The estate of Grand Duke Folquet was breathtaking. As the sun started to rise they'd crested a chain of hills and Reverie could see the castle grounds sprawling in the distance. Even from afar she could see that it was surrounded by a high stone wall, behind which three towers loomed. It was sturdy, a fortress standing before the Lu'reau mountains. As they rode closer she could see that though the focus had been on durability, beauty hadn't been neglected in its design.
"Dawn Castle." Reverie whispered to herself, recalling the name of L'Aube's castle. In truth the Folquet castle was another one entirely, she knew. But currently the Grand Duke and his son were living in the castle passed from L'Aube to L'Aube. The road had been well maintained, and it wasn't long before she was swiveling her head to see the walls and gates as she passed through them.
"Hail to L'Aube, protector of Shavais, seat of the Gods' Kingdom. "One of the sentinels cried, Reverie assumed it was the traditional way to mark L'Aube's return to the castle. She expected the servants to have come and lined up, to greet their master. This was not the case.
"Hail, Alvise. How fare the boys?" Jovan called to the lone figure standing at the entrance to greet them. He was a tall, slim, man with a head of thick grey hair and a well groomed appearance. The butler, Reverie presumed. He bowed gracefully, his face a stoic, professional, mask.
"Greetings Your Grace. The young Masters are unchanged, since your departure. The wizard has been seeing to them." Alvise answered, watching Reverie curiously but not commenting on her presence. The Grand Duke helped her down again, and Reverie was amused to notice that only Alvise seemed utterly unconcerned with the state of her skirt. As she'd ridden by, several of the guard had struggled between looking away or staring harder. Alvise simply gave a polite nod of his head as he awaited his master's instructions.
"That's fantastic news, I suppose. Better than them growing worse anyways. Come, Lady Reverie. It's been a long, strange, trip but I must ask you to see to them right away." The Grand Duke truly did look ashamed to be asking her to get right to work, but she didn't mind. She was exhausted and, despite herself, heartsick. Rather than lying down and facing her thoughts, she'd rather get on with things. The Grand Duke had use for her, if she did well she had to trust that he would be grateful.
"Take me to them." She said, looking between Alvise and Jovan. She expected the butler to scowl or at least react to her rude behavior, but his mask was unchanged. At Jovan's nod, Alvise turned and lead the way.
"Will there be anything you need, my Lady?" Alvise asked as they walked. Reverie quirked an eyebrow at the casual luxury that she met when they walked inside. Everything was minimalist in style, and the colors subdued, but the quality couldn't be missed. Everything from the rugs, to the curtain drawstrings, to the light fixtures, was well crafted and good to look at. She was so taken aback that it took Alvise's gentle cough to bring her back to the conversation.
"No, not that I can think of for now." She replied vaguely, not wanting to outright admit that she was here on a hunch. She had no idea what to expect, and for all she or the Grand Duke knew, she would be wholly useless. She clenched her teeth, and forced herself to stand a little straighter. She wouldn't allow that to happen, she'd never be useless.
"Please be sure no one disturbs the Lady's work, Alvise. But do bring a light meal for us, if the Lady finds the time I'm sure she could use it." Jovan said, and Alvise nodded again.
"Of course, Your Grace. I will see to it immediately." He said, and for the first time made eye contact with Reverie. Her heart stuttered at the desperation she saw on his face. Clearly the young masters were well loved. She didn't linger on the twinge of jealousy she felt, seeing that expression. She ignored, too, the curiosity it stirred. Would anyone make that expression for her well being? It didn't matter. She would use her magic to save her brother and the little Duke, and that would be the end of it. If Marcel was surrounded by people who loved him so deeply, well that was good for him, and none of her business.
"This way." Jovan said, his voice more tense than she'd heard it before. He gestured towards a door to his left. It was just like every other door she'd seen in this castle. Well built, beautiful, unremarkable next to all the other doors that were also those things. He opened the door for her and waited for her to step inside. She took a deep breath, to release her magic and calm her sudden anxiety, and strode passed him.
The room was dark, the curtains still drawn against the early morning light. There was one large bed, and she could make out a figure standing next to it. He was a wizard, she realized as she came closer. His eyes were closed and his hands were clasped in front of him. He was deep into a spell casting, and didn't notice them approach until Reverie stood next to him and looked down at the two figures on the bed. It was obvious which was her brother Marcel, and which was Owain the Grand Duke's son. Marcel lay farthest from her, his features were refined and his jawline was almost pretty. He had a mop of beautiful red curls, that were plastered to him with sweat. She looked away from him quickly, she didn't want to think about the ache his face put into her heart.
Owain was big, like his father. He must have been at least a few years older than she and Marcel, but even so he was practically a giant. His long dark hair was soaked in sweat as well, and his handsome face was twisted in pain. She looked away from him, too, and met eyes with the wizard. He was an old man, and he looked incredibly kind, behind his obvious fatigue and worry.
"Gods around me," he breathed as he studied her. She shifted on her feet uncomfortably, and reconsidered the idea that he was a kind old man.
"I'll explain later, Faren. For now you may rest, and we shall let Lady Reverie try her hand." Jovan said quietly, and walked around the bed to stroke the foreheads of Owain and Marcel both. Reverie grimaced, there was nowhere safe to look it seemed.
"Truly? Ah! Of course, then I will be out of your way my Lady. Please, I beg you, do what you can, and don't hesitate to tell me if I may be of service. I'll not question you out of pride, I swear it." Faren said gravely. She wondered what he meant but gave him a half-hearted smile nonetheless. His vague declaration was better than him staring at her in awe.
"Alright, I'll start now." Reverie announced, no one answered. She closed her eyes and stretched her magic out, like she was opening her arms for a hug. She was met with more magic than she'd ever encountered before in her life, and opened her eyes with a gasp. Neither man said or asked anything, they had both moved a few feet away and were watching intently. The sheer volume of magic in the room had been overwhelming, and she'd recoiled. Determined, she closed her eyes and tried again. This time she opened herself more slowly, and took more time to explore the shape and flow of the magic around her.
When Reverie awakens to her magic, she is hurtled towards a journey fate is determined for her to take. As she leaves behind her life as an orphan in a brothel, to learn painful truths about her family, Reverie can only trust in what she's been taught all her life; "If you want to survive, you must be useful and make use of others." Reverie soon finds herself allied with a group she wouldn't have chosen for herself. Can she survive the gauntlet of trials before her, and learn to take the hands being offered to her? Or will her own doubts be enough to hold her back, and pave way for a calamity several hundred years in the making?
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