Shouts and screams ripped through the usually quiet of the halls of House Farwynd. By the time Ygran and his young wife Oletha arrived, the servants were already there, trying to pull the offending parties apart. “Mistress Eister, this is not dignified!” One of the servants cried, before getting elbowed in the face and forced to let go. Ten-year-old Eister made no comment, plowing her fist into the face of her playmate with a self-righteous shriek, knocking the servant behind him onto his back. The boy drew up his hands to protect himself, having given up fighting back.
The two of them rolled around on the ground for a bit, until Ygran finally grabbed both of Eister’s hands in one of his own and dragged her all the way up into the air, still kicking and fighting. The old man didn’t look all that angry with her, a proud grin on his face. “What are you doing?”
“Baer was-!” She was still spitting with rage, and therefore not speaking very clearly. “Baer was being bad! He said girls are stupid and not good at anything! So I told him he was an unsightly son of a goat and he hit me!”
Baer peeked out from behind his protective arms, growing more confident now that she was restrained. “She shouldn’t say things like that. She’s just a saucy wench!” She hissed at him and kicked her legs again, as Ygran stifled laughter.
“Eister.” The girl turned her head and suddenly went quiet, because Oletha was not looking proud at all. Her arms were crossed across her chest, her lips were twisted in an expression that told her daughter she was absolutely livid. Ygran turned to look at her as well, noticing Eister’s change in demeanor. She smiled at him. “My lord, it seems I have instructed my daughter poorly. I assure you, it will not happen again.” She speared Eister with a steely gaze that made the girl wilt even further. Baer stuck out his tongue at her behind her back.
Neither of the two girls noticed Ygran’s face take on a slight grimace, before he straightened it back out and responded. “Oletha, the girl is just ten. She-“
“My lord.” Her voice brooked no argument. “If you would just give her to me.” He sighed, but let her down on her feet in front of her mother, who immediately took her hand and dragged her off to her room.
Oletha sat Eister down in a chair in her outer chambers where she took tea and took the chair across from her. Eister kept her eyes firmly glued to her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. At first, Oletha said nothing. She did not shout at the girl or threaten to punish her for her bad behavior. She just allowed the icy, disapproving silence to speak volumes for her for a couple minutes. “Eister.” She finally said, demanding the girl’s full attention.
Eister finally looked up at her, pouting slightly, though unintentionally. “But mother, I-“
“What did I tell you?”
“He was the one who-!”
“What did I tell you?” Oletha asked again, harshly.
The little girl sighed and recited dutifully, “A lady does not fight with her fists. It is for barbarians, boys, and peasants only.”
“And?” She prompted, when Eister paused for breath.
“A lady’s best weapons are her words. The correct words at the appropriate moment may bring down kings and their armies, and raise the dead as rebel banners.” Eister didn’t like this talk at all, and her tone as she said it was distasteful.
“Good.” Oletha said, satisfied. “Now what do you have to say for yourself?” She asked, clearly asking for an apology for her conduct.
Instead, Eister very properly rose from her seat and gave her mother a perfect copy of her petite curtsey, an almost comical gesture from an ungainly and plain girl of ten. “Nothing that would befit the ears of one of your considerable experience and stature, mama.”
Oletha jumped up and raised her hand as if to slap the girl, but stopped herself and slowly sat back down. Giving her a tight smile, she said, “Very good, Eister, you may go.” The little girl left the room and skipped down the hall, leaving her mother to fume silently.