Isadora had given Anastasie the slip, an act which sent Dora's heart to hammering nervously as she eased the front door shut behind her and carefully danced down the front steps to the street in front of the townhouse. She'd been waiting for the woman to give her this very opportunity and she'd been waiting for what seemed like cycles.
And then it happened. Gradually it seemed, but happened nonetheless.
Isadora had emerged from the sitting room of the home and stepped into the outer gardens to find her maidservant resting fitfully upon a bench. That she'd been snoring--however quietly--had nearly ruined the moment for Isadora had let slip of a giggle, a giggle that she stifled quickly with the clap of a hand over her mouth. She'd been quiet, then, as she gathered her belongings and hurried from the home. Quietly. But quickly.
She couldn't allow Anastasie to know what she'd planned. The woman would disapprove. She'd be adament. She'd write to Dora's father. Isadora couldn't have that. She couldn't have that at all. So she was discreet, leaving Anastasie to sleep in the afternoon suns-light as she stole down the avenue away from the Concourse to some of the middle-class shops well-away from her home.
The shop she chose was a small one and nestled in a nook of the city that was hard to discern from the main avenue. She'd seen it by chance--a large pair of scissors hanging over the door frame catching her eye as she walked past--and as luck would have it there was no other customer in attendance save for herself as she closed the door behind her.
"Serale, what can I do for you, miss?" The woman that emerged from the back room was thin, almost too thin, with brown hair hanging limp and wasted about her sun-tanned face. She had brown eyes that squinted more than anything and she stood a little hunched in the door frame. Though her clothes were clearly of poor quality in fabric they were nonetheless well-made.
The hesitation was well-noted by Isadora, the words a little stammered. It was clear that there was a difference in their social standings for Isadora had not opted to wear anything other than her sleek dress of deep amethyst with the silver bracelet at her wrist and stylish black shoes adorning her feet. She looked upper class and a tailor of any skill would be able to see that the fabric was of good quality. "Yes, I was hoping you might be able to help me. The matter, however, is of a somewhat discreet nature and I might up the price you offer if you promise to keep what I ask of you quiet."
The woman frowned, brows furrowed, and she looked over her shoulder as if to see if anyone behind her might pose a problem. There was calculation in her eyes. "Very well, miss. How can I help you?"
Isadora stepped away from the door, as if determined to put more space between herself and those who might know her and pry into what she wished others not to know. "I need you to make me look like a boy. To dress me as you would a male around my age. I'm seventeen," she added, for clarification. "I need to ensure that it is...convincing."
The woman looked surprised only insomuch that her brows lifted, her mouth pursing. "Little Miss Fancy can't be doin' the same things the boys are doin', huh?" The woman snickered, but gestured Isadora further in nonetheless. "I can do that well enough. Come here. Let me take your measurements and see what I can do for you."
Isadora stood still as the woman took her measurements with a strip of fabric marked with ink. The woman talked to herself, but quietly enough that Isadora could distinguish little of the jumbled common that spilled from her. After she was done, the woman nodded and stepped back. "Your tits aren't too big." A lump stuck in Isadora's throat at the declaration, crude as it was. "Shouldn't be too hard to hide um. I'll get you a shirt loose enough for you t' wear and move around in then getcha a vest to be puttin' over it. I'll keep the trousers loose, too. You ain't much for curves, but you got a bottom to ya all right. Loose trousers will hide that." She stepped back, still inspecting Isadora's frame. "Any colors you got in mind, miss? Mind you we ain't have anything fancy like that purple you got on. No blue either. Mostly browns, blacks, grays. White. Is 'bout it."
She hadn't thought about colors. Didn't think they really mattered for this. "White for the shirt, if you please, and black for the trousers. The vest...that would do fine in gray, I think. Yes, gray for the vest." The woman nodded, chewing on the inside of her mouth. "Oh, and if you have caps, I would purchase one as well. And boots."
"You'll 'ave to see the cobbler 'bout the boots. We don't be carryin' those here, I'm afraid. Caps we 'ave, though. We 'ave plenty of those. You'll find what we 'ave on a rack over that way." She gestured. "You be pickin' that out while I be lookin' in the back to see if we 'ave nought that'll be fittin' you."
Isadora nodded faintly and strode over to where the woman had indicated. There were all manner of hats, mostly the sort you found on the heads of the lower classes, but some of the lads at the local school seemed to have affected hats of this sort as well. She picked up one that seemed suitable enough, a hat that she could tuck her hair into if she wanted. Most men wore their hair long so that was not the issue--the issue was shading her face in such a manner that the more feminine curves of her cheeks were distorted. The hat was gray to match the vest and to ensure that it did not blend with her hair.
"You're in luck, miss. We've a set that I think should fit you. Did you want to try them on?"
Hat in hand, Isadora turned around to see the woman staring at her, garments folded in her hands. She could see the white of the trousers and the shirt and vest, their colors distinguishable from one another. The thought of changing in front of this woman made her color slightly. "No, that's all right. Oh. Do you have...undergarments?"
The woman laughed, her tone almost cruel, and Isadora lifted her chin despite the flush that spread over her cheeks. "Oh, yeah, we 'ave those. Can get'cha some knickers made fe'r the ladies that be wearin' pants. More comfortable to wear under the trousers than the ones you wear with the skirts, huh? You hold a moment I'll find ya a pair." She did just that and wrapped the garments into a brown parcel at Isadora's behest.
"And the price?" Isadora's fingers skimmed the white and purple purse that dangled at her hip.
"For you, lady, one hundred twenty crowns."
Shocked, Isadora shook her head. "Those are hardly worth that much! I'll give you a eighty crowns, no more than that."
"One ten," the woman countered, clutching the brown parcel against her chest.
"One hundred crowns. I'll go no higher! Even then you're getting more than you deserve."
The woman scowled, but handed the package over and Isadora counted out a small number of bank notes that numbered up to one hundred and twenty five crowns. "Thank you," Isadora murmured to the woman as she tucked the boxy item under her arm. She left the shop then, eager to be rid of the woman.
Isadora's last stop was a cobbler. Thankfully she did not have all that far to walk and her explanation need not be so indepth here. The boots simply had to look masculine enough to fit. Thankfully boots of a common sort tended to be all of a similar quality whether or not they were made for men or women. There seemed to be little difference at any rate. She chose a pair of dark black boots rounded at the toe and folded over into a cuff along the tops. They were far from fashionable, but they would serve a purpose.
She paid twenty-five crowns for the boots and was on her way with her purchase, the cobbler asking little as to the reasons of a fancy woman buying such common, low-class boots. But he seemed content enough to sell them to her, especially for such an outrageous price, and Isadora was finally able to get back home.
When she arrived back at the townhouse she did so with caution, easing open the door and sidling inside with only the slightest of whispers of fabric against the floor. Unfortunately, the door squeaked, and when it did, a voice rose from the kitchen in the back. "Isadora? Is that you? Mercy, where've you been?"
In a panic, Isadora shoved aside the clothing and, putting it aside in a nook beside the door...and praying that Anastasie would not take notice in it. "I went for a walk, Ana. I didn't think you'd mind. Besides, you looked so sweet where you slept."
"Your father would have my hide if he knew I'd let you out on your own, especially with all these murders around town," she scolded...and Isadora knew it for the truth.
"I'm sorry, Ana. I'll not do it again." She bent and kissed the woman's cheek lightly. "I am up for a cup of tea, what about you?" Linking her arm with Anastasie's, the two women departed the main foyer with Isadora casting a brief, uncertain look at the parcel.
It wasn't until later that evening when Anastasie had announced herself suffering from a headache, excusing herself to bed, that Isadora was capable of retrieving the bundle set beside the door. She'd been worrying since her return home that Anastasie or someone else might stumble upon it, take it and announce that a package had been waiting unnoticed. They'd have watched her open it if they had and then wondered what person had seen fit to leave them a packet of men's clothes. Anastasie would have discarded it...or set it aside. She would certainly have confiscated it, announcing it unfit for Isadora's notice. Unimportant even if it was...odd.
Extracting the package from hiding Isadora carried the parcel up the stairs into her own room and once again ensured that it was safely hidden from Anastasie's prying eyes--the woman was, after all, her maidservant and more often than not took it upon herself to poke through Isadora's trunk and armoire for pieces of clothing. She didn't feel any less nervous knowing that Anastasie might eventually uncover it. And how then to explain it? Better that she found it near the door--but then Isadora had little access to it should she wish to grab the clothes up.
Resigned, Isadora took the stairs to the ground floor and returned to the sitting room. There was a desk in the corner, her father's desk, and stocked in such a fashion that there was usually parchment and quill lying in wait for the occupants of the house. She sat there now, retrieving the quill and dipping the tip in the ink pot. She hesitated above the paper and the ink dripped onto a corner, a smudge that she ignored as she debated whether or not the path she was choosing was, in fact, the best course to take. She could have attempted to make entrance at the gentleman's school alongside Snowden or perhaps seen to the academy that also catered to men seeking to learn swordplay. But theirs was a limited sword experience. El Viatre or fencing. Isadora wanted to learn to wield a sword in a more...practical...fashion.
And hence Master Junzo had come to mind, the elf she'd met through Thalia the afternoon she'd tried to allude Hector. He clearly had no issue helping a woman excel in areas generally poorly viewed upon, being Thalia's mentor, and had seemed pleasant enough. But could he be discreet?
With a shake of her head, Isadora returned her attention to the parchment and began her letter. She would take that risk. What she would do should he reveal her...well...Isadora would worry over that if the time came.
And thus she began her letter, carefully choosing the words that she knew might either deem her madwoman...or woman who desperately needed the help of a man. A man who could keep a secret.
Secrets :
Master Junzo,
I pray that you and yours are well and would spend more time on the niceties of salutations if my mind were not elsewhere as I write this. You might remember me, or you might not. My name is Isadora de Lunette and we met through a common companion, one Thalia Timandre, to whom you have admitted to acting as mentor and retainer. I realize that our own acquaintance is unfamiliar at best, but I would ask of you a request and your discretion regardless of whether you choose to aid me or no.
If my memory serves me best, you have given your services as mentor in the way of the sword to another. It is this same service that I seek from you, albeit under strange circumstances. These circumstances you might find unnecessary and foolish, but I believe them to be necessary for to be seen practicing the blade would be to embarrass my family. I am not prepared for this to happen, you must understand that, and thus I have gone to some length to unsure that this does not happen.
Should that you agree to teach with me, I beg that you agree to teach not Isadora de Lunette, but her cousin Theodore Toussaint, a distant relation visiting from Jaedaxia. It is an odd request and one I should understand if you refuse. I can spare a bare handful of candlemarks a brightening to meet for such purposes. One, mayhap two each brightening. Anything more and my maidservant might attach curiosity and suspicion as to my whereabouts.
Please, if you can humor a girl her dreams with discretion I would be much in your debt. I would not allow your services to go unrewarded even if I cannot publicly acknowledge them as others might. Again, I beg your silence whether you accept or not. Should you accept, please name me a location where I might meet you.
A thousand thanks and eternal gratitude,
Isadora
She signed the page with graceful flourish before sprinkling a drying powder on the page and folding it in such a fashion that it could be sealed with the green wax stick that she heated with a candle. She made no imprint on the seal, but left it as a blob of green that dried quickly over the folded page. She rang a servant then, a small lad barely more than ten ordinances in age, and instructed him to find one Mizushin Junzo for its delivery. She slipped him a pair of crowns for his silence and sent him on his way.
She expected little by way of a response that evening and tried to busy herself...trying not think of it. He would accept or he would not. It was merely a matter of how quiet the elf could be on the matter.
A simple letter delivered by a young lad, the thelyri had not given it much attention as he worked on the matters he'd thought would occupy his time. Between meeting new people and forming a network of contacts, training Arken and visiting the Timandre sisters, Thalia in particular of the three, as well as probing into the mysterious deaths and assassinations that plagued Daltina recently, it was a somewhat worn sea-elf who reached his dwelling place in the now-familiar Lancaster townhouse. He'd laid the letter out on his desk and considered the seal, a plain one.
Good wax though. He mused as he felt it and looked it over, having few impurities in its color and being smooth. Junzo eventually broke the seal and checked its contents. His eyebrows raised as he continued reading. What's this? It took him a few minutes to finish after which he rested on his chair silently, a faintly amused smile on his lips. He took up a quill of his own and pulled out some implements to write his reply.
Quote:
My greetings to the young lady de Lunette,
I find myself most curious in your proposition. Fortunately, I also consider myself somewhat of a demagogue and derive some fondness from teaching and the education of people.
I should hope that your cousin will be a most apt student, as my methods might prove somewhat difficult for most. But my questions are simple at this juncture: when and where might Theodore Toussaint be reached? I am familiar with the location of your townhouse here, and I assume that shall be the location of these tutoring sessions.
Yours truly,
Mizushin Junzo
He likewise sealed the letter, and would have it delivered first thing in the morning.
__________________
So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you.
1 Peter 5:6 (New Living Translation)
Isadora had risen not long before mid-morning, not being the sort to rise early when there was no true need for her to do so. By the time that she had dressed and descended to the common area Anastasie had come to greet her at the steps, a letter in her hands. "This came for you while you slept the candlemarks away," Ana smiled at the young woman, pressing the envelope in her hand. "Were you expecting a note from an admirer?"
"If I was, I wouldn't tell you, now would I?" Isadora responded, lightly...teasing...and she smiled at the older woman as she bent to kiss Anastasie's cheek. She truly was a second mother to the girl, perhaps more a mother than her own. "Is there food left to eat?"
"For you, lady, always. I'll have some brought to you in the sitting room."
It gave Isadora the opportunity she needed and she sat herself down in the sitting room, unsealing the wax to read it through. It was, as she suspected, from Mizushin Junzo, and she read it over quickly enough, nodding to herself despite the feeling of nausea that swept over her. Nausea because she was nervous. Nervous that this could go wrong. But he'd agreed.
She did not get a chance to reply until later that afternoon and she did so quickly enough for Anastasie would be quick to return.
Quote:
Master Junzo,
Words cannot express what this kindness means. I appreciate the gesture and write to inform you that Theodore will be staying within the confines of my own household and that you may meet with him here for the lessons. I am quite certain that he will prove a most willing pupil and should he prove otherwise I will ensure that your time was not otherwise wasted.
Theodore is most anxious to begin his lessons. If you could endeavor to begin the lessons tomorrow at the candlemark of noon this would be best. If you believe otherwise then, by all means, please do suggest a better time and I will be certain that his schedule allows for it.
My thanks,
Isadora de Lunette
She sealed it in much the same fashion as she had the brightening before and sent it on its way in the hands of the same serving boy into whose outstretched digits she placed another two crowns. Silence was, after all, paramount.
It was shortly before noontime that he'd arrived, at slight discomfort from the sun. It was not the heat that bothered him, but the dryness that such a heat produced. Still, Daltina was fortunately not a very dry city, being a port city and it was easily within his tolerable limits. This was even easier so, thanks to the season and the presence of a multitude of parks and trees in the Grand district, which made his frequent walks more comfortable than otherwise.
At arriving at the de Lunette townhouse the thelyri introduced himself to whoever it was that would greet him at the doors. "Mizushin Junzo, here to see Mistress Isadora de Lunette." He executed a slight bow at this. "I have been told to be expected." He had been asked to come at noon, and this was just short of it, which was proper for such meetings. He wondered what sort of ploy the young noblewoman was planning, but he was certain it would be fairly intriguing.
And also...I wonder what sort of assistance I could ask of her for my ventures? The question was also on his mind. He was not about to give something for nothing, at least not in this case, though he did perform some act of charity every now and then.
__________________
So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you.
1 Peter 5:6 (New Living Translation)
That brightening Isadora had done her best to concoct numerous reasons to send her nursemaid out of the townhouse for the span of a few candlemarks. Two seemed to be the sufficient number, although even something so small made her hesitant; what if they became absorbed with the lessons or Anastasie returned early...or left not at all? Still, luck had it that Anastasie was more than willing to take a couple candlemarks to herself while also doing some shopping for her mistress. It worked out for the both of them, in the end.
A serving man greeted Junzo at the door as he arrived, a man that Isadora had taken into her confidence only after a good deal of trying to discern how to win free of this without the usual gossip. He was an elderly gentleman and a respected member of their servants. He had dismissed the kitchen staff for a few candlemarks and had remained behind to tend to the household himself. "My lady de Lunette tenders her apologies, sir. She is feeling under the weather and cannot come down to meet with you. She does, however, not wish for you to have made the trip in vain and suggests you take company with her cousin Theodore. This way."
He led Junzo through the sitting parlor and out into the small backyard of the de Lunette property. It was largely cluttered with dazzling spring blooms and other green growths, but the heart was a wide circle of grass with two benches mirroring the edges. A lone figure stood near the fountain to the side of the yard, not at all paying attention to the fish that swum within the waters, but rather fidgeting with the simple clothing hanging loosely over their frame. The individual did not look at all comfortable, adjusting the fit of black trousers around their legs and the way the shirt tucked into the beltline.
The serving man dipped a bow as they entered the gardens. "My la--lord Theodore. You have a guest."
Theodore looked up, the hat pulled lover over his face masking facial features with an overcast shadow. "Thank you, Marin. Some refreshments, if you will." The voice was light and almost airy and for a moment Theodore stood there awkwardly, as if aware of some mishap.
He said nothing more until Marin had gone. "Master Junzo, I trust we can speak freely?" Theodore adjusted the cap slightly, shadows shifting to reveal the softer features beneath it. Feminine and hard to be mistaken otherwise; Isadora made for a poor man.
The thelyri nodded at the old man, wondering if he knew of the young lady's plans. As he was taken inside and as the relatively emptiness of the townhouse made itself apparent, it would seem indeed that this fellow was a confidante in this matter. Junzo kept silent of the matter for now until he was finally taken to the backyard where his new 'student' awaited. "Thank you," He whispered to the elder servant as he departed. Good help was always hard to find.
Mizushin took in a deep breath here and slowly nodded. "Very well. Let us speak frankly. As for me, I am wondering, for what purpose is this curious endeavor of yours?" He gestured at her outfit with a hand. "It is not quite as well fitting as it should be. Why go through all this to show yourself as a...man?" Though for the most part, a keen observer would certainly guess at Isadora's true gender. He wondered how to fix that.
__________________
So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you.
1 Peter 5:6 (New Living Translation)
Isadora had been nervous that she would be receiving her first guest--and hopefully her only--in the guise of a man. Standing in front of him now, listening to him, she felt her resolve begin to crack a little, her nerves getting the better of her. She tugged at the cap a top her head and might have removed it if she was not concerned about prying eyes. Perhaps it might have been best to begin their discussion in the safety of their home.
Determined not to let these nerves get the better of her, Isadora lifted her chin and turned aside to gaze down at the fountain with its fish as she spoke. "I am not Thalia Timandre, Master Junzo. I am not the stuff that she is made of." She hesitated, knowing that she admired the girl for her tenacity and yet feeling pathetic in her fashion that she could do nothing to emulate it. "My father has done much for his name with the sword. He is a man of honor, greatly respected by his peers and rewarded for his efforts with his estates, his titles. It is the same for him as it was for my grandfather, who fought his way to honor with a sword."
She turned back to Mizushin and let her eyes focus on him, straightening almost defiantly. "My father has no sons to continue that legacy and I know I can do this. I know that I can. I just need the guidance, the help. My father would never permit it, my mother neither. I would learn and one brightening perhaps I can show to him that I am worthy of the honor that he's brought to our house and that I may continue on that path when he can no longer. Is that a shameful wish? It is a confusing one, certainly, to wish to bring honor to a house when the very thing you strive to do might dishonor it, but..." She trailed off, shaking her head, knowing it to be a confusing, maddening issue. "You think this foolish? That I am making a mistake?" The questions were carefully spoken for she was worried over the response she might garner.
"Truly, now?" He'd little knowledge of Isadora's family. At least, little intimate knowledge to discuss. There was the normal things you hear from passing conversation, but nothing very personal. But here he was offered a glimpse of the young lady and her family, from a very personal perspective. "I've heard a little here and there of your family, as is common to all noble families. But the swordsmanship of your father is news to me."
The thelyri mused this over. It would seem that perhaps their desire and skill for the sword flowed in her blood as well. "I accept this. I shall teach you the sword." He answered her simply to that question. "As for honor, and foolishness..." He shrugged. "I do not think it foolish to follow what is natural for a person to do, to feel. It only must be tempered by just reason." Junzo looked at her carefully here. "And I hope to be able to provide reason to this venture of ours."
"What you're doing is, for most of Daltinian noble society, rather unnatural. But it is not something that hasn't been done before of course." He recalled Arken mentioning his own aunt, the Lady Irene. She was an adept at fencing as well if memory served. "But I do understand your wish to hide this, beneath the guise of a man. But still, we must do more than simply train you in swordsmanship. I do not expect that you will be able to make your townhouse cleared of people at all times." It would be too suspicious if that was done too often.
"To this end, we shall add something else to these visits: I shall teach you something academic, something which would get your...Anastasie, was it? On our side." He walked slowly as he spoke, his thoughts flowing as he began to construct, engineer a plan around Isadora's idea. "This way we shall be able to establish a truth to being your tutor, with the authenticity of your household behind us. If that is there, than nothing could possible 'expose' your desire to learn the sword, since truth is mixed here, truth to stand any eyes that would wonder what I teach you."
__________________
So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you.
1 Peter 5:6 (New Living Translation)
Isadora felt as if she could have thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him. The impulse was not one necessarily foreign to the girl, but it was one she knew how to control. She shifted her elation into a wide smile, her arms tense as she clasped her fingers tightly in front of her. She was restained, but noticeably happy with the elf's decision. "Thank you, Master Junzo. Please, do not hesitate to let me know how I might be able to repay your services." Her voice was carefully controlled despite the relief and the hope and the excitement that coursed through her. She managed only because of her training.
He was right, of course, about the townhouse and finding a reason for his presence that would not raise suspicion not only in her household, but outside of it as well; what would others think if they began to notice that the lady of the house sent away her servants while a man, common or not, came to pay her visit. "Yes, of course. You're right. I...will admit to having given little thought to the full scope of the matter. I thought only of the end result and little of the means that should be taken to gain it. As things stand, Anastasie has already been looking at me with some concern. She knows when I am not acting myself." The woman had been her nursemaid practically since she'd been born it was no wonder she could read Isadora so well. Dora had been content to let Anastasie wonder, but he was right. It was not the best way to handle the situation. "But what would you teach me?" She had no knowledge of the full scope of his own mind, only that he was a scholar of some sort or another.
Linear Mode
