A Moment of Listless Piece
Life had been quiet for the family. Little word had come to them from their kin to the north, and business as usual kept them far too busy far too often.
Catrysa sat on her sofa, and peered out of the window into the grasslands of her home. Overhead, she could just make out the rhythmic slaps of course linen banners and pennants that flapped in the winds, clutching their poles that extended from the tops of the turrets and guard posts of the manor's stone wall. A sigh excaped her lips, and she looked back down at the flat board on her knees. The thick white vellum was still blank. She knew the sooner she got the pictures done, the sooner all her plans would be seen to, for the financers need their pretty little colored pictures, and yet each time she began to start on it, her mind would blank - filled with too many thoughts for it to settle on just one.
For the upteenth time, Catrysa slid the drawing pad away, up onto a shelf near by, and scooped up her journal. She flipped through its many pages, words and drawings penned long ago on its yellowing pages. She smiled as she ran a finger down the image of a tunic, the scralled name of her knight-trainer at the bottom of the page. She paused her musings, eyes trailing to her long, artfully kept nails, only to have her gaze drift up and away, to her viola and violin, each perched lovingly on shelves amid the various tomes she had collected over the years. Only the daily cleaning from the house's maids kept them from showing the dust that forms from lack of use. Catry's smile faded.
"You've been away from it all for too long, Catry," she chided herself softly, eyes returning to the still empty board. "But there are things that must be done first. If it works..." Her voice trailed off, her thoughts still too precious to be spoken aloud, even in the sanctity of her private rooms.
'At times like this, I wish I could capture all my memories before they flutter away on an arrant breeze.'Catrysa sat on her sofa, and peered out of the window into the grasslands of her home. Overhead, she could just make out the rhythmic slaps of course linen banners and pennants that flapped in the winds, clutching their poles that extended from the tops of the turrets and guard posts of the manor's stone wall. A sigh excaped her lips, and she looked back down at the flat board on her knees. The thick white vellum was still blank. She knew the sooner she got the pictures done, the sooner all her plans would be seen to, for the financers need their pretty little colored pictures, and yet each time she began to start on it, her mind would blank - filled with too many thoughts for it to settle on just one.
For the upteenth time, Catrysa slid the drawing pad away, up onto a shelf near by, and scooped up her journal. She flipped through its many pages, words and drawings penned long ago on its yellowing pages. She smiled as she ran a finger down the image of a tunic, the scralled name of her knight-trainer at the bottom of the page. She paused her musings, eyes trailing to her long, artfully kept nails, only to have her gaze drift up and away, to her viola and violin, each perched lovingly on shelves amid the various tomes she had collected over the years. Only the daily cleaning from the house's maids kept them from showing the dust that forms from lack of use. Catry's smile faded.
"You've been away from it all for too long, Catry," she chided herself softly, eyes returning to the still empty board. "But there are things that must be done first. If it works..." Her voice trailed off, her thoughts still too precious to be spoken aloud, even in the sanctity of her private rooms.
A few days later, Anastacia's messenger arrives in the
sun-covered grasslands of Trakand Manor. The letter is
past from hands to hands while the messenger is given
food and drink and a place to rest. Finally, into the
hands of the Lady the letter goes, to be read and
replied to.
Still sitting at her work desk, the desk she hasn't
been able to get up and out of for the past several
hours, Catrysa clears away some space to compose her
letter.
"Dear Baroness,
How wonderful it is to hear you are well and once more
amond the living! Truth be told, I could not have
been more worried and concerned for you, though my
current station leaves me little time to act on my
worries. I have seen your husband a few times, but
had not been able to approach him at about your
well-being. Truely, a letter penned by your hand is
far better than any word from another.
Yes, Keject Darum is family, as is Cairun. My heart is
made light, knowing they extend their arms and hearts
to you. Laughter is, indeed, the best of medicine.
I had not heard of Kelsar's knighting, myself, though
I must admit, I fear I am behind on my reports. I
would beg of you, when you have the strength and time,
to recount to me the happenings of said event. I had
the good fortune of knowing Kelsar, having met him as
squire to Sharjinka during my own stay in Drandmir."
Catry pauses here, reading over what she had written
as she redips her quill. Lower lip is brought between
her teeth, and held by a gentle pressure as she thinks
to herself.
From the open balcony doors, she could hear the sounds
of her husband and uncle's voices.
"If we use that unit and move it around that group of
trees it'll serve as a room block," Dalan's voice
stated.
"Good idea," answered Aran. "And then the Archers have
a clear line of sight to the Infantry."
"There's five left?"
"Yeah, but we've got a fresh battallion on the other
side of the river."
She couldn't help be chuckle at their war games, and
back to her letter she went, the tip of her quill
scratchy softly.
"My Lord and Husband bids you greetings as well, and
is likewise happy to hear of your recovery. As
always, our home is your husband's home, and you are
ever welcomed here. Do know that your recovery is in
my thoughts, and I hope it is a speedy one.
With love,
Catrysa Trakand"
Finishing her signed name with a bit of a flourish,
Catrysa is hard-pressed to keep from adding land and
title to the end of it. 'This isn't an official
document,' she reminds herself as she reaches for her
personal seal, rather than the kingdom one. Closing
the letter, she hands it off to her aide.
"Get this to Lightlock's messenger, and do let him
know that he is welcome to stay until he is fully
rested."
The aide nods and turns to head out, as Catrysa
reaches for the the top document on the pile she had
so recently pushed aside.
"To the Monarchy, A Comment About the State of Magic
and Magical Artifacts Within Our Grand Kingdom, A
Treatse," Catrysa half-mumbled the title to herself,
noticing. "Page one of... two-hundred..." She groans
and closes her eyes while a hand comes up to rub at
her temple. Arts and Sciences... Somedays, reading
through expense reports was more entertaining.