Chapter 3 – Preparation

The orphanage’s estate sprawled over acres of bountiful land, once held by the former Duke. It was at meal times, with all its denizens packed into the one dining hall, were the size of Castoria’s orphanage became apparent. As such, breakfast was a renegade affair.

Most mornings the younger orphans ran between tables, playing tag or other trivial games. The lucky twerps woke full of energy. By contrast, the teenagers struggled to stay awake in line for their food. They walked around with grains of sleep in their eyes, their warm beds on their minds as they found a table of friends to eat with. The public workers, the orphan’s Carers and the seasonal labourers of the estate, paid for by Castoria’s Archonage fund, happily welcomed the warm morning meal.

However, this morning was different, for this morning the ceiling was in full bloom. This morning the high table would have an announcement.

The dining hall was breath taking to most who entered it for the first time. Round tables were interspersed throughout the hall, but organised enough to leave a clear corridor for the food line and the high table to enter and depart. Each table was laid out to offer a view of the high table, where the Head-Carer, Chief-Labourer, Head of Hall, and Headmistress sat this morning whispering between themselves.

Yet, the hall wasn’t bustling this morning due to its personage alone, as Casridgeshire held the Citizens Assembly of Castoria and the Archon’s Tower. Even the magic of the hall only sparked the nerves and gossip that deafened all who entered the ahll this morning. No it was the simple fact that it was finally Blossom, and all had been called to hear the Headmistress speak. It was time to organise the Choosing ceremony.

Willam entered the hall sore and excited. While everyone discussed the Choosing to come, Willam focused on last night. From Jules to the lake, from Georgy to the twins, last night felt like a dream except for one thing; he had come up with a plan.

Jeez, the Star Child must have been watching me last night. What was I thinking? But I guess thats the plan.

Willam put his hands to his head, stretched back and sighed. While he sighed he marvelled at the ingenuity of the ceiling, the blooming flowers waving in the non-existent breeze at him this morning.

Well, I guess flowers would be a nice addition to the plan; duly noted.

The hall’s high ceiling was a magickal array left by the old Duke. It displayed a garden of flowers in bloom this morning where the past five moons they had been little buds. The shift had occurred over night, the Blossom season having come early to Castoria this year.

The orphanage’s denizens each stole glances at the magick ceiling, some spilt food lost in the bountiful spiral of colours above their head. The yellow of Yuzu, the green of Cammilla, the fierce blue of Roses, and the ever prevelant Mother’s Wild flower a multi-chromatic flower that stood out from them all. The flowers gave the hall colour and a sense of life beyond the vibrant glow of the hall’s stained glass windows.

Willam loved the windows, as a child he had marvelled at their own magick more so than the life-like plants. They depicted the fabled origins of Castoria and the people’s deep respect for the lands Damoine-Fay. There were eighteen windows in total but only nine were stained with magick. It wasn’t that the Castorian saga couldn’t be recounted in eighteen parts but that the people of Castoria recognised that they were only a segment of history; pages can be recreated but a stain will never be the same twice.

Willam had remembered when the Headmistress had revealed the ninth window of the hall - he had been seven seasons old at the time. The newest window illustrated the Archon receiving the Fay and people’s blessing to serve as Castoria’s warden. The Fay represented by an elegant, if not ethereal, being constructed from swamp vines and tree roots. They were decorated with the Mother’s flower, their eyes made from polished blue-stone. The being stood to the Archon’s left. To the right of the cloacked Archon was a mass of people pressing forward a wise old crone. A scythe held firm in her frail hands that she used to tap the Archon on the shoulder. The Fay-being at the same time offered a laurel of the Mother’s flowers, thorns still attached, which it placed on the Archon’s head.

The image shifted as one watched it; the act of being blessed and burdened renewed every few seconds as the stained windows magick flowed.

“A mixture of the wild and the civilised, a statement of unity in the face of responsibility. An apt metaphor for this own institution.” The Headmistress had declared years ago.

Today more than ever Willam believed her words.

There was an energy in the air this morning. While the teens were sleepy, they whispered to each other trying to remain vigilant. The children did not dare play near the high table this morning, respectful of the adults wearing stern expressions as they spoke of decisions in dire tones. Even the seasonal labourers sensed the anticipation in the room; many electing for a packaged meal to escape the room with haste.

Willam waited in line for his own meal, his plan at the forefront of his mind. But at the back of his mind was the same thought as hundreds of others.

The Choosing Ceremony is coming.

Willam shuffled along in line, lost in his thoughts. He’d explained what had happened and what he wanted to do about it last night to the twins and Georgy. They had been eager to help him then but, what if he’d been too presumptuous?

He had asked for much in a short span of time, especially from Georgy. The Carer was quite new to the orphanage, having been a Winter recruit; what if he couldn’t help? It was all so difficult.

Willam wished he could work on his plan with Julia, but that would defeat the point of it.

Stuck in his head Willam failed to notice a gaggle of girls and a young boy approach him in line.

“Why thank you Willy for saving our spot.”

A hand pushed against Willam’s chest, stopping him from moving in line.

It was never going to be an easy day. Okay, let’s get this over with.

“Morning Lyn-Lyn,” Willam said.

Evelyn’s eye twitched at the nickname. She was surrounded by her ‘confidants’ as she liked to call them. Evelyn has a knack for making people feel special. Willam to his chagrin was special to Evelyn in a different way to her dutiful confidants.

“Your friends are free to hop in front, I insist actually.” Willam stepped back, gesturing for the group to move in front.

“Well, aren’t you kind.” Said Evelyn.

“Yeah, thanks Willam!” Said the group’s only boy. He happily accepted Willam’s offer, licking his lips.

“Austin!” Evelyn shot him a look of betrayal but Austin had already hopped in front of Willam.

Austin looked at her confused. “What? Second breakfast is the better breakfast.”

Thank you Austin, and your bottomless appetite.

Willam smiled at the rest of the girls, inviting them to follow Austin’s lead. Sadly, it wasn’t going to be so easy.

Evelyn, once assured no girl was accepting Willam’s offer, brushed back her brunette hair to compose herself. In her hair was a pin in the design of the Mother’s flower, but none of the petal’s were coloured. She wore a light blue Summer dress with her Winter boots; a fashion Willam did not understand, yet was sure was the next big thing for the other girls to wear this blossom. Composed and in control Evelyn raised to her full height, just below Willam’s chin, and condescended to him.

“You know Willy, supposedly someone go into a fight last night.”

“Really?” Willam said. He tried to affect a disinterested tone. He tried not to fidget as he felt himself start to sweat.

“Yes really. And do you know who they got into a fight with, hmm?” Evelyn leaned into Willam’s personal space.

Willam tightened his scarf, waving his hand in front of his nose. He scrunched up his nose and looked around.

“Jeez, is it beans for breakfast again? Ooft, I can smell it.”

Austin piped up. “Yeah Evelyn you sure you haven’t eaten,” He was pinching his own nose. “I can smell your breath from here.”

One of the girls giggled before going deathly silent. The confidants watched Evelyn, unused to Willam’s blunt responses.

Evelyn tried to keep a netral expression, but Willam could see she was tensing her jaw. She fought to stop herself blushing, raising her hand to her mouth as if she was going to check her breath before stopping herself.

Willam had caught her off guard. He hid his smile in his scarf.

Okay Willam keep it together, no need for pettiness.

Austin shuffled forward Willam following. There were only two people ahead of Austin to recieve their food.

I just need to stall, not start a fight. I lose in any real fight so keep it clean.

Evelyn’s eyes scanned the queue following Willam’s. Thinking fast, she pushed the girl who had giggled in front of Austin. He tapped his foot impatient but neither him or the girl argued with Evelyn. Willam kept his expression blank.

“It was the Candlestick.” Evelyn piped up again.

“Pardon.”

“I said the other person in the fight was Candlesti-”

“Who?”

“You know who, Willy.”

Willam mimed thinking for a moment. The giggling girl was next to receive her food. He fought to keep his anger out of his voice.

“Sorry, Lyn-Lyn. I don’t know anyone named Candlestick. It’s a very unusual name, are they new here? Perhaps you could introduce me sometime, I know how you love to introduce people to me all the time.”

Evelyn’s face went crimson. There was something about seeing her get flustered that amused Willam. She was the one trying to pick a fight after all. He had every right to deflect or reply in kind. Yet, in Willam’s heart he felt bad; not for Evelyn or her confidants exactly. It was that bad feeling someone felt when they could do something, but they didn’t have too. Willam didn’t know what to call it so he ignored it.

“Julia Peerdove, the bloody Fay-cursed Candlestick,” Evelyn said through gritted teeth, “was balling her eyes out on the roof last night.”

Willam’s face drained of any colour it had left. For once he was thankful he was usually so pale.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers, focusing on the line ahead of him. He ignored the rising pressure in his chest or the sprites that fluttered around in his belly. He just needed to stall, no need for emotions.

Austin was about to be served.

Almost there, just keep it together.

“I hope she’s okay.” Willam muttered.

“Would you be okay if you went out to cry in last night’s weather, hmm Willy?”

Does she know about… Did the twins snitch, how could she…? No, no, keep it together Willam. Deflect, give her nothing, let her leave.

“No, I wouldn’t be okay. But it’s not my place to gossip about others.” Willam reached for a bowl, turning away from Evelyn to accept his breakfast. He’d made it to his food without causing a scene. Or, he made it before he felt that he had to cause a scene.

“No, you would never be the source of gossip would you Willy. You’re too good for that, ain’t you?” He heard Evelyn and her friends walk away, abandoning the ones with food to find a different table to eat with.

Willam sighed.

I’ll never understand her. Wow, seven Blossoms together and I still can’t puzzle her out. Lucky I have something to do today or I may not of held it together. Wow, what is her problem?

Willam accepted his toasted muffin with beans and sausages, moving along to fill his mug with green tea.

He pondered Evelyn’s fascination with him. He was always the test subject for her newer confidants. Yet, he could never work out if she was trying to see if they would snitch on her, defy her, defend him, he couldn’t figure it out. Her game was a mystery to him.

Maybe thats the issue; no one enjoys a one person game of checkers.

When he reached the tea, he found Irene rearranging the different pots in order of the teas colour; black tea, red tea, yellow tea, green tea. She huffed noticing one of the pots had been damaged. The green teapot’s handle was missing.

“Good morning Irene.”

“Oh, good morning Master Willam.”

Irene, noticing Willam waiting for the green teapot, picked it up herself, still eyeing it with disdain, and poured it for him.

Irene was a tall woman, almost matching Willam in height. Her face was, for lack of a better word, hawkish; but Willam possibly thought that because she never missed a detail, in her kitchen or out and especially with messes. She wore a flat-cap - to hold her short hair out of her face and food - and a near spotless apron tied around her waist over her tunic and overalls. Ever immaculate and functional in appearance, Irene. Her environment reflected her appearance; ruthlessly clean and tidy.

“Thank you.” Said Willam for the tea.

“My pleasure,” Irene smiled.

Willam turned to leave but a hand gripped his shoulder. “I’ll be waiting in the kitchen after breakfast. Georgy spoke to me, and I’m more than happy to help.”

“Wait, really?”

“You mean pardon, and yes. I am always happy to help with people’s culinary endeavours, so long as they respect my kitchen.”

Willam smiled. The sprites fluttering in his belly eased. “Thank you sincerely, Ms Irene. I can’t wait!”

“Why, yes you can. There is still food on your plate after all, eat up. Now, shoo.” Irene returned to assessing the green teapot, meaning she frowned at it for a few seconds longer before removing it from her perfectly placed array of drinks. Willam walked away hungry for breakfast and mentally thanking Georgy.

Willam quickly found a table to eat at as the twins heckled him from across the hall to sit with them. Well, Melia did the heckling while Lain chowed down on his food. Willam made his way over, sat down, and attacked his own food with a prejudice that put Lain to shame. Last night’s supper was good, but an Irene cooked meal was always better.

The twins and their friends were bouncing around in their seats. Whispers were shared, and eyes darted all over the hall but always returning to one place; the high table.

“Psst, Klutzy… when will Headmis’ speak?” Lain asked.

“Soon I imagine.”

“Hey Klutzy can I, um, tell you something?”

“Sure Lain, go ahead.” Willam cut into his sausage, the toasted muffin and beans having disappeared from his plate. It took the him a moment to notice the dire expression on Lain’s face. “I’m listening, don’t worry.”

“Well, umm… I’m kind of nervous, Klut-Willam.” Lain was playing with his food with his fork. His other hand was gripping his stomach as if it ached. “Like… I don’t know, it’s a silly thing.”

Willam waited a moment, finishing his mouthful. He looked over to Melia who was smiling as she gossiped with her friends. Willam could see the tension in her shoulders as she talked, her smile forced but Lain wasn’t looking at his sister. Lain kept stabbing the same sausage on his plate over and over again, lost in his own thoughts.

“I hear you Lain. It’s perfectly reasonable to feel nervous. I’m sure everyone else is feeling similar.”

“Maybe…”

“I’ll tell you a secret Lain.” Willam leaned closer to the boy. “I’m super nervous too.”

The boy stared up at Willam.

“Well, that’s not really a surprise now is it.”

Willam’s eye twitched.

“Twerp.” He tussled Lain’s hair. Lain stuck out his tongue, leaving his hair.

The pair sat together in silence, eating their food and listening to the others at the table. They enjoyed each other’s company as they waited with everyone else for the high table.

It wasn’t long before the hall descended into silence, everyone focusing on the stout woman at the front of the hall. The Headmistress stood to speak.

The Headmistress was old, short and weathered. She had been appointed due to her years of service to Castoria. Supposedly, the Archon had to convince her to accept the position as she was retired at the time, she would not work for anyone else.

She walked with a cane, and wore an eye-piece around her neck hanging by a silver chain. She was the idyllic image of a grandmother, but no one dared make that comparison. Willam had seen only one person make that comparison, and that night she was pulled into the Headmistress’ office and never spoke about the encounter.

It was rumoured that the Headmistress bargained with the Fay, exchanging her youth for their wisdom.

Supposedly, when the Aylorian Capital fell to the Federates she stood on the Castorian border, alone, sheltering Aylorian refugees across. She dared the Federates to harm her and see what would happen.

Some said the Headmistress was so feared that she dictated the terms of Castoria’s accession to the Commonwealth; she was accompanied by an Arch-Fay and rode a wild bear to the negotiations.

Willam had once been told the Headmistress was an ex-princess, exiled from her homeland for defying her family. She had shared magickal arts, safeguarded by her family for decades, with commoners who were conscripted for war. The reason she wasn’t killed was that she was unable to bear a child and so contest the family fortune. Instead the community of Casridgeshire and then wider Castoria became her family, those commoners she saved becoming future representatives for the Assembly of Citizens while her old-family were stripped of status and forgotten.

The creation of tales about the Headmistress’ past was a favoured past time of the orphan’s, bred from the wonder they all felt to know the truth.

“Good Morning, and a bountiful Blossom to you all.” The Headmistress’s voice was prim, and her tone was proper. She had years of practise under her belt. She stood on stage in front of the high table, watching the entirety of the silent hall.

“This year Blossom came much earlier than anticipated, as I am sure you are aware. Our wondrous hall’s decorations reflect this fact.” She gestured to the blooming ceiling. “No matter this change we are ready to accept this blessing of the Mother; the Choosing ceremony shall begin next week.” The hall was filled with murmurs and whispers, excitement and anxiety.

“It is a time of preparation, for all in this hall. A new season bring new hope. For some life will shift rapidly, but all will need to work for their future equally. We are an institution built from old foundations, strengthen by new ideals and support; yet it is imperative that we remember we are all the same. Each of us a person, each of us united in that common fact. So, despite the extra work,” the hall groaned, “and additional stresses that come with the unpredictability of the world, we will prepare together and continue to live for the betterment of each other. I have faith in all of you and I wish each of you the best in this time to be Found, by others and yourself.” The Headmistresses lowered her head and closed her eyes. She rested both of her hands on her cane, and used it to beat the ground once. She demanded silence.

“May the Wild Mother bless our growth and vitality.

May the Stone Father fortify us and our homes.

May the Star Child ward our paths, guiding us to fulfilment.

For we are Castorian’s.

We are a people united.

We remember our names as we remember our lands.

We love ourselves as we love our neighbours.

We pursue our goals for the betterment of all.

And so, we work, we suffer, we thrive, together.”

“As one.”

The reply echoed with the strength of over eight-hundred Castorians. Not all were born in Castoria, most could not recall their heritage at all, yet they solemnly swore all the same.

The Oath of Family was an oath for all who live in Castoria. It was an oath sworn by all public servants and public wards upon entering the orphanage or service of any public institution. The oath could be traced back to the origins of Castoria, back to an age when the Daomine-Fay ruled and Castoria did not possess an Archon.

The orphanage's history tutor, when Willam quizzed them, said it was birthed from the need of people to overcome the boundaries of blood and tribe; because if people could believe in each other as they do their land then all should prosper.

The Headmistress returned to her seat at the high table, and the Head-Carer called up all carers to brief them on the revised duties required to prepare for the Choosing next week.

Willam scanned the uniformed Carers, searching for the one that was a little muddy. Willam couldn’t spot Georgy but he didn’t have too.

“I’ve got you covered lad. The Child help you with the rest.” Georgy said walking past Willam’s table on his way to the front. He gave Willam a reassuring pat and smile before joining his colleagues for their briefing.

Thanks Georgy, but the only children I’ll need are the two at this table.

Willam checked in with the twins and they were still game. The plan was in motion. It was best he got on with it.

Willam dumped his plates on the serving counter, and ran to his room to check his notes. He needed to be a hundred percent certain about what he wanted to create with Irene. He had one chance to prepare properly for the upcoming confrontations, but despite the fear that sat in his belly there was an excited smile plastered on his face.

I can do it.

Three carriages crossed the border from Ayloria to Castoria. They were not the usual carriages that crossed this early into Blossom. They did not transport cargo for the purpose of trade at the other side of the mountain range, nor did they cart Citizen representatives for the mid-Blossom elections. These carriages were too large, too warded, too elegant.

They were painted a midnight black. Each one’s side door adorned with a metallic crest underlined by jewels. While the crests used different metals – silver, gold and brass – underlined also with a variety of different gems, they were all drawn by aurochs with glowing green eyes.

On each auroch’s right front leg was a brand. If one was close enough, they would distinguish it as the same crest as the one on the side of the carriage. It was a crest distinct to the Capital of the Federation; the House of Espellia, the First Family of the Commonwealth.

A construct watched and waited as the carriages entered Castoria.

It stood half a kilometre down the rocky road through the mountain pass, ready to obstruct the carriages path. The construct was armoured in Castorian Blue-stone. It wore the stone like rugged plate-mail, yet there were no straps or indications that the stone was solely armour. Between the stone, in the chinks in the rock, was a purple glow. The thing was constructed in the image of man, yet where it’s face should be was only polished stone. Its chest expanded and contracted. There was no breath just the increase and decrease of the radiating purple light.

The carriages continued on course to meet the creature. The golem waited.

It carried a message and it will be recieved.