Le Morte D'Ardour: Chapter One

Prologue

CHAPTER ONE

Architecture functions on a very different scale from the inside-out than the outside-in. It is one thing to see a space laid out in halls and wings and roofs and towers from a distant hillside or from outside its walls, and it is quite another to walk those halls.

And walk them Princess Reserve did. It had begun when she was a child, defying the spirit of the rules set upon her while still following them to the letter. She did not leave the castle’s walls. She did not put herself at the mercy of the dangers of the world outside its walls. But that still left everything in the castle.

They’d tried to limit her walks about the castle with chaperones and watchful guards but the castle was big and she, if not as graceful or clever as her sisters, knew how to outpace and outwit her escorts.

The pain was still present through all this, of course, and some days she did as was expected of her and stayed in her room and rested and she was glad for it.

But restful days gave way to restless ones too.

It took her two years to learn the castle’s layout completely. Walking one way then another and another still, she could have walked it blindfolded, she told herself. So she did. She wrapped one of the fine scarves fetched from the deep recesses of her closet around her eyes and walked a full circuit around the castle's wings. The challenge of the act was increased tenfold through the additional element of making sure no guards or servants or god forbid, her family spotting her engaged in this and putting a stop to her explorations entirely. But she managed it, guiding her hand along a wall and going by the routes she knew would take her through unwatched corridors.

Then, she did it again, in half the time. Then half that. That time she had pushed herself a bit too far and stayed in bed all the next day wracked with aches and the stinging of the thorns and she knew that while she had managed the task, the consequences of the accomplishment were not pleasant, so she stopped herself there. She could have pushed herself past that point, perhaps, but to break oneself for the benefit of pride or others is to break oneself for no real reason. 

So for the two years after that, she challenged herself in less exerting but perhaps more interesting ways. On one route, where she resolved to step only on the black tiles on the checkerboard floor while blindfolded, she was discovered by Wisdom, who had taken to an uninhabited part of the castle to practice her arithmetic.

The indignities of the lectures she received from her two elder sisters and her father both are not ones to be dwelled upon, and Reserve would be confined to her room for three months after that. And, when her punishment ended and she was allowed to dwell the castle once more, she noticed a considerable increase in guards, standing at intersections, watching over nothing but wilting flower arrangements and dusty paintings and statuary.

The meaning was clear. One way or another Reserve would continue her explorations, but she would do it under watch. Very well! Reserve liked a challenge. Her blindfolded walks of the castle resumed, this time with the added possibility of a guard being there to steady if she swayed even a little. 

She wondered sometimes why she was allowed to resume her walks, even if under guard. Perhaps, she mused, her sisters had fought on her behalf. Perhaps her father did not truly care what she did, just that she was whole by the end of it. Perhaps even, she thought, they had realized that she had been doing this for four years and thought her capable, if only in that small way. The last one she was sure was untrue, but the notion was nice. 

Even under guard, her study of the castle continued. She memorized every nook and every alcove. She had traced the walls with her hands, come to know where the filigree ran and where the paint was scuffed. She had mastered the labyrinth, now she studied it as an artist did a model. She discovered where the servants went to talk and do things that weren’t talking, where the guards took impromptu breaks to smoke or pass around a bottle. She would take the rough sketch of the castle she kept in her mind, all straight lines and rough edges, and refine it into a painting she could call upon at any moment.

What else was there to do, really? She did not have the head for books nor the vitality for dance. But really, the real reason she did it was that she enjoyed it. She could take pride in something that was hers and that she had taken for herself. She could be the master of the world she was confined to.

She had engaged in this more refined exploration of the castle up until the day when she, twenty years of age, was crossing the eastern wing across its longest corridor and counting the exact number of paces it took her to cross it. She’d counted it before, of course, in short strides and long strides and tip-toe. She’d count it in skips but that was asking too much of her body, so that day she had decided to count it in half strides.

An added blessing was that she knew that this was, with all the preparations for tonight’s ball, an entirely empty part of the castle. So she could pick up her pace and move on to the next hall without anyone worrying if 'she should not ease up her speed, begging her highest pardons.'

It was then of course that she realized there in fact was someone else there, and they were leaning against the doorframe at the end of the hall.

"Reserve was almost annoyed before her eyes fell on their face and she saw the person for who they were. The fact that they were so big as to fill the doorframe entirely spoke multitudes as to Reserve's inattentiveness. She’d forgone the helmet, letting her black curls free, and the light from the window, which she knew to be two long paces long exactly, cast her warm brown skin with a pleasant glow that reminded Reserve a touch of the illustrations of knights-errant in the old books Wisdom had shoved in her face. However, unlike those drawings, where the figures were oddly fragile looking for their roles, this woman looked every inch the knight, strong and proud. Reserve decided to pick up her speed just a touch.

When she was close, the guard straightened out and snapped a quick, perfunctory bow, “Your Royal Highness,” and Reserve just waved her off, exasperated but smiling, “Cut the crap, Sam.”

Sam straightened out and scratched the side of her chin, “Sorry, force of habit.”

“It’s fine,” and Reserve closed the last of the distance to the hall’s end and sat down on a cushioned stool by the door. “What’s the matter?”

Something was clearly up, if the guard that Reserve could have, were it not for etiquette, called her closest friend, had been sent to fetch her. 

Sam cleared her throat and her eyes glazed over as she began to recite by rote, “I am to accompany Your Highness back to your room, where you are to remain until the celebrations conclude.”

Ah, it was already about time, then. Accurate as her measure of all the corridors was, she’d still managed to lose track of the hours in her wanderings. She sighed extravagantly and proffered the cane to Sam, “Very well. Take it, I can manage for now.”

Sam took the cane and tucked it under her arm and indicated that Reserve should lead the way.

The princess set off, cracking the knuckles in her hand, and asked, “So, how’ve you been? How’s guarding the other royals going?”

Sam began to recount the goings on of the last few weeks. She had been keeping an eye on the preparations, as countless new servants had been brought into the castle to help set things up for tonight's ball. Reserve listened to the woman's accounts of the regent's frantic management of the staff, of Wisdom's frantic memorization of all the latest sonnets to dazzle the incoming nobility with, and of how Grace was running herself ragged practicing dancing with a mannequin. It was a captivating story on its own, and all the better for Sam telling it. She had this way of putting a bit of charm into anything she said. It was part of why Reserve felt they'd become as close as they had.

Reserve and Sam had made their acquaintance after the former had knocked into the latter during one of her blindfolded walks through the western wing. As the newest guard, Sam had been unaware of the princess’ eccentric walking patterns and had insisted on accompanying her back to her room. The princess had reacted by seemingly agreeing and then ducking down a side corridor first chance she got. The game of cat and mouse that had ensued was the start to that odd friendship of theirs.

Most were unsure what exactly had led to them being friends. There was a world of difference between the bold yet fragile princess and the peasant-born and, understating her strength quite a bit, rather formidable guard.

The fact of that the matter was that the youngest sibling and the freshest of the guards had found a mutual understanding in their exasperation at being overlooked and underestimated. In each other, both of them found a fair judge of character who saw the other for their strengths and not the obvious weaknesses.

But this was something only the two of them knew. Doubtless Sam had only been sent to fetch her because in the past, Reserve had not put up as much of a fuss with her as she had with any other guard. 

And she didn't. Sam’s company was pleasant and she’d much rather share it for a while and return to her room than engage in some defiance of the regent alone. Plus, it’d be nice to make the walk in the company of someone who’d carry her cane and then hand it back without any fuss. Too many people were confused about that sort of thing.

"So, I gather you'll be attending the party, that's quite exciting, hm?" exclaimed Reserve as they walked under a row of glittering candelabras.

Sam snorted. “If only to guard the nobl-the other nobles, yeah. 'Fraid I won’t be partaking of any bacon-wrapped dates or sipping on champagne flutes or doing any dancing, don't think. Gotta keep my mind clear so I can keep an eye on all their pretty lil' heads," she said with a wink.

“That’s more than I ever get to do,” mused Reserve, “Oh...”

They had come to the one thing that, through her pains and through her twisting navigations of the castle’s corridors, still served to be the agony of her days.

“....Stairs," she said, her mouth a line. As much as she might have clenched her teeth through the worst of the pains the thorns brought on, the act of going up and down a twisting stairwell was at times a bit too much even for her. Perhaps that’s why her room was at the top of the castle’s highest tower. She would be kept, safe and away and confined, held back by a descent that promised agony.

An agony she had braved earlier that day, sure, but…

“Need some help?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Reserve smiled, and offered her arm, “Thanks.”

Sam slipped her strong arm through Reserve's and led the way into the stairwell.

The keystone of the archway they passed under was sculpted with the face of some long dead sage that had advocated for temerity. The stairs ascended up, up, up into the tower’s heights. Reserve took them one step at a time. She had counted them as well, but out of a sense of “know thy enemy” than any kind of curiosity.

She took a break at step twenty five, breathing in the dim light, feeling more than seeing Sam’s eyes on her. Wondering, probably, how much pain Reserve was in.

“A lot,” she said, but then drew herself up again, “Let’s continue.”

Two more such breaks later and they had finally made their way to the top, and Reserve, with more than a little relief, collapsed onto the giant bed.

Sam set down the cane beside her on the bed and leaned against the wall, hands behind her head, “All good?”

Reserve groaned, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. There are far too many steps for how good a view I get from here.”

Sam chuckled and looked out the window, at the sun that was bleeding off into the horizon, "That it is."

Reserve sat up and rubbed her side, “It’s good to see you again. It has been a while, huh?”

Sam smiled, “It has, but they’ve been keeping me busy."

Reserve chuckled, “That’s them. Meanwhile I,” She took her cane in her hands and inspected it, “have been running around in circles.” Even Sam looked a bit concern at that, “Not literally running, but near as I can. None of the guards have let me near the celebrations, for fear that,” and here she put on a haughty, bitter tone, “seeing the preparations for a gala I cannot attend would just break my heart, poor thing, as if that's the only thing that's bro-…” She stopped herself when Sam gave her a look. “What?”

“Oh nothing. Just…wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“About how you’re clearly in a bad mood." Reserve began to protest that but Sam was still talking, "Alright.” She stepped up, and set herself into a stance, arms up in front of her face, legs shoulders’ width apart, “Let’s go.”

“What are you doing?”

“We haven’t sparred in a while.”

She sighed, “You only ever humor me,” she said, but she still got off the bed and raised her cane.

They had started sparring after the conclusion of the game of cat and mouse that had begun their acquaintance. Sam had taken Reserve by the shoulder while the princess was secreted in a hiding spot, and in a fit of surprise, Reserve had smacked her cane into Sam’s ankle. Reserve had spent a good part of the next hour apologizing, whereas Sam had simply said that her swing was atrocious.

Reserve had challenged her to teach her to make it less so. Sam had accepted.

“Yes but humor is something you need right now. God knows you won’t get any tonight, if the regent and the maids think it’d be too much for, oh what’d they call it, your delicate physique?”

Oh that was far too much. Reserve swung the cane in an arc at Sam’s head. Had Sam not sidestepped it with a neat movement, it might have connected. But Reserve pushed on. Sam was grinning and that was annoying. So she swung again, this time going for a feint and darting in from the other side.

Sam managed to catch the cane as it was arcing towards her temple, and the interruption of the motion sent a shuddering pain through Reserve’s shoulders. She fell forward a bit, losing her balance. Sam’s smile fell there, and her grip on the cane’s head loosened. She looked uncharacteristically concerned at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry, I was trying to be gent-“ And then Reserve pulled back the cane and slammed it into the pit of Sam’s stomach. The young woman staggered back, surprised more than anything, and fell onto the floor. She looked, Reserve thought with no small bit of glee, completely dumbfounded. Then she cackled, “You tricked me.”

Reserve smiled, “Not entirely. It still hurt. But pain happens.” She extended a hand to Sam, “Getting one over on you? Not something I get to do that often.”

Sam took her hand and smiled, “I aim to please, your Highness,” and she got to her feet. And they were still holding each other’s hands, sharing in the mirth of the moment, when they heard someone swearing from the staircase.

“That’ll be Marie,” Reserve’s personal maid, and not too fond of the stairs herself. “Which means it’s time for my medicines and the ball will be starting soon, so you better get going.” She let go of Sam’s hand and clasped her cane.

Sam nodded, “That I should.” And she started to the door, before looking back, “It was nice to see you.” And she began to open the door before she looked back, “And one more thing. You’ve got a good swing with that thing but it’s far too slow. Seen snails go faster.”

She opened the door just as Reserve burst out laughing and retorted, “Oh, fuck off.”

Marie was on the other side, “Did her Highness say…oh, never mind.” And she bustled in, holding a tub of hot water, as Sam snapped a quick salute to Reserve, and went off, down the stairwell.

Marie had taken to her rumbling, pleasant stream-of-consciousness musings, “Strange girl, strange girl, oh, your Highness, your sisters pass on their best, oh, let me set this down here, for your feet, your Highness, oh did you hear about old Tabernathy, story is…”

And with those words Reserve resigned herself to yet another unimportant evening.

Rather foolishly, it turned out.