Miradey

Charlotte Ironhart

Daybreak lit the sky as Charlotte admitted how impractical her delicate footwear was for the terrain. Ivory and black lace slippers. There was a matching fan for the slippers and gown. Where was her fan? Then she remembered.

Left behind. Burned to cinder. Her heart faltered as she recalled the nights events in a series of flashes, refusing to allow her mind to cling to any one image. She dropped them like shards of broken glass.

At the foot of the mountain in the Southern fields, Charlotte stopped walking.

"Minnie," she said. "You are dismissed from my service."

"My lady?"

Tender, bruised feet striding determinedly over shards of rock despite feeling every one of them through her dirty slippers, Charlotte kept walking towards the hilly fields.

"You are dismissed."

Behind her, she heard the girl collapse into tears, sobbing loudly. From the manor, Charlotte had caught rumor that things in the village were not as they had once been. She was certain the girl's own would take care of her now.

Never one for magicking herself from place to place, not only terrified of winding up in a wall or in the mouth of a mountain dragon but also in no state to do so, Charlotte continued towards Willowend Way Hill on foot.

~

Constraining her unladylike breathing and trying to persuade the bones of her corset to come out from lodging her sides, she reached her destination sometime later, mostly unseen as the villagers started their day with shop keeps unlocking their doors.

Charlotte did not expect a welcome at the top of The Hill. Nor was she fully prepared for what found her there at the gate.

Doria Draco, Third Dragon on The Hill, appeared in a beautiful betiding of sunrise and desert sands. There was no smile on her face nor welcome in her hard golden eyes.

"Leave."

Clearing her throat, Charlotte curtsied, tatty ash and charcoal dirtied hems brushing the unpaved path.

"Grand Sorcerer Draco, allow me to introduce—"

"I know who you are. Thought you perished in the fire. Get off my property."

She raised one white salt and pepper streaked brow. "Your property?"

Doria's gaze narrowed on Charlotte.

"My property. As half or more of all things in this village belong to my people. In perpetuity. Since we built Nyte Village with blood, tears, and pain."

As it would not do to accuse this very powerful and influential witch and her entire race of theft, especially given the occasion for her visit and that she knew firsthand that wizards of her kind were certainly not innocent of any wrongdoing, Charlotte changed the subject.

"I see the current Dragon is not present."

At the mention of Drase Draco, the Fourth Dragon on the Hill, Doria's chin went up proudly.

"My daughter has better and greater things to do than see to the likes of you."

Charlotte sighed. "It is not my intent to fight or aggravate you, Grand Sorcerer Draco—"

"Good for you," Doria said with a huff, sparks and smoke shooting from her nostrils. "On the mountain last night, I saw your mansion in flames. Again. For the last time it appears." Smoke still rose from the ruins of Ironhart Manor. Obviously assuming Charlotte had lost everything in the fire and sought to lean on the mercies of her people's ruling House on The Hill for aid, Doria continued, "If you seek an audience at Serpenten House and have come unexpected, the Severins are not likely to come to the gate the way I have. Seeing as I am not a maid, I won't ring them for you. If you haven't noticed our families are in the midst of a longstanding feud. Good day."