The Dragon's Daughter: Celandine's Tale (Introduction)

• Posted by Arthur Keen November 5, 2011 - 630 views

  By Akatosh, I hate the cold, I truly do. And what I'm experiencing now? It's many shades deeper and darker than the most unpleasant frost-chill 'pon bitter, brittle bone. Never the finest scholar, I'd struggle to tell you at what temperature water freezes to ice, or even how best to keep the fine white wines we so favour around the Iliac. Suffice only to say, that I - Celandine Venande - am colder than I ever thought possible.

  If you'd been raised like I have, you would be too; the kingdom of Wayrest is a pleasant enough place to be destitute, but for those of us born unto privilege it's practically paradise. Deliciously warm during the best of the summer months, when winter sets in we experience only crisp, refreshing snow between bouts of rainfall that, shiver-inducing though it may be, serves more to enliven the land than housebind the populace.

  My father provided well for my brothers and even for I, the solitary, undesired daughter. Perhaps that sounds too bitter, but it's true. Though less than forgotten, this family mine has been upon a gradual fall from grace during the long, laboured centuries. It doesn't take much, a trifling comment here, an askance look there, and one's position in court can suffer regardless of one's efforts to the contrary. But, you know? I actually enjoy our particular notch upon the social ladder. Enough that we are comfortable, without the weight of responsibility dragging ever upon our enjoined shoulder. My father... he feels otherwise.

  Why, then, would he wish a daughter, destined only to bring a meaningless dowry and lose his name to another? I grant you; there are many arguments that may persuade him. May, indeed, were it not for my own peculiar temperament. I am fit to be no man's wife within the courtly game of kings. I have long run close in my brothers' wake, maintaining what pace I am allowed to maintain as they have trained for their desirable destinies. I can swing a blade or - Akatosh forbid - my dainty fist, with as much aplomb as any rambunctious boy, albeit one not gifted the advantages of a suitable mentor. I've taught myself, because while I may be noble born...

  My self is the greatest asset I possess.

  There are those who disagree. Which is how I come to be here, in this thrice-cursed frozen wasteland, clad in rags; with dirt and a barbarian's savage paint upon my aristocratic face. My father would be so proud. Ha! He might in the least be glad - for his ploy to send me away from home, freeing from betwixt his feet my ever-impatient form, has driven be as far from any concept of 'home' as I might plausibly be. I'm not in Wayrest any more, daddy. Will I ever be? I've been branded a criminal and... something more...

  Where will I even begin to relate this tale, when the time comes? It seems but yesterday that I felt listless, bored and frustrated with my lot in life, encouraged only by the dimmest tastes of freedom I have been allowed. Well, my friend, if friend you are; it seems only yesterday because it was, by point of fact, only yesterday.

  Time is losing all meaning for me, a fact that is fitting enough. When better to begin, then, than now?

  Gather thee close, stranger, and hear my tale...