Nanami

Tirian sat at the campfire, dinner settled, children playing in the woods as mothers cleaned up and men set store for wood, and hung the extra pheasants from the higher branches. The guards change shifts, giving rest to the outrunners and those standing closer to the encampment. The Lord of Broken Rampart, as was his wont on a peaceful evening, sat staring into the fading light around him, playing on a bamboo flute that was at least as old as he, he was quite certain. The music was lighthearted, with just a hint of melancholy at times, in general, but this evening, he played a gentle air that caused the kids to cease their games and engage in playful dancing. This was a favorite part of many within the encampment, making the evening tasks pass swiftly away, though Tirian was not often aware of the effect that he had on them. Tonight, he smiled with a twinkle in his eyes, an occurrence not all too common, as he played a lively tune for the children occupying themselves in the entertainment.

As the sun fell, the music sank as well into a gentle, ancient lullaby that his mother said was as old as the Kingdoms. The children were headed to the river to bathe, under the watchful guidance of their mothers, and the fire was dying. Tirian continued to play, but his mind was drawn into his thoughts. His day, like so many these past couple of weeks, was done. Dying Crane lay in the distance, across the fields and woods, and in his mind. Yuika was at her repose, rested in the watchful care of Nanami, her faithful servant. The flute is abandoned to its owner's pouch as introspection and careful thought commandeer his silence. He had given some thought to the young maid before, but could not reconcile her position, her purpose, her disclosure to the scene in which he was entwined. Of her kindness to Yuika, he had no doubt. But as to her purpose, he had never been certain. Why did she care so for Yuika and her health? She said that she acted on the instructions of distant allegiance, and Tirian was certain that she was to be trusted, at least so far as she had been committed to the plan. And he did trust her. He had allowed . . . nay, ordered . . . that her communications in and out of Dying Crane find their destination without harassment. Had he acted wisely, though? She was certainly capable of thinking for herself, though loyalty, he thought, was one of her greatest qualities. It would be folly, though, to think her a simpleton, for she was evidently of strong mind . . . and will. She freely admitted to having a separate liege.

Tirian sat back a bit further and thought towards the end of this train . . . Seira . . . that was her name. Tirian rolled it around in his mind. And Pale Twilight. He stared at the stars, trying to picture a Lady, perched in her house and meddling in the affairs of others. He chuckled to himself silently in the night. How perfect a fit that she would be, he mused, shaking his head. Who was this woman? And what person set their attentions foremost to the interests of other Houses? Did she know what dangerous game she played? He thought not. He decided not to judge, or at least to attempt the exercise, but he confessed to the night sky that his initial inclination was to dislike, though her desire to assist appeared to be commendable. He would not trivialize such merit. Of the House of Pale Twilight, Tirian could immediately recall nothing. But that it had been visited by a forefather was a distinct possibility that would require greater reflection, and leafing through the limited records that life in the wilderness had allowed. Whatever she was, Tirian admitted that he would like to meet this Lady, and judge for himself the level of her impetuosity.

It would be folly to presume to spread himself and his people thinner, but he could not help entertaining the idea of sending someone in search of Pale Twilight. He was certain it could be found with little difficulty, but the distance would be prohibitive. And why there, and not to deal more directly with the situation at Fallen Sakura. Tirian shook off the thought. No, there is a difference. One deals directly where we are at, the other is currently vengeance. And righteousness in justice finds its way best in course of time. Tirian stood up from the fire, intending to take a guard duty, for sleep would not find him easily this night, as he put together plans to inquire a little further of Nanami regarding her true Lady, and he continued to piece in his mind the possibility of connecting, by some manner, with the Lady of Pale Twilight.