KGWrites

Iona

The Village, Spring District, Kingdom of Aldiron

At the edge of the great Storm Borne sea, on a cliff edge looking out to the ocean, sat the two tiered city of Aldiron, the capital city of the kingdom under the same name. To the north were wide fields of furrowed farmland and lush green forest, while to the east were rolling low hills of vineyards and mills, separated from the city by a strip of dark green woodland.

A small village of homes, businesses and stables stretched around the outside northern and eastern walls and follow the two main roads outwards from the city, like Aldiron’s roots searching for water. Above them, separating the city proper from these farmlands, were great walls of stone, standing over three stories and wide enough that four men could stand abreast on them. Every so often the wall was strengthened by the presence of an imposing tower, giving a view down out from the city and also down into it.

Within the walls, the road beyond the eastern gates rose upwards quickly, forming rising a bridge that linked higher into the city. Off to the side of this and descending into a network of streets and shanty houses below the bridge, sat the Winter District of Aldiron. Dark, muddy and oft forgotten, the Winter District was the city’s largest, taking up two thirds of the massive lower wards of Aldiron. It was home to workers at the docks, farmhands outside the walls and any other poor or wayward souls of the city.

Further around, the last third of the lower ring was taken up by the Autumn District. Richer and better maintained than the Winter District, Autumn was home to inns and traders and to the city docks and their warehouses. The streets were cobbled here, unlike the mud-streaked warrens of the Winter District. The district was also home to the “Spring Stairs”, a wide stairway that led upwards through the inner wall and into the districts beyond.

The inner wall was taller than the outer, but no less wide. Stretching down to the sea at the coast side and rising up to five stories on some edges of the Winter District, it kept the poorer districts separate from those up the cliff, enclosing them in a canyon of wide stone walls.

Beyond that wall lay the Spring District, rich housing and merchants made themselves at home here, and a turnback staircase descended to a second, smaller dock enclosed between the inner wall and the sheer cliff the palace stood on. The rooftops here were often orange and red tiles, and as the city caught the rising morning sun, the upper districts almost looked to be aflame with the light.

Ringing a thin strip between the Spring District and the peak of the cliff was the Summer District. Home to noble estates, wide tree lined promenades and barracks and training yards of the royal forces, the Summer District stood as the barrier between the city proper and the palace above it all.

At the very peak of the cliff, looking down over all Aldiron, was the Falcon’s Nest Palace, the royal keep. A central grand keep surrounded by small gardens, walled yards and outer buildings and expanding outwards and upwards in towers and turrets, some of which hung suspended from the cliff edge above the sea, it struck an inspiring, and imposing, presence to all Aldiron.

But beyond the palace, back down into the Spring District on the eastern edge, was a wide patch of green parkland. At its centre was a small village, a town within a town. And at the centre of that, leaning her back against a carved chunk of granite on the outside of the village stonemason building was a young woman.

She was dressed in fine clothing, long dark breeches and a green shirt, pulled tight with a dark leather corset belt. The leather was stitched with symbols of silver falcons in flight. A symbol matched on a silvered necklace she wore. Contrasting strongly against the dark forest green of her tunic was the woman’s hair, an inferno of flaming orange that blazed around her pale, freckled face, a face currently tightened into a frown.

“It’s not fucking fair!” She fumed, causing the other woman with her to whip her head around to check they weren’t overheard.

“Iona!” She hissed, half sounding angry and embarrassed and half chuckling at her friend’s outburst. “We’re in a place of the Gods.”

“I know Violet, that’s why I said it.” Iona replied, turning her head to look at the nearby statue of a tall strong figure, a hammer in one hand and the other holding the hand of a small child. Neither figure had features that could show any gender or expression, a stoicism Iona found herself envying. “I’m hoping The Builder hears me and bashes my head with Their hammer for my insolence. Gets it over with.”

Violet chuckled, tilting her head to regard her friend with a curious expression, her ocean blue eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s just rumours that I’ve heard Iona, no truth to it. No-one’s actually going to force you to get married to Marius. I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”

Iona turned her head slowly to look at Violet, chewing her lip in frustration. It didn’t surprise her that Violet didn’t understand, it was different for her. She had beauty, with her platinum blonde hair, pale unblemished skin and beautiful blue eyes that had more than once haunted Iona’s own dreams. She had nobility, daughter of Lord Martyn Hills. And she enjoyed the politics of court, the gossips of who was seen with who, of marriage alliances and knights and nobles. Things Iona barely found any interest in.

“Because unlike the gossip you and the other girls get caught up in around the palace, when gossip hits the people of the city about me, it tends to be believed.” She tilted her head back to look at the sky, orange hair spilling backwards to light the stone behind her ablaze. “And then half the time it ends up coming true in some way. No matter how I feel about it, about Marius. Hell, no matter if I like men or not.” She growled, half to herself. It wasn’t as if she kept her feelings about men to herself, or even like the kingdom frowned upon her preferences, it just never stopped them preferring their fantasies over her feelings and choices.

Violet clicked her tongue, rising to her feet and smoothing her blue dress. “Maybe, maybe that’s true. But I’m pretty sure that you of all people might just be able to get your father to ignore this particular story. As… unpleasant as it is.”

That last part was strong with sarcasm, and more something Violet had meant to say to herself, Iona knew. Violet, like most young women at court, would have killed for a marriage pact to Commander Marius Fridolf. He was the son of Grand Marshall Caestus Fridolf and a heroic soldier in his own right. Attractive, charming and noble, he truly was the kingdom’s sweetheart. Iona knew he was a truly desirable match, it was just a shame he wasn’t her desirable match.

She was about to respond, to offer to get Violet some time alone with Marius, if only to get these damnable rumours off her own back, when the heavy footfalls of someone in heavy armour dragged her attention away.

A young knight was approaching, his helmet tucked beneath one arm revealing dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. Iona knew him quickly, Reynard Junice, a soldier new to her personal guard, and still believing it an honour rather than an annoyance. He came to a stop a few paces away and attempted to sweep his long green cloak behind his back to bow, a move stunted by the cloak catching on the scabbard of his sword, causing him to stumble slightly in the bow. Iona and Violet exchanged a look, and both had to look away quickly again, Iona focusing on the knight’s pauldron rather than his embarrassed look and hearing Violet stifle a giggle off to her side. She bit her lip again to keep from smiling.

“Sir Junice?” She asked by way of greeting, waiting for the response she knew was coming.

“I- The morning’s getting on Princess, we should get moving back to the palace.” He stammered slightly, managing to regain his composure from the trip. Iona raised her eyebrows in surprise, impressed at how well he recovered. She found his eyes and brought a smile to her face.

“Relax Sir Junice, no-one is bothered about a slight trip.” She reassured him. “Of course, you’re right. I lost track of time there, I’m sorry. However, Lady Hills and I would still like to pray to The Physician before we leave.” She locked eyes with Violet, whose shoulders sagged as she sighed in frustration. There was a clear message in that look “Again?”. But still she stood and hooked her arm into Iona’s, smiling at the knight even as Iona felt Violet give her arm a short, sharp pinch.

Junice’s face flashed with confusion and concern. “The Physician? Is everything alright Princess? Are you both well?” Iona’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled slightly, surprised and ready to chastise the knight for questioning the Princess. But Violet spoke first.

“Everything is fine Sir. Just a few… womanly issues to pray over is all.” She spoke pointedly, though not unkindly. But still it was enough to fluster the knight into stuttering out a quick apology and scratching his head in embarrassment again before turning and returning to his station with the rest of their escort.

Violet led them past a statue of a figure with a long beaked mask and a bag of herbs at their side and into the house of The Physician, a hut rich with the smell of dried herbs and remedies. Inside, Iona whirled to face her friend.

“Womanly issues?” She asked, stifling a laugh as Violet sat on a bench with a giggle.

“Shut up. It worked, didn’t it?” She replied. “Besides, it’s cute when your big tough royal guards get all embarrassed like that.”

Iona laughed and shook her head, approaching one of the windows at the back of the little hut and opening the shutters, revealing a small stream behind and then a group of plants and bushes before the park gave way to the rest of the Spring District. Then she reached down into her boot, lifting out the sheathed dagger carefully stowed in there which she then tucked into her corset belt. Behind her, Violet loudly sighed in annoyance.

“Why am I doing this? I’m the one that has to answer for letting you get away with it. Again.”

“Because you’re my best friend, and you want me to be happy?” Iona responded hopefully, before being met with a stern look from Violet and shrugging with a laugh. “Alright, maybe I can get you and the fine Commander Marius into a room together? Just for a talk of course, he’s to be my betrothed after all.” She teased before faking a gagging sound and Violet laughed.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Princess, we both know we’ll be lucky to get out of our chambers without constant guard for a long while after this.” Then she waved towards the window.

Iona swung one leg out of the window and was about to follow with the other when Violet called out again.

“Iona! Hair.”

Nodding, Iona realised that her beautifully groomed hair was still spilling out in great fiery waves across her shoulders, nice and easily recognisable. She looked down at her outfit and ground her teeth in frustration.

“Fuck, no ribbon.” She looked up at Violet again, forcing her best pleading face. Violet rolled her eyes and stood, reaching up to her own hair and untying a silver ribbon from one of the braids it was tied in, causing it to fall into a messy loose tangle. Then she walked over and pulled Iona’s hair up, probably rougher than she should have, before tying it into a simple ponytail behind her head.

“Thank you.” Iona said simply, grinning at her friend before leaning forward to quickly kiss her cheek. Violet hummed in response and fixed Iona with a stern look.

“Be careful Iona.” She said simply before stepping back, giving Iona room to swing her other leg around and drop quietly out the window.

“Course, always am.” The princess responded, prompting a scoff from her friend. Then, as the morning sun struck the city of Aldiron afire, Princess Iona Ravellan sprinted down through the park and into the streets, eager to escape and find herself some excitement.