Nothing in my entire life up to that point could have prepared me for my first walk through the Capitol Complex. It was noisy, noisier than anything I had ever experienced in my life before then. The noise seemed like a living thing, like the roar of a dragon on top of everybody I ever knew shouting at the top of their lungs all at once. The noise was a blanket on top of layers and layers of scents, from the mouth-watering warmth of fresh bread to the sharp tang of a perfume cart. The colors were alive and shifting, a kaleidoscope of every hue in the world moving around and through itself all at once, shifting with some subtle pattern that hypnotized and overwhelmed me all at the same time.
I began to panic. There was simply too much in one place, and I was being washed away in it, and couldn't find myself. I couldn't hear myself think.
A gentle push at my shoulder, and I had something to focus on. I turned, and the Jhe h'... the Poet King was smiling down at me. "A little much at once?"
I nodded, unable to form words.
He kept one hand on my shoulder and continued leading me across the Complex. We reached the center, where a grand fountain stood, as wide around as my village square. The water cascaded down several sculpted levels, figures carved into the white marble, frozen in a story I couldn't puzzle out. The water calmed me, though; the white noise drowning out most of the dull roar of the crowds behind me, a faint breeze blowing from the water's fall. I felt myself relax, my shoulders dropping slightly, my legs no longer feeling like they were knitting together in a messy set of knots. I risked a look up, and the Poet King was looking into the water with a small smile on his face.
"I like to stand here and let it wash my troubles away," he said, and gave me a crooked smile. "Even if it lasts but a moment." He seemed to wait a moment, expecting me to say something, but my mind was a complete blank. His smile widened and he pressed my shoulder once again, guiding me back into the crowd. "Almost there."
Once we passed the fountain, the crowds seemed to thin a bit. Directly in front of us was a tall building, a central tower flanked by two wings that were as wide as the tower was tall. To my left, almost a perfect quarter-circle from the tower, was another building. It was lower and wider, and the semicircle entrance with its rows of columns seemed much more imposing than the tower building, with its elegantly flush entry that was open to all.
Around us, people were... well, at first glance they were going about their business. Some were walking, either by themselves or in small groups. There was one person on the ground, though, arms folded behind their head, sound asleep. The Poet King glanced down at him and chuckled, shaking his head slightly. There was another crouching and studying the courtyard bricks very intently, and yet another glaring very intently at the palm of her hand. The Poet King stopped in front of this one, staring for a moment at her hand as well, then giving the top of her head a puzzled glance.
"Jhe Emily? Could you please enlighten me as to what is so fascinating about your hand?"
The girl jumped and jerked her hand, nearly slapping herself with the motion, then laughed. "Goodness, Jhe h'Logos, you gave me quite a scare." She rubbed the back of her head, squinting with an embarrassed smile. "Well, you see, Jhe Gerald mentioned that Jhe h'Akribastes taught some of the Armed how to set things on fire with their mind, and he tried to teach me the trick to it, but he seemed to be having trouble himself and he just stepped away to go ask the Jhe h'Akribastes how to do it again, and..." She shrugged. "I just figured I'd keep practicing while waiting for him to return."
The Poet King stared at her a moment, his eyes twinkling. "Well," he said, "I would suggest that perhaps Jhe Emily would attempt to set fire to an object in her hand? Had you succeeded, my dear, you would have some difficulty writing for a little while..." He voice trailed off as her face turned bright red.
"Yes, of course. How silly of me," she giggled. "Of course, knowing me, I would have set fire to Jhe Gerald instead." She startled a little, her eyes widening. "Oh no."
The Poet King sighed. "Go check."
She took off at a run without even bowing her departure.
I stared in shock as she retreated, then turned and looked at the Poet King. "Aren't... sir, aren't you going to... Isn't there something..." I waved a hand and gave up.
He laughed. "This would hardly be the first time Jhe Gerald has been lit afire, and it won't be the last. Don't worry about him. Personally," he said, leaning towards me with a conspiring wink, "I don't think Jhe Emily could hit poor Gerald. It's much more likely that she hit--" There was a distant shriek. "Ah. Yes, that would be Jhe Tamryn."
I looked in the direction the noise had come from. "Who is..."
"Her brother." The Poet King grinned. "Siblings are dangerous things to have, aren't they?"
He gave my shoulder a gentle push, even though I had calmed enough that I didn't feel so pressed in by the Complex. "I don't have any siblings, Sire."
"Oh?" He looked down. "Well, that's a shame. Siblings build character."
I shrugged. "I have enough cousins to fill in, I guess. My grandmother assures me I have plenty of character."
"Plenty of character, but none of the sense that Theos gave a brain-daft horse."
"Wha--" I stared up at him, my mouth hanging open. His voice had been a perfect mimicry of hers. "How did... did you know Grandma?"
"Letitcia?" He smiled again, looking at the tower, but he didn't elaborate.
People were turning and looking at me now as we walked up the steps to the entrance. I felt awkward with so many eyes turned to me, but there was nowhere to hide but the Poet King's cloaks, and as kind as he was being, I didn't feel familiar enough to actually go venturing under the regent's robes for shelter. I brushed off the feeling of being watched as best I could, concentrating instead on the intricately carved doors.
They were beautiful, a stunning work of art all on their own. The many woods that made up the inlay were cleverly carved and layered, giving such a wonderful impression of life that I half-expected the leaves on the trees to blow in the breeze, or the horse to turn and whinny. A man in a curiously cut coat, similar to the ones worn by the guards at the gates, opened the door for us and bowed.
The Poet King gracefully returned the bow with a small handgesture, then turned to one side and ushered me past him with a wave. "Welcome to my Hall," he said, pride warming his voice.
As I walked through the doors, I acknowledged that he had every reason to be proud of this structure.
---
I expected most of what I saw there. The grand vaulted passageways, the way the tower was hollow in the middle so that you got the impression that you were staring straight into the heavens when you looked up, the number of people running about in near-identical uniforms, the dull roar of so many people in one place doing... whatever they did.
I did not expect the small ball whizzing past my ear to tag someone else further inside the building on the head.
I certainly didn't expect looking to the left and seeing similarly-uniformed people climbing each other in order to reach one of the high stained-glass windows, then launching themselves into space, only to hover for a moment before crashing down.
Most definitely, I did not expect to look down and see a wee slip of a girl, staring up at me with curiosity and a charming touch of suspicion. She glared up at me through her mess of red curls, then turned to the Poet King.
"J'h'Lete? He looks funny."
I choked back a laugh, and the Poet King reached down and picked her up. "Now now, Stevane," he said, grinning almost nose-to-nose with her, "it's not nice to insult someone before you've properly introduced yourself. After you've made your graces, you may belittle them as you see fit, and as is proper for the situation."
She looked back at him thoughtfully. "What?"
I laughed, and she looked at me, then laughed as well. I held my hand up to her. "I am delighted and honored to meet you. I am Blackirons Erynn, late of Robinstead."
"Blackirons is a funny name." The Poet King bounced her a little, and she giggled. "It is!"
"Your name, dear," the Poet King prompted.
"My name is Stevane," she said, giving him a very puzzled look.
He chuckled. "No, Stevane, tell him your name."
She looked at me, her gold eyes searching mine. "He can't hear me tell you?"
I laughed. "Nice to meet you, Stevane. Tell me, how old are you?"
She wrinkled her nose at me, puffing her cheeks out a little. "A lady never tells her age," she primly announced. The Poet King cleared his throat quietly, and she sighed and held up three fingers. "I didn't say it!"
"Your father will be remarkably proud of your manners," he reassured the girl. She beamed at him, then kicked her feet against his robes.
"Down now, please?"
He lowered her to the ground, and she took off running. After a few steps, she turned and gave me another measuring look, then curtsied. "You can join me for tea," she said, then frowned. "But you hafta wear a uniform, okay?"
"Okay," I said, trying for serious and failing. It was good enough for her, though. She took off running down the hall. "Elric!" she called, then darted around a corner.
I looked up at the Poet King. He looked at me, still grinning. "Isn't she adorable?" I chuckled.
"Yeah, she's... are they all like that?"
The Poet King threw his head back and laughed. "If you mean all children, no. If you mean all of Jhe h'Akribastes's children, then I'd have to say yes."
I bit the inside of my cheek. That was one of Gerude's sisters? I thought about it and laughed. "I can actually see the resemblance, and not just in the hair."
"Just wait until you meet the rest of them," he said with a wide grin, and beckoned me with one hand. "This way."
---
So, tea happened, and with tea came training, and with training came the stunning realization that I had no idea, absolutely no idea about how the world worked until I set foot into that Hall.
Early on, I made a few friends. I've seen some come and some go, but the core group of us that formed my first few years remains: Bronwyn, Cary, Amanda, and me. Gerude is now my bestest buddy that a guy could possibly have without it getting marital (and believe me, I'm not interested in marrying him for many reasons, the most important one involving three very sharp prongs and that eyebrow), and of course when Amanda is around, then Jax is too.
Jax. I... I want to like him, I really do. He's just... so... Jax.
---
Char's Notes: It's painfully obvious (to me, at least) that this wasn't exactly written to be part of the published story. It's a peek into how the worldbuilding gets done, though! Also, looking back, it's amusing to see how little we had done on this world when it was written. Beleth (the capital of Radia) still doesn't have a name, I still hadn't physically mapped out Robinstead or the families there, the actual construction of the Poet Hall was still a big question mark, and... well, little things here and there. The Halls series did do a major chunk of the background building for The Peacock King, though, so I thought it would be fun to share a look into how some of the background writing gets done.
