Memory 004: GR - The King's Ball (TrivNeu)

[justarider]

Game Received: Persona's round-robin storytelling game, Day 375, midday
Team Played With: various (groups changed)
Memory Form: a simple gemstone in your team color, a little larger than a blueberry. Endlessly shareable, although the memory begins to fade in intensity with time.



Karigan approached the grand entrance to the ballroom from a walkway
that wound through the rose gardens of the east courtyard. The cloying
scent of red and pink blossoms almost overpowered the still night.
Luminiers flickered along the walkway with a festive radiance that might
have put her in a celebratory mood if not for the choking collar of her
Green Rider uniform. Once again, Captain Mapstone had seen her into the
formal uniform, this time with the addition of a gold sash about her waist.


Music and gold light, conversation and laughter, and orchestral music
drifted from the open doors into the warm evening to mingle with the
chirping choruses of crickets. Guests in colorful finery clustered around
the entrance and Karigan wondered again what she was doing here. Like
her father, she was not fond of the aristocracy and here she would be
surrounded by it.

She stood in line, tugging at her collar, waiting while two guards in
king's livery checked invitations. Her palms sweated because she had not
been given one, and had nothing to show the guards. She was about to turn
back, to return to the sanctuary of Rider barracks, but was just then
noticed by a guard.

"Hey, Greenie," he said.

Karigan swallowed and stepped forward.

"You have an invitation?"

"I, uh…"

The other guard laughed. "Greenie's trying to break in on the ball
without an invitation."

Karigan furrowed her brows. "I was invited. Rather, I was commanded
here by the king himself."

The first guard broke out laughing. "Commanded! That's a new one.
Commanded by the king to attend a ball."

"Greenies never pull their weight," the second said. "King's a magiclover
if you were invited."

"Begone, girl. We've lords and ladies to attend to."

Karigan put her hands on her hips. This sort of treatment she expected
from aristocrats, not from fellow commoners. "Now you listen here—"

"Is there a problem?"

Karigan almost did not recognize Alton D'Yer. He stood resplendent in
a gold silk waistcoat and a long red coat. A gold medallion, undoubtedly a
family heirloom, hung from his neck, and a royal blue sash was tied about
his waist. He definitely was not attired in green, though his gold-winged
horse brooch was pinned to his lapel. Thunderstruck by the
transformation, Karigan almost missed the two guards bowing.

"There is no problem, my lord," the first guard said. "This Green Rider
has no invitation, therefore she cannot be admitted."

"Oh," Alton said. "It has nothing to do with the king being a magiclover,
then?"

Both guards blanched. "N-no, of course not, my lord. I mean, we didn't
mean to say…"

Alton's face grew stern. "Enough. This Green Rider is with me." He
handed the invitation to the guard and steered Karigan into the ballroom.

As soon as they were through the entrance, Karigan quailed. She
wanted to turn back and run, no matter what the guards would think. The
ballroom exceeded the size of any great hall she had ever seen. It
possessed vaulted ceilings like that of the king's throne room, supported
by carved granite pillars. The floor was checkered with exquisite tile
illustrated with scenes from the legend of Hiroque, Son of the Clans.
Large doors opened up to balconies and the night air.

Dancers swirled around the ballroom in brilliant colors, the long dresses
of ladies sweeping the floor and their jewelry sparking in the light of
crystal chandeliers. The formal coats of men twirled as they swung their
partners around the dance floor. Everything seemed to sparkle and
shimmer, and Karigan felt very small and plain in her Green Rider
uniform.

"Oh, look," Alton said, smiling. "Someone dug out all the old
tapestries."

Tapestries representing each province billowed on the walls. Faded and
worn tapestries of original Sacor Clans, clans that had long ago
disappeared, had also been hung.

"I suppose the king wants to remind us all of the days when the Eletians
were not strangers to the Sacoridians," Alton said. "There's D'Yer's."

Its field was gold like his waistcoat, the crest a simple sword crossed by
a hammer, and bordered by a stone wall design. It matched the design
etched on his medallion. The tapestry was too far away for Karigan to read
the words stitched beneath the emblem.

"The hammer of D'Yer shall break stone," Alton quoted, as if reading
her mind, "but no other shall break stone walls built by D'Yer. It is said
my ancestors learned the craft of stonework from Kmaernians, and though
they mastered it, they were never able to achieve what the Kmaernians
had. Even so, D'Yer stonework was considered the best outside of
Kmaern. The castle is built of it, and so is the D'Yer Wall. But if I've heard
correctly, the D'Yer Wall has been breached."

Karigan caught herself pulling at her collar again, thinking that if her
father had designed the uniforms, they would be far more comfortable.
She cleared her throat when she noticed Alton gazing hard at her. Did he
know she was the one who had reported the breach of the D'Yer Wall? Or,
was there something else in his expression? Perspiration slid down her
temple.

"If I didn't know any better," Alton said, his voice barely heard above
the orchestra, "I'd say that you were a bit shy of crowds."

"I— I—" She blushed, confirming Alton's suspicions. "Aristocrats," she
blurted.

"Ah, you are allergic to us."

Karigan crossed her arms, wishing away Alton's patronizing smile. He
wasn't the usual aristocrat, perhaps because of his connection to the Green
Riders, but there were moments…

"Look, the Eletian." Alton pointed across the room, and there, flickering
between the blur of swirling dancers, Zachary sat on a smaller replica of
his throne chair, conversing with another. Karigan's impression of the
Eletian was simply of gold hair— gold hair such as she had never seen
before.

"Shall we go meet him?"

Karigan was horrified by the very idea, especially since it would bring
her in proximity to the king. "Uh, no. I'd rather stay here." "Here" was just
inside the entranceway hidden by shadows.

"How will the king know you're here, then?"

Karigan gave Alton a cockeyed glance. "Are you now my keeper?"

"No, the captain asked me to look after you."

Well, that explained it. Leave it to Captain Mapstone to make sure that
Karigan had someone watching out for her own interests. "I have no wish
to see the king or to be seen by him."

Alton shrugged. "Do you want to dance, then?"

"Dance?"

"It is what people do." His eyes seemed to laugh at her though his
expression was perfectly sober.

"No." Karigan didn't mind dancing in a family setting, but this was far
different.

"I'm off to the refreshment table, then. Skulk in the shadows if you
wish, but watch out for Weapons." He strode off along the edge of the
dance floor, weaving in and among people, pausing to greet a few.
Karigan stood alone, an island in the midst of a sea of strangers. She took
a deep breath, then plunged after him. He handed her a goblet of wine, and
a single sniff told her it was Rhovan White. "Good," he said. "I see you've
decided to join the festivities."

Karigan held the goblet tightly, her hand shaking. The entrance was
now many lengths away. Aristocrats fairly jammed the place, and over the
scent of her own wine, she could smell their perfumed bodies as well as
the underlying sweat. A breeze tickled her as the dancers swept by. Their
long gowns brushed against her. Excited voices chatted over the orchestra,
their words an indistinct babble. The colors of different clans sprinkled the
crowd. More gold of D'Yer, the purple of L'Petrie, the cobalt of Coutre.
The scarlet of Mirwell. She started, spilling wine on her hand.

Alton passed her a cloth napkin. "On nights like this," he whispered in
her ear, "there are no enemies. It is part of the intrigue."

Karigan shivered despite the close heat of the room. She did not
recognize any of the Mirwellians present.

The orchestra music ceased, as did the dancing, as if only the music
controlled the motion on the ballroom floor. The dancers, some panting,
some fanning themselves, laughed and clapped with gloved hands before
converging on the refreshment table. Karigan watched with wide eyes at
the tide of people descending upon her, and was edged toward the dance
floor by Alton.

She nearly panicked in the crush of swarming, moving bodies which
flowed by her like the torrent of a river. She turned round and round and
bumped into a stout old man. The beard looked vaguely familiar. Then it
dawned on her: the old man with the bear pelt at the throne room entrance
the other day, only now he wore…

Karigan jabbered something unintelligible, and the old man glared at
her. "Humph. Manners lacking, eh?" he said. "I don't know what kind of
training they give you messengers these days. Spence! This person has
spilled wine on me."

A woman in the uniform of Mirwell Province was instantly at the man's
side, dabbing his scarlet surcoat with a cloth. The woman was tall and
attractive, but expressionless. Then her winged horse brooch caught the
light. Karigan opened her mouth in exclamation, but a subtle shake of the
woman's head stopped her short.

"S-sorry," Karigan mumbled.

"You will be sorry," the old man said, "if you bump into me again." He
sniffed. "At least you have good taste in wine."

Alton reappeared, and before she could consider the significance of a
Mirwellian wearing a Rider brooch, he grabbed her by the sleeve and
hauled her onto the dance floor. The music piped up again, and a
mischievous look crossed his face. He took her goblet and placed it on the
tray of a passing servant. He held both of her hands in his and steered her
around and around the floor at a breathless rate, magically synchronized
with the music and other dancers. Karigan stumbled, but Alton helped her
find her footing.

The dance was similar to the reels she knew from clan celebrations—
the music was just fancier here. Her stomach muscles loosened, the dance
releasing some of her nervous tension. She fell into the rhythm of the
dance, the surroundings all a blur like the Wild Ride, so dizzying that she
thought she might lose her bearings and fly across the room.

"Look at me," Alton said, "and you won't get so dizzy." He grinned at
her as he led her through the circular motion of the dance.

Instead, Karigan closed her eyes and imagined herself on horseback, the
swishing of long gowns sounding of wind, her heartbeat the rhythm of
hoofbeats. The hoofbeats. She shook her head, yet she could not rid
herself of the rhythm which meshed with the dance, speeding ever faster.

Alton released her hands, and she spun to another partner. She found
herself face-to-face with the Eletian. He nodded to her with a smile as if
he knew something she did not, and carried on the rhythm of the dance.

Karigan's heart pounded harder, hard enough, she was sure, that
everyone else could hear it, especially the Eletian. His pale blue eyes, eyes
like the winter sky, met hers only briefly before turning elsewhere, taking
his secret with his gaze.

The music ended, and he dropped her hands. She watched breathlessly
as he bowed away, the spectators watching both of them, the women with
envy. Karigan's cheeks burned as she strode quickly off the dance floor in
as dignified a manner as possible. She followed a current of fresh air to a
balcony. No one else was there, and she walked directly onto the parapet,
her hand over her thrumming heart, willing it to slow down.

The moon sat in the sky like a fat silver coin with a halo radiating
around it. In one corner of the balcony, a brass telescope sat propped on a
tripod, pointed toward the moon. She placed her hands on the balustrade
and ran them along the smooth granite craft of Clan D'Yer.

"You dance well." Alton stood behind her.

"I didn't hear you come out," she said.

"The music is starting again. Do you want to dance?"

"I've had enough for one night."

"Karigan, the Eletian…"

"I— I don't want to talk about him." She shivered remembering those
cool hands and whatever secret his blue eyes held.

"All right." Alton's expression clearly said that he did not understand,
but he would not press her. The two stood at length, not speaking. After a
time, Alton cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I pulled you into the dance like
that."

"The dancing was fine," she replied. "It's the aristocrats I don't—" She
stopped, remembering who she was talking to. "I've got to leave."

Alton caught her arm. "I uh… was… I would… What I want to say
is…"

Karigan raised a brow as blood flooded Alton's cheeks. Suave Lord
Alton had turned into a fumbling schoolboy, and it served him right, too,
for dragging her into the dance. "What is it you want to say?"

"I…" Now Alton pulled at his collar. "Would you consider… Would
you… I mean—"

"Lord Alton, how good to see you."

They both turned as King Zachary strolled onto the balcony, his hands
clasped behind his back.

Alton released Karigan's arm and bowed hastily. "Sire, how may I be of
service?"

"By allowing me to have a private conversation with Rider G'ladheon."

With a crestfallen look, Alton bowed again and returned to the
ballroom. Karigan had a time holding her tongue. Imagine the king
presuming to call her Rider G'ladheon!

"My apologies for interrupting your conversation with Alton," the king
said, misinterpreting her expression. When no response was forthcoming,
he added, "I am pleased you made it to my ball."

"It has been very nice, and I'll thank you now, but I must be off."

"Hold one moment if you please. Could we talk for a bit?"

Karigan couldn't exactly turn down the King of Sacoridia no matter how
much she wished to flee, could she?

He stepped up to the balustrade beside her, and gazed at the moon. "It is
a night an Eletian would appreciate, don't you think? A silver moon out of
legend, yet our fine guest lingers within the stone walls of the castle."

In the ballroom, where the gold light glared, the orchestra was on break,
the courtiers surrounding the Eletian. He spoke and nodded to his
admirers, his smile most charming. Karigan had imagined all Eletians,
especially after meeting Somial, to be above such earthly concerns. It was
a night to walk beneath the moon, a night to chase silver moonbeams.

Zachary clenched and unclenched his hands. "He offers us ties with
Eletia, something that faded shortly after the Long War. And he offers
me… great things. Powers that have not been seen since the First Age or
the beginning of the Second. Powers, he says, that I can use to keep order
in unruly towns like North, or to prevent folk in Adolind from starving the
next time winter lasts longer than their food stores. Can you imagine? He
offers me powers that would make your Green Rider brooches look like no
more than trinkets."

"Do such great powers still exist?" Karigan asked.

"He says that strong powers emanate from Blackveil Forest, and if
Sacoridia keeps the breach in the D'Yer Wall open, Eletia will filter and
purify them using its own powers." Zachary removed the silver fillet from
his brow and began to comb his fingers through his hair. For a moment,
years fell away from him, and he appeared a youth not yet hardened by
rule: young, afraid, and alone. Vulnerable.

"He offers me much," Zachary said. "Too much, I think, though it has
not been my experience to know what Eletians are like."

"So you have to figure it out for yourself."

Zachary smiled grimly. "One is used to listening to advisors. All of my
court counselors are entirely charmed by Shawdell the Eletian. I suppose I
should be, too." He drummed his fingers on the granite surface of the
balustrade. "Here I am assured no one listens, and I've posted Weapons by
the doorway so that no one drifts out here. I fear that in my own throne
room others can somehow hear what I say, though it appears the room is
secure. Thus, the game of Intrigue yesterday. You must have found it quite
strange."

Karigan nodded, relaxing a little. "You thought that if I had something
important to say, it would be overheard by the wrong people."

"Yes. I am particularly concerned about the Mirwellian aspect of your
journey. Do you have a few moments to share that with me?"

Karigan told him everything she could remember, including Torne's and
Jendara's references to the king's brother. This time she found an absorbed,
avid listener, rather than the unpredictable and nonchalant Intrigue player.

"Why were they after Coblebay?" he mused. "His message was
worthless."

Karigan shrugged, her opinion of the king now bending toward pity.
She had no brothers of her own and so couldn't fathom the betrayal he
must feel.

"I trust you will be in the city for a few more days," he said.

"No, actually I plan to leave—"

"I see. When will you be returning?"

Karigan gaped. "Excellency, I don't plan to return. I'm going home to
my family. My father is a merchant. It's spring, and he will need me."

The king's expression froze, and she wondered what he did not want her
to read. As a king, he must be a master at masking his expressions, or
otherwise possess no political leverage, just as a merchant must maintain a
neutral gaze during a transaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked her. "After all, you are a Green Rider now. At
least in name if not legally sworn in."

"I'm not a Green Rider," Karigan said, maintaining her self-control
admirably, she thought.

"I could command you to sign papers to become a Green Rider, to work
in my service, but I don't think that will be necessary, and I can only guess
how much you would resent it. Coercion is not my usual tactic. Laren—
Captain Mapstone— informs me that being a Green Rider is more a matter
of spirit than desire, a compulsion, if you will. Something about
hoofbeats." Zachary strode across the balcony to the telescope and bent
down to peer up at the moon. He pulled back, blinking. "It's bright."

Karigan blinked, too, as if struck. King Zachary had reminded her of
someone, the someone she had seen in the brass telescope of the Berry
sisters. Images she had seen, of a man much like Zachary, with brown
almond-shaped eyes, but slightly older with careworn lines on his brow,
imploring her not to… not to go away; that he needed her and could not
bear to lose her. Karigan trembled. A future vision? Blood drained from
her head and she wobbled.

The king steadied her. "Are you all right?"

"No! Yes. Please, just stay away. I'm leaving. I'm not a Green Rider and
never will be."

Driven by a fear that the future might happen if she stayed there with
him, with his hands on her arms, she ran from the balcony without
bowing, ran past the Weapon Fastion who stood in the doorway, his usual
stoic expression scandalized. When she erupted into the glare of the
ballroom, a few heads turned to look, then resumed conversation and
sipping wine. The orchestra tuned up, and the sound of off-key notes
clamored in her ears.

Alton D'Yer tugged at her sleeve. "Karigan, are you—?"

She yanked her sleeve away from his grasp and pushed unapologetically
through the guests in desperation to leave. She broke free near the
entrance and looked back over her shoulder. King Zachary stood by the
balcony doorway watching her with a bemused expression, Alton D'Yer
was lost in the swarm of aristocrats, and the Eletian, though in the midst of
a group, seemed to stand apart, almost godlike with his golden hair and
perfect features. He caught her eyes and smiled. That smile of secrets! She
was not warmed by it, and without looking back, she darted into the
darkness of night.