Understanding Etel was not for the weak-minded; she was a woman of contradictions. I was one of the few privileged enough to know her. I saw the cruel way her mouth twitched when she was proven right; the candles she left burning for the kitchen staff; the flowers she watered on her own, never skipping a day.
As the firstborn of the Botold family, Etel learned to manoeuvre the intricacies of nobility at an early age. Widowed twice, she was the sole inheritor of the Erdi family she had married into. Much to the envious scrutiny of the Royal House, Etel rebuilt the sunken and rat-infested harbours of Bodora, which, to this day, stands at the forefront of commercial trade in Venar.
The real source of her ever-blooming wealth, however, was the very soil she ruled over. Under her protection, Etel fortified the cursed land and soon cultivated its unique reserves. The “putrid bog”, as most called it, had become her pride and sanctum. The details of her first years in the marshes are still shrouded in mystery. She refused to talk about them… even to my very humble self.
Etel showed no interest in the Erdi crown; that, at least, I know for certain. While many believed her decision to open a new seminary in Echek was to plant the seed of a new generation of aristocracy who were loyal only to her, she denied such accusations until the very end. Yet, rumours persisted, twisting many tongues, noble and commoner alike. The public loved her, of course, for there was no greater entertainment than scandals among the most powerful.
But loving Etel had always had teeth. And I wonder, sometimes, how differently fate would have weaved its web had she been left well alone.