The Bride

It was the Third Day in the Fifth Moon of the Year of Prosperous Harmony. The winds of the east had chased away the last vestiges of winter and brought warmth and life back to the land. Flowers bloomed and their sweet fragrance rode the air. My home city, Red Dawn, was now awash in the soft pinks of cherry blossoms and the bright greens of new leaves.

I sat by a window and watched the white sails of the fishing boats float across the shimmering blue waters of the Lake of Hundred Coves. Abihayil, the Eternal Father, had blessed me with ample work these past few months, and I could have actually spent the afternoon on the balcony of my favorite inn leisurely sipping tea and watching the afternoon fade into nightfall. Unfortunately, my sponsor had given me a task to perform, and since my citizenship depended upon his continued goodwill, I was here to do his bidding.

There was a cup of flower tea and a small dish of pastries laid out on the table beside me. The tea had been served in a beautiful porcelain cup, and the pastries were made to look like birds. Although everyone in the house was busily preparing for the ceremony of the Bridal Sendoff that would happen later in the evening, the kitchen had still prepared afternoon tea for me. A humble bodyguard would never have garnered such special treatment, but since I was here on the orders of an imperial prince, the Tobih family was treating me as an honored guest.

I had already taken a sip of the flower tea, but found the aftertaste unpleasant. I did not eat the pastries because they seemed too artful to be eaten. What was the proper etiquette for eating one of these bird pastries anyhow? Since no utensils had been provided, I had guessed that I was simply supposed to pick them up and eat them. But where did I start? Was I expected to bite the head off first or was I supposed to try and cram the whole thing into my mouth?

“Lady Rafaela, are the tea and pastries not to your liking?” a shy voice interrupted my thoughts.

“It’s delicious, Lady Emet,” I replied, “I’ve merely eaten too much during lunch.”

Lady Emet was looking at me from the corner of her eyes. The youngest daughter of the Tobih family was the center of her household’s bustles. She had been selected to be the third wife of the eleventh imperial prince, and would bear the title of madam consort once the wedding ceremony was completed. A hairdresser was winding a strand her dark brown hair around a hair frame, and she had to stare straight ahead even though she was talking to me. From the very visible strain on the young lady’s neck, I could tell that she was not comfortable.

The Divine Council of Yeriah had declared that when Abihayil commanded his people to be fruitful, he meant that men should have many wives. And, as the leaders of the empire, the royals have taken this command to heart. As a result, the empire had developed a rather complex ranking system for the imperial wives and concubines. Madam consort was the title borne by the four minor wives of an imperial prince, who along with the princess consort, the great wife, were considered to be the mistresses of the prince’s household. The sons of these wives were elevated in position in comparison to the sons of the concubines, and were eligible to inherit a greater share of the prince’s fortunes. Or at least that was how it was supposed to work anyway. However the master of the household had final say in how things worked, and it was not uncommon for the wives and their sons to be displaced by a favored concubine and her children.

“My elder brother told me that His Imperial Highness, Prince Areliy, sent you here to watch over me because… because of what has been happening in my home?”

“His Highness commanded me to ensure my ladyship’s safety this evening.”

The Tobih household has had a very trying time of late. . The first victim was Lady Emet’s older sister. She had fallen prey to a mysterious illness that left her emasculated and bedridden. Then, almost one after another two handmaids, a seamstress and a kitchen maidservant were struck by the same maladie. Lady Emet did not know of these things because the rest of her family did not want to frighten her.

“I am told that Prince Areliy and my… my…Prince Iyethieyl are both sons of the Gracious Consort, one of the great beauties at court. I… I… How does Prince Areliy look like?”

In truth, the young lady wanted to know what her future husband, Prince Iyethieyl, looked like.

“Prince Areliy has hair the color of moonlight on snow and eyes as blue as the deepest, purest sapphires.” I replied.

Elder Hanael, my father in the faith, had told me that I should try to speak with greater care in order not to offend anyone’s sensibilities. He told me that by doing so, I would be exercising grace just as Abihayil exercised grace towards me. So, I gave an exact description of my liege lord’s appearance and kept other, irrelevant, information to myself, like how the prince happened to be quite terrifying. Whenever Prince Areliy looked at me, I felt that his gaze would surely flay my skin, pierce my flesh and see straight into my soul. Prince Iyethieyl, Prince Areliy’s younger brother and Lady Emet’s future husband, was by all accounts a very kind and gentle young prince.

Lady Emet blushed, “I have heard that the Gracious Consort’s sons are both very handsome. But even if he were not, I… I feel honored that I was chosen from amongst all the other candidates. It is the greatest gift Abihayil has ever bestowed upon me.”

I looked up at the young lady in surprise. What was so wonderful about becoming a third wife? Prince Iyethieyl already had two wives and several concubines so she would have to vie for her husband’s favor against all these other women. The young lady was not ‘unfortunate’ looking, but neither was she a great beauty.

She was wearing a long white dress in the style that was favored by the noblewomen. The dress bared her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, and was tightly fitted around the waist so as to emphasize a lady’s curved figure. It spilled down the legs like a waterfall, and had two tailed phoenixes embroidered in gold thread that denoted rank. However, because Lady Emet did not possess the hourglass figure favored by the men of the empire, the dress fell straight down her slim frame.

The make-up that had been applied seemed unsuited to her face. Lady Emet had the large eyes that were much prized on women. However, her skin tone was naturally of a darker tone, which meant that her serving maids had to use several layers of powder to obtain the pasty white color that the empire found beautiful. She would have looked much more stunning if she was allowed to keep her own natural complexion instead of being painted up like a jester. And, she did not have the full, pouty pink lips that the men here found so sensuous. The lady’s lips were well formed, but thin, and to compensate, her servants had used pink lip paint and basically drew in fuller lips for her. The overall effect wasn’t awful, but I thought that she had looked much better before her servants made up her face.

And, if her beauty was not enough to secure her prince’s favor, then the most she could hope for was a lonely life lived out in her suite of rooms. And if she did not produce children of her own, then she might be cast out of his estate if she outlived him. It was not an easy life.

“I never expected to be chosen. I have not had any proposals and I think my brothers… I think my brothers worried thought that they would have to tempt potential suitors with a great dowry.”

“My lady is too modest! She is so beautiful that she will become a madam consort,” Lady Emet’s hairdresser said, “We are all glad for my lady, but we will miss her when she leaves us. Izevel is truly blessed by Abihayil to be able to attend my lady in her new home!”

“Thank you Dodie. How is Izevel? Is she still unwell?”

That caught my attention, “Who is Izevel?”

“She is my handmaiden, and she will be coming with me to His Highness’ home. She has been feeling ill since last night, so I gave her leave to rest.”

“Do I have your permission to attend her, Lady Emet?” I asked, “Abihayil has blessed me with some small skill in the healing arts, and I might be able to help.”

“I would be grateful if you could! I’ll ask someone to…”

Before the lady could finish her sentence, a maidservant came into the room. She curtsied quickly to Lady Emet, and then to me, “Lady Mage, the masters Chanoch and Gerah have requested a word with you in their study. Would you please follow me?”

I turned to Lady Emet, who said, “Please go to them first then, Lady Rafaela. Yemima will you attend Lady Rafaela and then take her to Izevel’s room when they have finished speaking?”

“Yes, my lady.”

I stood up and offered a bow to her ladyship, which made the servants and Lady Emet titter. Bowing while standing was something only men did. Women knelt, curtsied, or nodded their heads depending on the rank and status of the person they were greeting. It would be rude for me to nod my head at someone who would soon be a madam consort, and I haven’t been in the empire long enough to master the art of curtseying.

“My brother told me that you came from outside the empire, is that true?” Lady Emet asked me.

I smiled, “Yes, but I was truly born inside the empire. With your permission, Lady Emet, I will come back.”

Before I left, I murmured a quick prayer to Abihayil, “May what I do bring glory to you, Father.” I didn’t have to pray to the Eternal Father before I worked my Art, but since he was the one who gave me these powers, it seemed only right to thank him before I used them. Then, I passed my hand over the lady and her maidservants quickly wove a shield of protection around them. The shield would hold long enough for me to rush back should there be danger, and it would also alert me if anyone with hostile intentions entered the room.

The maidservant Yemima took me down a long hallway that passed through the great hall where guests were received. Most of the furniture had been pushed aside to make room for a small mountain of trunks, barrels, jars, and rolls of silk, Lady Emet’s dowry no doubt.

Servants rushed to and fro trying from the hall carrying more items for the dowry. But from amidst this bustle, I could sense that fear blanketed this house. The servants all knew of the deaths, and they were frightened. Yemima knew of the deaths also. She was so frightened that her fear almost seemed thick enough to choke on.

“Have you seen the women who have fallen ill,” I asked.

The maidservant stiffened, and then in a hushed voice, she said, “I’ve seen them. My lady mage, they’ve become like empty husks! They’ve grown thinner and thinner like they’ve caught the wasting disease. But they are wasting away much faster than anything I’ve seen before.”

Mages who perverted their Art sometimes needed to steal the life force of other people in order to live. Sometimes, the victims were killed outright. Other times, the victims were slowly drained of their life force over a period of time. I wondered if this mysterious illness was the work of a dark mage.

When we arrived at the study, I could hear voices arguing loudly inside.

“He sent a darkspawn! That woman is a darkspawn I tell you!”

“Gerah, calm down! Prince Areliy would not send someone of questionable character.”

Ah, they were talking about me.

Yemina gave me an apologetic, uncomfortable look before loudly announcing, “Master Chanoch, Master Gerah, the Lady Mage is here.”

There was a pause before the second speaker said, “Please come in, Lady Rafaela.”

Yemina opened the ornate study doors for me, curtsied quickly to the men inside, and gestured for me to enter. I walked in, and she quickly closed the door behind me. The study was spacious and brightly lit, and other than me, it currently held two other occupants. The man sitting behind the desk was the older of the two, and presumably, Master Chanoch Tobih. The younger man was standing next to the desk, his face still red from their previous argument, and scowling darkly at me. He was probably Sir Gerah, the one that was a knight of the Order of Yeriah.

Before I could offer a proper greeting, Sir Gerah demanded, “Are you a darkspawn?”

The expression on his face said that he was waiting for me to say yes so he could brandish his sword and skewer me. Elder Hanael’s advice of choosing my words carefully seemed like it would apply in this case. But then, the elder had also told me that I should speak truthfully. In this case, speaking truthfully precludes speaking carefully so as not to offend someone else’s sensibilities.

“I was, by grace of Abihayil, saved by the High King whom we both follow,” I replied, “But if my lord knight is asking whether I hailed from the Empire of Chocekh, then yes, I came from there.”

Sir Gerah had his drawn instantly and charged towards me, “For the glory of the Father!”

Now here was something I never understood. Before I was saved by the High King and learned of the grace of Abihayil, I fought with Knights of Yeriah before. Many of these knights were gifted with the ability to work the Arts, like Sir Gerah himself was. Yet, their favorite attack seemed to be to draw their swords and charge. Unless they were expecting the mage to panic, and the first lesson a battle mage was taught was how not to panic, I didn’t understand what they hoped to gain from the charge.

I held up my hand and created a barrier between us at the last moment, and Sir Gerah slammed into the shield full force. The force of his body slamming against the barrier was enough to knock him back a few steps. And before he could recover and charge at me again, I walked up to him and pressed my fingers into the back of his neck. And sent a jolt of power through his system, not enough to harm him, but enough to make him drop his sword and to make his hands twitch such that he wouldn’t be able to pick up a sword again.

“My apologies Sir Gerah, Master Chanoch, but I did not come here to cause your problems. Prince Areliy sent me to look into the problems you have been having in your home.” I reached into one of the small pouches that hung from my belt and took out a gold blade engraved with Prince Areliy’s name on one side and a gryphon, Prince Areliy’s emblem, on the other side, “This is the proof that I am acting on the orders of the eighth imperial prince.”

“My apologies for my brother’s rash behavior,” Master Chanoch replied frowning at his younger brother.

Sir Gerah was glaring at me, but luckily the sight of the golden blade stopped him from taking further action. If he charged me again after seeing the blade, it was considered treason to an imperial prince.

“It’s alright, Master Chanoch. I imagine it was quite an unpleasant shock,” I responded. The Empire of Chosekh did not follow Abihayil. The mages of the Chosekh especially leaned towards the Darkness in their practice of the Mage Arts. About two years ago, I escaped from Chosekh because I disobeyed the orders of the Chosekh Empress. Elder Hanael found me, and through him, I found Abihayil.

“But, I think my past will actually be of some use to you today,” I continued, “May I see the ladies who have fallen ill.”

Master Chanoch blanched, “They are in a guest house. The healers thought it might be the wasting disease and we didn’t want anyone else to fall ill. Are you sure you want to go in?”

Should I mention that I was immune to disease? I glanced at Sir Gerah and decided against it. Immunity against diseases was something only high ranking nobles of the Chosekh Empire were given. If Sir Gerah knew that particular fact, he’d probably risk treason and charge at me with his sword again.

“Though I cannot be certain, I am pretty sure the ladies do not have the wasting disease. It seems like someone is stealing their life force.”

“And that’s something you would be intimately familiar with, darkspawn,” Sir Gerah spat.

“Actually, I’ve never done that before, but I do not the basic ideas behind it yes,” I replied cheerily.

“Gerah, if you have nothing useful to say to our guest, then please go make yourself useful and stay with Emet!” Master Chanoch scowled at his younger brother.

Sir Gerah stormed off, and after a shake of his head, Master Chanoch led me out of the study, “He has been very much affected by what was happening in the house. He returned from the capital for the celebrations but… this is what greeted him. As my Lady Rafaela has probably heard, Emet’s older sister Deliyah has fallen gravely ill. Gerah and Deliyah were very close. In fact, Deliyah was originally the one who would have become Prince Iyethiey’s bride.”

That surprised me, “I thought Lady Emet is the bride.”

“She is now. His Imperial Majesty the Emperor approved a daughter from House Tobih to be the wife, but he never said which one. We were going to present Deliyah, but she fell ill almost immediately. The healers have not been able to do anything for her. She would get better, and then she would get worse again.”

“If it is alright with my lord, I would like to see Lady Deliyah as well. Also, Lady Emet has informed me that her handmaiden, Izevel has fallen ill.”

“I have not heard of this!” Master Chanoch stopped in his tracks, “I have ordered the household to inform me if anyone falls ill!”

“Then if my lord permits, perhaps I can see her first.”

“Certainly, her room is right next to Emet’s suite.”

We walked back down the long hallway, but instead of heading into the double doors that led to Lady Emet’s Suite, we turn left down a smaller hallway that ended with a small door, which was presumably Izevel’s room. Along the way, Master Chanoch had asked two male servants and Yemima to attend us. The latter had a key to Izevel’s room.

Yemima was told to unlock Izevel’s room, but I waved her away. When mages have perverted their gift to work the Arts, they leave a taint that other mages could sense. And, I was sensing that taint from the other side of the door. She had very recently worked her perverted Art in the room, and the putrid stench of decaying flesh assailed my senses.

“She’s in Lady Emet’s room,” I said, turning around, “Master Chanoch, can you please ask Lady Emet and her attendants to come out?”

“What is going on?”

“Izevel is a dark mage.”

“What?!” Master Chanoch looked shocked, “This… How…?”

I didn’t wait for him to say anything else. Instead, I ran down the hallway and let myself into Lady Emet’s suite. Sir Gerah was standing by the door, and he looked very surprised when I walked in unannounced.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

I ignored him and addressed the lady herself, “Lady Emet, I have with me a gift from Prince Areliy. May I present it to you now?”

The hairdresser was putting gold pins into Lady Emet’s hair, and another woman, whom I have not seen before was assisting. I presumed that she was Izevel. She hadn’t triggered the barrier I’ve put around Lady Emet and her attendants – most likely because at this moment, she did not bear any ill will towards the lady. However, she was eyeing me wearily, and I could sense that she was gathering her power about her.

“A gift?” Lady Emet gently waved off Izevel and her hairdresser and stood up gingerly, trying to keep from knocking the hair pins and jewels off her hair.

“A blessing,” I told her with a smile as I walked towards her. When she was arm’s length away, I grabbed her arm with one hand pushed her behind me, while, with the other hand, I pushed the hairdresser back away from Izevel.

Lady Emet let out a surprised scream, and I could hear Sir Gerah bellow in outrage. However, my attention was focused on the handmaiden, Izevel. She pointed a finger towards me and unleashed the power that she had been gathering the moment I entered the room. But I had sensed her gathering the power, so I was prepared. A barrier sprung up between us at the last minute just as a ray of crimson light shot from her fingers. Her power swept over me like a warm wind and it reeked of decaying flesh just as her room had. She had been a healer once, I realized.

“Get everyone else out of here, Sir Gerah,” I said as another crimson beam struck the barrier I had raised between us.

“Izevel!” I heard Lady Emet crying out.

I was half afraid that the stubborn knight was not going to do what I had asked, but the obvious threat to his sister’s health had apparently overridden his revulsion of me. From the corners of her eyes, I could see him pick up his flailing sister and carry her towards the door. The hairdresser had also gotten herself safely out of harm’s way.

“Stop this,” I told the woman, “Nothing good can come from what you are doing. You were a healer. You should know better than me what twisting the Art will do to you.”

She should have been able to sense the taint in her own power. If she continued to abuse her power, her body was going to start to deform. It would either start to whither or it would become something monstrous.

Izevel did not answer. Instead she out both of her hands and blasted me with pure power. The force of the blast sent glittering splinters across the barrier I had created, I bit back a yelp of pain when some of that power broke through the barrier and struck me. She wasn’t just using her own power now. She was fueling her attacks with the life force she had stolen from those women.

With that much power at her disposal, my initial plan of letting her tire herself out wasn’t going to work. I was going to have to go on the offensive and stop her. I didn’t enjoy using my power for attack. Although Elder Hanael had told me that my powers were also a gift from Abihayil, I didn’t like using them for battle. Each time I did, I had to fight the temptation to lose myself to the power and revel in the feel of it.

Izevel had stopped her bombardments. She had moved to the furthest corner of a room and she was now holding a sinister black orb in her hand. That orb was holding the life force of all the stricken women in the house. And it was now glowing ominously. The room was getting darker and darker, and the stench of fleshly decay was growing stronger and stronger. A cold chill crept down my spine as I realized that the orb Izevel held was a vampire crystal.

That abominable crystal was a creation of the dark mages of Chosekh, and it existed for the sole purpose of sucking out the life force of another living creature. How did Izevel get her hands on something like this?

“Put it down and move away from it,” I told her as I slowly moved forward, “If you keep using it, it will suck out your life force too.”

“Stay back!” she snapped at me, holding the crystal orb in front of her, “Stay away from me, you darkspawn!”

She was the one with the vampire crystal and I was the darkspawn?

“Do you know what it costs you physically to wield a vampire crystal?” I asked her quietly as I began to gather my power for an attack, “Because you are always in touch with that crystal, it will start to eat away at your life force as well. At first, you will only feel tired and perhaps a little unwell. But, as you continue to use that crystal, it will steal more of your life force away.”

“Be quiet!” Izevel yelled, but I could tell she was frightened. And of course she was, she was already suffering the initial symptoms.

“Eventually, you will end up like those women you’ve stolen the life force from, a dried, empty husk. But unlike them, you won’t be able to recover. You will become a succubus, only able to survive by stealing the life force of other creature. You will become a true fiend, mindlessly roaming the night looking for new victims until someone puts you out of your misery.

“No… No you are lying!” Izevel screamed at me, her eyes wide with fright.

But I had managed to perturb her enough that she wasn’t really paying attention to me, and taking the opportunity that Abihyail had granted me, I attacked. I wove my power into icy manacles that made them clamp around Izevel’s wrists. The handmaiden’s eyes widened as the icing numbness spread rushed through her body and immobilized her. Until I eased up on her, she wouldn’t be able to move anything below her neck or use her powers.

The orb dropped from her immobile fingers and I quickly levitated it over onto a table. If a vampire crystal broke, it would cause a very big and very messy explosion, which would not be pleasant. Besides, if I might be able to return the stolen life force back to the stricken women and help them recover quickly.

“Izevel, why?” Lady Emet had pushed her brother away and came back into the room.

“It wasn’t fair, my lady! They were going to let my lady’s sister be His Highness’ bride! And my lady would be wed you to an old marquis! He was sixty-five, and my lady is barely sixteen! What life could you hope to have with one such as that?” Izevel cried, “My lady deserves this happiness. I would use this power to make my lady more beautiful than her sister, and she would surely be loved by his prince.”

Lady Emet stopped dead in her tracks, “What? No Izevel, you are wrong. My brothers told me… I was the one who was chosen.”

“I overheard them. The Gracious Consort, your prince’s honored mother, had selected a daughter of House Tobih to be the madam consort. She didn’t specify which one.”

“I… Is this true, Brother Chanoch, Brother Gerah?”

The young lady’s eyes were shinning with tears and I could not help but feel bad for her. She’s told me that she thought being selected as the prince’s third wife was the greatest blessing Abihayil had ever bestowed upon her.

“Marquis Eder is an honorable and generous man,” Sir Gerah replied, “You would have been happy with her.”

I had an urge to freeze Sir Gerah’s tongue in his mouth for three days so that his household is relieved of hearing him spout nonsense for that amount of time.

“Yes, brother,” Lady Emet dropped her head, “Since Lady Rafaela will be able to revive my sister, will you ask His Highness for a reprieve and send her in my stead?”

“We can talk about that, Emet,” Master Chanoch replied.

Lady Emet gave a little laugh, then reached up and started pulling out the pins in her hair one by one and dropping them onto the ground, “My lady sister would need these then.”

“My lady, I have failed you and your lady mother,” Izevel was crying, “On her death bed your lady mother made me promise that I would care for you as my own sister.”

“Oh, Izevel,” Lady Emet sighed.

She suddenly turned to the table where I had dropped the vampire crystal, picked up the abominable orb and threw it onto the ground. I had started to gather my powers when I noticed how close she was to the orb, but for someone so dainty and ladylike, she certainly moved down, and I was not able to do anything in time to stop her.

I threw my power around the orb even as it began to explode, putting up shield after shield around it. But I knew that I was not going to be able to stop the explosion. So as the light from the crystal began to expand, I created a barrier around each person in the room. The strain of holding so many barriers made my arms shake and made my body grow cold. When I finally completed the barrier around myself, I released the shields around the orb.

A wave of searing heat washed over me and the ensuing explosion sent me flying backwards. I struck a book case quite painfully and lay on the ground for quite some time as stars danced in front of my eyes. And then, pain exploded across my back and the back of my head, making me groan like an old woman. Everything hurt!

From the groans and moans around the room, I could tell that everybody else was in the same shape as me -alive and in one piece, but not feeling particularly wonderful. I immediately looked for Lady Emet because she was the closest to the explosion. She was propped up against the far wall, her white dress in tatters and her arm in an awkward angle. She’d probably broken that arm, but she was alive.

The handmaiden Izevel was lying on her stomach and not moving. I climbed to my feet painfully and staggered over to where she was lying on the ground, another shield, albeit a very weak one wrapped around my self. She was alive but unconscious. Whether or not it was because she had been the one to use that orb, the blast had hit her extra hard. I had protected her physically, but I had not protected her powers. She would not be able to work the Art again.

“Is she… is she dead?” Lady Emet was sobbing openly now, “Did I kill her? I didn’t mean to, I was just… I was just…!”

She was staring at me in wide-eyed shock. I looked down and saw that my modest dress and tunic had now become rather immodest scraps that barely covered my body. It bared the black serpent tattoo that slithered down from just above my right breast all the way to my thigh, and several rather impressive looking scars. The serpent was the emblem of the house I was born into in the Chocekh Empire. Lady Emet had not been able to recognize my origins from my appearance, but she has apparently heard of my people’s habit of tattooing ourselves.

“You were just trying to kill yourself,” I finished for her, “I see my lady recognizes the tattoo. The day I ran away, I was to become a concubine by a Chocekh lord. I disobeyed a command to do so and ran. My would-be lord husband’s family sent quite an impressive number of assassins after me, and most of these scars came from that escape. I would have died if the elder of a small village hadn’t saved me. It is by the grace of Abihayil alone that I live today. My lady told me that being chosen as the bride of an imperial prince was the greatest gift the Father has ever bestowed upon you, but my lady, that isn’t true. The greatest gifts the Father has bestowed upon are the gift of life and the gift of grace.”

I pointed at Izevel, “She very nearly died. Everyone in this room very nearly died including my lady herself. Is the title of madam consort worth all the lives in this room?”

Lady Emet began to cry in earnest. I straightened and winced when the muscles in my back screamed in protest. The explosion had pretty much destroyed Lady Emet’s room, and I was quite certain that the Tobih’s neighbors would come a-running to see what was going to happen. Shortly thereafter, Red Dawn’s city guards would come a-running too. And if they got here before I made myself scarce, they’d take one look at my lovely tattoo and throw me into the dungeons.

I looked around for the pouch to see if Prince Areliy’s golden blade and survived the blast. It did, but it was quite askew. Why couldn’t he have chosen a harder metal to make these “command” blades anyhow? I tried to bend the blade back into shape, but stopped after a few moments when I noticed that I seemed to be making things worse. His Nightmarish Highness was not going to be pleased. I wondered if any goldsmith in the city would agree to try and fix this. I did know a weapon smith that looked the other way if enough gold was stuffed into his hand.

Perhaps Prince Areliy would not be that displeased. I mean, yes, his beloved younger brother was going to delay or perhaps complete cancel the wedding, and yes there was a rather large hole in this would-be royal family-in-law’s home, and yes, his golden blade was bent slightly out of shape…

Maybe I should visit Elder Hanael. I could ask the Elder to extend the same grace Abihayil has extended me by speaking to the prince on my behalf. I would remind the Elder that Abihayil’s grace was boundless.