#nezetta

The farming town of Apla was notable only, perhaps, for the vast depression in its claypan soil: a crescent which, when viewed from high above, was said to evoke the belly of a great beast in repose. The villagers whispered that the valley had been left behind by one of the terrible dragons felled by the Geda Astami in the time of conquest. There was no written record to corroborate such a claim, only the oral tradition of the local grandmothers.

The moment word of House Desmarais’ arrival reached Aphria’s ears, she had very quickly excused herself from whatever conversation her sister had tugged her into and headed off in search of her best friend. It had been far too long since she had been able to spend time with Nezetta; between the duties Aphria’s mother kept her tasked with and Nezetta’s role as governess to three young children, they were just too busy to see each other as regularly as Aphria would have liked. 

She made sure to keep her speed at a respectable pace, but she hurried all the same, gaze scanning each person, nodding to the ones she recognized with a polite smile. However, her smile widened into a grin when she found the person she was looking for. 

She put on a quick burst of speed until she was at Nezetta’s side, linking her arm with her friend’s and giving it a tight squeeze.

It is regrettable but expected that so many pre-conquest texts were lost or destroyed as our forefathers swept across the archipelago, flying the banner of Murat. Far more mysterious is the disappearance of written records contemporary to the Geda, a war which spanned decades and ended not quite two centuries ago, if one accepts the founding of Brix, the establishment of the Vinarex, and the construction of the great temple at Mount Sepurci as the markers of the Geda’s true end.