Chapter Text
The three ringed city is silent. The night is dark outside. The stars, twinkling overhead, watch over Ezrest as it sleeps. Yet Agott Arklaum can't sleep, not right now; so instead she's staring out her bedroom window. She's on the third floor of her family row house in the outer ring of the city. Her room overlooks the road. Her home is a scant stone's throw from the main highway, only silent now in the deepest night.
The lamps are lit, flickering with magic. The cobbles are worn. Agott sighs, brushing tussled locks of black hair from her face. The sky is cold and dark above, her eyes drawn down to the glittering pinpricks that make up the palace, rendered nearly invisible save for the lamps of the guards patrolling it. Agott sighs, turning away. She crosses her small bedroom with confidence in the dark, arriving at her roughly hewn bedside table in short order. She pulls up the left sleeve of her sleeping shirt, then taps her right hand to a nearly complete circle on her arm.
Light spills from under her fingers, beaming out against the bare walls and her face. She pulls her right hand away, willing the power flowing around her towards the tip of her finger. A little flame leaps to life there, and she lights the candle on her bedside table.
She lights it, then snuffs the finger-flame with a swift flick of her wrist. Warm light swathes the room around her, and she brings it to her desk. She sits, ignoring her half-empty ink pots, her well loved pens in their jar, her loose notes, and her texts stacked on the far edge. All of that doesn't matter though, her focus is pulled to the neat proclamation, leafed in gold, and signed by the High Queen herself, that sits upon everything else.
A commission. She has a royal commission. It still doesn't feel real. Agott stares at the stiff paper, at the royal seal stamped on it. Head swimming with sleep, she reads it again.
Her Royal Majesty decrees that the eldest daughter of the Arklaum family, being Agott Arklaum, shall report to the castle and take up the commission of Spellblade in the guard. Effective March 13th, 1020. This commission shall last in duration for no less than five years and shall be paid in monthly installments of forty crowns.
A commission. A commission as a Spellblade, one of the most esteemed positions a witch can occupy. She's always been confident in her abilities and skill, she just… didn't expect to get sent straight to the top like this. She never thought she'd be elevated so far, so very far.
"It's not even that far away." She tells herself, "You could have been sent to an Atelier in the middle of nowhere Agott. You'll still be able to see everyone. You'll still be in the city." She hugs herself, glancing back out the window at the castle.
She takes her candle with her to the windowsill once more. The cold air washes over her face, cooling her anxieties, forcing her muscles to relax a little against her will. She stares again at the sky for a moment, at the distant starts twinkling above all of this.
"This is it." She tells herself softly, "This is the start. The beginning of something new. Everything you've worked so hard for your whole life." She shuts the criss-crossed glass window. She latches it. Then draws her curtain closed. "Should get some sleep though, or we aren't gonna impress anyone." Despite her own insistence, she paces instead of climbing into her single-width bed. Back and forth, back and forth, expelling the frantic energy pulsing under her skin like the hot surface of a wood stove.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
This is her chance. She'd be a fool not to take it. Its her one chance to get out of the outer ring while not abandoning the city she loves. Her body sags, energy bleeding from her limbs in rapid gushes. Excitement doused by exhaustion.
All at once, she throws herself at her bed. A quick, ruffling tumble of limbs and linen later, she's under her blanket and lying on her side. She rustles, fussing, aiming to get comfortable enough to truly relax and possibly sleep. Her hair, in her eyes, is brushed away with ease.
She'll never fall asleep. She's sure of it.
The deep double-toll of the local belltower stirs her, followed by consistent strikes. A shock of energy through her has Agott leaping from her bed, cursing herself for her folly as she throws open her window, she watches the church tower way down the road, listening.
Five… six… seven…
She sighs, melting into the frame. "Not late." She reassures herself. She pulls away from the windowsill and dresses. Plain trousers. Plain tunic. She musses her hair and sighs, looking fondly at her room before she steps out. The hall is quiet. Her brothers aren't home, they're working the fields up the peninsula for the rest of the season. Looks to be a nice day out.
Her parents have likely already left, and sure enough she finds the kitchen barren and cold. The oven hasn't even been lit, so she opts for a small loaf of bread and heads through the cramped space that has been her home for years. Dusty. Bare wood. A few lamps. A few chairs set around a stone fireplace no bigger than two feet across.
She takes her worn cloak off the tarnished hook. Her small purse jingles with coin as she throws it over her shoulder. Good. Mother didn't take her scant savings. She puts herself together in quick order, heading back upstairs to pack some of her essentials. Her treasures too. Her magic texts, her own collection of notes, her inks, and her pens.
In a rush, far too quickly, she's back in the living space, at the door. She looks back at her empty home one more time. The sun cuts a shaft of bright light through a smudged window, resting upon a table she once practiced magic at.
"Bye." She says before leaving, and never looking back.
Ezrest is busy already. The noise, the hustle and bustle of carts and throngs of people, the shouts, the general rabble, the smell, floral, tree-ish, with an undertone of human sweat and toil. Shops are already working. Smiths are already heating up their forges. Acrid scents mix in as the breeze shifts. A woman and a donkey nearly bowl her over as she takes it all in.
Agott wouldn't change a single thing about it, she loves this city, and its people. Agott slips into the crowd, munching on her bread while she follows the circular street she's lived on her whole life with the crowd. The sky above is cerulean, dotted with fluffy clouds here and there. The cobbles are stark but warm gray. The people, as always, are loud.
She catches a few snippets of gossip from a gaggle of women who pass her. Something about scandalous relatives. She smirks, and presses on; wading through the thick crowd at the first intersection.
A vast road runs from the gates at the outer walls, all the way into the Palace Grounds. This highway is lined with gardens owned by the city, and the river is redirected through a deep channel adjacent to it. Agott turns towards the second ring, away from the outer gates. The sun climbs higher and higher over the capital of the peninsula as she makes her way. She passes beautiful row houses of stone and black metal and multi-faceted windows. Bright flowers. People relaxing on benches. Merchants ferrying large amounts of goods through the channel with relative ease.
She passes the local general store, a squat building on a side street just off the highway. An old bald man with a great big gray beard, washing his windows, spots her. "Morning Miss Arklaum, off to the palace then?" He asks.
"Hello Mister Nolnoa. Yes. It's the first day of my commission." She says, "I have to hurry, don't want to be late."
He chuckles, "Best not be! Her majesty is quite impatient I hear."
"Talk later!" She says, waving as she carries on to the second ring, the section of the city between the two innermost circular walls. There's a great big arch cutting through the tall white walls, and four pointy helmeted guards stand vigil over it. Witch-soldiers. The bread and butter of the Kingdom's army. Clad in chainmail, helms, and covered by the sunny symbol of the reigning monarchs on their tabards.
She passes them by entirely unnoticed.
The inner city is much the same as the outer, only richer. The houses are larger, the space between them is tighter, the gardens are lusher, and the people are better dressed. Agott tugs at the collar of her simple green cloak nervously as she eyes up the fanciful dresses of the women, full of frills, patterns, corsets, and broaches shining with colorful jewels.
The crowd on the highway thins out as she goes, more folks turn to reach their varied destinations, leaving her alone with her thoughts as she approaches the third ring. Her bread is gone by the time she reaches the moat surrounding third ring's walls. Here the greenery is cut back, replaced by cold stone courtyards with plenty of room between any buildings and the wall.. This archway is gated, and two more guards stand vigil over the slight opening. The third wall is taller, with guards posted every few feet. What exactly they're on guard against, she's never been sure.
"Ho there!" One tall, mustached guard says while holding a hand up to her. "State your business in the palace."
"I am Agott Arklaum, I have a royal commission as a Spellblade, I'm to report to the palace for duty today." She says, pulling out the declaration from inside her cloak. The second guard takes it, lifting her visor to examine it. Agott stands, unsure of what to do with her hands, so she grabs the strap of her bag and hums softly to herself.
A man stands nearby, thick black cloak, simple straw hat. His facial structure indicates a level of handsomeness, if you're into such people. The other guard notices him and waves him in. "Go on ahead, the Queen is eager to see you." The man in the hat smiles, his gray eyes flicking Agott's way before he steps past the iron gate and quickly disappears. She watches him go, lingering on his expression for a moment before her attention is grabbed.
"I don't rightly hold with her Majesty's view of commissioning the common folk, but the seal is legitimate. In you go." The lady guard says. Heat flashes behind Agott's cheeks at the familiar feeling broiling inside, so she snatches the commission and goes in; mind abuzz.
The interior of the third wall is beset by great big fruit trees. They very nearly reach the top of the wall, and their great boughs cast a deep shadow upon the highway. She walks through the grove with curiosity, glancing to and fro as she takes in all the types of things growing. Peaches, pears, and apples of every shade. Clover clings to the skirts of each vast trunk. Small critters scamper here and there, and birds sing from hidden alcoves in the boughs.
It's entirely different than the outer city, which is loud and busy and chaotic. Here the air is still, near-silent, and slightly chilled. Everything on this side is currently in the shadow of the palace itself, that massive pinnacle of stone that stands proudly over the city. Two great towers rise from its shape, easily doubling the height of the building. She knows from hearsay that one is where Her Majesty and the crown princess live, and the other is where their magicians study.
The main bulk of the building slowly comes into focus as the trees part. It's vast, cathedral like, with a vast half-circle of stained glass over the wide steps of polished marble. The doors are silver, and inlaid with intricate symbols of the Kingdom's legends. Casting out the brim-hats, taming or slaying great dragons of old, heroes and tragedy. Agott is familiar with most of the stories, she learned her letters through determination and stealing Mister Nolnoa's books. The old codger knew what she was up to back then, and tutored her when he could.
Now she stands, unchallenged on the threshold of the palace. The silver doors are thrown open, and she cautiously, with a look over her shoulder at the orchard and the wall beyond, she steps inside to start her brand new life.