Raggedy Man: Part I
She sat within her caravan, and plush pillows, sipping at the finest wine and nibbling at the daintiest delectable, money and good looks could offer. She was the duchess of Garol, first daughter to the infamous Duke of Garol, Michael Demonte, who had single handedly, alongside his legions of knight errant, slain the barbarian hordes of the southern region's of the land. She the prized and Lovely daughter of this once revered Duke, stood paramount among the nobles of the south, always gaining praise and compliment's due her, by the other snobbish fops.
Indeed, she gazed at herself quietly from within her plush mobile palace, heavily adorned fingers with ringlets, jewels and agates, brushed passed an alabaster cheek, and fine smooth skin. Jade eyes as cold as the emerald amidst the snow. Long dainty lashes flickering over soft skin, and high cheekbone. Her Forehead sloping gently back into a raven cascade of beauteous hair, tumbling along shoulders and back in great locks, straight and unmarred.
A slender neck, lay riddled with necklaces of pearls, emeralds, rubies and gold amass. Silken gown of velvet and lavender, gently swishing with each soft jolt of the caravan beneath, yet she paid it no heed, for her reflection in the small hand mirror was captivating even unto herself.
She turned her gaze momentarily towards the front of the caravan escort, spying the equine mounts, pulling her forward, through the haze of satin drapes. Nose wrinkled in disgust at the driver of the small wagon, grimy and dirt ridden, her scoff at such an unruly man, her hand waving as if to dismiss him, though he noticed it not.
Long moments dragged by with the pull of the horses and the crack of the muleskinner's whip. Her reflection grew more and more stunning with each passing moment, a constant purse and pucker of lip, given at times, her eyes alight with vanity.
The dip and shift of the road beneath made little discomfort for the highborn woman, eyes glittering across the barren wastes beyond and surrounding. Long fields of sparse wheat grown out of desolate soil and sun baked earth. Gentle rolling winds caught only from the tundra off to the east, wafting through the sporadic grain sources. Life was little and poor if anything at all within these parts of the world, and it disgusted her to the core. To think her inherited money, some dozen coins of gold from the pockets of her own dress and manner went to feeding these miserable waifs and serfs. It was deplorably sickening to see such profit squandered on the dead and dying. Still it was considered good form to show some mercy and pity to the small populace living below the hills of her lush manor.
She smiled politely to the small throng of gathered 'citizens' below, lining the streets of a recently passed through village…or town whichever it happened to be. The dismal little hamlet left little to such a high born intelligence and imagination. She wafted her hand along the currents of gentle air, smiling disdainfully down at the multitudes of grimy people below, her high perch offering quite a smug appearance. Just the way she liked it.
The Duchess Demonte rode her stallion drawn horse farther into the small hamlet, reaching the more civilized reaches of the countryside. Dark shadows filed passed quietly, many a head turning to regard the dainty duchess within her richly saturated carriage.
She scowled savagely at a passerby, hacking a spit wad into the street, just to the side of the Lavish Caravan. Grime and parch ridden lips, clamped together several times over, as the old wizen character wiped a hand across the remnants of the spittle.
A flicker of her hand, sent the man to a makeshift chopping block.
Her smile returned fresh and now as the dirty features and faces below, took on a solemn stare, little a twitch or a blink going past her emerald half-glare. Silenced reigned like a dictator's order, among the populace. Eyes slid down cast onto the dust and earthen floor. Still yet many drifted off into the dismal display of huts nearby, anything to avoid the fate born to any that cross the line of fine manners. Guards slapped sword butts, and axe handles across stray limbs, as the caravan wound its way through the depths of the tiny hamlet.
The small town was soon left behind quite quickly, a daintily wrinkled nose and a word or two to the muleskinner, sending the horses skittering onward. To quote the word of the Lady Demonte, "the stench of this dismal hovel is quite pungent. Move along."
The road churned and rumbled beneath pebbles shattering under wood construct. Guardsmen hollered and laughed through crude and lewd jokes, only to be hushed by a piercing glare from the duchess of winter, on her high pedestal of frost. Long moments trailed passed, the wind and gyration of wheels and hooves seemingly the only sound etching its way across the currents.
Nails buffed and given a glance over, several times with an aristocratic flare of satin and velvet silk, gentle rock of carriage and car, setting her mood to bubbling irritably. Many a waspish and whip lashing comment sent drifting from beneath the drapes and canopy of fine satin silks.
Horizon brought with it the rise of a second town, a waft of fresh wheat weaved breeze and an exasperated sigh from fine pale lips.
"If ever we pass through another town, one of you guards shall be fell and sore on the 'morrow" The high pitched shrill and indignant tone sent a trembling mockery of fear through the assembled throng of guardsmen, followed swiftly by the crude and harsh comments and jokes accosted by these 'Paladin's' of the royal Duchy.
Slowly the caravan approached the second dismal settlement, comments and huffs of breath from the animals, both guard and carriage drawers, dying on the wind's passage.
Milling practitioners of the flaming breath, snake charmer and the ever-popular knife juggler, found themselves ushered into corners by the sudden appearance of the Lady Demonte.
Cheers and gay laughter erupted through the massive crowd, many hands seeking to shake or caress the Alabaster digits of the Lady Demonte. Her emerald gaze settled politely on several of the more podgy and opulent nobles, inclining her head patiently to the pinched features of chunky merchants and weasel like Con men. Slowly the entourage wound its way through the town, pushing past the homeless and hungry, trampling several beneath the rich ridden feet.
Long moments trailed past, the high lights of the noon hour being a momentary spat with a fruit vendor over a ripe piece of Pomegranate, before his neck was placed under the axe. Many clapping and cheers of "Bravo" and "Simpleton Deserved it" Shivering through the air.
She smiled kindly to many acquaintances, bowing her head to the arch priest of a local church of a god whose name she couldn't quite remember, and didn't care about. Her hand fluttered busily at the edges of the Satin robes hiked slightly at her ankles, brushing away dust and filth that seemed to collect like a beggar to a food cart.
"Give'a poor man a chance Luv'?" the words were a rasp through the multitude of people, a dingy hand clamping sharply over the satin silks trailing behind her, almost to the point of lifting her from her feet.
A Scowl and shrill shriek of indignant commands were sent shooting through the crowd, all of which parted before the sudden intrusion of her day's affairs.
He sat huddled along the dusty road, black rags and tattered clothing lay in heaps and patches over the spindly and wizen flesh. Tendrils of ropy tendon and ligament strewn free of their moorings and puddling around thin brittle bones. Face lay pocked and splotched through cheek and brow, dark brown patches festering anew with the dirt and grime gathered over the decades. A toothless grin leveled upwards at the Beauteous Duchess of Demonte, yellowed and blackish stumps where teeth once lay, eyes shrouded by the wrinkled lengths of flesh and gray brow. Hands spindly and wiry within their strong clutching grasp.
A note of disgust etched through the pale features of her face, hands waving frantically at the freakish monstrosity laid at her feet, motioning silent and stricken with horror to the guards for this vagabond to be carted from her sight.
Silence reigned supreme with its counter part the obscenity. The old man's struggles were quite audible and shattering, stumpy legs and thin arms raking and kicking out sharply at open spots on guardsmen bodies. Many a jaw sent reeling beneath a well-placed foot, the print left behind stench ridden and rancid. Many a stomach doubled inward with a gush of wind, as the spindly fists left their mark. Many a groin came under barrage, throbbing agony pitching through limb and life, paralyzing thought and motion in the fetal position.
She scowled once more, a hand flickering towards the executioner for the trip, a heavy axe brought into play, the butt splicing out sharply just as an arm and a leg were snapped by force, immobilizing the horrid creature. The sickening crack of the axe butt striking withered skin and brittle bone sent a quaver through the crowd around. Many faces turned away, and many puddles of half forgotten lunches strewing the dirt path beneath.
A wrinkled nose as delicate as the jasmine within the meadows, lifted airily to the sky, her tread soft, as she flicked a wrist at the old man once more, motioning a disposal as painful as it would be long. the guardsmen able to move as yet swiftly carrying the heaped and stagnant mass off into the crowd to be dealt with out of the Lady Demonte's gaze.
Screams peeled sharply over the air and wind, shuddering and wizen for lack of breath.
She noticed them not, continuing on her way through the throng of people, allowing her hand to be caressed and shook smiles by pinched features, and weasel-like con men offering smoothly to the Beauty of the south. She smiled in return, the screams of the Dying going unnoticed.
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