《· of stirring troubles ·》

～·～·～

There was great unrest in Limroy. There had been since before dawn broke its first light. Such unrest that not even the unexpected arrival of Lord Bastian of Vlarkala himself could settle such unnerved chatter.

"You felt that, right?" one asked.

"We all felt that earthquake. It damn near woke the entire continent up," two said.

"It has to be the Hasaheller Tips, right?"

"Well, do you know of any other mountain scapes makin' a racket?"

Mistress Fiona Annabeth Willows had gone out to welcome his Lordship to Limroy, whilst Alyria was grateful she wasn't summoned to attend, for she was restless herself, though for a much different reason.

Since the moment she woke, her skin shivered with raw heat. She felt utterly chilled to the bone, yet upon Audrey's concerned palm, it was a contrasting truth; "Heavens, sister, you're burning up!"

It was the least of the maiden's worries, as she could hardly keep her head from spinning the room long enough to see clearly. How could she hope to ride all day in a carriage and still walk afterwards without a stutter in stride? Much less have the energy to stay awake?

It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the dream she had, could it?

Alyria leaned against her painted wood headboard, feeling its hewn artwork in protruding detail. She groaned achingly, exhaling hot air to ease the pressure against her chest. However, she must be delusional if she thought she had actually seen a wisp of smoke follow through. How ridiculous.

Another breath and her gaze wandered up. Upon the ceiling, a marvel of white-hewn flowers scribbled across the plain, caressing delicate swirls of leafy vines in all innocence could offer—alas, ruined by the fresh cracks running darkness in a rude manner.

Yet, despite the tarnish, it was how she imagined Everflower Falls to be. An innocuous bouquet to a third person perspective, yet within, held the land of the forrayse pixies. Flowers that reached for the sky in beautiful blooms of colour, with their stalks accommodating a pixie or two each. Gushing waterfalls tumbling over mushrooms for mountains, moss as the ground, and a tree of eternal radiance for its palace.

Dandeberry may or may not have shared such delicate secrecy once or twice when the other two were elsewhere.

The door opened. Audrey strode in, ever collected in her features, with their handmaids in suit. Tali and Mildred ushered themselves further in with sloppy buckets in hand. They disappeared behind a divider situated in front of Alyria's bed, obscuring the expectant bathtub laying behind. A moment later, the sound of gushing water filled the brocade walls, furling lavender-scented steam above the opaque paper windows in wispy wonder.

Mildred reappeared first and bowed to Audrey. "It's filled, m'lady."

"Thank you, ladies. You may both leave."

The handmaids left with a wordless bow, leaving an older sister dragging the youngest out of bed. Walking behind the divider saw the maiden stripped of her sweat-dampened chemise. Goosebumps shivered at the newfound nudity, and Alyria made fast work of twirling her unruly hair into a loose, finger-made knot. Her legs dipped into the oval bath of timber refinement, prying a shaky moan upon its lukewarm promise. She quickly sank beneath the mounds of bubbly mischief where the tallest arch beckoned for her head to rest upon. She would be a fool to decline such a temptation.

The lukewarm water favoured a pleasurable release from discomfort. And soon, like ice dropped in neat ale, the feverish shiver melted from Alyria's body, and gradually, so too, the spinning throb against her skull. O, the wonders an appeasing bath could give the body and soul.

"Better?" Audrey chuckled at her sister's surrender.

Alyria gave a hum of acknowledgement as her eyes had already found solace in the darkness. Yet, she took a peek, watching her sister drape a furry rug beside the bathtub, cushioning the floorboards before settling down.

"This is delightful, sister. Thank you."

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Reeree replied.

"Indeed, I am."

There was a rustle of fabric. "Come. Allow me to wash your hair so we may experiment with Piers's new concoction."

Must I have to?

Alyria groaned out her silent protest but complied. She shifted, nestling in the middle of the tub with her knees drawn to her chest as Audrey freed her mane from its twirled cage. Down dropped an atrocious tangle no better than an eyrie—or in mother's words, a beastly hedgehog. At the guidance of Reeree's hand on her forehead, Alyria tilted her head back until the cracked flowered marvels reappeared. Pleasuring warmth made a soggy, weighted heap of her hair, soon coaxed by gentle fingers lathering and massaging soap through the saturated curls.

"Have you any news of what happened last night?" Alyria wondered in the peaceful silence.

"Not much," Audrey sighed with an audible frown. "Odsain's Peak has an enormous crack through it. Most cottages took damage, and I think a couple were destroyed. I'm still surprised the earthquake did not wake you."

"I'm more surprised that you tried since I felt and heard nothing."

Audrey hummed, rinsing off soapy curls. "It was quite frightening. I didn't know what to do, and it happened so fast."

"How long did it occur for?"

"Merely a flash of lightning. As if the heavens tossed a rock into the pool we call earth and experienced its ripple."

At the heaven's mention, Alyria turned to face her sister, crossing her arms along the wooden edge. "I had a dream last night."

Audrey quirked her brows, intrigued. "It must've been quite the dream, Ria. Not even a dragon's roar would have woken you from it."

Alyria rolled her eyes, flicking water in Audrey's direction. The splashed droplets had the sister gasping at such audacity.

"Do you want to hear about it or not?"

"Alright, alright. Indulge me in this dream of yours," Audrey huffed, propping her elbow on the tub's edge for her chin to settle in her palm.

"Well. . .er—" the maiden wasn't sure where to start. Or how to, for that matter. "It was. . . dark. Yes. Really dark. At first, that is."

"Uh-huh," Audrey drawled. "How riveting."

Alyria ignored the comment. "There was. . . a river of sorts that I was standing on, which cut through the darkness. It was on fire. And the fire was blue. A river of blue fire gushing down into darkness. Then these stars appeared all around me like eruptions of galaxies. And then. . . uh. . ."

"And then. . . ?"

How on earth does she make her dreams sound so interesting?

"Er. . . a man appeared."

Audrey's brows perked up. "A man?"

"Yes. . . a man." The word in such regard felt peculiar on her tongue. "I couldn't see him all that well. His features were sheathed by smoke, yet I could make out the silhouette, and his hair was rather an impressive length since he was considerably well developed in both height and build."

"Uh-huh," Audrey drawled with a smirk. "And what's this hunk of a man of yours doing?"

Alyria flushed unexpectedly and flicked a more appropriate heap of water at her sister, who merely laughed at its attempt to quell her suggestion.

"You are a crude woman," Alyria grumbled. "He wasn't doing anything, just staring at me as I was him, as if I was the intruder in his dream."

"Interesting. What else?"

"Why, these little firefly things appeared before him, and their light revealed what I assume is his true form. Only, I can't place exactly what it was. Little mountains sprouted from the places where his skin glowed, and this horrifying, mangled thing grew out from behind his back. It was quite disturbing."

"And then?"

"And then he. . . fell."

"He fell?" Audrey echoed. "Your hunky man just fell? Into what? The darkness?"

Alyria shrugged. "The darkness."

"And then what?"

"It went silent. The stars twinkled and soared with such audacity to act as if nothing happened before this winged shadow rose in the man's place. It was a dark, opaque beast of Odsain's height that swallowed the stars until all that remained were its glowing blue eyes. The river expanded beneath each step it took towards me, yet the closer it got, the darker it became."

"His true form then."

Alyria nodded. "I believe so. But it could have been a titan for all I know."

"Yes, yes, yes, on with it."

Goodness.

"Well, the beast began running around me. Its shadows created this hurricane-like storm, consuming both the stars and river until I could no longer see or even move. It was silent so yet loud in my ears. And then, when the beast circled back once more, it charged right through me as if it was merely a ghost. But this heat that it carried. . . Audrey, it raged far more blistering than a blacksmith's forge through my body, my veins, and my chest. It burned especially in my chest."

"Oh my. Did the hunky man return? Please, let it be."

"I more or less. . . fell."

"You fell as well?" Audrey accused and threw herself back with a groan. "How could you have fallen in such a moment?"

"Oh, I do apologise for my dream self's clumsiness. Were you enjoying yourself?"

Audrey rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "I see the fever hasn't affected your snark." She then stood, smoothing out her blushing pink dress cinched with a white bodice. "Perhaps that hunky man spared himself the hassle by tossing you over."

It was Alyria's turn to roll her eyes. "Be a dearest and fetch my towel, will you?"

"Oh? You mean this towel?"

Audrey reached for the plush white cloth draped over the divider. She turned, holding it up with a single finger slanted. At gravity's amusement, it dropped—just as Alyria's jaw did—paces away from where she could reach within the tub.

Audrey smiled sweetly. "The dearest I am."

With that, she walked off.

～·☆·～

Much of the hour was spent appropriately to make the maiden most presentable to society. Alyria studied herself in the floor-length mirror, having her scrutiny eye for any imperfection. Her usual corset snuggled her waist, hidden beneath a royal green dress that contoured her figure with enviable decorous. And because of the setting chill, the dress fitted taut bishop sleeves and a flowing skirt, both in which one would find the hems brimmed with beautiful threads of weaved gold.

She thought it most appropriate to adorn the Willows' colours.

Having meddled with the intriguing new oil her brother made, Alyria was well charmed with how honey-like it felt at her fingertips whilst lathering it through her damp coils. After giving them a gentle yet thorough scrunch—which Tali quite eagerly assisted with—Alyria allowed herself the delicacy of trailing her hands with the folds of the silk cloth she used to wrap her hair in. Of course, a few tendrils had to fall over her freshly pampered mask of beauty.

The maiden rather enjoyed attiring herself up, no matter the occasion. With her dark cheekbones brushed with a rouge of pink tulip bliss, her jaw held its subtle, yet defined nature that favoured her voluptuous lips of their berry-bitten shade. Meeting her gaze, her lashes of darkened length curved to the almond shape that held newfound confidence; a fire stoked by the ring gracing her finger in all its gleam and honour.

Tali appeared in sight of the mirror's approving gaze. She wore a more formal attire herself; a white dress that fell off her delicate shoulders, cinched beneath a navy blue bodice for a waist to embrace tautly, with the skirt dropping a breath above her narrowed black boots, just enough to reveal its polished shine.

Alyria turned with a smile. "I see the solar from yesterday was well spent."

Tali averted her gaze in a bashful manner, yet she couldn't keep the sunny embarrassment from her cheeks nor the soft smile that came with.

After Tali had returned from the square with the new wolf's pelt, Alyria had half expected the handmaid to get conned into buying the pelt for two instead of one. But once again, Tali had proven herself reliable and trustworthy, therefore; the maiden let her use it however she wished, as one golden solar was equivalent to ten silver sols.

A new bodice and polished boots saw fit to grant such wishes.

"The Mistress and carriage await, m'lady."

The maiden nodded, and soon they left the confinements of her bedchambers where spindly dark cracks followed, then outside. A breath of fresh morning dew swelled in her lungs as the sun rose above the eastern forest. However, curiosity pivoted the maiden's gaze to Odsain's Peak, and a gasp left her hand hovering over ridded breath.

"Oh, my goodness."

Her sister was certainly sparse with the details of the mountain's damage. Like a decaying tree, great cracks branched through the mountainside, falling mercy to the ominous darkness obtruding within. A piece suddenly chipped off from a ragged fissure, and one suddenly wasn't finding its stability all that creditable.

"Ria?"

The maiden flinched in fright, squeezing her eyes to keep the scold from ripening off her tongue. Slowly, she turned to face Piers, who smiled sheepishly.

"One hundred and twenty-two. I swear you do it to yourself, sister. Even your handmaid wasn't scared—" his darkened gaze sought the woman behind— "right, Tali?"

"N-No, m'lord," Tali more than hopelessly squeaked out.

Her chances of confidence were as favourable as Remmy's.

Yet, it couldn't keep the maiden from rolling her eyes and stubbornly crossing her arms. "That is because Tali is not so easily unnerved as—"

One's pride hacked the sentence's peak before the embarrassment should haunt her.

Alas, Piers caught it with a grin of eager gloat. "Admit it, do you?"

A scoff at such a ridiculous question had Alyria brushing off the grinning fool, leaving the mountain's ruin at her back. However her venture to the horse stables wasn't met without disarray. A ruined heap remained of one of the Willows' stone walls. A crevice clawed into the earth beside it, forcing its tree uprooted on a slant.

Onwards, cracks followed her descent without much relaxation, as many of the cobblestones looked as though they had taken a brutalising from a cleave hammer. The cottages flanking her sides didn't reap any luck themselves; their pale structures looked much the same as her ceiling.

A stray dog hobbled into view, passing by like the light at the end of a tunnel. The two cottages bridging at the base had almost completely caved in. Little remained, exposing pastel-painted rooms long since clear. A woman swept the fallen debris to one side whilst a little boy picked through it for sentimental value. The woman paused, offering a sad smile to the maiden and her handmaid as they passed.

"This is horrible," Alyria whispered, taking in the town's square that had met a similar fate. "It will take weeks to repair the damage. Perhaps months."

In geometry, the Tips hailed as the far south-eastern landmark of Raelund—beyond the Lśmunere river, which streaked across the map like a tossed curve of rope, dividing the south completely from the continent's north and its west where Limroy nested, courtesy of their mountain's hail. If the Hasaheller Tips were truly the cause behind such destruction, then one could assume many, if not all, of Limroy's neighbours, met a similar fate; Grimfore, Houissonne, and Whisteborough.

Alyria could only imagine the extent of damage done to the rest of Raelund inhabiting much closer to the mountain range, the Capitol, especially, who took pride in the Tips for its voyager attraction. Alas, perhaps it was karma.

Alyria grew more concerned as a solemn bitterness fell over the village, marring scowls and dismay on those brave enough to face the carnage.

The stray dog returned and approached the maiden, eliciting her to pause with acknowledgement. She recognised the animal as the old boy peered up. His eyes appeared hollow from the skin lolling off his bony skull, no different to the malnourishment having his hairless hide stretching against his bones, giving one the disturbing visual of a dog's skeletal anatomy.

He made no noise, merely looking up with dull brown eyes where sickly crust had trickled and dried down his snout—almost like tear stains. Alyria felt her throat tighten. There was the unquestionable droop of exhaustion in the old boy's look and the faint smell of death on his thinned fur.

He had been out on the streets for years, as no one was willing to take him in. Alyria and her siblings fed him often, and they all pleaded with Mother to take him in, yet to no prevail. It was the only reason the normally skittish dog had approached her, and he was telling her; I'm ready.

"M'lady, I insist thy haste," Tali reminded.

Alyria gritted her teeth, hating the position she was in, and she did the most gut-wrenching thing a human could do. She walked away.

The old boy trailed his gaze after her, whose heart ached in unmitigated guilt. She couldn't offer the peace he sought, for the maiden couldn't take a life. It was simply not the thorns that grew in her nature, even if it was for the best.

Did that make her selfish? A coward? The questions had her head turning back. The dog had lost interest in her, yet had collapsed where he stood.

"Does. . . the dog's well-being trouble thee, m'lady?" Tali quietly questioned.

Alyria spared a glance. "It does, yes. These last few years have been rough for him, and I fear he won't survive the winter."

"Then his suffering will end, so thee should take comfort in the thought, m'lady."

Alyria appreciated her handmaid's attempt at a conversation and offered a half-hearted smile. A moment more of silence saw the pair reach a path split, the left lead to the pasture, whereas the right lead down to the horse stables where Mother awaited. Alyria was half inclined to sprint the veering left, for she imagined the serenity the eastern forest could provide to all her worries.

Her thoughts led to the pixies, and she worried about their well-being. Was Everflower Falls affected by the earthquake as well? If only I could visit them. I could bring a basket full of knick knacks for them to pick through for whatever it is they so require.

Alas, against her own desire, the maiden dutifully swayed right. Though she noticed that the slice of nature before her shared a resemblance to her dream; a grey pathway cutting through a sea of green. Patches of grass rustled to the chilly wind, none-the-wiser to the ruined cottages around, for they simply remained lush and speckled with tiny white daisies, slanting down with the path where the horse stables greeted at the base.

One couldn't miss it. It was an elongated building of solid brick with wooden beams protruding from one half, framing the front yard that bore a water trough and stacks of hay barrels. Mr Payne emerged from the entrance built beside it, armed with a broom. Frowned annoyance made harsh work of his matured features; his gaze set to the ground with purpose, silver tendrils fell past his face from his ailing ponytail as he swept debris rather vehemently.

"Mr Payne, are you alright?" the maiden called once within earshot.

The old man glanced up and his scowl instantly sweetened. "Ah, good morning, m'lady. You look radiant in those colours."

Alyria smiled brightly and offered a short courtesy. However, with her gaze lowered, it fell upon the broom, where crimson splotches sullied the otherwise mud-coloured bristles. Taking in Mr Payne's appearance, it was apparent he hadn't returned home after staying for the maiden's soirée. His once neat charcoal grey coat smoothed over a frilled white shirt, had become dishevelled with whatever dealings had dark splatters lashed upon him. His brown breeches and black boots were no different.

"What happened? Are the horses alright? The earthquake didn't startle the poor things too badly, I hope?" Alyria fretted.

My Payne released a sigh that told the weight of his exhaustion. "Oh, my dear. After a most delicious dinner at your residence, and Aurora and I bid our farewell, we were walking home without amiss. The moon had broken its first crescent light, the stars were shining. . . and yet something didn't feel right in the air."

The elder took a moment to collect his disturbance, yet it had him glancing over his shoulder to where the stable's entrance was. Alyria did so as well, and it was then she noticed how awfully quiet and empty it appeared. Familiar crimson splotches dripped upon clawed wood that was left snapped and splintered—empty without stallions and mares making a fuss over their breakfast. The silence was something one couldn't miss.

The maiden found herself struggling to digest what might have occurred, yet the evidence was plainly so.

"I knew something wasn't right," Mr Payne continued, defeat weighing in his tone. "And when we heard the horses making a ruckus, I knew it in my bones. 'It's probably nothing,' I told Aurora, since she can never manage her emotions well. But by the time I got here. . ." dismay reaved his words, leaving the old man to grimace at the memory haunting behind his eyes. "It was too late. I only managed to clip the behemoth's ear, so it'll be bleedin' a while."

"It was as if the Dallows themselves had slain the animals," muttered Clive, the stable stripling who lurked near the entrance with attire and tool no better than Mr Payne's. He leaned against his rake with two hands. His curly tousle of brown locks stuck to his labour-glistened forehead, and his eyes—normally as gentle as her brother's—were downcast.

Alyria gently clasped the old man's shoulders, drawing his solemn attention back to her. "There's nothing more you could've done. At least now, they're free to gallop the lush hillside of the heavens till their hearts' content."

"My dear, forgive me, but you are far too naïve of this world to know what you preach."

Although his words prickled the truth, Alyria smiled at him with sincerity. There was already enough dismay downcasting the village—she saw no reason to express her own.

"I may be naïve, but I know a good, honest person when I see one. And I know if Limroy's finest stable men couldn't have prevented such a thing, then no one could have."

At her words, Clive straightened his spine whilst Mr Payne offered a strained smile, yet it failed to reach his grey gaze. "Go on now, your Mother is just around the corner with the Lord."

Alyria nodded, offering another curtsy. "Adieu to you, good sirs."

"And you, m'lady."

"Take care, Miss Willows!"

Alyria chuckled at the stripling, but once they had distanced themselves, her brows drew into the thoughts uninterrupted by Tali's silence. Had all the horses truly met their horrific demise? How could that be? It was as random as it was brazen. And, if so, it left Limroy crippled without a means of travel when it was desperately needed to see the village's repair. But what could've possibly had the strength and savageness to execute an attack inhumanely so?

And suppose the creature returned with a newfound blood-thirst. What then?

Alyria most certainly would not trust her life in the hands of Limroy's hunters; majority of them were drunken swines with prides to stroke, whilst the others were no better than the forty-something-old man she rejected. Brin, was it? Skilled, but a brute nonetheless.

The answers weren't on the ground, yet it was where the maiden's gaze wandered. That was, until voices piqued her attention. Towards the edge of the village's south, where one would find the continual stretch of forestry from the east, stood a magnificent carriage fitting of royalty. One which Alyria did not recognise, and yet it was distinguishable by its crest.

The carriage displayed its riches with splendid curves and sharp corners, all enveloped by a sleek black finish for lovely adornments to frame. Golden lamp posts situated in all four corners—equally embellished—each topped off with flame-furled points. Sitting atop the fine carriage were golden ornaments to catch a glint, rimming the edge with piercing yet delicate waves whilst the centre housed an elegance that had surely taken inspiration from a grand chandelier.

Alyria spotted her Mother and the Lord himself. They conversed near the carriage's door, which was printed with the Vlarkala crest; an ornamental sun rising above—what appeared to be—a mountain range. Mother wore a beautiful dress as always; a brocade fabric of dainty pink flowers upon elaborate green shades topped with a raised collar curved to a white rose's perfection. Rosaceae would approve.

However, his Lordship the Bastian of Vlarkala was a different tale; draped in a black cloak with a plush red underlay that sheathed his formal attire. Not a strand was amiss from the hair slicked back with a gloss—an inked void with a graze of silver at the sides. A striking contrast to his sunless skin. His arched brows spoke of a man's tolerance for childish behaviour with firmly set lips, as age had worn an indents' prominence between years of scowling, yet the same could be said for the laughter lines arcing around his mouth and making crow feet of his eyes.

Upon her arrival, Lord Bastian's attention shifted. His eyes found her. Having never met the Lord in person, Alyria felt herself faltering in unease as if the vultures had spied her demise.

His gaze cut across the goosebumps on her skin like ice. His demeanour was ill-tempered, yet as he looked at the maiden, the laughter lines became shadows of the kind-hearted smile he offered. Alyria faltered all over again, taken aback by the abrupt flash of smiling teeth, yet quickly chided herself by offering a deep curtsy.

"Ah, my lord," Mother started, having Alyria rise with a nudging hand on her bicep. "Allow me to present my daughter, Miss Alyria Willows."

She stood before the Lord at a much tighter distance, suffocating the stutter in her chest. He looked down, making their gazes clash once again, and Alyria felt pitiful in her height difference to his Lordship. Perhaps it was the boots he wore, as they had quite thick soles.

"It's an honour, Miss Willows," the Lord offered with a head bow, fisting his gloved hand to his chest of a respectable nature.

"My lord," Alyria replied with another, softer bow.

It had been over a decade since an erected statue commemorated his triumph over the vampyres, and yet, upon closer inspection, his appearance acted timeless.

"What brings you to our village, your lordship?" Alyria asked.

"A personal matter brought me to the pleasant village of Limroy," he answered with a velvety smooth voice. It, too, knew no such thing as time. "And yet I'm troubled by the discovery that my conquest has not yet taken its final breath."

Alyria's perplexity twitched her brows into question, as it was quite the coincidence, before the pieces clicked. There's been another vampyre attack.

"Yes, it seems we've not yet rid ourselves of the horrid things just yet," Mother added in distaste. "But luck is upon us still, my daughter, as his lordship has graciously offered us passage to his estate via his carriage."

"Oh, my—" Alyria couldn't help but expose her surprise with wide eyes. Quickly, she bowed her head again in demure mannerism. "T-Thank you, my lord. Your generosity is most appreciated."

Lord Bastian nodded, smiling all the more. "It's the least I can do, Miss Willows. I would hate to see absence rob my most important guests of the pleasant evening in which my son picks a betrothal."

Alyria felt her cheeks warm against the rouge swept across her cheeks. She smiled gingerly, yet her flush didn't go unnoticed as his Lordship observed her with twinkling amusement.

Something about the Lord made butterflies flutter in her stomach. Though Alyria couldn't decipher if it were simply because she was meeting Limroy's saviour for the first time—therefore beseeching first and all impressions crucial—or if it were something else. And the longer she held his stare, the stronger she felt the nausea coil with each shallow breath.

"It shall be a magnificent ball, indeed. Shall we be off, then, my lord?" Mother offered.

Alyria wrung her fingers, the first to break eye contact, which provoked the Lord's answer. "Yes, let's. I shall ride on horseback and provide security for your journey to my manor."

"Oh, my lord, no, you needn't do that—"

Lord Bastian interjected with a raised hand, settling the matter. "My mind is made up, Mistress Willows. Our troubles have not yet waned, so for my sake, allow me to oversee your safety."

—

ヾ(￣▽￣)Bye~Bye~

~Sonya~

Word count excluding A/N: 4812