Mémoires de Camille
Première Partie: Missionnaire
White Halls all around me
I walk, I walk but I cannot reach it
The Door that I can’t see
Just before I wake, a mutter
It calls to me…Camille de la Saumure was there again.
White halls, marbled floors, and an endless expanse between her and where she wanted to go. The flowing darkness above had consumed the ceiling of the Cathedral, wanting to get closer but being repulsed. Her steps echoed without a response when she could compose herself enough to walk, but always, the dream would end too soon.
Camille woke with a start, gasping as if she had just come up for air out of the water. She sat up, catching the glimpse of someone peering into the small room of the
Victoire that had been set aside for her. Her head snapped to identify merely her squire, Alexandre. It was a force of habit after the war and she likely accompanied with a fight response as Alex scrambled over his words and retreated from sight behind the door.
“Ah my apologies, my lady, but we are due any minute for Brimsholm.” He said, keeping his head hidden for now.
“Thank you, Alex.” She replied softly, her eyes drifting to the mess on the floor. The
Victoire had been ripped apart by ferocious winds of a great storm they passed through in the Sound of Enth. Her room was a mess of belongings that lay scattered from last night’s storm swell. There wasn’t much sleep afforded to her passengers, let alone the crew.
Camille could still feel Alex waiting behind the door.
“Alex?” She called and without skipping a beat, Alex answered.
“Its.. Sorry, my Lady, but the High Somnian has requested that you be in full armor and regalia before we arrive.” She could see the blush on his face, already. As her squire, Alexandre was tasked with assisting her with her armor and although she was his senior by five years, he was apparently quite smitten with her. Claude had pointed that out not long after meeting him because Camille would have never guessed. Now it made sense, especially when it came to dressing her.
“Very well.” His head slowly peered in, becoming visible and the hesitation was obvious.
“You may enter, Alexandre.” Camille smiled, holding back the bit of laughter she had. She threw off the blanket and stood up and in her simple nightgown, she watched as Alex averted his eyes. She let out a silent chuckle as she walked over to the chest in the corner of the room. In it was her armor and all the bits and clothing she needed for this trip. She picked up her linen undershirt out of the chest before turning to catch Alex averting his gaze again. He still hadn’t entered and likely fully realized Camille would have to undress entirely.
Poor boy, she thought to herself with a touch of giddiness.
“I can dress myself at least for this part, Alex. You may close the door and wait a moment.” He nodded and retreated back, closing the door this time. Alone, Camille took off her sleepwear and threw on her undergarments for her armor. She opened the door and let Alex proceed with the rest of the dressing such as the arming coat and armor. Camille gave him knowing looks to put Alex on edge.
He was cute, timid for a squire, but he was very kind. He had soft features, clean shaven and slightly rounded like his favorite food was glazed croissants. She liked to torment him a little like this but the truth was, Camille didn’t see herself in a relationship. With anyone for that matter. Her calling was to a devotee of Dami and many in the Faith believe she shouldn’t distract herself from her duty. She understood and for Dami, she vowed everything, but there were times where she liked to pretend she wasn’t anything other than her duty. She’d dream of that simple life back on the sands of Morrilles like she never left, but Dami took her dreams, too.
“Alright, my Lady, that should be it.” Alex said, stepping back to retrieve Camille’s sword from her bed. She never let Dami’s holy sword,
Persévérance, out of reach. It was far too precious to her. Alex bestowed it to her and she took it with a grim expression. Her leave of absence was over and she had to go back to her duty.
Her and Alex emerged on the deck of
Victoire to the rising sun, clear of the horizon on this cloudless day. You wouldn’t have even believed the
Victoire had nearly sunk in a storm only a few hours ago if you were to go by the weather. Yet as Camille looked around, she saw the dogged crew working on repairs to the ship’s hull and masts. Whatever storm it was, it certainly felt like an omen of what was to come.
Camille passed by some sailors muttering as they caught their breath.
“Shouldn’t even be making these voyages anymore. The Eskandr are beaten, we should leave them be.” The man was young, maybe around Camille’s age, but she scowled at him as she passed. He didn’t understand what Perrance lost all because the Eskandr were given their liberty to invade. She, along with the Quentic Faith, were seeing to that never happening again.
Her hands tightened into balled fists as she reached the bow of the ship where a few stairs offered an elevated viewing position. From there she looked out upon the calm waters to the shore ahead where the large Eskandr city of Brimsholm sat. Traditional wooden Eskandr houses and buildings sat in a disorganized cluster with the more distant, perimeter buildings being seemingly half-buried in the dirt, but as Camille had been told once, it was a way to keep the house warmer during winter. It seemed, to her, an easy way to track dirt into the house.
Her gaze shifted up to the overlooking cliff that the
Victoire was soon to pass near. On top lay the impressive stone arches and walls of the Quentic cathedral and missionary, dedicated to Sant Eleanor. Although Camille knew it as Sant Eleanor’s Bastille, on account of the robust fortifications. It was an operating base for Quentic missions deeper into Northern Eskandr and it wasn’t the only one built up in the past six years either.
Camille sighed as she thought of home. This had been her home ever since the war but she thought of her real home back in Perrence. It was nice to see it again, at least. Even if the circumstances of her visit were not the brightest.
“Hooo! Steady!” A sailor called as he ran up to the bow leaning over the railing to look ahead at the stone dock. Camille followed his eyes but eventually found a familiar figure. Towering above the Eskandr and Perrench was a man in full armor, his helmet hid his face but she could tell he was meeting eyes with her. Ser Laurent of Relouse dutifully on time which meant they were being summoned.
Camille raised her hand and rubbed her tired eyes. She was way too tired to deal with his
eminence Arch Somnian Osric….
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