Jasper's breath rattled in a heavy sigh, hand all but shaking as Aliera did up the tiny buttons upon her dress. Aliera had always been a wonderful maid, even if she did act more of a mother than a servant at times. She could not be blamed, as she had all but raised Jasper since her mothers death nearly seventeen years ago. It had been nearly half that number since Jasper had been forced into the High Seat of House Kielle, at the tender age of nine. While she should have been toying with dolls and perhaps skipping rope, she was learning politics and memorizing the rules which made a High Seat fit to hold their place. A child forced into a woman's shoes.

The fireplace popped and crackled, the result of pine being stacked within the mantle when it had been cold. Her private dressing room was always cold in the nights, though by the time she woke to walk through the small wooden door upon the left wall which led to her bedroom, there was always a fire blazing and breakfast laid out upon the small cloth-covered table. Tairen mazes were, and always had been one of her favorite designs, which lead anyone to easily surmise the cause for the rooms décor. Light indigo walls, the trim worked in the mazes, down to the crimson rugs worked around the hems. Gilding also presented itself in an array of gold trimmings upon everything from thin Sea Folk porcelain, to the high-necked pitcher full of mulled wine which had long since gone cold. Undoubted it would be replace within moments.

Jasper was far from fond of being waited on hand and foot, especially with the number of duels which had come in since her nomination for the Court. Her body hid the scars of those battles, yet her opposition had always lain defeated in the streets, often those of the Rahad. Larger scale battle had impressed themselves upon her mind from countless expeditions in the Blight with her father. He had moved to Saldaea long before Jasper was forced into a position which frowned upon battle. He died last year to a Myrddraal's blade, a fitting death for the type of man he was. Yet now she found herself headed to a place which she believed would make him quite proud.

"The Asha'man has arrived my Lady," Aliera gave a slight pause at the wrinkling of Jasper's nose, fingers working quickly to change the red beads to blue in order to match her selected dress. The finest of blue silk, embroidered in silver mazes along the hems and bodice, along divided skirts, perhaps a bit too much embroidery for the event. Nor was it her preferred style of clothing. It was no secret that Jasper had looked forward to her journey to the Black Tower, though she resented that it was at the cost of her possible position in the Queen's court. Any woman of Ebou Dar desired such a place. Yet the chance of rule would be obliterated by her venture. "Don't worry, Jasper, you will meet the challenge splendidly." Little did Aliera know that that was the last of her worries.

The White tower had sent a messenger of sorts to inform her that at the age of twenty-five, she was a bit too old to be accepted as a Novice. Jasper, in response, had no more than waved them off, closing the door in an abashed Aes Sedai's face. From the texts she had buried herself in on countless night's, it was far from the place for her anyways. Strict rules that embodied bowing and scraping, and while the Black Tower entailed much of the same, she felt it was a place she could be of use.

The venture to the entry hall was uninterrupted for the most part, expect for Jasper's occasional farewell to a cousin, or perhaps the standard instructions given to a servant. Her things had already been taken down, which she noted by Aliera's swiftly given list of events, and the black coated man waited impatiently by the door. Asha'man never expected to wait on people. Especially not women who were soon to be Soldiers of the Black Tower. With lengthy auburn hair which looked to need a comb, and a line of a mouth which always seemed in a snarl, the man was far from handsome, and a leap away from gorgeous. But all was made up for in the mystique of being Asha'man. All.

"Come, child," Jasper gritted her teeth at the word. She only wished such a thing were true. Light, how she wished things were so carefree as they were when her mother ruled over House Kielle, and Jasper was left to play idly in a corner. "The Black Tower awaits." A carriage waited outside, beneath the shadows of clouds which surely promised snow to come. Snow was rare in Ebou Dar, but the winter seemed to bring it in abundance this year. Her false smile never faded as she stepped through the vertical slash of bluish-white light which suddenly appeared, widening into a hole within the air that showed the black walled village that was the Black Tower beyond.

Her feet hit the dirt packed ground in a gust of icy wind, which cut easily through the fox-lined cloak which Aliera had slipped about her shoulders. The smile did fade then, as Jasper's eyes set upon the Black Tower. Her heart beat in her ears, her stomach knotting in her throat. Few things scared Jasper Alliena Kielle, but failure did. And at the Black Tower, there was always room for failure, especially for a woman. The presence of the Asha'man's hand upon her back was noted, as the man ushered her towards the Tower across pebble-strewn grounds. Indeed, there was always room for failure.