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Post by PFA on Jan 30, 2015 23:19:10 GMT -5
Did anyone ask for another thread of Medieval fics? 8D Corvus is home to a lot of Houses and characters besides just the Jades. This here is a thread for stories about various minor characters from Corvus. Index |
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Post by Tiger on Jan 30, 2015 23:19:47 GMT -5
When Anders Escalus, the Flight Lieutenant of the third wing of Jade Fireknights, woke that morning, he could instantly tell something was off. It was the year 1310, and for the past two years a record low of rainfall had gripped the entirety of Kyth, causing widespread famine as crops failed and livestock died in spite of the best efforts of the populace. Even in the marshy region of Corvus there was a marked lowering of water levels, though for the most part they were still managing relatively okay with careful rationing. However, the immediate neighbors of Corvus, the region of Kine, was not so fortunate. Being mostly flat prairie, the lack of rain had turned all of Kine into a dry, barren wasteland. Every day the death toll seemed to climb higher as people starved in their homes or fell victim to dehydration. And it was about to get a lot worse. That morning there was an acrid scent in the air, and an irritation that made Anders’ eyes sting. The twenty-seven year old man had been a fireknight for over a decade by this point, and he knew that smell like the back of his own hand- smoke. His heart leapt into his throat, and he immediately went to the window of his tiny cottage, expecting to find half of Solis ablaze. To his surprise, however, he found no such thing. There was a blanket of grey-white mist over the entire city as far as the eye could see, but no discernible source. A fire was definitely blazing somewhere- but where? He got his answer in the form of a formal summons by none other than Lord Everett himself- a rare occurrence, since usually Anders took his orders from one of the higher-ups in the fireknight ranks. If the lord of House Jade was getting personally involved, this had to be serious. And serious it was. Sometime in the early morning a blaze had started somewhere in Kine- no one was sure how, but with the entire region tinder-dry what started as a small fire had rapidly escalated into a massive inferno that was spreading across the plains completely out of control. In one of the many meeting chambers of Jade Manor, the House’s newest mage was sitting at a mostly-empty table, a finger tracing over the map sprawled in front of him and his eyes distant except when he glanced down at the map. Sometimes he looked down longer than others, and there was a hint of nervousness in his expression. He had only been here a year, after all, and this was an enormous job. The fact was, Leif Jade was the only mage who could send a magical construct over the border faster than the phoenixes could fly, and maintain the ability to tap into its vision over such a great distance, without drastically pulling himself in the process. It had taken a long time, and a good deal of energy; his face gleamed with sweat and his free hand, still clasped around his wand, shook a little. But at last, his eyes came fully into focus, and he circled a wide swath with his finger. “There - there’s your fire. Or, fires.” He tapped his wand to the page and trailed a glowing green trail around the same area, and a green border remained behind as if inked onto the page. Leif sank back into the chair, breathing heavily. Everett nodded. “Thank you, Master Leif.” He turned to Anders, his mouth thinning. “While normally Kinean territory is under the jurisdiction of Miller and his minor lords, this is not something we can just ignore, especially given how badly Kine is floundering already. With no water they have no means of stopping this inferno- and as badly out of control as it already is, it might come as far as Corvus if not stopped.” He met the fireknight’s eyes squarely. “Lieutenant Escalus, I am giving you special permission to cross into Kine for a rescue mission. Take your wing, and warn as many of the Kinean citizens in the path of the inferno as you can that they need to evacuate. If you must, airlift those too old or infirm to make the escape on their own. While you are doing that, you are also to send a small group with your phoenixes to start a second fire line in the path of each of the blazes to burn away the flammable debris in their path and cut them off. With any luck that will be enough to quell this blaze before it can claim any more lives than it will have already.” Anders nodded, bowing to the Jade lord before turning on his heel to gather the rest of his wing. To his relief, when he arrived at the military barracks he almost immediately found his second, or Right Wedge as the fireknights called them, Cai Shahar. Anders sighed with relief, running a hand through his short-cropped pale brown hair. “Ah Sir Shahar, I had hoped you’d already been sent for,” the Lieutenant said. “We’ve an important mission from Lord Jade himself, and time is of the utmost essence- gather the others and have them assemble with their phoenixes at the yard no later than half past the hour- light cloth gear only, no weapons. We don’t want any extraneous weight slowing down the birds. I’ll explain in detail once everyone’s together.” Cai nodded sharply in return. “Aye, Lieutenant.” He was relieved that there might be an explanation for the smoke coming - at least, that was what Cai assumed it was. Surely the smell of smoke that hung through the air, seeping into the Manor itself and thick in the streets of Solis itself, was the most urgent priority. If even Cai thought the smell was strong, there was definitely a problem; laboring in a Courdonian ore foundry was hardly work immune from the reek of smoke and burning things. He did not particularly like being reminded of where he’d grown up. The flecked burn scars scattered around the right of his lower jaw, spotting his arms like one of the Veluzian jungle cats in places, and of course, the brand on his shoulder, generally did more than enough to keep the memory alive. Cai swallowed both fresh relief and old resentment, and with a respectful salute, went to fetch the fireknights under Lieutenant Escalus. By the time the other fireknights in the third wing began to assemble, Anders was already waiting there with his female phoenix, Mirja. She had her saddle and reins, but none of her flight armor; there would be no weight they didn't’ absolutely need to burden the birds with, not if they wanted to make it to Kine in time to prevent further casualties. Anders stroked Mirja’s face, and she piped a few notes of phoenix song at him soothingly, sensing that he was on edge. She was always good at calming him down- for a long time after he’d left his family, House Escalus of Heleos, he had felt like she was the only friend he had in the world. Though most of his wing knew he was of one of the Corvid noble houses, only a very few of them knew that he was actually the lord’s eldest son, and strictly speaking the legal heir to the estate. However, when it became clear that Anders had been born with no mage gift, the Lord of Escalus passed him over for the title in favor of his younger brother Filipe, who was a mage. Becoming a Jade fireknight had served both to give the disinherited nobleman something meaningful to do, and to get him as far from Heleos and the father who he felt had betrayed him as feasibly possible. When the last of the wing arrived, Anders straightened and turned to face them. “Here’s the mission- I’m fairly sure you’ve noticed the smoke that the wind has blown over Solis. It’s very hard to ignore. It seems a wildfire has started over the border in Kine, and is currently blazing out of control. Lord Everett has given us special dispensation to cross into Kinean territory and address the disaster before it escalates.” The Lieutenant gestured to his wingmates. “Most of you will break formation once we cross the border, and make for the villages and towns in the path of the fire as quickly as you can. Evacuate the people, by whatever means you deem necessary. I trust your judgement.” He turned to Cai. “Shahar, you’re staying with me to move further into Kine- our job is the most important, but also the most dangerous. We’re to find a firebreak point as close to the blaze as possible and command our phoenixes to light a backfire.” Cai nodded his understanding. “Yes, Lieutenant.” Backfire had never been much more than a training exercise before - a very practical one when riding birds who could chose to take a lightning strike and set their wings and tails aflame with it, but not one that saw much use. But clearly they needed to do something, if the fires in Kine were raging so badly the smoke could be smelled across the border. And it wasn’t as if a great deal of water was lying around to be spared. “How far into Kine is the fire, Sir?” he asked. “About two hour’s flight time from the border at top speed, at least at the moment,” Anders replied. Grimly he added, “But the wind is carrying the fire across the plains very quickly, and with the drought all of Kine might as well be kindling- there’s no telling how far it will have travelled by the time we actually get there.” The pulled out the map where he’d marked out the fire lines, beckoning the knights closer so he could show it to them. “And as you can see here, it isn’t just one fire- sparks carried by the wind have lit several. This is not going to be a quick job, nor an easy one.” Cai stepped forward to study the map, motioning to his phoenix, Tamir, to stay where he was. The marked places were uncomfortably wide, especially when one recalled just how much land was represented by the relatively tiny space. Well, wide or not, the fires were their job to stop. Cai took note as well of as much of the surrounding territory and their route as he could. At a certain point they could probably navigate by firelight alone, but getting off-route could be disastrous; every lost second could mean a life they couldn’t save. He was one of the last knights to step back from the paper - right into a nudge from Tamir’s broad beak, which Cai returned with a brief pat - but he was confident he could help keep their way. Once everyone had had their fill of the map, and after a glance toward Lieutenant Escalus to ensure that there weren’t more orders or explanations he intended to issue, Cai swung himself into Tamir’s saddle and raised his voice to give orders to the other fireknights. “Mount up - set your straps.” A moment’s waiting, though only a brief one; the fireknights were all quick at the straps that kept them in place on their phoenix’s backs. “Take formation.” He watched the knights as he worked his own straps, Tamir leisurely heading to his usual place in the formation. Assured everyone was ready to go, Cai adjusted his grip on Tamir’s reins and looked to his commander for the command to take off. Having already mounted up and strapped himself in on Mirja’s back while Cai was seeing to the rest of the wing, Anders nodded his thanks to the Right Wedge and turned so that he was facing forwards, at the head of the v-shaped flight pattern that would allow the phoenixes to maximize speed while minimizing the energy they had to expend. “Formation to go aloft on my mark! 3… 2… 1!” The riders didn’t need to do anything- the phoenixes knew exactly what the countdown meant, and Mirja took to the air, each of the successive birds in the v formation a split second behind the one before. Within a minute, the entire wing- twelve fireknights total, including Anders and Cai- was spiraling above Solis. Once he was certain none of the birds was lagging in such a way that indicated an injury or faulty strap on their harnesses, Anders gave the hand-signal to move out- the fireknights relied mostly on hand signals while in the air, since the rush of the wind and the necessary distance needed between each bird so they wouldn’t crash into each other often drowned out verbal orders. The flight over Corvus was long, but mostly uneventful one. Fortunately Solis was relatively close to the border with Kine, but it was still over two hours flying time to get to the border- Anders wasn’t sure how his fellows were holding up, but he felt like every wasted second added an odd sort of pressure to his chest, compressing his ribs until he wanted to scream with frustration. It certainly didn’t help anything that the closer they got to the border, the thicker the acrid smoke got. Fortunately the phoenixes were mostly okay in it. The fireknights, who had to be protected from the dangers of flames given their trademark mounts, had enchanted rag clothes to cover their mouths and noses so that they wouldn’t suffocate, and already wore goggles to keep the sting of fast moving air from burning their eyes, which doubled as protection against the smoke… but it was still thoroughly unpleasant. Once they crossed the border, most of the wing scattered to evacuate the people in the way of the fire. However, Anders and Cai flew on, searching on the horizon for the distant line of orange that would herald their arrival at their destination. The flight here had been calm enough, aside from the smoke. Cai worried it might grow thick enough to cause visibility problems the closer they came to the fire itself - though if the phoenixes were ablaze to light the backfire, they should be easy enough to see. It was almost enough to make Cai wish he were a mage, but it was a thought he neatly sliced away and discarded. There were reasons to be grateful for not having magic, especially not magic powerful enough to be used by the Courdonian slavelords. Valuable as those sorts of slaves were, Cai could not imagine he would have been able to escape had he been one of those unfortunate people. Back to the situation at hand - finding the fire. The wing formation shifted to a slightly broader shape as more fireknights broke off from the group, heading toward the small pockets of villages and they no longer needed protection from the headwinds for quite so many birds. Cai glanced after each fireknight as they left, noting which one they were and where they had split from the group, memorizing the location on the map. If any riders were missing when the formation regrouped, it would be easier to find them afterward. For the most part, however, Cai’s attention was on the horizon. Just the smallest flicker of orange was all either he or Lieutenant Escalus needed to spot… The twelve-strong wing had dwindled to three fireknights and their birds by the time Cai finally spotted something. He nudged Tamir’s left flank with the side of his boot, and Tamir gave the far-traveling, almost hoot of a sound that indicated ‘west’. Simultaneously he made the hand-signal for “target”, so that if either fireknight was unsure of what he meant, they could simply glance back or over and understand. At Cai’s call-sign, Anders immediately turned to look to the west, and caught sight of the distant flicker of the wildfire. As he did, out of the corner of his eye he saw the last member of the wing peel away, heading for the distant dot of a village immediately along the path of the flames. He turned to Cai, giving the hand-signal to indicate that he understood, and then made the gesture which indicated that they needed to draw up closer to discuss their next move. He nudged Mirja with his knees, pulling slightly on the reins to slow her. She could not hover as a hummingbird might, so she was forced to enter a circular flight pattern to stall in the air until Cai could catch up to fly alongside. “We need a firebreak, or the backfire will just make the problem worse,” he shouted to the right wedge. “Can you check the map? There might be a river or a road nearby.” Cai nodded, looking down at the map. Luckily Kine was largely flat, open country, and it was easy to find blue lines of rivers and the brown of roads. “There’s a river due north.” He glanced from the map to the distant line of flames, squinted slightly, and nodded. “The fire shouldn’t have reached it yet; I doubt there’s any water but at least the bed should be clear. If it’s been consumed already, there’s a road to our back, but using it would put the village between two oncoming fires.” Anders winced. They were there to save the villagers, not immolate them between two opposing fire lines with no hope of escape. “The river it is,” he called back to Cai. “You try to find the outermost eastern edge of the fire, then start from just beyond there along the side of the river- I’ll head to the western edge, and meet you in the middle.” “Aye, Lieutenant.” Cai folded the map and tucked it into his pocket, taking Tamir’s reins in both hands and giving a light press with his knees to the bird’s flanks. Tamir started forward, following the touch of the reins and heading northeast. The smoke started to grow significantly thicker as they flew closer to the fire. It wasn’t long before Cai had to signal Tamir to fly lower. Cai always worried about flying through thick smoke - it was an old worry, born of fires in the foundry rather than anything he’d experienced as a fireknight. In fact, flying through thick smoke was a legitimate battle strategy if a fireknight needed to lose, say, a persuing Courdonian gryphon. Phoenixes could breath the smoke all day long and not be bothered by it, and their second eyelids protected their eyes from any irritation. The knights riding them had their goggles and face-masks, which had to be strong enough to protect them from flames burning on either side and at their backs. Cai pushed the worry about smoke back, and focused on finding the river and keeping Tamir on course. Finally, it came into sight - a wide riverbed, completely barren of water. Just cracked, dry earth and not so much as a shred of a wilted water plant or a suffocated fish. The people in the nearby village and the wild animals must have picked the bed clean a long time ago. It was a perfect firebreak. Cai reached down for a strap at the base of Tamir’s neck, just underneath the thicker, wider one for his reins, and gave it two light tugs. Tamir chirped excitedly, and gave a great downward flap of his wings and a sharp flick of his tail. Cai saw the shimmer of faint gold light rush along the wing feathers, and knew it was darting down the tail, too, and when the gold light vanished from the tips of the outermost primary - flame flared to life on the surface of the raptor’s wings. From the left, right, and back, Cai felt the force of the fire’s heat, but none of the warmth itself. Stray sparks, blown by the wind or tipped by Tamir’s flapping or just landing from where they’d sprung by chance, died when they hit his enchanted armor. The Right Wedge gave the signal for a dive and Tamir eagerly complied, following the touch of the reins Cai had drawn taut and sweeping through a small patch of brush before his rider signaled him to rise again. Cai had Tamir swoop around once and assured himself that the fire was properly sized - not so small it would be useless against the oncoming fire, but not so large that it would become a problem itself. “One down,” Cai said, patting Tamir’s neck before urging him forward again, to the next bit of dead branches lingering near the riverbed. Eventually, Cai met up with Anders, who had been doing much the same from the opposite direction. The two of them flew above the fires that they’d started, watching them eat away at the brush along the riverbed to create a swath of blackened earth all along it- but not burning high enough to be caught by the wind and spark a larger fire like the one bearing down on them from the west. Eventually the backfire burnt itself out, too small to sustain itself for long, but it had done it’s job. The line of the larger fire reached the coal black tracks of the firebreak, and could go no further; there was nothing left for it to burn. Still, the two fireknights remained, watching until the fire below was naught but smoldering embers. It would be pointless to leave the job half done, only for the fire to flare back up with a large gust of wind. Once it was clear that the fire had lost all hope of regaining its former momentum, Anders turned to his Right Wedge and gave the hand single to head northwest- to the next of the fires that Everett’s mage had indicated. One down, and if the estimate had been right, four still to go. It was going to be a long, exhausting day. And it had only just begun. * * * * * Anders, his second, and both of their mounts were so streaked with black soot and grey ash that by the time they caught sight of the final line of fire, the color of their clothing and feathers was almost impossible to make out. The Lieutenant was exhausted- riding was a lot more exercise than one might have assumed, with the amount of strength it took to keep astride in spite of speed, air currents, and the steady up and down rhythm of his mount’s wings. He could only imagine how badly off Mirja was. She was the one doing most of the exercise and setting the fires. He doubted that the birds would have the energy to make it back to Solis by the time this was over- fortunately the fireknights had anticipated that, and along the flight had agreed through hand signals to regroup in a town a few hours flight south of Hereford to recuperate before heading back home. Just one more fire to extinguish, and they were finished… Then, just as Anders was about to turn to Cai to ask about a firebreak to set for this last inferno, he saw the town. A town still full of people, unevacuated and seemingly unaware of anything wrong save the choking smoke that they must have shrugged off after all day of nothing coming from it. It wasn’t a huge place, but it was bigger than what he would have called a “village.” Set on either side of what appeared to have once been a narrow stream and was now nothing more than a ditch, it was directly in the path of the oncoming blaze, though Anders doubted anyone in the town would have been able to see it yet from their much lower vantage point. “Shahar, a firebreak!” he bellowed to the Right Wedge. “We need a firebreak, now!” Cai looked up sharply at the tone of his Lieutenant’s voice, then almost automatically back to the map to do as he’d been ordered. From the corner of his eye, however, he spotted the town. That explained the urgency perfectly. “There’s a river, but it’s behind us,” Cai said in a clipped but level tone, tucking the map away and trying to think, quickly. “Evacuation…” He glanced between the oncoming fire and the town. “No, not enough time.” If Tamir and Mirja were fresher, they might manage it, barely, but the birds had already been worked quite hard. “We can try to build a ‘break - or one of us can. Do you think we could manage the two tasks in time, Sir?” Anders looked down at the village, thinking as fast as he could. “No. Not alone anyway- I think we need to outsource this one if we’re going to have a prayer.” He met Cai’s eyes squarely. “The villagers will have to help us put a firebreak around the perimeter of the village- dig one, I suppose. Then you can burn out around it, while I set a proper backfire at the river. Hopefully that’ll allow the fire to bypass the village, with nothing around to get to it. It’s risky but… we don’t have time, it’s a risk we have to take.” Cai nodded - he was right, dangerous but necessary. “Agreed, Sir.” He took a quick look over the small town and its tight streets. “There’s a cattle pen we can land in there, it looks close to the town center, so we can get them all gathered and explain this quickly.” Anders nodded. “I’ll go on ahead- you do a quick sweep of the area from aloft. Check for any shepherds, goatherds or otherwise stray villagers, and if you see someone warn them to get inside the boundaries of the houses as quickly as they can. Anyone who’s not in the village before we start the fires is signing their own death warrant, and I don’t want that on my conscience today.” “Understood, Sir - I’ll make sure they’re all in the village.” He was relieved Anders was going to take the lead on getting the town’s attention; though Cai could manage if he had to - and in a situation like this, he would have - he didn’t prefer drawing the attention of large groups of people. The fireknights under his command were one thing, but he had gotten to know and trust them, even if he didn’t often show it. He guided Tamir down and around, starting his circle of the town as quickly as he thought Tamir could handle. Meanwhile, Anders sent Mirja into a steep dive, so that she alighted in the cattle pen that Cai had previously indicated. The two of them immediately drew attention, though somewhat to the fireknight’s dismay it was largely fear and confusion. Not entirely surprising, given that he and his phoenix must have looked like black soot demons, and phoenixes were seldom seen in Kine anyway, but not conducive to the urgency of the situation. Anders quickly pulled up his goggles and lowered his mask, revealing a human face, albiet one with a raccoon mask of soot around his eyes where the goggles and cloth had not shielded. “Do not be afraid!” he called to the bystanders. “I am Lieutenant Anders Escalus of the phoenix riding fireknights of Corvus! I was sent here to help you!” He gestured urgently. “Time is against us, and I only have the liberty to explain this once, so for now you will need to trust me. Bring every able-bodied villager to me as quickly as you can. Man or woman, young or old, as long as they have the strength to wield a shovel or hoe they must come!” He could tell that the villagers were confused, and some of them tried to demand an explanation of him despite his insistence that there was no time. But Anders had been born a noble, and had been an officer among the fireknights for five years now; he knew how to assert an air of authority and wasn’t shy about using that ability. Eventually, the villagers had gathered, and he set about explaining what was needed of them. There was no small amount of dismay and disbelief when he explained to them that a fire was bearing down on them, and there was no time to get away. When he began explaining the need to dig a firebreak so that he and Cai could set another fire to protect the village, he was met with outrage. “We’re all gonna burn to death, so you want us to burn faster?” one man demanded. “How’s more fire going to help?” someone else shouted, and the fireknight had to fight back his exasperation. Mirja butted his back with her head, fluting reassuringly. As he opened his mouth to reply, he caught sight of a shadow overhead and looked up to see that Cai had arrived. Helping a somewhat shaken-looking man of Tamir’s back, Cai said, “Just this shepherd, Sir. His flock’s heading this way, thanks to Tamir.” The phoenix chirruped, sounding a little tired but proud. “They’re at the town border now.” The Right Wedge glanced over the crowd, who had not ceased much in their complaints and frantic confusion. They didn’t have enough time for this, Cai thought, looking in the general direction of the fire. “Lieutenant, if you need a demonstration, Tamir can give one.” As he spoke, Cai was rummaging through the pouch at Tamir’s neck, and he pulled a few spare maps free - he would have to replace them later, but it would be worth it if the demonstration of a firebreak and backfiring was needed. Anders was relieved that at the very least his Right Wedge had completed his task without much issue, and nodded gratefully at the suggestion. “If you would? I could explain but we really don’t have that kind of time, and I’ve already breathed enough smoke without my mask that I don’t know how long until my voice gives out, as much shouting as I’d have to do to be heard over their yelling.” “Claw, Tamir,” Cai told the phoenix, rubbing at the bird’s ashy neck. Tamir glanced back at him, but did as he’d been told and scraped his talons through the ground a few times. Cai pulled Tamir back and to the side of the fresh trenches in the dry earth, leaned over as best he could while still strapped into the saddle, and arranged the papers - one pile, and a few crumpled, smaller ones along the edge of the gouge. “This little ditch that my phoenix dug,” he said to the crowd, “is the firebreak we’re asking you to build. The big pile of papers is the fuel of the fire that’s heading this way. The little crumpled ones are kindling for small fires.” He swallowed, masking a brief grimace. Lieutenant Escalus wasn’t exaggerating about the throat irritation, even with their masks. “Tamir.” When the phoenix looked at him, Cai pointed to the pile of papers. “Give us a spark, please.” Tamir extended a wing, and pointed the tip at the paper Cai had indicated. A single, narrow band of gold light traveled along the veins, and when it vanished, only the tip of the feather lit. The flame was, however, sharply and brief, and sent a thin stream of sparks onto the pages. They caught fire quickly, and after a moment, Cai had Tamir repeat the sparking on the crumpled pages. The smaller fires burned out quickly, taking any bits of paper from the pile they might have been on top of, so that the large fire was barely alive when it reached the makeshift firebreak, and died without much fanfare. . “That is what we need to do,” Anders aid, picking up the thread. “If we can get a firebreak around your town, the inferno will blaze all of the areas around you, but pass the buildings by. You will all be safe. But we need you to trust us, cooperate with us, and we need to do this quickly. Please; dig a trench around the outside edge of the village. At least three feet wide. It doesn’t need to be deep, you just need to make sure there is nothing flammable anywhere in the trench. Use whatever implements you have- shovels, rakes, hoes, it doesn’t matter.” This time, though only the villagers at the front of the crowd had really gotten a good look at the demonstration, they obeyed. It was clear some of them were still skeptical, but at this point they knew they had little choice but to trust the fireknights. It still wasn’t easy- the Kineans were emaciated, gaunt, and sickly- in no shape for intense manual labor. And digging the firebreak was taking every scrap of energy they had to offer. Between the heat, the smoke, and the weakness of the townspeople, it was slow going. Before long, the fire became visible even from the ground, and a surge of panic seemed to shoot through the villagers. Eventually, Anders turned to his Right Wedge, his expression grim. “Go aloft- if we can’t get the firebreak finished before the blaze reaches the town, at least one of us needs to stay alive to set the backfire at the river to stop it going any further. I’ll stay here and supervise the villagers.” Cai had been expecting them both to take to the air when the time came, and he hastily stopped himself from urging Tamir into a takeoff as he processed the end of the order. This was - no, this was not right. A fireknight had to face the possibility of death and sacrifice just much as a knight of any other type, of course, but this… “With respect, Lieutenant, there are only so many great wingleaders. If only one of us goes back to Solis, it ought to be you. Sir.” He pulled the map from Tamir’s pouch and unfolded it. Pulling ash from Tamir’s feathers with the tip if his finger, he started marking the places where the other fireknights had veered off from the group. “I probably ought to not have this on me if I’m staying here with the hotter fires, just to be safe.” “Shahar, a Flight Lieutenant’s responsibility is to see to the safety of his wing,” Anders replied. “And the Right Wedge keeps the Lieutenant on track and takes care of the things he doesn’t have time for.” Anders bristled a little at this, but then he shook his head. “Mirja is bigger and stronger that Tamir- if all goes poorly she can probably make it out faster. I’m trying to weigh risks, not make a needless sacrifice.” “No disrespect meant to Mirja, but the difference between her and Tamir, size-speaking, isn’t that big a difference. Besides, Tamir tends to burn hotter; we might need firebreaks to keep the larger fire back when it gets here and the faster we can set them, the better.” Folding the map, Cai said, “I’m glad you’re not trying to make a needless sacrifice, Lieutenant - neither am I. There’s still time left.” Not much, he knew that, but he wasn’t about to start listing off reasons his Lieutenant should stay in greater danger than his second-in-command. The Lieutenant glared at Cai for a long minute, then he looked away with an expression somewhere between frustration and profound worry. “I never would have imagined of all of my wingmates, the former slave would be the most insubordinate. I hate when you’re right.” “I did run away from Courdon, Lieutenant,” Cai reminded him. “You really ought to have seen some sort of disobedience coming.” He held out the map to Anders. “I’ve marked where the other knights veered off, in case they need to be collected when we make our way back to Solis. I should be able to find the spots again on memory alone, but I’d rather we had the map, parts of Kine are going to look very different after the fires.” He frowned, looking toward the oncoming inferno. He could almost hear it crackling, and judging by the pressure against his armor, the air around them was already heating up. Anders mutely accepted the map, tucking it into his pocket and pulling his mask and goggles back on. As he remounted Mirja and fixed the straps, he looked towards the Right Wedge. “You listen to me- you did not survive Courdon and your escape and years of training to die in some field in the middle of Kine. I had better see you after the fire burns itself out, Woo be my witness. That is an order, Sir Shahar.” “Understood, Lieutenant.” Cai saluted, and urged Talmir forward, toward the villagers still digging the perimeter. Anders nudged Mirja, and she shot skywards again, circling to gain altitude until she was high enough to glide on the winds back towards the river. The Flight Lieutenant didn’t turn around to look back at the town- there was no time, he had his own job to do and he needed to focus on it. Cai’s fate and that of the town was in the Right Wedge’s hands. Cai hurried Tamir through another circuit around the village, checking the width and depth of the makeshift firebreak, rearranging some of the villagers to try and get as much done as quickly as possible. It was hard, he knew that - Cai had spent a significant part of his life half-starved and forced to work anyway, after all - but like him, they had no choice. The Right Wedge kept having to pull down the cloth over his mouth to prevent his orders from being muffled. He could practically taste the fire growing closer as it scorched the grasslands. It at least hadn’t seemed to find anything foul to burn, or Cai would likely have smelled it. Though the grass might have been good for their livestock… Well, the fire had to be stopped first. Otherwise the Kineans would have no grass, no livestock, and no need to be sustained by either. As patches of the firebreak reached completion, Cai ordered those who looked like they still could either to other parts of the ditch, or to start building piles of kindling for backfires. “Wood, branches, old rags - anything that will burn. Start a pile there, there, and there.” It felt like almost no time had passed since Cai had been left in charge of the villagers before the fire seemed like it was nearly on them - no longer a line on the horizon but a huge inferno swallowing the whole sky with flames and smoke. By now, he could see Anders and Mirja’s fire, bearing down on them almost as quickly. Cai made a final circuit of the city, sending people out of the firebreak and away from the piles of flammable material where he could - they had pushed it close, dangerously close. At last, there was no more time - and already the villagers were choking too badly on the smoke to do much more. Cai ordered the last of them away, pulled his mask back on, and gave Tamir the order to fly. They didn’t ascend very high, since Tamir would need his strength for lighting his wings and circling the village to light the backfires. The air was hot and gritty and the crackling flames that towered high into the air crackled loud as any thunder. Cai could almost imagine he was back in the foundry, leaning in close to one of the blast furnaces. The burn scars on his face and arms felt like they were searing in the heat. All right, Tamir - one last push. Cai tugged the strap at the base of his phoenix’s neck, ignoring the sweat pooling inside his gloves. Tamir’s wings and tail burst aflame, and Cai guided him toward the first pile of kindling. * * * * * Once he reached the river, Anders flew along it, trying to find the edge of the oncoming fireline so that he knew where to start building his backfire. He had just finally spotted it, when he caught sight of something in his peripheral vision- a farmhouse. A single farmhouse, in the middle of the wide prairie, miles from the village. He was so far from the town now he couldn’t even see it on the horizon- no wonder Cai had missed these people when he did his sweep earlier. There was absolutely no time to save the farm- not if he wanted to get his backfires lit in time to prevent the oncoming inferno from jumping the river. He barked the order for Mirja to land, and she shot towards the ground like a stone. Not even bothering to wait until she’d fully landed, he began shouting to the people in the house. “Ware!” he bellowed. “There’s a fire coming, you have to flee! Cross the river, it’s the only way to be safe!” A very startled, very skinny elderly couple emerged from inside the house, gawking at the soot covered fireknight. He pointed urgently at the dry riverbed. “You must run! This entire area is going to burn in just a few minutes! We’re lucky if you have ten to spare before the flames get this far! I’m trying to fight the blaze but I need you to evacuate, now!” “But, but our house!” the old man cried. “It’s all we have, and the f-famine…” “The famine will be the least of your concerns if you burn to death!” Anders snapped, looking up again at the onrushing fire. Somewhere beyond that wall he knew that Cai was either alive… or not. Whatever had befallen the village was beyond his power to help anymore. “Listen to me,” he snarled, glaring at them. “One of my men may have just sacrificed his life to help fight these fires, and we are not even of Kine- we were sent here by Lord Everett in Corvus, to save as many lives as we could. Do not make vain our sacrifice with this nonsense! Get across the river!” Not waiting to see if they obeyed, Anders sent Mirja up again, signaling for her to kindle her flame. Fortunately, as she began to dive to set the first of the small fires, he could see the elderly couple seeming to break free of their indecision and bolt for the river. Unfortunately, this delay had cost him time he did not have. The fire was bearing down hard and fast, and he had to scorch the area around the river widely enough to stop it- without Tamir and Cai’s help. “Come on Mirja, you can do this my lovely,” he called to her. “We’re so close, we can stop this!” A tiny blaze here, a little kindling there, wingtips brushed the dry ground and tailfeathers dragged through dead brush. It was so painfully hot that even with his protective gear Anders was sweating, and could feel the exposed skin of his face burning and peeling. Then, with a trumpet of victory, Mirja kicked against the ground and shot up into the air, sparks scattering from her wings as she ascended. Far below, Anders watched as the two lines of fire met, his backfire not having completely burnt itself out before it collided with the wildfire. The two blazes raged against each other, like demons battling for supremacy, before finally the larger of the two began to sputter like a dying candle, and finally was extinguished. “We… we did it,” he said, his voice hoarse from relief and smoke inhalation. “Well done Mirja, well done!” The phoenix piped back at him happily, though it was obvious she was feeling the strain of fatigue. He patted her neck reassuringly. “Soon you can rest, my dear. First we have to go back to the village- we have to check…” And so, her head hanging somewhat with exhaustion, the female phoenix banked towards where they had left the village, soaring over scorched and blackened earth. Anders squinted through the haze of smoke trying to catch sight of the dot that the place would appear to be from so high up. Then… there it was, the town standing just as it had been, only with a wide trench dug all the way around it. Relief hit Anders like a hammer blow, but hard behind it was another jolt of fear. Just because the village was safe, that didn’t mean Cai and Tamir hadn’t perished in the process… Mirja landed once more in the cattle pen, stumbling a little from overexertion. Her rider undid the straps of the harness, climbing down from her back and almost collapsing as his legs hit the ground- he wasn’t in much better shape than his mount. * * * * * Cai and Tamir had been nearly in the middle of the two oncoming fires when they finally set the last backfire; they’d had no way back to the village, only fire at their sides, and hoping to race forward and evade the fires’ meeting was beyond foolish. That left one direction - up. The angle had been so steep that Cai was afraid he was going to slide off Tamir’s back, straps or no, and the fires were right below them; a few stray tongues had actually struck the phoenix and his rider, doing no obvious harm to Tamir, but leaving dark patches on the Right Wedge’s armor. He kept his head tucked close to Tamir’s neck to avoid any of them striking few exposed bits of his face; he had more than enough scars already. They made it above and over the flames, back on the village side of the firebreak. Tamir made a steep dive toward the ground; Cai quickly directed the bird toward the brook in the center of town. The villagers were there already, taking cover from the smoke; Tamir made a rough landing and Cai hurried to unstrap himself from the saddle and join them. The phoenix followed, studying the people in the ditch with a tilted head. When Cai joined them, Tamir nudged him with his beak. “It’s all right, Tamir,” Cai told him in as reassuring a tone as he could manage with his hoarse voice. Apparently it didn’t convince the phoenix, who spread a wing over him, as the birds were trained to do when their rider was injured. Not a bad idea - if any fire did fall toward Cai, or any of the people also sheltered by the phoenix’s large wing, Tamir’s wing could take the hit without any problem. Faster than Cai would have expected, the vicious sounds of the fires started to fade, and finally, died all-together. At last he looked up and found only a few last flames, stranded and without anywhere to spread over the charred earth. The air was still smoky and hot, but it would clear and cool in time. He got to his feet, ruffling Tamir’s feathers as the phoenix bumped his beak against Cai’s chest inquisitively. Cai looked around at the villagers. “Is everyone all right?” Lots of coughing, but through it the Right Wedge heard replies of assent. Good - it seemed they might have gotten everyone out of this alive. Anders must have been back by now - he had clearly set the fire at the river, as intended. Hopefully he hadn’t been waylaid by a problem on the way back...or while setting the fire. It was possible he’d landed somewhere else; it wasn’t as if Cai would have seen Mirja with his face pressed to the dry riverbed. “Tamir - sound position, all clear?” The phoenix rustled his wings but tilted his head toward the sky and gave the matching signal-sound. Three brief, rising cries at a pitch suited for covering long distances. Cai tilted his head so he could better catch any returning sound. Come on, Lieutenant, you have to be around here somewhere… Mirja’s head twisted around at the sound of Tamir’s call, and Andrs sagged against her side with relief. He scratched the feathers just under Mirja’s harness, and ordered her to give a return call to signal assent- one lone note, then four short ones. He pulled off his goggles and pushed back the hood of his cloth gear, though he left the mask up as protection against the thin veil of smoke still hanging in the air. The burns on his upper face and ears from the ambient heat of being caught between the two fire lines at the river stung when exposed to the air, but he ignored it. Still leaning on Mirja as if she were a crutch, the exhausted fireknight headed in the direction he’d heard Tamir’s call from. Finally he spotted them in the bed of the dry stream- one blackened male phoenix, and his rider. “Well done, Shahar,” he rasped, his voice sounding rather as if it had aged fifty years over the course of the afternoon. “Everyone in the village accounted for?” Cai turned and saluted with the arm that wasn’t looped over Tamir’s neck. Though the Right Wedge had already known from Mirja’s return call that the two were alive, it was still reassuring to actually see them in person. Even if Anders looked as if he’d been battling the fires by beating them into submission with his face. “Everyone present so far, Sir,” Cai said, his voice not much smoother than Anders’. “No injuries, either, except a few blisters and exhaustion.” He wished they could do more to help with the later, but carrying food would have weighed the phoenixes down even more. At the very least, though, they could add this village to the map and try to see if Corvus could send resources its way. Eyeing the way Anders was leaning on his phoenix, Cai said, “It shouldn’t be much longer before everything’s settled here. They’d offered to let us stay the night, or at least a few hours. If you and Mirja need a rest, you can take it.” “I shouldn’t like to impose on their hospitality when they already have to stretch their resources so thin… especially now.” The Lieutenant glanced meaningfully around to the blackened earth outside the perimeter of the village. “But a few hours rest to recuperate is probably a good idea, if only for Mirja and Tamir’s sakes.” He turned to the villagers, adding, “If anyone is well enough, there is an elderly couple that was living out of the village near the river- I couldn’t save their house but I was able to get them out before the fires hit. Could someone go and bring them back here? I don’t think Mirja can carry double right now, let alone trying to make two trips carrying double.” One of the younger men of the village agreed to this request, and as he turned to go Anders called out, “Be careful of any lingering pockets of fire! There might be small blazes yet smoldering in places where the undergrowth was thick.” The fireknight ran a hand through his hair, unwittingly leaving streaks of soot in it. “What I wouldn’t give about now for some of that northern snow I hear so much about- at least it would be good for cooling off.” shrugging he turned his attention back to Cai. “How are you and Tamir? You weren’t injured were you?” Cai shook his head. “No, Sir - a little scorched, and tired, but nothing worse than that.” Frowning, he added, “I’m sorry I missed the couple at the river, Lieutenant. That must have cost extra time, and we didn’t have much time to start with.” Anders snorted, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re not a god, Shahar, and the village wasn’t even visible from the air above their farm. It’s hardly your fault. You did well here, as well as in general. It has been a long, exhausting day, and I believe we are both overdue for a rest.” “Thank you, Lieutenant, and agreed.” He was grateful Anders was willing to let the miss of the river house go. It would have surprised no one that a former slave wasn’t fond of disappointing his superiors, but they might have been surprised that Cai’s reasoning was, all things considered, fairly normal. It had taken him years to overcome the instinctive feeling of horror at having realized he’d made a mistake or failed in a task, even knowing - logically - that his superiors were never going to punish him the way his Courdonian owners had so enjoyed. But once that had actually settled into his head and changed his instincts, Cai had realized he still didn’t like disappointing these people - just for different reasons. They were good people, knights with a great deal of power but who took great care to never misuse it, people who had started off as recruits just like any other man, but rose to where they were by talent and hard work and good decisions. Failing someone he knew as well - relatively, anyway - as Lieutenant Escalus was an especially unfavorable thought. “Tamir won’t let me stay at this too long,” Cai went on. “Finishing the headcount should only take a few minutes more, and then we’ll find you and Mirja and get some rest ourselves, Sir.” “See that you do,” Anders replied with a tired smile. “It doesn’t benefit the villagers, yourself or the wing if you work yourself to the point of collapse.” He forced himself to stand upright, walking over to Cai so that he could clap a hand on the Right Wedge’s shoulder. Then he turned, and at the beckoning of one of the villagers he and Mirja left to sleep off the worst of their overexertion. True to his word, Cai didn’t stay long near the dried-up riverbed. Everyone was accounted for, and nobody was in the mood for socializing. The Right Wedge didn’t blame them. He and Tamir started off in the direction Lieutenant Escalus had gone, asking the occasional passer-by if they’d seen where the other ash-coated phoenix and her rider had gone. Not surprisingly, he was able to get directions very quickly, leading him to a barn. Despite the fact that it had not been long since they split up, Anders was already sound asleep by the time Cai made it into the barn, leaning against Mirja’s back with his head slumped forwards against his chest. The phoenix too was asleep, her long neck twisted around so that she could rest her head in her rider’s lap. She cracked one eyelid to see who was there when Cai and Tamir entered the barn, but recognizing the new arrivals she immediately closed the eye again with something resembling a sigh. Cai quietly led Tamir toward the opposite wall; the phoenix had apparently figured out what the plan was just by seeing his wingmate, and settled down, briefly puffing all his ashy feathers. His rider settled next to him, loosening the straps of Tamir’s harness a little so they wouldn’t chafe. “Good job today, Tamir,” Cai told the phoenix, patting his neck and releasing a few small puffs of ash. Tamir chirruped sleepily in response, and let Cai settle back in the crook of his wing. Even covered in ash and having supported numerous fires today, the feathers were quite soft where Cai could feel them, and already cooling to a surprisingly comfortable temperature. Cai turned his head so the speckled burn scars along his jaw rested in the feathers, and it wasn’t long before the Right Wedge and his phoenix were asleep as well. |
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Post by Shinko on Jan 30, 2015 23:20:11 GMT -5
Reposted from my fic thread.InheritanceThe great walled city of Heleos on the southern border of Corvus stood like a fortress, it’s meticulously maintained fortifications daring any ambitious Courdonian armies to try and take it. In the middle of the city was the huge expanse of the Iphicles Institute, the finest school for war mages in all of Kyth. The elaborate stone structure had numerous adjacent stables, phoenix mews, huge courtyards for practicing combat both magical and mundane, and several indoor exercise halls for bad weather.
At the far north of the town, a much smaller structure housed the local noble family who ruled over Heleos and the countryside around it- House Escalus. The Escalus manor consisted of a single two story structure that served the family as headquarters, and two additional wings that- together with a gate at the front and the main house at the back- formed a square around the central courtyard. The leftmost building was where the live-in servants where housed and where the stables where located. The rightmost building was where the family lived. In the center was where the lord conducted his business and met with officials from Heleos and beyond.
Lord Olander Escalus was in his office in this right edged building one morning in mid spring when his son’s chief tutor came to give the nobleman the usual bimonthly report of his eldest son’s academic progress.
“He’s achieved high marks in all of his lessons again this year,” remarked the tutor, bowing formally to the man at across the desk from her. “I often find him in the classroom studying even when I’ve set him at liberty for the day. He has a very strong drive to excellence, and a natural inclination towards cleverness. I’m certain you must be very proud, Lord Escalus- Anders will make a fine successor to your family name.”
Lord Olander Escalcus looked up at the woman and smiled wanly. “It is good to hear, thank you.” He looked towards his nine year old son, who was standing in the corner of the room and fidgeting restlessly. “Well done, my son. Your dedication to your studies will serve you well as the next Lord Escalus.”
Anders brightened, though there was still a faint shadow of doubt in his eyes. “Thank you, Father. I promise I’ll be the best lord there ever was!”
“I’m sure you will,” Lord Olander replied, his gaze flicking away from the child’s face. Though Anders shared his father’s pale brown hair and deep, storm cloud grey eyes, he had not inherited the Escalus family’s gift for magic- according to rumor a fading of the family’s magic bloodline had been plaguing the Jades and other noble families in Corvus for generations now, but this was the first time such a thing had happened to House Escalus. Given that the family traditionally fielded some of Kyth’s most powerful war mages, this was a heavy blow not just to the honor of the house, but also to the defense of the region. What on earth would happen to Kyth if they lost their best magical defenders?
When the silence stretched out for far longer than was comfortable, the tutor cleared her throat. “My lord?”
“Ah, sorry, I was drifting,” Olander replied, shaking his head. “You may go- Anders, why don’t you go tell your mother the wonderful news? I think she’s in the nursery with your brothers.
“Of course, father,” Anders said, bowing to the older man. There was bitter disappointment on the child’s face despite his father’s kindly words. It still wasn’t enough. No matter how hard he worked, how much he tried, Anders could never make the sadness leave his father’s eyes. He knew it was because of his inability to do magic, but Anders held tight to the hope that if he could just be a good leader, a strong warrior, and a learned scholar, maybe he could finally put his father’s mind at ease. Maybe Lord Olander wouldn’t be so afraid for the future that Anders would one day be guiding.
In the meantime, the child went off in search of his mother, Lady Velvet, and his two younger brothers, four year old Filipe and two year old Dimitri. At least maybe he could make the toddlers smile by playing with them- that would be nice.
* * * * *
Three days later, Anders was doing some stretching exercises his arms instructors had taught him in the square courtyard of the Escalus manor when an excited young voice called out to him from around the side of the building.
“Andy! Andy, are you over here?”
Anders looked up, recognizing the voice as belonging to Filipe. The toddler was stumbling a bit as he ran towards his brother, excitement lighting up his features. Like both Anders and their father, Filipe had light brown hair that hung straight about his head. However, where his older brother and father had dark grey eyes like a thunderhead, Filipe’s eyes were the bright blue of a clear summer sky.
“Fill? What’s up?” Anders asked, straightening from his stretches.
“I found something amazing, you gotta come see!” the four year old shouted, grabbing his brother’s arm and tugging on it heartily. Curious now, Anders allowed his younger brother to tow him through the courtyard.
“What is it, Fill, what did you find?”
“A magic bush!” His brother exclaimed. “It’s the coolest thing, you gotta try it!”
A magic bush? Anders had never found any magic bushes in all of his nine years of living in the manor. Baffled, but intrigued, he let his brother guide him to a rosebush close to the wall of the main house. Given the season it was in riotous bloom, covered in bright pink blossoms- save for one, lonely flower on the plant that was instead a deep navy.
“See?” Filipe said, pointing at the plant enthusiastically. “See? It turned colors! I touched it and it turned colors! Try it Anders, try it!”
“But that’s…” Anders started to say it was impossible, but as far as he could remember Filipe had never lied to him before- and this was a very silly lie to tell. Besides, how else would a pink rosebush have put off a blue blossom? A little excited himself, Anders reached for one of the pink flowers and touched it- nothing. He frowned, looking hard at the flower and willing it with his mind to react. Still nothing.
“Fill, are you fibbing?” he asked, turning his frown on the younger child. Filipe, who’d always been a timid child, winced away from the expression.
“No, no I’m not! It’s the truth, watch!” Filipe reached for the same flower Anders was touching, looking hard at it. As his fingers brushed the petals, a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead- and suddenly the flower turned orange.
“Woah!” Anders yelped, jumping back in surprise. Triumphant now, Filipe turned and grinned at his brother.
“See!” he insisted. “It’s magic!”
Tentatively, Anders again reached for the bush, touching one of its blossoms. But just as before, there was no reaction. He kept trying for a solid five minutes, without any success.
“I don’t get it,” Filipe said, disappointed. “Why doesn’t it work for you?”
Anders frowned, thinking hard. Then, an idea struck him, and he beamed.
“Oh Fill, don’t you see? It’s not the bush that’s magic- it’s you!”
“M-me?” the younger boy stammered. Anders grabbed both of Filipe's hands in his, dancing in a circle with his brother.
“Yes! Oh, this is great, Father will be so happy! He always wanted me to be a mage but I didn't have magic. But now you can be a mage, and father will be able to have the mage son he always wanted!” He suddenly turned, tugging his brother with one hand much the same as Filipe had been dragging him to the bush earlier. “Come on, we have to go tell him!”
“But, but-” Filipe protested, his eyes going wide at the thought of seeing their father. The younger Escalus son was rather intimidated by his formidable parent, and generally hid behind Lady Velvet when Olander was around. But Anders didn't give him time to object, so great was his excitement at being able to present their father with the very thing he'd wanted for nine years since his first son was born.
Finally, Anders reached his father's office door, and quickly straighted his hair and shirt. “We gotta look good for when we see father,” he explained, turning to Filipe and tidying him as well. “A lord's sons shouldn't look like a couple of ruffians.”
“R-right,” Filipe said, glancing at the door nervously. “We really gotta tell him?”
“Yes!” Anders insisted. “He'll be so happy, we can't not tell him!”
“Not tell me what?”
Anders and Filipe jumped, turning to see that their father was in fact not in his office, but walking towards it from down the hall. He looked at the two of them curiously, a slightly bemused grin on his face.
“Father!” Anders exclaimed, bowing to the lord with Filipe just a second behind. “Father it's the greatest thing! I was practicing in the courtyard, and then Filipe came because he found a magic bush, but it wasn't magic at all because I couldn't get it to work, and then he made it work and the roses changed color!”
“...What?” Olander asked, looking perplexed and amused at the same time. “Try that again, but take a moment to collect yourself first. What happened, exactly?”
“It's Filipe, Father,” Anders said, trying to condense his story as simply as he could. “He made the roses outside change color! He has magic!”
Olander's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open with shock. “Are... are you sure?” he turned his gaze to Filipe, kneeling next to his younger son as the four year old ducked behind Anders. “Tell me, did you really make the roses change colors? Can you show me?”
“I... I'm not in trouble, am I Father?” Filipe asked tentatively, quivering. Olander shook his head.
“You're not in trouble at all. I just want to see. Here, I have...” he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small piece of clear quartz. He often spelled it to hold light so he could work in the dark without a candle. “Try on this- see if you can make it change color.”
Filipe took the crystal in his tiny hands, frowning at it. He started to sweat again, and then the clear stone took on a deep crimson hue. Smiling a little with pride, though he was starting to flex his fingers as if they hurt, he held it out to his father. “Like this?”
“Exactly like,” Olander breathed, looking down at the chunk of quartz with fascination. Then, he grabbed Filipe, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, my son, the Woo has answered our prayers! You are a mage, my boy!”
“It's great, right?” Anders asked excitedly. “Now it's okay I'm not a mage, 'cause Fill can be one!”
Olander started a bit at this, then looked down at Anders pensively. “I... yes, of course.” He set Filipe down, and the younger boy darted behind his brother again, looking a little shell-shocked. “Can both of you go play outside? I need to talk to your mother.”
“I... you're happy, aren't you Father?” Anders asked as Olander stood up. Hs father smiled, though the expression was a distant one.
“Of course I am. Go play now, Anders.”
* * * * *
The next day, Olander's heir was working with his tutors, when an unexpected visitor interrupted his lessons.
“Anders, I have a special job for you,” Lord Olander said, drawing his son’s attention away from his arithmetic. The young boy looked up at his father, and grinned. To his surprise, Anders realized that little Filipe was with Olander, clinging to their father’s leg. The older boy met his father’s eyes curiously.
“Yes father?”
“Filipe is going to bet having lessons like you did from now on,” the lord explained. “You’ve done very well in your lessons, so I want you to help him learn all he needs to know. Can I trust you to do this for me?”
“Oh! Yes, of course father!” Anders replied, beaming. Then he hesitated, “But… what about my own lessons?”
“For now, you’ll have fewer of them, so you have time to help Filipe,” Olander explained. The child frowned.
“But… aren’t the lessons important? Don’t I need to know all of these things so that I can be a good lord one day?”
“Of course,” Olander replied, his gaze flicking to the side. “But that’s a ways off yet. You have plenty of time, and Filipe’s education is important.”
“Alright, if you say so father,” Anders replied, turning to his shy younger brother and giving him an encouraging grin. “It’s not so hard, Filipe, I’m sure you’ll get it. Come on, you can sit next to me.”
The toddler smiled back hesitantly, releasing their father’s leg and taking a seat beside his brother. “Thanks Anders.”
* * * * *
The young nobleman stared at his parents without comprehension. He didn’t quite believe what they’d just told him.
“I don’t… I don’t understand, Father,” he said finally. “You’re… you’re disinheriting me? I thought I was doing well in my lessons. Did I make a mistake somewhere? If I’ve upset you, just tell me what I’ve done and I’ll fix it!”
“Anders, it’s nothing you’ve done,” Lady Velvet said gently. “Please try to understand, this isn’t a decision you father makes lightly. But he has to think of his duty first and foremost, and it is the duty of House Escalus to supply Kyth with war mages to defend its borders.”
“But we still can!” Anders objected. “I don’t have any magic, but I’ve b-been studying so hard to learn to fight, combat strategy, field command, supply, tactics, I can give orders to the war mages even if I’m not one!”
“It’s not that simple,” Olander said with determined calm. “If we allow magic to start fading from our house’s bloodline, we will gradually become very distant from magic. We will require advisors who are experts in magecraft to help us know how best to dispatch our war mages. Part of what makes the armies of Heleos so potent is that, being war mages themselves, the lords know exactly what their troops are capable of and can command them accordingly.”
“But… but…” Anders tried to object, groping for anything he could say to contradict his father’s edict.
“You are still my son,” Olander went on gently. “Even if you are not my heir. Noting will change that.”
“But Father, I… I just wanted… I tried so hard to…”
The young boy choked. All the time, the effort, the hard work, achieving high marks in all of his lessons even in subjects he didn’t enjoy or wasn’t good at, all of it had been to prove to his father that he was capable. That he could be a good lord of the estate, even if he didn’t have magic. He’d always known by his father’s half-hearted congratulations that it wasn’t really impressing Olander much, but the child had clung to the hope that maybe he could really prove himself if he was just dedicated enough.
“I’m sorry Anders, but my decision is final,” his father said firmly. “You are intelligent, steady, and already well on your way to becoming a brilliant warrior. You will make for a good knight, and maybe one day even rise to an officer’s position. But Filipe will be the heir to House Escalus.”
The nine year old felt his entire body quivering, and his eyes blurred. But he forced back the reaction- it would not do for his father to think him weak, especially not now. He wouldn’t cry. Not even while watching everything he’d worked so hard for slipping from his grasp forever.
* * * * *
For the first year or so after he was stripped of his position as Lord Olander’s heir, Anders had sincerely tried to stay close to his little brother. After all, a young noble child’s life was often a lonely one, isolated from the peasant children in the city and not really permitted to do much playing in the first place between lessons. Filipe and little Dimitri were all Anders had.
But it was so hard. When at five Filipe started to get basic lessons in how to do very simple magic- making light, for the most part, given how young he still was- he become very excited, and wanted to practice and show off all the time. Anders made a show of being happy for him at first, but the constant reminder of why Filipe was now the heir instead of him wore against Anders. Finally, for the first time anyone could remember, the oldest of the Escalus children lost his temper, snapping at Filipe that he didn’t care about seeing him call light and to knock it off already. From a child who’d always made a point to be collected, cool, and in control at all times, this outburst was a very nasty shock for everyone who knew Anders. Filipe made no further efforts to share his magic lessons with his brother after that.
And it was only the beginning.
Though Anders did take up his father’s suggestion and apply to train as a page, and he applied himself to it as thoroughly as he had his education for lordship, the complete disappearance of his motivation and enthusiasm could not have been missed. While previously he’d brightened every time one of his tutors praised him for making high marks, when the page instructors complimented him he only bowed politely, his face an unreadable mask.
The earnest, eager child was slowly but surely fading away. In his place was a withdrawn, unhappy boy. He held all of his thoughts and emotions tight to his chest, rarely speaking except when it was demanded of him. Though he was still mostly polite with Filipe, eventually Anders gave up trying to play with him. It was too hard, being around the brother who was a constant reminder of his failure.
By the time Anders was twelve, it had become clear that their youngest brother Dimitri was also ungifted magically. Olander was disappointed, but he hid it much better than he had with Anders- Dimitri was not the heir, so it wasn’t such a big loss if he had no mage gift. It was a shame, but not an insurmountable one. Unfortunately, his obvious lack of concern for the matter only reinforced the frustration that was stewing inside of Anders. Of course Olander didn’t care if Dimitri wasn’t a mage. He had Filipe, his chosen one, and that was all he needed.
Things finally came to a head one morning when the family was sharing breakfast. Filipe, eight years old to Anders’ thirteen by that point, was asked to pass their mother a plate of biscuits from further down the table- she was pregnant again, and had to eat lightly to avoid getting sick. Instead of passing it along, the young boy pulled out his training wand and carefully hovered it down the table, setting it down gently in front of their father. Olander beamed at his son, clapping boisterously.
“Well done, boy, well done!” he boomed. “Well make a fine mage of you yet!”
“Thank you, Father,” Filipe replied eagerly, beaming at the praise. Further down the table, Anders felt his hands tighten into fists, and his eyes began to sting. Without a word he stood, bowing mechanically to his father before fleeing the dining hall. Olander called after him, startled, but Anders ignored him. Only when he was clear of the door and out of sight did he bolt, running down the halls of the family’s manor and out into the courtyard.
“Why, why, why, why?” he snarled, holding on to his arms so that his nails dug into the skin.
“Anders?” a soft voice called, and he spun around to see that Filipe had followed him. “What happened? Why did you leave so suddenly? Mother and Father are worried.”
“I’m fine, go back to breakfast,” Anders snapped. His brother flinched, but took a step forwards.
“Is it because of the magic?” he asked softly. “I’m sorry, Andy, that was stupid of me. I should have remembered you don’t like it.”
“It’s not the magic, okay?” Anders choked. “Just go back and eat.”
“But Andy…”
“Shut up!” the older brother snarled. “Leave me alone! I tried for so long to get Father to be proud of me, to tell me I was a good son and a good heir and to make him mean it! And he never did! He threw me away as soon as he had a choice for his heir that did have magic. All my effort, and all you have to do to make him proud of you is wave a freaking stick.”
“B-but… but I…” Filipe stammered, his pale blue eyes glittering. Anders hitched up his shoulders, glaring bullets at his younger brother.
“Don’t you dare start crying! I’m tired of this, tired of always being the bad guy, the one who’s not good enough, the one who’s wrong! I gave up everything so I could be a good lord one day, I never played or had fun, I just worked and worked... and you get to be lord because you can make food fly across the room without touching it.”
“Anders, I’m sorry,” the younger child sobbed. “I’d have father make you the heir if I could. But, but it’s gotta be me, it’s for the good of the region.”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it all before,” Anders replied sullenly. “Please, just go away. I don’t want to talk to anybody right now.”
“Please Anders, don’t be mad at me,” Filipe begged.
“Go away.”
“Anders-”
“I said go away!” Anders bellowed, giving his brother a shove that sent the younger child sprawling. “What part of that do you not get? Do I need to spell it out? I hate you! You ruined my life, you took father’s pride, you stole my title, and now you won’t leave me alone! Just stay away from me!”
Without waiting for a reaction, Anders turned and ran again. He was punished later, forced to stay in his room except to go to lessons and spend a week on bread and water rations, but the damage was done. That fragile lid he’d kept on his frustrations had been blasted off, and whatever semblance there had been left of the eager to please little boy he’d been was entirely erased. Bitter, angry, and prone to lashing out at the slightest provocation, Anders quickly lost all respect and sympathy he’d had from the inhabitants of the manor. Only his military instructors still liked him, because his newfound angry streak made him much more energetic in combat and his physical training was one of the few positive outlets he had for his frustrations.
With Velvet distracted caring for the new baby and Filipe thoroughly cowed by his brother’s anger, there was no one to play the mediator between Anders and his father. This only made matters worse, as the now teenage nobleman frequently got into explosive shouting matches with Olander over the most inane of subjects. Olander couldn’t have been more disappointed to see the child who showed such promise become a sullen brat, but when he expressed as much Anders was quick to remind him whose fault it was that the young man had turned out this way.
The only member of his family he still got along with was Dimitri- his youngest brother, who was also a nonmage. Dimitri understood Anders' frustrations, and for his part Anders found himself oddly drawn to the small boy's childish good cheer. It reminded the eldest Escalus son of how he used to be, and for the fleeting moments he spent playing with Dimitri or helping him at his lessons, he felt almost normal again.
When he was fifteen, Anders was promoted from page to squire, and taken under the wing of a knight master. Though he still lived with his parents, now that he was a squire he occasionally went out on long assignments with his master to see to crisis afflicting the lands. These weeks he spent away from Heleos, he actually managed to calm down a great deal, becoming much more like his old self than he'd been in years. The difference in his personality when he was in Heleos and when he left the city for any extended period of time was so marked that his knight master finally confronted him about it- and offered him a solution to the seemingly impossible snarl that his life had become. A simple one, but one from which there would be no turning back.
Leave Heleos, and become a knight with House Jade.
It was so simple, so elegant... any Corvid could become a knight for the Jades if he could make the trip to Solis. The more he thought about it, the more enamoured Anders became with the idea. To never have to face his father's scorn again, or be constantly reminded of his inadequacy when he caught sight of Filipe practicing his magic. Maybe he could even go a step further, and become one of the Jade family's phoenix riding fireknights- then he'd command a beast that was a match for most human mages, even if he was no mage himself.
But in order to apply with House Jade, he had to first relinquish his ties to House Escalus and ask Lord Everett to formally dissolve his allegiance to his birth house. Olander would never grant his son permission for such a thing, and lose the promise his eldest son had shown as a warrior. But if Anders went behind his father's back to do it, he'd never be forgiven. He would be exiling himself from Heleos forever, never to see his mother or Dimitri unless they came to him, and not getting to see his new baby sister grow up...
Yet, after yet another violent shouting match with Olander, Anders realized that he had little choice. If he stayed in Heleos, his own bitterness would destroy him. He was miserable here. More than anything, Anders wanted to be able to live by his own terms, and be recognized for his own merit- not the eternally unblessed second-best.
So it really was no choice at all.
* * * * *
“Do you really gotta go, Anders?”
The sixteen year old boy looked down from his horse to his nine year old brother, giving him a wan smile. “Yes, I really do. I’m sorry Dimitri.”
“But I don’t want you to go!” Dimitri objected, tugging on Anders’ tunic. “Please, don’t leave me! Filipe is always busy with his heir stuff and Heather’s just a baby, I won’t have anybody left!”
Anders knelt down, drawing his brother into a hug. “I know, and believe me, I really am sorry. But you know how bad it’s getting between me and Father now. I just keep getting angrier and angrier, and if I stay here I’m worried what my anger might make me do.”
The small boy buried his face in his older brother’s shirt. “Take me with you?”
“I wish I could,” Anders admitted. “But we both know Father wouldn’t allow it; he's going to be mad as fire when he finds my note and realizes I've gone. If I took you too he'd surely come after me to get you back. Besides, I’m going to be training as a fireknight. I won’t have time to help take care of you or give you lessons.”
Dimitri was silent for a time, refusing to let his brother go. Finally, he sighed, backing away. “You would have been a good lord, Anders. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, little brother,” Anders replied, standing up and mounting his horse. “Good luck- and take care of Filipe. I hate him for the way he ruined my life, but... he’s still our brother. Father’s decisions aren’t really his fault.”
Dimitri looked surprised at this, but he nodded. He reached up, and Anders took his brother’s hand, giving it a final squeeze. Softly, the younger boy said, “Good luck.”
Anders smiled gently, anguish and frustration warring within him. He still couldn’t quite believe it had come to this. That he was really leaving for good. But he had no choice- not if he wanted to have any chance at a real, fulfilled life free of Filipe’s shadow.
“Thank you, Dimitri. Goodbye.”
Anders released his brother’s hand, and kicked his horse into a gallop. He didn’t once look back.
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Post by Shinko on Jan 30, 2015 23:26:54 GMT -5
So we in the Corvus Worldbuilding thread have been plotting hard, and working almost nonstop all week- and now we present to you the fruit of our labors. The following story will be posted in six parts, one each day. So sit back and enjoy everybody! This story as a whole is the collaborative effort of Shinko, PFA, and Tiger. Part one is a collab between myself and PFA. Dominion - Part One Sometimes, Olander Escalus wished he could have done without having children.
“I simply don’t understand it, Father,” growled his daughter Heather, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. The twenty year old noblewoman had grown into the near image of her late mother Velvet, beautiful and curvaceous. She had silky red-blonde hair, a cleft chin, and a slight splashing of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Only her eyes ruined the image- she had inherited her father’s dark, stormy grey eyes. For some her muscular build from training as a war mage at the Iphicles Institute might have been a turn-off, but if one didn’t mind athleticism rather than classical slender beauty, she was a gorgeous woman.
Sadly, that beauty was marred somewhat by the scowl set on her face as she turned towards Olander. One hand was clenched on the hilt of a sword at her waist, so tightly her knuckles were white.
“I’ve heard the story a thousand times over,” she said. “Of your first son, the one who was originally supposed to be heir. Anders. He wasn’t a mage, so you disinherited him and made Fillipe the heir instead because you needed someone who could continue the tradition of the Escalus war mages. At the time Filipe was all you had- so when he turned out to be a mediocre mage, you settled.”
Heather folded her arms. “But you have a choice now- me. I’m in the top ten percent of my class in all of my magic studies at the Iphicles Institute, and I’ve twice the backbone of that shy, sad little recluse I’m supposed to call a big brother! I’d be a far better ruler for our estate!”
“Heather,” Olander said with exaggerated patience, “We’ve had this conversation before, and my answer has not changed since then- no. Heather, you are a brilliant mage, but you are not a leader.”
“Neither is Filipe!”
Olander could feel a headache building up in his temples- from dehydration no doubt. These days it seemed like no matter how much water or juice he drank, he was always dizzyingly thirsty. He’d been losing a frightening amount of weight, but perversely eating more just seemed to make it worse. The lord had lost all sensation in his lower legs and feet, and was starting to feel an aching numbness growing from his fingers. Several times more recently he’d even had frightening episodes of paleness, sweating, and confusion that more often than not culminated in his blacking out entirely. Olander’s healers told him that it was a problem that just happened sometimes with older people, and there really wasn’t any cure for it. In spite of everything they did to try and alleviate the symptoms, the lord continued losing weight, continued to be constantly dehydrated, and the fainting spells became more and more frequent.
The Woo is calling me home… Ah feathered lord, I hope your wisdom sees further than mine, because from the look of things I will be leaving behind an estate on the brink of civil war.
“Your brother is twenty-eight years old,” Olander retorted. “He has been training to run Heleos since he was four, and has been doing much of the legwork on his own recently as my illness worsens. You have received no such instruction, and I’ve not the time left in this world to give it to you. Magecraft is important, but experience and training matters just as much. Besides, the magic issue is addressed.”
“Oh yes, by marrying him to a peasant from the Institute!” Heather retorted waspishly.
“Annabelle has already given him two magically gifted daughters,” Olander pointed out. “If that is how things must be so that we may fulfill our duty to the crown, then I will accept it. And so will you. Please leave me, Heather. Even where I inclined to change my mind, it is far too late to do so now.”
More softly, the dying nobleman added, “And after everything Filipe has endured and sacrificed for the sake of living up to his position, it would be cruel beyond thinking to deprive him of it now. I shall not have another Anders on my hands.”
The young woman scowled, clenching her hands into fists. Then she relaxed, and shook her head. “Very well, Father. If that is your wish, I shall lay this topic to rest. I see that as ever you fail to recognize and reward those of true talent.”
Olander recoiled as if he’d been slapped. However, Heather didn’t give him time to reply. Instead she bowed, and left the room, not bothering to shut the door before she stalked off down the hall.
True to her word, she didn’t bring up the subject of House Escalus’ legacy again. But Heather was Olander and Velvet’s youngest child, their baby. She was very used to getting her own way. This wasn’t over- it was only the beginning.
* * * * *
Filipe Escalus stood with his hands clasped behind his back, facing the gates of the Iphicles Institute. He hadn’t been back here very often since his graduation six years ago, but of course he was obligated as his father’s heir and representative to attend to certain diplomatic niceties as Olander’s health declined. The arrival of House Oberon’s heir to the city was certainly an event that was due some formal recognition.
Like House Escalus, House Oberon was one of Corvus’ defenders along the Courdonian border. It wasn’t uncommon for mage-children born to that family to train in Heleos’ illustrious military magic school. In spite of their relatively small tract of land, Oberon was an influential house politically. Lord Everett’s first wife, Lady Cassandra, had been of House Oberon. Though she had died without leaving him any living heirs, the ruler of Corvus still looked favorably upon his first wife’s family. This favor afforded them respect they might otherwise have lacked in their small, isolated peninsula of Corvid land squashed between Elacs and Courdon.
Filipe gave the hem of his orange sleeve a tug, and straightened his royal blue tunic. Blue and orange were the house colors of Escalus, so hopefully despite Filipe’s slight stature the young mage of Oberon would know who the man welcoming him was.
Finally, the gate opened and a carriage in the Oberon colors of blue and white pulled up to the front of the school. Filipe clasped his hands together, smiling politely in readiness to welcome their guest.
The carriage pulled to a stop, and out climbed their esteemed guest—a young man with light blond hair, and sky blue eyes to match his tunic. He took a quick look around the immediate area, admiring the beautiful scenery the school had to offer, before turning his attention to Filipe with a smile.
“You must be Lord Filipe, I assume?” he asked.
Filipe smiled and nodded, holding out a hand to the younger nobleman, who shook it. “You have me rightly. And you must be Lord Cyril- welcome to Heleos. My father, Lord Olander, sends his deepest apologies that he could not be here to greet you in person. Unfortunately his health has been in decline as of late, and his trips outside the manor must be kept to a minimum. But I shall do my utmost to make you feel at home in our fair city in his stead.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” Cyril replied. “But thank you for the warm welcome.”
Filipe smiled and nodded, then turned to wave off the coachmen before leading Cyril up into the school. “I trust your journey went smoothly?”
“Smoothly enough, I suppose,” Cyril said with a slight chuckle. “The roads are a bit slick from all this rain we’ve been having, but nothing our coachers couldn’t handle.”
“Ah, I know what you mean,” Filipe said ruefully. “It seems every other day now we have to send crews out to fill potholes that have been washed out by the storms. But I’m glad to hear that you made it without too much trouble.”
As they walked into the building, they were greeted with high, vaulted ceilings and ornately carved images of ancient battles on the walls. Students filled the entrance hall, occasionally stopping to nod or bow politely to the two nobles before scurrying off to wherever they were headed. Cyril looked around at the room with a pleased smile, admiring the beautiful intricacies of the architecture.
“I love the detail on those carvings,” he remarked. “Early revivalist era, I’m guessing?”
Fillipe blinked, glancing at Cyril with surprise. “Indeed- the school was constructed during a time when that style was just coming into fashion, and over the years we have done our best to maintain the original artworks. It is expensive to upkeep, but worth it to preserve the history. I take it you have an interest in such things then?”
“Oh, yes, it’s a bit of a hobby of mine, I suppose,” Cyril admitted with a small laugh. “I’ve always been fascinated with history, especially historical architecture. It’s really quite beautiful.”
“I’d say it’s a useful area of expertise for a Corvid lord to have,” Filipe replied. “After all, it is our duty to see to it that Kyth does not forget it’s storied history and the cultural values upon which it was founded. Or so my father always told me,” the nobleman added with a slight smile.
“Haha, yes, I suppose so,” Cyril agreed.
As they drew towards the far end of the room, someone came into view who was not darting about in a rush as all the other students were, but leaning against one of the support beams along the wall. A strikingly beautiful young woman who resembled Filipe strongly, but with dark grey eyes and red blonde hair instead of blue eyes and pale brown hair.
“Lord Cyril, I’d like to introduce you to my younger sister, Heather Escalus, presently a student at the Institute,” Filipe said, gesturing towards the young woman. As Cyril turned his attention to her, Heather straightened, curtsying to Cyril with a polite, somewhat shy smile on her face. Filipe tilted his head slightly at her, but only said, “I will be assigning her to you as a guide for the duration of your stay. Heather, this is Lord Cyril Oberon. I’d like you to show him around the school, answer any questions he might have, and help familiarize him with Heleos in general.”
“Of course, Lord Brother,” she said with a slight smirk, and Filipe suppressed a sigh. He hated when she called him that. Turning her attention back to Cyril, Heather went on, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord. I hope I can be of help to you as you are settling in.”
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure meeting you, too,” Cyril replied, smiling. “And I’m grateful for your help.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Heather replied, smiling in return. “I hope that you may tell me of Astralogos at the same time, if it is not too much of an imposition. As the youngest of my siblings I have seldom had the opportunity to travel much. I know Heleos like the back of my hand though, so with any luck I won’t get you too lost.” She winked, inviting him to share the joke.
“Haha, yes.” Cyril gave a small, slightly forced laugh. “Don’t worry, I trust you’ll do well. And I’d be happy to indulge your curiosity on Astralogos sometime if you like, as well.”
“Well then, I leave you in my sister’s capable hands,” Filipe said briskly. “I would stay longer, but I’m afraid there is much to be done back at the manor, and as Father’s illness worsens my own workload only increases. But should you need anything, Lord Cyril, simply tell Heather and she will pass it along to me.”
Cyril nodded. “Of course. Thank you for your help.”
As Filipe turned to leave, Heather coughed, blushing a little. “Forgive me, Filipe always makes me a little nervous. He’s my brother, but he’s so much older than I am that I’m never sure what I should say around him- to address him as the future lord, or as a sibling.” She shook her head. “Neither he nor Father have never trusted me with something of this nature before, so I want to do well. I guess I got a little over eager.”
“No, it’s quite fine. I understand,” Cyril replied. “And don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
“Thank you, Lord Cyril,” Heather replied with a smile. “I suppose we should go to the dean and get your assignment for a dormitory room. Normally the students share one with other students of the same gender and around the same age, but since you’re a noble you’ll get your own.”
She turned, gesturing for the young man to follow her, and began to walk down a side hall of the building. “So I understand you’re only with us for one semester? What class is it you’re interested in?”
“Oh, er, Triage Healing,” Cyril told her, following her down the hall. “I’ve been learning healing magic and I’d like to know how to best apply it.”
“Ah, that’s a very good class,” Heather said. “I had it two semesters ago. It’s very informative, and the instructor is a nice enough fellow. Just pay very close attention to the rune chaining, it’s extremely precise to minimize the use of magic for a given spell.” She glanced at him curiously. “So do you work as a healer often, or have you just been learning it in case you need it?”
“Well, thankfully I haven’t needed it too much.” Cyril laughed amicably. “But I have used it on occasion. And maybe after this class, I can help in triage if I need to.”
Heather nodded. “Though traditionally House Escalus always trains their mage-children in war magic, it’s generally not safe or practical for us- the heir especially- to be on the frontlines. But triage seems a good compromise, to help in a meaningful way without putting yourself in unnecessary danger.” She smiled. “I hope that the Institute can give you what you’re looking for, Lord Cyril.”
“Thank you.” Cyril smiled back at her. “I hope so too.”
Heather stopped at one of the doors along the hallway, and gestured to it. “The dean’s office is through here- you can go in and talk to him, I’ll wait out here until you’re finished.”
Cyril nodded. “Alright, thank you.”
As Heather watched Cyril enter the room, she leaned back against the wall with a smile, fingering the handle of her magic wand. When Filipe had first approached Heather about this, she’d not quite dared to believe her luck. Now that she’d met the young nobleman who she was to be the babysitter of, she was even more satisfied. Cyril was polite, as most nobles were, but she could tell that under the neutral diplomatic politeness he was a nice man too- and he seemed right about her age.
If she couldn’t become the legitimate heir to House Escalus, as she deserved to be, then perhaps she could worm her way into the seat of power in another house. And in Cyril Oberon she could see her opportunity to do exactly that.
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Post by PFA on Jan 31, 2015 14:04:38 GMT -5
Dominion - Part Two(content warning for brief animal testing in this part) “You’ve almost got it,” Heather said, pointing to the rune web that Cyril had scribbled in his notes. “But you need to link Bre to Dov here. Otherwise the whole thing is just meaningless garble.”
She flicked her wand demonstratively, and a faint spark of blue light flashed from the tip, partially healing the laceration on the rat they were practicing on. “See? Now you try.”
Cyril nodded, carefully following her suggestions and trying again. Checking one last time to make sure he had everything right, he took a deep breath, then flicked his wand at the rat. He watched carefully as the rat’s wound closed up, smiling to himself.
“There we go,” he remarked triumphantly. With a small laugh, he added, “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this eventually, right?”
“Don’t worry, I struggled at first too,” Heather admitted with a sheepish grin. “The whole point of this class is to re-learn spells you already know, only with much more complicated rune-chains designed to make them use as little magic as possible so that you can heal men on the field assembly-line style without exhausting yourself. It’s a bit mind-melting, all the rote memorization.”
“Haha, yeah,” Cyril agreed. “But you just have to keep at it, I guess.”
It had been two months since Cyril arrived in Heleos, and he’d proved to be every bit as nice as Heather had guessed he was the first day they met. He was friendly, open, and had a boyish bashfulness that most of the people who met him found rather endearing. And no matter what else was going on, he was always eager to enthuse about the intricacies of historical architecture that were his passion. Though Cyril was admittedly a little nervous of Heather at first, the Oberon heir had gradually opened up to her, accepting her as a friend and sometimes tutor. But…
Shaking off the thought before it could fully form, Heather grinned in Cyril’s direction. “So have you thought yet about what historically relevant architectural marvel of Heleos you want to visit for your birthday? It’s only a week off now, time’s ticking.”
“Oh, it is, isn’t it? Time sure flies.” Cyril laughed again, thinking on this. “Ooh, I don’t know… I’ve heard so much about the old Grand Cathedral, but it might be nice to see that old library.”
Heather chuckled, “So much to do, so little time, hm? Well we could always visit the cathedral for your birthday, and then use the library to study instead of doing it here in the dorms. Then you can have your cake and eat it too- and not feel like you’re skiving off on classwork.” She glanced at him sideways and smiled. “I’m supposed to be showing you around after all- wouldn’t be doing a very good job of that if I let you leave feeling like you missed out. Besides, it makes me happy to see you enjoying yourself, my lord.”
“Oh, well, thank you,” Cyril replied, smiling back at her. “Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, by the way. You’ve been a kind friend.”
Heather blushed, looking away with a chuckle. “I’m happy you think so. Between the other students not wanting to associate too closely with me because I’m a noble and my siblings all being so much older, I’ve often been lonely. I appreciate your company a great deal as well, Lord Cyril.”
“Oh?” Cyril blinked, her words slowly registering in his mind. Her demeanor, as well, was unusual… was she flirting with him? His own face turned red at the realization. “I-I mean, I don’t… er… I mean, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but, um…”
Heather looked at the young nobleman, feeling a thrill of triumph that he was finally catching on to her advances- she’d begun to wonder if he was ever going to notice. She coughed, smiling with false shyness. “Are you well, my lord? You look a bit flush.”
“N-no, I’m fine, it’s just…” Cyril coughed awkwardly. “I just hope I haven’t been giving the wrong impression.”
“Oh, I… N-no, of course not!” Heather sputtered, not bothering to conceal the dismay- though it was not for the reason Cyril probably assumed. “I’m sorry, did I… Please, just forget I said anything. I really…” she smiled shakily. “I really do care for you as a friend.”
“Oh! B-but I don’t mean to offend, of course!” Cyril insisted. “I mean, you’re a very lovely lady, I just… I think of you as a friend.” He gave an awkward smile, hoping that didn’t come off too harsh. Then, clearing his throat, he continued. “You know what? Perhaps you’re right. We’d best move on.”
“Yes, of course,” Heather said briskly, smiling as if nothing whatsoever had just happened. Internally, however, she was seething with frustration. She knew she was beautiful, and Cyril admitted she was- why did he panic at the tiniest bit of casual flirting? She didn’t have months and months to woo him- if she didn’t win his affection soon, he would have to leave and return home. Even if she did get him to fall in love with her, if it took too long he’d just dismiss her with fond farewells and reluctant speeches about how his duty had to come first. There wasn’t time for this!
Woo above, what do I have to do to make this work? I just want a position of authority befitting my power, is that too much to ask? I’m a magically gifted Corvid noblewoman, what heir in his right mind would turn me away when magic is fading and we need to do everything in our power to preserve the bloodline? If only there were some way to force him to...
A thought struck her then. A horrible, terrifying, wonderful thought. Here was this sweet, blue-eyed blonde who was stupid enough to turn away the tentative advances of a beautiful, talented noblewoman when politically they would be a fantastic match, and he already liked her as a friend. Maybe someone that stupid didn’t deserve the luxury of having a choice in the matter. She knew from weeks of watching that Cyril was only a weak mage. Like Filipe. Not like her. The strong should not be forced to bow to the whims of the weak.
“So, do you want to get some more practice in?” she asked, smiling with every evidence of cheer in spite of the icy chill that seemed to be spreading through her bloodstream. “It might help you get the hang of the spell if you give it a few more goes.”
“Yes… of course, that would be for the best,” Cyril admitted, still feeling a bit sheepish from earlier, but vowing to put the awkwardness behind them. “Let’s give it a few more tries, than.”
* * * * *
Heather felt her pulse racing a bit, and her nerves were buzzing. This was a huge risk she was taking. A huge, huge risk. By the end of the day either she’d have what she wanted… or she’d be in a cell.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought grimly. She glanced around from where she was standing at the front gate of the Iphicles Institute. It was Cyril’s birthday, and as promised she was waiting to take him to visit the local church. Well one of them, Heleos was a big city and it had several, but this one in particular was the oldest and most ornate.
Finally the door creaked open, and she caught sight of a familiar mop of pale blonde hair. Smiling, she lifted a hand and waved it to catch his attention. “Lord Cyril! Over here!”
Cyril looked in the direction of her voice, smiling when he spotted her. He walked briskly over to join her. “There you are,” he said. “Are we ready to go?”
“More than,” she said cheerfully. “I know you’re going to enjoy this, if the building is beautiful on the outside it’s even more stunning on the inside.”
She turned, gesturing for him to follow, and led the way through the crowded streets of Heleos. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken him out into the city, but this was the furthest afield they’d been so far. Most of the churches were built a good distance from the Institute; something about not wanting sacred ground to be so close to a place for learning the art of war.
Eventually, however, they arrived at the church that Cyril had asked to see. Almost the entire front wall of it was taken up with huge stained glass windows, depicting scenes from the Books of the Woo. Spired towers of whitewashed brick reached towards the clouds, and the roof tiles had been arranged in such a way to sweep backwards like the wings of a giant bird.
“Wow! Look at this, this is gorgeous!” Cyril exclaimed, gazing up in awe at the building. He laughed happily, taking a few steps closer. “I’ve heard about these windows; the glazier who made these was particularly famous, you know. He did a lot of great work, and would later go on to make the windows for the Grand Woo Cathedral in Medieville. Oh, and look at these towers!”
Heather laughed, letting Cyril talk about the building and making interested noises in the right places. At length she grinned, quirking an eyebrow at him impishly. “Do you want to actually go inside at any point, my lord?”
“Oh! Uh, yes, of course,” Cyril replied sheepishly.
Heather led the way into the church, bowing politely to the priests inside as she passed them. The interior was every bit as impressive as the outside, with long polished pews of gleaming cypress, and tiled mosaics all along the floors, walls, and across the domed ceilings. The light shining in from the stained glass bounced off the immaculately maintained mosaic tiles, making them glow in a rainbow of colors.
“Look at the details on these mosaics,” Cyril breathed, trying to be quiet and respectful in these sacred halls. He waved down one of the priests, gesturing to the pews. “Excuse me, but do you happen to know where they got the wood for these?”
“Oh, I uh…” the priest looked around helplessly, then coughed. “I couldn’t say myself, but perhaps the grand library would have records dating from the construction. You might find the answer there.”
“Oh, well, thank you anyway,” Cyril replied, giving an appreciative nod. “I must say, though, this chapel is very beautiful.”
The priest bowed to the young nobleman, smiling appreciatively. “Thank you, my son. It is not often that we receive such a connoisseur of the arts at our humble church, but your appreciation is most welcome. Feel free to look around as much as you like, so long as you don’t disturb the others should they come to perform the rites.”
“Of course we won’t,” Heather said with a smile. “Perhaps we should burn some incense for the Lord Woo before we leave? We would not wish to seem impudent by coming onto His holy grounds and not paying our respects.”
“Yes, of course,” Cyril agreed. He took another look around the room, admiring the scenery. “Oh, look at the carvings on the pulpit!”
Heather and Cyril spent another two hours exploring every public inch of the chapel, inside and out. The young nobleman’s enthusiasm was boundless, and he reminded Heather very much of a small child who’d been given an exciting new toy. When finally they arrived back at the Institute, it was getting to be later in the afternoon. The sky was tinged orange from the setting sun, and things were relatively quiet in the halls with most of the students studying or enjoying leisure.
"I have one more gift to give you, Lord Cyril," Heather said cheerfully as the two of them entered his dorm room. "It's not as fantastic as a centuries old building, of course, but I'm afraid even House Escalus cannot construct one of those to give away to you on such short notice. Hopefully this will suffice in the meantime."
She pulled out a bottle of white wine, with the stamp that indicated it had been produced in Raylier. Pouring some into a wineglass, she said, "The servants told me that you are fond of pinot grigio?"
“Oh, yes! That’s my favorite,” Cyril replied happily. “Is that for me?”
“Of course it is, silly,” Heather replied with a laugh, picking up the glass and offering it to him. “Happy twenty-first birthday, Lord Cyril.”
He smiled at her, accepting the glass. “It’s been a wonderful day. Thank you for the lovely gift, Lady Heather.”
And then, he pressed the cup to his lips and took a drink. Heather felt every muscle in her body tighten, though she tried not to show it outwardly. A thousand thoughts flitted through her head in that moment. Would it work? The mixture was a very complex one, what if she hadn’t brewed it properly? I required a very precise amount of ingredients stirred exactly so many times and allowed to stew for so many hours… everything was riding on this.
“I’m happy to have made you happy,” she said softly, trying not to stare at him as she waited to see what would happen.
His immediate response seemed no different than usual, lowering the cup and looking down at it curiously. “This is an interesting blend. Is this from Raylier?”
Heather laughed, though it was more to try and dispel some of her own tension than from any real amusement at the question. Was it working? How long should she wait?
“Yes it’s from Raylier,” she answered in the meantime. “They’ve apparently been doing some experimentation recently with different flavors. There’s a new red out as well. Though I personally am not much fond of wine I understand it’s very good.”
“I see. Well, it’s not bad,” Cyril admitted, taking another sip. There was a brief pause, and then, “Thank you again for getting this for me. And for everything.”
Cheated frustration was beginning to well up in Heather’s mind again, but she did her best to ignore it. “Of course. That’s what friends are for, isn't it?”
“I mean it. This has been an excellent birthday, and you’ve been nothing but kind to me,” Cyril continued. “And not just today—you’ve been so helpful to me this entire semester, and I’m very grateful. And…” He trailed off, looking at her thoughtfully. “...Have I ever told you how lovely your eyes are?”
The startled look that Heather gave Cyril in that moment was entirely genuine. And the smile that split her face immediately after it was also genuine- but for all the wrong reasons.
“You tease me, my lord,” she replied coyly. “But thank you, all the same.”
“No, but they really are. It reminds me of… smooth marble,” Cyril said. If he’d noticed at all that his thoughts were becoming suddenly more jumbled, he might have dismissed it as being the alcohol. “And your hair is a beautiful shade of gold.”
Heather felt a thrill of triumph surge through her. It was working. It was actually working. Determined not to mess things up now by appearing too eager and setting off his suspicions, she smiled sadly and shook her head. “You flatter me. I appreciate it, but it’s not fair to flatter a girl you’ve already rejected. It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend.”
“You know what? Maybe… maybe I spoke too soon,” Cyril replied. “Maybe we can be more than just friends?”
The young noblewoman made no effort to conceal her glee at that inquiry. She stepped towards Cyril, slowly, as if hesitant. “My lord, are… are you certain? I do care for you, I really do, but I only want you to be happy.”
“I think… I think it would make me happy,” he told her. “Lady Heather, I think I love you.”
The young noblewoman could have danced for joy. But instead she walked the rest of the distance between herself and the heir to House Oberon, and leaned into his chest. “Then please, just call me Heather.”
Cyril smiled warmly, wrapping his arms around her. “Of course, Heather.”
Heather smiled as Cyril’s arms closed around her. The love potion she’d slipped into the wine had worked perfectly. Finally, this man was hers. And one day his lands would be too.
“I love you too, Cyril.”
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Post by Shinko on Feb 1, 2015 12:02:12 GMT -5
Dominion - Part ThreeOver the course of the next few weeks, word shot around first the Iphicles Institute, then all of Heleos that Cyril Oberon and Heather Escalus were courting. It wasn’t a hard rumor to confirm: more or less any time they weren’t in class or tending to other obligations that they couldn’t ignore, the two of them were together. The longer it went on, the more they could be heard speaking to each other with honeyed words that would make even a professional playwright gag. They were constantly in physical contact with one another when they were in proximity. Sometimes they just held each other’s hands, but more often than not Cyril’s arm was clinging tight around Heather’s shoulders.
Poor Cyril was completely unaware of what was happening to him, but as time went on, he lost more and more control of his own mind. He was already so enraptured by his sweet Heather after that first day that it had proved laughably easy for Heather to continue dosing him with the potions, to ensure the effects wouldn’t wear off. He was so eager to please her that he accepted whatever she gave him, and obeyed an oddly firm demand that he eat or drink whatever tainted consumable she provided without a jot of suspicion. Before long, so enthralled was he by her that he could hardly focus on anything else, dedicating all this time and attention to his love for Heather.
For her part, Heather couldn’t have been happier. She was the object of her precious heir’s adoration, just as she’d hoped she’d be. When he was affectionate towards her, she reinforced it with adoring words of her own, telling Cyril how much she loved him and how he was the only person in the world who could truly make her happy. As his mind succumbed more and more to the effects of the love potion, Heather gradually began to take complete control over his life, dictating his actions through gentle coaxing that he was all too eager to comply with. For the most part her demands were simple, that he study and continue to work to keep his grades up so that his overzealous affection towards her wouldn’t arouse suspicion. However she knew that with time this practice would pay off in spades- when she was running his estate.
Everything was going absolutely perfectly.
Of course if her father got wind of the rumors he might be suspicious, knowing what he knew of her ambitious nature, but Heather wasn’t concerned about that. Olander had finally been forced to formally hand over lordship of Heleos and its territories to Filipe, since he was simply too ill to work any longer. The former lord was weak and bedridden, and no one wanted to stress him out by worrying him with silly rumors. As for Filipe, well, Heather didn’t care if he knew. Her older brother was not very well acquainted with his sister’s true nature, having been preoccupied with his studies while she was growing up, and it was unlikely he’d suspect anything more than what appeared at face value. Besides, he’d have to find out anyway eventually for the noblewoman’s plan to really, fully succeed.
But it wasn’t Olander’s heir that came for her that fateful day in mid November. It was the youngest of the Escalus brothers, only five years Heather’s senior; Dimitri.
Heather and Cyril were together as ever, nominally studying out in the courtyard of the Institute although very little actual work was getting done. Cyril insisted instead on showering his love with affection, kissing her hand at every opportunity, and giving her lots and lots of overly flowery compliments.
“Your love is like a ray of sunshine,” he told her. “You are my sun and my moon, my day and my night…”
“I must be a very talented moon, if I can shine with rays of sunlight,” she teased gently, leaning against his shoulder. “But I could not be happier you feel that way, my dear. What is a moon without the earth to shine down upon? Just a pale nothing in the sky.”
“You are not a pale nothing,” Cyril insisted, kissing her hand again. “You are my everything, my sweet.”
However, this quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of hurried hoofbeats, and Heather looked up just in time for a horse to canter into view, bearing her brother on its back.
“Dimitri?” she said, looking up at him with a frown and standing. There was anguish written plain on his face, and it was clear from the dark tracks on his cheeks he’d been weeping.
“Heather, oh Woo, Heather you have to come to the manor!” he said, reaching down and pulling her arm to draw her towards himself. “Please, quickly, we’ve not much-”
He was cut off as he sound of church bells rang out, loud and clear. First one church, then another, then another, and soon all the bells in the city where heralding the news. Heather looked up at Dimitri’s face, and with a strangled sob he nodded.
“It’s Father,” he said, his voice choked. “He’s dead.”
Though she’d been preparing for this to happen, and internally the young noblewoman was already making cool calculations for how to proceed now that it had, to all outward appearances she was as distraught as her brother.
“No… no, no, no,” she moaned, turning to Cyril and pressing her face into his shirt. “It can’t be, he c-can’t be gone...”
“It’s okay, my sweet,” Cyril assured her, wrapping his arm around her consolingly. “I know it’s hard, losing someone you care about, but don’t fret. I’ll always be here for you.”
Heather didn’t reply; she just leaned against him, shaking and sobbing. Dimitri looked towards Cyril, nodding politely to the Oberon and clearing his throat.
“Please I… I have to go back, but look after her? And bring her back once she’s ready.”
Cyril nodded. “Of course. Whenever you’re ready, Heather, my sweet.”
Dimitri took a deep, ragged breath, then turned his horse away. His departure was at a far more sedate pace than his arrival- no doubt he’d been trying to find his sister before their father actually passed, so that she could be present for it. Now there was little reason to hurry.
Once he was out of sight and out of earshot, Heather looked up at Cyril. Here it was- this was the best opening she was going to get, so she had to make absolutely certain to play it out exactly right.
“What am I going to do?” she asked miserably. “You saw it, Dimitri didn’t even stay here. I barely know my brothers, and Mother passed on years ago- I’ve no one now.”
“It’s alright, Heather,” Cyril assured her. “You know I’ll always be here for you.”
She shook her head, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “But you won’t be, my love. I didn’t… I didn’t want to think about it because there’s nothing that can be done. Yet now I can’t help it. In December the class you’re here for will end, and you’ll go home to Astralogos. I’ll remain here, alone but for the brothers I barely know.”
“No, it will be alright, I promise!” Cyril insisted. “You see, we can talk to my father, and… and then we can get married! And we can be together forever!”
Heather’s heart leapt, and she could have carolled for joy. He’d walked right into her trap, just as she’d hoped he would. She hugged him tightly, looking up into his blue eyes with desperation. “C-Cyril… do you really think we could? What if your family doesn’t approve of me? What if my brother objects?”
“I’m sure they will approve! Why wouldn’t they?” was Cyril’s response. Kissing her hand again, “After all, how can they deny true love?”
Heather laughed softly, her eyes glistening with the tears she’d affected earlier. “Oh, Cyril, Cyril… I love you so much. Only you could turn the worst day of my life into the best- Oh Cyril!”
She leaned upwards, pressing her lips against his- something that until that point they had not done, out of respect for the etiquette that dictated a noble courtship. Cyril was surprised for a brief moment, but soon eased into it, kissing her back. Before long, he was completely enthralled in it, cherishing every moment.
It was Heather who finally pulled away, looking reluctant. “I… I should go to the manor. I have to see my father, I have to…” she gave a quiet sob, then looked up at Cyril imploringly. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Cyril replied, smiling sweetly. “Anything for you, my sweet.”
And so it was. Though at Heather’s insistence they waited until after Lord Olander’s funeral so as not to appear too eager when she was supposed to be mourning, it was only a short while after that Cyril approached Filipe, asking his permission to pay his court to Heather. Though he was surprised by the request, the new lord of Heleos saw no reason to object to it, provided that the Oberons were in agreement. So, once the semester had ended officially, Cyril left Heleos for home with fond farewells to Heather and promises to speak to his father about their engagement straightaway. He also left with a box of jelly filled cakes she had given him, and the adoring instruction that he eat one every day before he went to sleep for the night. To remember her by, of course.
Cyril smiled to himself, lost in thoughts of his darling Heather as he walked through the halls of Oberon Manor. His absence from her consumed him, but it wouldn’t have to last much longer, he thought to himself. Once he got permission from his father, the two of them would be married, and then they could live happily together ever after.
This was the thought going through his mind as he arrived at his father’s office. Lord Achilles Oberon was a busy man, and today was no exception. He was in the middle of working on some important document when Cyril walked in, quickly finishing the sentence before looking up at his son with a smile.
“Ah, Cyril, welcome home,” Achilles said. “I trust your classes went well?”
“They went more than well, father,” Cyril replied eagerly. “In fact, I would even say my time at that school has forever changed my life!”
“Good, good.” Achilles nodded, continuing with his letter. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Cyril smiled broadly, leaning on the desk in hopes of getting his father’s attention. “Father, I met this beautiful woman while I was there. Her name is Heather Escalus.”
This did indeed catch Achilles’ attention, causing him to pause mid-sentence to look up at his son with intrigue. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it’s true. I love her with all my heart, father.” Cyril paused, taking a deep breath. Here it goes. “I want to marry her.”
Achilles was stunned by this revelation. Of all the things he was expecting to happen to his son at that school, finding a wife was not one that he had considered. An Escalus, though… so at least it was a noble. And a powerful one, too, from what he remembered of Lord Olander’s family.
Had he given the unusual convenience of the situation more thought, he might have been suspicious. But instead, he gave a pleased smile. “You really do love her, then?”
“She’s my everything, father,” Cyril repeated. “I want to spend my life with her.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear you’ve courted such a good match for you,” Achilles said. “You have my blessing.”
Cyril could have exploded with joy at the words. His father approved! And now he could get married to the love of his life, his one and only! He had just enough presence of mind to give a respectful bow to his father. “Thank you so much! I’ll tell her as soon as possible! Oh, wondrous joy!”
Achilles chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Ah, young love. “You do that, then. I have to get back to work.”
“Of course, of course.” Cyril nodded vigorously, practically dancing out of the room. He was going to be married! Oh, Heather was going to be so happy!
A letter arrived in Heleos as fast as carrier birds could fly, and within a week a carriage had arrived in Astralogos, Heather and Dimitri Escalus emerging from within. The entire trip east Heather was tense with nerves. What if the Oberons figured out something was wrong with Cyril? What if he forgot to eat his daily cake and didn’t get the dose of potion? There was so much that could potentially go wrong…
“Heather! My sweet, sweet Heather!” came Cyril’s voice as she arrived. He immediately ran up to greet her with a loving embrace, dispelling all doubt that he had been keeping up his daily dose of potion cakes. “It’s so good to see you, I’ve missed you so much!”
The young noblewoman was startled, but she laughed breathlessly, hugging Cyril in reply. “I missed you as well, my love. When I got your letter I thought I would die with happiness then and there.”
Dimitri smiled indulgently at Cyril and Heather, before clearing his throat and turning to look for the lord of Astralogos. He soon spotted him, trailing behind the overeager Cyril. With a polite smile, Dimitri held out a hand to the man to shake.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Oberon. I am Dimitri Escalus, younger brother of Lord Filipe Escalus and elder brother to Lady Heather. My brother sends his deepest regrets that he could not witness this momentous event in person, but he is still dealing with the fallout of our father’s recent passing, and adjusting to the position of lord in Heleos. I have been given full diplomatic accord over the proceedings in his stead.”
“That’s quite alright. I’m glad you could make it safely,” Lord Achilles replied. Smiling at the happy couple, he added, “And it’s good to meet the woman my son has been raving about since he got home.”
Hearing these words, Heather pulled away from Cyril and gave Lord Achilles a polite curtsey. “My lord, I am honored and deeply grateful that you have granted me so rare a privilege- it is not often a noble may marry for love, let alone the heir. But I…” she looked up at Cyril fondly. “I have never known a man more sweet, intelligent, and caring than your son. If I could stand by him as his wife, I would never know greater joy.”
Cyril smiled lovingly back at her, and Lord Achilles chuckled in amusement. “Well, I’m glad you were able to find someone you care about so much, son. I think the two of you will work well together.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Heather said with a bright smile, relief flooding her. The Oberon heir was still firmly in her thrall, and his father suspected nothing. Everything was going according to plan.
Though it took some arranging, a month later Heather and Cyril were married. It was a glorious ceremony, held in the most beautiful cathedral in Astralogos. If anyone had been paying attention, they might have found it odd that for once, Cyril didn’t care about the cathedral, instead completely enraptured by his love for Heather. Heather spent the day showering Cyril with compliments and adoration, high on the fact that she’d finally done it. She was wed to the next lord of House Oberon, and by virtue of her magical hold on his mind, she would be the true power in his region. Not Heather Escalus anymore- Heather Oberon.
After the ceremony was over, Dimitri left to return to Heleos, and Heather settled into life in Astralogos. Whether by sheer dumb luck, or some unlisted side-effect of the potion on Cyril, within five months of her marriage they discovered that she was pregnant. Achilles was pleased by the news, knowing his line would be continued and that he would soon be a grandfather. Cyril, meanwhile, was overjoyed—what better way to symbolize their love for each other than a child they had together? The months passed and Heather’s belly swelled with the child growing inside.
Heather had just finished cajoling Cyril to take his nightly dose of the love potion- concealed in the drizzle of a honey-cake this time- when it started. Her entire body seized with pain, and she tensed, crying out.
A wave of panic went through Cyril, and he immediately put an arm around her to support her. “Heather! Are you alright?”
“I… I think th-the…” she clutched at her gut with a moan. “The baby’s coming, Cyril.”
Cyril’s eyes went wide. “Right… right now?”
Heather scowled, “Yes, now! Please Cyril, it hurts, you have to get the midwife!”
“Th-the… the midwife! Yes!” Cyril nodded, hurrying off to find the midwife. He eventually tracked the woman down, and all but threw himself at her. “Help! She’s having the baby!”
The midwife, who’d been summoned to the manor as Heather’s term was drawing close, only looked to Cyril with grave calmness and nodded. “So the time has come. I’ll go to her then; you wait here, and I’ll send a servant for you once it’s over.”
“What? But… but I want to be with Heather!” Cyril protested.
“I’ve delivered dozens of babies in my lifetime, Lord Cyril,” the midwife replied tartly. “I can look after her. The birthing room is forbidden to men. This is women’s work.”
“But—”
“No, my lord. I know you’re nervous, that’s only natural. But this is something she must do alone. I’m sure you can find some friends who will keep you company.” She turned without another word, and stalked off down the hallway towards Heather and Cyril’s room.
Cyril frowned, watching her walk off and reluctantly staying behind. Anxiety filled his mind as he waited. How long would this take? Would Heather be okay? How long until he would get to hold her in his arms again?
It was late in the evening when Heather’s labor started- it wasn’t until three hours past dawn the following morning when finally a servant trotted up to Cyril, telling him that he could come and see her- and meet his son. Cyril beamed from ear to ear, making haste back to the room.
Sure enough, when he got there, there she was—lying there in the bed, looking completely exhausted, but still as radiant as ever. At least to Cyril’s eyes- her hair was tangled and streaked with sweat, and there were deep rings under her eyes, but he barely noticed. He was simply thrilled to see her alive and well… and with a healthy baby boy in her arms.
“Oh, Heather,” he whispered, rushing to her side and moving to get a closer look at the baby. “He’s beautiful.”
She smiled tiredly, holding the child with a fierce, possessive pride. Here was her son, and Cyril’s. This child of her body would one day be the lord of House Oberon. He was the ultimate symbol of her triumph.
“He is,” she said softly, brushing a finger through the thin covering of pale blonde down on the infant’s head. Turning the baby so that his father could get a better look, she added, “Would you like to hold him?”
Cyril nodded, carefully taking the baby in his arms. He rocked the child gently, a smile creeping across his face. Here he was, his and Heather’s child, and he was beautiful. He gently stroked his son’s face, and the infant’s eyes opened slowly, getting his first glimpse of the world. Cyril smiled down at him.
“He has your eyes,” Cyril remarked. “Your beautiful, marble eyes.”
Heather smiled back at her husband, completely contented. She had her land, her son, and a husband who was blindly obedient to her every whim. The power her father had always dismissed so casually had won her everything she’d ever wanted, and more. Nothing could take that away from her now.
Or so she thought.
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Post by PFA on Feb 2, 2015 13:17:51 GMT -5
Dominion - Part Four“Cousin Cyril is coming to visit?!” Joffery grinned from ear to ear at the news. “I haven’t seen him since my wedding to Hope!”
“Yes, that’s right.” Everett gave a slightly sad, thoughtful smile. Technically speaking, Cyril wasn’t Joffery’s cousin, but his step-cousin—Everett’s nephew through his first wife. Even though none of his children belonged to, or even had the chance to meet Cassandra, they had always enjoyed spending time with her family ever since they were small. It pleased Everett to see them getting along so well.
“He’ll be here on diplomatic business, of course,” Everett continued. “But nonetheless, I expect you to give him a warm welcome.”
“Of course!” Joffery nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, we have so much to catch up on! I hear he’s married now; I can’t wait to meet his wife…”
“I’ll leave you to that, then,” Everett said. “Now, he should be arriving soon. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I assume you can keep him occupied until then.”
“You can count on me, father,” Joffery replied. And with that, the two of them went their separate ways, Everett to take care of some important business, and Joffery to welcome an old friend to Solis.
* * * * *
At the gates of Jade Manor, Joffery smiled, watching as a carriage in House Oberon’s colors pulled up. Though he was eager to see his cousin again, he waited patiently for the carriage to come to a stop, and for Cyril and his new wife to climb out of it. It was then that Joffery walked up to greet them, offering a warm handshake to his cousin.
“Cyril! It’s so good to see you!” Joffery said cheerily.
“Joffery! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Cyril replied. Then, with a smile, he gestured to his wife. “I’d like you to meet my lovely wife, Heather!”
“It’s nice meeting you!” Joffery offered a hand for Heather to shake. “And may I be the first to formally welcome you to Solis.”
“It’s a pleasure, Lord Joffery,” Heather said with a smile, accepting Joffery’s hand with her free one. The other hand was being clenched by a little boy with his father’s pale blonde hair and his mother’s dark grey eyes, not quite two years old yet. He stared up at Joffery with awe.
“Oh, and this must be your son!” Joffery remarked, kneeling down to meet his eye level. “What’s his name, again?”
“This is Priam,” Heather replied, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “Priam, say hello to Lord Joffery.”
The little boy smiled shyly up at Joffery, bowing as best his toddler coordination would allow. “Hullo, Lord Joff-ee.”
“It’s nice meeting you, Priam!” Joffery smiled at the boy, before turning to Cyril. “He really takes after you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but he has Heather’s lovely eyes,” Cyril replied blithely. “My sweet Heather has the most beautiful eyes, you know.”
Heather chuckled. “You’re such a flatterer, my dear. We’re here on business, not a date.” she winked cheerfully to him. “Save it for later.”
Joffery blinked. That exchange seemed rather… strange, but he wasn’t about to question it. Instead he stood up straight, clearing his throat. “Anyway, father had some important business to take care of, but he promises he will be here as soon as he can.” Smiling at Cyril, he added, “In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to take a look around the Manor? We just finished the new library; I think you’ll like it.”
“Okay,” Cyril said with a nod, glancing at Heather. “What do you think, my sweet?”
“That sounds lovely,” Heather said cheerfully. “I look forward to it.”
“Alright then!” Joffery started back toward Jade Manor, beckoning the others to follow. “Come this way, then. As I said, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
Joffery led the way through the Manor, until they finally arrived at the new library. It was stunning—brand new, polished bookshelves which reached all the way up to the ceiling. In the center of the room was a large, golden phoenix statue, resting on top of an intricately carved marble base. The ceiling had also been painted with phoenix designs, but this time with ten different phoenixes, each in different colors to represent the ten different noble Houses of Corvus.
“What do you think?” Joffery said proudly, waving an arm indicatively at the room. “We commissioned some very talented artists to work on this room. I especially love the details on the ceiling, don’t you?”
“Yes, it’s very nice,” Cyril agreed, nodding almost automatically.
Joffery frowned, noticing the unusually vacant expression on his cousin’s face. Didn’t he love architecture? Shouldn’t he be more excited? But before he could ask about it, Cyril’s smile broadened, turning his attention instead to Heather.
“Don’t you think it’s nice, dear?” he asked cheerily.
Heather smiled indulgently at her husband. “Yes, love, it’s wonderful.” Turning to Joffery she added, “I can see a very great deal of work and love has gone into the construction of this library. My Lord Everett must be quite proud of it, as you are.”
Priam glanced around the room, staring up at the golden phoenix statue curiously, though he didn’t venture from his mother’s side, nor had he said a word during the entire exchange.
“Ye… yes, of course,” Joffery muttered, glancing between the three Oberons in concern. Cyril seemed to be completely focussed on his wife, not even paying attention to the things he should be interested in, like the library or even his own son. Joffery was a devoted husband himself, but this was starting to be rather concerning.
Deciding to investigate this further, Joffery cleared his throat, hoping to get Cyril’s attention. “So, Cyril, it seems you’ve found a love match for yourself.”
“Yes! Heather is my one and only,” Cyril replied, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She’s my sun and my moon, my day and my night…”
“I love you too, Cyril,” Heather said, leaning her head up and kissing him on the chin.
“Wow, you… really must love her, then,” Joffery continued, giving a small, awkward laugh. “I mean, you, um… you used to tease me for talking like that, remember?”
“Did I?” Cyril blinked, as if trying to remember this. After a moment, he shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it. “Well, that’s different, because I really, really love my sweet Heather.”
“Ye… yes, and I really love Hope,” Joffery replied. “Cyril, are you—”
Heather cleared her throat, smiling apologetically. “Lord Joffery, I hate to be a bother, but I think Priam might be getting a little bored. Do you know if there’s anything we could do to occupy him? He’s along to meet some of his relatives.”
She gently released Priam’s hand and pushed him forwards a bit. He toddled in the general direction he’d been guided, towards Joffery, holding himself as if he was afraid. Timidly, glancing back at his mother as if to ask permission, he held up his arms to the Jade heir and said softly, “Up, p’ease?”
Joffery frowned, glancing down at the child thoughtfully. Cyril wasn’t acting like himself, Lady Heather interrupted his questioning far too readily, and this poor child seemed too frightened to even talk. What in Woo’s name was going on here?
He decided it wasn’t worth it to pursue it further, at least not at the moment. He smiled affectionately, bending down and hefting up the boy. Carrying him in his arms, Joffery smiled at Priam. “Well, hello there. How are you?”
Priam stared at Joffery’s face, his expression somewhat bewildered. Then, wordlessly, the little boy wrapped his arms around Joffery’s neck and buried his face in the Jade’s shirt collar.
“Aw, Cyril look,” Heather cooed. “I think Priam likes your cousin.”
“Oh, isn’t that sweet?” Cyril agreed, his arm wrapped around Heather’s shoulders as usual.
“Haha, yes,” Joffery replied awkwardly, frowning at the overly happy couple. He’d been a father long enough to know something about children, and this type of behavior was not a good sign… but Cyril and his wife seemed completely oblivious.
This was not right. Something had to be done.
“Hey, Priam, would you like to come with me to see the Manor?” Joffery suggested. “Maybe I can take you to the nursery, where you can meet my family.”
Priam squeezed Joffery’s neck tighter, muttering a scarcely audible. “Okie.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Heather chirped. “There aren’t any kids his own age for him to play with back home, so I’m sure he’d love the experience.”
“Yes! You can meet my own children. I’m sure they’d love to play with you,” Joffery agreed. Turning to Cyril, he added, “You… would you be alright with me taking him?”
“Of course. I trust you to take good care of him,” Cyril replied simply. He then smiled at Heather again, stroking her hair affectionately. “We can wait here.”
“Alright.” Joffery smiled, but inwardly, he was concerned. That Priam’s parents would be so willing to part with their own son so casually was more than a little worrying. Nonetheless, he took Priam with him out of the room, leaving the two lovebirds to themselves.
Joffery knew he needed to talk to someone. First, he wanted a second opinion to be certain that he wasn’t just imagining things… and if he wasn’t, he needed to find out what was going on, so that maybe he could do something to fix it. He said he would take Priam to the nursery, and last he remembered, Hope was there with the children, so he’d determined that he was going to ask her about it.
However, before he got there, a voice distracted him—his father’s.
“Joffery?” Everett asked, coming up from behind Joffery. “What are you doing here? Where is Cyril?”
“Father! I… I’m afraid that’s kind of the problem,” Joffery admitted.
Everett frowned. That didn’t sound good. “...What do you mean?”
The unfamiliar voice caught Priam’s attention, and he glanced up from Joffery’s neck towards Everett. His expression was fearful, and he hugged his cousin still more tightly, making a soft whimpering noise of distress. Noticing this, Everett’s frown deepened. What was going on?
“Well, Cyril is in the library with his wife, but…” Joffery took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “...He was acting strangely.”
“How so?” Everett asked.
“It was like… like he couldn’t focus on anything but his wife,” Joffery explained. “Not the architecture in the library—he loves architecture, you know—and not his own son, either.” He frowned, indicating the nervous child in his arms. “I love Hope, but I wouldn’t ignore my children for her, you know?”
“That… is definitely not good,” Everett said, his expression becoming more and more grim. “You said he’s in the library? I think I’d like to see this for myself.”
“Yes. With his wife,” Joffery affirmed. Indicating Priam again, he added, “I was going to take him to the nursery, so…”
“Yes, that might be wise,” Everett agreed. “You can do that—I’ll tend to Cyril and his wife.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
As Joffery continued on his way to the nursery, Everett frowned, thinking on this. What Joffery had described of Cyril’s behavior didn’t sound… natural, quite honestly. To be so enthralled by someone so as to neglect all his other responsibilities screamed of magic to him, and if it was true, whoever was responsible would be in serious trouble.
Thankfully, when it came to matters of magical manipulation, there was one person he knew he could turn to… and conveniently, he hadn’t returned to Medieville yet.
* * * * *
“Well done, Asher!” Leif praised as the lanner falcon landed on his glove. “Just as quick as I remember!” He pulled a bit of meat from the pouch on his belt and let the falcon pluck it from between his fingers. “And you’re as quick an eater, too, I see. That’s my boy, don’t let age slow you down, hm?”
The falcon finished the meat and looked around, probably already eager to get back into the air. Leif kept a firm hold on the lanner falcon’s jesses, even as he looked around, too. He missed the mews of Solis, and the birds who lived here. In Leif’s opinion, he’d done a decent job making a home for his little flock of raptors back in Medieville, but the Lord of Corvus was always going to have more resources at his disposal. At least Leif was able to visit the birds when he came back.
Of course, he wasn’t really here to see the raptors - this was the first time since Leif had arrived that he had actually been free to come down to the mews and visit his old feathered friends. The past few days had been jam-packed as he helped his younger sister Chamile settle into Solis, Jade Manor, and her recent marriage to Lord Reynold, and tried to contact some of his old tutors to give her extra magic lessons. Chamile was a good mage already - as was her twin brother Jonathon, who would be starting his seminarian duties in a Solis church in just a few weeks - but she wanted to be even better, and it was harder to find more highly-qualified instructors than those who had taught an archmage to control his freshly-released and wild full power.
He turned to head back toward the mews - eager or not, Asher needed a break. But before Leif could even consider which raptor he was going to visit next, he spotted an unexpected person at the mews door. “...Lord Everett?”
“Master Leif. I’m afraid we may have something of a situation on our hands,” Everett told him, wasting no time to get to the point. “My nephew is here, and I’m afraid someone may have been using magic on him.”
Leif blinked - that was not what he’d expected to hear. “Er - all right.” He should really be more used to this by now, considering the number of magical issues he had been dealing with in the past few years. Some of his experience did show in how quickly he decided on what to ask next. “I take it he’s acting strangely?” Leif guessed as he started into the mews to return Asher.
“Yes. Joffery told me he wasn’t acting like himself, focused singularly on his wife,” Everett explained. “Which sounds to me like magical influence may be involved, and I was hoping you could come with me to talk to him and determine if it is.”
Leif nodded, holding out his arm so Asher could step onto a perch. “Of course, Lord Everett. And if he is magically-influenced, I might be able to use a reparifors spell to remove it.” He rather doubted it was going to be that simple.
“Thank you. That would be appreciated.” Everett nodded, leading the way to the library where Cyril and his wife were waiting. “Whatever is happening here, I would like to get to the bottom of it.”
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Post by Tiger on Feb 3, 2015 7:56:00 GMT -5
Dominion - Part FiveOnce Heather was certain that Joffery had truly left, she turned to Cyril with an expression of concern. “Dearest, I… I know he’s your cousin, and a close friend to you, but Lord Joffery’s demeanor unnerves me. He was asking so many questions…”
“I’m sure he means well,” Cyril assured her, kissing her on the cheek. “He just doesn’t understand, that’s all.”
Heather reached up to Cyril’s face, cupping his cheek in her hand. “What if he does understand? What if that’s the problem? He kept comparing you and I to his own relationship with the princess. And he sounded… unhappy. I worry he…” she bit her lip, as if hesitating to say what she was thinking. Then, leaning her head against Cyril’s chest, she whispered, “What if he’s jealous of us?”
“Jealous?” Cyril blinked, thinking on this. “Do you mean… because his love for his wife isn’t as pure as ours?”
“He was courting her sister first,” Heather pointed out. “But after Destiney died, he turned to Hope because she was as close as he could get to his true love. Part of him must ache terribly knowing what could have been, and what is lost to him forever. Our love may remind him of that.”
“Poor Joffery. He may never know love like ours,” Cyril agreed. “What should we do?”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do, dear heart,” Heather said. “We can’t bring Destiney back from the dead. Joffery’s burden is his alone to bear. But… I just worry. What if he-”
She made a noise that might have been interpreted as a sob, and looked up at Cyril’s face imploringly. “What if he thinks to separate us? Jealousy is the downfall of so many great men, what if it blinds him so that he thinks to take revenge on us for his own loss?”
Cyril’s eyes went wide. “Do you really think so?”
“I can’t say for certain,” she admitted, glancing to the side as if in doubt. “I wouldn’t want to assume things of an innocent man. But I also don’t want to be caught off guard. I know the Jades are powerful, and we have no authority to defy them, but please promise me something.” She stretched up, kissing him gently on the lips, and the she whispered, “If the Jades should try to part us, please stop them. Don’t let them take me away.”
She whimpered, clenching at Cyril’s sleeves, “I love you so much, Cyril, it would kill me to be torn from your side. Please, please, if my fears prove right, you must protect me!”
“Of course, my sweet,” Cyril replied, holding her in his arms. “Anything for you.”
The two of them continued to wait in the library for Joffery’s return, exchanging some sickly sweet words as the time continued to pass. Finally, the doors swung open again, but it wasn’t Joffery this time—instead, Lord Everett himself strode into the hallway, with a blond man in Jade colors trailing behind him. Heather felt a flicker of unease as her eyes were drawn to the wand holster at the blonde man’s hip- so the lord had brought magical backup. They were suspicious.
“Hello, Cyril,” Everett said, starting off pleasantly enough. “It’s good to see you made it here safely.”
“Uncle Everett! It’s good to see you, too.” Cyril bowed respectfully to the Jade lord, then turned his attention to the other Jade. “And you are…?”
Leif bowed politely, though he kept his head up enough to watch the man and his wife carefully. “Leif Jade; I was adopted into the House several years ago.” Polite conversation was still far from easy for Leif, but knowing he needed to pry a little to see what kind of strange behavior Everett’s nephew might be showing, he went on, “Lord Everett tells me you’re here from Astralogos?”
“We are,” Heather put in cheerfully, bowing to both of the men in her turn. “My lords, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Heather Oberon.”
“I’ve heard much about you. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Everett told her. He then turned to Cyril, a pleasant smile on his face, but with questioning eyes. “I assume you’ve been enjoying the library while you were waiting?”
“I, um… yes, of course,” Cyril replied, nodding as if on cue. Everett took note of this response immediately—he seemed unusually unsure of himself, which was already telling of something being amiss.
Heather put a hand on Cyril’s arm, smiling to Everett. “He loves the ceiling murals in particular- though we were joking that it’s a shame the blue and orange Escalus phoenix is so far away from the blue and white Oberon one.”
“Ah, yes!” Cyril agreed, giving a small laugh. “Because Heather and I are so close.”
“Yes, well, they’re arranged relative to the Houses’ respective locations in Corvus,” Everett pointed out. “Heleos and Astralogos are on opposite ends of the region.”
“Oh! ...That makes sense.” Cyril nodded. “Still, it’s a shame. I mean, imagine if they were closer together!”
Everett raised an eyebrow at the remark. “The cities?”
“Yes! Then Heather and I could have met sooner,” Cyril said, putting his arm around Heather again. She laughed, shaking her head like an indulgent mother.
“You’re ridiculous sometimes,” she teased him. Turning to Everett she tilted her head. “I suppose Lord Joffery has decided to abscond with our son a bit longer than? I hope he and the young Jades get along well- as well as my dear Cyril seems to get along with your son. It would be wonderful if relations between our families remained amicable.”
If Leif had been a great horned owl, his ear tufts would have pricked. Their son? So there was a child involved in this, too? That could be very bad, if his father was being influenced by magic. He was less surprised by how quickly Lord Cyril’s wife turned the topic of her son to political advantage. It might just be the way things were among the nobility, but that didn’t mean Leif had to like it. He tried not to scowl too hard.
It was difficult to know for sure what qualified as ‘unusual’ for Lord Cyril when Leif had never met him before. The man did seem...spacey. For the heir to a House, that was rather odd. An heir to an estate who was related to Lord Everett, no less. Granted, Joffery had his moments, but Joffery wasn’t so much vague as he was...carefree. Leif glanced in the Jade patriarch’s direction - Everett seemed concerned; so this man was probably not normally very much like Joffery.
“Yes, so - your son is here, too?” he asked in as casual a tone as he could manage. Maybe drawing them out on that topic would help Leif find the problem. He very much wanted to just pull out his wand and try to detect a spell that way, but Lady Heather’s presence made him uncertain just how good an idea that was. Both she and her husband had wand holsters, and if one of them panicked...it was best not to risk anyone’s safety. Especially not if Lord Everett would be in the potential crossfire.
“Huh? Oh, yes,” Cyril replied. “Joffery took him to the nursery.”
“Yes, I passed him on the way here,” Everett noted. Allowing his concerned demeanor to show through, he continued, “I noticed your son seemed rather agitated. I do hope everything is alright with him.”
“Oh, he’s always been rather skittish,” Heather said, waving her hand. “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it with time, won’t he love?”
“Yes, of course,” Cyril agreed. “He’s just shy, that’s all.”
Leif really shouldn’t have asked - it was going to make it that much harder to concentrate and not give away that he was not exactly here on friendly terms. “Yes. Shy. Maybe one of you ought to have gone with him to the nursery so he would be less nervous.” ...That had probably been far too accusatory. Hastily reining in his tone, Leif amended, “But I suppose, not being a father myself, it isn’t my place to judge.” Leif managed to sound only a touch sarcastic.
He watched Cyril carefully as he spoke, though. Who knew, maybe a veiled...or, slightly-less-than-veiled accusation would get him talking a bit more, so Leif could judge his state of mind more accurately?
“I, um…” Cyril mumbled, seeming at a loss for words. Which would have been a telling gesture in and of itself, but what was even more concerning was when he turned to Heather. “What do you think, dear?”
Heather smoothed her skirts, her expression becoming rather neutral. “We brought Priam along so that he could meet his relatives- we are here on business. If it is agreeable with you both, might we proceed to the matter at hand?”
Everett frowned. This wasn’t the first time that Heather had abruptly changed the subject, and he found the pattern more than a little suspicious. He didn’t want to pry too much, not with her standing there, but… if what Joffery said was true, this was the perfect opportunity to find out.
“Very well,” he said with a nod. “Cyril, why don’t you come with me to the meeting room? But…” He glanced at Heather. “Perhaps it would be best if Lady Heather went with Joffery and your son to the nursery.”
“Wh… what?” Cyril frowned. “But I want to be with Heather.”
“I think it would be best for your son—Priam, is it?—to be with his mother,” Everett explained. With an unusually pointed gaze, he added, “Surely you can stand to be away from your wife for one meeting, can’t you?”
Heather put out a hand, touching Cyril on the arm- so that he could feel her trembling. Cyril clung to her tightly, a scowl appearing on his face.
“I think you’re trying to take her away from me,” Cyril accused.
Everett was taken aback by the response. If that wasn’t unusual, he didn’t know what was. “I… excuse me?”
“Take her from you?” Leif repeated, bewildered. And not just by that particular comment - both Cyril and his wife seemed ridiculously anxious about being separated. If Leif could tell they hated the idea of being apart… Trying to refocus, Leif shook his head and said, “Nobody’s trying to take anyone away - Lord Everett is suggesting your son might prefer to have some familiar company.” His hand drifted slightly to his wand holster. This gesture, though small, was not missed by Heather, who leaned further into Cyril’s arms.
“Please…” she said softly, allowing the faintest of tremors to edge into her voice.
“I think you’re jealous,” Cyril spat. “Because you don’t have a love as pure and real as ours!”
Everett seemed to recoil at the remark, and for the first time since the conversation started, he looked genuinely angry. “That is not true.”
Leif started a little at Everett’s anger - though he could certainly understand it. A love as pure and real as theirs? Very nice implication, Leif thought sourly. “You realize we’re asking her to go a little ways down the hall, Lord Cyril? We’re hardly sending her to another province - we’re not even sending her out of the building.” He was tempted to sarcastically ask if their pure, real love was really so fragile it couldn’t survive being a few rooms apart. It wasn’t as if Leif was falling to pieces even though Kirin was miles and miles away.
Heather put up a hand to Cyril’s shoulder, smiling up at him gently. “Please love, calm down. This won’t gain us anything.” She kissed his cheek gently, whispering in his ear, “I will go- but don’t trust them. Remember my love, always, and we will be together again.”
Cyril seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if conflicted. But he quickly relaxed, smiling at her. “Well… alright. I’ll see you soon, my sweet.”
Heather pulled away, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry, the trip has been long and I think we are both tired. I will go to my son. I suppose you can direct me?”
Everett was still reeling from Cyril’s earlier outburst, but he forced himself to calm down. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Cyril was being manipulated—he certainly should have known better than to say something like that, and the fact that he immediately calmed down at his wife’s request was extremely telling.
“Yes, of course,” he said at length. “One of the servants can take you there. As for you, Cyril, please come with us.”
As he’d told her, Everett had one of the servants take Heather to the nursery, while he and Leif took Cyril to one of the meeting rooms. Once they were there, Everett had the door closed behind them, and instructed Cyril to take a seat in one of the chairs.
“So shall we start discussing the, um…” Cyril paused, trying to come up with the words. “...The political business?”
“We won’t be discussing any ‘political business’ today,” Everett replied frankly. He frowned, looking his nephew straight in the eye. “Cyril, I’m going to be honest with you. I think you’re being controlled.”
“What? That’s ridiculous,” Cyril protested.
“Is it?” Everett questioned. “Tell me, then—do you know what you came here to Solis for?”
“Of course I do! We, um…” Cyril hesitated again, unsure. “Heather and I were supposed to come here together to discuss the, um… the political business.”
Everett gave him a disapproving stare. “Please don’t tell me you were relying on your wife to remind you.”
“Heather is a wonderful person!” Cyril insisted. “She’s always there to remind me of what I need to do. And she’s always there for me in general. You’re just jealous.”
“I’m not— you know what? Nevermind.” Everett sighed, pinching his brow in frustration. “Master Leif? Is there anything you can do?”
“There’s definitely something wrong,” Leif agreed. As someone who was quite prone to anger himself, Leif recognized that Cyril had calmed down far too quickly, and without any argument. It had taken Leif a minute to get control of his own irritation, so he hadn’t said anything at the time - but his suspicions were definitely back up.
And now this man, heir to House Oberon and the lands it controlled, had no idea what he was in the capital of Corvus for. Instead he was still focused on defending his wife from...well, ‘Woo knew what. Can’t be bothered to pay attention to his son, but oh, dare to separate him from his wife for a few minutes… Leif frowned. ..Hmm.
“Lord Cyril,” Leif said carefully, “I’d like to - with Lord Everett’s permission - cast a reparifors spell on you. It would remove any magical ailments. But if you’re not enchanted, it won’t hurt anything.” Cyril was a mage and probably would know this already; Leif was half-prepared for a retort along those lines even as he drew his wand from its holster. Then again, maybe that was a bit much to expect at this point.
“What?!” Cyril cried instead. “You can’t do that! How… how do I know you’re not trying to manipulate me?”
“It’s for your own good, Cyril,” Everett replied bluntly. He turned to Leif, nodding. “Go ahead.”
Cyril was still shouting in protest when Leif cast the spell. Green light swirled from Leif’s wand, spiraling a little as it landed on the Oberon heir. The light spread briefly outwards before disappearing.
A few seconds passed - but nothing changed. No clearing of Cyril’s expression, no sudden confusion, not even a few startled blinks. Instead, he just glared back at them, still seeming angry.
“You’re wrong! I told you!” he scoffed. “My love for Heather is pure!”
“Unless he’s under a curse,” Leif told Lord Everett slowly, “I don’t think it’s a spell…” Taking a step closer to Cyril, Leif tapped his wand at the air just in front of the heir. Misty green light flooded the air between the two mages, but quickly started to drop and vanish like sparks from a fire losing their heat.
“And it isn’t a curse, either.” Leif stepped back - that left one last likely possibility. “Lord Cyril...have you eaten anything...odd recently? Something that didn’t taste right? Or any drink that seemed off, or was given to you by a stranger?”
“No, of course not!” Cyril insisted. “I’ve only eaten regular meals, as I always do. And those delightful cakes that my sweet Heather gives me every night.”
“Those… wait, she does what?” Everett questioned, glancing at Leif. If he was going where he thought he was going… this was not good.
“It’s a sign of our love,” Cyril told him. “Because our love is so true.”
Leif, struggling to unclench his jaw enough to speak, asked, “Is Lady Heather the one who makes these cakes?”
“Of course! She makes them herself, just for me,” Cyril replied proudly.
“I - I saw your wife had a wand, she must be a mage - is she also a good potions-maker?”
“I, um…” Cyril paused uncertainly. Then, after a moment, he nodded cheerfully. “I don’t know, but I bet she would be. My sweet Heather is so talented, she can do anything.”
“...Right.” Leif sighed, knowing he probably wasn’t going to like the answer to his next question. “So...your wife has been making these cakes for you for how long, exactly?”
Cyril hesitated again, as if trying to remember. “I think… at least since we’ve been married. Maybe longer?”
Everett’s face fell at this revelation. “You— you’ve been married for two and a half years.”
“Yes, we have! And it’s been the best two and a half years of my life.” Cyril sighed longingly, apparently thinking about Heather. “How long are we going to be here? I want to get back to my sweet Heather.”
Leif had to choke back an obscenity. “Two and a half - two and a half years? Lord Everett - do you know if there’s any neutralizing potion in the potions stock? I can brew one myself if we need to but - I think Heather’s been dosing him with something. ...Probably a love potion.”
For two and a half years - ‘Woo above, Leif was surprised Cyril wasn’t any less functional. Taking any potion for too long was risky, but love potions were nasty things, and not very gentle on the brain and body.
“A love potion?! That’s absurd!” Cyril protested immediately upon hearing the words. “Our love is as pure as love can be! How dare you suggest it’s tainted by potions?!”
“I… we should have some,” Everett said, ignoring Cyril. “Whatever you have to do, do it. Whatever has been done to him, it needs to be reversed. Immediately.”
Leif nodded sharply. “Yes, Lord Everett. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He headed out of the room at a brisk pace.
“What is he doing? Where is he going?” Cyril fidgeted in his seat, starting to panic. “You’re trying to take Heather away from me, aren’t you?!”
“Calm down, Cyril,” Everett insisted. “We’re only trying to help.”
“No you’re not! You want to take my Heather away from me!” Cyril practically leapt out of his seat. “Well, I’m not going to let you!”
“Sit down,” Everett growled, forcing the boy back into his seat.
Cyril struggled fiercely against his grasp, trying desperately to get to the door. “I’m coming for you, Heather!”
Thankfully, a few minutes later, another mage entered the room. “My lord? Master Leif told me to come here, and… what is going on?”
“Good. Can you please help me restrain him?” Everett immediately requested. “We need to keep him here until Leif returns.”
“Um… of course, my lord,” the mage replied, confused, but pulling out his wand. He uttered a quick spell and flicked his wand at Cyril, and soon the Oberon boy found himself glued to the chair, unable to stand. This didn’t stop him from trying to escape, but it did help prevent him from getting very far.
It wasn’t very long before Leif returned. He had a small pouch tied to his belt, but more noticeably, he was carrying a plate with a glazed pastry. He faltered for a moment at the sight of the mage with his wand on Cyril, Cyril trying and failing to get up from the chair, and Everett looking freshly annoyed. ...Leif decided not to ask.
“Er. Lord Cyril? I ran into your wife on the way to the potions stock, and we had a - a talk...” The mention of Heather should get his attention, at least.
“My sweet Heather?” Cyril replied eagerly, sure enough. He immediately stopped struggling, turning his attention to Leif… much to Everett’s relief.
“Thank ‘Woo you’re back,” Everett remarked with a heavy sigh.
Leif nodded, giving Lord Everett a brief but what he hoped was pointed, glance, before turning back to Cyril. He bowed his head slightly as he spoke, as if abashed, but he was really thinking this would all go better if he didn’t make eye contact.
“Er, yes. Heather. Lady Heather. She corrected me about the potion...thing, and ah. So. I apologize. She also gave me this, to give to you, and said you should eat it right away. That you...ought to have enough sugar to get through the meeting.” Leif shrugged.
Anyone who knew Leif fairly well would recognize the patently false, rather flat tone of his apology - luckily, Cyril Oberon didn’t know the Jade archmage. Leif was still tense as he held the plate out to the Oberon heir. A bit of jelly was leaking out of one of the pastry corners; Leif had wanted to be very sure there was enough filling in the little cake to mask the taste of the neutralizing potion.
“My sweet Heather! I knew she’d come through for me.” Cyril grinned, attempting to reach for the plate, only to find that his arm was still stuck to the chair. He immediately frowned, looking up at Everett. “You would keep me from my sweet Heather’s sweets?”
“Er, no, of course not,” Everett told him, realizing what Leif was trying to do. He nodded to the other mage. “Let him have a bite, please.”
The mage was still confused by what was happening, but nodded in compliance, flicking his wand at Cyril again to release him. Cyril took advantage of his newfound freedom immediately, taking the jelly cake and taking a bite.
Please, please let it work, Everett prayed silently, watching carefully to see what would happen. There was no immediate sign of any change, Cyril just chewing silently for a few tense moments.
“Delicious, just as always,” Cyril said, after swallowing. Then he paused, looking at the jelly cake in his hand in confusion. “It tastes a little… different, though. Did she use a different recipe?”
“Uh, well - “ Leif wracked his brain for a good lie. “She probably had to use local ingredients. So they would be fresh. Solis berries must taste different from the ones in Astralogos.”
“Oh! Yes, that would make sense.” Cyril nodded, taking another bite. As he continued to chew, his expression shifted, slowly looking more and more troubled. By the time he had swallowed again, he looked downright ill. “I don’t… I don’t feel well…”
“I think it’s working,” Everett remarked, leaning in closer to try and look Cyril in the eye. “Cyril? Can you hear me?”
“I…” Cyril clutched at his head, indicating a very intense headache—not terribly surprising, considering the circumstances. “It hurts...”
“Can you do something to help?” Everett asked, glancing up at Leif.
Leif nodded, crouching beside the chair as he reached into the pouch he’d tied to his belt. “I’m sorry, Lord Cyril.” He considered explaining, but...maybe now wasn’t a good time to break the news that the past two years had been based on a potion-induced romance. Instead, he uncorked and held out one of the vials of headache-reliever he’d pulled out of the pouch. “This should help with the headache. Once that has a few minutes to set in, I’ll give you the other one.”
When Cyril didn’t respond, Everett frowned, taking the vial and helping him drink it. “It will be alright, Cyril. We’re here to help.”
Cyril drank it wordlessly, not in any state to protest. His breathing was labored, and tears were starting to well up in his eyes. Everett waited silently by his side, trying to keep him calm as the medicine went to work. A few minutes later, as promised, they gave him the second headache-reliever, giving it time to set in, as well.
Once he’d figured enough time had passed, Everett finally spoke up again. “How are you feeling?”
“What… what is happening to me?” Cyril sobbed. “I-I don’t… I don’t understand…”
Everett frowned, patting Cyril comfortingly on the shoulder. It pained him to see his nephew like this, and he only wished he could have done something sooner. “It will be alright, Cyril. We’re going to help you get through this.”
“I’m so confused, I-I… I just don’t understand…” Cyril continued, mumbling to himself similarly for quite some time. Everett did his best to comfort him, thinking on everything that had happened. After all of this, there was one thing he knew for sure—they were going to need to have a long talk with Lady Heather.
* * * * *
Heather was nervous. It was painfully obvious that the Jades were suspicious of Cyril’s fawning behavior. This was not something she’d anticipated- Cyril’s own father had never suspected anything, why should the family who were related to him through an aunt that died before he was born?
The only real hope she had was that her warning to Cyril not to trust them would keep him from allowing them to work some sort of cure on him. Unless they could prove that he was ensorcelled, she was safe. There was nothing illegal about a man being attached to his wife.
Her nerves must have shown, though she was doing her best to conceal them. She made light conversation with Lord Joffery and Lady Hope in the nursery, though it was largely perfunctory. They were clearly as uneasy around her as she felt around them. Priam clung to Joffery with an intensity Heather had not seen out of the child in some time, and though she didn’t necessarily mind not having to attend to him, she couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of resentment towards his behavior- by Everett’s admission it was one of the factors that had set off their suspicion.
I have worked too long, and too hard to lose everything now. She thought waspishly. Cyril, you had better not let them steal you away from me, not now!
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a servant appeared in the nursery asking for Heather. The meeting was over, and Cyril was asking after her. At a glance that seemed to be relieving, but… no. Cyril would have come himself, not waited for a servant. Something here was not right. Thinking fast, the noblewoman hit upon a solution. Heather knew that the Jades wouldn’t want a child to be witness to his mother being arrested or interrogated. If she brought her son along, he would provide her with ample shield, and buy time for her to figure out exactly how problematic the situation had become for her.
“Very well then,” she said crisply, turning to Joffery, who was still holding Priam- Hope having left the room to put her own children down for a nap. “I thank you very much for indulging my son, Lord Joffery, but it is time now for him to return. I’m sure his father wants to see him, after all.”
“Um…” Joffery frowned, glancing over at the servant. The servant wore a neutral expression, but in his eyes, there was a faint sense of urgency. That wasn’t a good sign, and certainly not telling of something he wanted to subject young Priam to. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Well why not?” Heather demanded, letting a bit of crossness show through. “Is Cyril not entitled to see his own son?”
Joffery grimaced, glancing at the servant again. The servant’s scowl deepened—definitely not a good sign. “Lady Heather, I… I think you should go to see your husband first. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” Heather snarled, an edge of genuine anger and a little bit of hysteria edging into her voice. “What, pray, might keep me from being able to take my child back to his father?”
Priam flinched at his mother’s tone, trembling in Joffery’s arms and muttering softly, “Mommy mad, no Mommy…”
Joffery sighed, stroking Priam’s hair consolingly. He didn’t really want to have to do this, but Heather left him no choice. “The man asked for you and you alone, Lady Heather,” Joffery stated, in a more authoritative tone than usual. “Until I am certain it’s safe for Priam to accompany you, I am asking you to go alone.”
Heather clenched her jaw. There it was. Joffery had more or less just blatantly told her that she was walking into a trap. Her hand twitched reflexively in the direction of her wand holster, though she had the sense not to actually grab it.
“Very well, Lord Jade,” she said stiffly. “Keep my child hostage. May you have joy of him.”
She spun around, not even waiting for the servant to guide her out before she left the room. The servant had to trot to catch up to her, and then began to guide her through the halls. She briefly, fleetingly considered hitting him with a confundus charm and making a break for it- but no. That would be an admission of guilt. If she was to have any chance of worming her way out of this, she had to play stupid.
Leif lifted his head as the sound of footsteps finally reached his ears. “I think that’s her,” he quietly announced, stepping away from the door to stand closer to Lord Everett. Leif didn’t expect Heather Oberon to come into the room firing spells, but he also wouldn’t have expected to learn she had been dosing her husband with love potion every night for the past two and a half years. Leif drew his wand from its holster, shifting his arm back to hide it from immediate sight.
Heather walked into the room the servant had indicated, fixing her expression to one of calm- just as any wife who was coming to see her husband after a political meeting would look. As she crossed the threshold, she stopped, frowning a little. “Where’s Cyril? I thought-”
Leif’s arm shot up and out. “Colloportus” The door slammed shut behind Heather and locked with a sharp clack. The archmage shifted his wandpoint toward Heather, ready to have to cast a shield if she was going on the offensive.
Heather jumped, spinning around as the door slammed closed- she knew that spell, and she knew she’d not be getting the door back open until the mage who cast it dispelled it. Letting some of her genuine fear show on her face, she said, “Wh-what is the meaning of this? Why have you locked the door, where is Cyril?”
“Cyril is resting somewhere safe at the moment,” Everett told her, a hint of anger in his otherwise level tone. “Do you mind if we speak with you privately for a moment?”
“R-resting? What has happened to him? Is he ill?” Heather asked, to all appearances frantic with worry. “Of course, we can talk about anything you like my lord, only tell me if my husband is alright!”
“He’s better now than he has been for the past two years,” Leif said coldly, wand still trained on the woman, “now that we’ve given him a neutralizing potion.”
“A what?” she said, aghast, though internally she was cursing. “Why would he need a neutralizing potion? Tell me what’s going on!”
“On the contrary…” Everett narrowed his eyes at her. “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been doing to my nephew?”
“I d-don’t know what you mean,” she stammered. “I’ve done nothing save love him, as any wife should. Why am I being held at wandpoint, my lord?”
“I think you know very well why.” Everett turned to look at Leif. “You know what to do.”
Leif didn’t even pause to give confirmation - seeing this woman who had been poisoning her husband for almost three years stand there and lie was so maddening it felt more like his anger was rushing through his wand than his magic. “Verwootaserum!” It had been a long time since he had needed to use the truth-telling spell.
“Let me ask again, then,” Everett stated, once he was sure the spell had taken effect. “What have you done to my nephew.”
Years of the potions, the coercions, the lies, all of it slammed Heather’s mind as the spell tried to force it from her lips. She gritted her teeth. “I… I wooed him... I got him to l-love me, and I married him. How is that now a crime worth being truth-spelled?”
Leif snorted. “We already told you we gave him a neutralizing potion, do we really have to play this game of trying to step around the spell?’
“He asked me to marry him,” Heather snarled, starting to lose her temper, and with it her fight to keep her mouth shut against the power of the truth spell. “He w-was an idiot, I- I would have made a far better ruler of House Oberon! Of House Escalus!”
“So you forced him to fall in love with you?” Everett growled, quickly losing his own temper. “So you could take over House Oberon?”
“My father made his second son the heir because he was a mage and the eldest was not,” Heather retorted. “But I was a far stronger mage than Filipe, and I had twice the will of that spineless fool. Yet Father was driven by regret over alienating his oldest child and refused to give me the place that someone with my power deserves. The strong should not be constrained by the weak! So yes, I found a feckless idiot and I used the power I was blessed with by the Woo to earn a place when I could not have one by right!”
She snatched her wand from its holster, bellowing, “Protegwoo!”
Leif, who had been expecting a spell aimed at either himself or Lord Everett, let the chain of runes he’d half-gathered for a shield of his own finish gathering together, and turned his wand briefly in Lord Everett’s direction to cast it. Not much, just a hovering, tall disc, but better than nothing. He flicked his wand back in Heather’s direction. However, in his brief moment of distraction the noblewoman had turned around, and pointed at the door with a cry of “Expulso!” Thought the lock mechanism on the door remained firmly anchored to the frame, the wood was blasted apart, allowing Heather to slip through out into the hallway.
With a curse Leif hurried after her, kicking a few splinters out of the way so he could get through. She was racing down the hall - Leif pointed his wand at a rug the woman’s feet had just left - “Woogardium Leviosa!” Dropping an ornate rug onto someone’s head wasn’t precisely elegant fighting, but it would do. He fed a burst of power into the spell to force the rug forward to catch up with Heather, then cut the magic completely.
Heather yelped as the heavy rug collided with her, sending her stumbling forwards. She flailed against the heavy folds, trying to get together the runes in her head to get it off while stuck in a very awkward position and unable to flick or aim her wand.
Leif bolted the remaining distance, practically diving to get to Heather and disarm her. Irritating that he had to do it by hand, but like most mages, she wore protective spells designed to prevent magical disarmament. Someday, Leif swore as he forced her fingers off the wand, I’m going to invent a new disarming spell that gets around the protections, and I won’t have to deal with this kind of thing anymore! Courdonian mages, mages selling spiked juice, jealous noble’s kids…
Leif finally managed to get the wand away from her; he shoved it in his holster and pointed his own wand at Heather. “On your feet - hands up,” he added sharply. The last thing he wanted was to find out she was also good at brewing the kinds of potions fireknights tossed down on their opponents in battle.
That last, desperate bid had failed. It was over- all her work, all her triumph, and now it was over. Seething with bitterness and despair, she stood up shakily, holding out her hands. If only she’d had a sword, she was trained to use them at the Iphicles Institute, but she’d stopped wearing hers after marrying into the Oberons…
“So you have me,” she spat, just as Lord Everett appeared on the scene. “You win; congratulations! I gave that fool of a boy an heir, and with my intelligence and power his house would have become great- now you’re leaving it in hands of a damaged idiot. Savor your victory.”
“First of all, that ‘damaged idiot’ is my nephew, and you do not speak of my family that way,” Everett hissed. “And if you honestly thought this little ploy of yours was going to work as a long-term solution… then perhaps you aren’t as intelligent as you think you are.”
“And before you start throwing around insults, why don’t you consider that it was you who did the damage?” Leif added scathingly. “I refuse to believe you’re studied enough to know how to brew love potion, but don’t know the effects. You’ve been poisoning him for nearly three years - are we honestly supposed to regret taking someone like that out of power?” His grip on his wand tightening, Leif went on in a low voice, “And away from your child?”
Heather was seething far too much to frame a coherent reply. If the looks could kill, the expression she was training on Everett and Leif would have leveled all of Solis.
“Regardless, what you have done is a very serious crime,” Everett concluded. “And I guarantee you that you won’t be ruling any noble Houses from where you’ll be going.”
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Post by PFA on Feb 4, 2015 12:21:49 GMT -5
Dominion - Epilogue“I can’t believe she was using love potions on him,” Joffery said, after his father told him the whole story. “That’s just… that’s just wrong.”
“I can’t believe it was going on for nearly three years,” Everett added with a sigh. “But at least we were able to stop her before it got any worse.”
Leif, scowling aimlessly at the various portraits and decorative features they passed as they walked, agreed, “At least. And before she could take over House Oberon - I don’t like the thought of what a person that manipulative and heartless would do with an entire region under their control.”
“I just hope Cyril will be okay.” Joffery frowned. “I want him back to normal.”
“Believe me, Joffery, we all do,” Everett replied, as they reached the small guest room where Cyril was staying. “But there’s one way to find out.”
He pushed open the door, and the three of them stepped into the room. Cyril was lying on the bed, looking very worn out, but better than he was earlier. A healer was by his bedside, tending to him, but paused to look up at the newcomers as they entered.
“How is he?” Everett asked.
The man bowed to Everett, then glanced at the exhausted nobleman on the bed. His eyes were full of sympathy. “Better, though given the state he was in when he arrived I guess that’s not saying much. I’ve given him some medicine to clear his system of whatever might be left of the love potion or its ingredients. He’s having massive withdrawal, but only time can really cure that. We’re treating the symptoms in the meantime.”
The healer glanced down at Cyril with a sigh. “He’s still badly disoriented as well. For that, I’m afraid there is no easy cure. Spending several years unable to control your own thoughts is bound to have lingering affects…”
“Will… will he be okay?” Joffery asked.
“That’s up to him,” the healer replied. “He’ll need time. Most of the young lord’s mind has been habituated to constantly thinking of his wife and how to make her happy. He’ll probably have to re-learn how to think on his own, and he’ll need a lot of help to work out what his own opinions and inclinations are and what’s something she’s influenced him to think. It’s going to be… a process.”
Leif, hanging back a little from the Jades and their nephew, nodded slightly at this. Hopefully Cyril would be able to recover from these years of muddled thoughts better than Leif had from his. Well...he at least had a fairly normal life up until then...it won’t be easy, but at least he has a solid base to build on. Leif wished he could say something to help, but there wasn’t really much he could say that would make this any better.
Everett frowned, moving closer to the bed and looking down at Cyril. “Can you hear us, Cyril?”
Cyril glanced up at him slowly, his eyes dull from sheer exhaustion. He was silent at first, but then, in a quiet voice, he spoke. “I… I really like the woodwork in this room…”
Everett managed a small smile at that. Well, it was a start. “Just hang in there, Cyril. We’re doing everything we can to help.”
“I-I… I’m so sorry,” Cyril said, tears starting to well up in his eyes again. “I mean, I… I shouldn’t have—”
“You know it’s not your fault,” Everett told him. “You were acting under the influence of a potion.”
“And you were able to avoid doing anything worse than trying to run,” Leif remarked quietly, nodding toward Cyril’s wand. “Considering you’re a mage, you could have done a lot worse, but didn’t.”
“I just… Heather convinced me that…” Cyril frowned, staring absently into the distance. “...Oh ‘Woo, Heather… why did she do this?”
“She wanted power,” Everett explained, scowling at the memory. These noble children with their constant inheritance struggles were going to be the end of him. “She used you for her own selfish purposes. ...I’m sorry, Cyril.”
“I just wish I could take it back,” Cyril said. “I just… I can’t believe this happened…”
“I know.” Everett sighed. “I’m not sure anyone could have seen it coming.”
“I’m just glad we were able to help. I was really worried,” Joffery added. “And I think this will be good for Priam, too.”
“Priam,” Cyril repeated, barely more than a whisper. “My… my son. Dear ‘Woo, I have a son.” The realization hit him hard, and he started to cry again. “I-I have a son…”
Leif glanced away, a little relieved - cautiously so, but still, at least Cyril seemed to care. That poor child...Joffery was right that it would be good for Priam. Leif could imagine all-too-well how neglected the boy must feel already, with all of his father’s attention on Heather, and all of Heather’s on keeping her ruse going and gaining control of Astralogos. Hopefully he wasn’t old enough yet to really comprehend his political value and realize how much more important that had been to his mother than anything else.
“...Don’t worry, he’s okay,” Joffery assured Cyril. “Hope and I have been looking after him.”
“...Th… thank you,” Cyril replied weakly. “He doesn’t… he didn’t deserve this.”
The healer cleared his throat. “My lord, if you and Lady Hope are amenable to it… it might be a good idea for you to keep looking after Lord Oberon’s son, at least for the time being. The stresses of trying to sort himself out are going to be hard enough on him without trying to learn how to be a father- to a child born from the manipulation no less.” He glanced down at Cyril, adding, “If that’s alright with you, of course, Lord Oberon.”
“I’d be fine with that, of course,” Joffery agreed, nodding. “Cyril?”
“I…” Cyril sniffed, trying to chain his jumbled thoughts together. “...I don’t know…”
“You might need some time to think about it,” Everett noted. “It’s been a hard day for you.”
Cyril didn’t respond, lost in his own thoughts. The poor man was understandably disoriented, after having spent so long not making any of his own decisions. All was silent for a moment, before finally Joffery decided to speak again.
“Well… either way, Hope and I would be happy to look after him until you feel ready,” he said.
After a moment, Cyril nodded carefully. “...Thank you.”
The healer sighed, clearing his throat. “Lord Everett, Master Leif, if I may speak with you both outside?” To Joffery he added, “Could you keep Lord Oberon company? It’s probably best if he isn’t alone for a while.”
Leif’s eyes flicked to the healer. “Ah - yes. Of course.”
Everett glanced at Joffery, who gave an affirmative nod. Everett nodded in turn. “Indeed. I hope you recover well, Cyril.”
“Th-thank you,” Cyril replied.
With that, the healer led Everett and Leif out into the hallway. Once he was certain they were far enough from Cyril’s room to be out of earshot, the man sighed. “I’m going to be frank, my lord- he’s in bad sorts. I’m honestly impressed he’s as coherent as he is, coming off of almost three years of constant love-potion influence.” He looked up to the archmage. “I don’t know if Master Leif told you yet the long-term consequences on the body and brain?”
Leif sighed. “No, not yet - there wasn’t a good opportunity. ...Suffice to say, they aren’t good. He’ll need to be on potions for a while yet just to counteract the withdrawal symptoms. If he has anxiety or impeded focus, too...”
“Not to mention,” the healer put in, “the simple conditioning of being subservient to his captor for so long. You saw in there- when I put a question to him, he didn’t have an answer, or even an opinion. He doesn’t remember how to make decisions for himself, he’s become far too accustomed to deferring all of his choices to his wife. And there are bound to be other things she’s influenced him to think and feel, associations she’s given him, that he won’t consciously realize aren’t his own.”
Leif nodded in agreement. “Someone’s going to need to help walk him through that. Or out of it, rather. ...It might be best to not have him return home yet - all those familiar things from his marriage is bound to stress him, at the very least. I could see it driving him into a cycle if he isn’t careful.”
The healer nodded, “That’s another problem often seen with victims of love potions- obsession, fixation, and following the same circular rabbit trails into a meltdown. Master Leif is right- it would be a very bad idea to send him to Astralogos. Actually…” the man sighed. “I know he’s your nephew, and you want to help him, but… it’s probably a bad idea to keep him here as well. From what little I could glean talking to him before you arrived, his wife fed him some lies that twisted his mental impression of you and Lord Joffery both. He seems to realize now that it isn’t true, but the association is still there.”
Everett frowned, troubled by the implications of that… though, given some of the things Cyril had said earlier, it wasn’t entirely surprising. “So what do you suggest?”
“I don’t really know,” the healer said, frowning pensively. “I wouldn’t send him to one of the healing colleges, it might trigger associations with that war mage college in Heleos the Escalus family runs. There is the church in Iscaria, I forget what it’s called…”
Leif smirked briefly. “Our Woo of Charity. It’s a good church, there are very good mages there...I’m not sure they’ll be able to handle a case as...involved as this one, though. When they do long-term care, it’s for injuries and illness. ...And it’s easy to be distracted there.” Leif crossed his arms, trying not to feel defensive for admitting that, and quickly continued on with the original topic.
“I suppose we could try to find a private specialist, though that still leaves the problem of where he’ll live. I don’t think there are many places like that in Corvus outside the healing colleges.” He frowned. “Not that I’m sure anything like that exists outside of it.” Yes, Leif knew people in Medieville who had improved psychologically and magically, but that had been because of…
...Well. It wasn’t a terrible idea. And Cyril would - Leif hoped - ultimately make the choice as to where he was going, so there wasn’t any harm in bringing it up as a possibility. “He could come stay in Medieville with me,” Leif suggested slowly. “With the Marsons’ permission - he could stay in the Manor there, and I can make sure he gets medical treatment for the withdrawal, try to keep him on track...I might need some help with counseling him through this, but I think I know where I could get that, if I need it.” He shrugged. “Medieville is a bit distracting, too, but...in a different way.”
Everett thought on this for a moment, then nodded. “That seems reasonable. And he did always want to see the Grand Woo Cathedral, but never had the chance.”
“If both of you are amenable to it, that seems like an excellent idea,” the healer said, sounding relieved. “Though we should also encourage Lord Oberon to weigh in an opinion on it- he’s spent far too long letting someone else dictate his life. He needs to get back into practice making his own decisions, if only by giving an opinion on this idea- it’s probably too early to expect him to be ready to approve or disprove it of his own volition.”
“Of course,” Everett agreed. “Whatever it takes to help his recovery.”
“If he’s agreeable to it, I’ll do it,” Leif said. “I might need to copy notes from a few books in the library to make sure I have the right potion recipes. That should give him a few days to decide.”
Everett nodded in agreement. “Unless there’s anything else to discuss, should we ask him right now?”
“I think that would be wise,” the healer agreed. “Give him as much time as possible to try and parse through his thoughts to reach a decision.”
“Right. Let’s go, then,” Everett said, turning to head back to the guest room. Leif and the healer followed shortly thereafter.
On their way back to the room, they were greeted with the familiar sound of Joffery’s singing voice—from the sound of it, Joffery was trying to help Cyril feel better with music. Though Joffery’s singing usually annoyed him, this time Everett gave a small amused smile, shaking his head. Joffery could only be Joffery.
“...And keep us safe this lonely night,” Joffery sang, trailing off as the door opened. He turned to look, smiling. “Oh! Welcome back.”
“Yes, thank you,” Everett replied. “We had an idea, and we thought we should ask for Cyril’s opinion on the matter.”
“What…?” Cyril mumbled, glancing over at them. “What is it?”
Leif hesitantly stepped forward to explain, picking his words carefully. “You’re going to need some additional treatment, even once you’ve recovered from the immediate withdrawal. Some of that’s going to require magic, but we’re considering that it might be nice if you had a change of scenery. I’m a mage, and I live in Medieville…” Leif shrugged. “You don’t have to make a decision now - but it occurred to us that you might come stay there for a while. Lord Everett’s cousins, the Marsons, would have a place for you to stay - I live nearby, and I can do a lot of my work in the Manor so I can be around if you need me.” It might be a good idea to move back into the place to be there overnight as well, but that was something Leif would need to discuss with Kirin first. Not that he was going to mention that explicitly to Cyril right now - probably the last thing he needed to hear about right now were phrases referring to spouses.
“And,” Leif went on, remembering Lord Everett’s earlier comment, “there’s an empty room with a view of the Grand Woo Cathedral out the window. It might be nice for helping you not feel too far from home.”
Cyril thought on this for a moment. Then, slowly, he gave a weak smile. “I… I always wanted to see the Grand Woo Cathedral.”
Everett smiled at this. “Well, think on it. As he said, you’ll have a few days to decide for certain.”
“O… okay.” Cyril nodded. “Thank you.”
Progress was going to take time, for sure, and it wasn’t going to be easy for Cyril. But with any luck, hopefully things would start looking up for him soon. If nothing else, Everett was confident that Cyril would be in good hands in Medieville.
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Post by Tiger on Feb 20, 2015 21:55:51 GMT -5
A Chance to Help - Part One Flight Lieutenant Anders Escalus was in his office in the barracks of the Jade fireknights. It was the autumn of 1309, and Kyth was in the middle of a rather nasty drought. The record low of rainfall wasn’t affecting Corvus as badly as it was their neighbors in Kine, but it was still causing some problems that made everyone who worked in or around Jade Manor tense. But at this particular moment, Anders was not thinking about the drought. In fact he wasn’t thinking about anything that one would assume would bring a fireknight officer into his office. The general of the fireknight forces had put his youngest Flight Lieutenant in contact with a very strange visitor, and that conversation had been a very odd one indeed… There was a soft click at the door, and Anders looked up to see his Right Wedge, Cai Shahar, standing in the doorway. The other man saluted him and Anders stood to return it, before gesturing at the chair across from his desk. “Good, you made it. Please sit down, Sir Shahar. This is… going to be an unusual conversation.” Cai nodded slightly, taking the offered seat. Though his expression showed little sign of anything other than attentive interest, he was curious about what exactly was going to be unusual about this meeting. Fireknights dealt with a great many problems that could be called strange. He hadn’t really been given any sort of briefing, which was not uncommon, but it did mean Cai had no clues to pick at. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Anders sat back down himself, leaning forwards with both forearms resting against his desk. “First off, I want to make one thing abundantly clear- this is not official fireknight business, and if at any point you become uncomfortable with the discussion, you are free to go. I have had the pleasure today of meeting someone who… let’s say their interests might run parallel to some of your own. But it’s up to you what you do with the information I’m about to give you.” “Understood, sir,” Cai said after a moment’s pause. He was not entirely sure what to make of that; not fireknight business, but related to something he was interested in...and yet, potentially discomforting? That last piece especially made him nervous, careful as Cai was not to show it. Still, he could at least trust that Lieutenant Escalus had a good reason for bringing up something that delicate. He waited for his commander to continue. “I’m not going to dance around it,” Anders said, “I respect your intelligence enough not to do that. Earlier today the general put me in touch with someone who he had been put in contact with by the Commander of the knights of Nid’aigle- the elf city in eastern Corvus. This young woman I spoke to is a translator for the elves, who can speak both their language and Kythian. She…” The man sighed. He’d already said he wasn’t going to dance around it, and there was no delicate way to ask this, so might as well come out with it. “Shahar, how much do you know about the difficulties that Nid’aigle has with Courdon?” Well, that was an unexpected question. But it explained, or at least began to explain, why this conversation might be an uncomfortable one. “Not a great deal, Lieutenant.” Cai paused to consider how to put it, and finally said, “I know the elves are not treated well in Courdon. My owners didn’t have any enslaved elves themselves, so my experience isn’t personal. But I understand that the elves are long-lived, and any slave that saved them a few generations worth of breaking-in and retraining new ones would be...valuable.” Frowning, he added, “I would assume they’re troubled by the slave-raiders as well. From the sound of it, there were not many born into Courdon, so they would have had to be taken from elsewhere.” Anders’ mouth was set on a grim line. “‘Troubled’ is a word. ‘Plagued’ is a more accurate one. A good three quarters of the raiders who invade Kyth have their sights set on Nid’aigle. It is the last city of that particular breed of elves in Kyth. They have to beat off slavers at least once every three or four months. And they don’t always succeed in keeping all of their people safe.” Cai’s hands, resting on his knees, closed into fists. Every three or four months? Of course, Cai could see the logic of it. The elves were valuable targets to Courdonian slavers, and with only one city to go after, slave-raiders could easily share their knowledge of the city and learn from one another - they just had to keep their attacks varied, so that the elves couldn’t always predict where they would come from, and subtle, to avoid being caught by Kythian military. The fireknight’s martial analysis did nothing to temper the escaped slave’s anger. The Lieutenant gave Cai an ironic quirk of the eyebrow. “Suffice it to say, the loathing they feel towards the Slave Lords of Courdon and the centuries worth of wrongs that they hold a grudge for could fill several lengthy books. Not coincidentally, they hold a very profound sympathy for the Courdonian slaves- which brings me to the main point.” He looked Cai directly in the eye. “The translator who approached me said that sometimes escaped slaves will pass through Nid’aigle on their journey north. But very few in the city even speak Kythian- none of them know Courdonian, Low or High. She came to Solis because she wants to learn to speak the Low dialect, so that she can communicate with runaways and give them help in a language that they won’t immediately associate with their former captors. But as I’m sure you discovered yourself-” here the Lieutenant switched to High Courdonian, “ None of the official outlets for language lessons here in Kyth can help her with that.” Returning to Kythian, he went on. “By now I surmise that you can see where this is going. I didn’t tell her your name, or even confirm that I knew someone who knew the language- I just said that I would ‘look into it’ and get back to her. I understand if you are uncomfortable with it, given your reluctance to make widely known where you came from. I won’t try to pressure you into a decision either way- but for what it’s worth, I do think she is sincere in her desire to help.” Yes, Cai understood what was being asked of him. And if he agreed to it...it could be a dangerous move. Cai kept his birth status as closely-guarded a secret as he could and could justify, no further than a handful of fireknights, and possibly Lord Everett Jade. The burn scars on his jaw were obvious enough if any slavehunters ever came looking for Cai; he felt no need to tempt any fates or gods or whatever forces might be at work in the world by spreading the word. It was dangerous for him, and for the fireknights who had sheltered him despite the terms of the treaty between the two countries, and for Kyth if Courdon chose to take some kind of vengeance for not only harboring a slave, but allowing him to become a fireknight. But it’s only one more person, Cai reminded himself, resting his chin on his fingertips in thought. And a person with no reason to want to sell me out. He also couldn’t deny that the translator’s motivations were very appealing, and incredibly sympathetic. Cai remembered very clearly the constant fear of people, even when he’d made it across the border and into Corvus. Not being able to understand the people around you was terrifying - no way to gauge motives or warnings or orders, all things slaves were conditioned to listen for, and punished for missing. Being spoken to in High Courdonian was not much better. As Lieutenant Escalus had said, it was the language of their oppressors. It had been a decade and then some between Cai’s escape and now, and still a muscle in his back tried to tense and drive him into a straight-backed but head-down posture every time he heard High Courdonian. Any slave who made it into the elven city would probably be frightened enough by the unfamiliar citizens; an elf speaking to them in High Courdonian would only make things worse.Cai had nearly bolted from the first Kythian to speak High Courdonian to him, and that had been alongside someone who’d saved him from slavehunters already. Low Courdonian would have been so much less frightening... Cai supposed he’d known what his decision was going to be as soon as it had been laid before him. “It would make a world of difference for escaping slaves, if Kyth could be explained to them. The idea is a good one.” He considered admitting that the idea of confessing his heritage to someone new and outside the fireknights made him nervous - but ultimately, he decided it was both obvious and not very relevant. Lieutenant Escalus trusted that the translator wasn’t going to sell Cai out, and it was not as if it would be safe for an elf to go looking for Courdonians to report escaped slaves to. There was, Cai supposed, always the possibility of a spy - but if the Courdonians had reason to suspect a slave was among the fireknights, all they would really have to do was request a lineup with everyone baring their shoulders. A spy - a spy of a race Courdon used exclusively for slaves, especially - was highly unlikely. “These lessons would be held somewhere here in Solis, correct? I presume I would not be given months’ leave to go teach in the elven city.” “Correct,” Anders said. “She has also offered to compensate you for your time, if you wish. Since she is a translator she’ll be doing some work here in the city transcribing important documents and texts from Kythian into Elvish while she’s not working with you- assuming you agree to it.” That offer surprised Cai - though of course, that was a perfectly reasonable thing for the translator to offer. Most professional language tutors charged for lessons, didn’t they? Cai might have earned his Kythian lessons through a combination of labor exchange and his future use as a fireknight, but usually that wouldn’t be the case. Still...the idea of charging a fee for lessons that would be used to help slaves seemed...wrong. After all, the escapees had literally nothing to their names but what they could carry, and Cai already found rather limited use for the extra coin from his military stipend. Treats for Tamir, puzzle game tiles, and even the pricier scrambled-painting puzzles only cost so much. “If it begins to interfere with my fireknight duties, we can reach a compromise, I believe,” Cai said. “Though if that begins to happen, I’m certain you and the rest of the wing will notice and keep it from going very far. Otherwise, let her keep the money. If she feels the need to use it for something relevant, there are plenty of items a runaway slave would be grateful for that she could purchase with the runestones instead.” Anders nodded, “As you will. I’ll arrange for her to meet with you then, if you’ve made your decision- do you have a preference in terms of where and when?” “Sooner rather than later would be ideal, I think.” He considered the where - that was a bit tricky. “Would it be impertinent to request a small room in Jade Manor?” That might balance out Cai’s concerns; he certainly didn’t want to be somewhere a secret pack of slavehunters could grab him - foolish as that scenario sounded - but trying to find a private space in the fireknights’ compound was likely an exercise in futility, and there was bound to be some notice from Cai’s fellow soldiers. The Lieutenant considered it, then nodded. “That probably won’t work long term, but I think I can work something out for the first few sessions. I’ll see about arranging for one to be empty for the next few afternoons. After that you and she can work something out between yourselves. Remember this will be your own project, unaffiliated with us. Don’t think you have to go through me for everything.” He smiled then, adding, “But of course I’ll do what I can to help get this off the ground, if nothing else. I grew up on the border, so I know what it’s like.” “Thank you, Lieutenant. And I will bear that in mind.” Cai told himself that managing this “project” would be in most ways little different from running training drills and otherwise commanding the wing when Lieutenant Escalus was absent or occupied. He suspected that would not be the case, but he would adapt. It was going to be interesting, to say the very least. * * * * * The following afternoon, a young woman found herself waiting in one of the small, private meeting rooms in Jade Manor. It was far from the first time she’d been in one of these rooms, considering her training as a diplomat and translator for the elves. But she was only twenty-one and still somewhat inexperienced. The opulence of the manor occasionally overawed her. She sat as still as she could, despite the temptation to play with the end of her waist-length black braid. Lieutenant Escalus hadn’t told her much about the person she was to be meeting, which was understandable. If whoever it was had enough proficiency in Low Courdonian to teach it, then they were either well acquainted with a former slave, or an escaped slave themselves. Either way, such a person wouldn’t want their identity being bandied about. Finally overcome by the need to move so that she wouldn’t fidget, the woman stood and walked over to the window to look out over the city. The sunlight caught in her deep blue eyes, making them shimmer like sapphires. This, along with the slightly tapered point of her ears, marked her for what she was- an elvenborn, and the person that Cai was to be meeting. Cai was nervous, he had to admit that, as he walked down the wide hallways of the manor. He rarely ventured into the Lord Jades’ dwelling; it was not really a place ideal for sweaty, soot-covered fireknights except in case of emergency. Needless to say, he wasn’t either of those things now - he’d cleaned up, made sure to wear properly tidy attire, shined his boots a little. There wasn’t much he could do about the spattering of burn scars along his jaw. Cai was not sure what the translator’s reaction would be; he’d gotten so many different sorts of responses over the years that at this point, he had given up cataloguing them. The scars weren’t really what he was nervous about, though; no matter how she responded, it would be a moment, and then it would be over. It was his own behavior Cai was concerned about. How much courtly etiquette would be expected? Would he be a good teacher? Would he be able to overcome his tendency toward brief, reserved speech to appear friendly? It wouldn’t be the first time he had unintentionally made others uncomfortable with it. He was out of time to worry any more, however; he had reached the room where he was to meet the elven translator. Cai set aside his unease and knocked lightly on the door before opening it and stepping inside. The woman was standing at the window. There was a strange shimmer from her eyes as she turned toward Cai’s entrance; it temporarily distracted him from glancing at her ears. When he did look, they turned out to be slightly pointed and triangular in shape, which suggested she was indeed elven. Though Cai had not doubted Lieutenant Escalus’ word on that, it was still reassuring to see. “Hello,” he said with a polite bow. “My name is Cai Shahar. I’m supposed to be seeing you about...language lessons?” He kept it vague, just in case he had found the wrong elf. Ophelia turned as the door opened, catching sight of a short man with dark skin and black hair as he came into the room. Her gaze flicked to the darker marks that scoured his neck and chin, like someone had splashed him with something that seared his skin. For a split second recognition and a bit of nostalgic sadness entered her gaze as she recognized the burns for what they were, but she shook it off a moment later and smiled politely. “Well met, Sir Shahar,” she replied brightly, nodding in reply and walking over towards him. As she drew close enough she held out a hand for him to shake, adding, “I’m Ophelia Braham- and yes, that would be me. I’m happy for your help with this venture- it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but finally decided to pursue in earnest only a month or so ago.” Just a glance at his scars, and a bit of sadness. Cai wasn’t sure what the sadness was for, though pity was a usual culprit. It was certainly preferable to startled tensing or staring or outright asking where the burns had come from. He accepted her handshake and listened as she spoke. There was definitely something odd about the way her eyes reacted to the light; it looked rather like the reflective effect of polished metal. “I’m glad I can offer assistance, Ms Braham - or is there another title you’d prefer I use?” The young woman laughed, shaking her head ruefully. “Just Ophelia is fine, Sir. I’ve been ‘Ophee’ or ‘Phee’ my entire life, so being called ‘Ms. Braham’ feels dreadfully formal.” She gave a slight smile and added, “And it makes me feel like I’ve turned into my mother. I’m older than I look but not by that much.” An offer to use the woman’s first name was a surprise to Cai - but maybe it was for the best. Less protocol to fuss over meant more focus on teaching the language. For someone who had spent all of his life with ranks being very sharply defined, however, Cai was a bit unsure about calling the woman by her name. But she said that’s what she would prefer, and this is not a military situation. “If that’s your preference, then, Ophelia,” Cai said after a second’s pause. Another brief moment of silence, and Cai added, “If you dislike the formality, you may call me ‘Cai’, if you wish.” The young woman nodded. “If that’s alright with you, Cai.” With a somewhat self-conscious cough, she added, “And since I know it’s going to probably come up eventually, I’ll go ahead and clear up the question now. I’m not an elf- not entirely. If you’ve ever seen Advisor Peter around the manor you’ll probably notice he has several obvious physiological differences from me. I’m half-elf.” She seemed a bit hesitant at this admission, a somewhat defensive veil coming over her eyes as if she expected to meet with some sort of negative response. Cai guessed he must be missing something, because he didn’t see why it would be something to be perturbed over. The Courdonians might have spit bricks at this information, that humans could have children with an enslaved race, but… Well, no, that might explain it. Technically, Cai was Courdonian. ...Now he had to figure out what to say. “I see. I hope it doesn’t come across that I would make a fuss about such a thing.” If nothing else, his slave years had taught him how to keep his voice perfectly controlled, so it was easy to keep it sounding neutral instead of offended or angry with the Courdonian slavelords and their prejudices. The tenseness seemed to go out of Ophelia, and she smiled again. “I don’t like to make assumptions. Even on this side of the border I have met with… disapproval. Conservative voices are loud, no matter if the language they speak is Courdonian or Kythian. Thank you though, for understanding.” Cai dipped his head slightly, glad he had been able to avoid sounding annoyed and that her apprehensions hadn’t been prejudicial after all. “It’s no trouble. I’m sorry to hear there are such people in Kyth as well.” He had learned by now that, for all its improvements over Courdon, Kyth was not perfect; it still bothered him some when he learned exactly what those ways were. For the time being, though, Cai shunted that to the side. “It is what it is,” the woman said with a shrug. “But I figured it was better to address the question now than to wait until later and blindside you with it. I also didn’t wish to seem as if I was maintaining a deception by misinformation. I’m not ashamed of what I am, but-” She was cut off by a noise from out the window, and glanced around in surprise. It was like fluting, if fluting could be made to imitate the quality of birdsong. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard it while visiting Solis, but she’d always been busy and not had time to ask what the noise was before. Cai, noticing Ophelia’s confusion, explained, “One of the phoenixes flying by must be sounding its location. You may hear them singing from time to time; this room is fairly close to the fireknight base.” Something occurred to him, and he added, “If you find it distracting, we can find another location.” “Oh!” the half-elf’s eyes brightened with interest. “So that’s what that sound is! I’ve heard it before but never had the chance to ask. Don’t worry, it wouldn’t distract me, it’s actually rather pretty. It actually sort of reminds me of home, in a way; my older brother likes to sing, you see, so I grew up around music. Though I’ve never known a bird to sound quite like that before.” She turned, walking back towards the window and looking out to see if she could spot any phoenixes, but unfortunately they were shielded from view by an oblong building that she presumed must be some sort of barracks. “I’ve seen the black and white Accipiter phoenixes passing over Nid’aigle from time to time on their patrols, but I’ve never seen one of any breed up close.” “Phoenixes do many things that aren’t much like any other bird,” Cai said with a slight smile. “The Corvids say they’re holy birds, and that’s part of why they act and sound so different.” Accipiter must be one of the minor Houses, Cai figured. He had trouble keeping them all straight, especially compounded with keeping track of the ruling Houses of each province and all their minor Houses. Guessing Ophelia was looking for the bird in the sky, Cai told her, “They tend to fly high, to make themselves smaller targets and to avoid frightening anyone below. That one should be returning to base within...fifteen minutes, perhaps, but unfortunately,” he added, his hazel eyes flicking to the window, “this isn’t a good spot to see the landing.” He took a few seconds and added, “Lieutenant Escalus says that we’ll only have this room for a few days. I don’t know that we can make it permanent, but there are a few days most of the base is emptier for patrols and training. With permission, we might be able to find a place to work there, and by circumstance, you would be able to see a few phoenixes more closely when they land.” Ophelia’s sapphire blue eyes, already glimmering from the sunlight outside, brightened even further. “I would like that, if it’s not an imposition. I admit, I’ve always been extremely curious and greedy when it comes to knowledge. I love experiencing new things. So long as none of the fledglings are practicing igniting themselves, that is.” That odd look she’d had when she first saw Cai’s scars flashed across her face again for a split second, but she pushed it away. An odd specification, Cai thought. Though of course, it was a little unnerving seeing living creatures set themselves on fire at first. “Training schedules are planned ahead of time; I can make requests and find what wings are planning fire-training when, and schedule a lesson accordingly.” He considered adding that adult phoenixes had good control of their fire, and that the young ones were very closely supervised during their training, usually with a mage on hand to immediately contain any errors on the fledgling’s part. But most likely, it was better not to push. Cai could find a time free of fire-training without much difficulty. There was a relieved, almost tired quality to the young woman’s smile, and she nodded her head. “Thank you, Cai. I hope I don’t put you out any; if there’s anything you need or want of me, please just ask.” “It’s no trouble.” Remembering why he was here in the first place, Cai added, “Particularly not for someone going to such lengths to assist runaway slaves.” He almost wanted to snatch the last words back as soon as he said them; the walls of Jade Manor were thick and sturdy and there was likely no one around to eavesdrop - but Cai had spent so long avoiding any mention of escaped slaves that it still felt dangerous. Of course, he was going to need to get over that, if he was going to be giving lessons in a slave dialect. The half-elf’s gaze softened somewhat, and she nodded. “Of course. I’m not a knight like my father and brother, to be able to fight the raiders and hunters, but if I can help even in this small way, I want to give it my all.” “There are dangers outside of raiders and hunters; being able to warn them in their language will help just as many as the knights who kill the slavehunters,” Cai said, quiet as ever but with a firmness to his tone. “On that note, perhaps we ought to get started?” Ophelia gestured at the table, indicating that they should sit. “I am at your disposal.” * * * * * Cai usually didn’t take the garden path to get to the room where he instructed Ophelia in Low Courdonian, but today duty had called him to a different part of the compound, and while he’d been able to settle things in enough time, today he would needed to focus on speed over familiarity to make it to their lesson in time. Naturally, the garden was quite a bit worse for wear. Not what Cai would call ugly; the trellises and poles and plots were all designed with shapes and colors that showed themselves when the flowers faded in midwinter. But this year was particularly bad, and more of all the garden’s infrastructure was showing than usual. The drought had not receded in the slightest. In fact, it was getting worse, spreading farther and farther. Cai hoped things didn’t get so bad that their water situation started to resemble Courdon’s; he knew from experience how miserable it was to live in such an arid province. Cai had been thinking about Courdon more often lately, and it wasn’t just the drought putting it on his mind. Giving lessons in Low Courdonian was starting to bring things back that he’d more or less just shunted aside in favor of focusing on the future. It had been a little draining, at first, though Cai was careful not to bring that into room with him. He’d assumed he would need to keep reminding himself of that during the lessons themselves, but, oddly enough, that hadn’t been the case. Ophelia kept him moving very quickly, picking up the language much faster than Cai had learned Kythian - though that made sense, the half-elf was a linguist. More than once she had remarked on similar bits in grammar or a root word to those of other languages she knew. Sometimes the connections she made were to words related to concepts Cai had never heard of before; Ophelia hadn’t been joking when she said she liked learning all sorts of things.It had only been a few months, and while Ophelia wasn’t yet fluent in the language, she had quite a chunk of basic material to keep her busy when she returned to Nid’aigle. Cai’s gaze flicked downward at the thought. He was not precisely looking forward to the half-elf’s departure. Not that there was anything to be done about it, or that it made much sense that it should feel so disappointing - the whole point of teaching Ophelia the language was so that she could return to Nid’aigle and help runaway slaves when they came through the city. All the same… He was pulled from his rather morose thoughts by the sound of voices coming into earshot. Cai listened, but couldn’t quite make out the words around some sort of accent - it was unfamiliar, but pretty, soft and a touch musical. … Was it just an accent? Cai listened harder as he continued to walk closer, slowing his steps a little to mute the rap of his boots against the cobblestone path. No, he didn’t think so - none of those words sounded Kythian. A different language? I wonder… Cai picked up his pace a little, and finally, through the gaps in a trellis shaped like a roosting bird, saw a familiar black-haired woman and a less-familiar man wearing the green of House Jade. The man had long, pointed ears like Ophelia’s, though his were much more so. Cai wasn’t close enough, nor was it quite bright enough, to see whether his eyes had the same shimmering effect as the half-elf’s. Cai approached slowly, giving the two plenty of time to see him coming should they want to stop their conversation before he got too close. Just because Cai didn’t understand it didn’t mean they would be comfortable with him listening in. The man noticed Cai first, and following his gaze Ophelia caught sight of Cai as well. She waved to him amiably, and after a few more words in the unknown language, broke away from the Jade and walked towards the fireknight. The elf, for his part, turned to walk back towards the manor. “Hello, Cai,” she said cheerfully. It had been about four months now since she’d arrived in Solis, and during that time she’d come to know Cai as well as ever he let anyone know him. He was a reserved person, not saying much and choosing his words very carefully when he did speak. But in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, he’d shown himself to be a very intelligent, thoughtful person. It was obvious that he cared a very great deal about what they were doing, even if he didn’t show it openly. And as they’d spent more time working together, he’d gradually opened up a little- not becoming chatty or anything, but willing to talk to Ophelia at some length about topics beyond what was expressly necessary for the language lessons. The half-elf found herself warming to Cai. The way he held his thoughts and feelings close to his chest reminded her a very great deal of her older brother, Sieg, and sparked a similar sort of protectiveness in her. As she drew close enough to talk comfortably, she said, “Sorry, did I keep you waiting? I hadn’t meant to lose track of time, it’s just been a long while since the advisor was back to Nid’aigle so I was catching him up on the doings.” “You’re quite all right - I don’t think you’re late, but if you are, I am as well. A brief situation with the fireknights needed my attention, and this route was closer than my usual one.” Cai glanced in the direction of the parting Jade elf. “I couldn’t help overhearing a little - was that elvish the two of you were speaking?” Ophelia nodded, “Yes it was. Since my mother was human and my father an elf, I have spoken both languages since I first learned how to talk.” She chuckled softly. “Actually, according to my parents, when my brother and I were at our littlest we often got the two languages hopelessly tangled together into an indecipherable pidgin that only we and our parents and grandparents fully understood.” “In fairness, I imagine it’s quite easy for a child not to easily distinguish between two languages,” Cai said with a small smile. Belatedly, he realized that ought to have applied to him as well - but slaves learned very quickly which words were meant for them and which were not. Ophelia laughed, “No, I suppose not. In order to make the distinction more clear, our mother made a point to talk to us mostly in Kythian, while our father mostly used Elvish- so we would learn to association Kythian with humans and Elvish with elves. Though obviously both of them could and did speak both languages.” She gave a rather sad smile. “We always knew we were in trouble because our mother would yell ‘You get in here right now!’ in Elvish- perfectly articulated Elvish, I might add. She only ever enunciated perfectly when she was singing and when she was very, very angry.” Cai nodded slightly, pushing away a grim thought that yes, people could be quite articulate when they were angry. He noticed the sadness in Ophelia’s expression, and took a moment to compose a proper way of asking that he hoped would ask the question without obliging her to answer. “Well, is all well in Nid’aigle?” “As far as I was aware last I was home,” she replied, surprised by the question. “Things have been a little frustrating for the orchard keepers what with the drought, but that’s the case everywhere in Kyth these days- and it’s not nearly so bad as in Kine. Why do you ask?” Evidently he’d been too subtle. Looking ahead, Cai admitted, “You seemed a little upset. Perhaps I misinterpreted.” “I… oh,” Ophelia winced a little. Had she really been that obvious? She considered trying to dismiss it, but she’d known this man for four months now- he deserved the benefit of honesty. “I suppose the topic of my mother is a… sore one. She and I had a falling out over… over her reaction to my father’s death. I haven’t seen her since I was sixteen.” It was much more than Cai had expected to hear. On reflection, it did explain a few things, but they had not really been Cai’s business. “I’m sorry, Ophelia. And forgive me for prying; if it’s a sore topic, I won’t press it.” The half-elf smiled, her blue eyes sad. “Thank you, Cai. I might tell you more about it another time but… it’s a long story, and requires quite a bit of backtracking to explain it properly.” She laughed somewhat self-mockingly. “Besides I seriously doubt you want to hear me complain about my sad, horrible circumstances given… the reason I’m here and the fact that you know as well as I do there are people a lot worse off.” “That doesn’t rob you of the right to feel sad about your circumstances,” Cai objected quietly, his gaze flicking to the wispy clouds above. He mentally debated his next remark, wondering if it was appropriate to bring up. However, Cai suspected Ophelia had already nearly mentioned it herself. He kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “There were plenty of people in Courdon worse off than I was, but I don’t think anyone but the slavelords would say my decision to leave was selfish or weakness.” “Of course it wasn’t,” Ophelia replied almost automatically, then she realized she’d more or less confirmed Cai’s point and shook her head. “It takes courage to venture into an uncertain future without really knowing what you’ll find there. That certainly isn’t weakness, and it isn’t like one man could have liberated all of Courdon.” Her eyes narrowed somewhat, and she looked down at the hem of her dress. “I just feel sometimes as if I am the most selfish, cowardly person I know. My father and brother dedicated their lives to protecting Nid’aigle and the rest of Corvus from the slavers. I watch they and their comrades fight, and I hear stories of those who were almost hauled over the border before they were rescued… and of those for whom rescue was too late. The elves have long, long memories- some of them I know personally carry slave brands, ones that probably don’t exist anymore because they got them hundreds of years ago. And still I am…” Her voice caught, and she clenched her teeth for a moment before continuing. “It just feels petty. And yet what she did, it hurt me so much at the time… I’m not making sense, I’m sorry.” “It’s all right,” Cai said, alarmed concern making him speak a little more swiftly than he would have normally. Ophelia was normally so cheerful and self-assured - she could make jokes about herself, yes, but Cai had gotten the sense those were more toward personality traits some might see as problematic, but that she was comfortable with. Not anything like this. “Ophelia - if one man can’t save all of Courdon, than one woman should not be expected to save all of Kyth. No one holds me accountable for not taking all of the refinery slaves with me when I ran.” Except me, Cai thought, but it was a thought easily dismissed for the moment. “No one should hold you responsible for protecting the entirety of Nid’aigle.” He paused for a moment to compose his thoughts again. There was a pressure to speak quickly, but rushing to try and slap a solution together was not going to help anyone. “What you are doing here is important. It’s just as important as what the knights are doing. If those who try to escape are taken back, or die in anonymity in the swamps, it reinforces everything the slavemasters told us - that there is nowhere to go and no one who will help, and you will die suffering, as you were meant to, because you are only a slave, and that is all.” He managed to keep his voice level and flat, as if he were reading a passage from an academic book. “Learning Low Courdonian proves them wrong. If the slaves who pass through your city can make it to freedom, the slavemasters lose. Eventually there might be enough of us that we can do something - perhaps go back for others, or find a way to negotiate the treaty so the knights can go beyond the border in pursuing slave-raiders.” He finally paused for a long moment, aware that he had spoken far, for more than he usually ever did at once. He could count the number of times he had gone on at this length about something...well, not on one hand, but certainly fewer hands than all his wing combined. Ophelia blinked, surprised as Cai was by how much he had spoken. He was normally reserved, and said only as much as he needed to say. Then, a small smile quirked at the corner of Ophelia’s mouth, and she sighed. “I know in my head that you’re right,” she said. “And I suppose if I actually can use what you’ve taught me to be of some use, maybe I’ll finally be able to convince my heart of it too. I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you but…” she hesitantly reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, with a wan smile. “Thank you for listening and reminding me I may be part elf, but that doesn’t mean I’m superhuman.” Cai dipped his head briefly, relieved to have been helpful. He was surprised by the touch on his shoulder, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Briefly, he wondered if she had purposely chosen the shoulder without a brand, but that was another thought he sliced away. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry you’ve had to feel that way.” “It’s not your fault,” Ophelia said with a shrug, taking her hand back again. “I’m just glad to finally be able to do something about it. Though… I admit, I will miss this when I go home in two weeks. I know I’ll be back again to continue in May, but all the same, I’ve enjoyed my time here and the lessons.” Nodding, Cai agreed, “I’ll miss it, too.” He felt...not happy that Ophelia was also not looking forward to leaving, but maybe...relieved, that he had made it worth her while and that she still seemed to want to return in the spring. ...I should change the subject, he realized. At least by a little. “Still, I’m sure it will be nice for you to have the comforts of home again. I’m given to understand that Solis has many fine places for visitors to stay, but I suspect they wouldn’t compare to a city tended by people who can live for centuries.” Ophelia laughed at this, her good humor returning. “That’s true to a certain degree. The elves are… I guess perfectionists is a good way to put it? They live for a very long time, so they have a lot of time to dedicate to making things as perfect or near to it as they possibly can. Of course that also means they can have a bit of a superiority complex, but nobody’s perfect eh? It really is a beautiful city though. It’s in the middle of a forest, and all the houses are overgrown with plants and flowers so that from above they might be mistaken for hills. Not much at all like Solis, which is still beautiful but in a more artistic way.” Cai did his best to picture such a place, though it was difficult to imagine houses so overgrown they appeared to be hills, yet remained functional. That might explain how runaway slaves wandered into it so frequently. Rather than commenting on that, Cai merely remarked, “That sounds like a very delicate art, one that must take a great deal of care. Is it all for beauty’s sake, or does the potential use as camouflage play a role in it? Houses that look like hills would be very useful in avoiding or surprising an enemy, I would imagine.” “Well admittedly it does help when gryphons from a certain somewhere come to call,” Ophelia remarked dryly. “But mostly it’s for the esthetic. Elves have a strong fondness for nature. They don’t like to clear away the forest any more than they have to, and they tend to view people and animals as sort of… equals, I suppose? Not in that people are animals in the sense that they’re worthless, but more so in that no creature is more or less worthy of living and being happy than any other. Some animals hunt others to survive, and that’s in their nature, but respect and reverence must be had for all creatures to maintain the world in balance. Or so the wisdom goes.” Cai considered this, thinking in particular of the phoenixes and his experience with them. But that wasn’t quite the same thing, he supposed - it sounded as if they meant all animals, and people, no matter how intelligent or not, ought to be treated well. He could sympathize with that, at least to a point; Cai rather liked most animals. “That’s an interesting philosophy,” he said at length. “I’ve heard very little about how humans ‘ought’ to interact with animals - besides phoenixes - beyond using them for food and labor and as pets.” What he had heard gave him reason to ask, “Do the elves abstain from eating meat, then? I’ve been told some priests avoid eating birds, but I believe that’s more in the resemblance to Lord Woo than a sense of maintaining a balance.” “Nah,” Ophelia replied with a chuckle. “They are just careful not to hunt in excess of what they actually need, and everything from the slain animal is used for something practical. They don’t like the trophy hunting that nobles do sometimes, but they’ve no qualms about eating meat. The logic is that they, like wolves, bears, or hawks, are predators, and eating meat is what nature intended for them. Actually we have something of a festival on the midwinter solstice that involves wearing a mask fashioned to look like a predator animal and going on a hunt, which is followed by a big feast.” “I’m not fond of the habit of trophy-hunting, either. It seems a waste of an innocent animal’s life, all to have its head glaring back at you from a wall.” He listened to Ophelia’s description of the festival. “...The midwinter solstice? That would be around the time the Corvids are celebrating Woomas, yes?” The half-elf nodded. “Yes, it is. Actually after the treaty between the elves and the Jades was signed, part of our agreement was to allow missionaries to set up in Nid’aigle. Some elves are Wooist, my family included, but there was some dispute between the elves and the missionaries over the midwinter hunt being some form of heathen animal worship.” The woman shook her head, looking bemused. “So these days it’s incorporated into the twelve days of Woomas, with the hunt taking place the day before the Woomas feast, and the feast… on the feast day. It was a compromise that allowed us to keep our ancient tradition while appeasing the Corvid ideology. Fortunately we were able to get them to back down relatively quietly by waggling the word ‘tradition’ in their faces.” Ophelia laughed suddenly. “I keep saying ‘we’ like I was part of the debate, but all of this was centuries before I was born. I’m just accustomed to the elves speaking of things as if they were there and personally involved- because in a lot of cases they were.” “They are one of your people, I believe it’s permissible to use ‘we’ even if it wasn’t you, personally,” Cai said with a slight shrug. “Considering their love for history, I take it the Corvids have a great interest in your city’s citizens and their long memories?” It occurred to Cai, not for the first time, that he didn’t know if half-elves lived as long as full-blooded elves. It made his stomach knot a little to think about; either way would be difficult, he imagined. Cai had not asked about it the first time he had realized this, however, and nor was he going to ask about it now. That was a heavy subject, and probably not really his business. “Some do,” Ophelia replied, oblivious to the unhappy direction of Cai’s thoughts. “Especially historians. But the trick is getting the elves to talk- and getting a translator who is willing to relay what they say for whoever’s interested. It’s a little trickier than you’d imagine. The thing about languages is that they change, very gradually over time. So an elf who learned Kythian, say, two hundred years ago, can try to talk to a Kythian alive today and he might as well be speaking a foreign tongue. So our translators either have to spend time with humans almost constantly to stay up to date, as my father did, or new ones have to be trained all the time.” “Languages change?” Cai considered that. “I suppose that makes sense...you would need new words for new things and ideas.” “Yes, that too,” Ophelia agreed. “And of course people will come up with shortened or slang terms that gain traction and become the norm over time. Other neighboring languages can influence things as well- often border zones between two countries will share a lot of terms that aren’t heard elsewhere in those countries. And when an empire conquers another country, obviously the two languages will merge a bit over time.” In a lowered voice she added, “Actually, I’ve noticed a few of the words you’ve taught me of Low Courdonian sound very similar to words I’ve heard of Lyellian, Kythian, and even Elvish. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the slave dialect came about from people that were stolen from other countries being all forced together and having to try and make themselves understood.” “You mentioned hearing similar root words before,” Cai said in a similarly low voice. “That would be a reasonable explanation for the similarity. Perhaps the first slaves were various captives and conquered people trying to imitate High Courdonian? Or,” he amended, “what would have just been Courdonian at the time?” “Entirely probable,” The half-elf said. “There would have been ideas that the original Courdonian had no words for, or sounds that the Courdonian language had which were hard for the captives to make, and over time the mispronunciation became a feature of the Low dialect rather than a mistake.” Her mouth curled wryly. “And of course the ‘true’ Courdonians would have had a superiority complex about this, that the ignorant slaves couldn’t properly speak their language. Over time the distinction would become an enforced one, a way to draw a line in the sand between the classes.” Ophelia shrugged. “It’s just a theory, mind you, I’d need access to historical records to confirm and the chances of the ancient Courdonians documenting the evolution of Low Courdonian are just about nil, but… well linguistics is my field of study, so I like to theorize.” “They wouldn’t have bothered, no,” Cai agreed. “The best I would expect anyone to find would be a journal in which a slavelord complains about the sound of the language. Unless, I suppose, a High Courdonian linguist took an interest in it. I suspect not, however, and I assume his peers would ensure none of that evidence was around to be discovered. Theories may be all we ever have.” Ophelia smirked, her blue eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe I’ll scandalize the Courdonians then, and write the first ever scholarly manuscript on the Low dialect of Courdonian. Once I’ve learned more of it, of course.” Cai smiled. “They would certainly be appalled. Contemptuous that you had wasted so much time on a slave language, but still appalled.” It was rather a pity she couldn’t actually do such a thing, at least not yet, without revealing that there was an escaped slave somewhere and putting herself, her city, and Cai in danger. Perhaps someday, though… Returning his attention to the conversation at hand, he remarked, “I’m sure it would be an interesting study, though. Something like a very large puzzle, finding which parts of the language came from which people.” “It would be,” she agreed. “But I’d need backing to carry it off, since such things don’t happen for free. And ideally I’d need expertise on all of the nations from which Courdon draws slaves. Lyell, Mzia, Thyell, Mzian slaves from Cerrin… I love languages, don’t get me wrong, but I’m only one person.” She tilted her head with a grin. “Still, it’s interesting to hypothesize about. I wonder what the enkis would say if someone suggested that Low Courdonian has a lot more culture and historically interesting evolution behind it than High.” Frowning, Cai said, “They would be indifferent, at best. More likely they would simply inform you that Low Courdonian is merely a dumbed-down version of High Courdoninan, and not worth your time to study. Nor should you suggest that something of the commoners and, gods forbid, the slaves, be somehow better than something of their class.” “Well it’s fortunate that I don’t care about the opinions of liars, thieves, and oppressive tyrants then, isn’t it?” the half-elf remarked dryly. “Maybe I’ll start feeling like the Courdonian culture is worth respecting when it earns my respect. Regularly attacking my home and kidnapping innocents is not going to endear them to me.” She shrugged. “Meanwhile you’ve helped me, at no benefit to yourself, and not just with the language lessons. I think I can see who is more worthy of my respect.” Cai let out a slow, quiet breath, and was silent for a moment - a little long, even for him. Finally, though, he looked back at Ophelia with what was for him a fairly soft expression. “Thank you, Ophelia. ...I’m sorry - you were trying to joke and I turned it into a rant. That was...not my intent.” Ophelia had tensed a bit when Cai fell silent, worried she had offended him somehow. But she smiled at his words, and shook her head. “You’re entitled to be bitter after everything you’ve lived through, Cai. I should probably take at least part of the blame for making snarky jokes about a legitimately tragic, horrid situation- humor is just how I process things like that, alas. But I know when to be serious. If you want to talk about it, I’m willing to hear you out. Holding things like that back just makes them build and fester.” Cai looked away, back toward the half-dormant, wilting garden. “I could talk for days and still not be done,” he murmured. “It isn’t one thing, or even one event, it was fifteen years of it. And that’s if I was able to count the years properly.” He thought for a moment, expression flat as he pushed away memories he hadn’t really wanted to recall, but finally shrugged slightly and admitted, “I wouldn’t know where to even start. And in all honesty, Ophelia - you don’t want to know everything that goes on there.” And certainly not if you know people who have been taken there, who are enduring this now...you don’t need that on your mind. Or your conscience, he thought, remembering her earlier guilt over not being able to do anything to stop the slave-raiders. The half-elf’s gaze flicked to the scars on Cai’s chin, and her face clouded as if with memory. “Alright,” she said, her voice very soft. “I can respect that. I’m sorry, if I overstepped or pushed too hard.” “It’s all right, you didn’t do either. I’m not offended. It just isn’t something I can adequately explain without taking a very, very long time.” He finally turned back to her. “You’re only here for two more weeks; it would be nice, I think, if your last memories of here weren’t of me telling you about Courdonian atrocities.” “That’s fair, I suppose,” Ophelia agreed with a smile. After a moment’s thought, she angled her head in the direction of their meeting room. “For now I think we’re overdue to get started with the practice. But perhaps if you want to give me good memories to leave Solis with, later on you could tell me what a baby phoenix looks like.” “A baby phoenix?” Cai was a little surprised, but he was not about to resist a change of subject at this point. “Very well - I will say they’re more conventionally attractive than normal bird hatchlings. But you’re right, we are running late.” Ophelia gestured for Cai to lead the way. “You’re in charge, oh wise instructor. And Cai… I really am sorry. I just don’t like to see my friends upset.” Cai froze, feeling for a moment like his brain was stuck - and then suddenly everything kicked back into gear at a breakneck pace. He was half-surprised his stomach didn’t jerk from the sudden change - oh, no, there it went, swooping like he was riding a diving phoenix. “I - Thank you, Ophelia.” A slight pause, but then, “I don’t, either.” “You alright?” Ophelia asked, frowning at his reaction to what, as far as she could tell, had been a relatively innocuous statement. “Yes, I’m fine,” Cai said, motioning for Ophelia to join him as he started toward the room. In truth he was more than fine, but he didn’t think showing that would be a good idea. Ophelia would probably be more unnerved than anything by Cai reacting like an excitable puppy - or perhaps more appropriate to his occupation, a lonely phoenix hatchling - to an admission of friendship. Pull yourself together, he thought, with the mental equivalent of a deep breath. “Speaking of your baby phoenix - I would need to get permission from my Lieutenant once we’re finished with the lesson, but you would likely find it nicer to see a baby phoenix than to just hear me describe one. By the time we’ve caught up, and I’ve gotten permission - and I assume you would want to have a meal during that time - it ought to be late enough that training drills should be over, and the mews will be quiet.” The half-elf was surprised by this offer, but then her face split in a wide grin. “If you think no one would be bothered by it- yes. I think I’d like that a very great deal.” |
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Post by Shinko on Feb 21, 2015 11:52:19 GMT -5
A Chance to Help - Part Two The drought had not ended by May of 1310, and the rains had not been nearly frequent enough to harm Solis’s mosaics and murals as much as it did in other years - but this was a Corvid city, and Lord Woo’s feathers would fall from his body and leave him naked as a plucked chicken before the city gave up on its traditional festival. Cai certainly wouldn’t argue that the people needed something fun to break up the worrying over the drought as it continued to linger and grow worse, even in Corvus.
He was, in fact, very glad the Restoring of the Walls hadn’t been cancelled - it was possibly Cai’s favorite Corvid festivity, if only because it catered to interest in shape and form. The mosaics in particular reminded him a bit of his tile puzzles - except instead of trying to make one shape out of the pieces of another in as few moves as possible, this was making a much, much bigger shape out of very small parts, and had to balance color and texture and placement to boot. And, quite simply, the murals were pretty to look at; phoenixes and other magical creatures, mages casting vibrantly-depicted spells, birds of all sorts, historical scenes...Cai didn’t always go to the festival proper, but he almost always made a trip on his own sometime after the bustle had died down, to restore his memory of the murals and mosaics tucked farther into the city than Cai usually ever went, and of course to see if any new works of art had been created.
Today, however, was not going to be like that. No, Ophelia had talked him into going into the thick of it, to enjoy the entire festival and not just the aftermath. The idea of having someone to attend the festival with actually made the whole thing seem more appealing than it had before. And it would be nice getting to spend some time with Ophelia outside lessons in Low Courdonian.
Cai could already hear the bustle of people gathered in the streets as he left the fireknight base. He was never quite sure how to feel about being in crowds; while he had been surrounded by people his entire life, both at the refinery and in the fireknights, every so often it occurred to him that there were dozens of people getting a look at his burns. It was ridiculous to think bounty information would travel this far north after this long - the Armels weren’t going to keep pouring money into finding a single runaway refinery worker for over a decade - but all the same...if he was found to be branded by slave-hunters, they wouldn’t shy away from taking him back.
Or trying to, anyway - Cai had been trained in basic combat, and had a phoenix who wouldn’t pause to consider politics. Possibly other fireknights would try and help, though that was bound to get them into trouble with Courdon. It won’t come to that, anyway, Cai thought, very firmly pressing those thoughts out of his head. This was going to be an enjoyable day, and he was not going to ruin or tarnish it by fretting about slave-hunters who were not going to be in attendance. Cai set his sights on the tall steeple of a church at the edge of the town proper, where he and Ophelia had agreed to meet.
Elsewhere in town, the half-elf was making her way towards that same church. It had been about a two and a half weeks since Ophelia returned to Solis to continue her lessons in Low Courdonian with Cai. She’d never attended one of the city’s famous Restoring of the Walls festivals, but she was interested to see what was going to happen. And the half-elf was always up for an excuse to cut loose and have a little bit of honest fun- life in Nid’aigle was often very somber and serious, with the elves preferring solemnity in their celebrations over gaiety.
A somewhat mischievous part of her was also curious to see how the normally introspective, reserved fireknight would conduct himself in a festival setting. Though Ophelia had no intentions of bullying him into something he was uncomfortable with, she certainly hoped he would be willing to drop some of his usual seriousness and really enjoy himself.
The atmosphere of the city was one of excitement. While part of Ophelia felt a little bad that the Corvids were having a festival when Kineans were starving… well, certainly it wasn’t as if the food stalls here were overflowing anyway. In fact they were decidedly sparse for such a major celebration, a sign of the times. She drove the guilt from her mind as best she could. She couldn’t fix all the world’s ills, as Cai had pointed out to her a few months before. The festival was happening, drought or not. She might as well enjoy it.
Dismissing these gloomy thoughts from her mind, she came around the corner into the church square. It took a bit of searching to find the very short fireknight over the heads of the crowd, but finally she spotted the familiar dark skinned face and smiled.
“Cai!” she called with a grin, waving a hand to catch his attention. “Over here!”
Being shorter than most everyone else in the crowd was something Cai had almost forgotten about, but it was definitely irritating. On a positive note, however, that meant fewer people at direct eye-level with his face. Fortunately Ophelia was able to find him in good time; Cai smiled back at her as he headed her way.
“Good morning, Ophelia - are you ready to enjoy your first Restoration of the Walls?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “That’s something that humans do a lot better than elves- the elves really don’t know how to have a proper party. So what goes on? Is there anywhere in particular we’re meant to go?” With a lopsided grin she remarked, “It seems in this, as in most things, you are the teacher and I am the student.”
“You would figure it out just fine on your own, I’m certain,” Cai assured her. “There isn’t much formality as to where we’re supposed to be, so long as we respect the barriers put up while mosaics and murals are being worked on. Speaking of, I wanted to ask if there were any particular murals or mosaics you might like to see or help restore; I can’t guarantee it will be worked on, but we can make sure to be in the general area when the professionals come around so that you can get a chance to assist.”
Ophelia thought about it for a bit, then she said, “Well there’s one along the road that leads south from St. Nephrites that is designed to look like a river, with the shadows of various water creatures from the swamps and springs silhouetted against the water and overhead views of birds that look to be flying over the water- what about that one?”
Cai nodded. “Well, that one I can guarantee will be repaired - most of the art in Solis is damaged by the wind and rain, but with that one being walked on, it gets attention every year. They’re likely going to save that one for closer to the end of the day, to give the stones a night to settle before being walked on again. It’s worth the wait, though - it’s a beautiful mosaic, and there’s almost always enough of it that anyone who wants to can help.” He paused, mentally calculating something. “I believe this is one of the years they’re planning to add another shadow or bird to it as well. I might be wrong, it’s been a few years since I was at that restoration.”
The half-elf brightened. “It would definitely be worth seeing if they did. And I don’t mind a wait until they start- we can always poke around the rest of the city in the meantime and see what else is going on. I mean it is a festival, not just a city-wide volunteer effort, so I presume there will be things happening besides repairing the artworks. Especially since there was so little damage last year anyway.”
“There will be,” Cai assured her. “There are vendors selling little novelties - artists, mostly, to fit the theme - a few woodcarving contests and exhibitions, a few of those artists demonstrating their work, games for children, things like that. Oh, and some of the historical and story-based pieces will have accompanying performances; some of them are just dry readings, but a good number of them put extra effort and have a scripted reenactment, or some kind of demonstration. A few years ago, they had some fireknights demonstrating the use of a lance, for the mural of the Emberwing Championship near Jade manor.”
Cai paused a moment to take a breath. That had been a lot of talking, he needed to slow down and actually let Ophelia have a few seconds to process before Cai raced on to the next thing. “In short, yes,” he said with a slightly abashed smile. “There should be plenty to occupy ourselves with in the meantime.”
Ophelia couldn’t help but giggle at the somewhat embarrassed expression on Cai’s face as he realized how much he was talking. “So it seems,” she replied, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I imagine I could come to see this event for several years in a row and not see everything there is to see. Why don’t we start with the crafting demonstrations then? That could be interesting to watch, especially if the presenter has a flair for showmanship.”
“That sounds fine to me,” Cai agreed. “And the presenters do generally seem to enjoy putting on a good show for the crowd, so I don’t think you have to worry about being bored.” He motioned for Ophelia to come along as he started leading the way toward the square where the carving demonstrations were generally held. “And do stop me if you see anything interesting - it’s your first Restoration festival, you ought to see and enjoy as much as you can.”
The half-elf nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that- and by the same token, don’t be afraid to sing out if there’s something you want to stop and see.”
“I’ll let you know,” Cai promised.
The two of them arrived in the square to find that a wood carving demonstration was just wrapping up, and a young woman was taking over the performance area. She was dressed in robes that marked her as a student at St. Nephrites, the mage college of Solis.
“From the high mountains of my native region of Rindfell, I bring you a tradition that we have held dear for hundreds of years,” she began, putting a good deal of flourish into her words. Pulling out her wand, she pointed to the table and said, “Glacius!”
A block of solid ice at least three feet tall materialized on the table. The young mage put her wand away, and then took out two more conventional implements; a wooden mallet, and a chisel. She started chiseling away at the block of ice, all the while spinning an elaborate yarn about the history of the practice of “ice carving.”
“I’ll admit,” Ophelia remarked to Cai, in a hushed tone so as not to appear rude. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Usually it’s too hot in Corvus for ice to form at all, let alone enough to sculpt with. I wouldn’t have imagined this sort of thing could be done.”
Cai nodded in agreement, shifting slightly to see better though the gap between the people in front of him. “I would have thought ice would be too soft for carving. Wood seems so much more solid, but if you use the wrong kind, it can break or crumble.” He watched a moment more, trying to guess what exactly the mage was carving. “It’s quite pretty,” he remarked eventually. “It’s redundant to say it looked like frozen water, but it genuinely does look like very still, shaped water.”
“It really is a beautiful effect,” Ophelia agreed. “Like crystal, but melting just enough to give it a different sort of sheen. And it’s a lot more transparent than crystal as well.” She scrutinized the shape for a moment, then a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Ah, I see what she’s doing- it’s not a full carving with the entire block, she’s just carving out the front to make a one-sided picture. Probably so she doesn’t have to spend all day on it and hog the square. I think it’s a wolf’s head.”
Cai studied the block again, and now that Ophelia had clarified, he could see that was indeed what the mage seemed to be doing. At least, with regards to the size of the carving; he would have to take her word on its subject. “I haven’t seen a wolf before. But I think you’re right. Now that you say, it looks a bit dog-like.” Not quite the same, but that was probably to be expected. Remembering what Ophelia had told him before about elves living very close to nature, he asked, “Have you seen a real wolf?”
“Not up close,” she replied. “But yes, from a distance sometimes. I hear them more than I see them- they sing, especially at night. To call to others in their families, to celebrate a successful hunt, and so forth. It’s actually really nice to listen to.”
Her mouth quirked up somewhat at the corner, and she added, “I haven’t seen any wolves up close, but… I did make the monumentally intelligent decision to try and pet a bear cub my brother and I found in the forest when I was nine. It went about as well as you probably can guess.”
Cai turned to look at her. “I don’t know much about bears, but I know most forest animal mothers don’t stray very far from their cubs. You weren’t hurt, were you?” he asked, though given Ophelia’s comment, Cai was not optimistic the answer would be ‘no’.
The sardonic look on her face confirmed his guess before she even spoke. “I was- got a nasty swat on the back. Fortunately even back then, at eleven years old, my brother already had the rash courage that carries him through as a knight now. He flung a stick at the bear and redirected it’s attention to himself. I got our father, and he managed to get the bear off both of us.” She gave Cai a smile. “Don’t worry about it, that was years and years ago, and a healer fixed me up almost immediately afterwards. And I certainly never did anything quite that stupid ever again.”
“Yes...I imagine that’s the kind of mistake one only makes once.” A nine-year-old and eleven-year-old temporarily fending off a bear - Cai was impressed. “I’m glad that the damage wasn’t permanent.”
“As am I,” Opehlia agreed. “At the time I was terrified out of my wits, but I lived. I prefer to look back on it with amusement, and make fun of my younger self for ever even considering that touching a bear cub might be a good idea. Sieg certainly proved his mettle that day, even if it was mostly his fault we were in the woods to begin with- he wanted to go on an adventure. But I did go along, when I could have told him no, so I’m not blameless and I won’t pretend I am.”
She looked pensive. “I think you might like him, if you ever met him. He’s very affable, for the most part, though he keeps his thoughts and emotions mostly to himself. And he’s a very capable knight, even if he’s prone to rashness.”
Cai nodded. “If he has reason to be in Solis, I certainly wouldn’t mind meeting him.” He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her somewhat serious expression; usually that was the sort of thing she would suggest with a smile. ...Maybe he was reading too much into it. Although that is exactly what I thought last time she seemed unusually upset, and I turned out to be right, he thought. Unfortunately, this time he wasn’t sure how to ask about it. Or if he even should.
Trying to get a handle on the conversation with which he might be able to steer it in some direction, he asked, “I didn’t ask when you first came back, did you get a chance to see your brother? I presume as south as Nid’aigle lies, the knights don’t get as much rest in the winter as I’m to understand more northern armies do?”
She chuckled. “No rest for the wicked, no, but I still saw him plenty. We’re unusually close, even for siblings. See, the thing about elves is they don’t have a lot of children. It’s a biological thing to do with the long lifespans and not overpopulating. In general Nid’aigle never has more than four children in the city at any one time, if any. When my brother and I were growing up, there was only one other child, a fullblood twelve years older than Sieg. He had little to do with us being so much older, so we really only ever had each other to play with. Given that, we’re still best friends as adults, even if he drives me crazy sometimes, as siblings do. I make a point to check in on him at least once every few days when we’re both in Nid’aigle.”
“Aah. I can certainly imagine that being lonely - though I see why there would be so few children. It’s similar to the phoenixes, I imagine. I believe all the phoenix hatchlings in Corvus right now are reborn phoenixes, not genuinely brand new birds. Although,” he added, “I believe there’s a female in one of the southern cities that they suspect is going to lay an egg sometime soon.”
“Huh, I had wondered about that,” she remarked. “The phoenixes and breeding that is. It makes sense. Though if it’s really so rare for new ones to be born, I imagine that southern phoenix is all anyone is talking about in whatever mew she’s living in.”
At that point, the sculptor stood back, holding out her hand with a triumphant cry to reveal the finished sculpture. It was indeed a wolf, it’s nose pointing towards the sun as if it were howling and it’s crystalline shape glimmering in the sunlight. “That really is beautiful,” Ophelia remarked. “It’s just a shame it’ll melt as fast as it will in this heat. Unless she puts some sort of magic on it to keep it cold longer.”
Cai nodded in agreement with Ophelia’s comment on the sculpture’s beauty. “I’d almost like to see a wolf to compare. Hopefully if they let it melt, they’ll collect the water somehow.”
He noticed that members of the crowd were starting to disperse. “Shall we see what else is on display?”
The two set off for other parts of the festival, Cai keeping an eye out for any restorations so he could more accurately-gauge when they would need to make sure to be on the road toward St. Nephrite’s. He eventually spotted them through a gap between two buildings - they had just started the mosaic of a huge stained glass window, and Cai judged they had plenty of time yet to wander around.
The brightly-colored awnings of the vendors stalls had just come into sight over the heads of the crowd - well, to Ophelia, they were probably visible over everyone, most of the glimpses Cai was getting were through gaps between people - when Cai heard a bit of music. He tilted his head, trying to gauge exactly where it was coming from. It didn’t take very long, however, for him to spot a mural that explained why there was music; he pointed out the painting of nobles in fancy dress, much of it in various Corvid House patterns, paired off and dancing in a gold-lit chamber, to Ophelia. “I think there are musicians over there. Should we go see what they’re playing?”
The half-elf’s grin became very impish at this suggestion, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Certainly, that sounds like fun.”
As the two of them approached the mural, they saw that a large space had been cleared around it, were not only where there musicians performing on a lute and several bigger stringed instruments that they were hitting with mallets, but a relatively large portion of the crowd and started dancing to the music. Ophelia covered her mouth, but she wasn’t able to hold back a giggle. “Well it wouldn’t be a proper festival without music and dancing, I suppose.”
She glanced sideways at the fireknight, her blue eyes sparkling in the light of the sun overhead. “Looks like fun; you ever danced before?”
Cai, surprised by the question, answered, “No...I have not.” He’d never really had reason to, and certainly in Courdon he hadn’t had the time or the right. It wasn’t really something he had thought much about before, however. Maybe he should have learned? Well, it isn’t precisely military training; you would have had no need for it.
Ophelia grinned still more widely, then she presented her hand palm up to the fireknight and bowed theatrically. “May I borrow your arm, good sir?”
Cai glanced from the offered hand to Ophelia’s broad grin. Was she asking him to dance? But I told her I hadn’t before. ... I suppose it’s only a dance, it isn’t a thing to get worked up over appearances, but…
Well, if she was asking to dance, then she was clearly comfortable with it. Cai had told Ophelia to point out anything she wanted to see or do, it would be rather unfair to suddenly change that simply because he was a little uncertain. He reached his hand out for hers, bowing his head slightly. His stomach was doing some of the swooping that is usually reserved for accompanying sharp moves on phoenix-back. “Certainly, Ophelia.”
The half-elf laughed, gently pulling Cai out into the open space where people were dancing. “Don’t worry, I’m no dancer either. The form’s not important- just the fun. Just move with the music and you’ll be fine.”
As if to demonstrate she gave an odd sort of spin, adjusting the position of her hand in his so that for that moment only their fingertips were touching- otherwise they’d have gotten tangled together. She winked when she was facing Cai again, sliding her hand further into his again so that the rough calluses and burn scars rubbed against her smoother palm. “It’s fun!”
Well, Ophelia looked like she was having fun, so that was a positive. Cai was not entirely sure what to do with his body, however; he was pretty sure spinning was for ladies, not gentlemen. He also wasn’t positive he could adjust his fingers properly, and he definitely did not want to bend Ophelia’s wrist the wrong way.
All right, Cai, calm down. This is supposed to be for fun, not to impress anyone. He glanced around at some of the other dancers, trying to pick up what they were doing. “I might need a minute to get the hang of it,” Cai said. “Something like this?” He tried a sort of side-step, but it felt too stiff - there should have been more movement in it. His eyes flicked to the other dancers again. ...Oh. He saw the problem.
“Maybe more like…” He reached for Ophelia’s other hand, and when she let him take it, tried the side-step again. Better, he thought, but still not quite right. “I think in this matter, you might need to be the teacher and I the student,” Cai confessed.
Ophelia shrugged, amused. “Try putting more energy into it,” she advised. “Kick up your feet a bit, and put your whole body into the moves. It helps if you really get into the music. Here, I’ll lead for a bit, just follow me and do what I do.”
She tugged him slightly, pulling Cai towards herself as she moved away. Simultaneously she moved sideways to the right, and pulled him so that they moved in a circle around the midpoint of their interlocked hands. The first rotation was slow, to give him the idea, and then the second time she moved a little bit faster, letting her feet tap the ground in tune to the beat of the music.
Cai felt a great deal more comfortable with Ophelia in the lead, though he quickly realized it was going to be difficult to put energy into his movements if he was only passively following. Get into the music, she’d suggested...well, that was probably part of his problem, Cai had let it drift halfway into background noise.
There was a regular tempo to the music, a steady, regular beat that reminded Cai a little of the rhythm of a phoenix’s wingbeats when they found a steady windstream. He noticed that Ophelia was moving to that steady repetition, and he tried as well, after a few false steps managing to match more of Ophelia’s taps than he missed.
Ophelia smiled encouragingly as Cai seemed to be getting the idea. She’d not danced just for the joy of it in a long time. She giggled a bit, and before long she was laughing outright as adrenaline pumped through her and the music sped up in tempo.
“Isn’t this fun?” She asked, her face alight with childlike glee.
Cai was surprised that he could answer, “It’s a bit tricky, but I think I see why people enjoy it,” and offer a genuine smile. It was challenging, especially with the speed of the music changing, but in a way, it was a little like training to fly a phoenix - it had been awkward at first, and there was the worry of getting into more than he could handle, but he’d learned where to put his weight and when, and got his balance, and eventually there had come simply enjoying the movement of it all. It helped that Ophelia was clearly having a very good time, Cai’s inexperience or not.
Ophelia laughed again, and as the two of them came around for a final spin, the music came to a stop. The half-elf backed away a bit, breathless and sweating, but grinning widely. “I’m glad,” she said, panting a little. “I had hoped you would, though I was worried I might be pushing too much. But that was a lot of fun.”
His breathing on its way back to a normal speed, Cai said, “If I had meaningful objections, I would have shared them; don’t worry.” He tucked a lock of misplaced hair back behind his ear. “That was more enjoyable than I would have thought. And I’m glad you had fun, too.”
“People wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t fun,” Ophelia pointed out cheerfully, though it was a little falteringly as she hadn’t fully gotten her breath back. She put a hand that was quivering from both fatigue and adrenaline on Cai’s shoulder to steady herself. “Woo, I need to exercise more, I have been spending way too much time translating documents.”
Surprised by the hand on his shoulder, Cai asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m just perfect, thank you,” she said with a grin. “Just a little bit tired, that’s all. Unlike a certain someone I don’t regularly train to maximize my physical fitness so I can fight bandits on phoenixback. Sorry, is that bothering you?”
“No, of course not,” Cai said quickly, though he assumed by her smile she was teasing. “I suppose my judgement is off, since I’m surrounded by fireknights most of the time. ...Would you like to sit down?” he asked, careful to phrase the question so it - hopefully - didn’t come off as panicking over her being out of breath. “We have been doing a lot of walking and standing around anyway, it might be nice for both of us to get off our feet for a few minutes.”
Ophelia nodded, “Good idea, my legs feel just a bit like jelly. I think there’s a low wall back up the road a bit we can probably sit on.”
The two of them eventually found the wall in question, and with a relieved gasp, Ophelia sat down on it. “I really spend way too much time with my backside in a chair hunched over documents,” she remarked with a chuckle. “But I do not regret that for a minute. I think I probably needed it.”
Pushing himself up on the wall to join her, Cai agreed, “Sometimes it feels good to push to your physical limits.” Voluntarily, anyway. Brushing the thought aside, Cai reached down to loosen his boot so he could take it off for a moment.
“Well dancing by yourself is boring,” Ophelia replied. “It’s a lot more fun if you’ve got someone to share it with. ‘Sides the fact that the elves are… well there isn’t a ton of dancing, at least not as humans understand it. Certainly nothing that high-energy.” She gave a theatrical sigh. “I suppose your Lieutenant would probably object if I kidnapped you back to Nid’aigle to motivate me to exercise more regularly.”
“He probably would, yes,” Cai agreed, pulling his boot off, tipping it to shake out any stray dirt or pebbles, then setting it on the wall beside him. “Even by phoenix, that would be a long trip.” He looked up at Ophelia as he started at the laces of his other boot. “What about elven dancing is so different from the human version?”
“Well in general it’s more… restrained. You never touch more than one hand at a time, and keep your bodies lined up vertically with each other instead of parallel. You take slow, measured steps, even if the music has a quick tempo. It’s more of a ceremony than a recreation, in short. Not especially fun.”
“It does sound very stiff,” Cai agreed. “Is it ceremonial only, then?”
“Yes, generally speaking,” the half-elf confirmed. “It’s not that the elves never have fun and are stiff and formal all the time, they just… approach life very, very patiently. They’re a bit complacent about having centuries to live, so they devote most of their time to practical things or personal projects because there is time enough for fun later.”
The young woman shrugged. “My father always sympathized more with the human perspective. I suppose it’s why he fell in love with a human. I do tend to agree with him in that- life in the human world is a lot more interesting and unpredictable.”
With a thoughtful nod, Cai agreed, “And the ability to change is good as well. Not to imply that individual elves don’t change, simply that the culture would likely settle, unless pushed. Or so I would guess, I’m certainly not an expert.”
“No, you’re right,” she said. “Stagnation is a problem that the elves have to combat. They’re even more resistant to major change than the Jades. A lot of them are rather cold to me because of what I represent, being part human- a cultural fusing, the gradual erosion of Elvish isolationism from other cultures. That and a lot of the oldest ones have a grudge against humans in general for historical reasons, but that’s neither here nor there.”
She shrugged, grinning in Cai’s direction. “The point is, I had a lot of fun just cutting loose like that and doing something silly for the sheer joy of it. I don’t get to a lot, between spending most of my time in Nid’aigle or working as a diplomat. So thank you for humoring me.”
“You’re welcome,” Cai said, smiling back. He was oddly pleased and almost relieved that there was something in Solis that made her happy that she couldn’t necessarily find in Nid’aigle - and then he immediately felt guilty for thinking that. She lived in Nid’aigle, she had a right to be just as happy there as anywhere else. He wasn’t sure what was going on with his emotions lately. As usual, though, he pushed the confusing ones aside for the time being and just said, “I’m glad you had fun. And there’s a few hours yet before they get to the water-road mosaic, so hopefully we can find some more.”
And so they did. Once they’d rested enough, the two of them continued to wander the festival in search of the various entertainments it had to offer. As the day wore on, they saw a number of interesting shows- a mage giving an impressive display of power in front of a mural of an ancient wizard’s duel; theatrical recitations during a poetry competition; and at one point Ophelia even became interested in a stall that was offering instructional displays on molding clay into pots and decided to give this a try, and Cai followed suit. Once they had cleaned the wet clay from their hands, Cai judged that it was probably time to start heading towards St. Nephrites to help with the water-road mosaic.
It was late afternoon by this point, and with the air dry as it was from the drought it was blisteringly hot for Corvus. They stopped just long enough under a shaded awning to drink something cool and sit down for a bit again before making their way to the mosaic Ophelia had asked about. Their timing was just about perfect- the workers were just setting up ropes to block the artistic segment of the road off to anyone but those helping to work on it.
“So is there someone we should report to so that we can find out what to help with, or…” the half-elf asked.
“Not precisely.” Cai pointed to the lines already gathering at the corners of the ropes. “We line up near the side of the mural we’d like to work on, and when we get to the head of the line, they’ll give us a section to work on, and of course some tiles to do the work with.”
Surveying the restoration artists within the long rectangle of rope, Cai noticed a group near a patch of water tiles, motioning toward the ground and making gestures of shape with their hands. “Ah. It looks like they are adding a new shadow or bird this year,” he said. “If you want to help with that part of the mosaic, we’ll need to ask to be assigned there at the head of the line.”
“Sounds straightforward enough,” Ophelia remarked. “I suppose we should go ahead and get into the line now, if we want to get to that part of the restoration before they fill it up.”
Before long, the two of them had been approved to help with the new addition to the mosaic- the artist in charge was explaining that it was to be a type of bird known as a sandhill crane. Most of the tiles were some shade of grey or black, but there were a very small amount of red ones, to make the crane’s crimson crown.
“You ever encountered a sandhill crane?” Ophelia asked Cai as the two of them were given an illustration to show where the tiles they were laying were meant to go and a bucket of the tiles in question. With amusement she added, “Even if you’ve not seen them you might have heard them. They are… very, very loud.”
“I believe so,” Cai said, studying the illustration. “Sometimes on lower flights I’ve seen birds like these. And if they’re loud, they must be the same bird - the cranes don’t very much care for phoenixes flying overhead, and are sure to let us know it. A loud sort of chittering, right?”
“Like someone trying to blow a warhorn with an obstruction flapping around the end of it,” the half-elf said with a nod. “I remember one year there was a huge group of them migrating past Nid’aigle and they stopped by the Silver River for the night. We woke up quite a bit earlier than we otherwise might have liked the following morning. Still, they’re pretty birds. The red cap is quite striking against the grey feathers. Crimson is actually one of my favorite colors, though,” she winked, “Don’t tell anyone around here that. The Jades would likely have my hide for favoring a color their archrivals use.”
“It’s a dramatic effect, certainly,” Cai agreed. “Although I think I’ve been rather spoiled by the phoenixes for color contrast.” He considered briefly, and added, “If you ever needed to justify your choice to the Lord Jades, you could claim to simply admire Iscaria’s phoenixes; they’re red-tipped on gold.”
“I shall have to remember that,” Ophelia said. “It’s impressive the varieties of colors one can find phoenixes in. The Emberwing Championships must look like a veritable rainbow of feathers.” She tilted her head, “What about you? Do your color preferences conform to Jade standards, or are they equally as scandalous as mine?”
“I haven’t thought about it very much,” Cai admitted, taking one of the tiles from the bucket. “But I suppose I’m fairly partial to green. It might be a bit standard for a Jade fireknight, but it’s a nice color.” It was also a color Cai associated with trees, and Kyth had a plethora of them compared to Courdon - even the rough woods the refinery had bordered had often appeared more gray than green. Cai wasn’t quite sure how to articulate that thought without bringing up Courdon, however, and he was reluctant to turn the topic even near his birth country.
Ophelia also picked up one of the tiles, and after inspecting it she gave a soft noise of satisfaction. “Look, they’ve numbers on the bottom of them- for the different colors. We just have to line up the numbers on the walkway with where they are on the sheet. Might be easiest and least prone to mistakes to lay them all out, then go back in with the adhesive after.”
“That sounds reasonable. This is going to be a permanent fixture, after all, we may as well take extra care.”
She put the bucket on top of their example sheet to hold the paper in place, and said, “I just hope the Woo finally gives us a break this year and lets it rain so that the phoenixes won’t be the only green we’re seeing. But I can certainly understand why the color would have a special sense of sentiment for you.” She pointed to his face, adding, “I’ve noticed that you’ve a little green to your eyes as well, around the outer rim. I’ve never seen anyone with two colors in their eyes before- elves never have more than one. It’s a rather striking effect.”
Cai’s heart was suddenly pounding very hard, enough that he could feel the pulse without even trying. It took him a moment to figure out how to respond, words felt...a little beyond him for a few very long seconds. “Oh,” he managed at last. “Ah, thank you. It’s called hazel. The eye color, I mean, of course.” He focused on the tile in his hand. You’re taking this too seriously - she’s commenting on an eye color, something plenty of people - well, humans, I suppose - have. It took a bit more effort than he was used to in order to focus entirely sensibly. “Elves don’t ever have hazel eyes?” he asked. Cai might have asked or elaborated more but he wasn’t quite sure he trusted himself to speak clearly.
Ophelia was a bit worried she’d inadvertently said something wrong or overly forward when Cai didn’t respond at first, but his question diverted her attention before she could ask about it and she shrugged the concern away. “No. At least none I’ve met in Nid’aigle. Humans like to say that elves have eyes like gems, because of the way they glimmer when the light catches them.”
She knelt down on the walkway and started laying down some tiles in the shape they were working on. “The most common colors for an elf’s eyes are dark blue, like mine, amber, like my brother and father, a very deep red, yellow, or a pale, bright green.” She smiled in Cai’s direction sheepishly. “I know more about humans than most pureblood elves thanks to my mother, but I’m not versed in everything, I’m afraid. I had intended that comment as a compliment but I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
“You didn’t say anything wrong,” Cai insisted. “I was just...surprised, is all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel you’d erred.” Carefully setting a tile in place next to one of the ones Ophelia had lain down, Cai added, “You do just fine interacting with humans, from what I’ve seen. It must be very interesting, being able to live in two different worlds, and understanding them both.” Suddenly he felt like he needed to talk as a distraction - Ophelia said she had meant it as a compliment, but...a person with striking eyes? That...didn’t sound like him. This was all very confusing.
“I’ve some practice, at least,” Ophelia explained. “There’s a human town near to Nid’aigle, it’s called Kolanth. That’s where my mother was living before she and Papa got married. It’s interesting, I won’t deny that, and it gives me a unique perspective for viewing both cultures. Sometimes though… I admit I feel a little removed. Part both, but really belonging to neither. Humans look at me strangely a lot of the time because of my ears and eyes, and most don’t even know enough about elves to realize I’m not a fullblood. But the elves… well I’ve said it before. A very great deal of them don’t like humans in general and strongly disapprove of a human and an elf mixing.” Her eyes darkened a bit. “To say nothing of the sorts of reactions that I’ve had to field from conservatives. ‘Freak of nature’ is a kind example of the sorts of things I heard as young as five.”
She realized she’d gone on a tangent and winced. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. It is what it is, and it just means I have a much stronger appreciation for the people who do care about and accept me.”
Cai set down the last tile in his hand, but refrained from taking new ones for a moment. “Still - they have no right to talk about you that way. There’s nothing wrong with being half-elf, or half-human. Even if their excuse was that it’s just not done, it isn’t as if you could help who you were born to.”
Ophelia sighed resting her hands in her lap and letting her head hang. “I know. And I’m not ashamed of what I am, I’m really not. It just gets tiring, sometimes, always having to be on guard and wondering if the person I’m talking to and getting along with will recoil from me in horror when I let slip what I am. As a teenager I very quickly stopped even trying to pursue any sort of romantic infatuations because invariably my half-blood status would discomfit whoever I was talking to. Even if it wasn’t prejudice, it was the question of… my lifespan. Which even I’m not sure about at this point.”
Cai had been able to nod sympathetically to Ophelia’s comment about always being on guard, and the fear of what would happen if they knew the heritage of the person they were talking to. But now things had slipped rather out of his small sphere of experience - he only hoped he could be of some comfort to his friend.
“I’m sorry. I can only imagine what a weight that must be.” He had never dared to ask whether or not Ophelia knew if her lifespan was to be as short as a human’s, as long as an elf’s, or somewhere between the two - and evidently it would have been a fruitless question. Cai looked down at his burn-marked hands for a moment, contemplating his next words very carefully. “For whatever it might be worth - if a person cannot see around your hybridism to see the kind of person you are, they aren’t worth your while, Ophelia.”
The young woman glanced in Cai’s direction, her eyes shimmering in a way that had nothing to do with her elven blood. Then, suddenly, she slumped sideways so that her forehead was leaning against Cai’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a little hoarse but full of absolute sincerity.
Cai, startled, almost twitched in surprise but managed to cut off the reaction before it fully started. Had he just made things better, or worse? Sometimes collapsing was just from relief, but maybe it had been wrong to bring up Ophelia’s life among the elves and humans. Too late for regretting that action now; Cai could do nothing to change it.
It was hard to figure out what to say - and with Ophelia’s head against his shoulder, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on any one thought. Cai did have one idea, and although he wasn’t positive how appropriate it was, it was about all he had at this point. Carefully, ready to withdraw the instant Ophelia seemed uncomfortable, Cai reached up with his free arm and placed it around her shoulders in a slightly-awkward one-armed hug.
She made no move to indicate that she had any objections. In fact, she slowly reached up with her opposite hand, and put in over the one that Cai had wrapped around her shoulders. She sat like that in silence for a few minutes, before finally collecting herself enough to lift her head and smile at the fireknight.
“Sorry, I got a little overwrought there for a minute. It’s… something that bothered me a lot, when I was younger. I guess it still does, in some ways.” She took her hand off of his, and instead put it around his shoulder to briefly return the one-armed hug. “Thank you. So, shall we finish where we left off?”
“Ah - yes, let’s.” He reached into the bucket for another tile, having to physically force his fingers not to shake. Cai tried reading the number and comparing it to the chart, but it was a hopeless endeavor for the moment - he didn’t think he even processed the number when he looked at it.
Ophelia had hugged him back. It made him excited and nervous and confused all at the same time - and no matter how many times he tried to set that aside and focus on the tiles so he didn’t make Ophelia think she’d offended him again, his mind didn’t want to settle down. It liked these feelings, as stomach-swooping and strangely-timed and, probably in all honesty, silly, as they were.
Maybe this is just...a product of my upbringing, he thought. Of course a slave used to being burned and beaten and thrown up against fences is going to have some confusion about how to handle a hug. Maybe even ten years after the fact. It was a weak line of reasoning, but Cai needed something. Later - he’d go talk this all out - very quietly - with Tamir, when he wasn’t going to confuse Ophelia by acting like he’d just had a rock smashed over his head.
“I’m sorry, maybe it’s just my eyes, or their handwriting is odd.” He showed the tile to Ophelia. “Can you tell what number this one is?” It should at least forestall any thoughts the half-elven woman would have that she’d offended Cai again.
Surprised, Ophelia glanced down at the tile and shrugged. “Looks like a two to me. The twos go along the outer edges of the feathers, I think they’re for shading.”
Cai glanced at the tile again. “Yes, I see it now.” It was really a very obvious two, and Cai felt a little embarrassed he hadn’t been able to pick up something that simple. It was a single number, and he’d learned written numbers years ago. He carefully set the tile in place - shading, as Ophelia had said.
Tile by tile, their portion of the sandhill crane took shape, joining with the pieces of other festival-goers to create the entire bird and its shadow on the water. Cai wondered if they had chosen this year to add to the river mural in some gesture of hope that there would be more real water after the Restoration.
Even if they hadn’t, Cai certainly hoped so. It was getting toward evening and there wasn’t so much as a hint of a stormcloud in the sky. A decade in Corvus was enough for that to feel very bizarre.
Finally, after much delicate handling and with a great deal of adhesive, Cai, Ophelia, and the other volunteers were able to stand up, back away, and see the entirety of a very impressive, elegantly-shaded, intricately-detailed sandhill crane.
“I think we did a good job,” Cai said, looking to Ophelia. “What do you think?”
“It looks great,” Ophelia agreed. “I can see why they get the whole city involved in this- it gives everyone a kind of personal attachment to the murals since they’ve all helped to contribute to them.” She grinned at the fireknight. “That was a lot of fun. What do you say we swing by the inn for a bit to grab some dinner before it gets dark?”
Cai smiled and nodded. “I would love to.”
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Post by Tiger on Feb 22, 2015 12:33:09 GMT -5
A Chance to Help - Part Three Ophelia had slept fitfully, her dreams disturbed by images torn straight from memories now seven years removed. A melted, near shapeless blob of white-gold in Anri’s hand. Morgaine sobbing. Sieg, his entire body covered in horrific burns that made her physically sick to look at, screaming and crying and looking at her with eyes that were not quite sane. And under everything, permeating it all, was the smell of cooked meat, burnt metal, and ash.
When at last her eyes opened to the wall of the inn room where she was staying in Solis, she was dimly aware something was wrong. Most everything from the dream visions was quickly fading as her alertness increased, but the smell of smoke and ash was not. In fact, if anything it was getting stronger, making her nose sting and her eyes water. The quality of the light shining through the window was odd, particularly for a mid-June morning in Corvus. Ophelia stood up, walking towards the window to take a look outside. What she saw sent a jolt of pure terror down Ophelia’s spine.
Smoke. A thin mist of horrid, choking smoke had cloaked all of Solis for as far as she could see. That was what she smelled- that was why her dreams had been full of the memories of the last time she’d smelled so much of the sharp tang of burning things.
She couldn’t actually see any fire, but the smoke had to be coming from somewhere. A low moan emerged from her throat, and she had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up at the memories that smell was conjuring. It took all of her self-control to force herself to get dressed calmly, and go down to the common room to find out what was going on.
At first, no one really had a clear answer, except that the fires were nowhere in Solis. Cold comfort that- while it meant she wasn’t in immediate danger, Ophelia much preferred a threat she could see to one that she knew was there and couldn’t pinpoint. Between the rolling of her stomach and the vile taste of the ash coating her tongue, she didn’t have any appetite. Instead she retreated back into her room, trying to get some translating done. She made very little progress- her concentration was shot.
Finally, she gave up trying about midday and flung herself back on the bed, trying to cover her face with the pillow to hide the smell. But it was a fruitless endeavor. The smoke had permeated everything, and nowhere was she really safe from the stench. She kept waiting for it to pass, for the wind to blow it away, or for the fires to manifest fully, but nothing of the sort happened. The longer she waited, the more tension built in her gut, and the more those horrible memories forced themselves to the surface.
Go away, go away, go away, Woo please make it go away…
By mid afternoon she still hadn’t eaten, and between that, her nerves, and barely sleeping the night before, she knew she was a mess. But stewing in her own juices wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Though they’d not arranged for her to practice Low Courdonian today, Ophelia decided to go and look for Cai. By now he’d be done with his patrols for the day, and usually he spent his free time in one of the small public parks near Jade Manor, playing with little shape puzzles. At least having someone to talk to would give her a distraction.
However, when she got to the park there was no one there. She waited for at least an hour, and still he never arrived. Perhaps he’d been hurt on patrol? This thought in mind, Ophelia stood and made her way towards Jade Manor. She couldn’t just waltz into the fireknight barracks without asking, but if she waited maybe someone who knew Cai would pass and could tell her where he’d gone.
Eventually, she finally got answers- the smoke that was cloaking the city was from a series of massive wildfires that were raging across Kine, miles and miles away. The third wing- Cai’s wing- had been sent to try and evacuate the Kineans and fight the fires.
This information made Ophelia’s stomach drop. The emotions she’d been fighting to keep under control all day spiked inside of her, forcing the half-elf to bolt from the confused fireknight who’d given her all this information lest she collapse outright in his feet.
No, no, no, no, no, not again, Woo not again…
It was always fire. It always came back to fire. Fire had killed her father, had destroyed her brother’s body and his peace of mind, and had broken their family irreparably. The entire infirmary at Nid’aigle’s military barracks had reeked of smoke and burning things for weeks, a smell that scorched it’s way into Ophelia’s nose until it seemed to be all she could ever smell, even after she’d left the building for the day. Even years later Sieg still woke up from horrific nightmares, screaming about fire, and burning, and being trapped…
And now Cai, the man who’d become a very dear friend to her, was out fighting fires so bad that the smoke from them was carrying across the border into an entirely different region. The realization of what could happen made Ophelia’s heart twist. Cai already had horrible burn scars on his face- what if he returned with even more of them? What if he didn’t come back at all?
Please, let him be okay, please Lord Woo! I can’t do this again, I can’t!
When Ophelia had made it back to the safety of the inn room and locked the door, she immediately collapsed on the bed, sobbing with frustration and helplessness. She didn’t sleep at all that night.
The next morning, she went out to the barracks again, waiting just beyond the grounds of the fireknight domain where she could see the landing field. Not having eaten and barely having slept in over twenty-four hours, she felt dead on her feet, but she knew she’d never be able to sleep and couldn’t even think about food. Mental images of Sieg’s burns, fresh and raw and oozing, kept playing over and over again in her head. Hours she stood out there, waiting and hoping- desperation mounting with each passing second.
It was midafternoon when Cai and the third wing finally reached Solis. The sight of the tall, white peaks of the city’s tallest buildings would have earned a sigh of relief from Cai, had he been anyone else. He did, however, give Tamir’s neck a light pat before looking to the rest of the wing. They all looked tired despite the night of rest they had taken, but all of the phoenixes looked ready enough to land.
It still felt like an age before the barracks came into view, but at last the wing started downward, and the phoenixes touched down in a reverse of their flying v-pattern. Cai waited until everyone had landed and the birds had settled before taking off his helmet, shaking his head a little to let the relatively cool Corvus air get under his hair, and looking around the barracks to gauge the scene. There were some tight-faced generals, a few fireknights, the mews-hands poking their heads out of the phoenix mews… There was also someone just outside the barracks proper, but even with the distance, it took Cai only a few seconds to realize who it was. Ophelia?
As soon as Cai had taken off his helmet, showing that he was soot-streaked and sweaty but to all appearances unhurt, Ophelia felt like as if a horrid vice that had been holding her upright, squeezing her until she was about to burst, were suddenly removed. She breathed a sigh of relief that emerged as more of a sob than anything else. All the strength ran out of her and she collapsed against a nearby wall, sliding down it so that she was sitting on the ground with her face buried in her knees and her fingers clenched in her hair. Tears of relief flowed down her face. He’s okay, he’s okay, it isn’t like last time…
Cai could only see that Ophelia had collapsed against the wall, but that alone worried him immensely. What was wrong, what had she seen? Glancing around, Cai couldn’t see anything, but...
“Shahar!” Anders called, diverting the Right Wedge’s attention. “I need to give my report; see to it that the others all get their mounts put away and have a healer check them over, just to be safe. Then go get some rest- you’ve earned it.”
Cai turned to him, nodding automatically. “Aye, Lieutenant.” He always felt guilty pushing aside concern for people - but in the military, that was often necessary for maintaining a logical view. Anders was right; the other members of the wing and their phoenixes needed to be seen to. Ophelia was strong, she would be able to manage on her own until Cai was able to find her later. Or so he hoped.
It was a few hours before Cai could leave the base; ensuring that every member of the wing, including the Lieutenant, and their phoenixes, including Tamir, were in good shape took a great deal of giving orders and traveling back and forth between the mews and the barracks. He wished he could take the rest Lieutenant Escalus had advised, but first, Cai needed to see Ophelia. He stopped only long enough to wash the surface layer of soot off his skin, change clothes, and check in on Tamir one more time - the phoenix was already sleeping - before heading into Solis. Everything still smelled faintly like smoke, and the whole city seemed subdued, including the inn. Cai asked the innkeeper for Ophelia’s room, and when he reached the door, knocked quietly. He hoped she was here.
A faint creaking of the bed inside the room as Ophelia stood up announced that she was. The half-elf had been trying to sleep, exhausted after two days on no food and little rest, but she was still far too keyed up for it. When she peeked out of the door to see who it was, the dark rings under her eyes and the rather bedraggled state of her hair and clothes made plain that she was badly out of sorts. But she still managed a wan smile when she saw who her visitor was.
“Cai, hello,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “D-didn’t you just get back into town from Kine? I thought you’d be resting about now.”
“A few hours ago, yes,” Cai said, a little confused - she had been right there when they’d arrived, why did she ask as if she didn’t know? Now he wasn’t sure if he ought to bring up her collapse or not. He held off on that for the moment. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get a message to you before we left; there just weren’t enough free hands or time.” Taking in Ophelia’s wrinkled clothes and obvious exhaustion, Cai frowned a little and asked, “Are you all right?”
Ophelia, who’d been about to dismiss his apology for not warning her with the reassurance that both her father and brother were military and she knew that sort of luxury was a rare one, faltered at his question. Her hesitation before she finally muttered, “I’ll be fine,” was a marked one, and her gaze was turned inwards as she said it. Swallowing hard, she added, “And i-it’s okay about the warning. I know you have to prioritize. Fire is…” she faltered, and then hurriedly added, “It does a lot of damage.”
After a moment, Cai said, “I appreciate you understanding. ...You say you’ll be fine, but you’re not right now, are you?” He probably hadn’t really needed to make it a question; Cai didn’t think anyone would accuse him of jumping to conclusions if he’d made it a statement.
The half-elf glanced into Cai’s eyes, then she sighed and backed away from the door, leaving it open as she walked over to the bed and sat down on it, burying her face in her hands.
“...No,” she said finally. “No, I’m not. I’ve… not really eaten anything since two days ago, and I’ve not slept since the smoke started. It’s… b-bad deja vu.”
For half a second, Cai was irrationally afraid she was going to close the door on him, but she left it open and he hoped that meant he was allowed across the threshold. He quietly closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. His stomach squeezed with guilt and empathy - he could understand being nervous about the smell of smoke. Cai wished he could have been here to help her through it, or at least be a friendly ear.
It still didn’t quite explain what the collapsing had been about. Maybe just a combination of stress and not eating or sleeping, though. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? If you want to talk, or send me down to the kitchens to bring something up for you to eat, or anything else you think will be useful...I’m here.”
Ophelia dug her nails into her scalp. “I don’t think I can eat right now. My stomach is in knots. I keep seeing Sieg in my head, when he… when he first came back from the battle where our father was killed. It was a d-dragon. There was nothing left of Papa to bring home, all they had was… metal slag that used to be his armor and wedding ring.” Her voice hitched, and she pulled her feet up on the bed so that she could push her face into her knees. “Sieg was… it was awful, his skin was just gone, they told me he was trapped under the debris of a burning building for hours in his plate mail, and I c-could smell his burns it was like… like cooking meat, I…”
The young woman wasn’t able to get another coherent word out. She was trembling, her eyes burning with tears and her throat closing as she tried not to vomit.
To say Cai was shocked would have been an understatement - he knew her father had passed on, and considering he was an elven knight, had suspected it was not by any peaceful means. But a dragon...Cai had never seen one, only the occasional wyvern, but he had heard...
...Oh gods - was it the one that was attacking while I was in training? He knew the fireknights had played no part in that battle; phoenix-fire would do little to nothing against a dragon, and a dragon was big enough and fast enough to pose a serious danger even to phoenixes. All Cai had heard was vague rumor...up until now.
Cai put an arm around Ophelia’s shoulder, hoping he didn’t smell too much like smoke. “I’m so sorry, Ophelia.”
Ophelia was completely incoherent by this point, all of the stress that had been building up in her over the past two days as well as years of having to throttle back all of the horror of what she’d witnessed to act as a rock for her brother boiling out of her. When Cai put his arm around her shoulder, she leaned into him, burying her face into his shoulder and sobbing. Her entire body was shaking from the stress and fatigue. It was too much, just too much…
Gradually, the wracking sobs passed, and Ophelia was able to calm down somewhat. Her eyes hurt from crying, and her nose was stopped up, but she was able to mutter a thick, “‘M sorry,” to Cai, though she didn’t seem quite ready to try and sit up just yet.
“It’s all right,” Cai said quietly, not moving, either. “It’s no wonder you were having trouble eating and sleeping with all that coming back to you.”
“It… it wasn’t just that, though that was part of it,” she admitted. “I’ve been uneasy about fire ever since what happened, my brother he… he still has scars. Horrible scars, all over his body. Every time he takes off his shirt I remember how he almost died, and it’s…”
She shifted her head somewhat, so that she could look up at Cai’s face. “When they told me that your wing went out to fight the fires I… it was…”
Cai finally made the connection - it was a moment before he trusted himself to speak without letting the rush of emotions that realization rapidly hit him with trickle into his voice. “You were worried I was going to get hurt?”
“I… I kn-know you’re strong and you can handle yourself,” she said. “But the smoke was so bad all day, and I just… I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, Cai said, “You don’t have to apologize for worrying about me. I won’t pretend my duties aren’t dangerous sometimes. You know better. ...And I appreciate your concern.” After a moment, he added, “If it makes you feel any better, though, fireknight armor has plenty of fire-resistant enchantments on it.”
Ophelia sighed, finally pushing herself into an upright position again. “I had never seen anything that horrible,” she admitted. “I was about… fourteen I think? Sieg blamed himself for Papa’s death. With that and how bad he was burned, he went crazy for a while. Between Sieg being traumatized and Mama being too bound up with grieving to notice anything else I just took over. It was awful, and the smells and sights made me sick to my stomach, but I just swallowed it all because Sieg needed me to be strong for him. No one else was going to be.” She shook her head. “I just didn’t want to have to live through that again. Someone I care about coming home broken and burned and… I’m going to keep seeing those images in my sleep for as long as the smell of the smoke clings. I hate fire, and smoke, it just makes me think of all of it again.”
“I can understand that,” Cai said quietly. “It took me months with the fireknights to stop remembering things whenever I smelled smoke from the firedrills.” This explains why she was so insistent about not being in the camp when the phoenixes set themselves on fire.
The half-elf winced, guilt flitting across her face as she glanced at the scar on Cai’s jaw. “S-sorry. I’d forgotten.”
She looked away. “You and the others were heroes yesterday, and you saved so many lives, and here I am falling apart and projecting my personal issues. You should be able to be happy about what you accomplished.”
“Ophelia - you don’t have to put on a brave face for my sake. I was only intending to sympathize, not lord my suffering over yours. What I endured doesn’t make what you’ve endured less valid.” He paused again to consider how best to phrase what he wanted to say. “I want to be here for you, Ophelia.”
A lump formed in Ophelia’s throat, and she looked at Cai with an expression somewhere between disbelief and desperate pleading. Nearly seven years of trying to keep herself and her brother going after their family shattered, entirely alone, made the young woman hesitate for a long minute. Then, the tension visibly went out of her body, and she smiled.
“I… I think I’ve needed that for a long time,” she admitted. She hesitated, wanting to lean against him again, but she realized that it wasn’t just out of a desire for emotional support. She wanted that contact for it’s own sake, for the simple comfort that came from being close to him. The half-elf was confused by the impulse a split second, then she shook off the hesitation, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I think you did, too,” Cai said, putting an arm around her shoulders again. He hadn’t thought about it much in the heat of the moment, but now he was starting to wonder if he was being too touchy. Part of him - okay, a lot of him - liked being this close to her. Just...watch yourself, he thought warningly. Maybe it was in part because he was tired and his usual reservations were eased.
“Cai,” Ophelia said softly after a time, “How did you desensitize yourself? I know Sieg had to spend months just forcing himself to be around fire so he wouldn’t… it was pretty bad. But it’s not really the same for me. I don’t completely lose my head, I just remember, and it scares me. I get sick to my stomach.”
Cai thought a moment. “Just being around smoke and fire with nothing bad happening, I suppose.” His time in Courdon had probably actually helped there - the only things slaves were allowed to be phobic of was angering their owners. He decided not to mention that. Instead, he said, “It probably helped that it was all coming from phoenixes. As intimidating as they look...even back then I realized very quickly they weren’t going to hurt me.”
Ophelia chuckled, shaking her head. “Well those baby phoenixes you showed me certainly acted more like puppies than birds, but aren’t the adults regularly trained for combat? I know that warhorses at least are generally aggressive and hard to handle. Sieg’s has bit him more times than I can count.”
“They’re war-trained, no question of that,” Cai said. “But phoenixes are different. From what I understand, you train a dog or horse to be aggressive - at least, more so than most of its kind - to make it a war animal. Phoenixes don’t seem to need that.” He was silent a moment, though clearly still thinking. “They’re a bit more human-like; they can be aggressive toward enemies in battle, but they can turn right around and be kind to an innocent victim. I don’t know if they can somehow sense people’s motivations, or if they just have a gift for reading human body language, but around people they trust…” Cai said with a small smile, “they can still act very much like puppies.”
A thought occurred to him. “Maybe,” he said slowly, “you ought to come meet Tamir.”
The half-elf blinked, sitting up and looking at Cai in confusion. “Your phoenix? Well I don’t see why not, I’m willing to trust him if you do, but I’m… not really sure how that will help.”
“Maybe, once you know him better, Tamir can help you learn to think of other things when you smell smoke. Or at least get you more used to the scent and nothing bad happening alongside it.”
Ophelia shivered, biting her lip. She could see Cai’s point, and it was hard to deny after yesterday that what had happened to her father and brother had left a deep mark on Ophelia. But it was… just terrifying, the idea of being close to the same thing that had ruined her life, let alone watching a living creature setting itself ablaze.
Sieg forced himself to get used to it, she reminded herself, And he was a lot worse off than you are. He was the one who was actually burned.
And there was Cai too. When she’d first come to Solis to learn to speak Low Courdonian, she’d never imagined that she might befriend her teacher, let alone that she’d come to trust him more than she’d let herself trust anyone since her mother’s betrayal, except of course Sieg. But this was different from her brother. Ophelia never felt right leaning on Sieg for emotional support; he was so fragile, even if he didn’t show it, and she knew he needed an anchor far more than she did. But in spite of what Cai too had been through, he was calm and steady, and under that impassive mask he wore on the surface he was incredibly sympathetic and earnest in his desire to help.
“I hope you can be patient with me,” she said finally, her voice very soft. “I don’t think this is going to happen in just a day. But… alright. It’s worth a shot, at least.”
“There’s no rush,” Cai promised. “I wouldn’t expect you to be able to overcome what you’ve been through in a single day. And we won’t start until you’re ready. Certainly not today - you need to eat, and we all - you and I and Tamir - need rest. But when you think you’re ready, let me know.” |
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Post by Shinko on Feb 23, 2015 8:04:49 GMT -5
A Chance to Help - Part Four A few evenings later, with a good portion of the fireknights at their off-base homes or out enjoying the city, Cai let Ophelia into the compound and the mews. The phoenixes had been left for the day, so there would be nobody around unless a fireknight came in to take their phoenix for an evening flight - or if there was an emergency, but that was not really something Cai could prepare for.
“I think all we ought to do tonight is get you and Tamir acquainted,” Cai said as he led the way to his phoenix’s pen. “I imagine things will be easier when we start with the fire if you know and trust him first.”
The half-elf nodded, rubbing her palms against the front of her skirts. They were sweating, and though she hated herself for it she knew she was trembling.
Tamir had already poked his head out of his stall by the time Cai and Ophelia reached it; the phoenix made a few cheerful flute-like noises and nudged Cai’s chest with his beak. Cai pat his beak, earning a few soft twitters, though the bird’s gaze kept flicking to Ophelia curiously.
“Come as close as you like,” Cai offered, putting a firm hand at the underside of the phoenix’s beak. “I’ll keep him from trying to nudge you; that seems to be his favorite greeting.” Despite the slightly scolding nature of the words, Cai’s voice carried more warmth than he normally allowed it. This was not missed by Ophelia, who felt her mouth quirking a little at the corners despite her nerves. It was obvious the fireknight held a great deal of affection for his phoenix.
Setting her shoulders and reminding herself that Cai had already promised Tamir wouldn’t be igniting today, she slowly approached the phoenix. She didn’t really know anything about raptors, but with most animals she knew that you weren’t supposed to make eye contact because it would be construed as a challenge, so she deliberately averted her gaze. Trying to suppress a wave of nausea, she held up a single, visibly quivering hand for the bird’s inspection.
“Gentle, Tamir,” Cai warned, keeping his hand under Tamir’s beak as the phoenix turned to investigate. He didn’t actually touch Ophelia’s hand with his beak the way Cai had thought he would, however; Tamir just tilted his head to peer under the half-elf’s hand and piped inquisitively. He seemed concerned already, Cai thought - though no wonder, given how badly Ophelia was shaking.
Ophelia swallowed, unsure what she should do now. The baby phoenixes she had seen were bouncy and energetic, but obviously Tamir was far more mature. She didn’t really know enough about phoenixes to gauge what the bird was thinking as it looked in her direction. Offering Tamir a tremulous smile she said, “H-hello there, Tamir. I’m friendly, I promise.”
Tamir tilted his head the other way, but after a moment’s scrutiny, lifted his head and bumped her palm with his beak. Cai said, “You can give him a few pats, if you like. Don’t worry about hurting him; someone tried hitting him on the beak with a knife once and it didn’t leave a mark. Or you can pet his feathers if you like, just try to keep it so he can see where you’re hand is going.”
The half-elf obediently ran her hand up Tamir’s beak, laughing a little breathlessly. “I imagine it would take an idiot to try and hit him in the face- that’s like swinging a kitchen fork at a sword and expecting not to be stabbed.”
She carefully traced her hand up the phoenix’s head, to his feathery crown. “They’re cool,” she remarked, somewhat surprised. “The feathers, I mean.”
“They are,” Cai said simply, watching Tamir’s gaze follow Ophelia’s hand as far as it could. “You wouldn’t expect it with how thick their feathers are, but I suppose they need to have some way of keeping cool.”
He gave Ophelia another minute or so to adjust to just touching the phoenix, before suggesting, “Try scratching under his feathers, just behind the beak. Similar to how you would scratch a dog’s chin, but a little more gently so you don’t bend the feathers shafts.”
Ophelia glanced sideways at Cai inquisitively, but did as she had been instructed and began to gently scratch Tamir’s face. Her efforts were rewarded with a trilling, swooping note from the phoenix, who quickly tilted his whole head so Ophelia could get to the spot more easily. The half-elf giggled at Tamir’s reaction, obligingly continuing the scratching. The phoenix’s trill hadn’t gone unnoticed, however, and a second later a second bright green head appeared over the wall of Tamir’s stall, giving a long fluting note that might have been a greeting.
“Ah, h-hello,” Ophelia said, startled. As if in answer, the new phoenix bobbed its head, making beckoning motions with it’s beak.
“That’s Mirja, Lieutenant Escalus’ phoenix,” Cai explained. “She’d like attention as well, it looks like. ...Do you want to try petting her? She’s very friendly.”
“I don’t know,” Ophelia asked with a laugh, “I wouldn’t want to make Tamir jealous. I wouldn’t have expected the Lieutenant to have such an outgoing phoenix though. He seemed very… taciturn when I met him last autumn.”
Cai considered how best to respond to this, stroking Tamir’s neck. “Lieutenant Escalus tends to be very stern, yes. He has his reasons - but I think, if not for those, he would be much more like Mirja.” Recalling the argument he and the Lieutenant had gotten into over who was going to stay in the little village in Kine and risk their life - more so than was normal, anyway - Cai added, “But he is a good commander, and a good man. If he was cold to you when he spoke, I apologize. He was, at least in part, trying to protect me.”
That last surprised Ophelia, and it took her a moment to put together what Cai meant. “Oh! Of course, he has to know where you come from if he knew you could teach me Low Courdonian…” She looked thoughtful at this, still scratching Tamir’s face absently as she pondered it. “That makes sense, in retrospect. If I were an accomplice to a slave hunter, asking for someone who knows that language would be an easy way to covertly find a runaway.” She smiled crookedly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. My brother’s commander, Anri Hasek, is a very cold person at face value as well. But Papa and Sieg both speak the world of her.”
She laughed softly, smiling at Cai crookedly. “Come to think, you were rather reticent when we first met as well. I’m glad I was able to gain both the Lieutenant’s trust and yours- I didn’t come to Solis looking for a friend, but I wouldn’t trade minute of the past few months.”
Cai smiled back, trying to ignore how his stomach was doing the swooping-thing again. “Neither would I. ...Thank you.”
Ophelia’s chest filled with an odd sensation of warmth at the expression on Cai’s face when he said that. Fortunately, she was spared having to figure out what had prompted this by a loud, insistent trill from Mirja. The female phoenix was looking directly at Tamir, making a series of piping calls at the male bird.
“What’s she doing?” Ophelia asked, frowning.
Cai looked between the two phoenixes. “I’m not sure. Usually they get along fine.” Although Mirja didn’t sound angry, just...insistent? Cai wasn’t sure. Tamir piped sharply back and lifted his head again, looking between Cai and Ophelia. The raptor shifted from talon to talon, ruffled his wings - then nudged Cai’s shoulder, as if to push him toward Ophelia. Cai kept his footing, though just barely. “...What are you doing, Tamir?”
The phoenix ruffled his wings again and piped sullenly. Ophelia watched this, her expression reflecting complete bafflement. “What was that abouuuuu-!”
She was cut off mid-word as something soft nudged her from behind, making her stumble forwards. While they’d been distracted by Tamir, Mirja had come around the side of the stall behind them. Ophelia, lacking Cai’s military training, wasn’t able to keep from being pushed by the much bigger, stronger bird, and found herself being shoved directly into Cai. Mirja gave a noise that sounded like a chirrup… and at the same time, suspiciously like a chuckle.
Cai quickly shifted a foot out behind him so he could keep his footing again, and did his best to try and catch Ophelia. “Tamir, Mirja - stand down!” It was the first time he’d used that order...although Mirja was clearly not on any sort of violent attack, and Tamir had done nothing new since trying to push Cai. “I’m so sorry, Ophelia, I don’t know what they’re doing.” This was supposed to help Ophelia feel more comfortable around phoenixes - and the birds were decidedly not helping. What if they drove her off before she and Cai even had a chance to try to start desensitization?
Mirja jerked back at the order, and a second later she drooped, looking like a puppy that had just been scolded. She gave a very soft fluting noise, lowering her head on her long neck so that she was looking up at Cai instead of down. Tamir looked away, edging back toward the corner of his pen.
Cai looked between the birds, utterly baffled. “...All right. I don’t know what that was, but I don’t think they meant it aggressively. Are you alright, Ophelia?”
The half-elf was watching the two birds, equally bewildered by their behavior. She realized a second later that she was still standing more or less on top of Cai and jumped backwards with a small noise of surprise. “Ah, yes I’m fine. I think. She just startled me.” Ophelia frowned, looking at the birds again. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They know they’re in trouble,” Cai said. “Phoenixes don’t like their people being mad at them.” Cai stepped forward and held out his hands, palm-out, one toward each phoenix. “Show me you can be gentle?” he asked, shifting his tone to be soft and coaxing. Tamir made a low hoot-like noise and stepped forward, pressing the top of his head into Cai’s palm. Mirja lifted her head slowly, stepping forwards and leaning a feathery cheek against Cai’s hand. The female looked in Ophelia’s direction, and gave a very sad peep.
“Um…” Ophelia tilted her head, even more confused now. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”
“Probably.” Cai slowly scratched the feathers on Tamir’s head, and turned his hand against Mirja’s cheek so he could rub it with his knuckles. “Maybe Mirja’s just in a playful mood tonight, and got Tamir infected with it. Usually they don’t shove, but...I’m not sure.” He might have to ask around later. Cai had spent an extra two years more than most fireknights his age with the phoenixes, and so it was rare there was a question about them he couldn’t answer that someone else could - but it would be worth looking into.
Ophelia looked at the birds pensively. She’d definitely not been expecting that, but… well the reason she was afraid of phoenixes was because of fire, not overly aggressive play. Neither of them had ignited themselves, nor tried to. The half-elf glanced down at her finger, where she had a very small scar from when her mother’s cat Rust had been a kitten, and bit her in a fit of exuberance while playing. Rust was otherwise a very tame and docile cat… maybe it was the same thing?
She looked up at Tamir and Mirja again, the image of contrition, and she sighed. Steeling herself, she walked back towards them, stepping around Cai. Mirja stepped back a bit, looking almost afraid. “Easy, Mirja,” Cai said reassuringly. Ophelia looked after her, and then she put out a hand to the female phoenix. Mirja hesitated, looking to Cai as if to ask permission.
“Go on,” Cai encouraged, putting a bit of extra positivity into his tone, though he was ready to step in and act quickly if he needed to. Mirja lifted her head a bit hopefully, and took a step towards Ophelia. The half-elf tensed a bit, bracing instinctively in case the phoenix tried to push her again. But instead, the bird just put her head down atop Ophelia’s upraised palm. Ophelia scratched the bird’s chin, near the beak, and she leaned into the affections with something like a sigh.
“I still don’t really get what all that was about,” Ophelia remarked. “But she does seem legitimately remorseful about it, if nothing else.” She laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing somewhat. “That was a bit more exciting than I was ready for.”
Cai was relieved the phoenixs’ antics hadn’t put Ophelia off the raptors entirely. “I’m sorry about that. I should have taken into account that Mirja would want attention as well. You’re right, though, they are genuinely sorry.” He reached and untied the a pouch at his belt, and momentarily stopped petting Tamir to pour some of its contents into his hands. “Do you want to try giving her a small treat?” Cai asked, showing Ophelia the grapes he had just poured into his hands. “I don’t know that they’ve really earned them today, but it will help make friends.”
Ophelia accepted the fruits, though she shook her head with a smile at Cai’s words. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault. Anyone with eyes could have told you weren’t expecting that either.”
She held out the grapes, though mindful of making either bird jealous she put a little into both hands so that both raptors could have some if they wished. Mirja delicately scooped the grapes into her beak, tossing her head back to crush them between the mandibles a few times before swallowing. Tamir plucked up two or three grapes at a time before pausing to swallow, and looked to Cai hopefully when he’d finished off the handful. The female phoenix, meanwhile, hesitantly lowered her head again, and, glancing at Cai several times in case he objected, slowly moved the crown of her head towards Ophelia’s chest. Too slowly to be about to shove again. Ophelia tensed, but the bird only rested her crest feathers against the young woman’s chest.
Cai watched Mirja carefully, but it seemed whatever had enticed her to push Ophelia in the first place had been well and thoroughly overridden by guilt. “That’s much better, Mirja,” Cai said. “Ophelia, how are you doing?”
Tamir nudged Cai’s shoulder - much more lightly this time - and twittered plaintively, eyes flicking to the bag of grapes. As if he realized he was probably not in Cai’s best graces at the moment, Tamir nuzzled the top of his head against Cai’s neck, so that a good portion of Cai’s largest burn scar was buried in feathers. “All right, all right.” Cai relented.
Ophelia giggled as she watched this, gently running a hand down Mirja’s neck. “I’m alright. It wasn’t really the phoenixes in and of themselves I was worried about, honestly, it was the fire. Neither of them has even tried to ignite so as long as they’re just being playful I’m… I can overlook a bit of exuberance.”
Her expression became more gentle as she added, “Seems like Tamir knows you very well- and exactly how to get your forgiveness.”
Cai nodded. “I didn’t speak any Kythian when I first came here. Unless I wanted to talk to the fireknights who were teaching me in High Courdonian, Tamir was the only one I really talked to. And he wasn’t the most social of phoenixes when he was younger - I’m not sure why he took a liking to me, but he did - so we spent a lot of time together even before I’d started training.”
Ophelia’s mouth curled, and there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Maybe he could sense that under the mask you were a great big softy.”
“Hm?” Cai glanced over at Ophelia, confused. “...Oh, do you mean with the treats? I suppose he could have.” Cai ran his hand down the phoenix’s neck as Tamir picked through a second handful of grapes.
“I meant in general, silly,” Ophelia admonished with amusement. “Because you act all serious-faced to most people, but you’re easily one of the most honest, genuine people I’ve ever met. And you just made me turn what was intended as a teasing remark into an actual compliment. I guess you can play me as well as Tamir can play you.”
Under Ophelia’s hand, Mirja’ made that strange, chuckling chirrup again.
Cai looked up, startled. He didn’t know what to say - part of him wanted to apologize, explain that he hadn’t been fishing for compliments, another knew he should probably just thank her and actually take some praise for once, another part wanted to return the compliment but didn’t know how to put what he thought of Ophelia into proper words…
“I - I’m - Thank you, Ophelia...you’re...you’re so kind,” he managed at last. After a few seconds, he found something of his proper voice again. “I’m sorry - I keep doing that when you give me compliments. It’s...I don’t mean anything against you by it, I promise.”
Ophelia was definitely startled by his flustered response- and it wasn’t like she was unaccustomed to people who didn’t know how to take compliments, her brother being who he was. Though now that Cai mentioned it, he had reacted with similar bewilderment when she’d commented on his positive traits before. She shook her head, an affectionate smile playing across her face.
“Maybe you need to be desensitized too,” she suggested. “Shall I elaborate on your miriad of good qualities until you start taking it for granted that you’re a good person worthy of praise?”
“Y-you don’t have to do that,” Cai managed. A miriad of good qualities? Okay, yes, she presumably was his friend for legitimate reasons, but…
And she wanted to desensitize him? When her problem was clearly more important? “It’s not the same thing - being complimented is just…flustering.” He’d tried to pick a word that wouldn’t make Ophelia more intent on fixing his uncertainty toward praise. “It doesn’t affect my quality of life. Your situation does, and you shouldn’t have to make me feel better while we try to fix it.”
“I… alright,” Ophelia said, a little hurt. She’d honestly been trying to defuse the situation by making a joke, but Cai immediately changed the subject back to her. And she was realizing that he did that every time she tried to coax him into talking to her about his insecurities or frustrations. While she was grateful he wanted to help her overcome her fear of fire, the half-elf couldn’t help but wish that her friend would trust her a bit more. She had spent the last seven years giving emotional support to her brother- it almost physically hurt to see Cai getting so upset and uncomfortable, and know that she was causing it, even if only in part.
Cai bit his tongue and his gaze dropped to Tamir at Ophelia’s hesitant reply. He had messed up, he could tell that instantly. But he didn’t know what else to do - parts of him were twisted and frayed and broken apart because of his upbringing as a slave, and some of that just felt like...like his burns, or his height; there wasn’t really anything he could do to fix them. And even fixing what could be fixed wasn’t a responsibility he should dump on Ophelia. ...But he’d hurt her feelings now, and that wasn’t right, either.
Ophelia had turned her attention to Mirja, stroking the phoenix’s neck a few more times. Once the half-elf was sure she could talk steadily, she then backed up and asked, “So what now?”
Cai had wanted to apologize, but Ophelia asked her question before he could. Cai, though he badly wanted to just hug Tamir’s head, only gave the phoenix’s beak a light pat before stepping away from him, too. “If that’s all you wanted to do tonight, I can walk you back to the inn.” Of course, at this point Ophelia might not want Cai’s company. Pressing that aside, he went on, “After the trouble they caused earlier, I’m not sure any sort of smoke or fire would be a good idea, but...you tell me what you’re ready or not ready for.”
Ophelia glanced at the birds, then she shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow? So long as Lieutenant Escalus showers Mirja with attention before we start so she doesn’t get jealous. For now, I guess heading back to the inn is probably a good idea.”
She watched as Mirja, seeming to realize they were about to leave, walked back out of Tamir’s pen and towards her own. Ophelia kept her eyes fixed on the phoenix, looking away from the fireknight. She felt like there was a weight on her chest. She knew she was upsetting him- he kept going startled and panicked every time she tried saying anything nice to him. It hurt, knowing that, and knowing that every time she tried to offer him her help in the same way he was helping her, she was immediately rebuffed. Maybe… maybe it was like what her mother had said once, that when they first met one of the things that had endeared her to Belial was that she recognized his flaws but assured him she wasn’t going to “fix” them. Maybe Cai didn’t want to be “fixed” either. So do I just do nothing? Never try to offer him a kind word again because it unnerves him so badly?
Still refusing to look in his direction, so he couldn’t see the emotions that she was trying and failing to keep hidden behind a bland Elvish mask, she murmurred. “Cai, I… I’m sorry.”
Cai glanced up at Ophelia, guilt gnawing at his stomach so violently it hurt. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured. “I know I shouldn’t react that way...or, part of me knows it, the other half...” He felt the temptation to cover his right shoulder, his branded shoulder, with his hand, despite the already adequate cover of his sleeve. He didn’t, just half-crossed his arms, squeezing the opposite elbow with each hand. Cai almost felt like he should try to explain it, the jolt and the clashing feelings and the part of him that whispered quietly that he was not supposed to have this kind of life or these kinds of friends or these kinds of compliments - but he didn’t have the words, not in Kythian or Low Courdonian.
Ophelia was similarly frustrated by the limitations of the words she had to express what she wanted to say. Her Courdonian was limited yet, and finally she switched back to Kythian. “After the life you led for so long, I would be surprised if there had been no lasting consequences. And Cai, I’m not trying to change who you are or force you to conform to some ideal I might hold for how a person should be. The Woo knows I’m not perfect either- I’m selfish, overbearing, and I can be overly blunt and temperamental sometimes. I’m not asking to ‘fix’ you. I just… I want to understand. I want to be able to work with you so we can find some sort of compromise so I can say what I think without it making you feel inadequate or unworthy.”
She finally turned and met his eyes, her expression pleading. “But you keep shutting me out. If you don’t want to talk about Courdon I can respect that, it’s none of my business. But I’m hurting you, and that is my business. I want to be able to be there for you as well, you know.”
Cai swallowed thickly, trying to think - he knew he needed to say something, but he didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t dump this on her, that wasn’t fair, but every time he tried keeping her out, she was hurt, and that wasn’t fair, either…
Tamir suddenly interrupted the momentary silence with a few soft chirrups, and came forward a few paces. The phoenix leaned the side of his head against Cai’s chest, so the bird was still able to look at Ophelia as he reached a wingtip out toward the half-elf, just touching her arm. Ophelia looked down at the raptor’s gold-tipped feathers in surprise, then she smiled wanly and gently stroked Tamir’s wing.
Cai ran his fingers half-heartedly through the feathers under his phoenix’s chin. He had to admit, it felt a little unfair to let Tamir be nice to him, but not Ophelia. And when Cai and Tamir had started bonding, they’d both had problems - but Cai hadn’t forced Tamir away or avoided the bird when he’d been at his lowest. True, Tamir was ultimately an animal and so it wasn’t the same as confiding in another person, but…
“I think I told you before that it wasn’t something I could explain all at once,” Cai said after a moment. “And I don’t want to give you more than you have on your plate already. But I don’t want you thinking I’m angry with you, either.” He stopped to consider his words, and one last time whether he really wanted to do this...and finally, said, “Sometimes it feels very much like I’m two people - one of them is me and everything I’ve been trying to learn since I escaped. But the other one is still just a slave stuck at the refinery. I’ve gotten very good at shutting out that other voice, but sometimes it surprises me, and when it gets hold…” He fell silent, wrapping his arm around Tamir’s neck and ensuring his voice would stay even. “It’s hard to fight what that part of me wants to do. I know it’s been ten years and I should be better at controlling it, but I needed that mindset for so long, and I needed it to be louder than any other voice in my head so I wouldn’t accidentally do something disobedient. And part of it was making sure I didn’t ever feel too confident.” Trying to meet Ophelia’s eyes, he said, “When I can’t seem to take your compliments, it’s because that voice snuck up on me and I’m trying to fight it back.”
Ophelia was silent for a time, considering this. Finally she walked over to Cai, and hesitantly pulled him into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t mean to pry into things that make you uncomfortable, or say things that trigger bad memories. I can’t pretend I really understand, because I’m pretty sure only someone else who’s lived through that would. But I do see where you’re coming from, and I’ll try to be more cognizant of what I say and how it’s affecting you. And for what it’s worth, if you need a distraction to drown out that voice, I’m here. I’m always here.”
Cai had not expected a hug - for a moment, he felt caught by a locking of his brain again as a tirade of emotions struck him all at once. This time, though, he was able to push away the brunt of them, and focus in on the comfort of Ophelia being close, the same feeling he’d noticed with his arm around her shoulder in the inn a few days previous. The movement was slow and careful, but Cai finally raised his arms and hugged Ophelia in return. In Low Courdonian, he murmured, “Thank you.”
The half-elf pulled away after a moment, and smiled crookedly. “Maybe when we’re alone together we should get in the habit of using this language all the time- if it’s more comfortable and familiar for you. It’d also help me master it more quickly. The fastest way to learn a language is to speak it.”
“True,” Cai agreed, but switched back to Kythian to press, “Obviously, we do need to be certain we’re alone…but yes, at this point it will probably give you a better feel for using it in conversation, and for what words you’re missing.”
She reached out sideways to Tamir, who piped contentedly, and gently stroked his head. “I know I’m not always the easiest person to get along with. But I do care about you, and I’m glad you are willing to talk to me. You can take as much time as you need.” She smiled wanly. “Woo knows I’m going to take a long time to get used to being around fire.”
“Thank you. And you know you can take as much time as you need, too, Ophelia. You’ve been patient with me; the least I can do is extend you the same.” |
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Post by Tiger on Feb 24, 2015 12:04:40 GMT -5
A Chance to Help - Part 5 The following day, when the drills and training sessions were finished for the afternoon, Ophelia headed to the fireknight compound. Not to the mews this time, but to one of the training fields- it would be a very, very bad idea to be messing with fire indoors, well trained phoenixes or not.
She was somewhat surprised to find herself the first to arrive, but shrugged it off. Cai would get there when he got there. Trying to force herself to stop shaking, Ophelia sat down in a small grassy patch at the edge of the field, and looked up at the sky. Still not a single cloud in sight… would the drought ever end?
Cai arrived a few minutes later, walking quickly with Tamir in tow. “I’m sorry I’m late - Lieutenant Escalus and I needed to discuss some adjustments to our wing’s patrol and training schedule. We’re hoping we can run a little more efficiently energy-wise, so we can get a bit of a head-start on avoiding water rationing, if it comes to that. It shouldn’t affect your lessons, or our sessions here, but I’ll let you know if that changes, of course.”
The half-elf stood, brushing the dry grass off of her skirts, and nodded grimly. “It just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it? That… that fire might not be the last one we see before the rain finally comes back.”
Her jaw tightened at the thought. How many people had died last time before Cai’s wing could save them? Died horribly, painfully, as her father had? Ophelia felt herself starting to quiver again, and shook her head roughly as if the shake off the unpleasant thoughts.
“Possibly not,” Cai admitted. Frowning with concern, he added, “Are you alright? ...We don’t have to do this tonight if you don’t want to, Ophelia.”
“Sieg did this, and he is the one who was trapped under burning debris essentially wearing an oven for several hours,” Ophelia said, a little more acidically than she’d intended. Forcing herself to take a breath and calm down, she smiled thinly. “I can’t let my idiot brother show me up. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”
“All right then,” Cai said, turning so he could see both Ophelia and Tamir and giving his phoenix the signal to stand. “I’ll give him a vocal command so you know it’s coming. Should I count down, or will that just make it more anxious?”
“Less tension is probably better,” Ophelia admitted, looking up at the phoenix and smiling at him wanly. “My stomach has already been tying itself in a knot for the past few hours.”
Tamir chirped at Ophelia and glanced at Cai, who was still holding his hand in the signal to stay in place. “All right. We’ll start very small. Tamir - right wing.” The bird extended the wing obligingly, and with his free hand, Cai tapped one of the raptor’s primary feathers. “Tamir, light.” He accompanied the vocal command with the matching hand signals, just to be certain the phoenix got the message clearly.
A pulse of light rushed along Tamir’s feathers, and with a soft whoosh, a dull-colored fire about the height of a small lantern flame crackled to life on the single primary Cai had indicated. Cai watched Ophelia carefully, his hand up in the signal for “stand” but ready to shift to get Tamir to stop burning.
Ophelia watched the light run across the pheonix’s feathers with fascination, and though she jumped a little when the flame ignited she seemed mostly unfazed. “I didn’t think they’d have control that fine, to just light one feather,” she commented. “I’m okay with little fires, I mean I have to be, otherwise I’d not get any work done after dark. It’s big fires with a lot of smoke smell that get me.”
Cai nodded. “Perfectly reasonable. I wanted to work our way up is all. Tamir - spread to the next.” Obligingly, the phoenix sent another pulse of gold down his wing and lit a second primary. Cai glanced to Ophelia to gauge her reaction. She only lifted her eyebrows, impressed and intrigued by the display of Tamir’s finesse. “I’ll have him make it higher,” Cai said. “Tamir, raise...one.” The phoenix whistled, and the fire burning on the two primaries jumped a few inches. Ophelia’s shoulders jerked at the sudden spike, and she looked uneasy for a minute, but then she took a deep breath and managed to calm herself down.
“Okay, that startled me, but I think I’m alright,” she said. “How long does it take them to get to controlling the fire so minutely?”
“A few years, but not as much as you would think. Most of the difficulty is in getting them to understand the commands; it’s not quite like the order to stand or spread a wing, where we can physically guide them into doing what we’re asking until they make the connection between word and action. It’s a bit of an exercise in patience for some fireknights, but the more control we have over the fire, the more precisely we can handle certain situations.” He paused, giving Ophelia a moment to continue feeling calm in the ongoing presence of the fire before asking, “Are you ready for him to raise it a little more?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Cai nodded. “Tamir - raise one.” The phoenix lifted and lowered a talon, but Cai gave no indication of giving him a more exciting command, so Tamir obligingly let the fire flare another few inches. There was a bit of visible smoke now, though perhaps only to Cai since he was closer to the raptor’s wing than Ophelia.
Ophelia had started trembling again, though from where he was standing it was unlikely Cai would have noticed. But she could definitely feel her heart rate speeding up. The fire was getting to being a uncomfortable now, but after a few moments of staring at it in silence she gave a sharp nod and said, “Go ahead.”
“Tamir, spread two.” Tamir obliged, and the fire spread to cover two more primary feathers. It also rose another few inches, now looking like the start of a decent campfire. Still not very much smoke, but the rushing of the fire was now audible.
Ophelia was shaking badly now, and a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper emerged from her throat. The flickering orange and yellow light cast an odd shimmer on her lustrous eyes, but if Cai had been looking closely he’d probably see that her pupils were starting to dilate with fear. She bit her lip, trying to get herself back under control, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the flames on Tamir’s wingtips.
Cai’s hand tensed, but he forced his voice to stay calm and steady. “Ophelia? It’s okay, Tamir and I have it under control.” Part of him wanted to stop it now, immediately, but he knew that for this to work, Ophelia would need at least a moment to adjust. ...It was still hard, seeing her scared and just letting her endure it.
“I’m t-trying,” she said, her voice shaking. She still couldn’t pull her eyes away from the flames, and she could feel the urge to retch building up in her throat at the memories they were calling up. “But it’s… It’s hard, I keep remembering how Sieg’s burns where and he was in so much pain, and I couldn’t do anything.”
Tamir piped at Ophelia questioningly, tilting his head and then looking quickly between the half-elf and Cai. “Stand, Tamir,” Cai told him - the last thing he wanted was for Tamir to try approaching Ophelia with a burning wing. “That’s not going to happen again, Ophelia, I promise,” Cai called to her. “You’re - we’re all - going to be fine. And just tell me to stop if you’re done, I’ll stop it immediately.” Tamir made a hooting sort of noise that rose in pitch at the end, almost like a whine. “It’s okay, Tamir,” Cai said quietly.
Ophelia clenched her eyes shut, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. Then, she turned her head, forcing herself to look at Cai instead of at the fire. “I hate being like this,” she muttered angrily. “It’s so stupid, I wasn’t even the one who got hurt. Sieg was the one that suffered, and now I’m making it all about me.”
She glanced sideways at the fire again, clenching her jaw so hard it hurt.
“It’s not stupid,” Cai said. “It makes perfect sense that your head would try to protect you from something like that. You can’t always help the things your head does on its own, you can’t blame yourself for that. ...All you can do is try to put things back together. You’re doing that just fine, Ophelia.”
The half-elf’s only response was another soft moan. She stared at the flames for several minutes in silence, trying to force back the mental images of her brother lying on a cot covered in angry, oozing, red welts were there was once healthy skin. The horror of the memory and the frustration at her inability to fight it off made Ophelia’s chest feel like it was being squeezed, so that the frantic hammering of her heartbeat almost hurt. She realized that there was something hot and wet on her cheeks, and she angrily rubbed a hand under her eye to stem the tears before they could really get going.
Cai bit his tongue, the urge to stop Tamir’s fire, completely, right now, was only getting stronger. I don’t want to drive her to a breaking point… This was their first session - it was probably better to be overcautious than overachieving. “Tamir, douse two,” he ordered. The phoenix trilled and did so, and the flames dropped several inches - not as low as a lantern light, but not campfire-high, either. “It’s all right, Ophelia,” Cai assured her.
Ophelia sighed frustratedly, her shoulders slumping. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but that doesn’t make it any less disappointing,” she growled softly, though her heart wasn’t really in it. After rubbing her face again to try and scrub the tears away, she looked up at Tamir with a shaky smile. “You were worried about me, weren’t you? I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of you. I’m not nearly so brave and tough as your partner.”
Tamir piped back at Ophelia, sounding a little relieved. He glanced at Cai, and clacked his beak when he saw his rider was still holding the signal for stand. “You stay right there,” Cai told the phoenix. “Are you alright, Ophelia?”
She shook her head, “No. I’m angry. I don’t want to be like this.” She sighed, and met Cai’s eyes squarely. “But the only thing I can do is keep pushing myself, right? So I have to suck it up.”
Cai gave Tamir a repeated order to stay, but made a quick hand signal to permit the raptor to fold his still lightly-burning wing. The fireknight approached Ophelia, and reached out to put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. It’s alright to be frustrated - if it helps you to rant, rant. Or anything else you think will help, I’ll do my best to do for you.”
Ophelia gave Cai a grateful smile. “For now, can I just have a hug?”
Cai blinked, but quickly nodded and wrapped his arms around her. “Of course.”
The half-elf hugged him back, trying to stop the wild hammering of her her heartbeat after the fire. She knew that she was still trembling, and hated it, but Cai’s immediate willingness to comply with her request was reassuring. She slid down to her knees, keeping her arms around Cai’s neck and putting her face against his shoulder. The half-elf had been doing that a lot lately, she realized. Part of it was probably because Cai let her, but she couldn’t deny that it was a very intimate gesture to make on a regular basis. But in that moment, quivering and trying to drive the mental image of her broken, burned brother from her mind, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Cai kept still for a moment, to avoid automatically tensing when Ophelia rested her head on his right shoulder. Probably an arbitrary choice for her, especially right now, but Cai could never forget which shoulder had been seared with the Armels’ mark.
But Ophelia was shaking, and that took priority. Cai found himself wanting to stroke her hair, but didn’t think that would be appropriate, so he just hugged her a little more tightly. His stomach was, surprisingly, not doing that swooping thing again - but there was a somehow similar feeling in his chest, except in a good way. Even though Cai was supposed to be the one comforting Ophelia...Cai felt a lot more relaxed, too.
“I keep doing this to you,” Ophelia muttered softly, pressing her forehead into the fabric of Cai’s shirt. “I probably shouldn’t, and I’d apologize but it… it feels safe. Does that make sense?”
“...Yes,” Cai said, surprised but relieved that she felt the same way. “Don’t apologize. ...You can do this whenever you want.”
Ophelia chuckled softly, but she was similarly relieved to hear that she wasn’t bothering him. “I probably shouldn’t do it out in the open like this though. People will think we’re…”
She trailed off very abruptly. Her pulse, which had finally slowed back to normal speed after the fire, picked up again suddenly, knocking so hard against her ribs that she thought it might burst from her chest altogether. Ophelia’s mind was racing. The remark that had started off as joke was now taking root in her brain, bringing with it a dawning realization that was both wonderful and terrifying. Suddenly it was very, very hard to breathe normally.
Cai shifted his head slightly to look at her when she didn’t finish her sentence. “...Are you all right?”
“...Woo, I am an idiot,” she whispered, her fingers suddenly clenching into the fabric of Cai’s tunic as her shoulders tensed. “I’m… Oh Woo.”
Baffled, Cai asked, “What? Ophelia, you’re not an idiot... “ Cai trailed off. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong this time...maybe it was something to do with the fire, should he have had Tamir put his wing out completely? “What’s wrong, Ophelia?”
She slid backwards, letting go of her grip around Cai’s neck and sinking into a sitting position on the ground. Her face was flushed crimson, and her shoulders were shaking. She covered her face, muttering, “I’m sorry, Cai, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Cai glanced over at Tamir, who was watching Ophelia with his head tilted. No help there. Cai stooped next to her, wanting to put a hand on her shoulder but suddenly unsure if that was a good idea. His stomach churned. “Ophelia, I don’t understand what’s going on. Please, talk to me.”
She had finally realized what was going on- why she was so comfortable being close to Cai, why she felt safe around him, why he made her happy as no one else but Sieg could… but just the night before they’d had the closest thing they’d ever come to a fight because he didn’t like compliments. How could she possibly admit to this? What if he was horrified, discomfitted to the point that he never felt comfortable with her again?
But he’d been honest with her, even if it had been painful for him. Didn’t he deserve honesty from her?
Forcing herself to peel her hands away from her face, she looked Cai in the eyes. Her voice barely louder than a whisper, she said, “I… I think I love you.”
If Cai had made a list of all the things he thought Ophelia was likely to say, that would not have been on it. Nor would it have been on a list of the least likely things, because the possibility had been so out of Cai’s head that it might as well not have existed. People didn’t fall in love with slaves.
It’s - is it some kind of joke? he thought haltingly. Is - is she teasing me and I’m - not understanding? But he knew what Ophelia looked like and sounded like when she teased him, and...this was not it.
But...why would she… Slowly, though, things started coming back to him. The comment about his eyes. Her offering to desensitize him with an entire list of compliments. Wanting to dance with him at the Restoration festival. Feeling safe when he hugged her…
Finally, finally, realization hit Cai, too. The swooping, the desire to be close, maybe inappropriately close, the undercurrent of something that wasn’t just admiration when he thought of how intelligent and driven and kind Ophelia was…
He realized it had been a long time since Ophelia’s admission. Cai’s heart was beating faster than he was pretty sure it had on some of his military outings. Slowly, he sat down - it was harder than he would have thought, that soaring feeling was running all through him now. Even so, it took him a few very long seconds to summon the courage to let the words fall from his tongue. “I think...I think I love you, too.”
As the silence between them hung, Ophelia’s trembling had intensified, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide. But then, finally, Cai spoke again… and her heart leapt into her throat. She’d been expecting objection, denial, or at the very best an extremely embarrassed demuring. All her life she’d faced rejection or indifference from anyone she’d felt even a little infatuated with. The knowledge that she’d fallen in love with Cai had been followed hard by the realization that it was not just infatuation, but something much deeper, and stronger… and that made what she’d imagined would be an inevitable rejection all the more agonizing. Not to mention he was her friend, and she didn’t want to lose that friendship.
But he’d said the words the half-elf had never imagined she’d hear, not from him or anyone else. Disbelief was followed by a rush of delirious happiness, and Ophelia could have sobbed as the pent of anguish inside of her evaporated all at once. A small noise bubbled out of her, and it took her a moment to recognize it as a laugh. A hysterically relieved laugh, but still a laugh. She covered her face with her hands again, her entire body quivering with relief and a shot of pure elation.
“Wh-when I realized I… after last night I w-was so afraid…”
Cai felt like he must be in some kind of dream, except, he could feel the ground quite firmly under him, the only strangeness in the light was the flickering from Tamir’s still-burning wing (though the light seemed quite a bit lower, the phoenix must have eased his fire), and he could certainly feel his heart slamming hard against his chest…
“Last night...maybe that’s why I...panicked, I suppose. Slaves aren’t supposed to have relationships…” His mouth set into a hard line. “Except I’m not a slave anymore. ...I’m sorry, Ophelia.” He wondered if he should apologize, too, for not realizing earlier...but what would he have done with that? Cai had a hard time believing he would have been able to initiate a conversation like this. More likely, he would have convinced himself very quickly that his feelings would have been a burden to Ophelia.
“Of course, that does mean I don’t know what we do now,” he confessed.
Ophelia shook her head with a watery chuckle, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Honestly I don’t either. I feel rather as if I’ve been hit over the head with a rock. But in a good way, if that were possible. I think neither of us is really in any fit state to figure out ‘what nows’ this particular second. Maybe once we’ve had a chance to calm down and sleep on it… if I can sleep at all tonight anyway. But I… right now I think I just want to pick up where we left off a minute ago, if that’s alright with you. Though,” she added, with a wry curl of her lips. “Maybe somewhere a little less out in the open.”
Cai nodded slowly, trying to regain some sort of emotional equilibrium. He wasn’t having much success; Ophelia was probably right that this was not a good time to try and figure everything out. Especially when her suggestion for what they do in the meantime freshly distracted Cai with the realization that maybe some of the small, intimate touches he’d wanted to make might not be so inappropriate anymore. “That’s - completely fine with me,” Cai managed. He tried to think of where they could go. “Tamir needs to go back to the mews, first...there shouldn’t be anyone else there right now.”
She glanced at the phoenix nervously. “That’s fine with me, provided he douses his wing first.”
Tamir looked at Ophelia with a questioning chirrup, then glanced at Cai. “Yes, Tamir, douse.” The flames disappeared from the raptor’s wing, leaving darkness and only the very faintest hint of smoke-scent.
Cai stood up, motioning that Tamir didn’t have to hold position any longer. The phoenix fluffed his feathers and stepped forward to join them. He nudged Cai lightly, and Cai pat his beak before taking the phoenix’s reins in one hand and holding the other out to help Ophelia to her feet. She accepted the offered hand, and in spite of the fact that it was far from the first time she’d done so, she felt her pulse quicken just a little. The three of them made their way into the darkened building that housed the phoenixes, and as they came to Tamir’s stall Mirja again looked at them over the top of the divider and whistled a cheerful greeting.
“Hello, Mirja,” Ophelia said with a shaky smile. The female phoenix tilted her head curiously, glancing over to Cai and Tamir. Tamir piped a short series of notes in Mirja’s direction and fluffed his feathers again. Mirja gave an excited series of high chitters, and then with a final look at Cai and Ophelia, pulled back over the wall and out of sight.
“I… have no idea what that was all about,” Ophelia said, somewhat bemused. “And right now I don’t think I could focus to try and work it out.”
She leaned against the wall of Tamir’s stall, sliding down it until she was in a sitting position. Looking up at Cai, her face flushed and she admitted, “I… I was so afraid when I realized. For years I’ve stopped even thinking of myself in the context of someone who would ever have anyone care about me that way, because… because no matter what I did I always… Because of what I am.”
Cai settled down next to her as Tamir nestled down for the night just at their feet - well, perhaps just Ophelia’s feet would be more accurate to say. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how those people could let something trivial as hybridism be a reason to refuse you.” Unless they were Courdonians, Cai supposed, but he was quite certain the only relationship she wanted with the Courdonian high class was that of enemies.
He didn’t think he needed to mention how incomprehensible the idea of anyone having romantic feelings for him had been, not anymore than he already had. No sense in bringing the mood down with thoughts of Courdon, and it certainly wasn’t as if it would be comforting. Instead, Cai, realizing he’d left a bit of distance between them when he sat, hesitantly edged closer to Ophelia so their arms touched.
Ophelia was initially a little surprised when she felt Cai’s arm brush against hers- as far as she could remember, it was the first time he’d instigated any sort of intimate contact without the half-elf starting it first in some way or another. But it wasn’t an unwelcome gesture; if anything, as jumpy as he was about manners and not pushing boundaries, the fact that he legitimately wanted that contact reassured Ophelia that he really did mean it when he said he loved her. With a smile the half-elf shifted a little closer as well, tentatively putting the arm in question around his shoulder. Cai stayed perfectly still for a moment, but at last felt the muscles in his back and shoulders relax.
“There’s a number of reasons,” she said softly. “I imagine to a lot of people my inhuman features would be strange at the most charitable, unattractive at the least. Elves have sort of a reputation for coldness, so there’s that too. And…”
Her voice faltered here, and she looked away. There really was no way around the subject, it had to come up eventually. Very softly, her voice shaking, she murmured, “I already brought up the main reason at the Restoration of the Walls.”
It took Cai a moment to recall exactly what she must mean, but of course, as soon as he did, the fireknight understood Ophelia’s unease. Her uncertain lifespan... “It’s...definitely something to consider. I can’t imagine that’s an easy burden to bear, not knowing…” He considered his next words, looking at Tamir’s feathers and their dull gleam in the low light of the mews. “For my part, I already know Tamir is going to outlive me. I hate that someday I’m going to leave him and hurt him...and I’m grateful for the time he gives me despite that.” He took in and then let out a long, deep breath. “But it’s ultimately your choice. If you need to protect yourself...I’ll understand.” He wouldn’t be happy, but he would understand. Hundreds of years was a long time to live when everyone around you couldn’t scrounge up a single century.
Ophelia glanced at the phoenix, a little surprised by the comparison. It did make sense- phoenixes generally only died when they were caught off guard by an injury or illness that killed them before they could reincarnate by self-immolation. Tamir could go on living for a thousand years or more before something happened that finally killed him permanently. There was no telling how many other partners he’d lost before Cai.
The half-elf bit her lip. With a soft whimper, she put the side of her head against Cai’s shoulder, so that the top of her head was just brushing the burn scar on his chin. “I don’t even know for sure, but even if I did, I wouldn’t want to push away a chance to be happy for a while because I’m afraid of the future. I just want to live in the moment and try to enjoy the life I have. But… but what about you? If I do take after my father, then… then while you grow old I’ll still be a young adult. I don’t, I mean…”
“It might be strange,” Cai admitted after a moment’s thought. “But as long as we still like each other, I don’t see why it should matter...though I don’t want to burden you with the problems of an old man.” He considered briefly whether it was likely he would make it to serious old age; he was a knight, and even besides that, who knew how many years Courdon might have taken off his life? Although, speaking of Courdon…“I do know that I didn’t come to Kyth just to throw away things that would make me happy.”
Ophelia felt her face flush a little. She smiled glancing sideways up at Cai’s face. “I make you happy then?”
Cai nodded, smiling back. “Very happy.”
The half-elf shifted, putting her other arm around the fireknight’s shoulders and timidly pressing her nose against his neck. “You make me happy too. I… I want to give us a try, if you’re willing.”
Cai could feel his pulse kicking hard against his veins. Carefully, he put his arms around Ophelia, and this time, when he wanted to rest his hand against the back of her head, Cai let it happen. “If you’ll have me,” he said quietly.
She chuckled softly. “Are you sure you won’t run away on me one day? For someone who went to so much trouble to get his freedom, you’re giving yourself away rather easily.”
“I won’t run,” Cai promised. “Deciding I want to be part of something is different than being enslaved to it.”
“Well in that case, I can only think of one other major hindrance at the moment.” Shifting her head so that she could see where Tamir was sitting near her feet, she gave the phoenix a gentle nudge with one toe. “What about you? I think you had first dibs- any objections?”
Tamir lifted his head, surveying his rider and the half-elf for a moment. He fixed his eyes on Ophelia, slowly brought his head closer - and nudged her arm gently with his beak. Drawing his head back, the phoenix warbled at them, yawned, and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.
“I’m guessing that’s a blessing,” Ophelia said with a wry smile. With a sigh, she relaxed into Cai’s arms, tightening her grip around his shoulders. “Alright. I… I’m scared, and I don’t really know how this works, but… I want to try.”
Cai closed his arms more tightly around Ophelia, too, feeling immensely gratified when she relaxed against him. “I know even less, I’m sure,” Cai said, “but I think it’s worth trying. We’ll figure it out together.” |
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Post by Shinko on Feb 25, 2015 8:59:56 GMT -5
A Chance to Help - Epilogue The flames were high enough that Cai could feel the heat on the side of his face. He’d made sure to stand so that the heavy scarring on his jaw wasn’t the target of that heat - and of course, that he could still see Ophelia. By this point, he didn’t need to hold the stand signal for Tamir, but he kept his hand up and ready so he could act quickly if he needed to. He would probably be having Tamir douse very soon, actually; he and Ophelia had found that this went much more smoothly if they focused on endurance at lower stages of nervousness than on their first attempt. Cai was certainly glad for that - he wanted to help Ophelia get through her fear, but not by dragging her through intense terror every night. That was hardly how one should treat their girlfriend.
It had been months since that night of realizations - and there were still times where the very concept of it, the idea that he, Cai, a burned-up iron-worker-slave, had a significant other, seemed almost unbelievable and unreal. Like Ophelia with the fire, however, Cai was slowly desensitizing to that particular cowering voice in his head. After all - Ophelia had come back to Solis, and a small box under Cai’s bunk was filled with the letters Ophelia had written to him while she was in Nid’aigle.
“How are you doing, Ophelia?” he asked.
The half-elf’s muscles were tight, and there was a shadow of unease in her eyes, but at the sound of Cai’s voice she cast a thin smile in his direction. “I’m holding up,” she replied. “It’s definitely getting easier. It’s still unnerving but… not debilitatingly so.”
She turned her gaze back to the phoenix, forcing herself to take a slow, deep breath in spite of the fact that it filled her nose with the smell of smoke. She could do this. Already her reactions were a lot less intense than before, and she could handle smaller levels of flame without it being too triggering. It was slow progress, but it was still progress. Having to halt the proceedings when she left Solis in early July hadn’t helped that much, but it was unavoidable. She still had her obligations to the elves, and Cai had his obligations to the Jades. Neither of them could just abandon those responsibilities on a whim. Not only that, but Ophelia couldn’t leave her brother alone in Nid’aigle, not until Sieg was in a place mentally and emotionally where he could stand on his own.
Part of Ophelia had been afraid that the months of separation would destroy what they’d built up, or make it impossible to keep things going. But here they were, together again months later, and Cai had been just as warm in his reception of her as he’d been every day before she left. He didn’t hold it against her that she had to leave- he understood, because he too knew the weight of responsibility. Ophelia never would have imagined she’d find anyone who was willing to overlook the possible repercussions of her hybridism- but to have found someone who not only didn’t judge her for being a half-elf, but didn’t mind that she spent half or more of the year on the opposite end of the region… Ophelia couldn’t help but wonder if the Woo had played some hand in this.
Taking another deep, slightly shuddering breath, Ophelia managed to force her knotted muscles to relax. Then, in spite of the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, she looked directly into the fire with a steady, calm gaze. “I think I’ve got it under control now. At least for the time being.”
Cai nodded, smiling encouragingly. “All right then - I’ll have Tamir turn it down.” Ophelia nodded, smiling slightly with triumph. He gave his phoenix the hand signal to lower the fire’s intensity by a small amount, and repeated the signal every thirty seconds or so until the raptor’s fiery wing was extinguished.
Tamir twittered and his gold eyes flicked between Cai and Ophelia expectantly; for a moment, his attention fixed on Cai before the raptor realized it was a waterskin and not food Cai was unhooking from his belt, and that he was holding it out for Ophelia. “You’ll get your treat in a minute, Tamir,” Cai said placatingly. He’d had to be a little more creative with rewards for Tamir lately; the drought was still going strong and even in Corvus, the price of fruit was slowly rising as more water was diverted toward livestock and heartier foods and away from vineyards and berry-farms.
Ophelia accepted the waterskin gratefully, but only drank a little from it before offering it back to Cai. “Thanks. But don’t keep his majesty waiting on my account- he’s been remarkably patient in working with me through all of this.” She looked over to Tamir and smiled, walking up to the phoenix and offering a hand to him. “I hope this isn’t too boring for you, Tamir. I bet you wish you could put on a dramatic, dazzling display for me, hm? Maybe one of these days you and Cai can show off what you’re really capable of. I bet it’s impressive.”
Tamir piped a short note that swooped up in pitch and bumped his beak against Ophelia’s hand. Cai, reattaching the waterskin, agreed, “He would very much love showing off, and seeing if I can stay in the saddle while he does it. You should come watch the whole wing someday, though - the phoenixes are incredible on their own, but it’s in a flight with nine other birds that they’re most impressive.”
With the waterskin secured, Cai reached carefully into his pocket and withdrew a fist-sized item wrapped in paper. Cai peeled the edges away from a roll that had been rolled in honey, then seed, and then the honey allowed to crystallize. Tamir studied it when Cai held it out to him; after a minute, he reached up with a talon and plucked it delicately out of his rider’s hand, moving it to the ground to examine.
“Sorry, Tamir; I didn’t mean to make it a puzzle.” The phoenix ignored him, focused on prodding the strange object with his beak. Cai shook his head slightly and turned back to Ophelia, adding to continue the conversation about show-off phoenixes, “Or maybe you’ll be in Solis for the next Emberwing Championship, whenever that turns out to be.” Cai forced aside the unhappy memories of just why the Championship that had been set to take place the past autumn had been cancelled.
The half-elf smiled sympathetically, guessing the direction of Cai’s thoughts. “Even were it not for Lord Everett’s loss, I doubt that the region has the resources, to sustain such a huge event right now. It’s not a single-city thing like the Restoration of the Walls… though that does make me wonder if that will be on again come the spring. I can’t believe it’s been three years now this drought has dragged. Sieg is apparently going with a relief train to take supplies to Kine, but we don’t have a lot to offer them at this point- even the swamps can only stay wet for so long with no rain.”
She shook her head, “At any rate, I’d love to see it whenever the region is in a better position to make it worth seeing. But for now, I’ll have to find other ways to entertain myself and distract from unpleasant thoughts.” With a sideways glance in Cai’s direction and a crooked smile she added, “You could help me with that, where you so inclined.”
Cai’s back went instantly straight - maybe someday this sort of teasing would stop surprising him - but it was with a warm smile that he nodded and said, “I would be happy to assist in that endeavor.” Cai hoped that even if he started seeing Ophelia’s teasing coming, he wouldn’t stop feeling the rush of warm flattery that followed.
He held out a hand to Ophelia. “Since you mentioned the Festival, should we go check on our sandhill crane once Tamir’s back in his pen?” At that moment, Tamir let out a note of excitement. “...Which shouldn’t take long now that he’s figured out his treat was edible after all.” It still took him a moment to make the offers, but Cai was getting better - it was only a few seconds before he added, “Or the parks are always very empty after dark, if you were hoping for a little more privacy.”
Ophelia accepted the hand, and with a playful glint in her eyes she used it as leverage to pull herself closer to the fireknight and press her lips against his. Cai accepted the kiss delicately, as if it were something he had to be careful not to break, or something to savor slowly rather than rush through.
“By all means let us check on that sandhill crane,” Ophelia said. “It’ll be nice to see how it looks now that it’s properly set. While we’re there, we should follow the road the rest of the way up and get a good look at the other birds and shadows on it.”
“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Cai agreed, his heartbeat still going a little fast. “I haven’t been up that road in a long time, it would be nice to see what all’s there and what’s been added, aside from our crane. Let’s just get Tamir inside…”
As they led Tamir into the mews, Ophelia snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right, I had almost forgotten. I know right now with the drought the fireknights need all of their manpower so no one is too overworked, especially after the malaria epidemic, but… once it finally passes, do you think you might be able to get some leave time?”
“Hm...probably. I haven’t used much of the time I’ve been given in the past, so I assume once we’re back to business as usual, it shouldn’t be too much of an imposition. Why?”
The half-elf smiled broadly, “Well, the way I see it, I’ve been getting to have all the fun experiencing new things in an unfamiliar city. Wouldn’t you like to see where I live? And you should meet my brother at some point as well.”
Cai looked up at her, his hazel eyes wide. “You’d like me to come visit you in Nid’aigle? I would love to come see it - and you - and to meet your brother. ...I wouldn’t be a bother to the elves, would I?”
She rolled her eyes, “Some of them don’t care much for humans but they worst they’ll do is ignore you. Elves are nothing if not polite. But for the most part, no I doubt they’ll mind. In fact I know some who you might like to meet- my brother’s old knight-master for example. He’s was captured by the Courdonians at one point, and still has a brand to prove it- and he’s a very affable man besides, impossible not to like.”
Cai nodded, his expression becoming serious. “I’m glad he was able to escape them...if not the brand.” He nudged aside an urge to rub at his own branded shoulder, and in a lighter tone, said, “I’d very much like to meet him, if he’s agreeable to it. I’ll trust your judgement on who I ought to make acquaintances with.”
Ophelia winked, “It’s a date then. I really do think you’ll enjoy it. The elves breed their own animals, and they’re near as intelligent as the phoenixes- I can show you some Elvish horses if you’d like as well.”
“Really? I would love to see them - the horses, and whatever other animals they breed...and all the things you’ve told me about, like the houses and the orchards...”
“I’ll be certain to show you everything, I promise,” Ophelia said with a laugh. More softly she added, “And since it won’t make a difference to the elves one way or another, and none of them is going to turn you in, we can use this language while you’re there if you’d like- except with Sieg, of course, no reason to translate from Low Courdonian with him when he’s perfectly fluent in Kythian.”
Cai nodded. “That’s true. And it might not be a bad idea to introduce them to the sound of it - of course, I assume most runaways who make it into Nid’aigle are obvious enough by sight, but one more clue wouldn’t hurt those trying to help them.”
The half-elf nodded. “I intend to teach it to some of our other translators once I’m fluent enough- so that someone’s still around to talk to them if I’m away or incapacitated somehow. Though, that does remind me… I found another phrase I didn’t know the translation for, and wanted to check it with you.”
Cai glanced back at Ophelia, before his gaze flicked back to the post in search of the hook he was hanging Tamir’s reins from. “I’ll do my best. What is the phrase?”
“In Elvish it’s je t'aime. In Kythian, however,” she leaned down, bending over his shoulder to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “It’s ‘I love you.’”
Cai blinked in surprise - but then he smiled, turned, and whispered the translation into Ophelia’s ear. |
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