True Nobility

Chapter One - Awakening

A cacophony of voices filled the blistering summer air as Cadence trudged down the grimy pathway. Just like the blazing sun above her, their words beat down on her head like harsh, choppy waves. The festering whip marks on her back and arms, however, hurt far more than any words they could throw at her. Her heels burned with every step she took, her tongue was like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth, the shackles binding her wrists ate away at her magic like leeches. Escape was all but impossible at this point.

 
         A stinging pain exploded in the side of Cadence’s head. Blood began running down her the side of her face. She thought about turning to look for her attacker, but decided against it; the guards would only let her march to her death. She had lost the war and her family had paid the price. Her father was killed the day they found her, and her mother and brother were executed when the night they were sent to the dungeons. Today was July 5th, 1787: the day Cadence Richelieu was to be executed. Elves, orcs, dwarves, fae - creatures of all shapes and sizes had gathered to see her execution.

 
         “Step up!” the orc guard behind her snapped.

 
         He jabbed Cadence in the shoulder; she stumbled forward in response, nearly falling face-first into a murky puddle. The guard in front of her yanked on her shackles, forcing Cadence to continue stumbling to match his pace. The guards dispersed after she stepped onto the stage, joining the jaunty masses in their jeering. A haggard old dwarf soon joined Cadence on the platform. His cracked lips were drawn into a tight frown, and his furrowed eyebrows shaded his beady eyes from the intense sun.

 
         “Any last words?” the dwarven man spat the question out. Cadence’s gaze briefly swept across the crowd in front of her. Almost immediately, she locked gazes with a pair of brilliant amber eyes. They belonged to a woman with blonde hair and fair skin; Sabine Beauville. The mention of her name sent shivers down her spine.

 
         Sabine’s posture was the epitome of hauteur and contempt, her face like a mask of fierce distaste. Beside her sat Jean-Pierre Chastain, the Crown Prince of Beauxroux. He slouched in his seat, and his face had a weary look to it as if being there was a tiresome task on its own. Sabine did not open her mouth; and yet, her message was delivered over the tempestuous with great clarity.
 
         “Checkmate, Cadence.” Cadence felt as if her jaw was bolted shut; somehow, she managed to wrestle out a few words.

 
         “I have nothing to say,” she croaked. She ripped her eyes away from Sabine and the Crown Prince and looked at the grubby cobble beneath her feet.

 
         Slow, heavy steps filled Cadence’s ears as the executioner walked across the stage. She didn’t dare look up to meet his eyes. The hangman placed a rope around her neck then ambled over to the lever. A tiny, twisted part of her hoped her death would be quick. Cadence forced herself to tune out the vitriol of the crowd.

 
         The sea of voice crescendoed to a deafening volume. The wooden stage dropped away and the noose seized her in its wicked grip. The cheering of the crowd began to ebb away as Cadence’s life faded with it. Her final breath soon slipped away, and the icy hands of death claimed the despondent soul of Cadence Richelieu.
 

***



 
Cadence’s eyes flew open; a shrill scream ripped from her throat and her hands darted up to her neck to claw at the noose. However, instead of finding a coarse rope, she found a thin metal chain.

 
         “What?” she whispered in bewilderment. She looked down at her chest. There, on her collarbone, lay a strange quartz-like pendant in the shape of an owl’s head. The pendant was a milky white color, apart from the two dark spots that made the owl’s eyes. Her neck was tender and steadily pulsated with a dull pain. It was as if Cadence had simply had a nasty fall. However, the necklace and the bruise were not the strangest part of the situation.

 
         Cadence propped herself up on her elbows as her gaze slowly swept across the room. It looked exactly like her old bedroom in Les Paradis Chateau. Everything was there: the old vanity she picked out at the market with Cecilia, the cream curtains her mother had given her for her birthday, the practically brand-new divan she had bought years ago. Not a speck of dust was in sight, and a pleasantly cool breeze drifted lazily around the room. It was a far cry from the dingy dungeon cell she had been in just hours ago.

 
         The bedroom door abruptly flew open, and Cadence’s breath caught in her throat as she turned to look at her visitor. Standing in the doorway was Cecilia Micheaux, her lady-in-waiting. But Cecilia shouldn’t be there - she had been sent home when Cadence’s father declared bankruptcy, along with most of the other servants. 

 
         “Cadence!” Cecilia was at the side of her bed in seconds. “What happened? Are you in pain? Did you have a nightmare?” Cecilia's hand flew up to Cadence’s forehead almost immediately.

 
         “You—” Cecilia pointed to one of the maids that had followed her into the room. “—go find Nurse Émile -quickly!” The maid gave a sharp nod before she darted back into the hallway.

 
         “Oh, Cadence, everyone was so worried about you! You were so sick-”

 
         “Cecilia, what day is it?” Cadence asked in a quivering voice.
 “It is Thursday.”

 
         “No, the date, Cecilia. The entire date.”

 
         “It is the 5th of July 1783,” Cecilia frowned as she replied. “What is the matter, milady?”

 
         Cadence didn’t answer. She pulled herself up to the head of the bed as she brought her hands in front of her face. She turned them around, gawking at her soft, supple skin. Just a few minutes ago, it had been dry and calloused, not unlike the skin of a haggard farmhand. She pulled a lock of her in front of her eyes. It, too, had changed; now her hair cascaded down her shoulder in simple ebony ringlets.
 
         Was she dreaming? That couldn't be right; her neck was still bruised, and back and arms still stung, but there was no blood running down them.
 
         What happened to me? Cadence asked herself in bewilderment.

 
         “My word!” Cecilia had finally noticed the bruise. “Wherever did you get that bruise?” She reached out and brushed her fingers against, eliciting a sharp gasp from Cadence.
 
         “Somebody must have broken in,” Cecilia whispered, her voice tinged with fear. Cecilia picked up the bowl of water sitting on the vanity and began to wash Cadence’s face, fussing and fretting all the while. Cadence opened her mouth in an attempt to reassure the unsettled woman, but she was interrupted by another nighttime visitor.
 
         Nurse Émilie stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and nose turned into the air. Her high cheekbones and piercing gold eyes made her a sight to behold, but the intense frown upon her face also made her intimidating. She muttered as she ambled across the room - probably complaining about the abrupt awakening she had received. Cecilia was always quick to call her over for any perceived medical problems, even something as simple as a headache.
 
         The elf’s hands began to glow softly as she placed one of them over Cadence’s heart. She furrowed her eyebrows as she listened to Cadence’s heartbeat. The nurse then moved her hand to the young woman’s back. Émilie’s eyebrows furrowed even further; yet, she did not speak any concerns.
 
         “Young mistress—” Nurse Émilie pulled a container of salve out of her pocket. “—Where did you get this bruise?” Cadence winced as the elf rubbed the balm over it. Cadence opened her mouth to speak once more, but the words were stuck in her throat. Cecilia was a trained Candorian1; she could smell a lie from miles away. She would have to be careful with this.
 
         “...I just woke up like this. I haven’t left the bed all night.” Cecilia regarded her closely for a minute before nodding her head, seemingly satisfied with her answer. Cadence leaned back against her pillows, letting her shoulders slump. Nurse Émilie continued her examination though she appeared perplexed by Cadence’s condition.
 
         “I can’t find anything else wrong,” She whispered to herself. “Do you feel feverish? Any aches or chills?”
 
         “No. Is something the matter, Émilie?” Cadence inquired.
 
         “You collapsed at dinner three weeks ago. When I examined you, it seemed you had a case of Violet Fever, but now it’s as if you were never sick to begin with.”

 
         "I was sick?" Cadence asked the doctor in confusion.

 
         “Perhaps your anxiousness concerning your engagement ball was the cause of your sudden ailment," Cecilia mused.

 
         Cadence pressed her lips together and stared down at her hands. The first time her engagement ball had taken place, she had been perfectly healthy.

 
         "Cadence?" She turned her head to the doorway, where her mother was standing, chewing her lip, and wringing her robe. The maid Cecilia sent for the nurse must have also alerted her mother.

 
         “Is there anything wrong, Cadence?” her mother’s voice was like a gentle breeze - wavering and almost quiet enough to not be heard.

 
         “I must talk to you for a moment in private, Mrs. Richelieu.” Nurse Émilie gestured to the door as she stood. Cadence watched the elvish woman and her mother step out of the room. Meanwhile, Cecilia remained at her bedside, still fretting over Cadence.
 
         “Are you absolutely sure you don’t know how you were bruised?” Cecilia narrowed her eyes slightly.

 
         “I’m sure,” Cadence reaffirmed. “I was asleep the entire night.”” She added a tinge of fright to voice, to further reassure her lady-in-waiting. It would be more suspicious if she had remained completely calm. Cecilia sighed quietly and muttered something to herself before turning to Cadence once again.

 
         “Do you want something from the kitchen? I could have one of the chefs make something quickly.”

 
         “That will not be necessary,” Cadence responded quickly. “‘Tis late enough, anyhow. I will simply wait until breakfast.”
 
         “Nonsense! You’ve barely eaten in the past week. You must be starving,” Cecilia began to call for another maid.
 
         “I’m fine, Cecilia! There’s no need to be a mother hen,” Cadence protested. Her little jab at the end went unnoticed. “I just want to sleep.” Cecilia pressed her lips together, then opened her mouth to insist once more. Unfortunately for her, Cadence wasn’t having it.
 
         “I meant what I said. Leave me in peace.” Cecilia pouted but complied nonetheless. She was sure to slam the door as she left the room.
 
         Cadence stared at the door for a moment before returning to her thoughts. She listened carefully to her heartbeat as the grandfather clock in the hallway faintly ticked away. She pinched the skin on her arm; a sharp pain shooting through her arm confirmed her suspicions.

 
         There was no way Cadence could be alive right now, and yet all the evidence pointed to the exact opposite being true. Reincarnation was a forbidden magic, as it always resulted in catastrophe; the reincarnated would never come back “right” and the reincarnator would have been driven insane by their brief immersion into the underworld. Furthermore, only the most powerful of mages could even attempt the spell. No one in the crowd at the execution could have started it without drawing attention to themselves. She didn’t feel any different, either - aside from the phantom pains from her wounds.
 
         Were the last four years really a dream? Had she spent it all in a delirious haze? Cadence blinked and shook her eyes; she wasn’t mad. There had to be an explanation for this. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, three long low sounds ringing out to indicate the time. Whatever the reason behind her strange predicament, it would have to wait until later. The whirlwind events of today had finally taken a toll Cadence’s energy. She laid her head on her baby blue pillows, slipping into the gentle embrace of the Sandman.
 

***

 
“Cadence, the dress has arrived. Would you like to go see it?” Cecilia asked. Cadence did not answer. Her eyes were fixed on the light blue sky outside of the window. Cecilia, however, could her mind was elsewhere.
 
         “Cadence?” Cecilia called her name anxiously. She did not stir.
 
         “Cadence?" She called again, this time with a tinge of dread in her voice.
 
         “Milady Cadence?” Cecilia was almost shouting.
 
         “Hm?” Cadence replied with a start.
 
         “You’ve been acting strange ever since you woke up last night. Is something wrong, my dear?” A deep frown marred Cecilia’s face as she gripped Cadence’s hands.
 
         “I’m fine, Cecilia. I saw...disturbing things when I was asleep.”
 
         “About what?”

           “Nothing in particular. Just normal things that would happen in a nightmare,” Cadence responded quickly. If she told Cecilia about her plight, she would believe Cadence had gone mad. From everyone else’s perspective, she had simply fallen ill for a while. The only person that could keep a secret of this magnitude was Cadence herself.
 
         “My whole life was in ruins, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.” She continued, her voice low and soft. “The Prince despised me. He abandoned me for a random upstart.” She caught herself before she could disclose anything else.
 
         “It sounds to me you’re having ‘engagement jitters.’ That’s a perfectly normal thing, mistress.” Cecilia walked across the room and picked up the teapot sitting on the table. “It was not long ago when my own engagement ball took place.” A wistful smile made its way onto her face, and Cadence relaxed on the lounge. Now that Cecilia had gone off on a tangent she wouldn’t have to worry about telling her anything.
 
         “It was on a sweltering midsummer’s night, just like yours is to be, Cadence! I don’t believe we had a theme to it, though. Everyone just showed up wearing their best evening wear. Red was a popular color, however…” Cadence turned back to the window as she prattled on. It would be a while before Cecilia’s thoughts returned to Magus Terra.
 
         Cadence began to contemplate her situation once more. Was it possible that she had traveled to the past? That was another forbidden spell, however; one that she would have had to cast herself. Even if she had gone back in time, she would’ve been in the exact state she was in before, and she wouldn’t “returned” to her old body either. All the signs pointed to forbidden magic, but how could someone so powerful complete a spell like this without alerting someone else? Why would they choose to use it on Cadence? This would require further investigation. Although, it would be difficult to gather information without arousing anyone’s suspicions. If she remembered correctly, her father would be caught up in the Dramasse Scandal in a few months. Trying to find information would only sink them in further trouble.
 
         “... I ended up spending the whole night dancing with Hugo,” Cecilia had a dreamy look on her face as she stared at nothing in particular. “Oh, how wonderful that night was. Just imagine how amazing your ball will be, darling!”
 
         “Speaking of which—” Cadence interjected as she almost jumped from the chaise lounge. “—Shouldn’t we go see the ball gown? The deliverers have been gone for some time now.”
 
         “Oh, I almost forgot about the dress!” Cecilia exclaimed. “The butlers and maids must have been waiting for us to arrive. Why didn’t you stop me?”
 
         “You know how you are when you start reminiscing, Mother Hen.” She gave Cadence a light glower before moving to leave the room. She stifled a giggle as she walked out of the room. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the dressing room, where the maids flitted about the room, frantically searching for fabric and needles.
 
         “My God!” Cecilia gaped at the bright blue decrepit ball gown in horror. “What happened to the dress?” She asked.
 
         “The seamstress chose the wrong color for the dress,” a stout woman informed. “We tried to get the deliverers to send it back, but they refused! They said Mrs. Modeste would be greatly offended if we did.”
 
         “Vérène would never do something like this!” Cecilia gestured wildly at the dress. “Are you sure this is her doing?”
 
         “I’m certain, Madame Micheaux. They even showed us her signature.” The maid handed her a piece of fabric with a bird symbol sewn into it.
 
         “This can’t be right. Was there anything suspicious about the deliverers?” Cecilia interrogated.”
 
         “Well, now that you mention it…” the maid began to go through the events of the shipment in great detail. Cecilia listened closely, her eyes widening and narrowing at certain parts.
 
         Meanwhile, Cadence had remained focused on the gown. A million different spells rattled in her mind as she searched for a solution to her plight. A specific chant suddenly made itself known to her. In her previous life, this spell had been used to conceal her family’s hideaway. It had been used to keep her family safe when they were sequestered, and now it would be used to save her engagement ball.
 
         Cadence drew her hands to her chest and began to whisper the incantation. Her magical core began to pulsate, pressing gently against her heart and lungs as it responded to her chant. She took her hands away from her body, raising them parallel to the floor. She willed her magic forward, and it complied. It surged through her veins, still thrumming faintly as it gathered at her fingertips. Slowly, her hands begin to emit an ethereal light while she quietly continued the incantation. Cadence used her fingers to weave an intricate rune in the air. The rune, now finished, floated to the dress, enveloping it in a blanket of soft green light.
 
         Cadence relaxed as the last few words of the spell fluttered from her lips; the spell was complete. The only thing left to do was wait for the fruits of her labor to show themselves. The blanket of light disappeared and its place was a sight of supernatural proportions. The dress was pitch black at the bodice, which steadily faded into a dark blue further down the dress. Tiny white spots - stars - were clustered at the bodice and dispersed across the skirt of the dress. The stars rotated to match the sky itself, a different constellation taking its place on the starry dress every few minutes. A bright streak would shoot across the fabric of the dress occasionally, much like its larger cousins in the empyrean. Cadence’s celestial masterpiece was now complete.
 
         “It has been fixed,” Cadence announced.
 
         “Cadence, where did you learn this spell?” Cecilia gasped as she stared at the starry dress in awe. She froze. Cadence had forgotten, in her haste to fix the problem, that this version of her hadn’t learned this spell.
 
         “Éloïse taught it to me. She’s always been interested in things like that.” Cadence turned to leave the room. She paused just before she reached the door though.
 
         “Were the deliverymen acting strange? Did they seem off in any way?
 
         “There was this strange look in their eyes,” the maid answered. “I wanted to see if they were enchanted, but they left before I could do anything.”
 
         Sabine couldn’t have enchanted the deliverymen, could she? No, that was ridiculous. The couriers knew not to interact with anyone besides the receiver. Empathy2 was an ability that Sabine did not have; unless she had been hiding it.
 
         Even as Cadence walked back to her bedroom, the notion of Sabine being an Empath could not be shaken. If she could hide this ability, what else was she hiding? Cadence dreaded to think of seeing her at the Engagement Ball.

Footnotes
1  A Candorian is a mage with the ability to tell when someone is lying. They are very much sought out in the Beauxrouxian court.
2  Empathy is another ability that is highly sought after in the Beauxrouxian court. It allows the user to determine the emotions someone feels. It also includes the ability to manipulate the intensity of one's emotions. The strength of this ability is entirely dependent upon genetics.