Birth of the Nightingale
Part 1 of the Nightingale saga
All these stories are loosely based on the Royal Thief character of the same name in the TopHat game “Evony; The King’s Return.” I get no compensation for these stories, and am not sponsored by them in any way, and I hold no rights to the original character.
These stories are basically my own idea on the character, creating a lore from my own imagination based on the original.
Korynne paused for a moment, waiting. Sure, in her short life, she’d had it pretty hard, orphaned at 7, stole her first thing a year later because she had to, and taken in by someone she thought was a kindly duke.
But here it was, year 101 of the second kingdom, and she faced execution for possible murder.
The funny thing was, she was innocent. She didn’t kill Duke Jabcab, not at all. But he asked her to do something that she’d never been asked to do in her 14 years, and now here she was, facing the axe.
As she stood there, waiting for the masked man with the sharp blade, she thought back over her life, as short as it was.
Yes, she’d been orphaned at a fairly young age. She remembered her parents, remembered them clearly, as the nicest people. Sure, they didn’t have much, but they were happy. And then the plagues hit.
She knew the rumors, that the duke and his family were already well off and that they’d never want for anything, but it was all just grown-up talk to her. It didn’t mean a thing when they discussed the fact that Duke Jabcab stole from others, filling his own coffers with treasure. It didn’t mean a thing when she heard them talking about the reasons why she might be spared.
But it did mean something when her childhood best friend keeled over one day, screaming in pain, two days before she passed away. It meant something to watch some of her aunts and uncles fall the same way. It meant that death was very real, and that it might be coming for her.
Sure, she couldn’t remember ever being sick, she never needed a healer or a doctor, but, when her parents both collapsed from pain, she knew that something was desperately wrong. She ran, not knowing what to do, looking for a healer, going from home to home, begging for someone to come and help her parents.
When she finally found one, though, it was too late. They returned to find her parents dead.
She couldn’t remember if she cried, or what really happened then. All she could remember is being escorted up to the Manor that overlooked the town, hearing more people screaming, and being introduced to the lady of the house. She remembered hearing that the duke was out of the manor at the moment, looking into matters of his estate, but being so afraid as she was led into the big house. Things were so big, so shiny, that she felt even smaller then.
And then they fed her some of the most delicious food she’d ever had. The concept of cake was new to her but she took to it like she was born to it.
The lady in charge of keeping the estate took care of her for about two weeks before she finally met Duke Jabcab. He seemed larger than life to her, sitting there in a towering chair, but one look at his face told her he’d taken pity on the poor little orphan girl. “Come child, let me explain the way things will work for you from now on…”
He told her that he expected her to earn her keep, a concept she hadn’t heard before, but that, if she did well, she’d be clothed and fed and taken care of. She’d want for nothing, and that she could have a happy life working for him.
As the years went on, she went from position to position, each time picking up things at a quick rate. She’d already become a master horse care person as well as a master cleaner of all the shiny things in the house by the time she was 10. By that time, things hadn’t seemed so big, but she knew why. She was growing up.
Still, she wanted to learn it all. She wanted to be the next caretaker, being the boss over the whole house, and was praised and told that might very well be the case by the time she was 20, one of the youngest in the whole kingdom.
But she also knew, she could feel, that other things were taking her attention. Every time the duke went away, he’d always come back with something and take it into the Great Dining Hall before he’d appear again. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, something stirred.
Korynne could remember something about the duke not being such a nice guy, about him stealing stuff. Could it be that he kept it in the hall? But how could she prove it if he was? How could she get away to warn His Royal Majesty, the only one she knew who could handle these misdeeds if it were true?
Korynne tried to put it out of her mind. She wasn’t some investigator; she wasn’t some police officer and she wasn’t military. No, she was a servant. She was Duke Jabcab’s servant. But what would happen if it was true?
She worked there a little longer, wanting to know what was in the Great Dining Hall, before she had a chance to actually serve dinner there to the duke and some of his compatriots. She was told, by the head caretaker, as she started, that her main job was to go in, lay the food down, and leave. That was the way the duke wanted it in the hall, just for them to come in and leave.
But Korynne was already told how intelligent she was. She knew things that others didn’t. She already had some of the basics of reading and writing, and was learning about numbers, even as she turned 12.
And she knew she was making the transition from girl to woman about then too. She could feel her body changing, feel things that she hadn’t felt before. It was frightening and exciting at the same time, knowing that these things could happen.
So, every time she was tasked to bring something into the Great Dining Hall, she’d look around, noticing things. Yes, it was ornate, yes, there were paintings on the walls and, yes, there was a grand fireplace there. Yet nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. It didn’t seem like it was really that different from anywhere else in the Manor.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing something, something important.
It all came to her one night as she was having a difficult time sleeping, a couple of years later. She knew what she’d missed, a single thing that seemed so ordinary, a single flaw in the façade.
She slipped on her nightgown and snuck down to the Great Dining Hall. She tried the door but found it locked, not really knowing why this door would be locked. If a thief were to break in, they had a whole host of treasure to loot from in the whole Manor house, but there really wasn’t anything extraordinary about the hall.
She didn’t have a key, but she had learned how many of the locks in the house worked. It didn’t take her long to find the right things to be able to trick the lock into thinking she had a key, two long, thin sticks. As she heard it unlock, she snuck in as the door closed behind her.
It didn’t take her very long to find what she’d realized she was looking for, a single frame, on the mantlepiece of the fireplace, that seemed to never need dusting. She’d been here long enough, 6 years then, to know that everything eventually needed dusting unless it was being used. But what would a frame, especially one that wasn’t so valuable, be used for?
She tried picking it up but found it was fastened to something. As she twisted it, trying to get underneath, she heard something unlatch.
She turned to find a door, built into the wall to hide it, ajar. She walked towards it, more curious than ever, and, as she reached for it, a voice called out behind her. “I see you found my secret Korynne. You always were so smart.”
She jumped, turning around to find Duke Jabcab behind her, his face hidden in shadow. “I have watched you, you know. Watched you grow from a girl into a remarkable young woman.”
The way he said this gave her a feeling that she didn’t like. “What do you mean?”
He reached a hand up, gently touching her face. “You are going to be so beautiful, and I think I need someone like you, young and vibrant, and so smart, at my side.”
She backed away from his touch, repulsed at the idea. “Duke, I’m only 13, not yet old enough to be married.”
Jabcab reached up, stroking her face again as she reeled back. “You don’t need to be married to know what I’m meaning, Korynne. You already have everything you need.”
She wanted to scream, wanted to get out of there, knowing what he was talking about. It sickened her, thinking of having him touch her like that. She backed up, going around the table to try and block him. “What do you want?”
Jabcab reached into the secret closet, pulling something out. It was a scroll that he opened with a grin. “I want to keep doing my business, but you’re in my way now.”
Korynne shot something at him. “You can’t get away with this.”
Jabcab scoffed. “I already have. I’m your master, Korynne, and what I say you do, you have to do.”
He stalked towards her, seemingly chatting the whole way. “I should congratulate you, though. It takes someone of great intelligence to be able to break into my private vault. Yet you did it without any real thinking. You’ll make an excellent trophy.”
Korynne took off, trying to get to the door as Jabcab grabbed her around her waist. “NO! STOP!”
She kicked him, kicked him hard enough that she felt him give way and wriggled out of his grasp. She had to keep her distance as she recognized the look on his face as he turned to her. “You should not have done that. Now you’ll pay.”
He grabbed the fire poker, stalking forward with the evil intent written on his face, seemingly desiring to not only do that horrible thing to her but continuing it on. He would probably claim that she hurt herself or that she was lying, if she survived.
She pulled a chair out, trying to block him, but he apparently missed that and tripped over it.
And she heard a sickening sound as he toppled over the chair and onto her. He looked at her, almost pleading, before collapsing.
She struggled out from under him and saw the end of the poker sticking through him.
With the fact that the Great Dining Hall was locked again, though, something she hadn’t even realized until she tried the door to get out, it didn’t look good.
Here Jabcab was, dead, a fire poker through his body, and here she was, covered in his blood.
The conclusion seemed so obvious to everyone. She’d killed him, even though she continued to protest her innocence.
It was an accident, after all. And she was trying to get away, but she was a servant and he a duke.
So here she was, a year later, knowing what was waiting for her.
Nobody believed her. Nobody believed that the great duke was a bad guy who’d try to harm her. Nobody believed the word of an orphaned servant who, admittedly, broke into a locked room at the Manor.
All they believed was that she killed Jabcab. All sorts of wild theories floated around about the so-called murder, but nobody was close to the truth. Some suspected something close, that he caught her trying to steal something, but there were also those that said that, due to her young age, she’d gone wild with passion and killed him due to him rejecting her. Some suspected that she’d even tried to confront him about something close to that, but that he rebuffed her advances.
The idea chilled her, but here she was, in front of the chopping block.
She knew she wasn’t going to be heard. She knew that, once that blade fell, they’d be spilling innocent blood.
Yet she resigned herself to that fact. Sure, while she waited, she’d continued to read and learn and gain a better understanding, but nobody would know. All she was to them was a murderer.
As the executioner came up behind her, she stiffened her back. “Are you ready my dear?”
She didn’t respond as Korynne knelt down, knowing what was next as she rested her head on the block.
With very little fanfare and with an audience that seemed both chilled and excited, Korynne closed her eyes, listening as the axman lifted his blade.
But then felt something else, something coming over her. It felt so pleasant, so good, that she had to smile. It was intoxicating, this feeling that came over her as the axman swung his blade and she felt the sharp end of the axe on her neck…
…Korynne awoke, feeling ecstatic, but checked her neck immediately. Her head was still on, still attached to her, but she had no idea where she was. She couldn’t tell what was going on for a minute as she felt around herself before opening her eyes.
It looked to be a barn of some kind, and she could smell the manure of the animals that rested there, animals that gave her little heed.
She checked her arm for a pulse, but gasped when she realized something. Something was definitely different. She looked down at her body, gasping again. It looked so different, but yet she knew she was the same. She felt all over her body, feeling that something was very odd, but familiar.
She found the watering trough of one of the cows, looking at herself.
Yes, it was her face, the same eyes and same features, but it was older, more mature.
She stayed there, in hiding, for a couple of days, listening at the tales of the dead girl and how she smiled as her head was cut off. But they said it was her that was dead, but she wasn’t.
And she realized something then. For some reason, during those two days she was dead, or she thought she was, she’d grown up. She looked older, more mature. So they’d never recognize her wherever she was.
As she left, she found out she was still in the same village she’d grown up in. The Manor stood atop the hill and people kept asking who she was. She gave a false name, saying she’d only just arrived, even those who thought she looked familiar but couldn’t quite place her.
But something had to be done. The truth had to be made known.
She’d done it before, and, with the fact that she knew all the ins and outs of the Manor still in her mind, she knew she could do it.
After all, she’d spent a year being labeled a criminal already, but, even better, nobody knew who she was, not really.
It took her another week before she had the materials she’d need, including something very dark to wear…
…as she snuck into the grounds, she threw the guard dogs a huge side of beef, knowing it would distract them. She’d done it before, and the skill hadn’t left her. She snuck into the house, silent and quick, and stayed to the shadows as she heard one of her former fellow servants talking about how much they’d miss Korynne’s singing. “Like a nightingale she was.”
She smiled at that. Nightingale. She moved from shadow to shadow, quickly and decisively, as the day went on before she found herself, in the dark, in front of the door to the Great Dining Hall.
A single doubt crept in as she prepared to work on the lock. “What if they already moved it?”
She tried the door, but it was open. She slunk in, silently, sticking to the shadows before she reached the fireplace, pausing only a moment to shudder at what nearly happened there a year ago. No, that was in the past. She truly was a new woman now.
The frame was dusty, which gave her hope, as she moved it the way she had before and heard the familiar click. The door stood ajar and she swiftly moved over to it.
She opened it to find scrolls still in there and opened one.
A deed to a parcel of land, owned by someone other than the duke. Another one showed the same and a third showed a gold mine.
All of them owned by people that weren’t Jabcab, all of this evidence of something wrong.
She knew what she had to do, packing in as many of the stolen property as she could before she moved on to the other stuff in the secret closet, a couple of bags of pure gold. She smiled as she picked it up, then made her way out of the Manor.
The next day there were investigators moving all over the place, talking about the break-in and the discovery of the secret closet. That’s when someone hit the nail on the head, that young Korynne made for the price of discovering this with her life.
But Korynne was dead. No, the swiftness of the break-in and the seeming ease that the thief made off with whatever they made off with gave her a name, one that she liked as she planned to deliver, in total secret, the documents she’d purloined from the Manor to the King of the whole area himself.
They called her, again, a Nightingale.