“Lady Saorise!”

The wet nurse’s worried and uneven tone echoed through the stone halls. Her hurried yet ladylike steps a pitter-pattering accompaniment to her distress. Lady Helen had served the House of Caramort since she was a child herself, and her mother had served them before her. Caramort was a long-standing and noble house that stood at the peak of the realm. It was even said they had the blood of the elves who had long ago left the realms of men behind. The rumours surrounding such fantastical nonsense were only bolstered by the lithe and angelic features of the Caramort bloodline. Their crystalline green eyes magical to all who witnessed them. In this part of the Continent, the vast and untamed forests of the East, they were kings without crowns.

Without crowns only because they had refused the honour. Their ancestor who had defended the East from the greedy kingdoms on their borders, had declared after he had turned their foes away, “These Forests have no ruler, they are untamed and should always remain that way. Its nature teaches us the limits of the soul, and pushes us beyond them. We should not deny it nor diminish its power over us”.

Regardless of his great and revered words, the East always turned to House Caramort in harrowing times.

“Lady Saorise!”

Of course, the Caramorts in turn would have to be around to receive such guests…

Saorise Caramort grinned from her perch. Her chest and abdomen fixed to one of the thick branches of the trees that overhung the cliff on which her home was perched. From where she was, she could only just see the tops of the trees in the vast forest below, peaking out of the low fog to greet her. She loved it here. She loved the feeling of sitting between her life, and the death that would surely await her were she to tilt her body weight and tumble down to the forest below. Even her older brother, whom many viewed as the most daring of the living Caramorts, thought she was crazy for dangling her legs over the edge as she did.

“One of these days, Saorise, the branch is going to break and you’ll go tumbling with it,” her late mother had proclaimed.

Elizabeth Ranore had been from the south. There she’d been known as quite unruly in her youth. In the East, she was considered reserved in character. Still, Saorise’s father hadn’t loved her mother any less. The Caramorts rarely married outside of the East’s borders, but on a trade venture to the south, the young Nathan Caramort had been completely taken by Elizabeth Ranore.

They’d married within the year, and Elizabeth had been introduced to the mysterious East that many viewed as the land of savages and simpletons. Oh, how wrong they were…

It had taken some getting used to, but being blessed with three children had helped her see the strange land as her home. Her eldest son, Isaac, her daughter Saorise, and her youngest son, Lyle. Her three children had been her pride and joy, even if they were brought up knowing more about the East than her homeland of Clarisse in the south.

Elizabeth had ensured that her children knew the customs of the kingdoms outside of the East. As children of House Caramort, they would have been taught anyway, but Elizabeth took pride in teaching her children. She’d been especially pleased to witness Saorise’s adulthood ball when her daughter turned sixteen. A feeling of pride that a mother could only share with her daughter. While such balls were practiced in the East, they were less gaudy and magnificent, and the East also held more ancient-like traditions as well.

The Caramort children of this generation had managed to find themselves immersed in traditions of both lands, and feeling not the least bit outcast in doing so.

Their mother had passed less than a year after Saorise’s adulthood ball. It had been quite devastating for them, for Nathan especially.

The Kingdoms had seen a weakness, an opportune silence from the East, they had rushed to take that vast and plentiful land they all hungered after. And none had rushed faster than the Kingdom of Wendolan.

The Continent was vast and was fought over by many kingdoms and cultures. The majority of them were situated in the larger southern part, but Wendolan was without a doubt the greatest power in the northern part of the continent. Wendolan controlled the central and northern lands, and had made inroads into the young and less dominant Dukedoms in the west just two generations ago. They were a prideful and powerful people. Driven in the knowledge that their Royal Bloodline also had a significant story. They were said to be descendants of the God of War. Those who had seen them in battle would never deny such a claim.

When the armies of both Wendolan and the southern country of Clarisse attacked, Isaac had been sent to deal with the south. Their excuse for attacking lay in the Caramort bloodline. The heirs had southern blood thanks to their deceased mother, therefore, the East should give its due to Clarisse. Nathan and his youngest son, Lyle, who was only a few months off of sixteen, left to deal with Wendolan further north on the border. Saorise was left at the Caramort Keep to maintain the peace of the noble families in the East.

Saorise had been brought up a warrior, but did not enjoy shedding blood. She was relieved to not have to fight, and instead led the people at home with a diligence that left those around her in awe. But it had been three years since the start of the war.

The south had been beaten back within months, her elder brother’s prowess and strategies not to be underestimated. He had taught Clarisse that though he had the southern blood of his mother, he was a Caramort of the East, and the East bowed to no one. Clarisse feigned momentary loss of reason, and adhered to Isaac’s demands before settling back to their own lands.

Wendolan however, put up a much more challenging fight. Even after Isaac joined his father and brother, they were still pushed back through several Eastern regions until they reached the River Arnoc. The river was the largest source of water in the northern part of the forest, and ran northeast to southwest. The Eastern army burned the few bridges that existed along it, and thanks to the River’s breadth, had been able to defend the position for a year.

But the fact that the East had been pushed back, losing twenty regions in the process, was a blow to their resolve. Thanks to the manpower that Wendolan had, the East had no hope of retaking their land without severe casualties.

Even now, the refugees pleaded with Saorise at the Caramort Keep to take back their lands. Saorise, despite her benevolence, could not give them an adequate reply.

“Lady Saorise!” Lady Helen called from the stone arches along the Keep’s side.

Saorise looked over from her perch to where her nurse maid stood, flapping her arms in distress.

“Lady Saorise please, it is too dangerous out there, you will fall!”

Saorise sighed in disappointment as she pushed herself to sit upright on the branch. She’d been discovered. She only hoped for a few minutes of reprieve from her duties. With her father and brothers so far from the Keep, its running had fallen to her for the past three years, and while she appeared adequate at it, there was no doubt it was tiring.