Once Lyra had managed to calm herself, at least to some degree, she remembered the other gift that Karen had given to her, the 'anonymous' delivery. She sat down slowly at the table and placed the small basket atop it. Lyra peeled the cloth covering back and set it to the side. She completely ignored the loaf of bread and immediately snatched the piece of parchment to its side. Unfolding it cautiously, she was instantly taken aback by the elegance of the writing it contained. The letters folded together so fluently she almost couldn't make out what it said.
Lyra Cain,
You have been summoned to the court of Danal'lee to vocalize your witness of the Red Knight. Transportation will be provided in Das'mahla in two days' time. You will be collected there. Be ready and on time. His majesty does not approve of tardiness.
Yours Truly,
Minister of Danal'lee Court and Duke of Red Rows,
August Stanley
The Red Knight? She recognized the name, every person, rich or poor, did. The Red Knight was a close companion to the Queen. If he was on trial he must have done something incredibly foolish.
It was rumored that the Queen had even bedded him and they were in an unofficial courtship. What could he have done that would betray the trust of the Queen to the point of a trial. But, she supposed, that was how all men were, wasn't it?
However, Lyra was sure she'd never met such a person. If she'd never met such a person, how was she suppose to bare witness at the court of the Queen, no less?
Lyra read through the note once more, then tucked it away in her coat pocket. Thinking more on the matter would only be a waste of time. It was a royal summons she could hardly ignore it. Or could she? Lyra let out a sigh. Enough on the matter, she'd dallied enough today, it was time to get down to work.
Lyra owned a small farm, along with her cottage. She grew regular crops of beans and wheat that she sold to the townspeople of Das'mahla. It was what sustained her for most of the year. When the farming season was over she'd work for the town blacksmith, forging blades and other various weapons.
Lyra stepped outside and walked the short distance to her fields of crops and began her daily caretaking routine. Farming wasn't one her greatest passions but it was a good source of coin when the nearest town she lived by was mainly a foresting county, meaning there wasn't a lot of land to farm on. Her other job, blacksmithing, was one she'd earned through perseverance and nothing but hard work. The blacksmith had been a kind man but had been against her helping him forge actual weaponry because he thought that she wouldn't be able to strike the metal hard enough to form it. That she wouldn't have enough strength. So at first, he'd hired her to make jewelry and due to her desperate need for another source of income, she'd accepted. However, this gave Lyra the opportunity to watch the burly man work day in and day out until she was sure she knew every step of sword forging like the back of her hand.
So when every day after a hard day's work he left to retire to bed, Lyra would stay behind make her own attempts at forging weaponry. She began with a sword. She repeated that same routine for nearly three fortnights until she'd almost forged a weapon of her own. It had taken lots of time and errors before she'd managed anything that even resembled a sword, but she'd done it. The day she'd finished her first sword, the blacksmith had come back to retrieve an item he'd forgotten and found her forging away.
At first, he'd been outraged and accused her of stealing his goods, but when he'd seen the sword she'd made his rage had fizzled out and been replaced with something resembling awe. She'd made a very fine sword, perfectly balanced and made from a cool blue metal that was hard to shape. He'd praised her and from that day on he'd assigned her to forge weapons instead of jewelry. She still kept that very first sword attached to her hip at all times, and it had served her well throughout the years.
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Once Lyra had finished her chores it had been nye noon and she'd moved from the heat of the blazing sun to her shaded and relatively cooled cottage. Lyra pulled a fruit from the bowl on her table and began eating away at the succulent apple. She then remembered the loaf of bread that had been sent as a gift and pulled it out of the basket still sitting on the table.
Lyra finished the apple and took a large bite out of the small loaf of bread. She instantly stopped chewing after biting into something that most certainly was not bread. Paper? She spat the bread out on too her hand and pulled a ripped piece of paper out of the mushy concoction. Looking at the loaf, she found the other half and began to pull apart the bread gently as to not ruin the parchment any further. Another note? Why would they send two notes? And why, for god's sake, was the second one in a loaf of bread?
Lyra attempted to piece the two halves together, but the second half appeared to be almost unreadable at that point. Sighing out loud, Lyra gazed at the untainted piece.
The parchment read something along the lines of...something, something-she lies. Something, something- be fooled. Something, something, something- protection
Lyra couldn't make out the other portion no matter how hard she tried, but it was clear that someone was warning her. Warning her about a 'she'. Great, she'd gotten a very important note and had basically eaten half of it. This must have something to do with the Red Knight. This wasn't just a coincidence otherwise why send this note with the other, and in different handwriting no less? She'd have more time to think about this later, but she had a more pressing matter to settle at the moment.
A matter revolving around a putrid, fat, little piggy.
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Lyra pulled her hood over her head as she neared the end of her four-mile hike to the village. Her weapon felt heavy on her side, as her feet sunk into the muddy road, coating her already worn boots in a thick layer of grime.
It was almost dusk.
She'd sharpened her sword and put on her leather padded armor, which had cost nye a fortune to make, in preparation.
Lyra could just see the outline of the Das'mahla in the quickly darkening horizon. She picked up her pace. The last thing she needed was to be late for a challenge she initiated.
As Lyra reached the village she strode down the main street and followed it until she saw the familiar blue serpent on top of the only bar in town with a fighting ring, the Sepharant.
The moment Lyra walked in she knew the news of her challenge had spread almost inhumanly fast. There was a large-no an enormous- crowd of people that surrounded the fighting ring where Pete Grastly stood confidently, his rotting teeth flashing to his audience.
As soon as she began to move through the crowd of folks, people began to recognize her and part a path, whispering to each other.
She's here. Will she really fight? That's not something a woman should do.
She should know her place and just accept his proposal, she won't get much better than that.
The whispers of the people filled her mind. She'd always known that she wasn't the average woman and she'd defend that title for as long as she could because an average woman was one that got taken advantage of and she wouldn't let that happen to herself again.
At last, she reached the final stretch and strutted directly into the ring with no hesitation. She was sure of herself, of her ability to win.
"Glad ye' could join us pretty little lass. Now, why don't ye' jus' put down your pretty little sword and come here so we can sort this out, when ye're on ye're back." He let out a loud bellowing laugh, the crowd joining in.
"Over my dead body," She said pulling her sword from its sheath and pointing the perfect balanced blade at the greasy man, "or rather yours."
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