Quoted By:
There is a secret ritual that takes place by the hearth of the <span class="mu-i">Trois Narcisses</span>.
It is a mysterious place where men are not permitted to tread. Kept secret by traditions passed down from mother to daughter, skipping over their husbands and sons, none of that wonderful and burly gender know of its existence. You almost feels like an intruder upon that space, when you enter. You strode the line between men and women as her father's beloved tomboyish daughter, and while you found great success in boyish things, you are still a novice as a girl. Entering this hearth always feels like an intrusion, for you know all the women there keep what happens behind those doors a secret from their husbands, fathers, and brothers.
Not out of malice.
This is not a place of crotchety spinsters, filled with their baleful misandry and resentment of never loving nor being loved in turn. Rather, it is just as the secret ventures into the woods men make to get away from their wives and sisters, a place for women to be among the girls. A place where you forgo your usual mannish clothing and the fashions of the landsknechte to wear a white woolen sweater against the creeping chill of approaching fall, and a long, swishy purple skirt that reaches all the way down to your ankles.
All of this secrecy and effort to preserve the quiet, hidden traditions of the women of Lake Lilien and its surrounding pasture vales. A coven to which your mother and sisters belong, a coven to which you have but a single foot in the door. A circle of women whose influence you must recognize and respect as part of running your village, just as you must recognize the Guilds and the Yeoman's Lodge.
The Liliensdorf Knitting Circle.
"It's wonderful that you could join us, Louise!" Your mother Clementine reaches up to pat you on the head and ruffle your hair when you arrived at this hidden coven. For a woman of her age, she still has all the vigor of her youth, having joined your father in his daily exercises every day since before they were married. She towers over every other woman in the room save you and your sisters, yet with her cheer she is by far the most approachable. "Sit down, sit down, I think I know where the scarf you were working on was..."
You sit down next to your sisters, both of whom exceed you in knitting by far. They both seem quite happy to see you, and you exchange some pleasantries, quickly learning that both of them are knitting something that your hands could never manage. Etna, the younger of the two at an energetic thirteen, is knitting the same sort of sweat you're currently wearing - one of your mother's patterns.
Your sister Eloise, seventeen and newlywed, is knitting something a fair bit more complicated and <span class="mu-i">fine</span> than a sweater. Something that makes your eyes boggle at the implication. She notices your look and says, "Do <span class="mu-i">not</span> tell Father. I was nearing two months at the wedding."
