LEGENDS NEVER DIE
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Sometime during the night Prior Rigellia took a turn for the worse, and the entire Priory of Vridome were summoned away in the final hours of their work to attend at her bedside. This was a massive undertaking, as Vridome was considerably vast. The land sprawled across frozen tundra to the North and down into humid swamps somewhere to the South. Thus, the undertaking was considerable. Shean Aldain brought them together, and the naming of her name was written down in the Great Books for the first time.
In the way of momentous events, the people of Vridome remembered where they were when Heralds arrived to Criers, and Criers read aloud, and stomped and wailed the unwelcome news that Prior Rigellia, the Red Star and the Black Pin, the Grand Prelate of the North, First Guardian of the Temple of Vridome, was on her deathbed. Across Vridome, vigils began in town squares, in town circles, in library temples, in fields, and cowsheds, at fish wheels, and fish weirs alike. The grey flags rose. Travelers on the land stopped when they heard of it. Heralds girded against the cold found a peak or vale or any place where they could watch the comings and goings of the sun and the moon.
In Vridome, luminaries and commoners alike joined together to wait for the unwanted news of the passing of P. Rigellia Bone. She'd been abroad for over 600 years on the land. Most of mankind had never known Vridome without har hand at, or near, the helm of the great battleship sailing across the sky, which was how they often spoke of the country itself.
She was well thought-of in her age, even if her younger years had been full of controversy.
Shean Aldain had no time to dwell on her feelings while all of this was happening.
She'd been busy that day. That… year.
In fact, Shean had been bustling between her office desk, and her holy library when she'd been handed a slip of paper by a grey-faced Red-Star Herald. She'd had three city secretaries following her, really, biting at her like grass ticks, if she thought about it. Shean was busy enough without them. Though, she often reminded herself, they did important jobs well. She'd unfolded the paper and stopped in her tracks in the threshold of the wooden double-doorway.
Now, as a young woman working in the bastille of Vridome, the Clock of Vridome as it was sometimes called, Shean was well aware of the kind of behaviours that were considered societally acceptable for her. Clapping a hand over her mouth and breaking into sobs wasn't worth discussing. She was a Knight. She read it and froze motionless, to protect herself.
Alba, off to her right, stopped talking at once. Which made sense. Alba was a star-witch, and even at her young age, she was headed for greatness. There were some who thought that Alba Mene would be, one day, what Rigellia was—though those people were often laughed off since dark-haired Alba was considered too vain by some, too mouthy by others, and too sarcastic for most people to believe it possible. "Knight Aldain, what is it?" She asked unheard.
Next to react was the insightful young lord Shean had come to meet with. He was sitting in her library, which was the only place he would agree to meet. Loosely affiliated with the Priory of Vridome, Kaels Wister stood up from the high-backed lounger in which he—and all his fineries—waited. He smoothed his often fly-away black hair down and stood impressively still. He could sense that something had really gone wrong this time. And he, who was often up some cleverness on behalf of the Wister gens—the kinship group of Wister—didn't even risk moving before he had some idea what he was now up against. Shean's eyes darted up at him, Because he's a smart rich-boy, Kaels…. And his half-brother Kellus was rumoured to be much, much worse.
Continued: https://bit.ly/vellalegends The first 3 episodes of Vella stories are free! This is episode 1 of Legends Never Die, my Kindle Vella story.
