2023-08-02 Dance of Swords - Wik

To the keeper of the Hidden Thorn, the invitation began. An invitation to the Court of Harmony, sealed with a mark that could only have come from one person. A musketeer, briefly met as we worked to retrieve a cutting of feylac.

What does she know of a false face? My mask... slipped, when we were chasing the Wild Hunt. But there were no others in the wood to see that. And I can't imagine the Lord of the Hunt sent word to Queen Merla.

But all the same...

Maybe harmony is what I need right now.

Astra, the beautiful winged unicorn, met us when we arrived in the Court. Us being:

Myself, wearing Dulgrun;
Raine, carrying the same viol she had found in the Temple;
Glade, who's excitement seems to have given way to resignation;
and Forfeit, who had seen me post a notice asking for help.

I had to be careful with Raine. I'm grateful she agreed to come along, after I mentioned that Cechec spoke highly of her.

It seems there are few others that I'd trust enough to ask.

And fewer still I'd trust to know, and be known by in turn.

Astra led us further into the Court. Travelling is different, there, as it always is. The pixie and sprite we picked up made the journey seem shorter. Forfeit was blessed with their art upon their arm and leg - if Yom had seen them, I think they would have fallen over at how precious they were.

Maybe I should have asked Yom and Rux to come with me instead. I could have taken them to the Court of Harmony, as they took me to the Courts on our journeys. Maybe they would have liked that.

It wasn't until I mentioned who I was here to visit that I got a name. The First Cantor.

Daisy.

And before long, we met her. She was waiting for us across a bridge over cool, emerald water; her bright green hat fletched with three feathers, her beautiful rapier sheathed to its honey-gold basket, her small bouquet of daisies in hand.

She waves to us, as we approach, and for the first time I feel as though... I am seen. I'm never summoned, let alone summoned to a Court of the Feywild, to one in service to the Queen. And never by one so...

I gather myself, and introduce our party. "Thank you, First Cantor, for your invitation."

"You are welcome. And you may call me Daisy, if that is easier."

"Oh. Thank you. I do not like to presume, when it comes to names."

She smiles at the remark. At least, I think it is a smile. There is something else, floating beneath it. She gestures to her side, off of the path and into the forest along the river that we had been following since our arrival. "There are many places left unexplored in this Court, and few residents. Why don't we go to the Heart, where we can speak in private."

The Heart is a gazebo, its pillars made of thick, woven branches. The ceiling is open, and we all look up to the canopies of the trees above our heads, the sun beating on our necks.

"Dulgrun. What... what exactly happened to the feylac, after you were here last?"

The question catches me off-guard, and my voice catches in my throat. I do my best to explain, all the same.

"And... did you know her name? When you came here last?"

"Yes. Oriniax."

A figure, hidden in the shadows of the trees, steps into the light. The revelry is gone from his form; his jaw is set, and his eyes are staring directly at me. Kruxeral's questions are more pointed. Their barbs are far sharper. His intent is far less kind. "We already know that the Horn was blown, that a number of adventurers went on a ride."

"I... I might have heard the Horn. And if I did, after it was blown in the Feyverge Valley, we rode until we arrived in the Winter Court."

"I see. And who else was with you? If you heard it."

"Kavel Castiron, Zola Oussviir, Lolli. Kavel's big. Zola has one eye and two swords - yes, normally that's the other way around. And Lolli is a harengon? Usually wearing a very pink dress, with many sweets."

"I see." He looks to Daisy. Or maybe, Daisy looks to him. He is clearly deeply upset with Dulgrun. And she is clearly deeply concerned as well, her hand resting upon the hilt of her sword.

Is it at the ready for me? Or for me.

Luckily, I do not find out, as Kruxeral casts one more glare in my direction before turning and leaving the gazebo.

"Is that all? If I was just to be dressed down, I could have done that alone. It would have been less humiliating."

Daisy breathes out slowly, looking across the faces of the members of the party. "No, no. That was only part. You must see that... the only time we've given out a branch of the feylac, a being we've not seen in an age returned.

"I do no- My Queen does not wish for your impression of this Court to be Invitation, Interrogation, and being sent on your way. It is Shieldmeet, is it not? I know you may not follow the practices and teachings of our lord Corellon, but this day is very sacred to us. I would invite you to stay, to partake in some of the festivities that happen here. They are about to begin."

I must be wearing my discipline on my sleeve. "The Master of Revelries has other duties and won't linger, if that would be a worry," she quietly adds, looking in my direction.

"And, some of us are well versed in the Dance of Swords. I could teach you, if you like? Some see it as a more courtly dance, but I think it shows the mettle and steel of any warrior."

I reach into the corsage at my wrist, and in a fluid motion draw the rose at its centre out to reveal The Hidden Thorn in all its splendor. Daisy mirrors the motion, drawing her own rapier too.

"First, we lay our swords on the ground..."

It doesn't take much instruction before I've got the steps memorized. It's different, to be certain, but the fey are like any people - their dances shift and change and inform each other, and I've done my fair share of dancing with the fey. Our feet move deftly between the blades, bounding from toe to toe. Our eyes remain locked, as though there were not knives by our feet. And with a final bow, we end the dance.

I reach down to pick up my sword, wiping the small amount of dirt off of the steel before slipping it back into the empty sheath I carry. Daisy does the same, her gaze passing over me with a newfound interest. "You took to it so well. Better than I had expected. Are you sure you aren't fey?"

Lessons over, we walk a bit further over stairs and under statues to arrive at the festival grounds. Tents and stages and stalls cover the plain, broken only by small copses of trees that bend gently in the summer breeze.

The others bound off to take part in the revelry. Raine takes to the stage, singing from the heart and conjuring a blade in midair. Forfeit takes to the stage too, their umbrella becoming a quarterstaff as they being speaking of pasts and pains. Glade, though, wanders to the side, finding a small ruin from which to hold aloft a tuning fork.

But I hold an elbow out to Daisy, who accepts it as we walk amongst the fey enjoying these days of Shieldmeet. Days of fairs and bazaars, of music and theatre, of tournaments of skill and magical ability.

"Daisy?"

"Yes?"

"Why... why did you stand up to Kruxeral?"

She breathes deeply, considering the answer. "Because the Queen asked me to. It is my sworn duty to protect the Queen's Heart." A small, sly smile. "Even if he doesn't want it. And I remember our conversation from last time. I know you didn't know who you were helping. And you deserve a chance to make things better."

"I see. Thank you, all the same."

"It is my pleasure. We have time - was there anything else on your mind?"

"Well.. yes. I wondered, with your sigil being the daisy, if you... if you'd met the previous wielder of my sword. You seemed to recognize it."

Another small, sly smile, but with a note of sadness. "I did not have the pleasure to meet your predecessor, but I knew the one before her. It's a lovely blade. You wield it well."

I nod, lost in thought. "Your title.. The First Cantor. Does that mean there are others? Like you?"

"There are. My sisters. In fact, The Second Cantor should be visiting soon. Now, come. They are about to begin the dancing tournament, and I think we can win!" She grabs my hand, and we run towards the grounds. With each step, our rapiers jostle in their sheaths, catching the midday sun, and reflecting motes of light in the eyes of any that might be watching.