RUSELM'S BESTIARY
CHAPTER ONE ─ WE ALL HAVE VICIOUS MASTERS

"WHO ARE YOU?" Halla's soft voice whispers at her son's side, she runs her needlethin fingers through the short and choppy hair that's the color of freshly turned soil in autumn just before snowfall first ravishes Nazair and the air turns crisp. Cultivators of the blue rose overturn the earth to give it rest and allow the rocky terrain of their country a chance to replenish and allow the flowers to grow anew with the thawing of the cold months that heralds a new year, and her son's hair is reminiscent of such memories that brings a smile to Halla's lips.

He is young, having turned nine a few months before. He contentedly swings his legs back and forth while letting his mother play with his hair. This is her only child and she loves him deeply. If anything were to befall her sweet son, Halla knew her heart would shatter and she would swiftly die of heartbreak. The very idea was agonizing.

She wanted to impart his heritage upon him because she would do anything to ensure he would live and be happy, even if it meant something happening to Halla. If he could know where he comes from, she could be happy with that miniscule knowledge.

"Ruselm!" Her son exclaims with excitement. "Ruselm Jurren! And I'm an adventurer with my faithful companion—" Ruselm gestures to the black cat sitting on the windowsill in front of them. She's watching the raindrops race on the window. "Bliska!"

Bliska turns at her name and meows gently, her yellow eyes watching Halla's son steadily.

Ruselm lets out a giggle.

"You are more than that, my son," Halla allows herself a small laugh. She ruffles Ruselm's hair now and gently scratches at his scalp. "Do you remember what I told you on your birthday?"

He looks back at Halla, his dark brown eyes are somehow so wise already. How could a child have a look like that?

"I'm a prince." Ruselm is quieter, almost whispering. The laughter is gone from his voice now, disappeared from his eyes. He does remember the secret his mother told him but that doesn't mean he understands it at all. He couldn't, not yet. "That's what you told me."

Halla nods. "Yes, Russie. You are destined for greatness."

"Mama, if I'm a prince... I still don't understand. How can I be a prince?" Ruselm's brow scrunches. "I thought Nazairian royalty was completely abolished when Nilfgaard invaded. The royal families were killed and the highlander clans were barely spared to live their lives in relative peace... I mean, as content as you can live without practicing some of your most important heritage and traditions."

"How—" Halla starts. Ruselm was constantly surprising her. "You've been paying attention in your lessons with the good Mister Florwich then?"

Her son nods. "He makes history very interesting!"

Halla smiles once more when she realizes how smart Ruselm really is. "Good," she hums. "I'm glad we chose him to be your professor then. He always seemed such a good man when I knew him, I knew he would be instrumental to your education the moment I learned I was carrying you in my belly."

Ruselm tilts his head. "How did you and Mister Florwich meet?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago." Halla sighs. "We haven't the time for that story because you are right Ruselm. When Nilfgaard invaded, they nearly wiped out all members of the royal families. There were several, you see. And they were very large. Nilfgaardians killed them because they were symbols of the Old Ways and that meant they were symbols of revolution, of hope, of fighting back. With the royal families shattered, they believed all of their subjects would be without hope and would fall into line."

"But that didn't happen," Ruselm chimes in. "Because the clans would never bend the knee, not even to Nazairian royalty!"

"Exactly!" Halla twirls a small strand of his hair around her finger. She leans closer. "The royal families and the clans worked side by side as brothers and sisters do. Their relationship was harmonious, it was beautiful. And when the Nilfgaardians destroyed them, the clans were furious because it was as if they had just lost their own family. So what did the clans do?"

"They fought back."

"And they lost..." Halla can't help the sadness that she is sure creeps into her voice. She remembered the days of her childhood they were discussing as though it had just happened yesterday. "But they were spared. Because of their bravery and because of their small numbers, they were spared. And now they are controlled like dogs with vicious masters."

Ruselm frowns now, unhappiness spreading like a plague across his features one by one; his smile, his eyes, his voice. He was far more mature than nine years of age should be allowed. "We all have vicious masters," he remarks. "As long as Nilfgaard controls Nazair."

And he wasn't wrong.

By Melitele, she wished he was wrong.

But he wasn't.

She closes her eyes for the briefest of moments, wishing to stare at her son's face no longer while such unhappiness was upon it. "Yes, my sunshine." Halla says. "They are our masters too."

"But Mama, that doesn't explain how I am a prince."

Halla opens her eyes again.

"Because if I am to be a prince, then you or Papa would have to be of the royal families. Isn't that also true?"

She nods. "It is I, Ruselm. I was a princess of the Celanna Familia. And I was spared a long time ago by a Nilfgaardian who helped me to escape the slaughter of my brothers and my mother and father. He had a soft heart, I think because I looked like his daughter..." Halla trails off, remembering Rhalten's gentle grey eyes. "He gave me to the Afirra clan instead of killing me."

Ruselm remains silent, watching her closely.

"Chieftain Vorne raised me as if I were his own daughter from then on. To keep me safe. He knew what was at stake."

"I won't tell anyone, Mama."

"I know, my sunshine." Halla presses a gentle kiss to her son's temple. "We are symbols of hope, you understand? If anyone knew about us... Nilfgaard would not take kindly to our existence. I assume we would be made examples of, for hiding. Oh I don't mean to scare you, sunshine. I'm sorry."

Ruselm's face is etched with worry. "You're not scaring me. It's just... does Papa know?"

Halla bites her lower lip. "No."

"Okay."

"Papa is a lovely man," Halla assures her son. "But he does not need to know. What's happening in the world right now, with Nilfgaard on their campaign, we would never be able to change the course of fate. What will be, will be. What won't, won't. It is in stone and neither of us hold a chisel, dearest. Do you understand?"

She wanted to impart upon Ruselm that he was special, they both were, but their fate and the fate of the world could not be changed. At least, not for the time being. Not for a long time. Everything was precarious, always looking over her shoulder to ensure that nobody knew the truth, watching her words, tailoring her perspective for newcomers and visitors until their allegiances were made as clear as the river's waters run.

"I understand," Ruselm suddenly grabs Halla's hand. "And I promise I will never tell another person, Mama. To keep you safe. Thank you for being honest with me."

"How in Melitele's name did I become blessed with such a wonderful child?" Halla squeezes Ruselm's hand. She leans in and touches her forehead to his. A twin smile breaks across both of their features. "You are the future, sunshine. And your soul is as bright as the North Star. I pray to Melitele that you never lose that light."

A gentle knock sounds at the doorway and both turn to see who has come. It is Gesmi Chivay, Ruselm's caretaker and Halla's dear friend. She is a dwarf with russet hair that falls in ringlets below her waist, with a beautiful beard to match. There are braids in this beard, each carefully made and adorned with golden rings and gemstones that catch the torchlight and hold an ethereal beauty. Above this beard are two differently colored eyes, one is as green as spring leaves and the other is as blue as a bubbling brook. Her features are strong and masculine but her demeanor is compassionate.

"Mistress," Gesmi's voice is deep. "I'm here to take Master Ruselm to the library. We are going to be learning botany tonight and which herbs are best gathered under the moonlight."

Halla bows her head in Gesmi's direction. "Very well," she looks to her son. "Run along, my sunshine. When you are finished with your nightly studies, don't forget to feed Bliska before bedtime."

"Yes, Mama."

The cat jumps down from the windowsill and rubs her sides along their legs, trilling at Ruselm as the boy stands and follows Gesmi out of his room. Bliska's tail disappears around the corner and Halla is left to herself once more as their footsteps eventually fade into silence.

She stands and dusts the front of her dress off. A weight leaves her chest. The rain continues to pitter-patter on the window and a sound of rolling thunder sounds in the distance. For as delighted as she is to know that Ruselm now understands his heritage, there is still a reminiscent feeling of fear and worry. But that is not for her to worry about now.

Halla leaves Ruselm's room and walks the halls of the Jurren estate. She passes many doors and corridors with no destination in mind. The library, the kitchens, the bedchambers. It is some time before she is stopped in front of the entrance to the greenhouse before she realizes where she has come, and she opens the glass doors to slip inside.

It is warmer here. And darker, too, with only moonlight to guide her path to the rows of flowerbeds and rosebushes that is marked by smooth stones and clear crystals in the ground. Rain continues to fall outside, rivers of water racing down the sides of the glass greenhouse and it is a beautiful sight to behold. Of the entire estate, the greenhouse is Halla's favorite.

The flowers smell more divine than any perfume Thad could present to her and their velvety petals are her favorite to rub between the fleshy pads of her fingertips, tingles racing up her arm at the feeling of such vibrant young life. Plants became her escape. She'd spend hours upon hours caring for the plants in the greenhouse, sunup to sundown sometimes. There was work to be done here and this was a controlled environment where her outside worries could evaporate into nothingness and she could have blessed moments of peace.

At the center of the greenhouse is a statue of the goddess Melitele herself. There is a Cintran-violet cushion of a far off persuasion, an exotic pillow from lands beyond the Korath Desert made by people whose skin is even darker than Halla's and whose language is far different than the Common Tongue which is spoken across the Continent. It is a place of prayer, of power, and of utter peace. It's the only place in Nazair that Halla feels completely safe.

She doesn't need to look over her shoulder here at the feet of her goddess. She needn't hold her tongue or watch her every move. Here she can be honest. And here she can dream.

Halla sinks to her knees, the cushion is undeniably soft. She bows her head and closes her eyes.

It comes to her as naturally as communing with animals, the airiness of the Chaos that belongs to Melitele. It envelops her like a mother's caring embrace, wraps around her until all her senses are dizzy with love and joy that only a mother could understand. When Halla reaches out with her mind, she nudges into the barrier of the goddess' being. They have communed many times before and this is a familiar routine.

She opens her eyes.

And the sight that greets her is a young maiden, fairness unrivalled in the world, with honeyed eyes and brown hair that falls in waves around her shoulders. This is Melitele. She smiles and everything, for one blessed moment, feels right again. They are in a garden similar to the greenhouse but it is bright here and the warmth of the sunlight is as real as the goddess before her.

"My child," Melitele's voice is a caress. "Halla. I am pleased to speak with you once more. Oh, what brings you to our garden?"

"Goddess, I come to ask you a favor."

Melitele hums a little tune, it is familiar somehow. She turns from Halla and walks among the tulips, running her hand over the tops as Halla trails behind her. The words of the song can barely be made clear but the noise is pleasant and pretty. "On winds and waters may you cross, see mountains white and blue..."

Sometimes it was like this.

While the goddess would think, the two would walk.

"But on your road let's not forget the love I have for you."

Halla knew not to interrupt the deity until they were ready to speak.

And suddenly Melitele stops. She turns. Looks Halla right in the eyes, her smile is still gentle and as comforting a sight as always.

"What do you seek?" Melitele asks.

"Your guidance," Halla swallows nervously. "Over my son. I ask that you favor him, Protectress. Guide him. Teach him, as you have me. Be his North Star. Let not his mistakes become deadly, let not his heart render him broken, let not his good soul be tainted by the world. Please, Goddess, this I ask of you because I know your light is infectious. It is what the world needs."

Melitele's eyes shine now. She steps closer. "Ruselm?"

"Yes, Goddess."

"He is pure. And kind. Eager. What a beautiful son you have, Halla."

"Thank you, Goddess." Halla smiles now. "He is everything to me."

"Yes, my child." Melitele tilts her head and reaches out to touch Halla's cheek. Her eyes contain a sadness in them now. "I know. I promise to you, kindhearted Halla, that your son will receive my guidance into the afterlife. And you, lovely Halla, I will not abandon your side until your demise as well."

Halla signs in relief. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"No thanks are necessary." Melitele withdraws her hand. "Your end is near."

And when Halla's eyes open out of shock, she is pulled from the communion with her goddess and back into reality. Her heart is racing, her fear is building. The crackle of thunder outside the greenhouse is suddenly ominous and it feels as if her world is beginning to cave in. The words repeat in her head over and over, like a broken salesman with only one phrase to passerby.

Your end is near.

Your end is near.

Your end is near.

*lacey's note:
So that's the end of this chapter. Honestly it took me a long time to write it. And I didn't even do this recently, I've been sitting on this for months lmao. Just deciding if I liked it enough, but now I leave it to you all to decide if it is good enough.

For a long time, I've wanted to start the Bestiary over again and change slightly the trajectory of the story, I initially liked how each chapter seemed to be it's own entity with a sort-of over-arching plot linking them all together, but the time jumpiness of it and how I felt it looked stupid made me rethink my decision.

This is my do-over basically. New and improved. More characters to flesh out Ruselm's story, not just one-time use throwaways, either. Recurring personalities that, hopefully, you all come to love or at least enjoy seeing.

I shall now provide some fun facts for those who've read to this point:

─ Gesmi Chivay is related to Zoltan Chivay, who you would know if you ever played the Witcher games!! I'll probably reveal the relation later.

─ Bliska was mentioned so so so briefly in the original version of this story, in passing I think. She'll be more prevalent this time around.

─ Nazair is known for blue roses. 🌹💙 But without much lore to go on for Nazair (if you do any research), you will see where I have made my own lore and decisions for the country. Such as the case of the Highlander clans (hello Outlander inspiration 👋🏼) and royal families being slaughtered by Nilfgaard.

─ Finally confirmed for everyone who didn't catch it in the original: Ruselm is in fact a prince by birth.

─ Female dwarves have beards. And they're beautiful, so if that doesn't align with your personal view on them just suck it up cause it do be my story broskis. I got inspired for this detail by "A Willing Heart" which is actually posted here on Wattpad (I'd have to find it to remember the author's name).

─ Melitele is real in this version. I was hinting towards this in the original, or was starting to, but right off the bat I figured y'all should know.

─ Melitele actually appears in 3 different forms (which is why her statues in the games in everything always have 3 ladies) which are a beautiful young maiden, a mature and pregnant mother, and an edentulous wrinkled crone. You can tell which she is in this chapter. 💀💀💀

Alright now that's all. I'm done with fun facts unless y'all want more. Hope you enjoyed! I haven't even started the next chapter yet.

Do you want chapters about this length? Or longer?