Tale of Two Hearts

[_RoyalCrafter_ 5285]

 

 

 

“THOUGH THE SPRING FLOWER WITHERS AND THE FRUIT OF THE TREE FALLS TO THE GROUND, MY WORD LASTS INTO THE EVE OF THE WORLD, AND THE FRUIT OF VIRTUE CANNOT ROT.” 

(VIRTUE 6:2)

 

Love cares not for the boundaries drawn by man. It moves quietly between them, uninvited and unrestrained, acting upon the two souls it finds most fit. Love casts its will among those souls binding their spirits, oft against their own design. And from thenceforth, those souls remain joined, unburdened by obstacles or decree, for love is a power neither crown nor creed can command.

 

It finds its way into the most guarded hearts, slipping past reason and duty alike. It has no respect for the creations of societal concepts. It tears down the confines of noble structure and lineage. And in its wake, it leaves both ruin and radiance — depending on who tells the tale.

 

And so it was love that chose two, unknowing souls who believed themselves to be most unworthy of connection— one bound by her blood of nobility, and the other bound by his commonhood. No herald announced its coming, and no omens foretold its arrival. Instead, as sneakily as a fox in the brush, Love sparked between the two, showing itself in the small hours. The familiarity held between glances and gentle words grew into something beyond what duty could hold.

 

The steel hierarchy of society, placed by man and filled with the whispers of judgement, would never understand such a bond. Yet love never needed man’s permission to exist.

 

So to them, love cast its tendrils of light upon the spirits of Nuvilta and Kajus, in defiance at all that sought to keep them apart.

 

---

PART I - BLOOM OF IRON AND FLOWER

“AND SO I HAVE PLACED INTO YOUR HEARTS THE BLESSINGS OF ABUNDANCE: THE VIRTUOUS WEALTH OF THE SPIRIT.”

(VIRTUE 2:5)

 

A simple man, that is the only phrase he could describe himself with. An understatement to those who knew him well but he felt simple, he did things as needed done with what meagre means he had. When his siblings were hungry he fished for them, gathered for them, dug around the dirt and shrubs for them. When his mother was ill, he took over the fields; holding a bundle of wheat by hand and bending down and harvesting it under the hot sun with a hand scythe. His work was simple and his reasons for it were simple: to not go hungry.

 

However, as he grew older things got better in some ways but more complicated in others. He was hale, labours came easier than they did before and thus so did food. But it was when he was entering his early teens that he started to learn the capriciousness of others. The merchants would raise prices of grain in a famine, forcing him and others to spend every last coin to get through it. Guards, their superiors and their lords above would squeeze every last droplet of goods and productivity from the people and the land. Kajus always experienced this, it is only when he became older did he actually see it, and it bothered him. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, this sort of injustice never sat well in his stomach. But after a few punches to the face after yelling at some particularly unscrupulous brutes.

 

From then he learned his lesson, to keep quiet and avoid trouble. As his siblings got older and able to take care of themselves, his physical burdens lightened once more but discontentment stewed within further with no room to channel it- until a fortunate circumstance. Having caught the eye of a blacksmith, Kajus was taken as an apprentice at the age of 14.

 

Then for many years he practiced his craft, stoic and steady on the outside but each strike channeled his frustration, and such continued until it was time to depart the continent of Aevos. As he looked back from the riverbanks of Silasia, he did not feel a sense of regret, nor when he looked out to the sea did he feel hope. People would be the same everything, regardless of new landscapes.

 

He was proven right for a time as he kept on forging basic equipment in the forested castle of Sterhal. Till one day a peculiar figure caught his attention. Or rather he had caught her; the lady Whitewood.

 

‘She’s brash’ He thought at first. ‘She’s far too proud’ Kajus watched her force her way through to his forge, insisting on learning the art. He rolled his eyes inside his head, seeing Nuvilta nothing more but another noble. However over the course of many days the heat of the forge began to strip away those outer layers of arrogance, revealing the steely maiden beneath.

 

For perhaps it was through stubbornness and spite that she returned to his forge everyday but it is through determination she practiced the grueling art. Kajus found himself admiring the lady and earnestly teaching her and in turn she earnestly learned.

 

 

And earnestly she did learn. 

 

At first, Nuvilta’s visits to Kajus’ forge were out of stubbornness. An act of pride, to prove that she was not like any other highborn lady, or an incapable  fragile scion of a noble, she was a proud Silasian woman. She had long had experiences of being underestimated for her gender and station, but this time, she would not allow a common man to tell her what she could and couldn't do, and she wouldn’t do so through the abuse of her station, but through grit.

 

And so she made the stranger teach her his art in forging, under the  guise of simply helping with the workload of preparing for a voyage further in searchlands to settle. With each rise of the sun, she would arrive at the forge dressed in old clothes that were not suitable for a noblewoman to wear in public, dingy and on the brink of falling apart with one pull of a thread. With his instruction she entertained sitting out of the way to just observe him, until he allowed her to handle the tools. She showed up knowing that she couldn’t give up, for if she did, the man would mark her as one that backs down when told to.

 

Yet, with each passing day, that clang of the hammer and the scent of smelted iron became something strangely familiar, almost comforting. What had once seemed foreign and a passing interest, began instead to pulse with a rhythm, alive with purpose. And in that rhythm, she found him.

 

Kajus was not like the other men she had known within halls of feigned  courtesy or on battlefields of bruised prides and burning tempers. There was no pretense in him, no need for ornament. His words were plain, but deliberate. When he spoke of his craft, it was with a passion she had recognized in herself. 

 

She had never entertained the idea of courtship, let alone be drawn to a man such as now; her duty to her people had always come first. At first, she mistook it for curiosity. But curiosity waned, and she still found herself returning. There was a peace to his company, and a warmth that lingered long after they parted ways.   She found herself noticing the small things about him. From the way his eyes shone a deep brown in firelight to the faint traces of a smile when she surprised him with her progress. Each detail became engrained in the repository of her mind. There was only so much longer she could go denying what had begun to take root.   What started as stubbornness had become something gentler. Something she dare not name. For though she carried herself as someone above such sentiments, her heart knew better.

 

 

Soon the smith's thoughts came to be occupied with more than just the monotony of his life: wake, eat, work, kill time, eat, sleep. He would think of ways to meet with Nuvilta and have them do something together. Whether it was to hunt something together to feed the keep, to smith, or have a friendly meal, anything would suffice given enough pretext.

 

He however knew that the more time spent together the less the pretext would hold. And he realised more everyday that he had come to grow fond of Nuvilta. And for such he felt guilt.

 

He was just a commoner, he could offer much to a lady of his same station as a blacksmith of skill. But to a noblewoman? The heiress of the county no less? He cursed his greed. For though he knew he could offer little he still sought her out and enjoyed her company, stealing her from others in quiet peaceful moments. Her sharp features were more refined than any blade he had ever forged, and her light blue eyes softer than any turquoise stones the merchants peddled.

 

Yet it was not all that, that caused Kajus much anguish in his heart. Because as they spent more time with one another he came to realise that she understood him, empathised with him; a rare thing for a commoner with ideas of justice and right and wrong, in a world where might makes right.

 

One day as they were scouting the forests together outside of Sterhal, rain poured from the sky. The keep was too far away to reach, and the downpour grew. They rushed to a small hillock that had a  shelter made of slabs of stone and tree trunks, and made a fire from the supplies they had to keep warm.

 

From there they stared outward into the dark forest as the rain thundered, then to each other. Kajus couldn't help but smile to himself, as the thunder outside reminded him that he was but a small part of nature, as was she.

 

Without further hesitation, he reached to hold her hand in his, at which she gasped but quickly their fingers locked together, as they waited out the rest of the rainy night.

 

 

Warmth travelled from the tips of Nuvilta’s fingers to her heart. For a moment, she did not breathe. The thunder roared its dominion over the dense forest, yet all she could hear was the thumping of her own heart. And as she peered out into the darkness of the outside forest, all she could think about was the meeting of calloused skin to her trembling fingers. It was such a simple gesture, small in nature, and yet it felt as though the world had shifted to bear witness.

 

His hand was rough and worked, yet in a way that made it all the more warm and comforting. She knew that she should have pulled away, should have remembered all that separated them, yet she did not. She could not.

 

She looked at him then. Though, unlike the times before, she had really looked at him. She recalled all of those small details she had kept in her mind, and pieced them into one. She pieced them into the Kajus that sat beside her. There was no arrogance in him, no expectation of her, no fear of her station. There was only the quiet understanding that he, too, knew this moment was something sacred.

 

It was then that she spoke, her voice barely audible above the booming thunder.

 

“Aksos, Kajus.” Her eyes looked to their joined hands, lingering there for a few moments before they rose to meet his eyes. “Do vy think it will ever stop?”

 

She had meant the rain, But her words felt heavier than that, as if the question were one neither dared answer aloud. It was in that silence that she prayed for the rain to never end. For the rain and darkness to forever encase them in this barrier from the world. The world beyond that would look down upon a noblewoman entertaining the company of a man of no station.

 

Though warmth escaped the cage of doubt that restrained her heart, Nuvilta still tried to believe that what they had was nothing more than a fondness that she could not allow to grow.

 

---

PART II - RIFT AND TIDE

“I AM THE LORD GOD WITHOUT PEER. 4 I POURED THE BRINE INTO THE SEA AND THE SWEET WATER INTO THE RIVERS, AND I CREATED THE FIRE OF THE DESERT AND THE SOFT BREEZE THAT COOLS IT.”

(VIRTUE 3:5)

 

The forest grew bald as trees continued to be felled then chopped into planks for ships. Kajus’ work did not involve directly making of the ships, but the nails and tools he produced were essential. Yet as much as he understood the decision of others to leave the island, he could not help but unwittingly delay his swings by a fraction of a second. It would do little to delay the departure of Nuvilta, and frankly they still had months together, but every swing of his hammer was another step closer to that day the ships would set sail.

 

He tossed his tools away, like tossing away bad thoughts. It was useless to think about such matters, and the time he spent not working was instead best spent with Nuvilta. On the days they were not at the smithy, a myriad of activities brought them closer together. The lady was a great warrior and taught the smith how to use the swords he forged properly. Then in turn he’d show her the best herbs and mushrooms to gather in the woods and after that he would watch her meditate as she practiced her mysterious arts, captivated by her silver aura which was more pure than any ingot than he had ever worked.

 

All his life he had been focused on survival and work, sure in his youth a few maidens caught his eye and vice versa but those moments never went anywhere. Kajus could never let his guard down, never felt at ease among others. But with Nuvilta, it was different. While in public he had to maintain the distance between them, which was burdensome in itself, in private he was more free. He could challenge her and she challenged him, not physically but in spirit. And despite repeating their routines over and over together, each day felt fresh and different unlike before. He would go to bed every night thinking of seeing her the next day.

 

There was one word to describe the situation, but he was hesitant to say it. For if he were to, then their inevitable separation would shatter their bond more painfully. Kajus was determined to remain on Kalldur, there was far more liberty on the island than he had experienced on Aevos in all his life and it was abundant in beauty and nature. He could not see himself returning to a land of where law was written with blood. Sterhal was a small bastion of peace and order.

 

 

Nuvilta, however, had to make the journey to new lands with her people. While she would much prefer the quiet tranquility of the coastal keep of Sterhal, many of the Silasian folk wish to continue in the voyage with the rest of man. And so her fate was sealed. She could not turn her duty to her people down. She would not. Above even the needs of herself, she put the needs of her kin, without complaint.

 

Preparations filled Nuvilta’s each passing day. With every barrel sealed and every crate marked, her heart seemed to tighten further, as though the distance had already begun to stretch between her and Kajus. The halls of Sterhal that had once echoed the sound of constant laughter, now sounded only of restless work. 

 

Still, in the little free time she had, she would accept his offers for outings, silently sneaking away from her mounting duties. Some evenings, she would find herself again at the forge, continuing her lessons under the glow of ember and flame. Kajus continued to teach her as he always had: patient, careful, and steady. Yet now, each moment felt heavier, as though they both sensed the dwindling time.

 

It was during one such session that he told her of his wish to remain on Kalldur. 

 

For a heartbeat, she could say nothing. Her hands stilled on the tools that she was handling, her eyes refusing to look up at him. That warmth that she constantly sought from the flame of the forge had suddenly turned cold. She had known it, perhaps had expected it, but hearing the words aloud made the truth cut through her heart, sharp and final. What she feared was becoming the reality– they could not be together because she would be oceans away.

 

Nuvilta managed a smile. “You will be happy. I am happy for you. Those who stay will need someone like you to lead them.”

 

She saw how the isles suited him. He was free and at peace here. There was pride in her heart, and joy, that he had found peace where so many had not.

 

But beneath that joy lay a soft and unspoken sorrow.

 

---

PART III - HOLLOW DISTANCE

“AND AS I HAVE CREATED FOR YOU THE STRUGGLES OF THE WORLD, SO TOO DO I CREATE THE STRUGGLES OF THE SPIRIT.”

(VIRTUE 5:5)

 

At long last the day came. Galleys were lined up by the port of Sterhal with countless people working, shouting bustling to load goods and themselves aboard. In this crowd of people Kajus and Nuvilta stood together unnoticed as people rushed about them.

 

This was it. He looked down to the woman he had come to know these last few years, the one he had come to love. There was no use playing coy about it now, as Nuvilta began to step away from him to follow the people he stopped her, pulling her hand lightly and pulling her to him.

 

He leaned down to give her the final kiss they would have between them, the one that would be the most filled with love out of all the ones they shared, but also embittered with regret. The crowd kept moving around them, not noticing the couple in all the chaos. Finally Kajus let go and watched Nuvilta get swept away.

 

After what felt like an eternity waiting at the docks, the ships creaked with movement. He could not see if Nuvilta was standing on deck watching him too but perhaps it wouldn't do him any good.   As those giant wooden behemoths shrunk into the horizon, Kajus started to curse himself and the futility of it all. Why had he been so stubborn to not admit his love earlier than he did, their moments together would have been so much sweeter. His attempts to avoid heartbreak had failed, it had hurt all the same seeing her sail away.   He stayed at the docks till nightfall, not knowing what to do or where to go. Until he reluctantly turned home. It was quiet, just like it was before he had met Nuvilta, but it was not a welcome return to norm. He dropped into his bed and stared at the thatched ceiling till darkness took him.

 

 

The sea wind carried the scent of salt and sorrow as the sails unfurled, catching the breath of the ocean and the weight of farewells. Nuvilta stood on the deck among her people, the soon to be Countess of Silasia, wrapped in duty though her heart remained on the shore. 

 

When Kajus’s lips had met hers for the final time, she had not wept, nor spoken. There was no protest at the gesture, even though they stood amongst a crowd of people. The world had stilled for the moment, the crowd fading to nothingness, the sea’s roar softening, until only his warmth lingered on her skin.

 

Now, as the ship drifted further from the docks, she reached instinctually to her mouth, pressing her fingers where his touch had been, as if by doing so she could keep the memory there forever. A kiss so full of devotion and love that burned itself into a seal upon her lips as the final mark of love neither had dared name aloud.

 

The shouts of those voyaging and groans of timber drowned her thoughts. Yet, she found herself looking out to the shore. Among the blur of movement, she thought she could still see him– unmoving, a figure carved of stone and longing. Her throat tightened. Her gloved hands gripped tight to the railing as the shore of the Isles began to fade from sight. The wind stung her eyes, or perhaps it was something else entirely. Sterhal and its towering trees, forge smoke, and laughter had all become a memory carried on the waves.

 

As night fell, she remained on the deck long after her people had gone below. The hammering of the forge that had once marked her days was now replaced by the rhythmic lapping of the sea. She wondered if Kajus was still thinking of her. She wondered if he would return to working the forge. She wondered what would have happened if she would’ve just spoken those three sacred words aloud.

 

---

 

PART IV - HEADING TOWARDS

“AND YOU SHALL KNOW THE TRIALS OF THIS THEATER OF VIRTUE, AND KNOW THAT THEY SHALL STRENGTHEN YOU.” 

(VIRTUE 5:8)

 

As the lands of Kalldur were emptied, the long sought after peace had finally come to be. The abandoned encampments would slowly fade to ruin and be claimed by nature till there was no trace of them. And while Kajus enjoyed watching ivy and moss take over the walls day by day. He helped along by salvaging abandoned homes and burning the wood to charcoal for his forge in Sterhal. Life inside continued calm, but monotonous.

 

He shared companionship with those that remained behind with him, but it was not enough. A certain passion, and drive was lost. Kajus went upon the shores every night and stared outward as the moon illuminated the sea foam that rolled onto the sand with each push of the wave. He looked out longingly, as if hoping that the light of the moon would reveal to him what he had lost, as if it would be floating upon the waves like a castaway.

 

Kajus had stopped keeping track mentally of the days, though his heart did. And on a dark day, rainclouds disrupted all the work within Sterhal, and life in the keep paused. Despite this, at the same time at night Kajus ventured out to the shore, and the waves broke upon the sand roughly and his eyes were stung by  the sharp wind and salt. He kept firm on his feet but he could not keep his eyes to the shoreline. His head was forced up to look at the stormy sky and through the clouds he saw a glowing star.

 

His eyes grew wide with captivation and without even realising it the weather around him began to calm and the clouds disperse. The star was the tip of a constellation, a sword pointing northward but as Kajus kept looking he saw other bright stars connected to the handle of the sword, a winged figure holding a sword.

 

With that, the next day he packed a fishing boat full of supplies and set sail to the direction the angel pointed with the sword.

 

 

After weeks on the open ocean, the long, and grueling voyage to new lands had concluded. A new home stretched before them. Azuras. As anchors groaned, sinking into the foreign waters, Nuvilta stared out to the expanse of wild, unchartered lands and envisioned the home it would become. Yet, still, she knew that her heart could never feel completely at home with the piece of it left behind on Kalldur. 

 

Nuvilta breathed the sharp, unfamiliar air and steadied herself as her boots sank into the damp sands of the shore. She ignored the ache in her chest and began focusing once more on that duty of hers. There was no time for longing. Not when she needed to assist her father with leading, not when there was so much building and settling needed.

 

Days became filled with motion. She oversaw the raising of walls, the mending of ships, and the soothing of fears. Her attention remained on the need to protect those Silasians she stood among. Her words came easily, and her smile even more so, as she practiced the grace of a well-trained noblewoman who would not falter. Yet when night came and the fires burned low, her voice fell quiet, her thoughts turning toward the island she had left behind.

 

When she closed her eyes, all she heard was that rhythmic clang of his hammer on the anvil, echoing in her head. It was a dull and persistent rhythm that she could not quiet as hard as she tried. She lay awake, staring into the darkness and drowned in her thoughts, and then tears. Regret seeped from her eyes as she felt the guilt of pushing him away. The guilt of thinking they had no chance together because of his station as a commoner. That didn’t matter to him now. All she wanted was him by her side.

 

It was then, in the silence apart from her quiet sobs that she left her bed and knelt with her hands clasped in prayer. She recited:

 

“And you shall not envy the lives of others, for all virtuous paths are equal in My eyes, and all shall be rewarded not according to their station, but their virtue.”

 

 

 

---

PART V - DELIVERY OF FATE

“AND AS I MADE FOR YOU THE WORLDLY PLEASURES, SO TOO HAVE I MADE THE PLEASURES OF THE SPIRIT, AND THE LOVE OF THE HUSBAND AND WIFE.”

(VIRTUE 3:5)

 

The stinging taste of salt bore into Kajus’ mouth, eyes and lungs. His fingers curled to feel where he was, the coarse sand grinded against him. As his body bid him to breath reflexively he coughed out seawater, the taste of salt now mixed with bile in his mouth.   Unable to move a muscle, he could only bid to squeeze his eyes to wash the salt away with his tears. When he finally opened them, the light beared down on him. Kajus laid on some sandy beach surrounded by tall rocky hills. He sighed and closed his eyes, resigning to his fate until he felt a shadow over his face. With this small respite granted he opened his eyes once more, and his fatigue melted upon seeing the visage of the angel of the skies that now stood in front of him in mortal presence.

 

 

Spoiler

A narrative post between mine and Dramatude's characters. co-written together.
Please do not meta.

 

[Spellblades 749]

Spoiler

I love the formatting, great post you two :D