Early Morning At The Seventis Camp...

[Nina 27]

The sloping dunes that shaped the Sunmoth Desert were yet dark, only slivers of reddened sun appearing from the thick clouds in the early-morning horizon. Every few hours, the skies would again pour rain down below and crash thunder to herald the downpour. The rains had stopped, for now, and the hour was yet early; few were awake in the encampment now.

A lone figure, sporting a drenched black tunic that clung to her form, was perched atop a bench by the smoldering campfire. Both of her legs were drawn up underneath herself and her arms were folded over her chest to keep from shivering as the wind danced over her dampened flesh. She seemed to take care to avoid making noise and drawing attention to where she was, preferring the quiet that had befallen the Kingdom's temporary home.

It had been only days ago that she was wandering the wilderness with not a coin in her pocket and an axe upon her belt. It had been only days ago that she knew not whether she'd starve upon a stretch of miles between towns or whether she'd ever find a bed to call her own. Things change quickly, it would seem; she had to herself a tent, a bed, and a future promised to her that would give her enough opportunity to take what it is she had dreamed of.

She reached for a stick nearby, letting her blistered fingers numbly dance over its surface before leaning into stoke the fire. The charcoal that fed the flame was soaked in with rainwater and the campfire belched acrid black smoke in place of gaining life.

For many, a camp in the middle of the desert was a far cry from salvation or hope. But for Nina Astoria of Astoria Lumber... it was a chance. It was a divine gift. Her shoulders ached from her labors earlier-- for two and a half days she had dug up sand and hauled dirt alongside the King and his men. In all the tales Nina had heard of Kings, she had never heard of one that labored alongside their subjects. Or one who allowed himself to be addressed without holding a grandiose court with jesters and guards...

"Your Majesty," she mumbled to herself. Her voice was coarse, muted like a whisper. The words were so foreign to say or to hear herself speak. "Your Highness; King Renati." Her lips formed the words slowly, painstakingly. She had a king now and nobles, too. She could no longer speak free or be the woman that she was at her heart.

Even curling up didn't prevent her from shivering, now.

This gift came at a cost. The realization wasn't a new one, but it was one that made her tighten her jaw and pull her lips back from her teeth in the manifestation of a sneer. But she would be no Astoria if she could not swallow that cost. She would prove everything said by her grandfather, her father. Her father's brother-- that wretch of an uncle-- she'd prove them all right. She could do more than sacrifice her labors to establish the mill; she could sacrifice her independence.

Astoria Lumber will live.