Lucy A. McLaren

It’s time for the next counselling session with a character. I’m having a lot of fun with this series–if anyone else has a character they’d like to have therapy, do get in touch via social media!

Today, I have a session with Lady Kyra of Gaston to share with you. This is from Mouse Hero by Matthew Francis, a current work in progress. The synopsis follows: A travelogue of a journey from the remote Western Highlands to the king’s palace.

Kyra plans to overwinter with her aunt, but when an unexpected cavalry of questionable loyalty arrives to escort her and the king’s revenue, plans are changed overnight, sending her on a parallel path to ensure safe arrival of the king’s property.

I don’t know about you, but I’m intrigued! Now, on to Kyra’s counselling session…

Assessment Form

Name: Kyra of Gaston

Age: 17

Reason for seeking counselling: Feeling overwhelmed

Have you tried counselling before?: No, I have not, nor have I met a tutor skilled in this art.

How do you feel about being here?: I do know if this will help, but Father has said “when nothing appears to work, try something new.” I am in completely unfamiliar territory, and unprepared, which, Mum would not have allowed if the situation were not desperate. Perhaps I am also desperate. I do not care to pursue this study if confidentiality cannot be ensured. For this reason, I also forbid you to speak to my youngest sister until I return.

Do you have any goals for counselling?: I would like to be better prepared, but there is nothing we can do about that now. I would like for failure to not have such severe consequences, but it might. Should I fail—gods preserve us from starvation—I do not know that anyone could help. In summary, I need to raise an army. If this art can help me achieve that, it is my goal. If not, perhaps this art can help me to hide should I fail.

Is there anything else you’d like me to know before your session?: Father has always been Father. Kind, thoughtful, and calm. Mum, has always been a string of adjectives I cannot put to parchment, for even if burned and the ashes scattered, she would still know an affront had been committed. Last night, however, she dropped her rigid composure. She spoke to me as a peer and not as a child. I still do not know what to make of that. When they sent me away without a proper farewell, I do understand why. Still, it hurts.

Counselling Session

Lucy: Hi Kyra, it’s lovely to meet you. My name’s Lucy and I’ll be your counsellor for this session. I’ll just briefly explain how I work, then handover to you to talk about whatever you like. I know from your assessment form you haven’t had counselling before, so to let you know a bit about it—basically, I’m here to listen. You can talk about as much as you like. I won’t push you to talk about anything you’re not comfortable with, and everything you tell me will remain confidential between us.

From your assessment form, it seems as though you’ve got a lot going on at the moment. You say you want to be better prepared, and you need to raise an army. In addition to this, you’ve been sent away by your parents which has been hard and painful for you. I wonder which of these areas you would like to speak about most.

Kyra: Your time is greatly appreciated, and your candor as well. This admission (and exhibition) of weakness must stay between you and me. Pleasantries aside, my parents love me, of that I have no doubt. While I wish I had been better prepared, I do not see how I could be more prepared than I am. Had Father any sons, they would have received more martial training, and they would have been sent on this errand instead. Father and Mum really were out of options, and so they sent me to raise an army.

I was not sent with any instructions; I had to conclude my purpose on my own. I did not receive parting hugs from anyone but my younger sisters and the cook. I should be engaged; if I am to be traipsing across the realm it should be to meet my husband. All of this sounds like a tirade against my parents, but it bears repeating: I have no doubt that I am loved. My memories cannot convict my parents otherwise.

What would I like to talk about, then? At some point, I will need to raise an army. And in desperation, do you know who I am supposed to recruit? Plainsmen. I am supposed to find my older sister, Halla, who married into a nomadic clan. How am I supposed to find a nomadic clan? The old stable master that accompanies me is a Plainsman, but he is not certain where they will be. Maddening. Frustrating. I suppose that is why I have asked you to meet with me.

Of all the things that frustrate me, I suppose I did not mention it before, but I feel helpless. I have been thrust into a situation in which I am powerless, and then carried along at the whims of others. I choose to move forward because… failure would be unbearable. It would be a mark against my name, of course, but that is hardly a consequence when compared against the potential for many forfeited lives.

Perhaps I presume, but it seems to me as if you intend to help me detangle this mess by dealing with the heaviest thread first, and then the next if necessary. Which thread is the most burdensome? I am having a difficult time teasing them apart. Would you like to discuss the task at hand, or shall we pick apart my oldest sister, Quince, whose chances of success would be far better than my own? Perhaps some wisdom could be gleaned there.

L: It’s clear there’s a lot on your mind, Kyra. It sounds as though a lot of pressure has been put on your shoulders, and you find yourself walking a path you didn’t expect. You are not a man, and so you did not receive the martial training that might have made your current job more straight forward. You bear a responsibility that brings with it a sense of frustration, but I also sense that you’re keen to prove yourself. To yourself, but also to your parents.

You ask me what I would like to discuss, but that’s really not for me to say. If I asked you what, of everything you’ve said, feels most burdensome for you—what is the first response that comes to mind?

K: Can I do it? Will I be able to accomplish the task set before me? Certainly I have failed to mention a thousand pertinent factors. The caravan is heading east, for example, while I hustle north. The caravan will be leaving soon, and as you can imagine, if I have not mustered my forces and returned within a couple of days, they will depart without my contribution. Maybe I could catch up, but if the caravan escort shows ignoble intent, they might take advantage of the light, loyal guard and wrest control before I can lend support.

I can set aside my engagement; there are many things worse than marrying a year late. I can set aside the annoyance of not receiving a blessing upon my departure; it was but a dark moment in an otherwise peaceful lifetime, or as peaceful a life as could be expected when shared with four sisters.

But this challenge before me is daunting. Perhaps I am prepared, perhaps not. I have lined up the tasks, and have assigned odds to each one–I know this sounds like Pilla; please bear with me–and cumulatively, I have determined my odds of success to be between one in four and one in ten. Maybe my big question is: what do I do if I fail? Gods be merciful, and tell none that I have asked this of you, please, but… can we discuss what it might look like… to fail?

L: Of course, Kyra. I am here to listen, never to judge. We can discuss anything you want to. It feels as though the very thought of failure weighs heavy on you, yet you also acknowledge the sheer scale of your task and its daunting nature. So, tell me—what might failure look, for you?

K: For me? Maybe that is the difficult part. Nine hundred stone of iron. You know what that looks like. Thirty wagons. Sixty horses. Two dozen of our own loyal cavalry and their mounts. Thirty teamsters and thirty crossbowmen, most likely. They will be traveling for two months, missing the harvest. Forgive me–I speak of numbers again, ranging dangerously into territory best left to my younger sister and Father… But people should be putting back winter stores instead. Ice could fall tomorrow. Starvation might come if winter lingers, and should nine hundred stone of the king’s tax be stolen? You know we will still owe the king, and we would be unable to buy grain. Failure could look like starvation for the people. Was that three years ago? No, four.

Father and Mum sent Quince and me to the woodsmen six years ago. We made coal during the long summer days. One of the old master woodsmen was wise. I loved the man and his stories in the evening, but he made us work during the day. I grumbled incessantly at Father leagues away in his castle. But what did we learn? Quince with her charm and her lavender blossoms, we learned that our blood is no different from that of the woodsmen.

You asked what failure would look like for me. Gods be merciful. I shall eat. I shall have a fire during the winter solstice when the sun appears for only a wink. Though dozens perish and freeze during the long night, I will survive because mine is the blood of nobility. Fair or not?  You are unable to cast judgements, so I shall answer for you. Not.

L: So it seems to me that the price of failure is the loss of dozens of lives. You will be protected because of your noble blood, but I see that the thought of such a loss is a burden to you. You are conscious of the heavy price failure would bring, and that in itself creates a huge burden for you. From the numbers you’ve given, you are aware of the tasks you must carry out. You value the lives of others; you have seen that your noble blood does not make you any different to the common folk. So… I wonder what that means. Does it make your mission feel all the more important to carry out, to avoid as much loss of life as you can?

K:Yes… yes. That is what weighs on me. And as you point out, weight is compounded. My life–and I do not go so far as to say it is forfeit–but as I wear the mantle of my parents, in some capacity I had expected one day to find myself serving as a leader. I expected neither this responsibility, this … shape, or these consequences.

L: So your life isn’t going the way you expected. I get the impression you’re feeling a bit frozen at the moment. Trapped by the decisions of others that you had no choice in making. Would that be accurate?

K: Yes, that is accurate. I swear you are in my head. I had a dream last night, I journaled it. One day, perhaps, I’ll jot all these impressions down, ask Halla if she would proof it, and then turn it into a bound manuscript. Imagine the fun that might be! Ah, here it is:

I dreamed of being buried in a heavy, serene snowfall. I stared, unblinking, through pine boughs to a colorless sky beyond as snowflakes landed on my face. Although I tried to draw my knees to my chest, my legs were frozen. My arms, too, were so heavy they could not be moved.

L: That dream tells of some conflict within you. The snowfall is serene—that speaks of some of peace. Perhaps some part of you accepts what you must do. And yet, at the same time,  you’re trapped beneath that snow. Buried, unable to move. I wonder what you feel truly trapped by in your current situation—is it that you don’t know what to do, or is it that you do know what to do but it feels like too much responsibility for you to proceed?

K: If you have had the misfortune of witnessing a jester’s act, at some point, it usually involves juggling three items. Sometimes the items are the same size, but I feel in this case there are two palm gourds and a melon. I know what needs to be done, and I have a plan to accomplish what I can in the time allotted. I do not know if it will be enough to make a difference, and that is the melon.

L: That’s an evocative image. You are juggling two palm gourds and a melon—and it’s that melon concerning you. I’m wondering what, in real terms, that means. Do you feel as though you will eventually drop all three items—or perhaps just the melon?

K: It is the melon. Spectators only watch the melon. Wide-eyed children? They see nothing else. The jester will toss palm gourds into the crowd if he must to ensure the melon does not split on the cobble. I saw a jester once drop all the palm gourds–ostensibly on purpose–to make a spectacle of saving the melon.

My best effort might prove fruitless, and the people of Gaston, Riverfork, Silver Spire, and all those residing in the Western Holdings will be watching to see if Lady Kyra’s melon bursts at her feet.

L: You’re doing everything you can to keep that melon in the air. It’s taking all your energy and focus. But at the same time, you’re doing so much more than that as well. Your responsibilities and choices are numerous, yet people just see that melon.

K: Responsibilities are numerous, yes, but choices are few. Either I continue, or I stop. If I choose to stop, the melon may fall. If I choose to continue, despite my best efforts, the melon may fall. We are all watching the melon for which I am responsible, but over which I have limited influence. Am I supposed to be content with this?

I shall spread the word, like seed grain, but I cannot make it germinate, nor do I control the rain. Frost may come early or late. At the risk of introducing another metaphor to make my point, I cannot control the responses of others any more than I can control the events leading to harvest. If I stand at the harvest surrounded by sheaves and sheaves of grain can I be content with that? Obviously I can. If I stand with a single stalk of grain, am I supposed to be content with that too?

L: You’re right, you can’t control the responses or others or the events taking place. All you can control is how you choose to act, whether that be making acting choices or in response to situations happening. So, my question is—what are the choices you wish to make now? What is in your control, and what must you allow to occur without the ability to control it?

K: I shall continue forward. It is not a real choice, though, for there are no reasonable alternatives.I shall issue a call to arms among the Plainsmen, and I suppose I must allow them to respond as they see fit..

L: There are no reasonable alternatives, so you see your choices are limited. But that doesn’t make it any less of a choice to issue that call to arms. It still remains your decision. A difficult one, and one you do not take lightly. I sense a lot of courage in that.

K: Thank you, again. I am not sure I can define success or failure independent of the outcome. Success or failure is determined by others–like children watching the melon.

I think the best I can hope for is to do what I can today. If I am still breathing tomorrow, perhaps I can continue. If the melon falls one day, perhaps I will not be rebuffed if I would otherwise be able to participate in making amends.

L: It sounds as though you know what you need to do, Kyra. We’ll wrap up the counselling session here. It’s clear to me that you have been given a great responsibility. It has changed how you thought your life was supposed to go—but that doesn’t mean you do not have the courage to do what you must. From what you have told me, you have a strong sense of what you must do. You’ve told me your next steps. All you can do is take one step at a time. Yes, perhaps the melon might fall at some point—but there’s also a chance it won’t. We cannot know what our future holds for us. All we can do is keep taking those steps and making the best choices we can given the paths in front of us.

It’s been lovely getting to know you. I hope you stay in touch and let me know how you get on. Take care.

K: This has likewise been a pleasure for me. Should I have children of my own, I will seek you out again and hopefully have the opportunity to expose them to your art. I would invite you to introduce yourself to my younger sisters in Gaston, but again, I would appreciate you not speaking at all to Naphtha until I have returned. Pilla would be fine but Naphtha is too crafty to risk approaching with a secret. On second thought… No, please avoid her.

Should my melon remain intact, I look forward to meeting you again.Regardless, thank you for your time. Please greet my family in my name should you meet any; I send my love.

What an interesting session. I, for one, can’t wait to read Kyra’s story.

Now, for a bit about the author, Matthew!

Geographer, biologist, bassist, botanist (whose published statistics were at one time significant in that world,) pythonista, former home brewer, and dad-nerd. Matt understands all those languages and a bit of Spanish too, but he rarely vocalizes the words. His ideas must all go somewhere, though, so he can make room for more. He was born and grew up in rural North Texas. Rural North Texas grew up around him, but he still calls the place home along with his wife, children, extended family, and dogs.