Emmeline watch the world pass her by through the window of her attic room above the family shop. Through the floor she could hear customers coming in and out, the hum of conversation. If she focused she could pick out the ddp baritone of her brothers voice, and the contrasting lightness of his new wife's. The bright sky seemed to mock her, the fluffy white clouds flying free across it’s face, no tethers, no obligations.
It could be her freedom too.
She doesn’t deserve it.
With a sigh she turned away from the window, rubbing her eyes to try get them to adjust from the brightness outside to the dark gloom inside. The room itself was sparse, no more than a bed, a chest of drawers, the chair Emmeline was sitting in, and a wardrobe. Hanging from a row of pegs next to the closed door was a cloak of forest green bordered in embroidered wildflowers, a sword, and an empty pack. The only other indication someone lived in the room was a letter on the dresser, weighed down by an empty ink pot.
Stretching as she stood she crossed to the dresser and picked up the letter. It was good parchment, and the script was ride but without flourish. Written by someone who has neither the time nor patience for working on their penmanship. If she smelt it, like she did the first time, it would smell of swordpolish, leather, and faint traces of jasmine. It wasn’t a letter she had ever expected, and authored by someone who would have been better to forget she existed. Ever since she hung up her armour a year ago she may as well have disappeared from history. That Thelana Goldensword had not just remembered, but kept tabs on, her old protégé was both heartwarming and concerning in equal measure.
Her eyes skipped over the polite bits of the letter. The commiserations on her mother’s passing. The congratulations on her brothers wedding. They came to rest instead on the last paragraph, the source of turmoil and unrest inside her for the last week.
You may have given up on yourself but I never did. Your heart has ever been true for a Knight, and hanging up your armour was the most selfish thing I’ve ever known you to do. Nonetheless, I have kept tabs Emmeline. You wither away in your room above that shop. There is nothing remaining for you in Luinne, and the moment you enlisted you were no more a Goode like your family, you could never go back to a small life again. I saw that in you, that is why I chose you as my novice. I have put your name against a job, as a freelance swordwoman, and you are required to export a caravan to Viscerium. The map to the meeting point is on the back on this parchment.
Are you ready to prove yourself?”
Like she had done every time she read it she resisted the urge to crumple the letter and throw it into the fire downstairs. She wanted to forget it, but to what avail. Her mentor was right. The Knights weren’t the ideal she had thought, hoped, and dreamed they’d be. But she couldn’t stay here in Luinne, certainly not in the small residence above the shop where her brother was trying to start his family. And she had no skills past being a swordsman.
So that left her with no choice but to take on this job. Do the job, get paid, then with some coin of her own she could choose a direction from there. Protecting a caravan should be easy money too really. She checked the map on the back – to make it in time she’d have to put in some good travel distance over the next two day, but she could do it. Especially traveling alone, setting her own pace. The weather was pretty good this time of year too, so a camp wouldn’t need to be much.
A new start. Something to do to chase away the ghosts of a past that haunt her. To help people that the Knights would turn away because their requests were too small, or they couldn’t afford the Knights charge. To not be cursed at simply for the ensignia she bore when travelling the outskirts of the kingdom. To be free, like the clouds. And if nothing else, freedom to be away from Luinne, and a family she doesn’t fit into, a community that is wary of an ex-knight. She straightedge her navy tunic and black leggings, pulling on her sturdiest boots, and began putting supplies into her pack. Spare clothes, a few toiletries. That cursed letter. The few coins she had were distributed about her person in her own method – you could never be too careful about pickpockets – and finally her cloak went about her shoulders. She fingered the embroidery, the last gift she got from her mother before the illness set in. She gathered her sword and belt, opened the door ready to make her way down the narrow stairs to the shop, and nearly bowled over her brother.
“You’re going to take that job then? Good.” He nodded, as if it had never been in doubt that she would. “You’ll need this,” he continued holding out a bundle. She took it to the bed and opened it, revealing travel rations, a new blanket, and a few other practical things.
“Thank you Felmar,” she replied, turning to her brother. They had the same slight build, although where Emmilene had a wiry firmness to it from her Knight training, Felmar had the scrawny look of someone used to penmanship and accounting. His shaggy hair was the same ebony as her currently braided lengths, and the hazel eyes peering out met her own hazel ones. Twins they were in birth and appearance, but personality wise Felmar had been the academic and bookworm destined to take over the shop, whilst Emmeline had been the mischief maker always coming home covered in dirt with ripped clothes and scraped knees, and stories of adventure for her twin.
“I don’t know what happened Emmy, and I know you won’t say. I do know though that it haunts you, its replaced the sense of wonder that used to be in your eyes. Mum was only even am excuse to run from it. But whatever it is, don’t let it hold you back. You have a good heart, and good insincts. And remember that no matter wherever you go and whatever you do, you will always have people that love you.” Felmar embraced his sister, the kind of hug that says goodbye forever without saying those damning words aloud.
She hugged him back. “You do right by that wife. Make sure that when I come home I have so many nieces and nephews I won’t know what to do with myself ok?” She shot back, breaking the embrace. She packed the thing s Felmar had brought her and followed him down the stairs. Pack on her back, and sword belted on she gave him, and her sister in law, a farewell hug and set out. Away from the shop, away from Luinne.
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