"Midnight holds much like an Ocean, it is a calling by the coasts, a taste by the shallows, and a pleasure of the swim towards the unescapable heart of it."
-Belladonna, Lady Luxury and Goddess of Debauchery
©
Ice kissed winds entered the carriage window to land on the cheeks of the Sailor, his face framed within attracting the snowflakes falling down The Graygreen province- tucked in a forest three mountains south of Dirge bordering the Grasslands of Banar and the Syrosh'jhaal Tundras up north.
Between the boreal forests of fertility; shadows of rock formations kissing by the tip form arcs of grey above the snowy road. The leafless branches of father pine reached up with his woodland children. A landscape washed under the subacrtic chandeliers of green dancing lights; and Ian'drah was counting each silhouette of night hunters deep under unlit canopies, the leading profession of the province reputable as restless and rampant.
Warmth trespassed him as well as the Silver Lady was draped by his side like moss on pine since the beginning of the trip, the night moves young yet bore fills his skeleton.
"Your friend was fairly tight-lipped though isn't he?" The Matriarch whispered, her fingers brushing through the Sailor's chest hair and down the seductive trail intersecting his navel. "As if he's a silent valley which makes your words echo within him indefinitely. All too reserved, all too hushed... He highly contrasts Lady Miriam's foul mouth you know."
Ian'drah had stopped his counting game, mind recollecting of Sion's eloquent cursing that morning.
The wheels trailed the frosted roads for an hour at least and the Sailor noticed how Drina often sneaks the conversation to Sion in the most innocent manner, the skills of a sharp tongue born with a silver spoon.
"Funny, growing up around petty politics made me understand how the silent ones among the squabbles are the most... dangerous."
Her blood moon lips crept up when the Sailor finally showed a sliver of attention at her.
"Danger is the last word to describe the likes of Sion, that lad could not even bring himself to hurt a fly."
"Though he looks like he would excel in doing so... hurting a fly." Malice crept up on her face as if thirst from intrigue took form as a smile.
"Drina, I share your worries on how Miriam is still dangerous enough to live among the Dirgeans but exceptions exist for her son." The Sailor bites down, he is aware of how Drina's cunning intellect hides beneath a spoiled noble façade.
"And how exactly is he different to be an exception from the latter? We know nothing of the thoughts lurking underneath your hooded lad, and you do well know that exception doesn't exist in the realm of the mind, Sailor, even in case of friendships." Drina crossed her legs, savouring this new-found power she had over the Sailor. Now she knows how to provoke the stern man.
"At times it is safer to not sail on untouched waters. There's a reason why such waters are untouched, mi 'lady- even in case of other people's friendship." Ian rebutted, he will do his best to not shed light on the entity of Sion to the likes of Drina.
For he knows well, how political gatherings are usually overflowing with tricky wine and blown-out gossips, and how Drina's purpose is to live to be the centre of it all.
"Well aren't you a charmer? then... is there ever a reason why you sailed through my untouched waters, Sailor?" She interlocked her fingers with his'; smoooth and tender over rough and calloused.
"We would be ignorant of the pleasures of the sea if no brave sailor dared to risk his life now wouldn't we?"
"How Romantic..."
An ebony gate darker than night shadowed their carriage, they are finally in Graygreen Castle. Each time anyone visits the castle it always looked younger in contrast with its grey and ancient motif.
Its walls spare a few snow blossoms and flowering vines to decorate itself this winter, all the fountains were frozen yet the grass still thrives through the snow. Spring comes and the rooves would be crowned with various flowers introducing shades of soft colours never seen before. Summer would make the vines grow wild with humid winds feeding the moss but when the Autumn season starts, the moss-covered castle would appear to be bleeding from the distance as green turns to red.
"Lady Drina Bluesaile of Dirge." A boisterous horn announced their arrival. The Castle plaza was compressed with people of 'importance' both rusted and young. From singers of Bardenburgh, Twinpeak nobles, Lords of Lands, and few Latemese merchants from Bead are in attendance- all of which sharing certain commonalities- both the endless depths of their pockets, and their eyes currently trapped in Drina's beauty. Of course, elusive stares savoured the Sailor's topless fashion as well.
"Find joy in the attention while it lasts, Sailor." Drina snaked her arms around his' as they walk to ascend a granite staircase. An indication of who's whom.
They reached the Castle entrance and two Frostguards opened the doors to unravel a scene straight from Inferno, making the sailor shield his eyes.
A tilted chandelier illuminated the wild decadence transpiring below; Sovenians were bathing naked, laughing and liquoring up the repurposed fountains of wine and ice. Long tables heavy with great slaughtered beasts, the carpeted floor littered with food, and the walls were made golden by the stain of piss.
Ian can't help but smirk out his disgust, thinking how the wasted feast before him could feed the slums of Dirge for weeks, he also thought of Sion, how the lad would be disheartened to find the Sailor in such party.
"Invaluable are the pleasures of the flesh..." Drina giggled as they walk past a noble on the floor mindlessly satisfying himself with one of the castle slaves. "And the pleasures are plenty... " he completed the Sovenian phrase.
They ascended again on a wider staircase escaping to a much silent hall, it was the Throne Room with a throne absent of its Kazer. A harpist played in the middle with nobles and businessfolks conversing in soft-spoken language. Beneath the gentle music and wine, Ian knew that these were the dangerous "men" that Drina spoke of.
"Walk straight with me and don't falter Sailor..." Drina instructed as they stride towards the deepest area of the castle.
They shortly arrived at the widest patio anyone could set their eyes upon, below it, Ian'drah could see the grasslands stretching far to the dark skyline.
A longtable under the stars is set in the middle, catering distinguished persons who established fame in and out of the Snow Country- in not so pleasant methods for some. Ian could quickly recognize a few, while some others he knows through notorious tavern rumours.
But like any battle-shapen men, he first noticed the strongest among them, A muscular beauty that stood from the longtable to kiss Drina on each side of her cheeks.
"Drina Sister, what a delight to see you all the way from Dirge."
It's impossible to not recognize the Golden Lady of the North- Geraldine Prudence. As expected, she's glowing from her golden gown that matches her honeycomb-raised hair, snow blossoms decorating her locks and her eyes, sharp enough to pierce through anything.
Geraldine's elegance may be soft to the touch yet her physique carries a lavishing menace, deemed large even for the sea-built Sailor. She also has this warm air about her which shows that she's born and bred in a different Country away from the brutal cold of Sovenia, and yet, she seem to belong.
"Oh my..." Geraldine stopped to stare at the Sailor like how a lady would eye a piece of thick jewelry.
"You never disappoint sister, who do we have here to join us?" her eyes travelled through the tall man's features. If looks could devour, Ian would be sailing in the Golden Lady's belly by now.
"Your highness, My name is-" a soft finger was placed upon his lips. A finger of royalty worth more than a Dirgean nobility's life savings, thrice.
"Wait, let me..." Geraldine stepped back, sizing him up in every angle, eyes travelling from lash to lash.
"Oh, what a creature you are..." she mumbled as her brown eyes went back to meet Ian's glacial ones.
"Judging from your rough hands and your..." the Lady licked the finger that was hushed on Ian's lips earlier.
"salty yet refreshing taste. You must be a Dirgean sailor."
"And according to some rumors..." she cocked her brow over Drina. "Dirge only has one young sailor who looks like a complete replica of the god Adastrielle himself- Ian'drah Dawnsnow is your name, is it not?"
"By all honours, I am too far compared to the God of Beauty. But yes, I am that sailor which you spoke of." Ian smiled to cloak his nervous state. But his words were confident for they were true.
"Nice to finally meet you, Hyden." Geraldine offered her hand, she's well aware that the sailor already knows her name.
"Pleasure is mine." He kissed the Lady's hand.
"Oh Drina Darling, I have much to impart with you, come join us by the banquet." She had lead them to the feast held on a traditional Sovenian longtable: a city of candlesticks lighting the collection of spirits and mead, alcoholic aroma enveloping the slain autumn beast plated at the very centre still steaming with thin smokes.
"About time you join us, cousin." A lad in black leather armour greeted as they sat down in their seats. The Sailor knows him well. The overseer of the Whiteraven Trading Company who puts coins in every Sailor's pockets in Dirge, the heir with a missing arm. Though he could just count up to five, he is a well-received mathematician who authored books that both Miriam and Sion had bought themselves.
"I see you've drained all the wine and chastised me, you dirty spawn of Zonas," Drina replied to the entrepreneur.
"My lady, since you feel 'chastised', might I Interest you with my robust company tonight?" A bearded mess of a giant joked from the table's far edge. Ian's breath hitched upon the sight of Captain Gorebones. The interventions as to why this notorious sea criminal currently dines with the Princesses and the Trading Company heir are beyond his reasoning. Even his wounds were still fresh from his recent encounter with Gorebone's henchmen.
"No thanks hound, I have a far better sailor to pleasure me tonight." Drina reached for the nearest wine, but her hand was slapped away by a lad sitting across from her like a toad on a pad of lily.
"Don't touch my favourite..." The boy hissed. Judging from the tribal tattoos aggressively patterned around his small arms and his pure white eyes. He must be a northern tundra native, descendant of the first men who migrated to Sovenia. Blood of the Frozen Queen herself.
"Give that to the Silver Lady, Young Bluebeard. All your tongues had enough glasses for the night." Geraldine warned. As if prodigy recognizing prodigy, Ian'drah observed how the bone necklace rattling on Bluebeard's neck are not of beasts, but of grown men. Already a doctrine Warlock at such a young age.
"Now, since everyone is present, let me commence a toast of celebration."
An all too familiar face stood from the far edge of the table, grabbing everyone's attention in posture of charisma and command.
Harinthal Graygreen, the successor of the entire province of Graygreen. His gray eyes and hair make him look older than his actual age, but it perfectly matches the age of his soul.
"For our clean victory against the Tyrant of Lonesome Isles, all in gratitude to our dearest Golden Lady, our leader..." He raised his glass towards the princess.
"May she be showered with immense fortune..." The Whiteraven heir raised his glass with his lone hand, Ian noticed a trail of hickey hidden from his neck- he enjoyed the party rather early.
"May the mountains pound her enemies..." The Bluebeard descendant raised his cup, still sitting on his chair like a toad.
"May the seas bring 'er safe voyage..." Captain Gorebones followed, his words almost came out gibberish with the food filing up his mouth.
"May she bring fairness to the oppressed..." Drina follows.
"May she breathe tomorrow's gentle breeze." A meek-looking woman joins as well, her long, fair hair of grey a few inches spared from the floor. "Nita." The sailor mouths her name.
"And may she be there with us until the last frost." Harinthal closed the traditional toast.
"Thank you, dear colleagues. That was quite charming." Geraldine gestured them to sit, seconds later, the table exhilarated again.
"Now tell me, Geraldine, what 'savoury' of sorts did you wish to impart earlier?" Drina held the princess's hand.
"Ah yes, an Ocmenian diplomat is scheduled to arrive by next dawn, and I'm surprised with how he chose to visit your province first out of all finer provinces Sovenia has to offer..." Geraldine speculated.
"Sister, it has something to do with the charms of my land, especially of its fine royalty." Drina flirtatiously glides her fingers down her waist.
"Well well well... I heard that his physique is somewhat of a bed wrecker, might want to test the rumours out myself before letting him reach your filthy Dirgean shores." Geraldine giggled out with Drina like a pair of lusty maidens.
"Oh! It would be a disappointment to the diplomat if he crossed oceans just to be greeted by that rotting golden clam of yours!" Drina lashes out in emphasis.
"Drina you silly dog!" The royalties howl in laughter.
"Speaking of bed wreckers, I must inform you, sailor..." The golden lady asked before sipping on wine to rehydrate from excessive laughter.
"Of what my lady?"
"This hag Drina shared some rather surprising tales about you. Pardon my brazen behaviour for our first meeting but, did they really call you Hyden because you first swam before walking as a babe?"
"That is entirely true your honour. I have no reason to lie in front of royalty, just ask all the folks back in our town and they'll say it's true"
"Since you can't lie in front of royalty, then is it true that you were able to quake Drina's bed until dawn?"
"Geraldine you queen of dogs!" Drina squealed, slapping the princess' sturdy arm.
"I suppose any sailor would lose track of time on bountiful water." Ian joked, earning him an explosion from the maidens.
"So it's true then isn't it?"
"Like I said milady, just ask all the folks back in our town and they'll say it's true"
While they burst into laughter once more, the Sailor reverts his eyes to the woman seated across from him- Amanita Greygreen or as he call her, Nita. Her dress is that of a humble night robe simple enough to accent her delicate beauty, but it basically conveys that she would rather sleep than party the night away.
She stared back at the Sailor with eyes holding the entire night sky above them. She then gestures over the west tower of the Graygreen castle that has soft smokes risinf from it's window. Upon seeing this, the Sailor nodded in acknowledgement.
"I'm afraid I'll have to retire to my chambers, have a good night ahead of you, everyone." Amanita announced, her voice may be soft and tender But when she speaks, everyone's attention is also held. A certain trait that runs with the Graygreen blood.
"This early? Sister, drink the night away with us while youth lasts!" Harinthal suggested.
"Brother, I'm afraid that with you drunk until tomorrow and with our father gone for a battle, no one would be fit enough to take responsibility for the province except for your little sister." She drinks a last sip on her glass. "Now, gracious ladies and men, if you'll excuse me." She then walked her way out, fingers pinched on her night gown.
"What a lovely soul." Drina commented as Amanita softly fades from their sight.
"Don't confuse lovely with dangerous Sister, she's still the one who poisoned the Tyrant of the Isles for us." Geraldine replied.