Untitled Book 1

Demetra opened her eyes into total darkness. Her internal clock told her it was time to get up, just as it has done without fail for the last five years. Demetra was a creature of routine and order and she loved the fact that her body woke her up all on its own precisely one hour before the sun rose. This afforded her the time to wash up, get dressed, make her bed, sweep the floor, and dust off her few belongings before it was time to begin her job. Demetra was one of the few people she knew who actually loved her job. She hummed contently as she did her daily cleaning; letting her mind wander she began wondering what she would be helping Cook make today.

Demetra knew that helping Cook with breakfast wasn’t part of her job description as the castles prison warden, but having grown up in the castle she not only knew how much her meager help in the kitchen relieved a burden, but it also gave her an opportunity to catch up on the castle gossip. Demetra didn’t have many friends, ok, she only had one- and he was more like a father than a friend- so the daily gossip was her main connection to the world outside the prison.

Demetra had never had many friends, and none her own age, but it never really bothered her. Demetra was an orphan and her aunt was the Queen. These were two very big stumbling blocks to friendship. It didn’t matter that the Queen didn’t care a sniff about her niece, the staff around the castle walked on eggshells around Demetra, which made her not fit in. It wasn’t until the Arms Master, Corinth, took a liking to Demetra that she got her first taste of friendship since her mother died.

Demetra couldn’t remember her Mother; she had died when she was only a little girl. After her Mother’s death, Demetra was sent to live at the castle with her royal Aunt, Queen Elanna.  The Queen wanted nothing to do with Demetra and so the girl was passed off to the castle staff to be raised by them.

Demetra loved to roam the castle as a little girl, always looking for secret passageways and hidden corners. She still had to stop herself, sometimes, from peeking behind wall hangings and pressing random stones in hopes of finding other passageways long forgotten. She had been a pleasant child who enjoyed being by herself. Not unhappy, but the staff saw her as being solemn with every smile tinted with a little sadness. Though Demetra tended to be a bit of a loner as a child, she soon became a favorite among the servants. She was helpful and she loved to sit and listen to peoples stories.

Demetra finished with her cleaning and made her way out of her private quarters through the castles labyrinth like hallways, down the stairs and into Cooks kitchen to help him make breakfast.

Cook gave her a smile as she walked in the kitchen, which she returned.

“What have we got to do today, Cook?”

“Let’s have you start on peeling the potatoes while I finish the bread making. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Demetra sat down next to a mountain of potatoes and began peeing away, once again letting her mind wander through the past.

As a child Cook had loved it when Demetra came and talked with him as he baked his bread and cooked his meals. He taught her how to knead the dough to make the bread light and fluffy, and how to cut meat just right so that it was both juicy and tender. The maids would tell her stories and make her laugh. The stable hands taught her how to brush and care for the horses and, when she was older, how to ride. Demetra loved all of these people, but her true love came when she finally got up the courage to befriend the Arms Master.

For years Demetra had watched the Arms Master, Corinth, teach the soldiers to fight. She loved to hear the metal clank together and watch the kind of dance that the men made as they fought. She would sit for hours and just absorb the atmosphere. Where most people felt chaos, Demetra felt calm. Demetra would watch the sword fights, then at night when no one was around, would find a straight stick and practice the moves she observed on a very unfortunate tree.

Thinking back on those early days brought a smile to Demetra’s lips.

When Demetra was eight she finally got up enough courage to ask Cook why the Arms Master didn’t teach girls how to fight. Cook explained that men fought and women stayed home and made babies. Demetra thought this very unfair and told Cook so, which made him, and the maids, laugh. Someone must have told the Arms Master because when Demetra went to the armament the next day to watch the fighting he called her out. Shaking like a leaf Demetra went to him.

“I hear you want to learn to fight.”

“Yes Arms Master, Sir,” Demetra replied in a small voice. She had watched enough to know that this was how she was supposed to reply to the Arms Master.

“Why would such a little girl be wanting to learn to fight?” Asked Corinth.

“Because, Arms Master, it looks like fun.”

“Fun? FUN? You think that getting beaten and dragged through the mud day after day with bruises from head to foot and sore for weeks on end is fun?” Corinth asked incredulously.

“Yes Arms Master, sir. I do think that it looks like fun.”

“Why would such a little girl think that getting banged up with broken bones and blood flowing from you be fun?” Asked Corinth, now extremely interested.

“Because, Arms Master, it does. I know that it is hard work, sir. I know that I am little and am not worth much to anyone, but I love watching the men fight. I like it when the swords reflect the light right before they make the beautiful clang against another sword. I like watching the men dance around each other watching to see if the other will make a mistake and looking to not make one himself. I love to see the men wrestle trying to get out of the other person's grasp before they are hopelessly tangled and beaten. I love seeing the men able to fight for their right to survive. I want to survive. I want to learn. So yes, Arms Master, I think it looks like fun.” Demetra felt more than a little sheepish after her speech. She was afraid the Arms Master would kick her out and tell her to never watch again. So she was more than a little amazed when he replied.

“Well then I guess you best come ready tomorrow, for I will not hold back just because you are a girl.”

And that was that. No fuss, just acceptance. And it was the beginning of the making of Demetra.

After the sun had fully risen and the mountain of potatoes concurred, Demetra bid Cook a good morning and made her way to work.