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The Necromancer's Bookcase: Chapter 1
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The Necromancer's Bookcase: Chapter 1 |
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Kosetsu Member
since 2001-03-10
Posts 450Alabama, USA |
Emerald eyes widened like a child watching candy being dished out by the pounds. Small digits closed around a brass doorknob, and attempted to give it a twist. The latch held firm, the inner workings of the lock tinking slightly. Candles flickered along a stretch of hallway, a vacant corridor devoid of any form of organic life, save for the child. She gave a soft huff of disappointment, and turned away from the door. That portal hadn’t been opened in any time she could remember. Not that she’d been around long. Only a half decade or so old, she was the epitome of curiosity. Red curls hung lightly about her face, complimenting the deep green of her large irises. They shifted slightly as the girl’s head turned to watch one of the candles, hanging in its holder on the stone wall. Her small green skirts shifted slightly as she walked away from the door, her bare feet making little sound on the cold marble floor. It was early morning, the sun just beginning to peek up above the low horizon of the Toren Mountain Range. A few servants scurried about, busying themselves with common household chores. The girl shivered a bit; Toreni mornings were always chilly. She picked up her pace a bit as she turned a corner, the sweet aroma of frying sausage wafting through the massive doors to the dining area, and the adjoined kitchen. “Slow yourself a bit, O’ Short One,” said a soft jesting voice behind her. She almost stumbled as she turned, but caught her footing without falling. The speaker was Owen, her father’s head advisor, as well as head jester; at least, in the girl’s eyes. She paused for him to catch up, a smile crossing her impish visage. “Good morning, Master Owen,” she said with a small curtsy. Even at such a young age, Dahlia, the Mistress of Servants, had managed to hammer some manners into the child. At her curtsy, he dropped into a low elegant bow, his ponytail of golden blond hair almost touching the stone walkway’s floor. “And good morn to you as well, Miss Lydia,” he replied, sweeping her up into his arms and onto his broad shoulders as he rose. She giggled as he did so, then folded her arms on the top of his head, and laid her chin on them. “Master Owen, what’s behind the door at the end of the Servant’s Hall?” she asked after a moment as he strode towards the gateway to the bountiful mounds of food sure to be already laid out on the tables of the dining hall. “Who knows, little one? I’m sure Dahlia would tell you, after giving you another one of her lectures,” he quipped with a grin, lowering her from his shoulders as they entered the dining hall. The smells coming from the kitchen were wonderful; Toreni cooks were often seen as the best in all of the Four Lands. The girl shuddered slightly. “I’d rather not know, in that case.” Dahlia could make anyone short of Lydia’s father jump when she roared a command. Owen gave a hearty laugh as the two walked towards the Lord’s Table, though it was cut short by the entrance of another. “Speak of a Shade, and one will appear,” he muttered beneath a grin. Dahlia had entered the dining hall. A winecask on legs, as Owen had once described her. A white apron hung from her shoulders, stretched taunt over her girth, brown hair pulled up into a large bun. She was in her late forties perhaps, soft streaks of gray beginning to mark her hair. She strode quickly towards Owen and Lydia. As she passed, the servants seemed to speed up a step, slowing to their previous pace only after the woman had passed. “Owen Dravenspire! Did you tell Casia to meet you in the broom closet? If I find you interfering with my workers again, I’ll have your hide tanned so hard, you won’t sit for a month, then I’ll have you working the manure piles for thrice as long!” she roared, her leg-thick arms folding over her chest. Sweat beaded on her forehead; never a good thing to make Dahlia angry. The man seemed to shrink beside the woman. “Ah…Mistress Luhhan…meet...Casia, was it? I, uh…don’t seem to recall this…Casia. Would you mind refreshing my memory? There are so many beautiful Toreni women around here, that I—yourself not excluded, dear Dahlia—,I can’t seem to keep track of them all,” he replied, trying to keep a grin. Lydia glanced up at the two, and gave a short giggle. A sharp look from Dahlia sent her running along to the Lord’s Table. She smiled as emerald irises resting upon the figure at the head of the table; her father, Lord Anthony DeMarco of Toren. The girl ran up to her father, and scrambled into his lap, planting a soft kiss on his fuzzy beard. A smile crossed Anthony’s lips at the kiss as he placed his arms around his youngest child. “Ah…little Lydia. Did you sleep well, tai’lin?” Tai’lin…little angel, in the Old Tongue. She nodded. “How did you sleep, daddy?” she replied, then cast a child’s glance along the length of the table, to the assortment of minor lords and ladies gathered at the table. She gave them a quick smile, which some of the older ladies returned. “I slept well,” he replied, standing up to set her in the chair just to his right side. “I see Owen is being berated by Dahlia again…what did he do this time?” he asked with a chuckle. His head advisor seemed to have halved in height since the Mistress of Servants’ scolding began. The crimson haired child shrugged, leaning forward on her elbows to watch Owen shrink further and further. A grin crossed her lips, and she gave another short giggle. “He’s still trying to deny whatever he did,” she said after a moment. Her father nodded, then waved Owen over. “Mistress Luhhan, I believe Owen’s had enough for one day. I’d like him to at least be in the state to give me good advice later!” he called across the dining hall to the two. Owen seemed to utter a sigh of relief, almost tripping over himself in his haste to get to the Table, and away from the woman. “By the Shades…remind me not to anger that woman again,” he muttered under his breath as he swept into a bow towards his lord. “A good morn to you, my Lord Anthony. I am in your debt for saving me from the very clutches of pain itself,” he said, touching a hand to his heart as he rose; a salute of sorts. Anthony shook his head with a chuckle. “Sit, my friend. Breakfast will begin shortly, then I have something I wish to discuss with all of you.” And that it did. "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die." - Shakespeare |
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| © Copyright 2001 Adam Kamerer - All Rights Reserved | |||
Linc
since 2001-03-07
Posts 552The Backstreet Boy |
Hey, I love your work like this I am still hooked on “Paladin” you have to keep these coming they are absolutely masterful. Just my 7 cents, P.S. if you like muds, mushs, ect. then check out my fav, at the address below. -- Linc "Blood Moon" |
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Kosetsu Member
since 2001-03-10
Posts 450Alabama, USA |
Paladin..heh..I don't even remember how that one goes, been so long since I wrote it. Anyway, I never could get into MUDs and MUSHs. Diablo II is more my style. If any of you play that, whisper me some time. My account name is Kosetsu (duh..) -Kosetsu, still munchin his berry pie. "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die." - Shakespeare |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Well, you've piqued my interest, so on to two... |
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