Change

The creak of rough leather being crushed and stretched was a soft counterpart to the low crackle of a fire and the patter of rain against a window pane.

Nymaya sat hunched upon the edge of her window seat, the soggy lands of Iagothal stretching out in a mist-shrouded view from beyond the clear glass, slowly flexing her hand around the frayed remnants of her glove. The leather had lasted a good long while but, like to everything in her life of late, it needed to change. She needed new gloves, she needed new armor. New weapons, new everything.

She closed her blue gaze to the sight before slowly peeling the gloves off and casually tossing them into the hearth that blazed off to her right. Her hair was a curtain of silver that veiled her face as she lowered her head to run her hand back through the straight strands, so many questions racing through her mind.

There were only three people in all the world who had answers for her, and two of them were dead. The third, and she gave this one great consideration, would have what she was seeking but she could admit to herself that she feared the answer. There were not many people left who understood her so well...

"Countess."

The voice was soft, just this side of timid, and she lifted her head to affix the servant with a questioning gaze. A delicate hand held a fluted glass of deep red wine out to her. It was not a normal occurrence and red wine had never been her drink of choice. Against all this, she found herself reaching out to take the thin crystal stem.

The servant took hold of her black skirts and, after a practiced curtsy, departed the room. Nymaya watched her long black hair disappear around the door to the parlor and upon her first sip of the dry-tasting liquid, the soft notes of a piano drifted to her from down the hall.

She had never touched the expensive, beautiful instrument - and should have been angry that one of her staff would so boldly do so without permission - but she couldn't be angry at the grace she heard in the melody. At the depth of heartache and power that rose and fell with the flow of the music.

Turning away from the door, she set her faraway gaze on the sodden land outside the window while balancing the wine glass on her knee, and touched her fingers to the cooled glass, feeling the weight of her wedding band. Shewould find the burial site of her husband first, all else could wait.