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Corrhe Donahue Human-Female by Hannah Mathilde Little
Corrhe’s childhood was centered around her father’s craft. She spent as much time as she could in the steamy room lined with unforgiving instruments. She started out being limited to a stool in the corner of the room, her parents afraid that she might hurt herself on any one of the metallic objects. They told her that, if she could respect their wishes and for now confine herself to the stool and the path to it, they would eventually trust her with a more interesting privilege. She didn’t quite understand their meaning, but when she fidgeted, and shifted her weight, she noticed her parents’ worried expressions, and slowly built an understanding.
After a month or so, she had her parents’ trust and was granted the freedom to move about the room, provided that she kept her distance from the furnace, and anything… and they defined the term “pointy” to her. Corrhe had nodded in confirmation and proceeded to explore the room at closer range. It was the cutest thing her parents had seen: a child wandering a forbidden area, hands clasped behind her back, eyes wide open. Corrhe’s parents stepped to their daughter’s side, only when they got bored of gazing at a youth comparing a pair of dirks. “What are you thinking?” Her mother asked. “Not match,” was Corrhe’s concise answer. Her father pointed to one dirk, “iron,” and pointed to the other, “steel.” Thus Corrhe learned the art of smithing. Little bits at a time.
Pre-teenage Corrhe began challenging her father to duels. Her father convinced her that they should begin with sticks, but Corrhe soon grew in ability such that swords were reasonable. At this age too, Corrhe was allowed to plunge small objects into the water to cool. Her mother introduced Corrhe to jewelry making and how to emboss metals.
Corrhe had a sister, born four years after she, with very little interest in the family business. At her demand, she was sent to a boarding school. Letters were rare and unemotional. As she entered her teens, Corrhe found a newly assigned task, selling the family’s goods, to be a bit more entertaining than her previous activities. She would, if the customer wished, bargain for the best price. She was careful never to duck below the price her parents had asked her to sell the items for though. As her father grew older, her delivering orders to the castle became a more useful task. Her father came with her the first time, explaining to the guards that Corrhe would be coming in his stead. He had then shown to her the spot in the courtyard, where they would leave the order and pick up a small silken pouch with the payment. She thought it odd how there was no contact; just an exchange.
On the third or fourth delivery of a parcel, she had found a flower lying beside the pouch. She had thought little of it, and proceeded with the exchange. During the fifth delivery, she had thought she heard footsteps, but saw no one behind her in the courtyard. As she set the roll of swords carefully on the stone bench which lined the courtyard walls, she knew she heard something and wheeled around fluidly snatching a sword from the parcel. At the very sight of a frivolous purple hat, she had dropped to her knees, head bowed, sword-tip buried deep in the ground. “I frightened you. Sorry.” It was a careful and over-trained voice. “I should have trusted the guard to guard, and not been so defensive.” Corrhe had stated. “Please excuse me.” Corrhe yanked the blade, now soiled, from the ground. She wiped it off, and shined it a bit with the fabric that wrapped the swords. Then she had turned toward the archway to the front lawn, silken pouch in hand. “Wait!” The lad with the frivolous, actually rather pompous, hat wanted something. Corrhe turned, as she had been getting ready to depart. “Yes, sir?” “What would you have done with that sword?” “Why, wound, if not kill, you.” “How?” “With the sword.” “Show me.” The oversized feather in the purple hat bobbed, as the young man dramatically drew his sword. “I wouldn’t think it wise of me to answer such a request, when it comes to a lad wearing the king’s colors.” “I would think it even less wise to refuse a prince’s request.” “Touché” Corrhe selected a sword from the delivery. “Do I have your permission to use one of these?” “Yes.” Corrhe’s entrance into the sparring session was smooth, and unexpected, although calculated and careful. ‘Clang, clang, clang-clang.’
After the match, a few words were exchanged: “Not too bad, for a girl. We shall have another session the next time you come.” “It would be my honor prince…” Corrhe made a curtsying bow, as the prince simply bowed. “Wally, you can just call me Wally. I don’t enjoy being reminded of the prince part.” The next session they had, Prince Wally started right out trying to get an advantage. Perhaps he was a tad scared of the “girl.” Anyway, he had asked her as the first ‘clang!’ of the session rang out, “How do you spell your name? I have heard it as a masculine name, but not a feminine one. The spelling is likely to be different, but how?” ‘Clang, clangy’ “Uh, well,” Corrhe needed a second to put her thoughts together, she lunged and put some extra force behind her sword. “I haven’t happened upon the occasion to write it, sir.” ‘Clang, clang’ “Haven’t happened upon...! I mean: ah, how unfortunate. We shall come up with a spelling for you then. One that is different from C.O.R.Y.” ‘Clang, clang … clang’ “If you insist, sir.” ‘Clang, cl-clang’ “As I do. Now,” He hopped about lightly jabbing his attacks, showing how he was enjoying the challenge of English and sparring. “We better stay clear of an ‘I’ after the ‘R,’ it just wouldn’t appear balanced.” ‘Clang, clang –cla-clang-clang’ “What besides an eye, makes a sound like a why that is not a why?” Corrhe threw back at his comment, proud of how intelligent she thought her question was. ‘Clang, clang’ “Good question.” ‘Clang … Clang, clang’ “Look at the cat over there! He appears to have caught a mouse!” ‘Cla-clang-clang-clang’ “Ay!” Wally called out as the flat of Corrhe’s blade spooked him by bumping his left shoulder. “Odds, walls, and cats! You spooked me, and stay a moment. I think I’ve solved our challenge.” Wally knelt before a garden, where the grass had been taken away to be replaced by different plants. He had picked up a twig, and made some markings in the soil. Corrhe had had some schooling in the art of language, but, not an immense amount. “Currr… Curry. Do you mean to make food out of my name?” “No… try sounding it out again.” He pointed to the letters as he said them, “C.O.R.R.H.E.” “Corrrrrhhhhee” “Yes, does that sound like you?” “Sure. Whatever. Let’s get back to that sparring.” ‘Clang!’ “Alright.” ‘Clang, clang-clang, clang’
Upon returning from one of the semi-frequent errands to the castle, Corrhe gave an unusual note, from the prince, to her father. As he read, he explained that the family had been bestowed with the honor of making 30 swords, all embossed with a particular set of symbols. They were to be delivered as they were completed, and tested out by the prince himself in one of his regular sparring sessions with the lady Donahue.
“It appears that you have been ‘ladied,’” Corrhe’s mother had said. “And that the prince finds you a worthy opponent,” her father added. “As your instructor I am proud, and as your father I am overjoyed.”
When it came time to deliver the first sword, after several less important sparrings with the prince, Corrhe found not only the prince, but a few strangers in the courtyard. Wally, as by this time Corrhe was calling the prince, introduced the strangers as members of the Secret Service Guild that kept watch over the royal family. ‘Clang, clang, clang-clang, clanket’
By the 11th sword, the witnessing members of the Secret Service Guild had decided that Corrhe should be trained as one of their own, and that the swords were crafted well enough to be left untested.
Corrhe’s father made her a sword, not unlike the 30 the king had ordered, and her mother embossed it with the signature of the Donahue family. It was with that sword that Corrhe continued to spar with Prince Wally, and with that sword that she was trained for the Secret Service Guild.
They started Corrhe out with small missions, but soon found her trustworthy enough to join the real ranks and work on the teams. They found her to be of particular use in the weapons sweeps, thanks to her background in metal weaponry. She found that making friends in the guild was rather different from making friends of the street urchins, and only had a few comrades with the potential of being called her friends. Although Corrhe had enjoyed Prince Wally’s attention, lately she found him to be too, or was it not enough… something. Corrhe couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Her view of friendships in general seemed to be changing as she approached the end of her teens. She liked to be around folks, Corrhe found them interesting to observe, but, they were at times disconcertingly unpredictable. It didn’t take much to set Corrhe wondering whether a person was trustworthy or not. She was willing to trust, but not necessarily quick to it.
On several occasions, one Varhain, familiar to Corrhe from various appearances at the castle years before, was given the opportunity to give Corrhe some pointers, and save her neck. He was one of the few comrades with that friend potential. Once, after a few clamorous quarrels during a mission, there was a stretch of time to pass in an abandoned storeroom. Varhain had taken the opportunity to point out a sturdier stance here, and a swifter attack there, before they continued on the mission. Twice, on account of her foolish habit of talking while fighting, Varhain had cut in and put up a missed defense. Then there was the simple, yet noteworthy, “Don’t make a riot on the streets with the help of local youth, tomatoes, and your sword while you’re undercover.” And, “Ground bees don’t negotiate, or fight in duels, so run.”
At one point there was a bit of confusion in the Secret Service Guild (SSG). Corrhe wasn’t involved, but the sense that followed her commanding officer around, as well as a few of her teammates, was enough to say that there was serious tension regarding a member of the SSG. The locks were changed, and the headquarters was moved, so, it logically followed that someone hadn’t been as secretive and trustworthy as they needed to be. Corrhe didn’t understand politics very well; most often she did her best to stay away from the subject. It was unavoidable to have some understanding of what was going on about the kingdom though. It was becoming apparent that a certain duke was against the current reign. Signs of sabotage, treason, and all sorts of unpleasantries appeared. The SSG was busy, in constant motion over the next while, and similarly, so was Corrhe.
During Corrhe’s time in the SSG, Prince Wally traveled in and out of the capital city, only occasionally available for a sparring match. On one occasion, she was told to meet him in the courtyard. After asking some fairly pointless questions of the messenger, like, “Why should I go now, while the city needs as many soldiers as possible?” Corrhe came to understand that the prince’s requests took precedence over security. Upon entering the courtyard she saw, at the spot where she used to leave the smithy orders, a rose. Not just a rose, but a rose with a ring. Corrhe waited patiently, and stilly, as Prince Wally quietly stepped around a corner and came to kneel at her side. Before he spoke she turned her face toward him, showing an apologetic expression.
A sudden clamor broke out in the archway to the front lawn of the castle; there were guards scrambling toward the gates. “Excuse me, I must assist in the defense of the kingdom,” Corrhe had explained. Wally nodded, and stood, as Corrhe ran toward a covered stairwell at a corner of the courtyard. The stairwell wound down to a passageway to the city, where her team would be expecting her aid.
As she headed down the steps and through the passageway, Corrhe waded through some dense thoughts. “How can we stop all of this, without everyone dying?” “What will happen?” “Will I ever see Wally again?” She decided that whatever happened she would have to accept it, and move on. As planned, she met her team, and they joined the fray.
Various battling continued in the kingdom, for a while. The castle, and much of the inner city, was being reduced to devastating ashes and ruins. Most of the royal family was lost in an unexpected inner attack. The youngest prince managed to survive the tragedy, and was placed with a trustworthy family in the village. Little time was free to be used on searching the castle for any other survivors, not as much as Corrhe would have liked anyway. The SSG ordered that its members disperse in twos and threes to hide in safety, with hopes that they could later assist the king’s bloodline to rule over the kingdom once again.
Upon receiving her orders, Corrhe paused and contemplated the devastation for a moment, first thinking about how long it would take to rebuild, then wondering whether, and hoping that, Wally had somehow survived, and then moving on to where she would retreat to and with whom. When her mind came nearer to reality her eyes settled upon a subject just across the street. It was Varhain, going from building to building, discreetly spreading the word that the king had been overthrown by the duke. He was on his way out of the inner city, and he didn’t appear to have an SSG member to retreat with. Corrhe ran toward him, dodging between running children and horse carts.
Corrhe caught up with Varhain, and they agreed to travel together. Traffic thinned out as they left the city and approached the border of their kingdom. The Golden City became the general destination because of its reasonable distance from the pair’s own kingdom, and its seemingly stable economy. Only mild disturbances, and the occasional fellow traveler, were encountered on the roadway. They were simple enough little practices of their abilities: fighting orcs, wounding and warning bandits, acting innocent and uninteresting when travelers passed, collecting the occasional wild meal, and the like.
They crossed paths with an old acquaintance, although not necessarily a favored one, at an inn in the Golden Kingdom. It was Lishkoi, a fellow who had a few rumors to his name. Varhain had apparently trained with the man, while Corrhe had simply heard some stories and had once had a few drinks with him. Lishkoi made her feel uneasy. That first time she had met him was at a tavern back in the kingdom that was. They had swapped a few interesting stories, although just as likely lies. The experience had ended with a bloody nose, as proved to be the usual with Lishkoi, whose nose had the appearance of having been broken once or twice before. This time, Corrhe and Varhain managed to avoid adding to the violence that seemed to frequent that particular inn by continuing their travels deeper into the Golden Kingdom.
Corrhe and Varhain discussed ways to make a living, particularly the appealing ones; as in fighting, rather than farming or running a shop. While having a particularly philosophical discussion about how it would look if they were called back to the SSG to defend the kingdom while they were in the middle of a bounty-hunting job, they stopped for a rest under the cooling branches of an old tree. A young man that Corrhe and Varhain had been discreetly watching eventually approached the pair hesitantly with word of a quest. Despite the bells and red flags that seemed to toy with Corrhe’s head, she knew that they needed something small like this, finding some lost knight, to keep them busy. So they talked, and slowly but surely entangled themselves in the future of the endearing lad Iquin.
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