TVisTV Book 4: Chapter 6 (RAW) (Patreon)

Chapter 6 - Northern Dining

“Those who have enough money to eat and wear can afford to talk about vulgarity and refinement.”

- Aphorism from the Empire.

You have slain an Ice Drake. 432 experience gained.

You have learned Crystal Spear (lvl.3)

Not bad, she thought, letting the pink crystal spear dissolve into nothingness. Not bad at all.

Four hundred and thirty-two points of experience was almost enough to make her consider hunting more of the sacred beasts, cultural significance to the Tribes or not. Then, of course, there were the two thousand or so experience points she had gained from the slaughter of the Cronir. By any reasonable estimation, it had been a profitable little outing.

Seraphina turned to her escort.

“I will be returning to the keep. See that the bodies are processed. Hire whoever you must, and promise them a share of the hides and materials as payment if necessary. Sir Ironhide will escort me back. The rest of you will remain here and make certain the work is done properly. There is a small fortune lying here in animal carcasses. Do not waste it. Especially the Ice Drake.”

And with that, she mounted her borrowed palfrey.

A small fortune, of course, was an understatement. It was also the sort of statement that neatly delineated the gulf in status between them. Sir Ironhide, still slightly stunned, found himself following her back toward the keep, muttering under his breath. No doubt he was already trying to devise a suitable way to explain the entire outing to the Duchess.

Once they had arrived back at the keep, Seraphina spent a few minutes in the Warming Room afterward, shedding the cold by degrees as servants attended to her like some prized animal. Not that she needed such care with her Constitution, of course, but she enjoyed the ceremony of it. The warmth. The fussing. The quiet affirmation that she was someone to be served.

She vowed to make the most of this interim period, sheltered as she was within the relative safety of her grandmother’s seat of power.

Once she had been properly “warmed,” Seraphina summoned one of the servants—a small, nervous thing whom a quick use of Identify informed her was named Delilah Brittles—and had the girl lead her to Desdemona.

She found Desdemona de Savant in a drawing room, working quietly on a piece of embroidery. The little hoop showed a bouquet of summer flowers set against a field of green. To Seraphina’s sense of aesthetics, it felt terribly off-season.

“How was your little outing, Sera?” Desdemona asked without looking up, her attention fixed on her needlework.

“You could say it was invigorating,” Seraphina answered sweetly, a small smile touching her lips. “I do believe we shall have more than enough food to last the winter. I hope you enjoy Cronir”

“Hunting?” Desdemona finally glanced up. “I thought you were only going out to get the lay of the land. Though I dare say there is much to see, what with all of it covered in snow. But Cronir can be quite passable if properly cooked. I do not, however, care much for gamey meat.” She gave a delicate little shrug and returned to her stitching. “Hunting… I myself never cared for hunting. I always thought it more of a manly pastime. You should not take away too many of their duties.”

Seraphina had to stop herself from snorting. “Perhaps so, Desdemona. Perhaps so. But it passes the time.”

The blonde girl took up a hoop of her own and began choosing thread from the basket beside them.

“What piece are you planning to make?” Desdemona asked.

Seraphina considered the question for a moment, sorting through half-remembered images from her old world before settling on Monet’s Water Lilies. It would require a great deal of long-and-short stitching, but that was part of the appeal.

“Oh, just a little thing I once saw in a garden in Meridian,” Seraphina said with a smile. “I wonder if I have the skill to recreate it.”

Together, the two girls worked amiably. Now and then, they spoke of small things. Light things. Things of no consequence. Food, poetry, the serving staff—but decidedly not boys. The wounds from their recent losses were far still too fresh for that.

Slowly, the sun began to set. Just as Seraphina had started to finish her outline, there came a polite knock at the drawing room door.

“Enter,” Seraphina allowed.

One of the servants entered—Miriam, if Seraphina’s memory served—with her hands clasped neatly before her.

“The Lady Duchess requests your presence for supper.”

“Very well. Tell my grandmother that we will be there shortly,” Seraphina replied, setting aside her nearly completed piece. “Come now, El—Desdemona. It would not do to keep our gracious host waiting overlong.”

“Why, of course, Seraphina. I am positively looking forward to seeing what victuals they can prepare in the north,” Desdemona replied sweetly, running a hand through her dark brown hair.

No doubt there would be a reckoning for her earlier actions, Seraphina thought as she prepared her defense.

Now, while the Ice Drakes were indeed sacred, there were no actual prohibitions against hunting them. More importantly, she had followed the letter of the concessions the northern tribes had once granted her ancestors. In fact, one could also argue that she was well within her rights to hunt them as a member of the northern tribes herself. She was fairly certain that, according to the records, her great-great-great-great-grandfather had taken a tribal wife. If the rumors were to be believed, it had not stopped there across the generations, which probably explained why everyone in these parts seemed so damned towering and intimidating.

So, in theory at least, there should be no problem at all. No problem at all.

Once they had readied and freshened themselves, the two girls made their way through the keep, with Miriam walking just ahead of them to open doors and smooth their passage.

They were led to a small dining room not far from the main kitchens, where one of Seraphina’s long-forgotten ancestors stared down from oils and canvas with a suitably judgmental expression, his gilded wooden frame gleaming faintly in the crystal light.

A blue Zajasite candelabra hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room against the closing night and casting everything in a cool, crystalline glow. Like all such lights, it represented wealth. Then again, the Duchy of Carcaronne was famous, among other things, for its crystal Zajasite mines.

For just a moment, Seraphina felt a faint resonance between herself and the blue lights. A small, humming buzz beneath the skin. She dismissed it almost immediately. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Her gaze shifted to her grandmother, seated at the head of the table. For a moment, Seraphina almost imagined that she saw more strands of grey in Lady Adelaide’s hair, and perhaps a few fresh lines around her eyes.

“Sit, little Sera,” Lady Adelaide invited with a small sweep of her hand. “I had the chefs prepare some of your favorites.”

Before them, the table had been laid with the quiet excess of a Great House house. Platters of roasted land crab sat cracked open and steaming, their pale meat glistening beneath melted butter and crushed winter herbs. Beside them were thick cuts of fresh Cronir, seared dark at the edges and pink within, rich with fat. There were saltwater fish as well, imported at no small expense from the warmer southern coasts, their silver skins crisped over beds of autumn vegetables. 

Yet the centerpiece was unmistakable: the Ice Drake, served raw upon a broad tray of carved ice, each translucent slice cut so thin that the blue veins of the meat shimmered like frost trapped beneath glass. It was beautiful and placed directly before Seraphina as if the entire meal had been arranged around a question no one had yet dared ask aloud. 

The girls took their places according to propriety, with Desdemona seated to Lady Adelaide’s right and Seraphina to her left.

Seraphina’s grandmother allowed the silence to settle over them. Only when it had grown properly heavy did she give a small nod, indicating that they might begin.

Servants moved at once.

Desdemona chose first with perfect delicacy, taking a little of the saltwater fish imported from the southern coasts, along with a modest portion of winter greens and roasted root vegetables. She praised the fish with the proper amount of surprise, as if its freshness were a charming miracle.

Seraphina, for her part, allowed a servant to place a few thin slices of raw Ice Drake upon her plate, along with a sliver of Cronir and the smallest portion of land crab. She did not begin immediately. Instead, she picked at the food with her knife and fork, cutting the Ice Drake into smaller pieces, watching the translucent flesh curl slightly as it warmed against the hot plate.

It was not that she lacked appetite. Rather, she could feel her grandmother’s attention upon her like a hand resting lightly on the back of her neck.

Lady Adelaide did not eat at first either. She merely lifted her cup of crimson wine, took a measured sip, and looked at Seraphina over the rim.

“I am told,” the Duchess said at last, her tone as dry as aged wood, “that you had an eventful afternoon. My sworn men tell me you culled enough of the herd to feed the keep for several weeks, if not the rest of winter.”

Seraphina kept her expression bland and placid. “I believe in efficiency, Grandmother.”

“Sir Ironhide was certainly impressed by your efficiency,” Lady Adelaide returned flatly.

“Oh my,” Desdemona said, her eyes widening with poorly hidden mirth. “Has Seraphina gotten herself into trouble again?”

Seraphina wanted nothing more than to kick her under the table. Then again, even if she broke something, Desdemona would probably be right as rain in a few moments, this close to the full moon. Fortunately, the blonde girl managed to restrain herself.

“Yes, Lady de Savant,” Lady Adelaide said, savoring a thin slice of Ice Drake. “Little Sera has indeed gotten herself into a small spot of trouble. Haven’t you, my dear?”

Rather than rise to the rather obvious bait, Seraphina elected to court silence.

“My woodsmen also tell me that a tribal war party is on its way here. It seems word of your activities has travelled far and fast. We can expect them by tomorrow, perhaps.” Lady Adelaide sighed, though there was more irritation in it than surprise. “Since what is done is done, I decided we might as well enjoy it. Who knows what sort of price they will demand? So eat your fill, Sera, and stop picking at your food.”

Seraphina felt a blush begin to warm her cheeks. She looked studiously down at her plate and renewed her assault upon her meal. And, despite herself, she could not deny the urges of a growing teenage body. She wanted food. Quite a lot of it, in fact. She only hoped all the additional mass went to the right places and not around her stomach.

“That’s right, Sera,” Desdemona added wickedly. “You might as well enjoy life while you can.”

For one brief moment, Seraphina swore she would get Desdemona back in some small and suitably vicious way. Then she realized that was precisely what Desdemona wanted. Attention. She would refuse to give it to her.

“Tomorrow will bring what it does,” Seraphina said instead. “As my lady grandmother knows full well, our family is permitted to hunt whatever crosses the ice—”

Adelaide’s hand slammed down upon the table. Cutlery jumped. Plates rattled. One of the servants let out a small cry of surprise before hastily smothering it.

“Within reason, Sera!” Lady Adelaide snapped. “Within reason! Ice Drakes, holy to the Tribes, do not, I daresay, count as within reason. Nor does leaving half the hunters with nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs all winter!”

She drew in a sharp breath, then turned her attention to Desdemona.

“I hope Seraphina listens to you. Perhaps you may provide some good counsel to my granddaughter. She has always been headstrong and prideful, and could do with a friend willing to pull her away from the more dangerous paths.”

Lady Adelaide took another breath, this one slower, centering herself by force.

“No matter. I will deal with it, just as I dealt with your father’s messes and his poor choice of a wife.” She lifted her cup, as if that settled the matter. “Now then, let us enjoy the rest of this meal. Tell me, Desdemona—may I call you Desdemona?—a little about yourself. I must say, I had no idea you were such good friends with our Sera. They say the women of your House are rather formidable.”

Poor choice of a wife? Seraphina inwardly smirked. Half of her father’s victories had been due to Anaselena’s counsel. The girl had to mentally stop herself from defending her mother, even inside her own mind. The witch served only herself.

And yet, Seraphina could not help but notice the peculiar instinct people had to defend those of their own tribe, especially family, when they were criticized by outsiders.

The de Savant girl played with the tresses of her hair before putting up an image of demure, polite refinement. “So they say, Lady Adelaide. We draw much of our strength from the moon.” 

“The moon? How rather fantastical. Apparently, would you know, my son was ‘chosen’ by Sera’s mother by her ‘Sight’. Unfortunately, our Sera has not been so gifted by the so-called Sight,” Lady Adelaide said dismissively, waving one hand through the air. 

Of course Desdemona would know. And, although her grandmother had opposed her parents’ marriage, King Elidion had been very much in favor of the match. With Anatoli set to inherit two duchies, and his daughter destined to wed the Crown Prince, the arrangement made sound political sense in the long term.

“The people of the south put too much weight on vague oracles and tellings. Dust for the masses and a ruse that will not work on me. They mistake inference for true vision. If I drop a stone, it will fall. Simple as that. Don’t you agree, Desdemona?”

“As you say, Lady Adelaide,” Desdemona replied neutrally, smooth as watered riverstone.

Seraphina kept her expression fixed, allowing the vague tongue-lashing to wash over her. Her mother could see the skeins of the future. More importantly, she could manipulate them. Whatever tellings she had given Seraphina’s grandmother had no doubt been designed to obfuscate. But for what purpose?

A small voice in her mind whispered that it might have been for a moment exactly like this. But surely her mother’s powers had limits. Limits Seraphina knew all too well. But, then again, in the original storyline, Anaselena was already meant to have died, nothing more than a tragic footnote to Seraphina’s own tragic backstory. But here, she was very much her own agent and placing her influence on the scales of power.

The dinner continued in much the same manner, with Seraphina left to stew and feel suitably sidelined. It turned out that Lady Adelaide had already hired tutors to instruct them in the etiquette of the Empire and its language, a development that somehow managed to be both useful and mildly irritating.

Now it was simply a race to see which problem Seraphina would have to deal with first; the tribal war party, new tutors to break in, and now, her grandmother’s disapproval.

And stupid Desdemona’s smug little smile.

But, as Lady Adelaide had said, she was better served focusing on enjoying her dinner. And then, of course, there was always dessert.