Heart Like a Wildflower
29th of Searing, Year 122 of the Age of Steel
29th of Searing, Year 122 of the Age of Steel
A summer night in Yorunorei was an experience like no other. The hubbub of activities had died down and the crickets had started to sing. Not a single cloud in the sky, just a thousand stars winking down at her. A cool breeze danced around, flicking the black fabric of her robe. The stone path was still damp under her feet from the summer rain a few hours ago. The young Dahshida glided through the gardens soundlessly, passing through the path that would lead her past the pavilions and to the mountains.
Reika had lost count of how often she could hear the noises of a heated argument coming from the Nightfrost Pavilion, where her grandfather often resided. While curiosity had made her wander closer every time, the young woman wasn’t stupid enough to try snooping and listening to the conversation. But it was always obvious who was involved. There was only one person in the whole city that would dare to raise his voice at Haruhiro Dahshida in such a manner and that was his own eldest son. Her father.
She already knew what they would be talking about. About how they were doing nothing as Sahfri Novalys had basically crowned herself the Queen Regent and refused to let anyone choose a new Shokaze. Senrian Dahshida had played along when it all happened, but he did not hide his displeasure once he was surrounded by close family. What she was curious about was her grandfather’s thoughts about all this. He was, after all, an avid supporter of Savien Novalys. Now that, he was gone she wondered if that support extended to his son.
Before she could be tempted to sneak closer, Reika made herself turn away. Her nightly excursions were to take her mind off things, not add to them. It didn’t take long for her to reach the hatchery and her steps sped up as she got closer. The sight of the place never failed to lighten her mood. She greeted the guards who let her pass inside without much question - she was after all a familiar face in these parts.
Unsurprisingly, the first handler she spotted was Jurou. The old man’s hands were skinny and wrinkled, but his movements were steady as he combed one of the females. As far as she could tell, he was the oldest and most trusted caretaker of korihanes. For these past few years, the man always took the night shifts. Reika had asked him why, but he never gave her a serious answer.
“Lady Dahshida,” the old handler greeted with a bow. “As much as your presence lights up these dark caves, you shouldn’t be spending so much of your nights here. You should be out in the city, doing whatever young noblewomen do these days.”
She laughed at the comment and sat down beside him. “What makes you so sure that this isn’t what they’re doing these days?” As soon as she did, the white-feathered eagle turned to look at her. Reika gave the creature a slight bow of her head and the korihane turned her attention to her bag.
The young woman had brought along with her a bag of clementines she stole from the kitchens. After peeling it open, Reika offered half of the fruit to the female - who devoured it in a single gulp - and popped a piece into her own mouth.
“Simply because of the fact that we don’t see other noblewomen around these parts other than you,” Jurou pointed out quickly.
“Fair enough. Well, you’re stuck with me anyway.” Reika turned her attention to the hatchlings that had been born just a few days earlier. It would take some time until their grey feathers turn blue. Even after spending a decade in the hatchery, the young woman was not foolish enough to simply approach the young birds - as much as she wanted to.
After a few minutes of watching Jurou work in silence, the lady grabbed a nearby brush. She spotted the eagle she had taken care of for these past few days sitting on the other side of the aviary. It was a majestic thing, owned by a skyrider. “Time to work now.”