It seemed my tears brought me into a deep, dreamless slumber.
The complete exhaustion of a poorly slept night, combined with the shaking of the carriage against the rocks and the anxiety of being inside this small, confined space, for the first time away from every member of my family, mixed with my erratic tears and sobbing which I at first tried to disguise between sounds of knocking my feet against the wooden carriage and coughing, eventually brought me to fall asleep on the comfortable seats which housed me for these long hours.
I woke up as the carriage came to a halt, my head, which was once safely against the seat, now suddenly crashing against my knees as I fell to the floor, confused for a second as to where I was and how much time had passed.
The guards found me on the floor. The kinder one, who had a small chat with my family, opened the door with a concerned face, eyes searching the seat to then slowly descend to the floor, where I gave him the most sincere smile I could muster and accepted the hand he offered to help me up and out.
I had not realised how much my legs hurt until that moment, one step sending me falling down, caught by the fast-thinking man in front of me. I could barely manage an apology, having lost my ability to speak due to the shame of being found in those circumstances. He shook his head. "Do not worry, Miss Olivette, it's perfectly normal to feel this way once you're far away from home for the first time."
"Oh, please do not call me Miss Olivette, Linnea is just fine. And it's hardly the first time, it's simply the first time completely alone. It feels odd somehow, I haven't cried in so long… I hope to not have disturbed your journey too much." I overexplain.
He smiles and shakes his head, as if to say I do not have to worry about having disturbed them, but the cheeky glow in his eyes seems to find amusement in my discomfort with the situation, as if he knew of a joke he refused to tell me. "Yes, I saw you play yesterday, I heard something about the band, it was a very nice show, different from the music we have in the capital." He says, changing subject. "Good different, I mean."
I thank him, filling the silence between us before it settles. "You have shown my sister a lot of kindness. She was so excited to receive a gift from the royal family, may I ask what was in the chest, if you know?"
"Did you know in the other Sekturs there's a stereotype of Dravians as being curious and pretentious about their own knowledge?" He answers my question with another.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "I do, actually. I learned about it when I first began travelling with my brothers' band. At the time I actually was a much more pretentious, but just as curious, 13 year-old, trying to break free from the absolute hold my brothers had over me through our tours, though, of course, I understand that protection now. I used to go around asking the Sektur elders about their lives and stories of when they were young… I wrote them all down, too. At the time I wanted to be a writer, but I've never had the patience to sit and write." I explain, trying to pretend I wasn't annoyed that he didn't answer my question.
He seemed to pick up on my annoyance anyway, because this time I can see an actual cheeky smile grace his thin, reddish lips. "There were beauty products, shoes and a dress for your mother, a new set of evening clothes for your brothers and father, as well as history books covering the Kingdoms of Asturia and Valeria for your father, and a vast array of fabrics of all colours for your sister, who is apparently a talented seamstress at such a young age."
I laugh sincerely, thinking about how Sybbie's eyes must've sparkled when they landed on the expensive fabrics that were gifted to her. "She's definitely talented, and incredibly confident in her own talent and intellect for someone so young, though I imagine this was a gift she inherited from my mother, as well as her natural Dravian genetics."
"So has your family always lived in Dravia? Even before through the Five Queens?" He asks, helping me get my luggage towards a little cottage hidden in the woods of what must be the border between Dravia and Caladia, due to the way the air changes to a more bite-y type of chill and the sky seems less clear.
"No, not before, but we've been here for a while. My great-great-great-great grandfather was from the UnLands, back when the desert was vast and mostly uninhabited. He was part of a nomad group, who moved to Dravia in the beginning of Astrella the Brave's Reign, in 457. He met his wife during the trip to Dravia, they were from similar nomad groups." I explain. "Our family history is very important to my mother, that's where our Nomad side comes from. What about you?"
The chill air makes my lips dry, and I run my tongue on top of them to warm them up a bit, as we make our way towards the cottage door, which was left open by the other guard.
"Crowyn and I are from Galadrya, the not-so-bad part of the Sektur. His family grew up really poor so he's not much of a talker." He smiles. "He's still growing used to life in the Capitol, it's a big change for us."
I nod. "You still haven't told me your name."
"You didn't ask."
I look down, ashamed of my sudden lapse in manners. "Right, I didn't, I apologise."
"I'm just teasing. I'm Gregorym." He places my luggage down on the living room as we make our way inside the much warmer interior of the cottage, and I hurry towards the fire.
Behind us, the door closes, and I notice it was Crowyn making his way outside from the smallest hint of a blue cape before we're left alone in the living room.
"He's going to get the horses to the stables and the carriage settled. Very good with animals, that one. I'm hopeless around them." He laughs, his jovial humour surprising coming from a Galadryan man. "He'll likely have a smoke while he's at it."
"We always try to stop at Galadrya when we're on tour." I say a few minutes later, trying not to sound rude as I change the subject. "There isn't a lot of money to be made, but there's community, and that matters a lot to my brothers and I. You're not quite the usual Galadryan man, you know? Everyone there seems so serious."
He nods understandingly. "Yes, my parents were like this as well. Always serious, always worrying. They passed when my brother and I were 8, we had to fend for ourselves for a while before being taken in by my mother's family, who were on the other side of the Sektur; a completely different universe. They were more in touch with our roots, we're half Tygg, even if our lands don't exist anymore since the annex. We used to live by the river, before Galadrya was part of Celestia." He explains. "People on G are always worried about where their next meal will come from, parents will do anything to give their kids a better life, work themselves to the bone. Of course, it didn't use to be like this…" He trails off, eyes wandering around the living room as if someone could hear him. "I'm very grateful for the job I have now." His back stands a bit straighter, shoulders square and face tall. He doesn't seem to be saying this to me, but to the silent walls who watch us. I understand there isn't much he can say.
Slowly, I raise a hand towards his left bicep. Through layers of heavy uniform, I can feel the warmth emanating from his body. The same warmth I have, the same warmth my family has. In that moment, I feel like, regardless of everything, we are the same. "I'm sure your parents would be proud of you."
We stand in front of each other for a minute or two, my hand on his arm, an understanding of what it means for both of us to have gotten so far.
Until the front door opens once more.
There, gloved hands rubbing against each other to ward off the cold, stands Crowyn, an inquisitive look on his face. "You guys hungry? One of the staff was outside chopping wood to get started on dinner."
It didn't occur to me how hungry I was until the mention of food. I nod, grabbing my backpack and one of the luggage. "I could definitely eat, but I think I will heat up some water for a bath first." I state.
"Already done. They saw us coming and got started. Bathtub's full in our quarters and yours, Miss." He states, looking at Gregorym but speaking to me.
"Oh, I appreciate that, please thank them for me."
"You can go and get cleaned up first, Crow. I'll help Miss Olivette with her bags." Gregorym states, getting my other luggage and starting to make his way upstairs.
There was, of course, no need for all that, but this was a man who seemed to enjoy being needed, and I wasn't about to take that away from him.
Luggage well-placed, he rubs his hands on his uniform before excusing himself, leaving me in a room more luxurious than any other I've ever been, under the sound of birds retiring to their nests, calling their little ones to sleep.
I make my way towards the bathing closet, a spacious room connected to my own chambers, where sits a porcelain bathtub painted in pastel colours, full of nearly boiling water, making me wonder how many people worked to create my comfort. I try not to ponder too much, as I do not wish for the water to run cold while I'm lost in thought and would rather take a cold bath than having to inconvenience these kind workers once more.
Ripping my clothes off my tired and sticky body, I sink into the flower-scented water and let the warmth sink into my bones, hair wet and feet finally getting a good soak.
The water is slightly oily from the scented bath-oil which smells like a mix of lavender and wildflowers, little puddles of oil still swimming around, unbroken, through my fingers. Next to the tub, stands a small wooden table adorned with a white embroidered towel and a silver tray, where I can find soaps, scrubs and sponges. It brings a smile to my face to see scents of wildflower, chamomile and green tea, very popular in my Sektur due to our vast forests. They remind me of my mother, and of the kit of her handmade goodies which awaits me in my luggage.
I finally start moving, after what seems like a good 10min of soaking the travel away, hoping to not be consuming too much time but knowing the boys will likely take turns with their baths, so that gives me a bit of leeway.
I decide chamomile is the best choice, scrubbing the sweat off my skin with care and patience, not being so used to taking my time with a bathtub that is only mine and no one else's. These small luxuries are so difficult to fully grasp.
After spreading the scented wildflower scrub all over my body, taking greater care than usual to get perfectly clean and perfumed as to cause a good impression on the workers and the guards, whose first impression of me was as a crying, bloated mess, I make my way out of the room and start to dress, finding it has been furnished with body creams and oils as well, no doubt in a conscious effort of the Queen to have her staff be as polished and presentable as possible.
Some of those creams, the unopened ones, make their way into my hand luggage, as I do not know what time we will be leaving tomorrow and if I will have time to take another bath before the road. The soaps and scrubs will join me as well, with the embroidered white towel being the only thing I make a conscious effort not to nick away.
They're all so tempting, these little treasures. They seem so regal and expensive. It is hard to believe they now belong to me, that I can actually make use of them and they won't disappear, this life won't disappear. I need to take them with me, so I can remember they're real.
After hiding my treasure stash, guilt creeping into my every thought, I put on the light linen dress and the green scarf, enough for the weather we're currently experiencing in the outskirts of Caladia, and my trusted pair of boots, and make my way downstairs, where chatting seems to be taking place as per the voices I hear.
As I descent the stairs, feet feeling heavy through the tiredness which consumes my body, the chatting begins to turn to laughter, and after looking around through the main hall and what seems to be a half-study half-library, I follow the sound of chatting till I find two young girls giggling to each other as they exchange glances near the door of the sitting room, switching their gaze between the companion next to them and the men sitting straight on the chaise lounge on the other side of the room.
I do not mean to annoy them, but they notice my presence before I have the chance to say anything. "Good evening, Miss." Says the girl on the left. If they are sisters or friends I cannot tell, for they are very similar to each other, sporting shoulder-length brown hair and chestnut eyes. The girl on the right quickly straightens her back and bows her head to me, one second after her other-half, feet almost perfectly in sync as they fold their knees in a small incline, a gesture that should be reserved to those of much higher importance than me.
"Good evening. Pray, are the guards inside?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"Yes, Miss. They wanted a quick smoke and a drink before dinner." The one on the left explains, as the girl on the right sizes me up, eyes going from bottom to top then bottom again as she attempts to measure the person I am.
"There's no need to call me Miss, Linnea is just fine. Thank you, I appreciate the information, I believe I will join them. Will dinner be long?"
"About 15 minutes, Miss." Still the girl on the left speaks. I begin getting confused with their similar faces and posture.
"Wonderful. And what are your names, pray tell?" I ask, more cordially than necessary.
"Grace and Honour, Miss Linnea." Finally answers the one on the right, Grace.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you." I smile.
"I remember you, Mi… Linnea." Honour corrects herself. "I've heard you and your brothers play in Caladia, months ago. My father greatly enjoys your band."
"That is lovely to hear. I'm glad we were able to give you a good time, your work must be so stressful. My brothers will be coming back on the road in a few months, once they find a replacement for me." I assure them. "I hope you'll be present at their showcase once more."
She nods quickly, before I excuse myself to walk into the room.
Crow stands up as soon as he sees me, a glass of something left on the table and eyes serious as his eyebrows scrunch together. Gregorym takes his time, taking a sip of his drink before standing up, a smile on his face as he looks between Crow and me.
"At ease, soldier." I joke. "I am merely looking around until dinner, please do not let my presence disturb your evening."
I make my way around the room, approaching one of the shelves of books, hardened editions of beautiful novels old and new, written in expensive ink. Their covers tell stories of places I couldn't even imagine existed, real stories and fake ones. Their titles written in gold foiled calligraphy. Encyclopedias, Dictionaries, Fairytales, Dramas, Plays… I wonder if the family has read all of them, or if they're just for decoration. How many generations of Oceana rulers have swiped through the pages of these books? How old are some of these copies?
Some of the titles I recognise from my father's study, or from his long monologues which mention stories from yesteryear, it is odd to think that some of these first copies might even predate the Five Queens, passing from royal hand to royal hand since Bortal the Peaceful, or even before.
I dare not touch them, my fingers simply hovering over the titles as I read them and stare at their intricate covers.
"I imagined you'd be a reader." Gregorym says, his heavy steps approaching me as he leaves Crowyn alone by the open window to finish his cigarette.
"A much better reader than I am a writer, I must admit." I laugh. "But yes, although I've never been a fan of the traditional Celestian fairytales. I have been reading some dramas from Asturia and they're simply fantastic; their writers have so much passion for the exploration of human nature, it is as if they know me, as if they can read my thoughts."
"I understand what you mean, my mother's family preserved their Tygg roots, so many of us can still read Old Astur-Huryan, although I must admit mine is very rusty, especially in terms of reading, but I can speak quite well. The Old Kingdom was known for their passion for human study and dedication to the connection between humanity and nature, how we're all the same at the end." He explains, running his fingers through some of the titles as he searches for something.
"From ashes we came and to ashes we shall return." I quote. "My father loves this quote, he starts every new semester with his students with it."
"Your father is a wise man. Lord Grylmor was the name of the Astur-Huryan author who first wrote it; it has since become a popular farewell saying in Galadrya. Grylmor also wrote this, it's worth a read." He says, fingers finally stopping on one book and snatching it out of the shelf. He hands it to me, the cover a dark shade of blood-red, Between Two Worlds. "Grylmor is fascinating because he lived through the conquest of Galadrya, but was born about 10 years before the war even started. So he saw the Kingdom start a war with Adamanya the Warrior, lived through a famine in childhood and speaks in the novel about the prosperity that followed, but also about the erasure of settler-tribes like Tygg and Knox, and the disappearing of their language at the expanse of annexing into Celestia. It was the first book entirely in Tygg I ever read; much like me, he was half-Tygg."
His love of the novel leaves me speechless, as he does not seem like the type to be so passionate about literature, but it warms my heart how human he is behind his cool facade. "What was his final thesis, then? That Galadrya should've stayed with Asturia?"
He shakes his head. "He has no answer to this question. He merely speaks about what he witnessed. Poverty, war, famine, then prosperity; then erasure, genocide, shame. Prosperity can look different to a lot of people, I suppose that's what's interesting about this novel." I hold the novel tight in my hands and smile, knowing I might just sacrifice my sleep tonight in order to read it. "This one's not a first edition, they won't mind if you borrow it. Take it on the road with you, it might help with understanding how your life is about to change."
Before I can answer, a little bell rings near the door, and Grace and Honour stand there, uniforms clean and tidy and smiles on their faces. "Supper is served."