A one way journey

The wind was blowing intensely, it could be seen on the way the tents were waving. Ophelia was not used to being on the road, especially not with this weather. She was born and raised in a mansion, not small but not big either. As the precious daughter of M. and Mrs. Biarn, she was born in luxury, and for that she could be thankful to her father. Her body shivered under the cold wind, and for that, she could also thank him.

She was to meet her soon-to-be husband. Or perhaps she already did. She could not tell, for all the soldiers looked the same in her eyes. She was indeed clueless as to which one she was going to be coupled with, but she was sure of one thing. To her they all looked scary, though… She had to admit, some seemed more ridiculous than others wearing their large uniforms. And perhaps they seemed a bit dirty as well. On that thought, she looked down at her formerly white dress and repressed a gag of disgust. The lower edges were completely brown, stained with mud. Her shoes, she did not even want to think about. For someone who always seemed one step ahead, her father sure did not plan the heavy rain that fell shortly after her departure. Otherwise he probably would not have had her wearing the most expensive dress she owned.

But her father meant well and she acknowledged that, as bitter as she was. He only wanted the best for her, for her honour, for their family. Or rather, for him. Yes, as grateful as she was , she was not oblivious to her father’s ulterior motives. Usually not so fond of the art of dressing, this time her father’s instruction had been really clear before she left home. He had wanted her to wear something white — to show how innocent she was, and how respectful he was, but also expensive looking — to show how fashionable she was, and how high in rank he was . He had her hair neatly tied, to accentuate just how much of an elegant lady she was — which in fact, she was not really. Sure, the Biarn family had money, but they were not the richest. Neither were they nobility. In fact, this arrangement to marry his daughter was just a way for M. Biarn to rise within the social rank of Merchaven. Higher allies meant higher ranks, higher ranks meant higher recognition, and higher recognition meant higher sales.

Indeed, M. Biarn’s fortune came from the merchandise he sells. And he had wanted to make a good impression, and show how much of a reliable businessman he was, when he decided to send his harmless daughter, dressed and styled like the purest virgin princess, to meet with one of the best soldiers of their district. Which was actually pretty ironic since her now stained dress, which was also stuck to her body, had her looking like the cheapest whore. She seemed out of place in this camp. Her former vivid white dress stood out of the crowd formed by hundreds of severe looking men, all dressed in dull and dark colours. All the men on her path were looking at her with attentive, but tired, glances.

« We have arrived. » Ophelia jumped at the sudden sound of her horrific guide.

« Do not forget to pay your respect carefully when you enter. Everything depends on the first impression you will make. » he continued with a sly smile. They had been travelling together for several days, it had been clear to her that she would get to change before presenting herself to the general.

« Do I not get to change my dress? I cannot possibly present myself in this state… » stuttered Ophelia through gritted teeth. She thought Cain was escorting her to her tent. She was well aware that having to go through nearly half of the camp with her stained dress and tousled hair made her look bad already. On top of that, she did not need to look ridiculous in front of the figure of authority of this camp. But her opinion mattered less, and Cain barely acknowledged she had spoken. As he got the permission to meet the General, Cain slid open the tent’s door and made his way in. Ophelia was already feeling her cheeks redden. He purposely sabotaged her… which after some thoughts she should have expected from him. After one look back towards the distant trees where the rough edges of the tents vanished, Ophelia followed his path.

The not-so-subtle scent of mud, iron and wet clothes tackled her nose first, then followed the blurry vision of dozens of weapons of all kinds scattered around and a desk where a heavy figure sat. Ophelia has always been taught to know her place, and to lower her gaze when meeting with powerful people, or rather powerful men to be more precise. A few seconds passed in silence. The atmosphere felt heavy, and Ophelia almost regretted the waves of the wind that struck her swollen face when she was still outside. Her guide was supposed to introduce her, yet he seemed inclined to embarrass her. It had been only a couple of seconds, yet Ophelia felt like she had been in this tent for minutes. Without wanting to dishonour her family any longer, she lifted her gaze to stare right onto the men in front of the desk and opened her mouth « Greetings sir, I — » Ophelia was cut short by Cain.

« Excuse her for the rudeness, My General, you know how peasants can be impolite. I offer you my most sincere greetings, and I would like to introduce you to Miss Ophelia Biarne. Daughter of the merchant M. Biarne, she is here to marry one of your soldiers ». Ophelia had her eyes deeply clamped on the ground, but if looks could kill she would have been long dead under the dark stare of Cain. She felt humiliated, having to present herself in this state, with this look, and with this awkward and insulting introduction. She did not know what she did, or rather what wrongs her father did to him, for Cain to behave this obnoxiously with her. He did everything possible to belittle her and make her feel as bad as possible.

Ophelia longed for her mother’s reassuring smile, and even her father’s proud one. But these comforting thoughts vanished quickly, for she soon enough felt wrath. Her father had sold her like a cheap doll for his own benefit, wrenching her from her home and family, and he did not even take the time to escort her here himself. That is how little she meant to him.

A single tear formed in her eyes, barely noticeable, and Ophelia focused on the weak sound of the wind hitting the tent. The weather had not been soft on her, it messed her hair, swollen her face, reddened and dried her eyes, but at least it had been with her throughout her journey. She could not say the same of her own blood. She heard the tent waving, the gentle crackling of branches nearby, and suddenly heavy footsteps and voices rising. But she did not want to be here, so she closed her eyes again and followed the melody of the wind softly moving the tent, after all with her head facing the floor nobody could see if she was attentive or not. Her biggest fear at the time was to have an anxiety attack here, in this suffocating cabin. Whatever the gentlemen were saying did not really matter, she was here to sell her body and mind and she did not have a say in the matter. This is when Ophelia realised what marrying an unknown man meant, especially a soldier. And she understood just how lonely she was about to get.