"I am Dmitri, son of Stefan of the Nagesti. I am telling these words to my good friend and grandfather of our clan, Zsigismund Nagy, who has taught me to write, but he being the master still, shall put these, my words, to paper, so that those who follow us shall remember, though we are gone from God's beautiful world.
"In the year of the Church of Rome, it is called eighteen hundred and eighty-three. Queen Victoria the German sits upon the throne of England, long these many years. The Hapsburgs still rule in Hungary, as do the Romanovs in Mother Russia. But in our home, the faraway land beyond the forest, the old noble lines fade into the mountains. But the clans remember.
"The clans remember the oaths of old days, taken by our ancestors, binding all of our line to their fulfillment, such is the nature of the spoken word. Our fathers before our fathers told us this, and we know it is true. The story of The Order of The Dragon must not be forgotten, and shall not by the Romany, their people..."
"The Order of the Dragon! That explains the crest at last!" Thurgood exclaimed. "But, I've not heard of such an order until now, and I thought in university, I knew them all..."
"Quiet, Thurgood, let her continue," Eason said, hanging on Percilla's every word with widening eyes. And Percilla went on:
"It is in this year, that the passing of the last true-lined member of The Order of the Dragon has come at last. The great lord, Mircea Szilagy, Baron of Sibiu', lies with his fathers. But not with him does the blood end. For among the Romany, we remember, that the good Baron, a man of honor, had one mistress only in his life, and that faithful woman bore him a daughter, the fair Elizabet'a, who has been raised among us, and shall be taught her true bloodline when the time comes.
"This document shall serve as the key, to unlock the true blood of Elizabet'a Szilagy, when it is time for the blood to awaken once again, and the Order be restored to its rightful place in the land beyond the forest."
Bttt
Percilla
bump to the top!!!
"But, what about this 'Order of the Dragon', eh?" Thurgood said. "In all my university study, I've not heard of such a thing. Percilla, if you really are part Romanian, did not your parents tell you much? I mean, you speak and read it well enough, we see, but what of any stories at all?"
Percilla, her arms crossed over her brest, hugging her arms as if chilled, was pacing up and down the room, framed against the light of the hearth. Her face was a mask of expressionless plaster, no emotion showing through. It was easy, now that her heritage was revealed, to see the dusky heat in her eyes, and where the jet-black mane of hair came from. But the mind behind those eyes betrayed nothing.
"Percilla," Eason asked, almost pleading, "Can you not give us any more, any clue that might help resolve this mystery - "
"Mystery! What mystery, and what clues, Eason?" Percilla suddenly rounded on him, her voice rising in venom. "My raving uncle falls dead on my floor - we find a key in my mother's locket - we dig up a box with a note in it - and what, pray, do you expect to happen? Nothing! I am Percilla St. Cyr, heiress to this manor, and I am NOT some wandering Gypsy-witch!!!" And she punctuated her words with the smash of a chair to the floor.
"Percilla, please, calm yourself!" Thurgood said, moving to her side, and touching her arm; Percilla wrenched away from his grip.
"No, Thurgood! Don't you see! Everything I've been told, and been taught, and everything you know about me, is a lie! That's what this parchment is telling you!"
"Percilla that's quite some leap of logic," Eason came in defending Thurgood. "This means you're not telling us something more, now please, be open and honest with your two closest friends, for if not us, then who?"
Percilla, still puffing hard in her anger, slowly mastered herself and, with effort, began.
"Both of you know the St. Cyr's, an old family dating back several generations in this community? Well, they're everything you've heard - upstanding, charitable, and generous. Until Mommy came into the family, so they told me. Chelsea Westerfield - whose real name was Francesca - was a foundling, adopted by Lord Westerfield, my grandfather.
"Edgar was Grandpapa's son - Mommy and he were half-brother and sister. I know that he knew something about this and how they argued about the "blood awakening" and "the return of the Order" -
"'The blood awakening'. Just like in the scroll?" Eason said.
"Yes, that must be what they were talking about that night," Percilla said.
"Well, there's your answer, isn't it?" Thurgood exclaimed. Edgar knew of your mother's heritage, obviously, and with them dead, it would fall to YOU to claim the inheritance. So he came here to wring the secrets out of you, so he could claim it falsely!"
"He did say, that he wanted to be here at the awakening," Percilla said.
"So," Eason reasoned, "with Edgar's pursuit of you, he thought the time to claim it had arrived. But what is involved in the claim?
"I couldn't begin to tell you, Eason," Percilla said, "because this was all a forbidden subject. I haven't thought much about it. Mommy and Papa both died years ago, during the influenza outbreak. Papa was weaker, you know - The war weakened his constitution."
"Did they keep no diaries, no journals, Percilla?" Thurgood thought. "After all, a person's thoughts are properly set down in writing..."
"Thoughts in writing... well DONE, Thurgood, once again!" Eason exclaimed. "We need thoughts in writing - information! What do we have? We know there is an knightly Order of the Dragon, and it's based in a region of Europe, the continent, obviously - and there are no more direct heirs to the title, but we have an illegitimate connexion - no, Percilla, I will not apologize for the proper term - with a legal claim, which is obviously what this document was meant to establish! This isn't so much a contract - it's a title, a deed, even a will! Percilla, you might just have claim to be The Baroness Sibiu'! Can't you just imagine!"