Sorceress of the Second Sphere

4. For the Realm - Loldirr

Frivolities and flickering candles were two things that Loldirr revelled in as she sat at the head table in the halls of Ravenscourt's keep. With each smile as the various lords of Ravenscourt and warlords of the Fæordic came eagerly to greet her, she was grateful the dimmed lighting and excessive alcohol hid masked what was truly behind her returning smile.

She had dreaded this day for some time, barely touching the large trout that lay lifeless on her plate. Staring at its dormant void of an eye, Loldirr felt drawn to its soulless gaze, a gaze which felt like a mirror towards her essence.

A slight brush of the hand of Erdudvyl had brought Loldirr back to reality, staring up at the stern figure of Knight Inquisitor Count Ithelred. There was no smile for him, and nor did there need to be. With a quick salute from the middle-aged man, his fist hitting his breast and a nod of the head, he had already progressed towards the end of the table to sit as one of Ethelston Darke's head guests.

"Are you ok?" Erdudvyl asked, her blue eyes showing genuine sorrow.

"Not really," Loldirr replied, picking up the two-pronged fork designed to assist with dismantling the trout.

Erdudvyl wanted to comfort her but knew it would be futile. She knew why the red-haired huntress sat in despair, for the revelations of this night would impact her life forever. As the elf delicately took a small piece of her fish and placed it between her soft lips, she couldn't help but wish she could do more for her friend. Yet, for what was about to transpire, it was all human politics, something that she could not get involved in.

Loldirr watched the Fæordic warlords, how Hrok Thjodoflsson and Sigurd Halfhand felt the need to express their masculinity through an intense arm wrestle, and how the other warlords were in high spirits encouraging them on. She longed to feel the euphoria that they felt, the excitement of their rashness, the desire to do what they please.

Turning her head to the knights of Ravenscourt, she realised that they were no different. That their frivolous actions were second nature to them. It was at that moment that the truth hit her. It was not that she was a noble, or that she was one of Isovine's elite, it was because she was born a woman that her thoughts were plagued with frustration.

She was trapped in what was considered a feeble body and as a result, she was trapped in the world of men, to be used as a political piece for someone to benefit from. In reality, though, she was by far the strongest one in the room. She was the only one to survive and kill a Death Wraith, she survived her execution at the pyre of Lionmane and she fought and survived a dragon and a Sorceress of the Elements.

Survive. That's all she had done since the last winter, and that was likely all she would do for the next one after this great announcement would be made. Surviving, to her, though, was not living.

Lord Ethelston Darke, sat on her other side, the bags under his eyes showed the lack of sleep he had been receiving as a result of securing Ravenscourt and the wounds inflicted by the Widow Maker. As Loldirr glanced toward him, she could feel that his plight was similar. The once free, fearless mercenary, now sat as the Duke of Ravenscourt, chained to duty and honour. If it wasn't for the actions that he had taken for this day to come, Loldirr would pity him, yet as she searched within herself, she found resentment.

Scolding herself, she focused on the eye of the trout once more. That resentment she felt, was all too familiar. It was the same resentment she had for her late guardian Edric, Ethleston's father. Edric, like Ethelston, had only one thing on his mind, and that was what was good for the realm. It cost him his life, and it wasn't until after that Loldirr could appreciate what he had done.

Ethelston was now doing the same. His actions and decisions, despite being detrimental to the Elemental Sorceress, were for the good of the realm. The pain he was feeling right now, was not of the body, but the soul. Today's decisions weighed heavily on him.