Several days had passed and Ryunise was slowly getting her bearings. At first it was difficult, the nausea, the coughing fits, and the overall pain from her joints and limbs. It was as if this body was never alive but dead for at least a year. The creaking felt calcified, slow, and crumbling. Maids came in to help carry her after the first day of waking and thoroughly washed her. Funny, why were they bringing in bucket-fulls of it? The temperature wasn’t constant and it caused her to squirm unevenly. Where was the shower, faucet, knobs for hot or cold?

Hair especially took a long time. Why? What are they even putting in my hair? She thought.

It almost feels as gross as it smells. The maids would say nothing except smile and coo, hands delicate and yet strong, supporting and pampering her in a manner that was like welcoming an old friend. Vaguely she could see her self-reflection. Very, very long tumbling hair like spiders webbing rubies that looked fragile but stronger than silk down to her knees. Eyes an unrecognizably lushful green for the right orb, and the left a startling darker shade as if kissed by the sunlight shadows. Her skin was thoroughly scrubbed so it was shining, almost pristine, but it would be another full two weeks before color took up residence in the pigmentation.

“More mandoral tea, My Lady?” A maid spoke to her. Mandoral, some kind of mellow tea similar to mandarin oranges perhaps?

“Oh, Miss Partha. Yes, thank you,” Ryunise nodded once.

Let’s see if I understand, she mulled to herself. She settled back in her chair and lifted her eyes to peered at the rustling branches stretched out lazily above her to tickle the breeze. Pieces of memories came back, but were all fractured and fleeting. But she was able to at least remember history.

This was the Emerodelle House, and this body was the second daughter to Lord Marcaeus and Lady Anjin. Their line of family is a special upper crust above commoners, honorarily made nobles forged in the crucible of the Great Sapphire Wars only two hundred-some years ago. Rakoul and neighboring kingdoms Frawl and Bord were at war with each other when the nation of Moruge beyond Mount Dravvus used an opportune moment to hit all three at the peak of their exhaustions. Even with a temporary truce, all had suffered too much casualties, dangerously low on supplies, disease, winters, and most of the commanding leaders were either killed or overwhelmed.

In the darkening days, a middle-aged Sir Shondra Fallea rose, armed with a broken green shield to match his eyes, and single-handedly strategized a small group of young soldiers and a mixed-bag of mantles. They successfully broke through the iron-clad trap closing like wolves upon the wounded kingdoms, and held on long enough for the Frost Kingdom of Kaline to send aid that would send Moruge flying back. He would relinquish the name “Fallea” in exchange for “Emerodelle” in the aftermath and continue to command in the harshest skirmishes.

At the end of the Great Sapphire Wars, the three kingdoms cemented their temporary truce into a permanent bond. At least in theory. There are significant tensions between them, but surprisingly not enough to start an all-out war. From what it looks like, the past hundred years all three seemed to have gained equal footing with almost an equal number of things to lose. Fraught with typical schemes and shadowy whispers, no one can truly make a large enough move to launch an assault.

But the Kingdom of Rakoul has double the upper-hand. They were joined by blood and marriage three years after the closing of the Great Sapphire Wars by the Kingdom of Kaline. They had offered up their second princess to marry the crown prince Hesven Regina Rakoul. The religion of this land called Harmelod, is widely practiced and continent-spread by the Sacred Oraclast Church. They settled their main church in Regina in the midst of the Great Sapphire Wars out of the desperation and despair plaguing the people. The Sacred Oraclast Church has immense power that could sway an entire nation. Building their Church in Rakoul keeps the other kingdoms from brandishing their claws freely.

This place where Ryunise woke was the city of Fallea; the original owner’s birth home. Fallea was named after the head of the bloodline in honor of Sir Shondra Emerodelle. It was a second neighboring residence to Regima, and Regima is the capital in this Kingdom of Rakoul. Rakoul was a very large and prosperous territory governed by an imperial system with surprisingly two kings instead of one: King Levonis Regima Rakoul and King Leorvis Regima Rakoul. Apparently, it’s not uncommon in this world to have two kings if twins are born. It is also the mark of the royal lineage, given the founder also had a twin brother.

“My Lady?” A voice called to her from behind.

“Oh, Doctor…” Ryunise trailed a bit, trying to remember, then spoke, “Doctor Ramoul.”

“Yes. How are you feeling?” He came around, but could see she was still crinkled about the eyes when she looked up at him, or at least tried to, “Pardon. May I touch your hands, then around your eyes?”

“Yes.”

Doctor Ramoul sat in a seat Partha set down for him and he took her hands. There was a coolness easing around her fingers like river parted by rocks, then flowing over. A very faint glow of light azure appeared first, and then a darker azure saturated like a shadow. Ramoul pauses in thought, but his hands continued to feel about her joints, her pressure points, and took her pulse.

“Something wrong, Doctor?” She asked, “That’s a deep navy today, instead of the color of the sky. Like an ocean.”

That made Ramoul glance up a bit, just a brief flicker. How did she know? Was it just guess? This method of checking her over would seek deeper into one’s body. Normally no one wouldn’t be able to see such a glow unless they are lionized by the Sacred Oraclast Church. Perhaps it is due to her being the Emerodelle line, but that doesn’t explain change in color to his powers. He smiled then.

“No, no. Nothing is wrong. How are your eyes?”

“I’m still having a hard time seeing…have I worn glasses before?” She asked.

“Glasses?”

“Something to help me see, or read.”

“Ah, you mean spectacles. No, in fact you have been very healthy all your ten years alive.”

Oh right, she thought to herself. This body is small, that’s why everything is big. She’s only ten years old. The real Ryunise of this body had apparently fallen one day into the river from a high building and had been in a coma for a full month. No one had seen what happened, nor did she tell anyone that she was out playing, if she was. Faella was in an uproar. Even now they’re still looking for who dares to hurt Ryunise Emerodelle.

“The Emerodelle line has also resisted many plagues and sicknesses,” He continued and touched up her arms. He was scanning her body.

“But I can still barely see…” She spoke quietly.

After she woke up, the Lady has awfully matured, Ramoul mused. It was like she had leapt over her the joys, pain, and time of adolescence like it was the most natural thing to do. It was curious, but not too much cause for alarm. He put down her hands gently when he was done.

“I’m going to touch your face now and around your eyes. Blink when I tell you to, yes?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Ryunise confirmed and lifted her head and posture for examination.

Doctor Ramoul felt along her throat, then her jaws and along her temples. He brought out his own spectacles and settles it onto his face. It was more for magnification than to actually write or see. The elder man paused, hesitated, when he peered at her eyes.

“Doctor?” She blinked.

“Ah! Is that Sir Doctor Ramoul?” A male called out in the distance. He was coming closer. She recognized him as father by his voice rather than his shape, but also noticed another figure a head taller than Marcaes walking with him. Both wore the same uniform.

“My Lord Emerodelle,” Ramoul stood up and bowed at the waist with his right partially back behind him in honor, “Oh! And Duke Lucard, a surprise!”

“Are you in the middle of examining my daughter? How is she?” Marcaes knelt beside Ryunise’s chair.

“Hello, father,” She spoke to him. A look flickered across his face. Stiffness? His brows furrowed a bit, and it made her tilt her head just slightly.

Marcaes was a lithe man in his early 30’s with raven-wing black hair, a broad chest and strong, powerful shoulders. They would have to be, as he is Captain Commander of the Second Air Knights Regiment. He is also part of the Royal Bladen Special Unit, which can be mobilized at any time under direct control of His Highness Excellene King Leorvis Regima Rakoul. Today he was wearing the succulent carmine, meaning he was on regular duty as Captain.

Their uniforms consisted of tailored suits designed for ease of movement, folded cuffs with asymmetrical lace peaking from beneath it. Proud gold buttons pinned down the front torso, flaring like a twin tailcoat from the hips to the backs of the knees, and trimmed in gold woven ropes. The collar was high and dignified with the jeweled crest and shield of the Air Knights clamping it shut. The pants were poured like spandex into black felt and leather heeled boots that covered above the knee. To distinguish Marcaes as Captain, the cape draped over the left half of his body from his tasseled shoulder pads was engulfed in the color of obsidian instead of the white silk and feather that all other knights must wear. His medals were numerous and a heavy burden on his chest under the cape, all given by royalty for his accomplishments. The long twin swords at his hips were both black and white with emeralds imbedded in the decorative guard, both passed down in the Emerodelle line and a symbol of the House’s heir.

Marcaes was an outstanding member. He blew through many ranks within one year of his joining the military due to his rare double affinity with Bapheis, the God of War, and June, the Archmage. Because of the two Gods favoring him his full given name by the Church was Marcaes de Elemenfang Emerodelle. Rarely did he take a day off, yet somehow found time to handle his manor’s affairs, and also is a master trainer for upcoming and young swordsmen. It earned him the nickname ‘The Order Knight.’

“I…I mean…P-Papa…” Ryunise bit her lip. Even with her eyes fogged she could at least feel the disappointment from Marcaes. Instantly like a shot of sunshine in the morning his green eyes twinkled.

“How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” He smiled faintly, the rest of him demure and calm.

“No, Papa. I’m okay,” Her cheeks were still a bit warm from blushing. The word felt so foreign it was embarrassing.

“You still can’t see?”

“Not in details, no. But I can get around now. I’ve walked in the gardens today.”

“Little Lady can’t see?” The other man, Duke Lucard, spoke and knelt on one knee to take her other hand.

Whoa. Whoa, wow, who is this?