Friday, 16 October 2015

If Adventure Comes Your Way - Fragment One

Here we are, at the first part of the next story. I hope you're all excited! (I am.)

At the urging of both Skilf, Miss Freespirit and my sister Alice (one of the few people who get to be informed of some of my ideas for these stories) I have decided to call these instalment thingys 'Fragments'. So this is 'Fragment One'.

Since I'm rather looking forward to all your reactions I'd best let you get on with the story! :D


If Adventure comes your way it may be advisable to think before you dive right in. 

In my experience not thinking can lead to many unforeseen circumstances. But on the other hand, if you think you may just turn down the offer and in doing so bring doom upon all mankind. But I’m not really the one to tell you all these things, you only need to look at my experiences as an adventurer to see just how many problems – foreseen and not – I came across. 

I am not the most successful adventurer.

It is lucky for me that I had a good companion by my side, or everything might have collapsed in ruins around me on several different occasions.

But see, it is no use simply talking about it. You’d understand much better if you knew. So I will now do my best to retell the story, from beginning to end (Well, mostly. If I get too weary my travelling companion will contribute her part). 

I had lived a fairly dull and ordinary life for fourteen years. Sure, I wanted all the glamour and excitement of adventure, but Adventure doesn’t come to everyone. Many people go off in search of adventure, but, alas, I was in no position to do so. In my case, Adventure found me through a certain character I met one day, and a very interesting day it turned out to be...


“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the manor yet, milady?” Governess Kathryn asked.

I spared her a short glance. “I am sure,” I replied, returning my eager gaze to the market stalls around us.

“Try this scarf, Miss,” one merchant called up to me, holding a bright blue fabric in the air. “It would go perfect with your mousy brown hair.”

My silver-haired governess sighed softly. I knew well that she did not find the markets as interesting as I did. And, I confess, I myself would have found them doubly interesting if I could be walking among the crowd rather than high above them on my docile, riding mare. Also, I would have preferred if I could have worn a more casual gown rather than the primp, tight dress I had been stuffed into earlier that morning.


Perhaps an introduction would go well at this stage. I am Lady Louise De Corlette, fifteen year old daughter of Lady Orchid and Lord Carson De Corlette. The name De Corlette is one of great honour and renown in these parts, as my father is holder of many lands and is one of the most powerful nobles in all Feâ Sirih. I am youngest of the De Corlette children and the only one still remaining with our parents – my four older brothers left a few years ago to earn fame in other lands and I was stuck in Feâ Sirih having to suffer Governess Kathryn alone.


The crowd parted around our two horses as we walked them slowly though the square. I leant down in my saddle to examine the trinkets and other items laid out for sale. A sudden and unexpected explosion of noise startled me into an upright position and I looked around for the reason. Shouts and yells reached us from the distant edge of the market square, I craned my neck in an attempt to see the purpose.

Governess Kathryn huffed as the noise began to get closer. “We’ll go back to the manor now, milady,” she said firmly.

I wrinkled my nose, earning a disapproving look from Kathryn. “Yes Governess Kathryn,” I murmured, albeit a little reluctantly.

We moved off through the mass of people and out the other side of town, trotting along the Northern Road towards my family’s manor.

The warm sun smiled down on us, sparkling off the snow on the distant mountain range to the North. The spring flowers were just beginning to appear and the roadside was a riot of colour.

The drawbridge guards saluted and stepped aside as we rode through the gates and into the large courtyard beyond.

As soon as I dismounted half a dozen servants hurried out of the stables, ready to take my horse. I moaned inwardly (doing such a thing outwardly in the presence of Governess Kathryn is close enough to suicide as to be barely distinguishable) and handed them the reins, even though I’d be much happier to do it myself. My Governess then took my arm and led me from the open courtyard, through the manor and into my rooms.

I resisted the strong desire to flop onto my four-poster bed, instead lowering myself slowly to perch on the edge.

Lady Kathryn nodded approvingly and walked over to my chest of drawers. To my deepest dismay she drew out my embroidery and passed it to me, procuring her own needlework from nowhere.

After one dreadful stitch I’d already jabbed the needle into my finger and I frowned at the small bead of blood oozing to the surface.

My attention was diverted by the loud clatter of horse’s hooves out in the courtyard, I rose and peered out the window curiously. I raised my eyebrows in surprise; six members of the Guard were dismounting quickly, one of them gripping a seventh, and smaller, person by the arm.

“What does this mean?” I mused aloud.

Governess Kathryn – who had joined me by the window – sniffed delicately. “Another of those troublemakers no doubt. Probably the one that was making a riot in the markets,” she deduced.

I nodded. “Probably,” I agreed. “I’m going to go see.” And before she could speak a word to stop me, I crossed the room and exited, running down the long stairway to the meeting hall below, my dark burgundy skirt swishing on the stairs behind me.

I slowed when I approached the door to the hall, opening it quietly and slipping through.

My father – Lord De Corlette – paid me no heed, but continued in his low discourse with two soldiers. After a moment he nodded, waving a hand toward the large door at the far end of the hall. “Bring in the captive,” he commanded.

The heavy wooden door swung open and four soldiers marched in, the foremost two holding the arms of the prisoner.

It was a girl.

I figured she couldn’t have been older than myself, yet she walked calmly between her guards, her gaze roving the room, as if she was captor rather than captive. Her eyes met mine and a sudden dazzling grin lit her face.

The corners of my mouth twitched and I almost smiled in return before I realised what I was doing.

My father stepped towards the girl, fingering his chin thoughtfully. She looked at him, a lopsided half-smile pulling her lips.

“What are you doing here?” Lord De Corlette asked.

The girl raised a dark eyebrow. “It es nice to meet you too, Sirrah,” she said in reply, her archaic country accent sounding foreign in our well-bred halls. (Pray do excuse the unorthodox spelling I must use to impart to you the state of her accent.)

“I do not like repeating myself: What are you doing here?

The prisoner sighed. “I wouldn’t a come eef your soldiers hadn’t been so kind as to envite me along,” she pointed out.

A smile tried to squeeze onto my face but, remembering just in time, I banished it from appearing, hiding it behind my well-practiced ladylike mask.

My father clenched his hands into fists – never a good sign, I knew. “Why were you involving yourself in law breaking activities in the town?”

“Well,” she considered slowly. “I wouldn’t a been law breakin’ if there’d been no laws ter break. So thet can also be attreebuted to you.”

“Who are you and why are you in this town?” Lord De Corlette barked sharply.

“I em Maree Freespirit,” she pulled free of the soldiers with a sudden twist. Before they could grab her again she knelt, bowing her head deeply. “I shall forever be eendebted for the kindness you have a shown me.” She rose and the soldiers grabbed her hastily. “As t’your second question, you answered that yourself a fore you even were askin’ it. Apparently I em ‘involving myself in law breaking activities’.” This she said in a near perfect imitation of my father’s voice.

Lord De Corlette was beginning to turn red but Maree hadn’t finished. “Oreeginally I came here to sell an old friend into slavery,” she added.

I barely suppressed a gasp of horror, what kind of person was this girl? The girl in question didn’t even seem to notice that she’d said anything startling whatsoever. She just stood there, staring, cross-eyed, at a curl of dark hair that hung in her eyes.

“You’re mad,” my father spat.


***

1. Maree brought her eyes back into focus and released a laugh that left me in no doubt that my father was correct. 

2. “Take her out,” he ordered, turning to the soldiers. “For her own good we’d best lock her up. Perhaps one day she will regain her mind.”

3. Maree switched her stare from her hair to Lord De Corlette, a horrified expression on her face. “What have I eever done to make you think such a thing?!”


***

There it is. Did you like it? What option is your favourite? I hope it was worth waiting for. 
So, now you know what 'Miss' Freespirit's name is, Maree may not be much to wait for but I had (and still have) my reasons. I hope her accent isn't too bothering or hard to read (if it is...just you wait, it'll get worse, trust me), I just felt she needed something like that (I only gave her the accent yesterday, which is why none of her 'quotes' have accents...oh well, as Maree would say, eet es no matter). If anyone wants to know how to pronounce anything, just ask and I'll attempt to tell you. :D I can hardly wait for your comments!

Allons-y! (Sorry everyone, I've just recently watched some Doctor Who for the first time and I'm kinda...well, I liked it. Heaps. I'll probably go back to Fare Thee Well soon enough, but I just felt like Allons-y today.)


12 comments:

  1. I really like the writing 'voice' of your story, lets say I want option 3.

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    1. Thanks Clare, glad you like it! :)

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  2. I am enjoying the story so far and can understand Maree Freespirit's accent. Kind-of sounds like a rural Irish accent. I vote for option 1.

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    1. Yeah, I like Irish accents... :D Thanks for commenting.

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  3. This is interesting... I'd be sorry if it wasn't! And the accent is easy to understand next to Twila Thorp's, it was hard.
    I like option 3, or maybe 1... no, 3!

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    1. Twila Thorpe's accent wasn't hard to understand! I am deeply, deeply hurt! Okay...maybe it was a little over done, but who cares? :D

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  4. Nice! I really like the first-person view of the story so far :D...

    I think I'll vote for option three :)

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    1. Yeah, I wasn't sure how the 1st person would go with this kind of thing, but I think it worked out really well. :)

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  5. Firstly - I do like it
    Secondly - Your favourite option is three
    Thirdly - It may be worth waiting for
    Fourthly - I can cope with her accent
    Fifthly - I am still waiting for you to win a game of cluedo
    Sixthly - You should do a long fragment next time
    Seventhly - You should be careful...

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  6. I love it! You really make me feel as if I'm right there watching it all happen!
    ~Anna
    The3musketeerssite.wordpress.com

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    1. That's great Anna, thanks for commenting! Just out of curiosity, how did you get to my blog? I love new commenters so please return later in the week for Fragment 2! :D

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