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The room she’d gotten from Lienna was more than ample for her. A little small but she certainly wasn’t planning to spend much time in her, sequestered away from the marvelous views the mountain offered. It wasn’t the ocean she was familiar with, no salt in the air or sudden gusts of wind carried in on the waves, but the dizzying heights gave one a perspective on just how small everything was in the grand scheme of things and she found that thought oddly comforting. Small was never something she’d consider herself or her goals but here, tucked neatly away from the rest of the world, she was content with it. 

Laughter bubbled up as she put away her things. How odd of her, waxing poetic over a sense of serenity. Perhaps it was that she’d have to stand still for a year, an unusual occurrence for her. She was certainly no stranger to travel, accompanying her father to Duke Reagan’s territory since she was barely past his knee and then to the other territories of the Alliance as she sought to gain footholds and allies. She shook her head as she neatly put away her books in alphabetical order by the author, set up her sword’s stand near her bed, and neatly folded and hung her clothes. It was true she’d never imagined she would stay still for quite so long but it promised to be just as exciting as back home.

Clarissa heard the ruckus of others outside. Lienna wasn’t wrong when she said characters of all sorts would be right there. Honestly, it didn’t bother her. Having the noise of everyone around them seeping into her room made it feel a little more alive. She put two wooden frames on her desk, smaller copies she’d paid the portraitist to make her once they were finished. One was her family, a portrait they'd commissioned shortly after her coming of age ceremony to officially declare her the heiress to House Edmund. She remembered how proud her father had been, how nervous and apprehensive her mother was, and how bored out of his mind the little six year old was at the time. The poor boy had been squirming in his seat from the get go but Mother hadn’t let him complain a bit. Clarissa knew things were still a little strained between them but it was the little things, like that, that reminded Clarissa her mother still did her best to support her. 

The other felt more personal. Years ago, Duke Riegan and her father bribed, bullied, and commanded them to sit still for the Duke’s portraitist. They must have been no older than 13, Jorah eager to cross his father at every opportunity and Clarissa unwilling to give up valuable time to sit for a [i]portrait[/i] of all things. But she was glad they did now that they were older. She survived hard times because of her friendship with him and while she had a sneaking suspicion the Alliance wasn’t large enough to hold Jorah forever, she’d always make sure a memory of her best friend was always around. There was a time when she once thought about joining him on the adventures he claimed with all certainty he’d have. The daydreams of a girl with no direction and no responsibility. Now, she’ll make sure the man always has a place at her table, just to make sure he always comes back home. 

She gave the place a final inspection, straightening a few things here and there, just as the dinner bell chimed. And just in time it seemed as her stomach made itself known loudly. Thankfully, no one was around to hear that. She pulled on the coat of her uniform, having removed and hung it for a moment while she tidied up, and took her leave of the room. She still hadn’t gotten around to touring the grounds but she could see what she remembered was the dining hall when she’d passed. She did give the green house and the pond a moment of her attention, resolving that at the very least, she’d visit those before she retired for the evening.

She hadn’t been inside it earlier but the dining hall was quite a bit larger than she expected.  Several long, sophisticated tables ran the length of the hall and she gratefully noted each sat on it’s own rug. She could imagine that stone got cold in the winter months and an extra barrier against the chill was most welcome. But the room didn’t keep her attention for long. The familiar aroma of fish in a pan of sizzling butter caught her nose and it drew her toward the front of the dining room where chefs were cooking in an open kitchen. A two fish sauté, her favorite, was sizzling merrily in a pan. Technically, the dish was from Enbarr but a merchant who frequented the border brought the recipe back and she’d loved it at first bite. 

A plate of butter sauteed fish in hand, she took her place at the end of the closest table. Honestly, she couldn’t think of a better way to start a new adventure.