The Narratives of Kaos: Book 1: Chapter 4: Opal

Chapter 4

Opal

It was never the pleasant aroma from Miss Puella’s cooking that awoke Opal Hawkins from her slumber, but the the rabid behavior of Opal’s son, Victor. This morning was no different, as the rambunctious child leaped onto his mother’s bed and proceeded to shake her from her slumber.

“Ma! Ma!” the young boy gleefully shouted. “It’s time to get up.”

Opal let out a groan as she split her eyelids, sunlight bombarding her eyesight from the window that was surprisingly no longer caked in filth.

“DId she clean the windows?” Opal asked, squinting at the clean glass.

“Uh huh.” Her son then jumped off the bed, and ran back to the origin of the lovely smell that finally worked it’s way to Opal’s nose.  

Bread. Like every day before. Opal congratulated herself by not being sick of the stuff already. Or perhaps it was more a testament to Miss Puella’s cooking, having made the same daily meal for months and it still tasting as delectable as the first day.

Opal gingerly got to her feet, feeling the the effects of the ale she had indulged in the night before, little of which she could remember.

“Good morning,” Miss Puella said as Opal finally walked into the compact cookery. She was standing over the fire pit in the corner, making sure the bread wouldn’t be burt.

Miss Puella was generally a kind hearted person, with much to give and little interest to take, but the way she said “Good morning” was enough for Opal to indicate that something was upsetting her. It was similar to the tone Opal would use on Victor when he misbehaved.

“Good morning.” Opal quickly made her way over to the old tree stump that she and Victor used as a dining table, where the child was already sitting, awaiting his favorite dish. As quietly as she could, she whispered to her son, “What’s wrong with Miss Puella?”

“Nothing at all,” Miss Puella said sternly from the corner.

Opal mentally cursed. “Thank you for cleaning my chamber window.”

“Someone had to do it.”

Opal decided to take notice the sounds of the sizzling of the fire pit and the horses from outside trotting by, pulling carts and carriages past in a leisurely manner. Anything but the tapping of Miss Puella’s foot on the floorboard.

“So,” Miss Puella said finally, “how long are you to be gone for this commission?”

“I don’t know. Queen Vavilla was very vague about such details. All I know is that it will most likely take up the majority of spring.”

A small pause. “Will it be dangerous?”

“Very.”

“You are to participate in battle?”

“If it that is what is required of me.”

Suddenly, there was a tugging at Opals fabric. “Ma, where are you going?” Pain filled Opal’s heart. Had she really not told her son?     

She pulled her son into her lap. “Well, Victor, Queen Vavilla is sending some of her soldiers to the Dunes of Ignus to help with… everything going on.”

“What?”

“Oh no!” Miss Puella cut in. “Don’t go telling him what’s going on in the awful place.”

The boy frowned. “What is it, Ma!”

“Nothing, Victor,” Opal said under the gaze of Miss Puella. Suddenly, Opal had a funny feeling in her gut. “What time is it?”

Miss Puella didn’t look up from her own plate, which she was now bringing over to the table. “Noon.”

Opal cursed as she stood up. “I’ll going to be late!” She fumbled about, heading into her room and grabbing her effects. She stuffed a few pieces of bread into her mouth as she tried to fasten her scabbard to her waist.

Before bursting out the door, she waved to Miss Puella, and hugged her son. “I’ll return before summer begins. Listen to Miss Puella, Victor.”

Then she left, running down the cobblestone streets of Greal as she held her sword and dagger, her scabbard flailing behind her as she ran.

In the distance, she could here her son calling, “I love you!”

   

    The golden Castle of Greal shimmered in the afternoon sunlight as Opal charged up the hill it sat on. She hurriedly crossed the drawbridge, which was thankfully still open, and lunged into the front foyer, where a large line of servants stood, awaiting their queen.

She quickly got in line, adjusting the scabbards on her belt so her dagger and sword were correctly aligned. Her sword, never before a participant in battle, was very unique in design being as the hilt resembled a dove. The crossguard acted as the remarkably detailed wings, spread as if the bird was in actual flight. It’s beak firmly imbedded into the ricasso, and the tail feathers acting as both the grip and a pommel. All this combined with a light shimmer of silver.

    Her dagger, on the other hand, was average, save for the few sprinkles of coral on the hilt. It didn’t really fit her personality, seeing as how she wasn’t too fond of the sea, but the sentimental value was high enough to persuade her to keep it.

    At the beginning of the line Rykor began to examine the men and women, walking down the line. Every so often he would mutter a greeting, or explain to someone that they needed to straighten their chest plate, but he didn’t pause for more than a few seconds. That is, until he came to Opal.

He studied her from head to toe. “Good morning, Miss Hawkins,” he said.

    “Morning, Rykor.” She couldn’t help but notice the man’s rugged features as he began to scribble on the parchment.

    “How’s Victor been?”

    “Fine, although he now has an infatuation with becoming a knight, thanks to you.”

    Rykor shrugged, but didn’t smile as Opal had planned. “The young man would be a great knight. I see a lot of potential in him.”

Rykor continued his evaluation of her, eyeing her waist, where her sword and dagger were sheathed. Before she could react, he drew the sword. It was a good thing Opal had become used to this type of behavior from her superior, elsewise she would have resorted to less than benevolent behavior.

“This is truly a remarkable sword,” Rykor said, examining the dove. “The winged quillons are a particular point of interest.”

“You say that every time you hold it,” Opal sighed.

“And after all those times you still refuse to inform me of it’s origins.”

“I see no need to.” She let a small smile cross her lips.

Rykor handed the sword back, then switched his gaze to the dagger still sheathed in her scabbard. He squinted, as if trying to remember something. “And the seashell dagger is from your… mother?”

“Both parents actually.”

He frowned. “I thought you never knew your father.”

Opal nodded. “I didn’t, but when my mother gave it to me, she told me… well, she really didn’t say it was from him, but I could put the pieces together.”

“And what exactly are these ‘pieces?’”

She grinned mischievously. “Another time, perhaps.”

Just then, the doors at the far end of the corridor opened, and a large party entered.

Queen Vavilla lead them, donning a trail coat of golden silk with white trim. Underneath: a tunic of the same description. Both her arms were laden with gold bracelets that emitted a light jingle with every step she took. Her thin neck, proportionate to the rest of her, held a necklace, with three large citrine gemstones settled just above her chest.

Beside her, in gleaming armor of plate and leather, was Decorous Qa-hil. His bald head was hidden under his helmet. His hands were rested at his sides, cracked from years of hard training.

He was Queen Vavilla’s personal guard, the eldest in the castle,and by far the most experienced with a sword. It wasn’t often he left her side, the queen had authorised him to lead this quest along with Rykor.

Rykor gave Opal a nod, then went on down the line, inspecting the others.

Queen Vavilla and the soldiers behind her made their way to the center of the corridor, where the tiled sun sat. She stopped on it, and turned to face the line of servants.

Intimidation was the only word Opal could use to describe her feelings of the scene she had witnessed, and she was certain that same feeling was apparent the others in line with her.

There was a silence, only filled by scratching of Rykor’s parchment.   

    “Your report, Rykor?” Queen Vavilla finally said.

    Rykor finished his writing as he took his place beside the queen. “All are present except for Flacon.”

    “And I believe that Miss Hawkins arrived late, is this true?”

    Rykor gave a sympathetic look to Opal. “Yes, your grace.”

    Vavilla lifted her chin. “Perhaps you shouldn’t let your friendship with Miss Hawkins stand in the way of your duty. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course.”

Vavilla turned. “Qa-hil.”

Decorous stepped up. “Yes, your highness?”

“Did you train these servants as I asked you?”

“Yes, although Mr. Falcon had a habit of missing those sessions as well.”

The queen nodded. “A shame.” She then raised her hands, motioning to the line of servants. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for being here today on this, the most prestigious of occasions.” her voice echoed off the corridor walls. “You fine individuals have been selected, or have offered,” she gave a quick glance at Rykor, “to represent Greal in the noble duty of assisting our comrades located in Ignus with their civil war.”

The sound of footsteps against tile abruptly halted Vavilla’s speech, as a man came running into the corridor, quickly assembling his effects. Opal wondered if that was what she looked like when she arrived.

The man was young, about Opal’s age, a patch of brown hair, untidily kept, sitting upon his head. He got in line, fastened his scabbard, then stood still, as if he had been in there the whole time.

Queen Vavilla sighed. “As I was saying, I appreciate your compromise in this situation. You will not be going alone, however, as my most trusted knight, sir Decorous Qa-hil will be joining you, along with Rykor Stronghold.”

A number of cheers, as well as a slight applause, were given.

“I have received word from king Xanthus that you will be traveling to the Foto, a large fortress, and the crown jewel of the Dunes of Ignus. It is there you will assist Xanthus in whatever threat he may be dealing with. I wish you all luck, and I truly hope you all return in the same condition. Now go prepare for the journey, it will be a lengthy venture.” The foyer began to empty. “Not you two.” She pointed at Opal and Wade. “Step forward.”

    They did as they were told and stepped up to the Queen.

    Opal began to speak, “Your highness, I-”

    Vavilla raised her hand, indicating it wasn’t the time for Opal to speak. “I will not accept excuses Miss Hawkins. But, seeing as how this doesn’t seem to be a constant issue for you, I won’t punish you as harshly.”

“Thank you.” She bowed.

Vavilla turned to Wade Falcon. “You, on the other hand, have a habit of being tardy for a number of ceremonies and assemblies. Why is that, Mr. Falcon?”

“I have my reasons,” the man said as a grin etched his lips.

“Wade,” Rykor said to the man. “You must answer the Queen in a polite manner when she asks you a question.”

Wade, his smile still apparent, bowed. “Oh, my apologies, your highness, I was only late because I was in a tavern last night, drinking my worries away.”

Opal cringed at the similarities between her story and his.

“You mock me, boy?” The queen’s nostrils flared. “Unless you wish to embark on this quest alone, I suggest you show a little respect.”

Wade raised his hands defensively, still grinning.

Vavilla squinted, and pointed at the two of them. “I expect you two to behave on this journey.”

Opal swallowed, remembering giving her son the same type of talk.

“Yes, your highness,” they said.

“Now off with you.” And with that, the queen, Decorous, and her legion of knights turned, and exited the foyer through the doors of which they came.