Sunlight filtered through the leaves of aspen and birch trees, filling the tiny, private courtyard with the dappled, golden-green light of early afternoon. Although the sounds of men marching and guardsmen calling out the changing of their watch could be heard, their voices seemed distant and dreamlike to the young woman and her middle-aged companion as they knelt in the seclusion of the peaceful clearing. The young woman, a dazzling beauty just approaching the full bloom of womanhood, knelt with her knees slightly parted, the black and red silk livery she wore tightening and parting at the side slightly, to reveal a glimpse of her thigh. Her white-blonde head was bowed, her blue eyes fixed in concentration as she arranged a tiny set of gleaming crystal cups on the tray before her. Carefully, slowly she lifted a pot of steaming liquid from the tripod it had been warming on and began, painstakingly to pour the hot tea into the cups, stopping to bow and bless them one by one as she poured.

"Slowly, no SLOWLY, I said." the reprimand came from the older woman sitting cross legged, observing the young woman’s efforts. With a fluid motion, the older woman was standing and coming up behind the younger one. "You must have more control, but it cannot look this forced." The older woman proceeded to adjust the arm position of her student and show her a more natural, flowing motion with which to pour the tea. "Arddrune," the instructor began, "how can you learn these arts if there is such concentration, such control in your movements. The way you do things is much too constricted; you always look like you are afraid of making a mistake. Try to relax your spirit, devote it to service, and then the motions of the body will come naturally.""I am devoted, Aunt." The younger woman answered. "I’m just so afraid that if I make any mistakes, they will reflect badly on myself and the rest of our line."

The older woman smiled, her face warming with the memories of her own youth in the King’s service. Although she was older than Arddrune, it was obvious that T'sharra had been incredibly beautiful. Her finely honed features and delicately pointed ears bespoke a pure, trueblood lineage. Her white-golden hair, characteristic of her race, did not betray her age, for it shone like the dawn and showed no hints of grey. For almost countless generations, T'sharra’s family line, the Caer’Thalarin house, had served the leaders and monarchs of their race. Expert courtiers and soldiers alike came form their line, which, in itself had never been broken or sullied with the blood of an outlander. It was said that only the gods could trace their line back to its beginning; so pure and ancient did their blood run. Among Elvenkind, and the Grey Elves in particular, such "truebloods", as some genealogists called them, were not too uncommon. Some houses ran purer than others. A "pure" line is one which has always been purely Elven stock, with no other races breeding into it and sullying the purity and magic of their blood. Some lines, however, were not merely pure Elven, but pure Grey Elf, with no other "lesser" line allowed to marry into it. These families jealously guarded their purity and often married distant relatives to one another to produce children whose lineage could be traced back into the depths of antiquity.Caer’Thalarin was one such house, and, like many of these lines, it served the royal family of Arethane. Each generation, one member of this house would enter the High Court to serve the palace as a sajorte for a period of years. After this term was up, they could leave to pursue their own lives, or stay and continue to serve. T'sharra was such a one. Although her years of service were long over, she had decided to stay on lifelong as a sajorte (a, willing servant), to the king. Now, her niece Arddrune had been sent by her sister Aileen, and Aileen’s husband, Leoric, to serve for the house in her turn. Aileen, who was T'sharra’s sister, was also a distant cousin of Leoric, who, as head of the household, was entitled to the noble title of Lord. In addition to being head of the Caer’Thalarin house, he also held the position of Exchequer of the Royal Treasury. This, in fact, was his real passion. Maintaining the balance of the royal treasury was no small task, and some of his closer friends joked that economic theory must be Leoric’s religion.

In truth, his duties at the royal treasury were among the least of Leoric’s responsibilities; being at the head of an ancient and noble house was both his greatest honor and most burdensome charge. Lord Leoric was responsible for maintaining the house’s contacts within the ranks of the nobility as well as ensuring the purity of its honor and, above all, lineage.

As a daughter of the Caer’Thalarin house, whose traditions of honor and service had given it a high reputation, it was up to Arddrune to ensure, through her continued devotion and service to the kingdom, that the family’s honor remained untarnished. She did this by serving as a sajorte with a pure heart; dedicated to her tasks, and with the self-discipline that any trained warrior might envy.

Looking up at her aunt, Arddrune was reminded of a day not long ago, when she had first received her Shalafi’s Sadisla and been allowed to enter his service. Nervous and confused, Arddrune had been filled with mixed emotions on that day. On the one hand, she had always known that the time would come when she would serve in the palace as a sajorte- she had even looked forward eagerly to this day. As a young girl, Arddrune had been told by her mother what would be expected of her, and had even been allowed to stay with her aunt for days at a time in order to see how the inner workings of these ancient customs functioned on a practical, day-to-day basis. And yet, standing barefoot on the cool marble floors of the palace, wearing the traditional, one-piece silken robe of the palace sajorte, Arddrune had felt more than a little fear at the prospect of leaving her family and serving that handsome, yet reserved king whom she had only seen at a distance until today. Sensing the young woman’s fear, T'sharra had taking Arddrune apart from the noisy crowds of family gathered to celebrate her Sadis`Tala and outside into a private courtyard much like this one. Sitting the young woman down on a bench to rest, T'sharra had spoken softly to Arddrune, telling her something that the young woman would always find strength in.

"Do not be afraid, dear girl, for it takes just as much strength to yield and serve as it does to command." T'sharra had smiled slightly to herself as she said this; as if this was a great truth she could not wait to pass on.

"I don’t understand, Aunt," Arddrune said, looking perplexed "how can you say that a sajorte is as strong as, or as important as, someone who commands them? I mean, all we do is serve our Shalafi, and follow orders. We’re just here as custom, not like the people who really serve the kingdom."

T'sharra’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in what her niece had just said. How could she explain to the girl what it took her years of service to learn for herself? "My child," she began, "the world is composed of many kinds of balance: good and evil, light and dark, as well as leaders and followers. While it takes much strength to lead, without the strength and devotion of those supporting them, a leader is nothing. Likewise is the sharpness of an arrow meaningless without the blunt force and stability of a bow to give it flight." T'sharra gestured with her hands as she spoke, "The same is true of the balance between the sajorte and those they serve. While good leadership takes strength and character, it takes very similar qualities of self discipline and devotion to put the needs of those you serve before your own personal desires. By being a sajorte, you not only gain honour for serving, you also honour your Shalafi with your loyalty and willingness to devote yourself to them. It takes a very special kind of person to be a true sajorte. A sajorte is like a Willow tree in the wind; unlike some trees, a sajorte’s strength allows them to bend to other’s wills without breaking. Although some trees, or people for that matter, appear strong, they often break if they are forced to submit themselves to another’s will. Rather than resisting, a sajorte’s true strength and power lies in the ability to yield and still remain strong." T'sharra sighed to herself, knowing that Arddrune would learn all these things in time, and that soon her service would seem perfectly natural to her.

Lost in thought about the past, Arddrune barely noticed that T'sharra was resetting the tray with the crystal cups to practice the ceremony again. T'sharra beckoned the girl over to where she now knelt, breaking Arddrune’s reverie and bringing her back to the present moment."Shall we try again?" T'sharra asked her niece warmly.Smiling her willingness to resume her lessons, Arddrune knelt in the soft grass and thought of the strength to serve which her aunt had spoken of, and found the poise and steadiness she needed in order to conduct the flowing movements of the ceremony more confidently, and to her aunt's joyful surprise, almost flawlessly.