ScoutTheWitch

Emelya Eloise Kortrevich sighs softly at seeing the message, "Yam sad she is niet marrying for love... Vasilia deserves better than a betrothal to some random lord..." She glanced to her left ring finger, underneath her gauntlet where her ring was, "Or waits, like eam..."

A Squire Searching A young squire returning to her camp inside the cave after a day hunting. The whipping wind crashed snow against the mouth of the cave, in which sat a young girl hunched over a small fire. A pair of heavy boots crushed the snow by the entrance, an older man approaching her, letting the warm orange glow illuminate the angles of his face. She glanced up to him, letting out a deep sigh of relief at his face, easing her hand back from the spear resting on the stone wall. Osric Tsecsar gazed down to the arctic hare meat roasting above the fire and to the girl, “I see you’ve got a steady shelter.” Emelya Eloise Kortrevich nodded, “Ea found this place, decently well ventilated for the smoke, but it keeps the heat in.” “I’m surprised a bear hasn’t made it their home.” The squire sighed and nodded again, removing a piece of the hare’s breast meat with a dense skewer, ripping a bite from it with her teeth, “Da, but if one tried, they’d have to get through eam.” She chuckled. He chuckled as well, shaking his head before standing back upright, “It seems you’re doing well after a month, I’ll leave you to it.” He turned around, his cloak billowing back towards Emelya before he took a few steps out back into the snow, “Good luck, little knight. Goodbye for now.” “Dravi Firr Tsecsar.” She responded, returning to her food. * * * After a couple months, Osric would return to the young squire’s encampment deep in the Rimeveld as he had done every week, peering through the cave entrance towards Emelya, this time scraping the edge of a pointed rock against the head of her spear, “Kept yourself busy?” “Ai.” She said as she procured some fibers and began to fit the pointed rock with a straightened stick, tying it in a cross pattern after inserting the tip into a divot opposite to the tip, “Yam working on increasing mea arsenal and, given mea skill with a bow, ea thought this would be the most dobry idea.” She gestured to a dense stick which seemed to have been carved with the speartip into an unstrung bow. “Good, good. You ought to be working on getting that pelt. You cannot just hunt rabbits forever.” He took a seat across from her at the crackling fire. “Ea just want to be prepared. If ea lose mea spear in the conflict, ea do niet want to be unarmed.” She slipped a carved dowel through the tip perpendicular to the shaft of the arrow, tying the fibers around before cutting the end on the speartip and finishing off the knot. “So you chose the spear as a tool?” She nodded, “Tools are the most important to survival. If vy want to make something, a sharp object comes in handy.” “That it does.” He nodded in return, “When I return I hope to see you donning a new pelt.” He chuckled, standing up again, “Good luck.” Emelya set down her arrow next to a small pile of others, “Dravi Firr Tsecsar.” * * * Six months have passed since Emelya Eloise Kortrevich trekked out into the Rimeveld alone. Now, sitting on a log by the fire, the squire struck a very different, more built, hardened, and intimidating visage than that of the young girl who journeyed into this wasteland. Ducking down to enter the cave, Osric Tsecsar realized the difference as he gazed up, grinning slightly. He glanced to her shoulders, looking at the fur cloak draped over her shoulders, “What is it?” “Polar bear.” She reached back and ran a hand through the white fur, “Ea lured it into a pit by constructing a facade of sticks and snow. When ea got it to charge at eam, it crashed down into the rocks. Ea just had to use the spear to finish it off. Then ea just had to drag it back, that was the hardest part. At least the tallow treated the leather well.” He chuckled, “Good of you to know your limits and think tactically.” Emelya nodded, “Da, ea do niet think any one person could take a bear on in fair single combat.” She chuckled. Osric glanced over to the wall where scratches had been made, tallys numbering up to twenty five, “You’re keeping track? Eager to return to civilization.” At that, she was silent for a moment before responding, “Niet really… ea… ea need to prepare, to train further. Ea want to know that nie trial could stand before eam… ea will return in… a year or so, ea think.” She sighed, “Once ea can be sure mea determination to be a knight is more than just words. Dravi Firr Tsecsar.” Osric stood, nodding to her as he moved towards the exit, glancing back, “Hmm, do you wish for me to continue checking up on you?” She shrugged, “If vy wish to visit eam, so be it. Ea will just be out here.” She smiled to him softly, giving him a wave. * * * Emerging from the mouth of the cave was a far more built woman, stepping out through the snow, cloaked in the hide of a polar bear. She sighed, eyeing through the haze of the snow in the distance, in the direction she knew Karosgrad to be. She sighed, contemplating what would be different when she would return. Emelya shook her head, knowing that she has delayed for far too long. The polar bear cloak billowed in the snowy wind taking one step in snow after the other as she finally, after nearly a year and a half, returned to her family, her country, and her duties.

The Lost Squire A young squire venturing alone into the tundra. A dolorous young girl stared down at her gauntleted hands as she looked from the steps of her family’s keep. She needed something to distinguish herself, something to prove she was not just another hopeful noble child wishing to be a knight. If she was going to achieve her greatest hopes and dreams, she would need to prove her strength and bolster her own courage in the rimy tundra beyond the stretches of civilization. She did not do this to gain others approval, but for her own, to prove to herself that she had the gallantry to overcome the hurdles before her. Emelya Eloise Kortrevich pushed herself off the steps, turning back and offering her mentor a nod before heading towards the doors, making her way through the halls of Jerovitz and up to her room. She gazed out the windows, one facing the Attenlund where she had braved nature in her Oath Hunt, the other facing the Rimeveld, the tundra which she would have to face for far longer. She tossed her tabard emblazoned with the colors of the Order of the Crow onto her bed, her chain hauberk and chausses following, finishing with her gambeson folded on top and boots by the edge of her bed. She moved to her desk, drawing few pieces of paper and writing down some final words before her journey, one brief which she would leave on the dining room table of Jerovitz and the other more lengthy one of which she would leave on the table of Hallasburg, the seat of the Knightly Orders. Finishing her notes, she turned, heading out of her room, out of Jerovitz, and to beyond, the frozen tundra which would be her proving ground. Note at Jerovitz Note at Hallasberg

Emelya Eloise Kortrevich let out a sigh, "Another drinking contest? Godan..." She chuckled, "Ea think they were already going to drink themselves to death with or without a contest..."

Emelya Eloise Kortrevich reads the paper, her face twisted in confusion, "Ea must get to the bottom of this, he is a prospective Knight and, ea suppose, a friend. Vy better be ready to answer, Mister Bishop... and honestly." She shoved the paper in her pocket, keeping it handy.

Emelya Eloise Kortrevich stowed her murder accoutrement for now, glaring down her mother for even the thought of participating. As she begrudgingly prepares a dress for the occasion, she takes a dagger from her collection, deciding it would be best to stow at least a fancy one on her person in case a boy got too close for her liking.

Emelya Eloise Kortrevich was shaken by the announcement of her father's death, "Yam szam papej... Ea'll try to be like Dame Primrose, just as vy said ea would. If only vy could... vy could be there..." She would continue to sob into her black beret which she had only recently stopped wearing after the news of her cousin's death, "Death seems to favor Kortreviches this year..."

Upon hearing the news, Emelya Eloise Kortrevich headed off to her hiding place in the ruins of Krusev to attempt to pen a letter for her aedymamej and aedypapej expressing her sorrows and sympathy, giving up solely to softly cry into an old worn tablecloth at the loss of her cousin until she fell asleep.

Emelya Eloise Kortrevich sighs, placing her palm to her forehead, "Oh Godan, what is this?"