Otherworldly - A Shadowed Awakening

Peak of Autumn, Week 5, Day 1

There was a single word for traveling by carriage through a densely packed forest surrounded by knights. Boring. And uncomfortable. So actually, there were two words to describe the start of my journey west. I’d spent only four hours in the carriage before I came to that conclusion. It wasn’t uncomfortable in the way an IV Pod was —which was tight, prickly, and generally unpleasant in elsewhere. Rather, it was too silent. There was some form of enchantment that both stabilized the movement and silenced the outside —I could only hear if someone were speaking directly into the window pane. Even then, it sounded filtered as if through a cloth —noticeably not as if it was through the glass. It was also too bright. No matter how tightly I closed the curtains, the only true darkness was of my own creation.

And my legs felt stiff from sitting for so long, so I was in a poor mood all around. Perhaps I was whining more than I usually would, were I able to practice my Skills. Maybe it’s all the things together, and the fact that I wasn’t sure that me being unable to hear the outside meant the outside was likewise unable to hear me. And though I knew I could animate without words, I still had to command out loud. A distinct limitation of the Skill.

I wanted to ask Sir Rellar or Dame Arella, the tall, bulky woman from the training yard the day before, how the enchantment worked but there was that shaking —the anxiety that was becoming familiar in this new world.

What shouldn’t I know? What shouldn’t I ask? Eunora was too young, and now I’m here, and I know so little. And suddenly, that matters.

I had been alone so long, with limited exposure to the Dawns, that now my social skills felt twisted. I’d sooner dart from a conversation than delve into one. I wasn’t always like this.

I slid open the violet curtains and peered outside at the dense forest we had spent all morning in.

How much is Eunora and how much is me —but broken?

Shaking my head, I turned toward where I had sat Haze and Noir. The panda, shimmering in the fresh light, was placed across from me on the opposite bench. Truly it was all one bench, the seat making a U, with an opening to the right where the carriage door was. There were large ornate windows that could slide open on both sides of the carriage and two small windows on the front and back. The back window was sealed shut —but still had a small curtain that I closed almost as soon as entering. It overlooked the five boxes that we were bringing with us to Fellan. The front window was split into two panes so I could slide it open and speak to the two knights driving the carriage. From the sides, the ornate windows did not open. It felt like a prison cell. Or a mental ward. Noir was placed next to me, tucked into the corner of the carriage, hidden like a treasure.

I leaned back from the window and opened the side of the bench, sifting through the books that had been placed in the compartment. Whoever chose them didn’t know what they were packing them for, if the incongruous topics were any indication.

The Art of Oberon’s Sacrifice by Silica Priya, Maeve: A Field Guide by Cellum Biome, Basic Arithmetic II by Roger Killian et al., and The Beloved Divines by Olivia Munker. Some were children’s stories of the Divines. Some were basic educational materials —those made sense. Eunora was eight. But the field guide was written like a textbook for adventurers, and Oberon's sacrifice included graphics that seemed too gruesome for a child. There were even philosophical texts and war strategies. A few biographies, a history of the Dawns, a manual on how to survive in the wilderness. But one genre was missing. Fiction. There was plenty to learn and muddle through, but there was nothing meant for enjoyment. And somehow, that tied the books together.

They were all another chain meant to control me, to shape me into someone worthwhile. Someone the Dawns found worthy. I slammed the compartment shut for the umpteenth time. Every time I looked at it, I just got more irritated.

I went back to staring out the window, watching the knights circle the carriage in the same formation as when we left. Sir Rellar lead the way with two knights flanking him. The two squires took the sides of the carriage, a knight sat with the driver of the carriage, two knights flanked the carriage, and one knight brought up the rear with two knights traveling beyond the forest line on either side of the road —likely scouting. There was a book on knight formations in the compartment, which would have told me the purpose of this one specifically, but I figured it was pretty obvious to provide coverage from all angles. Maybe I would crack the book open if all the knights lined up and tried to tip the carriage. I’m sure it’d be useful then, if only as a blunt-force object.

As is, I had no interest in the workings of the knights —not in that way. In fact, I had wanted to try my hand at chatting with one of them, but the anxiety that welled within Eunora had caused me to swallow anything more than a brief greeting this morning. Perhaps when we broke up for lunch.

My eyes landed on one of the younger knights —the blonde one who looked barely older than Raphael. He was positioned just outside the carriage door, his ponytail bobbing up and down as his horse strode forward.

His name is Arlen. He introduced himself with a stutter and a too-stiff bow. I had been worried he would fall to his knees and do something truly embarrassing. Well, I say that, but even now, I can’t help but stare at the knights in wonder. They are unlike the other vassals of the Dawn, who wore strictly polite smiles and faux care. All the knights seemed… nice. They seemed respectful and gentle in a way many warriors weren’t. They do, if I’m honest, seem a bit insane. I’ve watched one of them stand on his horse and fire an arrow into the woods to catch a roaming boar. Another was hooting like an owl and lured a larger predatory bird into the clearing –where he promptly shot it down. And that was within the first hour when Sir Rellar had been in a deep conversation with Dame Arella, who seemed to be his second on this journey.

Occasionally, if I let my eyes linger on a single knight, I would catch them looking right back at me –their Perception high by the necessity of their job. [Danger Sense] is not an uncommon Skill for these men and women, I assume. That didn’t happen with the two squires. Arlen would twitch after a few minutes, but he wouldn’t flick his eyes at me like a predator. The other squire with the red hair had introduced himself as Klein. He had to be younger than Arlen –Klein’s voice would occasionally break, making him seem too young to be a squire. Then again, I don’t actually know the ages of squires. And Klein carried himself with surety despite his voice.

I shuffled to the other side of the carriage and focused on the red-headed squire. His face was contorted into a scowl, much like when I had spied him at the training grounds. His face had been blank when he introduced himself, but now he was more open. Every time his horse took a step, he winced, and his scowl deepened. I couldn’t help but feel for him. Our struggles were, of course, different in nature. And, should anyone attempt to compare them, his were arguably more trying in this instance. But still. This journey was trying for all of us. It was boring and uncomfortable.

And, surprisingly, lonely.

I had spent months beside myself, barely able to leave my bed or eat, and this week had been a series of uncomfortable social experiences, but now I felt the ache of solitude. I wanted it to end. I wanted to reach out and speak despite the anxiety that welled within me. I was tired of being alone.

I had said I was tired of being tired, and this could be a step toward overcoming it. To moving on. To growing. Do I have to be so careful? Do I have to hide every Skill?

The answer, of course, was no. I didn’t have to do any of it. No one had explicitly told me ‘Don’t share your [Rare] [Class]’ or ‘You will be in danger if you talk about your affinity.’ No one had to tell me those things. They were simply obvious. Eunora didn’t have any people of her own –and though the knights of the Dusk Knighthood seemed friendly, they were vassals of the Dawns, not Eunora. They respected me because of my birth, not because I was worth respecting. That didn’t make them bad people, nor were the servants at the main estate. It just made it different. And dangerous. If I shared too much too soon, I could find myself whisked away and held closer to the Dawns than I would like. As is, it was remarkable they were giving me this much space when they thought I had achieved a level in an [Uncommon] [Class].

I snorted at the memory of the Count gesturing to the balls of yarn, A high Dexterity Class? If only he knew.

A light knock on the front window brought me out of my contemplation, the glass sliding open shortly after. I slid my hand to Noir.

“We’re breaking for lunch, my Lady. Now is the time to stretch your legs and get your bearings.”

I swallowed, pausing only momentarily before seizing my chance and smiling at the knight, “Great, I was getting bored.”

The man’s lips tightened, and I was unsure of what I’d said wrong until he let out a huff of a breath that was a borderline laugh, “I’m sure. Not much to see in these forests. Even I was having a bit of a go staying focused on the forest’s edge.”

Now or never, Nora. Do it! My mouth went dry, but I swallowed the anxiety and spoke.

“What was your name again?”

The knight paused and nodded, “I’m George, George Limrick.”

I took a deep breath, my death grip on Noir betraying the difficulty I was having with this conversation.

“All right, Sir Limrick, when will we be stopping?”

He blinked, then gave a smile. His looked easier than mine —my own smile must have looked uncomfortable. I had the urge to squash it down and scowl instead.

This is your chance to connect, Nora. You’ve been alone too long. Smile, even if all you want to do is sulk. I reminded myself of the harsh reality I was in, how I needed protection —good protection. And I wanted the knights of the Dusk to like me, even if that was a childish thought. I wanted it so desperately, and Eunora wanted it too. It felt right.

“Just a few minutes, the scout found a nice clearing ahead.”

I nodded, bringing Noir closer to me, and looked back to where Arlen, the blonde squire, was riding next to the carriage. Sir Limrick closed the window and I slumped.

Just a regular conversation felt intimidating. It was a mix of Eunora and the cold realization that a child’s knowledge wasn’t enough. But, I thought to myself, what is the use of living in fear? Swallow it. Persevere. That is all I can do. One day, I will know the right things to do, the right things to say. One day I will be back to how I was. I’m just rusty.

As I tore my eyes away from the squire, I looked to Noir, bringing him to my face. I felt my eyes soften.

“Noir, it’s you and me.” My eyes darted to the knit panda lying lifeless across the bench and back to Noir, “And Haze. Eventually.”