Aster in the Fields of Tryssen

Aotsuki

The epic tale of the adventures of Rianna etc., Princess of the House of Tryssen, betrothed to the Prince of Fallowshaith.

---

-2-

Now, for a bit of history, interjected by Ratticci the King’s Scribe of Fallowshaith Castle, who has advised me on many events in this story, and whom without I would be left in the mud while the carraige of tales rumbled on. The following is, yes, written by Ratticci, and I apologize for his handwriting.

...The Most Venerable House of Marten had taken the Fallowshaith throne for five generations before the start of young Princess Ria’s tale, and with it came the Kings Lanciston, father of Dimeum, father of Teruben, father of Sartorius, father of Orthel, and the Queens Vivean, who wed Lanciston, Selena, who wed Dimeum, Sela, who wed Teruben, Tibia, who wed Sartorius, and Mira, who wed Orthel, who then held the throne at the time of this tale. None of the four kings and queens previous to Orthel and Mira matter in this story, and unfortunately I have neither the time nor patience to detail every bit of their bothersome lives. Lanciston was the only one who ever actually did anything, which was to bring the Most Venerable House of Marten to the throne of Fallowshaith. And that was, yes, IT. The rest of them simply made sure that the Fallowshaith throne was kept within the family.

King Orthel was wise, kind, just, and all those other stereotypes attributed to good kings. However, he was also a very irritable person, and hated, above all, stupidity. Which means he hated Banholf Yonde de Hayes’s father, Duke Ranolf Reis de Hayes, with a passion. He was embarrassed to have the man as his subordinate and would often use Banholf as a relay between him and his father, although Ranolf Reis de Hayes was not at all stupid, probably, although there is much text evidence against this. He didn’t speak very much, and when he did, it was usually of things of no consequence. That did not mean he was weak-minded or mentally challenged, as you may see later on in Her Highness’s tale, although he still came damn near close to being classified by modern historians as mentally disturbed, to euphemize, compared to other significant strange persons of the time.

Now that we have established that near-useless bit of information, the very, very brief history of the Tryssen Royal Family.

There is not much to say here. The Tryssen Royal Family has reigned since a long, long time ago, and further back than that, there was only one notable event since the founding of Tryssen by King Laudanum, who died, and established the Tryssen Royal Family, whose names are too long-winded and whose family tree is too large to even attempt to fit in six volumes, as the kings had a penchant for remarrying at least four times in their lifetime.

The only notable event is either that of the Wincaster incident, in which a man named Korthus was banished from the kingdom, or the crowning of the first king, His Majesty Laudanum of Tryssen.

Relations between Tryssen and Fallowshaith were not then tense, but of a sort of wary friendship. At least, was, before the entire royal family of Tryssen was killed, defeating the purpose of my next statement. They both proposed the idea of a unification between the countries by way of the bond of marriage between the Prince of Fallowshaith and the Princess of Tryssen, because of the small but undoubtedly ferocious Mnemosyne Organization, who, by the way, had several countries’ militaries under their control. Nothing has happened since.

And now, onto the real story.

--

Siying hummed a catchy tune as she inspected the small tree, plucking off several yellow leaves and a few dead flowers.

“The harp sang, the lute sang ‘Blood is red…’”

“Erm, Lady Siying…”

She stopped mid-pluck and glared caustically at the boy. “What, do my songs scare you? And don’t call me Lady. Call me Siying-shen shang.”

Cail quivered under her glare. “Um, they scare me only a little bit, truthfully, and isn’t calling you Siying-the-holy-on-high kinda… well. But aren’t I supposed to be helping around here? I really have to get back to the stables…”

“The butcher took his knife and chopped off the head… What are you waiting around for, then, you lazy scum? Go, go!”

She made a shooing motion with her hand, not looking at him. Cail awkwardly nodded, then sprinted out of the garden like a frightened rabbit. Siying raised an eyebrow and continued humming.

“The head rolled off and never was seen, but the grass in the field is now red, not green…” She paused for a second. “Are you mocking me?” she asked the bush.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, stupid green ball of leaves.”

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s what I called you.”

“No, don’t you dare talk to me like that, I’ve got shears.” She menacingly picked up her pair of gardening shears from the ground and pointed it at the bush.

“Ah, Siying?”

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Cook sighed. “Marizanna Helen wants you to help her with something, for the Princess, she said. Flowers, perhaps?” She shrugged, tapping the bowl of a ladle on her palm impatiently.

Siying gasped, offended. “She wants me to cut my flowers for that? It is an UNWORTHY CAUSE, I tell you! They’re much better off here than sitting in a vase of polluted water honoring some foreign princess that hasn’t come of age yet!”

Cook coughed. “Let me remind you, Siying, that you are about three years past ‘coming of age’, and I am as well. Be glad I became a cook’s apprentice when we came here. Just choose some lesser specimens if she wants you to arrange flowers. And keep the pollution thing shhhhh, we’re not supposed to have discovered it yet. I know us people from Shaanxi are about a hundred years more advanced than these people, but still.”

Siying, nodded, casting a fearful glance at her garden, then hurriedly left along with Cook.

--

After Ria had woken up, she proceeded to go to her room and change, finding that she had slept through the night. She felt neither relaxed nor refreshed; her back hurt from her hunched-over position, and the clothes she had on previously were stiff and odd-smelling from the rain and smoke. Changing, she fell back onto the bed in her room, grumbling internally about everything in general, and fell asleep again, on top of the covers.

--

Banholf frowned slightly, stepped back with one eye closed, and squinted. “I’d say it looks a little bit off with the dominant purples, but other than that, it’s… erm, decent.” He coughed.

Tobias shrugged, something the public would have despised him for doing, as shrugging was a rude, impertinent gesture.

“I kind of like the purple. Is there a point to this painting?”

Before Banholf could answer, there was a screech and the sound of something extremely expensive shattering into a million small pieces. The black-haired man sighed, then crossly bellowed at the top of his lungs at the person in the hallway.

“FOR THE SAKE OF SANITY, SPARRATHIA, KEEP IT DOWN! AND YOU’D BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN THAT VASE, THERE IS A SIGNIFICANT AMOUNT OF MONEY INVESTED IN IT! WHY IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS STABLE ARE YOU UP HERE ANYWAY?!”

Sparrathia Crinnen, a lady-in-waiting of Queen Mira, apologized several hundred times within the next ten seconds, gathered her gown and “oh my”ed at the shattered vase. “Don’t just stand there and ‘oh my’, woman, you’re going to be paying this off somehow! I swear you’ve accumulated a debt of several millions to my family within this past month alone.” Banholf swore several times, then sent Sparrathia for a dustpan, a large bag and a broom.

“My god, that woman is clumsy,” he moaned, covering his face with his hand. “What is it with her and wrecking my possessions? Is she out to destroy everything I own?”

Tobias rolled his eyes. “All that fuss over a simple vase, I’ve known women who can ruin entire banquets with a flick of her finger.” “Are you talking about Cook?” “No, she’s not really that horrible, despite the stories. Or, she hasn’t tried to kill me, specifically, yet. I’m talking about the one before her. Deanna, I think. She died of choking on her own food, I believe it was an omelette with a slice of tomato much too large to fit down her throat.” He shrugged. “Malicious pretenses, my foot. She was evil down to the core.”

Banholf snorted. “You’re wrong about Cook. She has tried to kill you, as the entire household has. But you’re just a resilient little bugger, eh?”

Tobias glared intensely at Banholf, who coughed and looked away. Feeling irritated by the glare, he looked back at Tobias, glaring with the same intensity. “What, I was only joking! The only one who nearly killed you on purpose was the Mnemosyne Organization, and they were fended off by your guards.

Sparrathia returned with the broom and dustpan, still apologizing. “Lady Catrena wants Your Majesty and Banholf—” she spoke the latter’s name with a bit of venom “—in the banquet hall immediately. She wants to discuss something with you, I believe.” Banholf nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Carry on cleaning.”

She sighed, irritated, and glared at Banholf’s back until he disappeared around the corner. “Stupid ba—” The lady-in-waiting never had the chance to finish the statement, because she cut her finger on a ceramic shard. “Crap.”

--

Fallowshaith doesn’t have a lot of people in it, does it, Kuro?

Not as many as Tryssen, but I kind of like it.

The black cat curled itself around her shoulders as she sat sleepily on the bedspread.

I guess I should go… I’ve been sleeping for a while, now.

Shiro and Rin, seemingly plotting in the corner, hissed.

Go, go. We’ve almost got it…

“Is that a mouse hole?”

The cats didn’t respond, so Ria shrugged eloquently so that no one would say she was impolite and left the room quietly, golden eyes looking resolutely ahead.

--

“Yes. We do want to keep this quiet, so we’ll just have a regular meal with something extra at the end…”

Cook groaned. “Even more difficult work.”

Catrena elbowed her subtly. “Don’t complain, you’re too lazy anyway.” Turning to the rest of the crowd, she cleared her throat. “Any questions? Yes, Zadok, what is it?”

Zadok was the cellarmaster, lanky, dark-haired, always glaring. “How much?”

Catrena was on the verge of slapping him, as is normal for anyone that stands around Zadok for more than two seconds’ span of time. “How much what, Zadok.”

“Wine.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “I’m afraid we’ll have no use for your cellars. King Orthel will be in a meeting, and he’s practically the only one that drinks, because someone—” she glared specifically at Tobias—“can’t hold his draught, and someone else—” she glared at Banholf—“is too eccentric to drink. And the rest of us are not allowed to touch it, since it’s your personal stash.” She glared at Zadok, then turned back to the prince with a serene face. “Oh, and by the way, Your Majesty, your brother is coming to visit.”

Tobias looked thoughtful. “Which one?” he asked. Catrena raised an eyebrow. “The younger one, of course. Jeremathy never visits.” “Ah. I see.”

Zadok seemingly sulked in the fringe of the small crowd, casting dark looks everywhere. Catrena rolled her eyes and made shooing motions with her arms, catching Cook’s arm in her iron grip. “You stay. Get anyone you need to start preparing, and I mean ANYONE. Make it special.”

Cook looked like she was about to collapse on the spot. “My arm…”

Catrena looked down at it. The circulation had been cut off. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She let go, and Cook sped off to the kitchens, screeching for Aefred to fire up the stove, because there was going to be one big fire today. “Aefred! Siying, I’m borrowing Aelfrinn. Come on, lackeys, follow me, be quick about it…”

Everyone except Catrena stared after her, flabbergasted. “Lackeys?” they questioned.

Catrena picked up a broom from the corner. “Last one to leave the room gets—”

The room was empty, and Catrena smiled to herself. “I’ve still got it.”

Siying withdrew from the crack in the door. “I knew there was something about that woman,” she muttered darkly. “Marde, Cail, go help Cook. I have things to do.” There was a strange, slightly evil gleam in her eye that utterly creeped the stableboys out. “Yesmisssiying!” They bowed quickly and ran away, slamming the door behind them. Siying chuckled. “Now, back to my plan…” Of course, knowing Siying, one would assume the plan involved blood and pain and the preservation of all that is natural, but one would be a little off. That is all.

--

“OH MY GOD!”

“Eu-Eugenie, please calm down—”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, SPARRATHIA, THERE’S FREAKING ASBESTOS IN THE CEILING!”

Sparrathia pounced on her younger, glasses-wearing sister, clamping a hand over her mouth and “shhh”-ing with a fury. “We’re not supposed to have discovered asbestos yet, there’s no asbestos in the ceiling! And the word “freaking” hasn’t been invented! Stop using anachronisms!”

Eugenie Crinnen pushed her glasses up onto her nose, glaring at her older sister. “Fine, there’s no asbestos. Let’s just all die, shall we?”

“Actually, there is no asbestos in the ceiling,” Banholf said from behind them.

Eugenie huffed angrily at him and stormed off, adjusting her glasses again.

“She’s very obnoxious, isn’t she?” Banholf commented as he watched her storm around the corner.

“Very,” Sparrathia agreed.

“And not exactly a pretty picture,” Banholf sniped again. Sparrathia nodded, rolling her eyes, and waved him away. “I have much more important things to do besides listen to you complain about my sister, no matter how true they are, so shoo!”

Banholf towered over her suddenly, eyes glinting. “And you owe me several lives’ worth of money, don’t you forget.”

Sparrathia gulped, cowering. “Yessirthankyousir.”

And as suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared.

Sparrathia stood there, confused. “He disturbs me,” she muttered to herself, and continued sweeping.

--

“Tobias?”

Ria looked around confusedly. “Tobias? I thought this was the room.”

“It is. I’m surprised you came here so quickly, most people get lost on the way here,” a voice said from behind her. She whirled around. “Oh. Banholf. Well, I guess I’m just a quick learner,” she said, shrugging.

Banholf’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and he seemed to realize something. “Tobias will be here in a minute, so don’t worry,” he said offhandedly, and sat down on a chair in the corner, picking up a dog-eared book.

Ria nodded, black and gold hair bobbing against the back of her slender neck. Flicking a lock of hair behind her head, she observed Banholf. He couldn’t be older than eighteen, and his black hair was slicked back constantly. And he looked completely comfortable in his black, suit-like attire. But his “suit” was considered odd at the time as no one knew what a suit was, except Ria, because she’s just a genius who knows what planets are.

“Please stop observing me,” he said, and she was slightly startled, red lips parting a bit. “I dislike it when people stare at me like I’m some sort of tapestry on display. And you’re a female, as well.”

“Well, excuuuuse me,” Ria muttered under her breath, turning away.

“I heard that.”

The door opened and Tobias walked in, and for once, Ria looked him in the eye. Well, in the face. She’d never really noticed his face before. It was strikingly different when contrasted with Banholf’s black-haired, dark-eyed, refined face; it was more welcoming, friendlier, easier to look at and not turn away, and he had blue eyes and brown hair.

Like Dad, she thought wistfully.

“Erm. Princess? You’re spacing out.”

She blinked, long lashes brushing against her cheek. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Anyway, what did you want to see me for?”

She shook her head. “Just to talk.”

“About what?” he asked inquisitively.

“About your brother,” she said. Wait, he has a brother? What? Why am I saying this?

His face instantly hardened, but he managed to tone it down to an indifferent expression in a fraction of a second. “My brother is doing quite well. I believe he’s coming to visit tomorrow. How did you know about Daniel, anyway?”

Ria continued, not knowing how she knew this. It seemed… obvious, somehow, that she would know all about his family, but she’d never learned about it. “Not that one, silly,” she said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Princess,” he said, forcing his mouth into a small smile. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, right?”

She nodded, reluctantly leaving the subject. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about him. I wonder what his older brother did? Or does he just have an attitude?

He sighed. “I thought as much.” Banholf looked up from his book in the corner. “King Orthel and several of his subjects will be meeting in conference tomorrow night, so they will not be joining you if you celebrate the birthday then.”

Ria was taken aback. “You sound like you don’t celebrate birthdays.”

“I don’t. People celebrate it for me.” He looked back into his book, a satisfied air around him.

He’s weird, she thought, turning her golden gaze back to the prince. “Is he always like that?” Ria muttered to him. Tobias held back a chuckle. “Banholf. Quite the peculiar one, although a great friend. I’m not very good at relating to people like him, though, he’s always… I don’t know. Somehow more sophisticated than any adult I’ve ever seen.”

“You mean snobby,” Ria observed.

Tobias laughed. “No, not really. I’ve never heard him praise himself more than needs be. He came here when I was six along with Cook and Siying, all of them were nine. Cook was the oldest, I think, and then Banholf, and then Siying. They all still babble in Shaanxi with each other every so often.”

Ria nodded, storing this information in her head for later. “Cook and Siying are sisters, right?”

He nodded. “Cook is the older one, but not by much, I don’t think. Anyway, Banholf, who was about a year older than Siying—probably around half a year older, probably older than Cook as well—was adopted by Sir Ranolf Reis de Hayes, who changed his name to Banholf Yonde de Hayes. He’s not the man’s son, if you get what I mean.”

Ria chuckled, soft and melodic as a brook tumbling over stones in the middle of a lush, green forest with birds tweeting and small frogs chirping and small, pretty fish swimming through the crystal clear water with the sun shining overhead, glinting off of the ripples in the stream which was crossed by a log which cast an aesthetic shadow over the glassy surface of the water down to the bed of gray and brown pebbles beneath; the whole scene was beautiful, which aptly described her chuckle.

Tobias pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh as well. Banholf sighed audibly in the corner, although his back was turned to them. He stood up. “I’m going to give you two some time alone,” he said in a dark way that suggested he was fed up with them. “After I walk out that door, you can flirt all you like.”

The prince turned to him, face red. “I—what—no—I’m not—”

Banholf rolled his eyes. “I’m sure. You should be spending time with your fiancee anyway.” He walked out of the room, closing the door quietly.

Tobias almost took a step towards the door, then stopped, flustered. “I—he—what—”

Ria sat down on the floor, laughing too hard to stand up. (Her laugh was soft and melodic as a brook tumbling over stones in the middle of a lush, green forest with birds tweeting and small frogs chirping and small, pretty fish swimming through the crystal clear water with the sun shining overhead, glinting off of the ripples in the stream which was crossed by a log which cast an aesthetic shadow over the glassy surface of the water down to the bed of gray and brown pebbles beneath; the whole scene was beautiful, which aptly described her laugh.)

Tobias’s face turned a furious red out of embarrassment, which only caused Ria to laugh even more.

“You’re so weird,” she gasped, recovering. Tobias shushed her. “We aren’t supposed to have invented the word ‘weird’ yet, princess,” he whispered, helping her up. She nodded. “I want to use it anyway. It aptly describes you,” she added, and doubled over in laughter again.

She looks beautiful when she laughs, Tobias observed.

--

Somewhere on the castle grounds, Banholf burst out laughing like he’d seen something hilarious for no good reason. Siying twitched, accidentally slashing off the head of a rose rather violently. Frowning, she quickly picked it up, grafting it back on. It was thenceforth known as the “Franken-rose”. Cook’s eyelid twitched violently until she blinked several times, rubbing it for good measure. “Open a window, Lilla.”

--

The king’s elaborately-sewn robes swished over the ground as he strode quickly across the hall, accompanied by his wife. “Mira, please. I have Ranolf to deal with tonight! I don’t need any more complications in my sched—did you say it was her birthday?”

She glared at him. “Yes, I did.”

He looked slightly flustered. “Oh dear.”

“Yes.”

“That night is when…”

“Yes.”

Orthel would have smashed something to the floor if there had been anything to smash to the floor. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “If only the child hadn’t been birthed in the first place—”

“Is it my fault now?” asked Mira, sounding affronted.

He shook his head. “Nobody’s fault. No one knew he would have done that. But still! He is an embarrassment to Fallowshaith and his brothers!”

“You make it sound like he just eloped with another girl,” Mira said, scoffing.

“I—I didn’t mean it that way. Even if he is my son, the son of a king, he doesn’t deserve to be a prince.”

“Yes.”

“Mira, stop answering me with single-syllable words. What is that, lipstick? Foundation? Dinner isn’t even for another six hours!”

“It is a queen’s duty to be presentable at all hours, even when she sleeps.”

“And it is a king’s duty to protect the air from being clogged up by all of this powder nonsense!”

“Powder nonsense? If it wasn’t for this powder nonsense, you would have been overthrown long ago!”

“Oh, and by who, may I ask?”

“Your inlaws.”

“And why?”

“…You are impossible. Mama always talked about how a woman should keep up her appearances, and Papa always told me you were no good even if you were a prince, and you obviously don’t understand why a queen must keep up her appearances.”

“But—!”

“I’ve born three children for you, Orthel, it’s time you stop questioning me and start changing for dinner!”

“But dinner is in six hours!”

“No buts, Orthel, do it now or I’ll have you thrown out of the room!”

“Fat lot that’ll do.”

“Incorrigible, you are.”

“Hmph.”

“Go change. Imbecile.”

--

“What does your name actually mean?”

Ria looked over at the prince. They’d been reading, sharing each others’ companies for the past hour or two. “What?”

“Your name. What does it mean?”

“Rianna Othella Ravynna Aleda Yamashiro Akira Min’tharon de Matthinghouste-Tryssen?”

“Yes, that.”

“Rianna is a form of Rhianna, which means ‘great queen’. Othella is the feminine form of Othello, which means ‘fortune’. Ravynna is, obviously, ‘raven’. Aleda means ‘little winged one’, and Yamashiro means ‘white mountain’. Akira means ‘intelligence’, and Min’tharon is an old word passed down to females in the Tryssen household meaning ‘beautiful rose’. Matthinghouste is my mother’s country, and Tryssen is my father’s. Or, used to be…” she trailed off sadly.

She felt two gentle hands on her shoulders, and she looked up into Tobias’s blue eyes. “I don’t know exactly what ‘Tobias’ means, but I’m definitely going to say that it doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, when I marry you, you’ll receive that name, and by that time you’ll have so many it’ll be hard to remember.”

Ria smiled.

--

Siying’s mind went blank for a long moment, in which the Frankenrose was chopped to bits by her spazzing hand. When she came to, she didn’t recognize it and passed it off as some mulch she’d forgotten to spread.

Banholf spat out the tea he was drinking and immediately ran outside to cough out a lung or his recent lunch.

Cook just twitched. Coincidentally, a glob of sauce from her ladle went flying out of the window, landing on an unsuspecting insect that immediately buzzed over to the Frankenrose and deposited the sauce glob onto its mangled remains. Siying promptly shooed the bug away and continued kneading the Frankenrose into the dirt to ensure that the supposed mulch or dirt’s nutrients would spread equally to the entire row of flowers.

--

Sir Ranolf Reis de Hayes strode quickly over the lawn to his adopted son, Banholf.

“Hello, my son,” he said, as if he were making a point.

“Hello, man I do not really wish to be affiliated with,” Banholf replied, as if he were making a point. Oh wait.

“You’re so cold to me,” Ranolf complained.

“I am generally cold to people I am not close with, which are people I am not related to or good friends with. Now bugger off, you old sod.”

“Old! I’m not that old.”

“Keep wishing, old man.”

Ranolf and Banholf exchanged a brief glaring session.

“Stop bloody glaring at me,” Banholf said, glaring with such intensity at Ranolf that Ranolf buggered off like the old sod he was.

--

The good Queen Mira looked out at the grounds through the window, then paused stitching suddenly.

“Orthel, prepare yourself, he’s coming.”

“No! Mira, this isn’t happening!”

“Get out of that fetal position and start acting like a man, Orthel! Otherwise you’ll never be even close to being the man your grandmother is!” She glared at him, needle suspended in midair.

Orthel glared at her, but she whacked him over the head with her expensive fan. “Now go greet the rabble,” she instructed, continuing with the needlepoint, and he nodded sulkily, putting on his elaborate outer robe and elaborate crown.

“Summon the guard,” he said to the man waiting outside the room, who promptly clattered off with a “Yes, Your Majesty”. “We’re going to need them,” Orthel said grimly, strapping a sharper-than-usual sword onto his waist.

“Orthel, put that toy down. You’re not making a mess inside the banquet hall and I definitely don’t wan’t you to be complaining about your achy joints and bad back when this is all over,” she said, stitching.

“But Mira—”

“No buts, Orthel. Now put that needle down before I take care of you myself. Your grandmother would be ashamed.” The flower was almost finished.

“My grandmother was a bloody bloodhound trainer in her spare time! I’m not!”

“Stop making up excuses. She bred some of the best hounds in the kingdom. Now put the sword down and go be a polite, kingly man.” Stitch, stitch.

“That was a low shot, Mira.”

“I have no other choice than to force you out than,” she said, and began to stand up.

Orthel quickly shook his head, unbelted the sword and rushed out of the room with a fast “No, you should keep working on that needlepoint, I’m sure it’ll turn out fine and I’ll call you down when the rest of them get here”.

Mira smiled with a kind of viciousness gifted only to women who have completely intimidated the opposite gender for over thirty years.

--

End of Chapter 2