Aloura, a journey of the Dimensions Book 1

The law of the land

As I walked down the wide, stone hallways, the atmosphere enveloped me like a heavy cloak, adorned with rich tapestries and intricate paintings that whispered tales of an age long past. The medieval castle vibes wrapped around me, a peculiar blend of awe and unease fluttering in my chest. I was on a quest to locate the study, certain it wouldn’t prove to be a challenging endeavor.

As I tried the doors one by one, I felt the cool surfaces beneath my fingers—a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through me. Two immense linen closets greeted my curiosity, along with a sizable storage room, two additional bedrooms, and a door that yielded only to my persistent tugging, locking away whatever secrets lay behind it. The corridor remained eerily silent, the absence of life amplifying the echoes of my footsteps as I pressed onward.

At the corner, I caught sight of a magnificent double door, adorned with exquisite carvings that compelled my fingers to push one open. I was met with an expansive room, flooded with light streaming through two large windows, illuminating walls lined with towering bookshelves housing volumes of knowledge.

My heart raced as I stepped inside, allowing the heaviness of relief to wash over me. This had to be the study. I walked deeper into the room, letting my fingers dance along the spines of the books, a few embossed with ancient titles that caught my eye—A History of King Desdmond, The Capture of Amoridia. Each title revealed snippets of a world I had yet to understand.

Eventually, my fingers landed on a book titled Ashdown Lineages of the Kingship. Intrigued, I pulled it from its perch and flipped it open. Inside, handwritten dates and names sprawled across the pages, detailing births, crowning ceremonies, and deaths. As I lifted the veil of history, the entries unfolded before me—crowning ceremonies, marriages, deaths, the tapestry of a royal life woven meticulously over time.

My breath caught as I reached the end of the book and discovered my father’s name. He had inherited his title at the tender age of twenty-two and married my mother at twenty-four, only to have her illness, the Waisting, claim her life six years later. I felt a pang in my chest as I read about my own birth, a precious marker of joy in an unforgiving timeline. I noted how Drissel was mentioned as my father’s consort and second wife, her two sons born into a world that hardly kept its promises.

With a heavy heart, I closed the book and carefully returned it to its rightful place. My exploration continued, drawn to the numerous volumes written in unfamiliar languages and the myriad of books regarding laws that spoke of power and lineage. My gaze eventually fell upon a large tome sprawled open on the ornate desk in front of a high-back chair.

Marrage Laws of Royalty, the title declared—a topic that sent chills down my spine. As I skimmed through the text, I felt a mounting sense of disbelief: Women, it suggested, would become 'property' of their husbands through marriage. Was this truly the reality in which I found myself? Women were not mere objects to be owned; we were flesh and blood, thoughts and dreams.

I continued reading, grappling with the archaic notions penned within. In the absence of a male heir, the crown would pass to the eldest daughter’s firstborn son at the age of sixteen, while her consort could act on behalf of the child until that fateful day. How wearying it felt to uncover laws that dictated governance and power, relegating a daughter’s potential to secondary status until a male heir graced the world.

Whoever had crafted these laws had indeed contemplated every potential outcome; I flipped the page, unearthing more archaic stipulations regarding the lineage and distribution of power. If no male heir were born, the crown of Ashdown would find itself entangled with some distant male relative, no matter how obscure, while a daughter remained shackled by her gender.

This world—be it a haunting dream, an afterlife, or a coma—was revealing its layers, and they were anything but favorable. The notion of a princess marrying a ruling king, surrendering her lands and identity, crushed any romanticized illusion I had held. All that remained were stark realities of an age that felt trapped in time, where I could not help but feel the weight of history pressing down upon my soul.

"Miss," Lacy the timid maid stepped in breaking my thoughts, "Your breakfast?"

"Oh," I smiled at the girl, "yes, wonderful."

"Did you want it here or in your dining chamber?" Lacy asked.

"I," I began unsure, what would Aloura want? i pondered," Actually I think I'd like some fresh air while I eat." I answered going with my own preference as I had no idea what would be the right choice.

"The balcony then Miss," Lacy said thought it sounded more like a question.

"Yes, the balcony," I agreed.

Lacy entered the room.tray in hand and walked over to a large wooden door by the windows, opening it i followed her onto the wide stone balcony where she set a tray on a table with four chairs around it.

"Anything else, Miss?"

"No, thank you, this looks perfect," I smiled again and pulled out a chair.

The spread of meats, fruit cheese and two soft rolls made my stomach rumble.

Lacy seeing me sitting served the plate and poured me a hot tea, adding a splash of cream and honey before taking the serving tray and leaving me to my meal.