I was asleep for months. Not in the literal sense; The part of me that hungered for power, magic, and freedom, from the cage that was the laws of men, remained dormant. It hid beneath the surface of Myr, the eternally, unquestionably, and fanatically loyal handmaiden of Baroness Surian Redstone. And that would be her name, not Vinlan. The baroness had lofty aspirations. She wanted it all, Farketh, Vinlan, and Redstone. Enough land for her to petition the emperor for a change of title, enough to become a countess.
I had risked too much in too short a time, and though I served the lady in all things. Eyes watched me, guards, servants, anyone and everyone were waiting for a single mistake, a single slip-up. I felt them around me as if in anticipation. So no, even when I had opportunities to eavesdrop on her magical lessons with Elis, I remained steadfast in my role. A day like today was the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop. I stood outside Elis's quarters while they were in the middle of training. Surian had been frustrated by the lack of progress.
Still, I stood away from the door, unwilling to break from my role. Eventually, the door opened, and Surian bade me to enter.
So absorbed I was in my performance that I didn't even glance at the stack of five gilded books on Elis's desk. Nor did I try to decipher the paper with odd lettering. My eyes were for my mistress and my mistress alone.
"What is your desire, Mistress?" I asked as she sat in a chair in front of the desk. Elis watched me without emotion, then pulled out my quill. I didn't even blink at it.
"Curious thing this is." She said, watching me.
I didn't respond, only nodded.
"Emyr; unfortunately, no information about his existence was found. This quill, though, was amongst a few stolen items from the Magisterium. Over forty years ago, this item went missing; since then, its design has long since been outdated. But it is still worth gold. Care to guess the price? " Elis speared me with eyes that demanded I respond.
"I'm not sure, My Lady, a few dragons perhaps."
"Almost eighty, a hundred if properly refurbished with a more impressive feather. Almost twice the value of the stolen jewelry." Elis said, amused.
'I was carrying a fortune this entire time? Again, did Emyr know the value?'
Even with my performance, I couldn't hide my surprise.
"Returning such an item demands a reward. Tell me what you desire." Surian asked.
‘I want to learn magic; everything else is meaningless. But it's not like I can ask that.’
My gaze wandered over to Surian, looking to her for approval. Asking for nothing would be too odd. There was only so far selflessness could go before it became disingenuous and suspicious.
"Can I have the feather? That's not magical either, is it?" I asked.
Both women stared at me, surprised by my suggestion.
‘For what were they searching? Perhaps they expect me to ask for something expensive. Coin meant little to me.’
"Why the feather? You know the value of the quill. Gold, jewelry, fine silk. I can be rather generous." Surian inquired.
"Emyr may have been a thief, but he gave it to me for nothing. I would never have had the courage to leave my village if not for him. I'd like something to remember him by." That wasn't exactly correct, but it sounded believable to me.
Surian looked at Elis, who shrugged and said, "It can be arranged. In fact, I'll commission another quill."
~
I expected Surian to be cruel, taking advantage of her position to torment me for no other reason than her pleasure. As life taught me, nothing ever goes the way I expect. I was her tool now, and so long as I performed my function, I was barely worth any regard.
I sent messages, helped her dress and undress, fed her, and kept everything in her room orderly. I was as perfect a maid as I could be. However, as the weeks passed, I became so dedicated that the other, lesser maids grew to fear me.
One such maid, a girl perhaps fourteen summers old, with brown hair and a slender build, nondescript. She was new and assigned to clean the living area of Surian's chambers. I, of course, checked over their work. I walked about the room in my new dress. A fine, dark silk piece tailored by someone in the keep. The uniform was easily worth twenty or thirty silver. Of course, it was all black.
I searched for any flaw I could find. I rubbed my finger under the edge of the dining table. It came away with dust, and a sneer stretched across my face.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice filled with malice.
The girl looked at my index finger, eyes filling with dread as I approached her.
"It's, it's." She stammered.
"What would have happened if the Baroness decided to sit for a meal in a white dress?" I asked the girl. She stammered unintelligibly. I would not tolerate anything less than perfection.
With a vicious backhand that echoed on the walls, she fell to the ground with a pained yelp. She kept her eye downcast, unwilling to meet my gaze.
"Clean it properly," I ordered. Her cheek was already swelling. There was a good chance I opened up a cut in her mouth. She nodded frantically, her fear causing her to shake uncontrollably. I slapped her again, even harder. I didn't enjoy punishing the girl. It was a chore, like any other. Surian demanded perfection, and I wouldn't deliver anything less. In fact, she approved of how I treated her other lesser maids. I didn't care enough about them to even memorize their names.
"If you repeat your error again. I won't be so kind next time."
How I treated them was how I expected Surian to treat me. But I realized that it would be rather moronic of her. Having a personal handmaiden who hated you was a recipe for betrayal.
I watched her work, her thin form shaking like a leaf. Fear was a rather potent tool. The power I exerted from my position as her maidservant was, at times, enjoyable. However, my pleasure was marred by a bitter aftertaste. It was power given from the extension of the Baroness, not my own. If I fell out of favor with Surian, I would no longer have any leverage to act as I please.
As the suspicion around me faded, so did my importance. I never spoke with the baron again; the first conversation with him made me feel like he genuinely valued my thoughts, but in the end, to the nobility, I was just a peasant. Though I did learn much since I served Surian in the war council.
I attended meeting after meeting with her father, her generals, as they planned the war with Farketh. War wasn't like in the stories; once declared, it could take months for liege levies to arrive, supply lines to be established, and troops to travel. It was boredom incarnate, and for the first time, I began to look down on people who were supposed to be my betters. Titles, Lands, Alliances it was all meaningless in the end. It was not like you could take it to your grave. All this planning, coin, effort, and lives spent; for what? What did all this work mean in the end?
The shortage of iron was a convenient justification for a war they already wanted. Eventually, this forced me to examine my motives. What was I pursuing power for in the end?
Eventually, after days of contemplation, I realized. There was no justification. I wanted power for power's sake. When I walk past, people should fear my wrath. I don't need a reason, nor did the Baron; he wanted something, so he made steps to take it.
I thought of all the commoners whose lives will no doubt be affected. What would they think of their plans? Then I tossed the thought into the midden with the night soil. Their opinions didn't matter; they were powerless weaklings.
‘Power is self-justifying and self-actualizing, it does what it wants went it wants, because it can. It bows to no king, queen, empress, or emperor. Morality, holiness, goodness, righteousness- all meant nothing in the face of true power. You can be born with it, work hard to achieve it, or be granted it.’
‘
For those with no power, the only way to achieve it is to risk everything and be willing to sacrifice anything, even your own life. Most importantly, it was to hope, beyond hope, that you get lucky. Then ruthlessly capitalize on that luck. Anyone not willing to put forth the effort was undeserving of any sympathy.
‘
That's why I showed no mercy to the girl. She was weak and had not a backbone in her body. There was no plan in her to better herself. She would work herself to the bone. Perhaps marry a stable hand, and if she doesn't die during childbirth, she will nurture the next generation of cattle.
‘That will not be me. It is success or death, no compromises.’
~
The war was intensifying, and fighting was escalating along the borders. However, it would still take a few more months before the casualties started to mount. Surian was heading to Vinlan to negotiate with her mother. If she could bring her into the war, then Farketh's defeat would be little more than an afterthought. I didn't really understand the relationship between the family and nor did I care. Farketh would be facing a fight on two fronts. East from Redstone and North from Vinlan; if she could convince her mother. Elis was even accompanying her. The negotiating power of a magus couldn't be underestimated.
I was just excited to leave the castle. The planned departure time was after the Eight-Day.
"You may have tomorrow and the Eight-day for yourself," Surian said, to my utter shock.
"But the preparations." I tried to decline the supposed gift.
"You have been consistent with your duties; this requires a reward. Do not contradict me." She warned, brokering no more arguments.
I shut my mouth and bowed deeply. "A thousand thanks, Mistress."
'Two days to myself. What do I do with that time? I suppose I can visit Darion, Beth, Hewit, and Yarah. I could use a break.'
~
I walked through the gates of the keep in the early morning to start my day off. It was odd to be outside the castle. Only now did I realize how much tension I was under, mostly self-inflicted. The walls were stifling, and I yearned to be free of it. Yet they bound me simply because it was as close as I could be to magic.
It came as a surprise that I grew nervous as I approached Darion's Dish. Fortunately, the men out front recognized me and didn't stop my entrance. It was as busy as ever. I spent a few moments feeling nostalgic before an excited voice shouted my name.
"Myr!" Beth said with excitement. She tried to walk over, but her large stomach made her less agile than usual.
"Hello, Be...", she wrapped me in a hug. The patrons and other maidservants politely ignored us.
"It's so good to see you, especially after that debacle. Come. Sit, sit, sit." She said bringing me over to one of the tables meant for nobility.
"Stay right there, I'll get Darion," She said, waddling off.
I spotted Hewit from across the room. He gave me a smile and a wave, but he was busy serving drinks to people at the bar. He pointed to a familiar bottle, a question in his eyes. I grinned and nodded.
Darion and Beth came walking over. He already had his hands out, and I wasn't so callous as not to hug the man.
"My dear, it's good to see you. Not to worry, I have my boys making a proper feast for you."
"It's good to see you both. It's been stressful."
Darion laughed, "I can imagine."
"Tell us how you've been," Beth demanded.
I looked at their smiling faces and felt strange. They were the same, kind, and considerate. But I was different. As I told them my story, it felt hollow, as if I were telling them about someone I read in a book. The Myr they knew was just that, a story. A fiction they created for themselves, I molded my actions to fit that story. If they knew the real Myr, the selfish, self-serving murderer, then they would reject me. But for today, for them, I would pretend. It was the only gift I could offer.
‘I can almost see it, my entire life stretched out across decades. The lives I will take, the cruelty I will inflict on others. I cannot remain amongst them. Beth, Darion, I hope you live long and healthy lives. I pray your child grows strong and carries on your legacy. But this will be the last time we see each other. The Myr you know is long dead.’
I sighed, remembering I used similar words when killing Clark. Would I have to change my name again?
~
We talked for well over an hour before I prepared to leave.
"Are you happy, Myr? Beth asked. I was near passing out from how stuffed with food I was.
"I think so. At least I'm content. Time will tell."
"You know if you ever want to come back, the room hasn't changed," Beth said, her eyes searching.
"I know, but I think you should use it for something else," I said, nodding to Beth's stomach.
"Have you seen Yarah yet? She's to be married in a few months," Darion said.
"I haven't, but that's why I got some Arbor West. I'm determined to drink her under the table."
"How long will you be gone?" Beth asked.
" It's three weeks on the road and at least a month's stay. So, at most three months, but it's not like I have a say,"
"Well, when next you return, you will have to try my newest creation; it's still in the works, but it will take over the city once I'm finished."
Before I left for Yarah's house, I went into my old room and searched the armoire for my dagger. Surprisingly, it was still there. Though Darion and Beth did inform me that it had been searched.
"You need a belt, one for the thigh, I think. So, I can hide you under my dress." The blade needed some polishing and sharpening. Even now, I could remember what it was like plunging it into Clark's back.
The flame that remained smoldering within me for months stirred. Excited. Eager. Hungry.