Jai'alan

It was the seventeenth day of the nineteenth month, and the High Council was in session. They met twice a month, on fixed days, and all of the noblemen’s sons spent the day inside, pondering the actions of the High Council. Each of them sought his own way to spy on the adults. None ever succeeded.
It was on this day that the youngest daughter of the Jae’el family aged her fourteenth year. This meant she would become a woman, and would be forced to marry by status, and not by love. She felt this was not how it was supposed to be done, and so she sought a way to enter the Council, to speak before them.
She had trained herself secretly in the arts of a thief since she was six, and the art of Blademastery since she was nine. If anyone could enter the Council without permission, it was she.
She looked into her mirror, and saw her reflection. Her eyes were a light shade of blue, her hair black and wavy. She was considered beautiful among the nobles, meaning the suitors would arrive rather quickly, and each would request an audience with her.
She donned her black robe, and pulled the hood above her head, to cover all traces of her appearance; her robe had daggers and lockpicks hidden throughout. She picked up the sword she had trained with for years; it had been used for many years, yes, but she cared for it well. She attached the belt and scabbard to her robe, around her waist.
Walking over to her window, she grimly recalled the night when her mother had seen her climbing out of it; her mother had bars placed over it. Luckily for her, she knew the blacksmith who fitted it, and requested he build a latch. Opening the window, she reached out, and flipped down the latch; it sprung open, without a sound. She climbed out, and closed it again before heading down to the ground, some three stories below.
It was winter here, and the air around her was well below freezing. It was a good thing she put on her robe; it was quite thick, and prevented the cold from getting to her. She neared the ground, and, noticing no guards were present, dropped down the remaining half-story. Landing perfectly, she walked over to the entrance to the Council’s hall. She had also practiced walking like a boy, and acting like one, knowing it would come in handy eventually.
The door was of ancient woodwork; it was old, yes, but still in good condition. She knocked twice, and a hatch slid open. A man’s eyes were on the other side.
“Who goes thar?” the man asked.
“My name is not of your concern. I will give it when I speak before the Council, as is my right as a man of another land.” She had studied the laws of the country, as all nobles were required to. Her trick worked; the man opened the door, and let her in.
Around the room sat forty-nine people. Each wore formal clothes, as if in a contest for most formality. All of them except the lead councilman smiled at her, and bid her welcome.
“Show yourself, to prove you are a man,” stated the leader; evidently, he had not fallen for her trick.
“Tell me, do you ask all newcomers to this land to stand naked in front of many men who may or may not have a personal liking for other men? That must be why people are leaving. I ask for a Trial by Arms to prove my manhood,” she replied coolly; she was ready for this.
“Very well. Who will face this outsider?” he asked of the others; not a one raised his hand. He walked grumpily over to the weapons rack in the back of the room, and drew himself a blade.
She drew her own blade, without pause, and without faking uselessness. They circled each other for a moment, looking for weaknesses and openings. She found one, and laughed, without attacking. The foolish man thought she had cracked, and attacked, arcing his blade down at her. She blocked and shoved him backwards by leaning forcefully on her blade.
He came at her again, this time more skillfully. She parried his undercut, and knocked his blade flying with the flick of her wrist. She put her sword back in its scabbard; it was dishonorful to fight an unarmed opponent.
Once again, he came at her, his face red with rage. “I’m going to kill you!” he shouted. She knocked his hand away from her neck, not pausing before she delivered a blow to his neck that would leave him unconscious for weeks to come.
“Anyone else?” She smiled to herself. She knew none would come forth to face her. When none did, she stated clearly, “Good.
“My name is Jai’alan, of the Ulan clan. I have come before your Council to state that you need to keep your women here. One woman for every three I have counted here makes her way to my village to seek shelter. Each tells me of the horrors of forced marriages to people they hate. Tell me, why do you persist?”
One brave man replied. One of forty-eight. “They do not love each other when they are married, but they gradually begin to love each other afterwards. You of all people should know that young ladies don’t know what they want!” She laughed at him.
“Each of the young ladies that ran away has come across a man they truly love, and have married them, with or without their parents’ consent! In my eyes, and the eyes of my clan, these girls should have a say in which man they are to marry. Of course, this rides upon you having one last chance. Solve the problem, and there will be no war. Continue to force women to marry for status, and if even one more runs away to my village, there will be war, and THEN we shall impose the very same rule once your barbaric village is under our control.” Once again, she smiled to herself; she knew how to make men do things.
“Do you understand me?” she asked, calmly. Not a one moved an inch. “I said, ‘Do. You. Understand. Me?’”



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