, deciding the lyricless piece alone was fit to share. She frowned and fretted a bit as she walked the hall with the lyre tucked securely under one arm, and a stool under the other; she was already several days too late for it to be a timely coronation gift. Seeing Vyx’aria at ease in the courtyard, she found a spot she felt would acoustically benefit her performance, set down the stool, and softly tuned the strings.

And then, she began to play.

Vyx'aria

 

[Vyx'aria]

Days of celebrations and obligation had finally loosened their grip. The courtyard lay untouched in the afterglow of celebration, and Vyx’aria had claimed a spot in it.

She sat sprawled with unqueenly ease upon a stone bench, one leg extended, the other bent, her back braced against the armrest, silver-edged pages held loosely in one calloused hand. A romance novel, well-worn despite its finery. Her crimson eyes tracked the lines with intent focus, the world narrowed to whispered confessions and dangerous affections. For once, the crown was forgotten.

Then she heard the gentle music.

The first notes threaded through the air. Vyx’aria’s gaze lifted at once, sharp by instinct, only to soften as she found Vel’duith setting her stool, lyre cradled with care.

A faint smile touched the Valsharess’s mouth.

She said nothing. She did not move.

The book remained open in her hand as she leaned back and listened, allowing the melody to fill the space where words, decrees, and audiences had finally fallen silent.

 

[Vel'duith]

Vel'duith smiled and continued through her composition, starting with an easy rubato, letting the lyre's chiming rebounds themselves help fix the tempo to best suit the courtyard's acoustics. The piece started soft and sad, shifting to a slowly building middle section with a harmony voice taking over the lead. Then she let the notes rang out proudly as she hit the triumphant section with the voices answering one another with the uplifiting theme. She got slightly carried away, not quite muting one of the non-sympathetic strings, but quickly fixed it and played through it, albeit with a fleeting wince. Finally, the last chord rang out, and she stayed seated until the echoes faded before rising and bowing gracefully, then descending the stairs circling into the courtyard. A broad grin tugged at her lips as she recognized all the telltale traits of a volume of leatherbound, silver-limned Allirian smut. Her voice had a tinkle of restrained laughter in it as she greeted the queen.

"Pray forgive my intrusion, Valsharess. I see that you are wrestling with an important matter of state... I could return a bit later, if you wish?"

Vyx'aria

 

[Vyx'aria]

When one of the strings went slightly off, Vyx’aria’s ears twitched the slightest bit. But she otherwise remained relaxed in her seat. Vel’duith’s words drew out a smirk as she tilted her head, raising a silver brow.

“Sarcasm at the expense of the Queen can be seen as a punishable offense, you know,” she said, though her tone conveyed the jest. She had no shame about what she was reading.

“Do you not have vices of your own?” She asked, “Reading impossible love stories happens to be one of mine.”

 

[Vel'duith]

Vel’duith grinned wickedly as she walked behind the Queen’s bench, taking hold of the bench-back near Vyx’aria’s shoulders. Her fingers gave the carved stony bevel at its edge a slight, placebic knead.

“My vices? Why, I suppose it depends whom you ask, Valsharess. Wine, certainly. ‘Poking the dragon’ is perhaps another? As for what seems to comprise the main cultural export of the Kingdom of Alliria, I could hardly call it a vice myself. No actual addling of senses or reckless endangerment.. If I might dare pry, Valsharess , which is the already-engaged noble and which the pauper barbarian in this ill-starred liaison?”

Vyx'aria

 

[Vyx'aria]

She turned a page with deliberate care, one long nail tracing the margin before she folded the corner ever so slightly, a silent admission that she would return to that passage later.

Only then did her crimson gaze tilt upward, catching Vel’duith in her peripheral vision as the bard leaned over the bench.

“Have you ever walked Alliria’s streets, Vel’duith?”

Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of calculation beneath it.

“I find myself curious. Our newest surface acquaintance-” she let the faintest smirk ghost across her lips at the mention of Xeraphine Yldore, “-would have us believe it teeters perpetually upon ruin. Corruption, decadence, moral collapse. One wonders if the situation is truly so dire… or if surface nobles simply enjoy the sound of their own lamentations.”

She hummed thoughtfully, lowering her gaze back to the book in her lap.

“As for my tale…” A faint, amused exhale slipped from her. “A wealthy noble lady. Betrothed, by duty and arrangement, to a fearsome knight of impeccable lineage.” Her brow arched slightly. “Very dutiful. Very correct.”

Her finger tapped the page once.

“Yet her affections burn most inconveniently for the stableboy.”

She closed the book halfway, holding her place.

 

[Vel'duith]

Vel'duith smiled as Vyx'aria turned. Her hands kneaded the carved stone placebo shoulders again.

“I have not, Valsharess. The swamp you brought me to where the portal stone rested is the only Allirian soil I have yet seen. Was this acquaintance the tall, dark one, or the buxom madam of those surface courtesans? I should not mind accompanying you there one day, either way.”

She laughed lightly at the description of the story, tiptoeing and craning over to see the tapped page a little better.

“Alas for her! Why, Valsharess, that tale reminds me of my days after cadre. Vallabha’Ilhar..." She paused, swallowing, then continuing. "Well, she wished me to pursue K’mindu Myrlochar. Handsome as a statue, and nearly as witty. Threw the most charming temper-tantrums upon even the slightest setback. But I only had eyes for Orebith! -A shebali swordswoman from Lowtown. I never learned exactly where. Were my story bound in silver-limned Allirian pages, I might one day have found out."