Member
op2024
EchoicChamber
Ariamis
Zweit
wintersoldier
Expendable
CitrusArms
Xaltwind
Carlyle
CyraniaTHWACK!
From the back of the grand castle of Astalia, on the knights’ target range, came the sturdy sound of an arrow hitting a target.
Princess Jinayah, fourth and final in the line of succession, lowered her recurve bow and smiled. That arrow had hit dead center. Despite today being the end of her life as she knew it, her aim was as true as ever. That, at least, was comforting. With the smooth motion of a practiced archer, she nocked another arrow and let fly. The sea breeze hit it and it arced to the left, landing just to the side of her first shot.
With a faint sigh, Jinayah lowered her weapon. She shut her eyes against the breeze and let it cool her. She’d been out since before the sun rose, and it was going to be a nice and warm day. Good weather for visitors.
Visitors…
It still made her stomach hurt to think of it.
Slowly, she pulled the thick leather archery gloves from her hands, and sat herself against the cobblestone wall. She unclasped her rich plum purple cloak and folded it nearly across her arm. Perhaps if she started into the woods now, she’d be long gone before the foreign princes arrived. Even though the thought was extremely tempting, she would not abandon her sisters. They all had to stay strong. Even if they were going to lose what they valued most.
Jinayah, for one, was going to miss these mornings. Nothing but the bow, the wind, and targets. Her father had been kind once, kind enough to have the crown tailors fashion her several sets of male clothes throughout her years. There had always been mutterings about her strange proclivities. When she had asked for a bow and to learn to use it, there had been complaints from various nobles. Luckily, her father heard none of them.
The first day she showed up at the pages’ practice area, confusion reigned. Jin had been seven then, just the same age as all the young boys hoping to make it to knighthood. However, there was one sympathizer – Knight Captain Theodore Arnold. He was the first person to treat Jin’s wish seriously, and not as a passing fancy. He trained her day and night, helping to catch her up to the boys who had sword and bow as soon as they could walk. When she stumbled in last after a footrace, there had been laughter all around. When she smacked her face with the bowstring, there had been jeers. When she lost a swordfight, she was told to go back to her knitting.
Nevertheless, she persisted.
Jin put everything into her training. While her sisters learned needlepoint and singing and other “feminine arts”, she practiced with the bow and blade. Soon, she could hit a target at 100 paces, dead center. Soon, she could win the footraces. Soon, no one could find a more graceful fighter.
Soon enough, they all took the princess quite seriously.
And now, all those years building up the respect and friendship of most of the young knights in the castle were all for naught. She would be leaving sooner or later, with her new husband. When the news reached the knights, they had thrown her a small party. She had cried, like a girl, to her own embarrassment.
At the end of it, Sir Theodore gave her a custom set of armor. It fit her like a glove, and left her wondering just how much he’d had to bribe the royal tailors for her measurements. That was safely hidden in a secret groove in the stones behind her wardrobe. Hopefully she would get use of it before she had to leave for good.
The sun was starting to peek over the trees now, and Jin knew her time was up. She headed back inside the palace slowly, taking several hidden routes that Sulhana had found ages ago. Still, her ladies in waiting were all… well, waiting for her when she entered her room. Also waiting was a steaming hot bath and the perfumed soaps she hated.
Still, she was dunked in the bath and scrubbed clean. They clucked and fussed over her calluses and muscles, implying that her future husband would not find her soft enough for the night. She wasn’t fully sure she cared.
All too soon, she was headed downstairs to her father and sisters, in a gown the dusky pink of a rose, and about as soft. She smelled faintly of roses too, and the scent wrinkled her nose.
She smoothed out her expression, and dipped into a low curtsy in front of her father and older sisters that had arrived.
“Good morning.”
From the back of the grand castle of Astalia, on the knights’ target range, came the sturdy sound of an arrow hitting a target.
Princess Jinayah, fourth and final in the line of succession, lowered her recurve bow and smiled. That arrow had hit dead center. Despite today being the end of her life as she knew it, her aim was as true as ever. That, at least, was comforting. With the smooth motion of a practiced archer, she nocked another arrow and let fly. The sea breeze hit it and it arced to the left, landing just to the side of her first shot.
With a faint sigh, Jinayah lowered her weapon. She shut her eyes against the breeze and let it cool her. She’d been out since before the sun rose, and it was going to be a nice and warm day. Good weather for visitors.
Visitors…
It still made her stomach hurt to think of it.
Slowly, she pulled the thick leather archery gloves from her hands, and sat herself against the cobblestone wall. She unclasped her rich plum purple cloak and folded it nearly across her arm. Perhaps if she started into the woods now, she’d be long gone before the foreign princes arrived. Even though the thought was extremely tempting, she would not abandon her sisters. They all had to stay strong. Even if they were going to lose what they valued most.
Jinayah, for one, was going to miss these mornings. Nothing but the bow, the wind, and targets. Her father had been kind once, kind enough to have the crown tailors fashion her several sets of male clothes throughout her years. There had always been mutterings about her strange proclivities. When she had asked for a bow and to learn to use it, there had been complaints from various nobles. Luckily, her father heard none of them.
The first day she showed up at the pages’ practice area, confusion reigned. Jin had been seven then, just the same age as all the young boys hoping to make it to knighthood. However, there was one sympathizer – Knight Captain Theodore Arnold. He was the first person to treat Jin’s wish seriously, and not as a passing fancy. He trained her day and night, helping to catch her up to the boys who had sword and bow as soon as they could walk. When she stumbled in last after a footrace, there had been laughter all around. When she smacked her face with the bowstring, there had been jeers. When she lost a swordfight, she was told to go back to her knitting.
Nevertheless, she persisted.
Jin put everything into her training. While her sisters learned needlepoint and singing and other “feminine arts”, she practiced with the bow and blade. Soon, she could hit a target at 100 paces, dead center. Soon, she could win the footraces. Soon, no one could find a more graceful fighter.
Soon enough, they all took the princess quite seriously.
And now, all those years building up the respect and friendship of most of the young knights in the castle were all for naught. She would be leaving sooner or later, with her new husband. When the news reached the knights, they had thrown her a small party. She had cried, like a girl, to her own embarrassment.
At the end of it, Sir Theodore gave her a custom set of armor. It fit her like a glove, and left her wondering just how much he’d had to bribe the royal tailors for her measurements. That was safely hidden in a secret groove in the stones behind her wardrobe. Hopefully she would get use of it before she had to leave for good.
The sun was starting to peek over the trees now, and Jin knew her time was up. She headed back inside the palace slowly, taking several hidden routes that Sulhana had found ages ago. Still, her ladies in waiting were all… well, waiting for her when she entered her room. Also waiting was a steaming hot bath and the perfumed soaps she hated.
Still, she was dunked in the bath and scrubbed clean. They clucked and fussed over her calluses and muscles, implying that her future husband would not find her soft enough for the night. She wasn’t fully sure she cared.
All too soon, she was headed downstairs to her father and sisters, in a gown the dusky pink of a rose, and about as soft. She smelled faintly of roses too, and the scent wrinkled her nose.
She smoothed out her expression, and dipped into a low curtsy in front of her father and older sisters that had arrived.
“Good morning.”
