Iron

1 - The magician as a girl

The fields were barren these days, the sun hot and scorching. While Iria longed to run freely through the cool shadows of the forest, to feel the gentle breeze caress her cheek again as it carried the stray leaves, the days that passed brought only heat and drought. The forests, though rare, still existed, though they were strictly off limits for someone of her status. They weren't her property, after all. The king owned the forests, just as he owned all the land, and he'd decided they be closed off to everyone but nobles and some lucky workers who desperately needed it. She didn't, really. The farm was enough.

Though she wished he would, she knew the king wouldn't share with just anyone. Only the noblest of the nobles, her mother had said, only they were allowed their own property, which they then divided amongst their own men, creating a complex web of ownership, with as grand centrepiece the king himself.

It wasn't fair, Iria thought. The nobles only ever used the forests for seasonal hunting and the occasional walk anyway, why shouldn't others be allowed? She thought these things a lot, though she never voiced them: the punishment for these things was harsh. Still, that didn't stop her from daydreaming of giving her superiors a piece of her mind, although she knew it'd never actually happen.

If they didn't hurt her (punishing a child of barely 11 wouldn't look too good), they certainly would hurt her mother. Iria didn't want that. Her mother was the most precious thing to her, her sweet mother who'd lovingly raised her even as Iria's mere existence was the cause of her fall out of favour with the higher classes.

The higher classes in this case being Lord Barre: a filthy rich but friendly-looking man with greying hairs and a kind smile. He was an experienced magic user, it was said, but not a very good one. He was as kind as he looked, until one of his women betrayed him, apparently. Having several wives was frowned upon, but it wasn't prohibited, as such, Lord Barre at some point had five. His Lady, the one he chose to share his noble status with, wasn't exactly pleased with this, but she liked his money enough not to mention it.

Iria didn't know the details, to be honest. Her mother refused to speak of them, her dark eyes shrouded with sadness and her silence absolute whenever someone so much as mentioned Lord Barre. From what Iria had found out, she simply didn't look like him enough to be recognised as his offspring. Accused of cheating, she was sent to a remote farm, working for the farmer there, a silent character who only had critique to offer when he did speak.

It wasn't too bad the first 7 or so years, really. Out here, there were so many lakes and forests and wonderful things, all of them her own personal playground. There weren't many kids her age, but she didn't mind, she liked being alone and exploring by herself. These wonderful things were no off limits for the common people, though. It made her blood boil just thinking about it.

She didn't know what happened exactly, no one did. What she did know was that one day, in the grand central city, a terrible disaster had occurred. Magic gone wrong, most claimed, hundreds of variations on that account circulating. From then on, forests became scarce as droughts plagued the lands and lakes dried up. The weather had become unpredictable and suddenly storms were commonplace.

No one thought they'd ever be able to live like that, or even have to, but a few years later they'd all gotten used to it. People mourned the casualties, buried their dead and tried their best to survive. Iria, too, had learned to cultivate the dying fields as best as she could, now only able to daydream about those nature's wonders she used to be so familiar with.

That is, until one particularly bad day, she made a certain decision.

If she'd been more sociable, maybe she could've blamed her friends and their influence. But, considering she was almost always seen alone, who would believe that? No, the decision was fully her own. A dumb and reckless one, certainly, but one that would change this country's fate forever.

That day, she'd been working hard, very ahrd. The farmer had sent her out to fetch some of the now scarce water for the few animals they had. But then she suddenly stumbled, spilling a lot of the precious water she'd gone a long way to gather. The dusty, cracked road greedily absorbed it as she stared down, tears gathering behind her eyes.

The only choice now was arriving with a half emptied bucket and getting scolded, or arriving way too late and getting scolded. Neither of those were very pleasant. Staring at the darkened soil, which was already drying out again, she suddenly remembered something: farther along this road, there was a forest. In this forest, there should be a river, if her childhood memories didn't betray her, at least.

No one would be around anyway, right? Thinking these things and fearing the farmer's anger, she decided to take this shorter detour. There were guards around the forest from time to time, but usually only when the nobles went hunting, and so their absence reassured her that there wasn't anyone else in the forest today.

The paths were much the same as she remembered them, the soft moss felt heavenly after traversing a rocky road on thin sandals for so long, the shade offered by the trees cool and refreshing. As she lost herself in those sensations, she heard it: running water. Lowering her guard completely, she excitedly ran towards it.

Indeed, the river was still there, though it had become more of a creek by now. She hurried to fill her bucket, taking the opportunity to run her hands through the cold water, washing off some of the dust that stuck to her palms each time she took that road to bring water.

However, when she turned around and got up, ready to go back to the farm, she felt herself collide with someone whose presence she hadn't felt. Letting out a squeak, she felt her heart racing. Was this a noble? Was this a guard? Would she be punished? Would her mother?