Tomas slipped into the garden alcove as Dawn was practicing a pirouette.  She wobbled, throwing her arms out like a windmill, and only just managed to twist her body to sit down hard on the stone bench rather than collapsing to the ground.

”Is that a part of a dance?” Tomas asked.

Dawn scowled.  If she didn’t know him as well as she did she would have thought he was making fun of her.

”No.  Not yet, anyway.”

”Are you going to make it into a dance?”

Now he was teasing her.  Dawn sniffed, then stood back up.  She held her arms out to the side for balance and lifted her right foot up and made a half turn on her toes.  “Creating dances is for dance masters.  Not ladies.  Ladies simply present them.”

”Oh.”  Tomas sat on the bench and watched as she finished her slow circle.

Their dancing lesson had been an object failure, so far as Dawn was concerned.  Dancemaster Maris had watched her attempts at a spin with his lips pressed together.  At least he hadn’t criticized her with the painful precision of Mistress Thorne the day before, calling her turn from a step to a curtsey a dog trying to imitate a cat.  It had taken all of Dawn’s willpower not to retort that one couldn’t blame the dog when it was being taught by a horse.

Truly the metaphor wouldn’t have been correct anyway.  It felt more like a dog being taught to fly by a bird.  If it wasn’t graceless attempts at pointless dances or manners, it was trying to calculate the space inside a triangle, or remembering which of the Great Houses took precedence over the others in what discourses, or memorizing the order of warlords who signed treaties or were subdued during the Conquering.  It was only these times between lessons that Dawn felt more in place.  At least, they were when she was able to wiggle out from under Whitcombe’s watchful eye.

”Is spinning really so hard?” Tomas asked.  Though there was no hint of judgement in his voice, there never was with Tomas, Dawn hissed through her teeth.

”It’s not just spinning,” she said.  “It’s a pirouette.”  She dropped her foot to the ground, her left leg sagging with the relief of not holding up her entire body on its own.  “And yes.  You give it a try if you think it looks easy.”

“Never said it looked easy,” Tomas said, but he stood up anyway.  Dawn instructed him the way Dancemaster Maris had, lifting one foot, knee bent, and spinning on the toes of the other.  Tomas managed to make a wobbly quarter turn before losing his balance, arms flailing wildly, and crashing to the ground with an “oof!”  He looked up at her, squinting in the light.  “Imagine if during a ball with all those ladies in their big gowns crowding the floor one of ‘em fell like this.  D’you think they’d all go down like dominos, knocking into each other?”

Dawn burst into laughter.  “If it were one of the dances that are in lines, probably.  Otherwise I think it would be a lot more chaotic.  Petticoats and dancing slippers flying everywhere.”  She held a hand out to Tomas to haul him to his feet and they both sat on the bench.  Dawn dug around her pocket to find the handful of nuts she had squirreled away during lunch.

”Cook shooed me away before I could grab any sweets today,” Tomas told her apologetically.  “Said she doesn’t need me underfoot while she’s trying to serve all them nobles who came for the Decent sermon tonight.”

“Are there a lot of them?” Dawn asked.  The heir-nominee wing was so isolated from the rest of the palace that an entire army probably could have come to stay and she wouldn’t have the faintest notion.

”More’n other years,” Tomas said throwing a handful of nuts into his mouth.  He ate as if he were starved.  He and Dawn were close to the same size and if his appetite was anything like her own, Dawn wished she could manage to sneak more than a pocketful of food away from the table.  “Cook said it’s probably because they want a look at Lady Misa.”  Tomas looked sideways at her.  “But maybe don’t mention that to her?”

Tomas was the kind of boy who picked up on the feelings of his friends easily and it hadn’t taken long at all for him to understand Misa’s apprehension at anything to do with her position and potential future.  Dawn nodded in agreement.

”It’s too bad for them,” she said.  “Whitcombe said we’re going to be in one of the boxes tonight.  One of those ones that are on the upper level.  They’ve got those mesh screens so no one can look inside.”  She rummaged around in her pocket again to pull out an apple and handed it to her friend after he had finished the nuts.

They separated soon after, Tomas returning to his duties and Dawn heading back inside to attend their history lesson with the Archivist.  Their meeting place was on the edge of the gardens so they could each easily reach it without going through the pathways, but now that she listened, Dawn could hear the sounds and voices of people walking the gardens.  She was so focused on listening that she almost ran directly into Madame Whitcombe at the side door to the heir-nominee quarters.  Whitcombe looked her over with a suspicious eye.  

”And where have you been, Lady Dawn?”

”Practicing my pirouette,” Dawn replied, perfectly honestly.  She crossed her arms.  “I don’t want to practice in front of anyone.”  That wasn’t a lie either and Whitcombe, for once, didn’t interrogate her.  If anything, she looked almost understanding.

”Lady Misa and Archivist Vale are waiting for you in the classroom.  Can I trust you to go straight there today, or do I have to escort you?”

Dawn pressed her lips together.  It had been a month of having Whitcombe coming to the doors of classrooms to directly lead her from place to place.  She was not going to be rude and lose her freedom again already.  “I’ll go there right away,” she said.  Whitcombe made a disbelieving sound in her throat, but stepped aside and let Dawn through without any more questioning.

She climbed the stairs more slowly than usual, dragging her feet with every step.  More and more she was feeling out of place with lessons in books and courtly behaviors, things she had never even thought about back home.  Her privilege of being a younger child had never seemed so sharp now that it was as good as gone.  All too soon Dawn had reached the door of the history classroom.

Inside, Misa was speaking to the Archivist, a worried look on her face.  Ever since the ritual in the chapel Misa had shed some of her meekness.  Dawn didn’t know what had happened in that back room, but when Misa had come out she had quite literally been glowing.  Like starlight.

”What’s wrong,” Dawn asked, walking up to the duo.

Misa wrung her hands, fingers linking through each other, twisting.  “The Assembly,” she said.

Ah, yes.  Ser Edric had brought up Misa’s first meeting with the Assembly of Ascension last week.

”Didn’t Ser Edric tell you that you wouldn’t have to do much?  That he and Priest Luka were going to do most of the talking?”

”Yes, but…I have to be there.  And listen to them talk about me.  And next time I have to do it all on my own!”

”Not for two years,” Dawn pointed out.

”And you’ll start rhetoric and speech with Captain Orator next year,” Archivist Vale added.  “He’s very talented and be sure you’re ready for the Assembly when it comes around again.”

Dawn’s brow furrowed.  Something about that name sounded…

”Orator?” Misa repeated, the concern vanishing from her face for at least a moment.  “Orator is his…name?”

Vale visibly winced.  “Yes…best if you don’t mention it.”

Dawn bit her lip to muffle a snicker.

”Now!” Vale proclaimed, clapping their hands together.  “Let’s get to our lesson.  I think it might be more interesting to talk about something more relevant today.  Perhaps it will help you to relax, Lady Misa, if we go over the history of the Assembly of Ascension and its purpose?”

Misa nodded and Dawn settled herself in a chair. Archivist Vale was clearly passionate about their work, their entire face lit up when they started a long explanation of some period of history or other, and it was hard not to be infected with their energy, even if Dawn was lost within minutes of their rapid explanations.

“The Assembly of Ascension,” Vale began, sounding as if this were the part they had rehearsed.  It always started like this, a dry opening before Vale's passion took over and the original point of the lecture was buried in stories, records, and speculations.  “Is one of the things that distinguished Aeloria from the other kingdoms of Varyth.  It's a democratic way of choosing our next monarch from within the royal family.  But how did it start and why is it so central to Aeloria’s identity?”  Here Vale's face broke into a grin and their voice became less stiff.  The real lecture was about to begin.

Vale turned to the slate board at the front of the room.  “About 400 years ago, 398 this year to be precise, Aeloria experienced its civil war.”  They scrawled on the board, a crown in a circle then three lines leading to three more circles that Dawn realized after a moment were meant to be faces.  “We are back in a time where seniority ruled, where the eldest child would be the heir by default.  King Armon,” Vale tapped the top circle, “fathered three children.  A pair of twins, Prince Tharion and Princess Elowen, and a younger son, Prince Vaelor.”  They added an initial to each of the three circles.  “There were constant squabbles over which of the twins was born first and the king died before naming one over the other as his heir.  Now you can imagine how this threw things into chaos, two potential rulers, at each others’ throats for years, and nobles scrambling to decide which to throw their loyalties behind.  But it didn’t stop there.  Prince Vaelor, seeing the chaos, decided he might as well throw his name into the ring as well.”  Vale turned to face the girls, arms crossed over their chest.  “What came next wasn’t just a civil war between the twins, but a three-way war.  For two years blood ran deep into the ground of Aeloria.”

”Didn’t they have to do the rituals for acceptance?” Misa asked, her dark eyes wide.  “Surely the ancestors could have chosen if the king didn’t?”

Vale simply shrugged.  “There were no rituals to ask for acceptance from the ancestors at that time.  And even if there were, who’s to say it would be enough to silence the dissenters?  After all, the way the rituals go now the ancestors simply give you their blessing as an heir, not as a ruler.  They can’t be expected to do everything.  Aelar ascended so Aeloria could rule itself, or so they say.”  This last part was whispered more under Archivist Vale’s breath and they waved a hand to dismiss the line of thought.

”Clearly that wasn’t working,” Dawn pointed out, somewhat needlessly.

”Well, it did eventually.”  Vale held up the chalk.  “Most wars as we know them now are…as ordered as you can hope.  There are rules, you see, between kingdoms.  But in a civil war all the rules are thrown out the window.  Betrayals, assassinations, whole-sale slaughters of armies.  Prince Vaelor was killed on the battlefield by his own brother.”  The chalk slashed across the circled V.  “More cold blooded, Princess Elowen was assassinated.”  Another slash cut through the E.  “Which left only Prince Tharion standing.  With no other options, the four Great Houses of the time crowned him king of Aeloria, albeit with wariness.  A civil war was far from a good beginning to a rule.”

”But Aelar won the kingdom in the first place through a war,” Dawn pointed out, her brow crinkling.  “And then there was an entire decade of warfare even after he was crowned.”

”True, but that was different.  Conquering is a far cry from a civil war.”

”Is it?” Dawn frowned.  “I bet the conquered thought it was way worse.”

Vale actually smiled at that.  “Spoken like a daughter of House Reaburn.  Perhaps Ser Edric will cover the differences in a political sense soon.

”Prince Tharion, now King Tharion, ruled as one might expect from a man who killed, or had killed, both of his siblings.  He was a tyrant, no doubt about it.  He used politics and fear to keep the Great Houses in line and used them to keep the population in line.

”So, how do you suppose Aeloria found its way out of this dark period in our history?”

Dawn exchanged looks with Misa.

”Come on, Lady Dawn, you ought to know this.  House Merridan was one of the central players in the creation of the solution.”

”Really?” Dawn asked, surprised.

”Mmhm.”  Vale turned to the board again and scribbled a few more things.  A V, an R, a D, and an H.  “The four Great Houses were of no help, so someone else had to step up.  Several of the minor houses, such as House Merridan, found another member of the royal family who they believed to be a better choice.  Lady Seralyn would have been on the chopping block had she been of age when the civil war was fought.  She was a charismatic and talented woman, both in combat and in celestial magics.  She was chosen by the minor houses and won over the wealthy and merchants of the kingdom.  The citizens of Aeloria rallied behind her and it took only three days of battles before King Tharion was dethroned.  And to show the change in regime, Lady Seralyn imprisoned him rather than having him killed.”

Dawn had found herself leaning forward, eyes wide as Vale told the story.

”The Assembly of Ascension was founded directly after Lady Seralyn’s ascension to Queen.  The Royal family and the Great Houses had to regain the trust of the people and so their affirmation was placed into the hands of the people.  It was easily agreed that the descendants of Aelar must continue to sit on the throne, but which member needed to be properly selected.  The Assembly now is made up of minor nobles and wealthy citizens meant to represent the people that you will be serving, if you’re selected.”  Vale smiled, clearly proud of themself.  ”Dawn, you seem to have taken an interest in things this time around.”

”Well,” Dawn sat back, “Queen Seralyn sounds…quite amazing.  I mean, if she was able to overthrow a king in three days.”

”That’s what they say, at least,” Vale nodded.

”What they say?  You mean it isn’t true?”  Dawn asked, feeling herself deflate at the thought.

”Oh there’s truth to it, no doubt.  Queen Seralyn was a powerful warrior and a strong politician.  If she were really able to win over the entire Kingdom of Aeloria and march on Asteryn all in three days…well, even legends must have limits.”

Dawn opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say to that.  Instead, she sunk into a thoughtful silence, only half paying attention as Misa battered Archivist Vale with questions about the Assembly.  How many members there were, how the voting worked, and other questions that ended with Vale holding their hands up and suggesting asking Ser Edric about such modern inquiries.

In the library, Dawn held her book, an adventure novel, between limp hands.  For once she couldn't wait for their religion lesson coming up, as questions about legends and limits swirled in her mind.  Misa noticed and, despite her own strain, attempted a casual conversation, but Dawn wasn't able to hold her attention to it and eventually they lapsed into companionable silence, Dawn focused on her thoughts while Misa struggled through mathematical equations to avoid her own.

When finally they sat down with Priest Luka in the little room for religious studies Dawn was bursting with her thoughts.

“Archivist Vale says that legends have limits,” she said.

For once Priest Luka's eyes opened all the way in surprise.  “Yes,” he said slowly, “that does sound like something they would say.”

“Is that true?”

Luka gave Dawn a long look before asking, “why is it you think I am the person to ask?  Why not ask Archivist Vale, since they are the one who first said it?”

Dawn should have predicted this.  Priest Luka never answered a question outright, he always make them rephrase and rethink until they had formed the perfect question or come up with the perfect answer.  But Dawn had no patience for it this time.  “We were talking about the first Assembly of Ascension.”  Luka nodded in understanding, casting a look to Misa before returning his attention to Dawn.  “Queen Seralyn took the throne from King Tharion, right?  And Archivist Vale said it took three days, but then they said that it probably actually didn't, that it took longer because three days is too short a time even for a powerful warrior and politician to take over the entire Kingdom and…” Dawn paused, sucking in a breath.  Priest Luka watched her quietly, curiously, not demanding her to ask her question right even though Dawn knew she wasn’t making any sense.  She bit her lip as her thoughts ordered themselves into what she wanted to know.  “Why would the story say it took Queen Seralyn three days if it actually took longer?  What's the point?  Even if it took longer she still had the skills to get the job done.  No one would think less of her just because she did a task in a realistic amount of time…right?”

Priest Luka gave her a long look, long enough to make Dawn shift uncomfortably.  With his eyes fully open he looked much shrewder, more intense and Dawn had no idea what was going on behind his usual jovial face.  Finally he nodded.  “I see.  I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers, Lady Dawn.  But I am impressed with your ability to ask such questions.  Many don’t.  It seems Archivist Vale is having a good influence on you.”

Dawn blushed and glanced down.  “Not really.  I hadn’t thought of it until today.”

”And yet still much younger than many who learn to question.  As I said, I can’t give you an answer, but I can offer you some speculation.  Legends give us something to look for in our times of need.  Imagine Aeloria in a state of war, may Aelar protect us from that.  We are at war with an overwhelming force, the people are afraid for their kingdom and their lives.  But our ruler reminds us that they are of the same bloodline of the great Queen Seralyn, the woman who ended a bloody civil war in just three days.  Do you think the people would be as rallied if they claimed to be descended from the great Queen Seralyn who spent many months planning with the people before making a move, who took a week before marching on the capital, who lost a score of many and lost her own life in a battle that should never have happened?  I dare say Archivist Vale could explain this better and give you many examples of it happening in our history.”

Dawn’s eyes grew wide.  “Is that true?  What you said about Queen Seralyn?”

Priest Luka sighed.  “Legends are not meant to be accurate, they are meant to tell a story that people can reach for when they need to.  People like Archivist Vale search for a truth that no one wants to know.  I commend them in their endeavor, however, no matter where it leads.  Truth and knowledge are found by asking questions.  Much like you have tonight.”

Misa now piped up.  “What do you mean by ‘no matter where it leads’?”

Priest Luka opened his mouth, then waved a hand.  “Nothing that matters at the moment.  With luck, it’s something none of us will have to find out.  Now, while I hate to derail such insightful questions, I do think we ought to talk about something a bit more pertinent.  Archivist Vale had a good idea to teach according to your reality.  Following their example, perhaps we should go over the story of Aelar’s descent from the heavens.  Tonight is the anniversary of it, after all.  Are the two of you going to the service?”

Both girls nodded.  Misa had expressed her interest earlier.  She had told Dawn that she had never been to a service at all, much less one of the holiday services.  It still amazed Dawn how much Misa didn’t know about what seemed to her the important things of Aelorian life.

Priest Luka as he  often did, asked them to recite the story for themselves and try t o discern the meaning from the story.  But Dawn couldn’t focus.  Instead of settling into the familiar story of Aelar and how he was called by the Veiled One thoughts of reality versus legend kept crawling in her mind.  If the story of Queen Seralyn wasn’t accurate, what else was?  And what did Priest Luka mean that it didn’t matter.  It seemed to Dawn that it ought to matter an awful lot.

Madame Whitcombe came to escort them to the Great Royal Temple.  They were to enter it through the royal doors, a private passage that led to the partitioned boxes above the great sanctuary.  Dawn was still distracted as Misa gasped at the grandeur of the great temple, at the mass of people who had come to hear the sermon.  She looked but didn’t see where Whitcombe pointed to show where King Theodren was sitting, reminding them both to be on their best behavior.  She heard only parts of the sermon itself as the priest spoke of the chaos that flooded the land that would become Aeloria, the warring bands, the instability.  How the Veiled One called to the heavens for a leader who could unite the people and the great light that flashed across the sky as a star fell to the earth.  Instead, Dawn found her eyes drawn to the glass mosaic behind the priest, the one that took up an entire wall of the large building.

Aelar stood proudly in the center.  In one hand he held a shining sword, the point lowered to the ground and in the other a star hovered, radiating light.  By his side, slightly behind him, stood his queen in royal robes, her hair white to signify her long life.  The Veiled One themself stood off to one side, watching with one could only assume was approval at the great hero they had called.

Aelar was a star, a hero from the heavens, a god.  Dawn had no doubts that the stories about him must be true, but her focus was on his queen.  She stood behind him, demure, modest.  But they had married long before the Unity Wars were over.  She can’t have simply stood at his side and done nothing else for all those years.  If Queen Seralyn’s legend had been added to, Dawn wondered with a jolt if Aelar’s queen had had her legend taken away.

After the sermon, they were allowed out on the balcony of the heir-nominee wing to watch the fireworks being lit and set off in the city.  The sparks shot into the sky and fell, just as Aelar had fallen.  Dawn took a deep breath of the fresh air.  She hadn’t been outside since her pirouette practice.  It was no wonder her thoughts were so cramped after being stuck inside so long.  Dinner was served outside so they could eat while they watched the show and Dawn finally felt the tension she had been holding the last few hours drain out of her.

”You were really stuck on the Queen Seralyn story today,” Misa said.  “I’ve never seen you so quiet.”

”Yes, I suppose,” Dawn admitted.  “You didn’t grow up on the stories, did you?  About the royalty of Aeloria?”

Misa shook her head.  “My mother told me about them, but after she died no one really bothered.  I had a household priest, but he mostly just told of the Aelar stories.”

It was probably better off that Misa didn’t know the stories of ancestors she had to live up to.  Especially if they may not have been so great as their stories claimed.  “It’s just a strange thought, is all.  That maybe things aren’t how they were told.”

Misa nodded.  “I can see that.  But I don’t think what Queen Seralyn is any less impressive if it didn’t go the way the books say.”

”No, I guess not,” Dawn agreed.  “Oh, it’s the finale!”

The girls watched in awe as the entire city was lit with a warm glow, dozens of fireworks being lit off from different parts of the city, soaring in the air.  Dawn glanced at Misa who was watching with a smile that lit up her face as much as the fireworks did.  Dawn felt her own mouth curve into a smile.  The story of Queen Seralyn hadn’t been the point of the lesson and Dawn was beginning to feel silly for having thought so much of it.  Misa was right.  It didn’t matter how things were remembered, either way Queen Seralyn had done what must have seemed impossible at the time.  And the important thing had been to learn of the Assembly of Ascension, a trial that was fast approaching.  Dawn was grateful that Misa could enjoy the show, but she knew that soon the thought of the Assembly would begin to weigh on her.  And Dawn could hardly be there to comfort her friend if her head were filled with questions of legends.