The Eternal Queen

Chapter 5: Ardele

I keep my gaze down, admiring the concrete pavement, trying not to cause any commotion. This kingdom is teaming with life, the buzzing of the streets infectious. Laughter rings downtown the town square, sounds of chattering taking flight.

I grip my cloak harder. The less people who notice me, the better. Here, in the streets it will be like passing by a ghost. There are so many people, it will be easy to get overlooked. Anyone can disappear on the streets.

A sign hanging off of a large building says inn, and I open the large doors. A burly man with a huge beard is sitting with his arms crossed at a desk by the entrance. I do not look up, and he does not question me.

"One room," I say, lowering my voice an octave.

"Four bronze coins."

I hand him a silver one, and he gives me back six bronze coins. Luckily, both North and South grounds use the same currency.

"Dinner has already passed, but supper is available until three in the morning. Breakfast is served at six."

I nod, and he gives me a key that has a number on it. I settle at a table, telling the waitress that I would like supper packaged so that I can eat in my room, and the waitress scurries off. She sets the boxed food on the table, and I quietly thank her before walking towards the rooms. I stop at the twenty-second one, unlocking the door with the thick key.

The lock clicks open, and I step into the dimly lit room, finally having some solace. I drop the food on the desk pushed into the corner to my right, and I set my dirty pack on a trunk at the end of the bed. The sword tied to my waist is rubbing my side raw, and I reluctantly take it off, leaning it against the bedpost.

Moving to the washroom, I draw a soapy bath putting in the soap from the cabinet. While the tub is filling up, I take out my dirty clothes from my pack. I wrinkle my nose at the smell, and I dunk them in the sink, washing the grime and sweat from the clothing. Wringing the garments dry, I hang them up in the closet. I finally move to the tub to wash my body. Bathing was a whole ordeal as I could barely move my left arm due the gash running down my side.

The towels are scratchy against my skin, harshly rubbing the red welts. The wound on my left side needs to be cleaned now. There is no infection, but there is still some dirt to get flushed out of the wound. The waitress from earlier dropped the supper off in the front of the room, and I spot a glass of alcohol. Grabbing the glass, I wet a piece of cloth with the liquid before pressing it to my skin. Gritting my teeth from the burn, I clean the wound as best as I can, and I sew it shut with steady hands. My stomach is growling the whole time, but I will my eyes open and my stomach quiet. I need to concentrate. Cutting the thread, I set the needle down on the nightstand, and I let out a groan. I am not a stranger to cleaning and sewing my wounds. And yet, I am exhausted. The bed is calling my name and I look at the mattress longingly, but the smell of the stew is more enticing. Food first.

I wake up disoriented, wiping away some drool that dribbled out of my mouth. Stretching on the bed, I sigh contentedly. It feels like century since I have last slept in a real full sized bed. Despite working for the king himself back in Clairemont, the pay was not great. Getting the small cottage on the outskirts with many land to my name was the best I could do. And that was for more of the fortunate people.

My stomach is full from the supper I had last night, or rather early, early morning and my limbs are not overworked for once. They are extremely stiff, but manageable. Glancing over out the window, I jerk, hitting my knee on the bedpost. Oh, that hurt. The crow outside my window is glaring through the glass, before finally flying away.

Rubbing a hand down my face, I sigh. It is eight in the morning; I need to get up if I want to eat free breakfast before I leave. The room is dark, and I push the curtains open, letting the room wash in golden light. My tangled, shiny, black hair is all over the place, and I contemplate whether I should cut it off or not. It reaches all the way down my back, hitting right above my bum. It is a constant liability, but Sister Verlaine told me she loved my hair. She never let me cut it when I was younger, and the aching feeling returns to my heart. I miss her. One of the oldest memories I can remember are with her. Sister Verlaine of Gallamine.

The wind blew in my face, and a butterfly kissed my nose. It was wonderful. It was exactly how Sister Verlaine described meeting God. A person would feel wistful and joyous. There was no other way to explain a supernatural encounter. I turned on my heel and I noticed the pink roses lining the sides of the church. I grinned when I picked one for her. She loved roses.

I ran inside the church, and I am met with Sister Verlaine sitting in the chapel with her back faced towards me. I walked behind her and gently patted her shoulder. A wistful grin pulled on her lips when she turned around.

"I found God, Sister Verlaine."

"Oh?"

She patted the seat next to her, and I sat down eagerly.

"What did he say to you?"

I twiddled my thumbs before realizing that I still had the rose in my hand. I passed it to her with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry. Here is your flower, Sister Verlaine."

She kissed my forehead in gratitude.

I paused before I answered her question. "God told me to be happy."

I twist the ebony stands back into a chignon, leaving some front pieces to frame my face. I blow a calming breath out, stabilizing my mental barrier. I need to stay strong. For her. And ultimately for myself. She told me to live before she had a peaceful death. Luckily, she died before calamity hit the village.

Grabbing my pack, I look around the room again. Moving swift, I shove some of the complementary items into my bag, soap, a tiny comb, and more. My riding garments are pretty worn out, torn on the edges. Looks like I will have to wear them thin.

The dress I am wearing currently is considered "high fashion" in Clairemont at the moment with the large sleeves and high collar. I am going to need to go out and buy a dress to match the townspeople. Or else I will stick out like a sore thumb. I cannot wear my riding garment out in broad daylight. I will look like a prostitute if I do so. I sigh. Why couldn't I have had packed more simpler dresses?

The cloak I have been wearing is drying up on a hook by the door, and I reminisce the memories of the past few days of travelling. The change of weather, the chance of being robbed, the chance of death any second. I run my hand through the black fabric before swinging it around my shoulders, trying to cover as much of my dress as possible.

Swinging my pack over my shoulder, I climb down the stairs, thanking the innkeeper on my way out. Stepping foot out into the community in daylight is a whole new experience. This community looks to all be quite rich as I do not see any peasants walking the streets. Everyone seems to be in class it seems here in the town square. Even the shop owners look to be making a decent living.

Last night, I found a used map of the city of Arcana, where I am now, in the back of the bar at the inn. I was lucky to walk through the unsupervised part of Arcana's territory into the town square. Very lucky indeed. I keep my examination of the surroundings quick and thorough. No need to unnecessarily stare longer at objects that I do not need to. The stone paths are the only thing getting my direct attention. From the onlooker's perspective, it is easier to recognize a face rather than a silhouette.