ACT 1 SCENE 1: In the darkness, a soft feminine voice whispers, "Act One. The Arrival of Spring." As crystalline gaslamps illuminate the stage, the curtains part to reveal an exquisite panorama of aerial vistas. The scene is set in the grassy knolls of Clarramore, neatly dusted with clouds that billow across the orchard's greenery. A host of trill workers cheerily continue their work, harvesting their fruit as a lone figure takes centre stage. ENTER Jaimes Linnery, a handsome yet disheveled trill rogue whose golden feathers have long lost their sheen, lugs a makeshift wagon behind him as he enters the scene. He has the look of someone lost, desperate, or perhaps both. TRILL WORKER: (noting the strange arrival) Greetings, sir! I regret to inform you that the latest shipment of Clarramore perfumes isn't yet ready to depart. JAIMES looks at the trill worker for a few moments with a look of mild disapproval. The trill worker awkwardly smiles back at him, completely at a loss for what to do. TRILL WORKER: Ah, perhaps you are then looking for a place to stay. Regrettably, the Clarramore Gardens only room the staff, and of course houseguests of the Lady Clarramore. There may be an inn if you continue on the highway--? JAIMES levels a harsh gaze at the trill worker, causing him to almost immediately stammer into silence. JAIMES: (at length) I am. TRILL WORKER: You're what, sir? JAIMES: (his voice low and gravelly, as if he hasn't spoken in years) Just what you said. I'm a guest of the Lady Clarramore. Tell her that Jaimes of House Linnery seeks audience with her. TRILL WORKER: (momentarily speechless) Oh. Oh! Er. That is, of course sir, right away sir. The scene goes dark save for a single spotlight that follows the trill servant as he scurries into the manor, the stage moving with him to reveal the indoor luxuries of the Clarramore Estate. Sumptuous furniture and prestigious artwork by the best of Hallifax's Master Artists adorns the room, though most notably beautiful is the woman at its centre, the Lady Iselle Clarramore. She sits upon a chaise lounge in pensive thought, idly flipping through a book of poetry. TRILL WORKER: (clearing his throat) Ma'am? ISELLE: (glancing up from the book in her lap) Oh, goodness, Hamison, I didn't see you there." She smiles, genuinely apologetic. "I do hope I haven't kept you too long? TRILL WORKER: (awkward as he bows) Not at all, ma'am." He hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. "There is... a Sir Jaimes here to see you, Lady Clarramore. Should I send him away? Iselle blinks in utter astonishment, closing the book as she rises to her feet. Her wings, once still, begin now to flutter gently with anticipation. ISELLE: (with a trace of worry) Jaimes Linnery? Does he look... well? TRILL WORKER: (shuffling his feet) He seems to possess his mental faculties, ma'am, if that is what you mean. Otherwise, I cannot say the gentleman presents himself very handsomely. ISELLE: (remembering decorum as she curtseys deeply) Thank you dearly for your assistance, Hamison. I shall see to the matter myself. You may resume your duties in the orchard. TRILL WORKER: (wiping his brow with relief) Oh, yes, very good ma'am, yes indeed. As the trill worker bows and takes his exit, Lady Iselle looks to the finery of the Clarramore Estate and tugs a glove nervously. ISELLE: (exhaling) I'm being silly. It's probably nothing. Money, or some such thing. Still... Shaking her head, Iselle affects a warm smile and exits as well, the stagelights dimming like stars with her departure. ACT 1 SCENE 2: As each light flickers back on, a new portion of the Clarramore Gardens is unveiled, this time showcasing a courtyard set with a dainty tea table and chairs. A marvelous view of the gardens can be seen from here, as well as a scarlet horizon on the brink of sunset. The distinct scent of wind wisp tea wafts from the stage as various trill servants tend to the needs of the two parties seated there, one figure distinctly the Lady Iselle Clarramore and the other a less comfortable, highly fidgety Jaimes Linnery. JAIMES: Do you always conduct business in this manner? Tea and... doilies and such. ISELLE: (with a faint smile) With very old friends, yes, I do." She delicately sips at her tea, watching as Jaimes peers at the tiny cakes assorted on the table. "How long has it been? Ten years? JAIMES: (solemnly) Fifteen long years. ISELLE: (leaning back in her seat) My. So it has. There's a long pause between them as Iselle stares across the gardens, Jaimes watching her at a thoughtful distance. JAIMES: You must be wondering what happened to me. ISELLE: (demurely) It is not polite to ask such questions of one's company, Jaimes. JAIMES: I am not polite company, Iselle." Correcting himself, he says, "Lady Clarramore. ISELLE: (with a wry smile) I daresay you never have been polite. You were a rotten child, always stealing my trill dolls and throwing them over the city railing to see if they flew. JAIMES: And you were always so quiet and so controlled. You were maddeningly obedient, you know. Didn't even jump in mud puddles like normal children. ISELLE: (laughing) We weren't normal children, Jaimes, we were Hallifaxian children. We had higher standards. JAIMES: You exceeded them." Following Iselle's gaze towards the orchard, he comments, "And I see you've inherited the gardens, now. ISELLE: Yes, Mama passed on a few years back. I've been managing it myself for awhile, I suppose, now that I think on it. JAIMES: At least one of us spent our inheritance well. ISELLE: (kindly) I was older when I received mine. JAIMES: I'm sure you've heard the rumours. Gambling drunkard, at least. I would deny them but I can't lie to you. ISELLE: (her voice soft and gentle) You wanted to see the world. You wanted to try new things." She places a gloved hand upon his, prompting him to look into her eyes. "To have so much money so young, it's a difficult thing. JAIMES: (unable to fully meet her gaze) It's gone now. All of it. ISELLE: (withdrawing her hand slowly) Is that why you're here? JAIMES: Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not here to beg. ISELLE: (a guarded steeliness in her tone) Then why are you here, Jaimes? JAIMES: (face contorting in shame) I... What I need is work. Hard work, but honest work. I've been doing whatever odd jobs need doing for ages now, but it's barely enough to stay afloat. ISELLE: (her face unreadable) I see. JAIMES: (Fervently) Allow me to work in the orchards. Pay me an honest wage. Do this, and I promise you that I will work harder, and longer, and faster than any man you've ever hired. ISELLE: (an eyebrow raised) And what if I can't offer you this? JAIMES: (bowing his head) Then I will apologise for wasting your valuable time, Lady Clarramore, and be on my way. I shan't bother you again. ISELLE: (curtly) Very well. You may depart, Jaimes. The immediacy of the reply sends Jaimes into a stunned silence. To illustrate her point, Lady Iselle waves a hand gesturing towards the gate. ISELLE: I have plenty of workers. I am sorry, but there is nothing here for you." Clarifying, she enunciates slowly, "If that is all, then you may go. Face heated with embarrassment, Jaimes rises to his feet with a mechanical stiffness. He bows for the sake of formality, returned with only a cool stare from Iselle. JAIMES: (quietly) I thank you for your decisiveness in the matter, Lady Clarramore. I am sorry to have burdened you. ISELLE: (her wings beating slow and steady as she regards him) Fair winds to you, Jaimes. The impact of this dismissal is immediate. Jaimes turns abruptly towards the gate, slowly but surely walking down the path towards the elevator. Seated atop her courtyard, Iselle continues to watch him until he is naught but a pinprick in the distance. As he arrives at the elevator, Jaimes glances at her once, but Iselle’s expression remains unchanged. He steels himself, swallows, then pulls the lever and watches as Iselle fades completely out of sight. Only when Jaimes has lowered himself completely from view does Iselle allow herself to smile. ISELLE: (musing) Well, he said that would be that, and he was right. He's left the gardens with barely a goodbye." She places a gloved hand upon her cheek, as if startled to discover herself smiling. "Perhaps he can keep a promise after all. Lady Iselle snaps a finger, immediately bringing an attentive young trill worker to her side. ISELLE: (her expression completely wiped of emotion) Please inform the gentleman departing the gardens that he has one year to prove himself to me. He is to work among the spice farmers and to be given a place in their housing. TRILL WORKER: (bowing as he departs) Certainly, ma'am. As the lights fade out, we see Jaimes halted in his path by the trill worker, and catch the faintest hint of a smile from Iselle as the lights, once more, hush into darkness. ACT 2 SCENE 1: In the darkness, a soft feminine voice whispers, "Act Two. The Winds of Summer." The verdant greenery of the Clarramore Cloud Gardens blossoms in the full throes of summer, shimmering with vibrant heat. We see a barely recognizable Jaimes Linnery, smartly attired in the livery of House Clarramore and lean with muscle in his new work. He wipes sweat from his brow, grinning as he looks over the lush, well-tended gardens. TRILL WORKER: (glancing skyward) Jaimes, I can't understand how happy working in the blasted sunlight makes you. It's dreadful this time of year, isn’t it? Only the breeze makes it bearable. JAIMES: Any day I can work is a day I can truly be happy, Farley. Whether it's rain or shine. TRILL WORKER: Well be any happier and the rest of us will be out of a job! Honestly, if the Lady Iselle set your work habits as the standard of Clarramore Gardens, half of us would get a proper scolding, we would. JAIMES: (a faint smile tugging at his lips) I made her a promise I would do my best work in serving her. I keep my promises. TRILL WORKER: You keep them too well, I suspect! You’ll get yourself sick, mark my words." Watching Jaimes's expression awhile longer, he finally pries, "What is your relationship with the Lady, may I ask? JAIMES: The same as yours, I should think. Employee and employer. TRILL WORKER: That's not what the others say. There's talk, you know, about how you and the Lady look at each other. Knowing glances. That doesn't come from a lifetime of employment, that comes from another sort of past. JAIMES: (dusting his hands off on his trousers) Farley. TRILL WORKER: (leaning forward eagerly) Yes? JAIMES: If you have time to spread rumours about your employer, then it's no wonder you think your job is in jeopardy." He tosses a shovel Farley's way, causing the worker to stumble forward and catch it. "Talk less and work more. TRILL WORKER: (tossing the shovel back) My shift ends just before sunset, friend. And the rumours," he adds, teasing, "also say that you’re doing this evening's shift alone. Hamison’s sick with the mugmumps. JAIMES: Convenient. TRILL WORKER: Alas, not all of us can be sustained on the love of the Lady Iselle alone. JAIMES: (wielding the shovel in his hands) If you want to go home, Farley, go home before I decide to knock you out cold and bury you in the gardens. TRILL WORKER: So sensitive. That's precisely how you get found out, Jaimes! Laughing, the trill worker waves goodnight and departs down the hill, the onset of twilight fast approaching behind him. ACT 2 SCENE 2: Streaks of red colour flare across the sky, dappling the foliage with the transient colours of eventide as Jaimes continues in his work. In the shadows, the arrival of a second figure is neither discernable, nor familiar until she clears her throat to speak. ISELLE: (stepping out of the undergrowth) Good evening, Jaimes. I do hope that I haven't kept you waiting too long. JAIMES: (startled) My lady?" He turns and appraises her, dumbstruck. "You're... dressed in trousers ISELLE: (amused) Do trousers not suit me, Jaimes? JAIMES: (with a low bow) My lady, all you wear suits you. But it is surprising to see you dressed like those who serve beneath you. ISELLE: All in my gardens serve in their own way. Even I." She takes the shovel from Jaimes’s hands and begins to dig it into the soil with a practised ease. "Hamison cannot serve today, so I serve in his place. All labour must be completed, even if one of my labourers cannot do his part. JAIMES: (following her lead in the gardenwork) You speak of the gardens as if they were the Collective. ISELLE: (arching a brow) Are they not so? A city merely bears different fruit than a garden. JAIMES: Perhaps, but yours offers a lovelier view. ISELLE: (a flicker of amusement in her eyes) We each have our part to play. Though some be lowlier than others, all are of import." Gesturing to her attire, she comments, "I inherited my role, but that does not mean I should be ignorant of the others that allow these gardens to thrive. JAIMES: An admirable stance, my lady. And yet many of us who serve under you find ourselves ignorant of what your duties embody. ISELLE: (drily) Oh? You wish to discuss the hiring, the buying, the selling, the social politicking in the city? Or perhaps you wish to discuss the maintaining of the grounds, the adjustment of wages, the accommodation of employees, the cost of monthly upkeep? JAIMES: (hesitantly clearing his throat) Such talks must seem dull to the Lord Clarramore. ISELLE: (shrugging lightly) Such talks would be, were there a Lord Clarramore to share them with. JAIMES: No? There is talk in the gardens that you are being courted. ISELLE: (airily) There is always talk in the gardens, and rarely any of substance. I shall have a Lord Clarramore when I wish for one, and should I never wish for one, then I shall simply have to talk to myself about such dull affairs as estate management. JAIMES: At least you will always be guaranteed of good company. ISELLE: (with a thin smile) Ah, how you flatter me. But such gossip and sycophancy is beneath you, Jaimes. I did not hire you for such attributes. JAIMES: I apologise, my lady. Your presence has unexpectedly brightened my spirits, and they were high to begin with. ISELLE: (teasing) Well, if I make you lax in your duties, then perhaps it is best if I refrain from assisting you. Iselle playfully moves to walk away, but Jaimes, in a gesture that comes as a shock to both parties, grabs her by the arm to hold her close. For a moment, they freeze, the two a pair of winged statues outlined in moonlight. JAIMES: (awkwardly) I... Please. We haven't spoken alone in so long. I forgot myself, and for that, I do beg your forgiveness. ISELLE: (her wings stilling) You needn't, though. It is enough that you have kept this promise to me. JAIMES: To atone for the other, you mean. ISELLLE: (her eyes cast low) Yes. Atonement. Perhaps that is the term. JAIMES: And have I atoned, my lady? ISELLE: (with a wistful sigh) You have sown the seeds of spring, seen them ripen into summer, and together we shall harvest them in the autumn. In the winter, perhaps we may celebrate a successful harvest properly. For now, it is too soon to say. JAIMES: You would not have taken me into your service, if you hadn't forgiven me at least in part. ISELLE: You made a promise, once, that you would find me in the summer, after you saw the world. Many summers have passed since that day, Jaimes." She fidgets with her farmer's gloves, looking away. "I only wished to see if promises meant something to you, now. JAIMES: (the words hitching in his throat) Iselle. Am I to be forever yoked to the folly of my past? I was young, foolish. Will I never know the end of punishment for these failings? I lost the regard of my peers, the honour of my family name..." He swallows. "And you. How could I face you, the very embodiment of duty? ISELLE: (murmuring) Yet you face me now, changed. A man who has changed must have gained something, too. JAIMES: (humbly bowing his head) Forgive me for clinging too tightly to what little I have. Iselle toys with the worker's gloves on her hands, dirtied from use. At length, she peels them off one by one, revealing calloused palms. Upon her left hand, a single diamond band glitters and gleams. ISELLE: (softly) You are not the only one, who clung too tightly to what little they had. JAIMES: (disbelieving) You... After all this time, you still kept...? ISELLE: I waited for you, Jaimes. Always, I waited. A gentle breeze laces through the gardens, wafting the floral scent of skyblooms and wind wisps through the theater as Jaimes takes one, two steps forward, before embracing the Lady Iselle in his arms. Lady Iselle’s wings wrap around him in answer, leaning forward to kiss him with a slow tenderness only born of absence. Together, their wings enfold about them both, shielding them against the prying moonlight. In the darkness of the dimming theater, a soft feminine voice whispers, "Act Three. The Autumnal Fall." ACT 3 SCENE 1: The orchards of the Clarramore Cloud Gardens blaze with a fiery array of gold, red, and bronze colours, their leaves heralding the first chill winds of autumn. They whisper through the vicinity, causing the trill workers to shiver as they continue their duties. Iselle stands poised in the doorway of the manor, waiting as a single trill worker bounds up to her side and sketches a hurried bow. TRILL WORKER: (panting) My lady, the shipments will be ready tomorrow for Hallifax. This harvest is perhaps the finest we could have hoped for. ISELLE: (with a warm smile) Gracious, what a relief. And to think I would have been happy with simply earning enough to keep the estate managed! TRILL WORKER: The lords and ladies of Hallifax shall have the finest perfumes this side of the Basin of Life, that's for certain. ISELLE: Indeed so." Glancing over the worker's shoulder, she asks hesitantly, "Is, ah, Jaimes Linnery presently occupied? TRILL WORKER: (raising an eyebrow) Jaimes? He's actually out at the moment preparing the shipments. However..." He clears his throat. "I did not just come to inform you of the success of the harvest, my lady, but of the arrival of the General Windsoar. ISELLE: (tugging at her gloves) Windsoar? I confess I do not recall his house. TRILL WORKER: Nouveau riche, as I understand it. ISELLE: Ah! I see. And what is their claim to fortune? TRILL WORKER: It is not the house so much as the General Windsoar who can boast wealth, and this was obtained by a series of successful raids against the Gaudiguchian heathens. Even infidels can obtain wealth, it would seem, and General Windsoar has amassed a great deal of it through his military endeavors. ISELLE: (perplexed) Then why does he seek my company? TRILL WORKER: (bowing once more) He is in the parlour, my lady, should you wish to discover that for yourself. ACT 3 SCENE 2: The scene shimmers out into darkness, before returning to highlight the parlour of the Clarramore manor. Amidst the sheer opulence, General Walten Windsoar stands stoically in the doorway with wings outstretched, his figure the very picture of refined nobility. At Lady Iselle's entrance, the general straightens at attention and salutes. WINDSOAR: Lady Clarramore. It is a singular pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last. ISELLE: (gesturing politely) Do sit, General Windsoar, for you may flatter me equally well whilst sitting down." As they both do so, she continues pleasantly, "It is an honour as well to meet one who so boldy defends Hallifax's borders, and who strikes such fear into its enemies. WINDSOAR: (wryly) I thank you, my lady. Though the call of battle is of equal importance to the Collective as the call to the pen or to the merchants' guilds, I fear not all share your enthusiasm for those who answer its beckons. ISELLE: I confess my enthusiasm also extends to curiosity as to the nature of your visit. It is rare to meet a warrior in a perfumery, one must admit. WINDSOAR: I should think that with your reputation, my lady, you should have a great deal many warriors at your beck and call. ISELLE: Oh? This is news to me. And here I thought my only allies were the finely perfumed ladies of the Hallifaxian aristocracy. WINDSOAR: (with a gruff laugh) It is those very ladies who highlight your charms through paling in comparison. ISELLE: (indicating the chairs) You see, General? I was quite right, you can still flatter me most impressively whilst sitting down. WINDSOAR: Then oblige me. For it is rare, Lady Clarramore, to meet a woman of your rank and your standing who shares your level of dedication to duty and to sacrifice. ISELLE: And on whose authority do I have such qualities? WINDSOAR: Your men and women speak highly of you. They say you are a fair and just mistress, and that you work among them and see to their needs as if they were your own kin. If I knew nothing else, that would be enough to bring me here. Yet your beauty and your wit do you credit as well. ISELLE: (leaning back in her chair) To what end, good general? WINDSOAR: Lady Clarramore. I am not a man of passions or romance. I am a man of strategy, and methodical calculations. I know that you are a woman who values her independence, and in this we two are the same. With this in mind, what I propose is a union of like-minded persons, an alliance of two great forces to bring prosperity to the Collective and to your estate. General Windsoar falls to the ground on bended knee, and the Lady Iselle's expression flickers with uncertainty for just a moment. ISELLE: (the statement quiet with understanding) This is a marriage proposal. WINDSOAR: Yes. For there is war on the horizon, my lady, and I would wish to see you protected and taken care of in those days. The silence between the two is deafening as the Lady Iselle considers the prospect with a practised, stoic composure. ISELLE: (each word carefully considered) Good general, you heap upon me more praise than I could hope to return, for though you speak well and nobly, I am afraid I am not accustomed to proposals from gentlemen I have only just encountered. Yet... Iselle takes a single, steadying breath as the General awaits her reply. ISELLE: (continuing evenly) Yet your words have moved me, and I feel it wrong to dismiss them with such immediacy. Please allow me the liberty of a few days to contemplate what you have just spoken. WINDSOAR: (rising to his feet) I would expect no less than caution from you. I shall wait patiently, Lady Clarramore, and shall bear no offense if this offer does not satisfy you. ISELLE: You are too generous, General Windsoar. WINDSOAR: I am a man of honour, Lady Clarramore. Should you accept this proposal, I swear that I shall be as loyal and steadfast a husband as you could ever desire. I would wear your house's name with pride, and fight beneath your banner. I would work alongside your men, and accept your judgment in the estate's affairs without complaint. I offer you all that I am, and in return wish to take nothing from you but your hand, and your name. ISELLE: You have been forthright and honest with me, good general, and I shall do you the honour of responding in kind by the end of the autumnal season. For now, you have given me much to consider. WINDSOAR: (kissing her hand gently) I shall await then anxiously for your reply. ACT 3 SCENE 3: Once the general departs, the Lady Clarramore hitches up her skirts and dashes out from the manor into the gardens, racing and racing until finally she reaches a grassy knoll where Jaimes Linnery can be seen preparing the wagons. He smiles at her radiantly, his once-gruff exterior now replaced with a charming ease of manner. JAIMES: Iselle! What brings my lady to the humble trade wagons? Without a word, Iselle buries herself in Jaimes's arms, cradling her head upon his shoulder. Jaimes stiffens slightly in reply, startled, before easing into the embrace. JAIMES: (running his hand through her headfeathers) What is wrong, love? ISELLE: A gentleman has offered me an exceptionally proper and charming proposal of marriage, and though it makes every bit of sense to accept it, I cannot. JAIMES: (frowning) You say it as if you are disappointed? ISELLE: No, that is not the right word. It is as if... All my life, I have been flying in the direction that the wind has taken me. There is no resistance, and the movements are naturally graceful to perform. Scripted, really. And then you return, and it seems as if I am suddenly blasted against that same current, finding myself stumbling in the other direction. JAIMES: (wryly) What a pair we make. I steer you off-course into turbulent uncertainty, and yet I find you steer me where I'm meant to fly. ISELLE: Jaimes. JAIMES: Yes, Iselle? ISELLE: Would you love me, if I were not a wealthy woman? JAIMES: (bewildered) I loved you when I was a young and wealthy man, and I have loved you as a poor man too. ISELLE: But would you love me, Jaimes, were I nothing but a poor beggar maid? JAIMES: (steadfastly) Of course I would love you. ISELLE: (with a quiet laugh) You are blind to it, aren't you? Blind to how it must feel to have you love me, now. It is exhilarating, and yet terrifying all at once. Oh, I wish to the gods you hadn't lost your wealth! I wish I did not have to wonder if it is my sovereigns that brought you to me, or your heart. JAIMES: (fervently) Of all my possessions I have lost, the first to leave me was my heart, which was yours the moment I first looked upon you. This I swear is true. ISELLE: (shaking her head) I want to believe you, but... JAIMES: I swore to serve you, my lady, better than any other man in your service. Have I broken that vow? ISELLE: (the faintest trace of a smile on her lips) No, you have not. JAIMES: Then in the winter, we shall reap the rewards of the harvest, and together we can serve one another the way we always intended to. ISELLE: Fifteen years later. JAIMES: I would suffer all those lonely years again, if it meant I would be here now with you. Jaimes takes Iselle’s hands in his own, pressing a gentle kiss upon her brow. She glances up at him wonderingly, opening her mouth to reply before a loud crash startles her into screaming. The crackling of flames hisses through the air, followed by the pungent stench of smoke coiling in the distance. One flame, higher than all the others, can be seen snaking across the fields of the Clarramore Cloud Gardens like a scarlet ribbon. A trill worker yells, "My Lady! Lady Iselle! The manor is burning!" ISELLE: Oh gods no...! As the two fly into the fiery darkness, the curtains once more lower across the stage, leaving only the scent of ashes and smoke in its wake. In the darkness, a soft feminine voice whispers, "Act Four. The Winter Frost." ACT 4 SCENE 1: The scene revealed resembles the Clarramore Cloud Gardens in little more than name, the charred remains of the house and the orchards appearing more like a war-torn battleground than an estate. Lady Iselle, her clothes ragged and torn from trudging the grounds, sits by a splintered lemon tree and covers her face in her hands. Solemnly, Jaimes Linnery moves to join her. He kneels by her side, placing an arm around her shoulder. ISELLE: (her voice shaking) They say this was a planned ambush. Pyromancers. JAIMES: No one could have prepared for this. ISELLE: They thought the general would be here. Someone had tipped them off, someone had told them..." Her voice trails off, growing hoarse. "This is only going to worsen, isn't it? War is on the horizon, he said. JAIMES: You are a merchant, and I am a servant. War is not our duty. ISELLE: But my duty is to my men, to my women, to every child raised on this estate. I... We have no shipment to offer. A whole year, wasted. JAIMES: We can rebuild. ISELLE: Rebuild? Rebuild with what, Jaimes? I will have to sell my family's lands. In one night, I have failed my duties as a daughter, squandered my inheritance, damaged the honour of my family's name, and failed to protect the families in my service. JAIMES: You did not set fire to your fields and your house. You are blameless. ISELLE: Perhaps blameless, but nonetheless responsible for the lives of those who serve me. I cannot let them suffer. JAIMES: Iselle, I love you. Whatever you need, I will seek for you. Whatever you require of me, I will do. ISELLE: (her voice breaking) Please. Don't say that. JAIMES: (softening) Iselle. Iselle, I know what you wish to ask of me. ISELLE: I can't ask this. It's too cruel. JAIMES: (pulling a glove from her left hand) I swore to serve you as best as I know how. Please, my lady. Let me serve you. Jaimes takes Iselle's left hand and kisses it gently before withdrawing the diamond ring from her finger. Quiet sobs rack her body as Jaimes turns over her palm, depositing the token there and closing her hand shut around it. JAIMES: (the raggedness of his voice betraying him) There, my lady. Consider this a promise you do not have to atone for breaking. ISELLE: (covering her face in her hands) Jaimes... JAIMES: My lady, your life is a life of service to your home, just as mine is a life in service to you. I cannot in good conscience watch you suffer, knowing that I can spare you from it. ISELLE: (her voice a whisper) Would you run away with me, Jaimes? If I asked. JAIMES: (softly) I would wish to. But you would never ask that of me, my lady. You were never one to run away from those who needed you most. ISELLE: (wiping at her eyes) Jaimes, why do you call me that now? I'm not your lady. It's just me, Iselle. JAIMES: (bowing his head) No, my lady. I must call you what you are to me. The future bride of General Windsoar. The mistress of my estate. The one I must serve above all others. ISELLE: (crestfallen) Oh, Jaimes. You owe me nothing. JAIMES: I made you a promise, Lady Clarramore, to serve you better than all men. This promise I swore to keep, and I shall. House Linnery may stand for nothing but my shame, but I shall see to it that our new legacy is your legacy. These gardens will thrive once more, my lady, and they shall thrive beneath the banner of House Clarramore as they have never thrived before. ISELLE: But how will you bear it? JAIMES: (his voice a low murmur) How could I bear living without you, my lady? ISELLE: (failing miserably at a smile) You survived for fifteen years well enough, did you not? JAIMES: It is not enough to survive, my lady. I wish to live. And for fifteen years, I felt as though I did not live at all." He smiles sadly. "I lost my chance to be yours fifteen years ago. I see that now. If this is what I must accept, then it is enough to be by your side. ISELLE: Your family shall always have a place in our halls. I swear it, Jaimes. You shall always have a home at the Clarramore estate if you wish for it. You, and your children, and your children's children. I promise they shall all be cared for. JAIMES: (with a rueful smile) What children, my lady? ISELLE: (her fingers interlacing with his) Life is like the wind, is it not? Always changing with the seasons. One never knows where it might take you. JAIMES: Alas, I have always flown against the wind, Lady Clarramore. Their eyes meet, and Jaimes dips his head low to kiss Iselle softly and sweetly, one final time. Tears glisten upon Iselle's cheeks as he draws away, offering a wistful smile as he bows. JAIMES: Fair winds to you, my lady. It is a pleasure to serve. The stage lights dim, one after the other, as Jaimes begins his descent down the grassy hills of Clarramore. Lady Iselle exhales slowly, tears sparkling in her eyes as she watches his silhouette grow smaller and smaller in the distance. The scenery behind her blossoms into a youthful, vibrant springtime, the ashen trees bursting with lemon blossoms and the fields sighing with lavender skyblooms. Finally, Iselle rises to her feet, smoothing out her skirts as she too departs the stage with tears dry upon her cheeks. In the darkness, a soft, feminine voice echoes, "So spring becomes summer, summer turns to fall, fall withers into winter, and eventually blossoms to spring again." Fin.