Highwater and Glass

The Mourning Mist, Chapter 2 - Eloise

Eloise Glass did not fare well with solitude. And yet it had become part of her routine. Every morning, she sat in the dining hall of The Blue Keep in Port Shorishal Castle. She sat in the same seat, the very end of a long wooden bench in the southeast corner of the hall at the first of three empty grand banquet tables. From this vantage, she could take in the entire expanse of the room, the dark stones, the cathedral-like arching ceiling, the roaring fireplace, and the three sets of glass double doors that exited to The Blue Keep's grand porch.

They were open, as was the season, and a soft breeze stirred the delicate silk sheers imported from the fabric district north in Gora's Keep. Soft clouds rolled by lazily over a brilliantly blue sky. It was beautiful, but she hated it. Day after day, without friends or family to share it with, simple visual meditative joy had lost its appeal.

She had been sent to Port Shorishal when she was eleven. Her father, Lord Taren Glass of Hedgemont made the arrangement. Through some trade agreement Eloise didn't care to understand, the King of Iron Fen and her father had become the best of friends. As a favor, Eloise was shipped far from home across The Einalian Sea to be educated by the sages of Port Shorishal and trained as a knight by the most elite warriors the kingdom had to offer. Eloise had no say in the matter.

That was five years ago. Eloise was now sixteen. And in five years she had not "settled in" as her father had said she would. She missed her friend Freida and her sister, Deiadara. She had not made friends with the ladies of the castle. They were all too prissy for her taste with soft hands that never touched a day of labor, slender waifs in elegant flowing gowns. Eloise's sister perhaps would've fit right in. She was a graceful dainty creature, where Eloise was strong and stocky with thick legs for jumping in and swimming like a frog. But even then, Eloise wondered. She was distinctively an other, an outsider. The people of Port Shorishal were pale like milk, often blonde, dotted with light freckles, with gray, blue, or sand-colored eyes. Eloise was considerably darker with golden brown eyes and tightly curled hair. And aside from the occasional attention from intrigued travelers that annoyingly treated her as a rare specimen, most eyed her from a distance, or perhaps worse (she couldn't decide) ignored her altogether.

And then, there was Princess Annette, the granddaughter of the King of Iron Fen. Her future rule was all but guaranteed. As such, she was untouchable. She was treated like a goddess from the day of her birth. And such treatment had spoiled the child rotten. She was only twelve, and yet the miserable girl had decided to make Eloise her personal subject of ridicule. Eloise preferred to duck out of sight when Annette rounded the corners of The Blue Keep's halls. But when she wasn't quite quick enough, Annette would be sure to let her hear it.

"I dare say, what was that?" Annette would say, feigning fear. "A passing lumbering gorgon of legends old? A beast so ugly, it means death to all men who gaze upon her? Someone call the guards! Tell them to follow the stench of rot it carried across the ocean."

And the other ladies would laugh.

Once, Annette had paid a stable boy to pretend he had a crush on Eloise. His name was Jona. He had an oddly shaped nose and he was far beneath Eloise's station, but he was the only person Eloise's age who had treated her with any kindness. Or so she thought. After a week of courtship, he took her to the stables. He told her to close her eyes, so he could give her a kiss. He spit in her face and took his bag of gold. Annette laughed from the window.

She still saw Jona from time to time, mucking horses and brushing their manes. But never again did he look at her like an actual person.

The closest Eloise had in Port Shorishal to a friendship was actually not in any way like friendship at all. That was her relationship with Sir Morris Tristane. He was the knight saddled with the task of training her. As such, she saw him regularly, three times a week, barring conflicting duties. He had a bad leg and was perpetually cranky. He believed training a young woman to fight was beneath him and he let Eloise know it. So, the relationship wasn't so much friendship as the only regular human interaction Eloise knew she could count on.