Musical Illusions

[Julen]

Julen opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again as Railtus’s words began sinking in. All that the man had said was true. But Julen never thought of those actions as bravery. Bravery was saving children from hungry trolls or fighting in distant wars. The things he did -- the sacrifices he made for Rosemary, for Aranel -- that was just the way that decent people lived their lives. What husband wouldn’t do everything in his power to support his wife? What man wouldn’t take a risk to protect the stranger who had probably saved his life?

And yet...and yet, perhaps there was more to it than that. Excitedly, Julen’s mind tackled the new ideas Railtus had placed in it, like child enticed by a pile of unfamiliar toys. Not everyone was decent. Julen had seen enough of the world to know that. There were husbands who abandoned their wives, men who betrayed the people who tried to help them. Was it possible that those men weren’t just wicked? That they were weak...afraid. Too weak and afraid to do what Julen did every day?

A hundred questions tumbled through Julen’s head, and he wanted to ask them all at once. No one had ever presented the world to him like this. No one had ever made him think this way before. But he didn’t know where to begin, so he simply waited, listening intently as Railtus continued to speak.

As Railtus argued that his birth meant nothing, Julen couldn’t help having doubts. Years of unquestioned living in a class-conscious society had left their mark. When Julen looked at Railtus, he saw someone fair of form, gracious of speech, and obviously in possession of deep wisdom. He was, in every sense that Julen understood the term, truly noble. How could he say that his bloodline didn’t matter? When it had gifted him with all of that?

No, Julen thought. It’s kind of him to say it, and maybe he even believes it, but I’m not his equal. I never will be. I was not born to be.

For a long moment after Railtus finished speaking, Julen remained silent, watching the shadows enact strange pantomimes on the walls of his room. Then he drew a deep breath. The questions in his mind had coalesced into a single query. In his heart, he knew he might not like the answer he received. And, with equal certainty, he knew that whatever answer came, it would bind him to a course of actions from which he might never be able to turn. But he asked the question anyway. “Alright. Let’s say that I am brave. Brave in my own way, at least. What does a brave man do now?”

[Sir Karsimir]

"I wish I knew."

If only wishing made it so. Railtus regretted disappointing Julen, but he felt pretty sure he couldn't answer that question for him. He was dimly aware of the anti-climax of convincing Julen to have faith in himself and then not having answers. Maybe that was the point? Maybe Railtus should not have the answers. Maybe the answers were Julen's.

Leaving his armour hanging on the chair, Railtus sat cross-legged on the floor. For a noble's son, he seemed to have no objection to the concept. Some may have found it strange, but the motion flowed naturally from Railtus. He sat silently for a while, clearly deep in thought. Considering Julen's plight, it was well deserving of an answer.

"For the magic, I can think of no immediate solution. As for raising funds, I have a thought." It seemed strange to be going there. Railtus felt on shaky ground, he wondered if the solution would be demeaning. "My father has considers it more fitting to my station for me to have retainers." Somehow the words felt heavy, almost dirty on his tongue. "And he has authorised me to draw salary for them. It is something I have been reluctant to use, remembering my brother's toadies." Railtus drew a sharp breath at what he was saying, thinking of the memory. "At present I have need of a guide. Should I learn more of your skills, there may be a post you could fill for my House. I would certainly vouch for your character."

[Julen]

Julen nodded. He felt glad that Railtus hadn’t offered to simply give him the money. Not that Julen was too proud to take charity, not exactly. But he knew that a lot of people were more in need, and probably more deserving, than he was. To accept a handout from Railtus would be to yank it from the purses of the starving widows and orphans that the noble might have otherwise given it to. But if he earned the money, then that was different. That was fair.

“I’m afraid that I’m not very skilled in the fine art of toadying,” Julen admitted with a friendly grin. Railtus had seemed uneasy when he suggested that Julen serve him, and Julen wanted to show that he wasn’t insulted -- that, in fact, he considered it a perfectly natural state of affairs. “But I’m familiar enough with the area to be an adequate guide. And running a farm requires quite a smattering of skills. I know a bit of blacksmithing, carpentry, animal medicine. I can care for tools and mend leather. I can even cook a little. Perhaps...” Julen hesitated, trying to remember the stories his mother had told him. Trying to remember the word she’d used. “Perhaps I could be your...squire?”

“Of course,” Julen hastened to add, “if that doesn’t suit you, then I would be honored to serve your House.”

Just after the words left his lips, something occurred to Julen. “Um. Where exactly is your House?” He hoped that he hadn’t just volunteered to serve somewhere far beyond the borders of Thar Shaddin.

[Sir Karsimir]

All of this felt to have gone well. Surprisingly well in fact. Not two hours since finding his way into Marn, Railtus had been drawn by a vision of beauty to find a man of true and selfless courage. A man in dire straights, true, but a man battling on valiantly against things Railtus had no idea how to face.

When Julen suggested being a squire, Railtus was amazed it had happened so fast. Such a thing was momentus commitment, a loyalty that had to be won, and earned. It was something indeed to believe for such loyalty to be offered within scant minutes of knowing this man.

And yet to look at Julen, everything about him declared sincerity. He meant it. He meant it when he offered so much to Railtus. By how Julen had spoken, it seemed he felt he was being presumptuous to make the offer.

So stunned was Railtus that he was barely conscious of the next words. Until the question the prospective squire finished with, where his House was. The question was so amusing he had to laugh out loud.

"Very well." began the young man cheerfully, "Where shall I begin?" he wondered aloud, a pleasant smile on his face. Even more pleasant with the realisation that his laugh had not woken Aranel. "How about the beginning?"

"All of those are skills I lack, and one's I could certainly make use of. If you would wish to be my squire, I can only wonder how I have earned such loyalty." Complete earnestness showed on his face, which, granted, was no great change in Railtus. "I am not yet a knight, although my plans lead in that direction. As such, I cannot yet keep a squire, so your title would instead be footman, with duties much the same."

Now for the practical side, "Until I have made contact with Anstrun holdings in the region, I can pay you as a guide five bishan a day from my pocket. Once salary is being drawn and you are a footman in my employ, which should take naught but days, you will recieve ten bishan daily for your services. This cannot be backdated." No harshness was in his voice, only plain openness of the situation.

"On that subject, and that of my House, my House is the House Anstrun. We have holdings in the region, and may well have a trade for you if you would prefer that. As I understand, we have a merchantile presence in Marn." said with no particular pride, "Which as a guide you could show me to."

[Julen]

“Footman,” Julen repeated to himself, eager to fix the term in his mind. He could hardly believe that Railtus had actually accepted his offer, that he hadn’t been rejected for being too unskilled or lowborn. Julen’s enthusiasm made him eager to start learning right away. “Yes. I’d very much like to be your footman.”

Five bishan a day was significantly more than he’d managed to earn doing odd jobs. And ten bishan a day would be enough to help Rosemary get the farm running again, maybe even allow her to buy a few luxuries of the sort that Julen had always wanted to give her -- a small bottle of perfume or a dozen ivory buttons. But the money wasn’t what filled his heart with excitement. It was something else. Growing up in Shim, he’d always thought he knew exactly who he was. He’d always thought he knew exactly how his life was going to be. And that wasn’t a bad thing. On the contrary, he’d looked forward to the small joys that farm and family promised him. But he was a seed that had never imagined it might be anything other than a seed. Talking to Railtus made him realize that he had the potential to actually sprout and grow.

Noticing Railtus’s surprise when he offered his allegiance so quickly, Julen wanted to reassure him that the decision wasn’t an impulsive whim that would be regretted after a good night’s sleep. So, fumbling to put his feelings into words, he answered what was probably a rhetorical question.

“It isn’t exactly loyalty, although I sense that such loyalty wouldn’t be misplaced. And it’s not exactly trust, although I doubt such trust would be betrayed.” Julen tugged at the cuffs of his shirt, wishing he was more eloquent. “I can’t even say that I fully understand what I’ve agreed to do. Being a squire is just something I remember from the stories my mother told me. But I know that it feels right -- more right than the day I took over my father’s farm, more right than when I married Rosemary. It feels like what I’m supposed to do. And I swear to you, I will do it the best that I damn well can.”

“As for House Anstrun, I am familiar with them. In fact, one of your relatives used to come to Shim rather frequently, before Rosemary and I got married. He took her on several trips to Marn.” Julen wondered if he should mention that the man had been another suitor and decided against it. It sounded too smug. Anyway, he’d never really understood why Rosemary chose him, when his rival could have offered her so much more. And whenever he asked her, she just put her hands on her hips, giving him a look that was equal parts disbelief and pity. Then she kissed his forehead with lips soft as rose petals...

Blinking, Julen yanked his thoughts back to the present. Apparently four months without seeing his wife had taken their toll. “In any case, I can certainly take you to their main residence in town. But perhaps we should get some sleep first? Tomorrow, we can consult with Aranel, and see if there’s any way that our plans might be made to help her.”

[Sir Karsimir]

Going well so far. It was refreshing to see the change in Julen. Not long ago, what Railtus had seen was fear and despair. Now, there was joy and hope for the future in his eyes, his voice, his manner.

That next promise was spoken with passion. Even the hint of doubt was a good sign, since it showed that this was a man who did not take promises lightly. A promise such as this was best accepted gladly.

More right than when I married Rosemary. Railtus mouthed the words silently, disblelievingly. If he was stunned before, that had knocked him from his feet. So it was probably a good thing he was already sat down. A conscious decision was made to let that pass without comment or question. It was what seemed wisest and best.

All he did was hold his composure and listen quietly.

Of course, there were only so many reasons why a nobleman would bring, how he loathed the use of the term, a 'peasant girl' on trips to the city and suddenly stop visiting once she was married. It would be a hard feat indeed to picture Julen as the jealous kind, and Railtus would have hoped from his kinfolk that if he thought so highly of the lady before her marriage then he would retain respect and affectionate friendship for her afterwards. Perhaps it was shame? Or hurt from the rejection? When he at last met his relative, he would make a special note of not asking about it.

Sleep. Yes. That seemed like a good idea. Occasionally Railtus would forget such things, so consumed by his drive and passion. Perhaps Julen would be a good influence? Without something like that one day consumed might be the right word.

Hospitality was no stranger to Railtus, it was common for travelling nobles to stay in each other's households in his homeland. Were it not for this, such an indirect offer to stay would have taken him aback. Here was one of the few aspects of his noble heritage he was fully able to accept.

And accept gladly.

"Very well." he said, "I have yet to eat, however. I shall do that, and then await the morning."

[Julen]

“Food!” Julen exclaimed, and then clamped his hand over his mouth, afraid that he’d woken Aranel. But she continued to sleep. The poor girl must be exhausted. Lowering his voice, Julen continued. “I should have offered you something to eat when you first arrived. Please forgive me. If Rosemary was here, she would never have allowed such an oversight.”

Rising off his bed, Julen walked over to the room’s single table, from which he lifted a canvas bag and pitcher of water. Then he presented both items to Railtus. “The woman who owns the bakery, Effie, often brings me some of the leftovers she’s no longer able to sell. They’re a little past their prime, but they still fill a man’s stomach. Besides, a firm crust is good exercise for the teeth, isn’t it?” Julen chuckled at his joke, and the unfamiliar noise startled him a little. How long had it been since he last laughed? Too long. It was good to feel hope again.

“There should be half a loaf of rye bread in there,” Julen informed, gesturing to the bag. “And a few pastries as well. Please eat all that you wish. When you’re finished...” Julen paused, casting a fond glance at Aranel. “Well, I’m afraid that I can’t offer you the blanket. But you will, of course, take the bed.” This last statement was accompanied by a look which showed that no arguments would be heeded.

[Sir Karsimir]

Again the concept was highly amusing. "When I first arrived, Julen, you had far more serious things to worry about." Again he bore that easy smile.

This Effie sounded like a woman worth meeting, she reminded Railtus of his youth. From what he remembered the others in his family were more than happy to let things go to waste, but it was always Railtus who made the point of collecting household leftovers and seeing that they go to people who could appreciate it. It was something he had not known others to do in his youth, but here he had seen signs of kindness in the world.

Taking both the bread and pitcher, Railtus reached into a small pack and pulled out another small bundle. "Join me." he said, unwrapping some sweetcake. "It turns out I have more food than was planned for my journey, rights of salvage from a run-in with a few bandits." Said with a shrug. He remembered not to say explicitly that the food was taken from the dead, civilians were known to be squemish about eating what once belonged to corpses.

It was a welcome meal. One more suited for his tastes than the exotic fare back home. Simple meats were his favourite, but down-to-earth loaves and pastries had their appeal as well. Casting his mind back, he thought of spices, and wondered what was the point.

The thought made him chuckle mid-meal, something bound to be off-putting. As much to break the silence as anything else, he spoke. "As for sleeping, I have been trained for combat, you haven't. I can sleep on a folden rug with my cloak as a blanket and be more than comfortable." A quick glance flicked towards Aranel. "You have a guest already, and it would not be good of me to impose when there is not need. Guests also have a duty to be fair to their hosts."

A new thought struck him, and his smile faded suddenly. Still warm, a grave concern showed on his face. "I know little of my family here." he admitted. "You have experience of them. What can you tell me about them?" On his face was something that on any other man would be called fear. Gazing down the path of his memory, the images brought flickers of shame.

Now he was paying perhaps too much attention to the food. It was clear that he was keeping busy.

[Julen]

Only now realizing how hungry he was, Julen sat down on the floor across from Railtus and tore off a piece of the sweetcake Railtus had offered him. He hoped that, one day, he would be able to play host at his own house in Shim. Instead of leftovers, Railtus could feast on one of Rosemary’s marvelous dinners -- a loaf fresh out of the oven, a chicken roasted over an open fire until its skin was brown and crisp, vegetables freshly dug from the earth that grew them. Perhaps some berries and cream for dessert. Unaware that he was doing it, Julen smiled. Even the memory of her cooking made this humble fare taste better.

When Railtus insisted that Julen sleep in the bed that night, Julen remained unconvinced. But he postponed his objections. A good host didn’t badger his guest during a meal. So, it was only when Railtus asked about his family that Julen broke his silence.

“Well, the only one I ever actually met was the middle son, Phelan. And that was only briefly. He had come to fetch Rosemary for one of their engagements in Marn and seemed eager to be on his way. But my impression was of a refined and well-spoken man. He was also quite handsome. All the village girls giggled over him.” Julen paused, trying to recall anything that Rosemary had told him about her former suitor. Oddly, she didn’t talk about Phelan much. In fact, since returning from that last trip to Marn, she hadn’t so much as mentioned his name. “He was quite generous with Rosemary. Bought her a bracelet and a beautiful pair of dancing slippers decorated by hundreds of tiny glass beads.” Julen remembered those slippers. When he’d made the mistake of suggesting that Rosemary wear them on their wedding day, she’d thrown them at him and run out of the room crying. After that, they seemed to vanish, much as Phelan’s name had vanished.

“As for the rest of them…” Julen offered Railtus a helpless shrug. “Rosemary must have met them, since that’s surely one of the reasons that Phelan took her to Marn, but she never mentioned them to me. Perhaps she worried that it might intimidate me. Or perhaps it reeked too much of idle gossip. In any case, all I know is their general reputation. House Anstrun is prosperous and well-regarded. The head of the House, Lord Kendall Anstrun, is a shrewd businessman. His wife is a noted patron of the arts, commissioning a great number of paintings, sculptures, and songs to celebrate the family’s history. One of the daughters is said to be a great beauty.”

Julen had tried his best. But he could sense that he’d failed to tell Railtus what he really wanted to know. So, returning his attention to the bread in his hand, Julen finished his meal. When Railtus had done likewise, Julen again tackled the issue of the bed.

“It’s true that I’m not trained in combat. And it’s also true that I’ve rarely spent a night on the floor.” He didn’t mention that, when he first came to Marn, he’d spent several nights on the streets. “If I was only your host, I might -- might -- let your arguments sway me. But I’m not just your host. I’m also your footman. And I find it impossible to believe that a good footman rests in bed while his employer sleeps on the ground.”

[Sir Karsimir]

"Thank you." Some measure of ease returned to him, erasing the doubt that appeared so unnatural on him, although one so young seldom carried such certainty. For what he heard, he was thankful, at least. He had witnessed some less than perfect conduct inside a Noble House, it was fortunate not to have to expect such here.

Everything said sounded fair, and it was... welcome to hear that Phelan had been generous towards a young lady. One mention, however, intrigued him far more than most. "We have a history worth celebrating? Locally?" Hope lit new brightness to his eyes.

Even more inspiring was the faithfulness just shown, along with the delight of seeing his footman argue with him. Many of the aristocracy preferred fawning and servile attention, failing to appreciate the obvious worth of loyalty over submission. Here was a case in point.

"In truth, I am not just being polite. As I understand, all are entitled to their own space. It is something I would not wish to step in on. For all your generosity, it is your bed, and I would not feel comfortable sleeping in the bed of another."

"When I your stipend starts, then I have a right to the bed."

[Julen]

When Railtus asked for specifics about the history of his relatives, Julen could hear the hope in his voice. Again, he wished he had more information to impart -- wished he could tell Railtus that they’d built a shelter for war orphans or driven off a dragon that was terrorizing the countryside. But he just didn’t know. “I’m afraid that I’m not familiar with the details,” he apologized. “As of yet, no one has invited me to view the paintings and sculptures, nor to hear the songs.”

Seeing Railtus’s face begin to fall, Julen hastened to keep it from total collapse. “It’s quite possible that your family has done marvelous things. Shim is its own little world. For those of us who live there, an early frost or potential drought matters more than the doings of all the nobles in Marn. Many things could happen that I would never hear about. The answer you seek, I suspect, is best gotten from your family when you visit them tomorrow.”

And that brought them back to the issue of the bed. Hearing the last line of Railtus’s argument, Julen couldn’t repress his laughter.

“Alright,” he acquiesced, standing up. “You win. I’ll take the bed tonight. But only because I suspect that I’ll be enduring all sorts of uncomfortable sleeping arrangements for the sake of this job.”

Worn out by the night’s events, Julen sat down on the edge of his bed and yanked off his boots. Normally, he slept naked, but it felt odd to undress in front of Railtus -- not to mention Aranel, who might awake at any time. Besides, without the blanket, he’d need his clothes for warmth. So, once his boots were off, Julen tossed one of the bed’s two pillows to Railtus, and then lay back on the remaining cushion. Almost immediately, his eyes began to slip shut. However, before sleep completely claimed him, something occurred to Julen. Something so simple and obvious that he’d nearly forgotten it. “Railtus?” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his voice vulnerable and sincere. “Thank you. For everything.”

[Sir Karsimir]

"Goodnight."

As usually happened, Railtus remembered lying down, remembered waking up to the faint light of dawn, but had no recollection of the part that happened in between. All of these times, he made an educated guess - that he fell asleep. Somehow, dreams had not once ever came to him.

Blinking away the sleepy grit from his eyes, Railtus pulled himself to his feet and stretched himself out. Once more he reached into his pack, and found some of the remaining rations once captured from the fallen bandits. He knew Julen would not begrudge further hospitality, but he did not relish the thought of rummaging around someone's house like a common burglar.

In a manner quite usual for Railtus, he left a second wrapped bundle for when Julen woke up and then began to ready a third meal for Aranel.

Hold on.

Where the hell is she?

Her bow and arrows were gone as well, the blanket draped over the chair. By all appearances, she had left of her own accord.

Well, it was past dawn. He would stir soon anyway. Stretching to the full reach of his arm, he tugged on Julen's ankle to wake him.

"Julen!" he whispered fiercely, "Aranel's missing!"

[Julen]

Unlike Railtus, Julen dreamed frequently and vividly -- an ability which, perhaps, stemmed from the same magic that conjured the illusions he cast during his waking hours. That night, he dreamed he was wandering through the corridors of an immense and extravagant house. He’d been following Railtus, but something had distracted him, and now he was lost, his calls unanswered and his footsteps echoing down the endless hallways.

Then, in the dream, he heard it. Something behind him. Something angry and hateful, shuffling along in the shadows. Something that wanted to kill. Panicked, Julen began to run, screaming Railtus’s name. But his friend was too far away to hear him.

Abruptly, the hallway ended, and Julen found himself facing an angel. This one bore no resemblance to Aranel, nor to any earthly creature. But Julen knew what it was. Felt what it was. With eyes made of exploding stars, it seemed to look at him, and in each of its hands -- which were not exactly hands -- it held a beaded slipper.

Choose.

The thing behind him was catching up, getting closer, until Julen could swear that he heard its snarling inside his own head. The sound of it maddened him, making him snatch at the nearest slipper without thinking. All the tiny glass beads sewn to it had turned the color of blood. And inside the slipper, scribbled on a scrap of paper, in Julen’s own handwriting, was a single sentence:

Tell her that I’m never coming home.

No, Julen begged, reaching out to seize the other slipper. There has to be another choice! There has to be!

But it was too late to make any other choices. The angel vanished. And in despair, Julen turned around, to find that the angry, hateful, snarling monster…was himself.

A strangled cry sprung from Julen’s throat as he felt something grab his ankle -- surely a demon, come to drag him down into hell. Then, his eyes jerked open, and he realized he was in his room, lying on his back in bed. Railtus had woken him. But even as the dream began to fade, Julen’s mind remained too jumbled to fully take in what Railtus was telling him. “Gone? Aranel’s gone? Gone where?”

[Sir Karsimir]

"I don't know. Her gear is gone as well."

Something was clearly troubling Julen. It could wait. Sensitivity did not mean inability to prioritise. Why would Aranel leave during the night without telling anyone? As good a sense as he had gotten about her, he understood completely that he did not know the woman at all.

Could she have simply stolen? No. He knew that was impossible. For her to have done that would have required darkness in her heart, of which there was none. So why would she leave? Was she afraid? Was she being chase? Was she faced with a panic and now trying to distance herself from the singer's magic? There would be no guessing how she would react to discover yet another stranger sleeping inside, and

"You have met her, I haven't. Is there any reason she would just run off like this?"

This was perhaps all to much with which to bombard the man as he was barely waking up.

"Get up. Eat. That should give you time to come to a decision."

[Julen]

Sitting up, Julen swung his legs over the side of the bed and shoved his hands through his hair. Waking never came easily for him. But the feel of his fingertips dragging against his scalp helped to rake away any remaining bits of dream. Now, finally, he could take in the things Railtus had already noticed -- the blanket draped over the chair, the disappearance of Aranel’s possessions, and the absence of Aranel herself. There were no signs of a struggle, so presumably she hadn’t been taken against her will. She’d just left.

“I barely knew her at all,” Julen admitted sadly. “I never found out why she came to Marn. Or why she risked herself to help me.”

When Railtus instructed him to eat, Julen took the offered bundle and began to nibble at its contents. But his mind wasn’t on the food. He kept thinking about Aranel, wondering why she’d left. Perhaps she’d only been feigning sleep during his conversation with Railtus. Perhaps, upon hearing him volunteer to serve as Railtus’s squire, she’d decided that her own goals now conflicted with his and had slipped out so that he’d be able to pursue his new path without worrying about her. Julen wished he could have done more for her. But he’d given her a song, and a safe place to sleep, and in this cruel world, that was something. He hoped that Aranel would remember the elvish lullaby he’d sung to her. He hoped that it would comfort her in times to come. And, perhaps, one day they would meet again.

May the gods look after you. Wherever you are.

Finishing his meal, Julen thanked Railtus with a nod of his head. Then, suppressing a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the washbasin. The morning air felt cold against his chest when he removed his shirt. But he still splashed chill water onto his face and under his armpits. His remaining shirt was, fortunately, clean. As Julen buttoned it up, he hoped that he’d be able to make some sort of decent impression on Railtus’s family.

Finally finished with his morning rituals, Julen felt fully awake. And fully able to reach the decision Railtus had asked for. “Aranel has chosen to go her own way. I think, for now, we should go ours. I’ll leave a message with Effie, telling her where we’ve gone. That way, if Aranel comes back here, she can find us.”

Of course, that raised another question. “Should I continue to rent this room? Or will I be staying with you and your family? Not as a guest, of course -- but in some sort of servant’s quarters?”