Post by Shinko on Nov 1, 2018 16:03:47 GMT -5
Allow me to present a brand new collab fic! This story takes place in the summer of 1319, and is a collaboration between myself, Tiger and PFA
Blast Radius - Part One
Blast Radius - Part Two
Blast Radius - Part Three
Blast Radius - Part Four
Blast Radius - Part Five
Blast Radius - Part Six
Blast Radius - Part One
When Anders Escalus had been a teenager, he’d gotten rather accustomed to being disliked. He’d been antisocial, standoffish even, and possessed of a bad habit of lashing out over rather minor slights. With eyes the grey of thunderheads he could look extremely severe and unapproachable when he wanted, and his short-cropped light brown hair further conveyed a no-nonsense attitude that was very much in evidence in his day to day life.
That was a long time ago, however. Now thirty-six years old and the longtime Flight Lieutenant of the third wing of House Jade’s fireknights, Anders had come a good ways from being the sort of bitter, easily goaded youth that had earned the bile of nearly everyone around him. No, now he was someone regarded with respect. Someone who had earned his place through hard work and dogged determination. Someone who had finally begun to actually take it for granted that he finally had a place to truly belong.
So suffice to say, he was a bit concerned when he entered the cozily lit, spacious mess hall that the fireknights shared after an exhausting patrol, and was met with a sudden, pronounced hush.
The man blinked, raising a brow. It wasn’t uncommon for the rank and file to clam up when an officer dropped in on them unexpectedly, but Anders’ presence really couldn’t have been called ‘unexpected.’ With no spouse or children to return to in the small cottage he lived in out in the city, Anders usually took supper in the mess. It let him hear the news and gossip from the other fireknights, and even if he said little it was understood that his silence was a companionable one. That he was listening as a curious and interested comrade, not as a Flight Lieutenant spying on the subordinates.
Anders shifted slightly as the silence hung, tapping the toe of one of his boots against the floor as if to kick it on more securely. “Something on my face, gentlemen?”
There was laughter at this, but it was awkward and forced sounding. Finally, one of the fireknights that Anders recognized from squad six piped up, “We was just talking about um… well there’s been word from Lord Jade’s manor, and…”
“Oh?” Anders said, his interest piqued. It wasn’t every day the fireknights took interest in doings from the manor of their liege lords. After all, the intricate dance of regional politics had very little bearing on their day to day lives. “Well no need to stop on my account. I'd be interested to hear what our lord has been getting up to that has all of you talking.”
“Um… well about that…” the speaker said hesitantly, looking around frantically at the others as if for help.
A hand fell on Anders shoulder and he gave a start. He turned to see one of the Jade fireknight Majors, one Tatton Marlowe, standing behind him. “Lieutenant,” the man said his voice brusque. “A word if you please?”
Well if Anders wasn't uneasy before, he definitely was now. Doing his best to keep his expression level he nodded and turned to follow the major. “Something the matter, Sir?” he asked tentatively.
“Not out here,” Marlowe said. “Trust me what I have to say you will much rather hear in private.”
Well that was foreboding. But at least it didn't sound like the prelude to some sort of lecture. Anders took the major at his word, allowing him to lead the way deeper into the complex of buildings that comprised the fireknight base. Finally, they arrived at the door to the major’s office, and he beckoned for Anders to take a seat inside.
“There is no delicate way to put this, Escalus, so I’m going to be frank with you,” the higher officer said grimly. “There’s been a scandal up at Jade Manor.”
“A… scandal?” Anders echoed, his brows pinching. “That sounds serious…”
“Lord Oberon- you grew up a noble, I trust I don’t have to explain who the Oberons are?” At Anders head shake, the major went on, “Lord Oberon’s son and his family came to visit the capital yesterday. The Jades and their archmage managed to ferret out that the boy’s wife of the past two-and-then-some years has been drugging him with love potions.”
Anders sucked in a sharp breath, his steel grey eyes going wide. “That… Yes, that is… Woo, a scandal doesn’t even begin to cover it! Coercion, misuse of magic, and they’ve had children I’m sure so…”
“One child, yes,” Marlowe agreed. There was something odd in his eyes- something questioning. When Anders only met the look with silence, his superior officer hissed. “You don’t know, do you? Who married Cyril Oberon.”
“I can’t pretend I keep up with that sort of thing, no,” Anders admitted, a little defensively. “I haven’t been trained to a life of politics since I was nine years old, and it isn’t generally an obligation for a fireknight to remember who all marries whom among the Corvid nobility.”
“Maybe not,” the major conceded. “But most men know when their own sisters get hitched.”
Anders went very still, his eyes unfocusing. “I… I must have heard you incorrectly, sir. I could have sworn you just implied that my sister-”
“Drugged and brainwashed another noble, aye- Heather is the name of your sister, right?”
It was. Much though he wished he could have claimed otherwise, Anders did have a much younger sister named Heather, who now that he thought about it would have been well old enough for marriage.
“Her name’s been making the rounds, Lieutenant,” Marlowe pressed urgently. “Heather Oberon nee Escalus.
“And anyone who knows of me will no doubt realize a relation,” Anders concluded dismally. “Major Marlowe, I swear to you I had nothing to do with this- no knowledge whatsoever-”
“Aye, aye, I’m not accusing you, Lieutenant,” Marlowe cut in, putting out a placating hand. “A blind man could’ve seen that you had no bloody clue what I was getting at until I spelled it out. But it’s better you hear it now then to find out because House Jade sends guardsmen to grab you for questioning.”
Anders tensed. “Is that… likely?”
“I should bloody well hope not after all the service you’ve given their house, but it’s hard to say,” Marlowe admitted. “Politics are complicated, Escalus. Sometimes nobles have to do things they don’t want just to appease the masses. And anyone who doesn’t know you except as a name around town likely will be suspicious.”
“Right,” Anders said, leaning forward on the desk and resting his forehead in his hands. “Is… Is the Oberon boy all right at least?”
“Can’t speak to that,” Marlowe replied. “I only know what I’ve heard, and you know the nature of the rumor mill- all they want to talk about are the exciting parts. Jade’s tending to him, I don’t doubt, so he’s in the best hands he possibly could be short of a monarch.”
Anders was quiet for a time, processing everything. Then he stood, giving the major a salute. “Thank you for telling me, Sir.
Though among the fireknights any possibly dissension was swiftly and thoroughly stamped out by the officers, Anders found that anyone in town who knew him by name had started giving him a bit of a wide berth. Whispering when they thought he couldn’t hear. He did his best to ignore the sidelong looks and tittering. To pretend not to notice. After all, it wasn’t like confronting people was going to change anything when he had no evidence to verify his innocence. He could only hope that the blaze would burn itself out quickly- that people would swiftly move on to the next big gossip item. In the meantime he had patrols to fly, a giant bird to care for, and appointments to keep.
“Must you bring all that with you?” He asked with amusement as he sat on a stone bench in one of the gardens of Jade Manor, grinning at the person across from him. At twenty-one Reynold Jade was finally started to overcome the gawkiness of his teen years, looking much more a man than a boy. He looked very much like his father Everett, with dark hair, green eyes, and a stern countenance. He also presently had a jumble of papers balanced on a book in his lap, which he was scribbling on with a look of immense concentration. It stood in stark contrast to the begonias and rain lilies blooming against the fence behind him, and the tall swamp myrtle casting its shade over the benches.
“It’s important,” Reynold insisted, glancing up from his paperwork for just a moment before looking back down at it. “I need to get this copied down by tonight.”
“Diligent as ever,” Anders mused. “I’m definitely going to remember this next time someone from my wing recruits you to pick on me about overworking, though.”
“Hey now, that’s hardly the same,” Reynold said, though his tone made it clear he meant it in good humor. “At least doing paperwork in the gardens isn’t likely to get me injured.”
“You don’t know that,” Anders fired back, his tone light and cheery. “How many mages does your father employ again? I’m sure one of them could arrange for a fatally poisoned papercut or some such. And with the way you say Caroline carries on, you’d think office work was a deadly illness.”
Reynold chuckled at this. “You’ve got me there.”
Leaning back with his hands on the bench, Anders said with false casualness, “I hope you’re at least making time out of your busy schedule for your new wife. Been getting to know her much?”
“Er, I mean, I’m not that busy,” was Reynold’s reply, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Chamile is nice. In fact, we went to visit one of the old cathedrals the other day.”
Anders’ expression became less teasing, and he chuckled softly. “Well I’m glad you two are getting on, even if you weren’t as enthused about it as Joffery was on your behalf.”
“To be fair, it’s hard to be as enthused as Joffery about much anything,” Reynold admitted, shaking his head. “But yeah, I think we’re both glad it turned out as well as it did.”
And, as if summoned by the discussion concerning her, a young woman poked her head around the corner of the nearest garden wall, and sighed in relief. “There you are,” said Chamile Jade, who had been Chamile Accipiter a relatively short time ago. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Caroline is…” She spotted Anders, and with only a slight pause, said, “She’s getting... agitated.” Her eyebrows moved up and down a little in silent emphasis. “We might want to avoid the library for a while.”
Anders coughed into his fist to hide a laugh, and Reynold let out a sigh. “Not again,” Reynold said. “I wonder what she’s upset about this time.”
“I can’t comment, I was insufferable at her age too,” Anders said ruefully.
“…True,” Reynold admitted. “I was definitely… not my best at that age.”
“I was an angel at twelve,” Chamile put in, though her smile was a hint too sharp and the batting of her eyes too exaggerated to be genuine.
Anders’ grin widened. “So I take it this is the Lady Chamile I’ve heard so much about? You going to give her a proper noble introduction, Reynold?”
“Oh! That’s right, I’ve been meaning to introduce you.” Reynold set his paperwork aside for the moment so he could stand. “Anders, this is my wife, Lady Chamile. Chamile, this is my friend, Lieutenant Anders Escalus.”
Anders rose as well, bowing at the hip with both hands clasped behind his back- a military officer’s gesture to a noble, not the greeting of one noble to another. He hadn’t after all, been a noble in some decades. Despite this formal gesture, his tone was light as he straightened and said, “A pleasure, m’lady. I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance.”
Growing up with certain noble families made it easy to avoid an outright flicker in an expression - but there was certainly something suddenly different in Chamile’s smile and posture as she gave the fireknight a small curtsey. With the same slight hesitation she’d had when adjusting her description of Caroline, Chamile replied, “Thank you, Lieutenant. You...must be the fireknight friend Reynold’s mentioned?” She looked over at her husband.
Reynold nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
Anders blinked- Reynold didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss, but something was definitely a bit more… distant about his wife’s bearing. Hadn’t she just been joking with them a few seconds before?
“That’s most likely me, yes,” he said, forcing himself to remain pleasant despite the prickling of unease in his spine. “I hope he’s only told you good things about me and not all of his childhood naughtiness I covered for.”
Chamile wasn’t quite able to conceal a twitch of stiffness in her shoulders at that.“Ah - no, he...he actually hasn’t told me very much about you just yet.” She gave him a thin smile. “I hope he wasn’t doing anything too disobedient in his childhood.”
“No more than do most kids that age,” Anders assured her hurriedly, able to plainly read that this had been the wrong thing to say, though it baffled him she’d reacted to it poorly. Hadn’t she just been joking about her own misbehavior as a child? “And even though I told him off for saying as much at the time, it was mostly at Joffery’s instigation. They wanted to see phoenixes, snuck off without permission, and I promised not to report it as long as I didn’t catch them in the mews unattended again.” He forced a laugh. “Before he was singing for girls, phoenixes were Joffery’s favorite audience.”
“Er, yeah, I really wanted to see the phoenixes, myself.” Reynold shifted slightly, sensing the tension. “But Anders has been a good friend of mine ever since.”
Chamile made a small, considering noise. “I see. Well - hopefully I’ll get to learn more about you, Lieutenant.” She glanced at Reynold again, and then, after a just too long moment, snapped her fingers and said, “Oh - ah, Reynold, I just remembered, I think I am going to need something out of the library. Would you mind coming along to help me pacify Caroline?”
“Oh. Er…” Reynold frowned, sending Anders a concerned glance. “I suppose so.”
“Ah- alright, that’s understandable,” Anders said, by now having defaulted to standing attention with the same sort of politely impassive expression he wore with his fireknight superiors. “Another time then- don’t forget your paperwork, Reynold.”
“Right, right.” Reynold quickly gathered up his papers, sending Anders one last awkward smile before following after his wife.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Chamile said with a glance over her shoulder; for just a second, her expression looked a bit uncertain, before she snapped her gaze forward again. Anders felt his gut knotting, and though he kept his expression neutral while there was still a chance of Chamile or Reynold looking back, as soon as they were out of view he slumped down onto one of the stone benches and bit his lip.
That… that was odd. Not behavior he would’ve found amiss from some nobility, but he wouldn’t have started making jokes if she hadn’t essentially started it!
Although- her demeanor had changed before his joke, now that he thought about it. Only slightly, but he was raised noble- he’d seen the shutters going down. But why? In reaction to what? All Reynold had done was introduce him-
Oh… oh.
“I am a blind idiot,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. Reynold had introduced him. Introduced him as Anders Escalus. Of bloody course his wife, who lived in Jade manor, would know about Heather’s crimes! Of course she’d immediately draw the connection between them!
Anders felt sick. He didn’t even know his sister, not really. He hadn’t seen her since she was three years old. His strongest memory of her was of watching as their mother tried to teach her the color blue and her cheerfully squeaking “G’een!” over and over, for mercy’s sake!
I don’t even know what happened; not really, he realized. Only that she’s been drugging him with potions and they have a child. I can’t be an accessory to a crime I barely understand!
What was the worst was that part of Anders felt guilty. Even if he’d personally done nothing wrong, his entire lense on this scandal was as a hapless estranged relative having fingers pointed at him. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone so that he could go on pretending Heather didn’t exist. An inherently selfish wish, grown in soil long-tilled by avoiding and running away from his connections to House Escalus.
I don’t know her, and I’m not responsible for her, but… she’s still my sister, he concluded grimly, rising to his feet. If I can, I should still at least try to make amends to the actual victim.
But first… he needed to understand what exactly Heather had done.
That was a long time ago, however. Now thirty-six years old and the longtime Flight Lieutenant of the third wing of House Jade’s fireknights, Anders had come a good ways from being the sort of bitter, easily goaded youth that had earned the bile of nearly everyone around him. No, now he was someone regarded with respect. Someone who had earned his place through hard work and dogged determination. Someone who had finally begun to actually take it for granted that he finally had a place to truly belong.
So suffice to say, he was a bit concerned when he entered the cozily lit, spacious mess hall that the fireknights shared after an exhausting patrol, and was met with a sudden, pronounced hush.
The man blinked, raising a brow. It wasn’t uncommon for the rank and file to clam up when an officer dropped in on them unexpectedly, but Anders’ presence really couldn’t have been called ‘unexpected.’ With no spouse or children to return to in the small cottage he lived in out in the city, Anders usually took supper in the mess. It let him hear the news and gossip from the other fireknights, and even if he said little it was understood that his silence was a companionable one. That he was listening as a curious and interested comrade, not as a Flight Lieutenant spying on the subordinates.
Anders shifted slightly as the silence hung, tapping the toe of one of his boots against the floor as if to kick it on more securely. “Something on my face, gentlemen?”
There was laughter at this, but it was awkward and forced sounding. Finally, one of the fireknights that Anders recognized from squad six piped up, “We was just talking about um… well there’s been word from Lord Jade’s manor, and…”
“Oh?” Anders said, his interest piqued. It wasn’t every day the fireknights took interest in doings from the manor of their liege lords. After all, the intricate dance of regional politics had very little bearing on their day to day lives. “Well no need to stop on my account. I'd be interested to hear what our lord has been getting up to that has all of you talking.”
“Um… well about that…” the speaker said hesitantly, looking around frantically at the others as if for help.
A hand fell on Anders shoulder and he gave a start. He turned to see one of the Jade fireknight Majors, one Tatton Marlowe, standing behind him. “Lieutenant,” the man said his voice brusque. “A word if you please?”
Well if Anders wasn't uneasy before, he definitely was now. Doing his best to keep his expression level he nodded and turned to follow the major. “Something the matter, Sir?” he asked tentatively.
“Not out here,” Marlowe said. “Trust me what I have to say you will much rather hear in private.”
Well that was foreboding. But at least it didn't sound like the prelude to some sort of lecture. Anders took the major at his word, allowing him to lead the way deeper into the complex of buildings that comprised the fireknight base. Finally, they arrived at the door to the major’s office, and he beckoned for Anders to take a seat inside.
“There is no delicate way to put this, Escalus, so I’m going to be frank with you,” the higher officer said grimly. “There’s been a scandal up at Jade Manor.”
“A… scandal?” Anders echoed, his brows pinching. “That sounds serious…”
“Lord Oberon- you grew up a noble, I trust I don’t have to explain who the Oberons are?” At Anders head shake, the major went on, “Lord Oberon’s son and his family came to visit the capital yesterday. The Jades and their archmage managed to ferret out that the boy’s wife of the past two-and-then-some years has been drugging him with love potions.”
Anders sucked in a sharp breath, his steel grey eyes going wide. “That… Yes, that is… Woo, a scandal doesn’t even begin to cover it! Coercion, misuse of magic, and they’ve had children I’m sure so…”
“One child, yes,” Marlowe agreed. There was something odd in his eyes- something questioning. When Anders only met the look with silence, his superior officer hissed. “You don’t know, do you? Who married Cyril Oberon.”
“I can’t pretend I keep up with that sort of thing, no,” Anders admitted, a little defensively. “I haven’t been trained to a life of politics since I was nine years old, and it isn’t generally an obligation for a fireknight to remember who all marries whom among the Corvid nobility.”
“Maybe not,” the major conceded. “But most men know when their own sisters get hitched.”
Anders went very still, his eyes unfocusing. “I… I must have heard you incorrectly, sir. I could have sworn you just implied that my sister-”
“Drugged and brainwashed another noble, aye- Heather is the name of your sister, right?”
It was. Much though he wished he could have claimed otherwise, Anders did have a much younger sister named Heather, who now that he thought about it would have been well old enough for marriage.
“Her name’s been making the rounds, Lieutenant,” Marlowe pressed urgently. “Heather Oberon nee Escalus.
“And anyone who knows of me will no doubt realize a relation,” Anders concluded dismally. “Major Marlowe, I swear to you I had nothing to do with this- no knowledge whatsoever-”
“Aye, aye, I’m not accusing you, Lieutenant,” Marlowe cut in, putting out a placating hand. “A blind man could’ve seen that you had no bloody clue what I was getting at until I spelled it out. But it’s better you hear it now then to find out because House Jade sends guardsmen to grab you for questioning.”
Anders tensed. “Is that… likely?”
“I should bloody well hope not after all the service you’ve given their house, but it’s hard to say,” Marlowe admitted. “Politics are complicated, Escalus. Sometimes nobles have to do things they don’t want just to appease the masses. And anyone who doesn’t know you except as a name around town likely will be suspicious.”
“Right,” Anders said, leaning forward on the desk and resting his forehead in his hands. “Is… Is the Oberon boy all right at least?”
“Can’t speak to that,” Marlowe replied. “I only know what I’ve heard, and you know the nature of the rumor mill- all they want to talk about are the exciting parts. Jade’s tending to him, I don’t doubt, so he’s in the best hands he possibly could be short of a monarch.”
Anders was quiet for a time, processing everything. Then he stood, giving the major a salute. “Thank you for telling me, Sir.
* * *
Though among the fireknights any possibly dissension was swiftly and thoroughly stamped out by the officers, Anders found that anyone in town who knew him by name had started giving him a bit of a wide berth. Whispering when they thought he couldn’t hear. He did his best to ignore the sidelong looks and tittering. To pretend not to notice. After all, it wasn’t like confronting people was going to change anything when he had no evidence to verify his innocence. He could only hope that the blaze would burn itself out quickly- that people would swiftly move on to the next big gossip item. In the meantime he had patrols to fly, a giant bird to care for, and appointments to keep.
“Must you bring all that with you?” He asked with amusement as he sat on a stone bench in one of the gardens of Jade Manor, grinning at the person across from him. At twenty-one Reynold Jade was finally started to overcome the gawkiness of his teen years, looking much more a man than a boy. He looked very much like his father Everett, with dark hair, green eyes, and a stern countenance. He also presently had a jumble of papers balanced on a book in his lap, which he was scribbling on with a look of immense concentration. It stood in stark contrast to the begonias and rain lilies blooming against the fence behind him, and the tall swamp myrtle casting its shade over the benches.
“It’s important,” Reynold insisted, glancing up from his paperwork for just a moment before looking back down at it. “I need to get this copied down by tonight.”
“Diligent as ever,” Anders mused. “I’m definitely going to remember this next time someone from my wing recruits you to pick on me about overworking, though.”
“Hey now, that’s hardly the same,” Reynold said, though his tone made it clear he meant it in good humor. “At least doing paperwork in the gardens isn’t likely to get me injured.”
“You don’t know that,” Anders fired back, his tone light and cheery. “How many mages does your father employ again? I’m sure one of them could arrange for a fatally poisoned papercut or some such. And with the way you say Caroline carries on, you’d think office work was a deadly illness.”
Reynold chuckled at this. “You’ve got me there.”
Leaning back with his hands on the bench, Anders said with false casualness, “I hope you’re at least making time out of your busy schedule for your new wife. Been getting to know her much?”
“Er, I mean, I’m not that busy,” was Reynold’s reply, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Chamile is nice. In fact, we went to visit one of the old cathedrals the other day.”
Anders’ expression became less teasing, and he chuckled softly. “Well I’m glad you two are getting on, even if you weren’t as enthused about it as Joffery was on your behalf.”
“To be fair, it’s hard to be as enthused as Joffery about much anything,” Reynold admitted, shaking his head. “But yeah, I think we’re both glad it turned out as well as it did.”
And, as if summoned by the discussion concerning her, a young woman poked her head around the corner of the nearest garden wall, and sighed in relief. “There you are,” said Chamile Jade, who had been Chamile Accipiter a relatively short time ago. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Caroline is…” She spotted Anders, and with only a slight pause, said, “She’s getting... agitated.” Her eyebrows moved up and down a little in silent emphasis. “We might want to avoid the library for a while.”
Anders coughed into his fist to hide a laugh, and Reynold let out a sigh. “Not again,” Reynold said. “I wonder what she’s upset about this time.”
“I can’t comment, I was insufferable at her age too,” Anders said ruefully.
“…True,” Reynold admitted. “I was definitely… not my best at that age.”
“I was an angel at twelve,” Chamile put in, though her smile was a hint too sharp and the batting of her eyes too exaggerated to be genuine.
Anders’ grin widened. “So I take it this is the Lady Chamile I’ve heard so much about? You going to give her a proper noble introduction, Reynold?”
“Oh! That’s right, I’ve been meaning to introduce you.” Reynold set his paperwork aside for the moment so he could stand. “Anders, this is my wife, Lady Chamile. Chamile, this is my friend, Lieutenant Anders Escalus.”
Anders rose as well, bowing at the hip with both hands clasped behind his back- a military officer’s gesture to a noble, not the greeting of one noble to another. He hadn’t after all, been a noble in some decades. Despite this formal gesture, his tone was light as he straightened and said, “A pleasure, m’lady. I’ve been looking forward to making your acquaintance.”
Growing up with certain noble families made it easy to avoid an outright flicker in an expression - but there was certainly something suddenly different in Chamile’s smile and posture as she gave the fireknight a small curtsey. With the same slight hesitation she’d had when adjusting her description of Caroline, Chamile replied, “Thank you, Lieutenant. You...must be the fireknight friend Reynold’s mentioned?” She looked over at her husband.
Reynold nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
Anders blinked- Reynold didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss, but something was definitely a bit more… distant about his wife’s bearing. Hadn’t she just been joking with them a few seconds before?
“That’s most likely me, yes,” he said, forcing himself to remain pleasant despite the prickling of unease in his spine. “I hope he’s only told you good things about me and not all of his childhood naughtiness I covered for.”
Chamile wasn’t quite able to conceal a twitch of stiffness in her shoulders at that.“Ah - no, he...he actually hasn’t told me very much about you just yet.” She gave him a thin smile. “I hope he wasn’t doing anything too disobedient in his childhood.”
“No more than do most kids that age,” Anders assured her hurriedly, able to plainly read that this had been the wrong thing to say, though it baffled him she’d reacted to it poorly. Hadn’t she just been joking about her own misbehavior as a child? “And even though I told him off for saying as much at the time, it was mostly at Joffery’s instigation. They wanted to see phoenixes, snuck off without permission, and I promised not to report it as long as I didn’t catch them in the mews unattended again.” He forced a laugh. “Before he was singing for girls, phoenixes were Joffery’s favorite audience.”
“Er, yeah, I really wanted to see the phoenixes, myself.” Reynold shifted slightly, sensing the tension. “But Anders has been a good friend of mine ever since.”
Chamile made a small, considering noise. “I see. Well - hopefully I’ll get to learn more about you, Lieutenant.” She glanced at Reynold again, and then, after a just too long moment, snapped her fingers and said, “Oh - ah, Reynold, I just remembered, I think I am going to need something out of the library. Would you mind coming along to help me pacify Caroline?”
“Oh. Er…” Reynold frowned, sending Anders a concerned glance. “I suppose so.”
“Ah- alright, that’s understandable,” Anders said, by now having defaulted to standing attention with the same sort of politely impassive expression he wore with his fireknight superiors. “Another time then- don’t forget your paperwork, Reynold.”
“Right, right.” Reynold quickly gathered up his papers, sending Anders one last awkward smile before following after his wife.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Chamile said with a glance over her shoulder; for just a second, her expression looked a bit uncertain, before she snapped her gaze forward again. Anders felt his gut knotting, and though he kept his expression neutral while there was still a chance of Chamile or Reynold looking back, as soon as they were out of view he slumped down onto one of the stone benches and bit his lip.
That… that was odd. Not behavior he would’ve found amiss from some nobility, but he wouldn’t have started making jokes if she hadn’t essentially started it!
Although- her demeanor had changed before his joke, now that he thought about it. Only slightly, but he was raised noble- he’d seen the shutters going down. But why? In reaction to what? All Reynold had done was introduce him-
Oh… oh.
“I am a blind idiot,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. Reynold had introduced him. Introduced him as Anders Escalus. Of bloody course his wife, who lived in Jade manor, would know about Heather’s crimes! Of course she’d immediately draw the connection between them!
Anders felt sick. He didn’t even know his sister, not really. He hadn’t seen her since she was three years old. His strongest memory of her was of watching as their mother tried to teach her the color blue and her cheerfully squeaking “G’een!” over and over, for mercy’s sake!
I don’t even know what happened; not really, he realized. Only that she’s been drugging him with potions and they have a child. I can’t be an accessory to a crime I barely understand!
What was the worst was that part of Anders felt guilty. Even if he’d personally done nothing wrong, his entire lense on this scandal was as a hapless estranged relative having fingers pointed at him. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone so that he could go on pretending Heather didn’t exist. An inherently selfish wish, grown in soil long-tilled by avoiding and running away from his connections to House Escalus.
I don’t know her, and I’m not responsible for her, but… she’s still my sister, he concluded grimly, rising to his feet. If I can, I should still at least try to make amends to the actual victim.
But first… he needed to understand what exactly Heather had done.
Blast Radius - Part Two
The sky overhead was rumbling ominously when Anders approached the manor again the following day, as it usually did in the early afternoons of Corvid summer. He’d sent ahead a letter to Reynold the previous night, and had gotten a reply back fairly early this morning confirming his request to meet- and not as a social call this time.
Anders was still somewhat surprised, however, to find that as he ducked through the manor gates, Reynold was not waiting for him alone.
“...Joffery?” Anders said, blinking in confusion. Hastily inclining his head, he amended, “Ah, Lord Joffery, I suppose I should say? It’s been a while; you seem well.”
“I am, thank you!” the Jade heir replied, a cheerful smile on his face as always. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the nursery lately with the children. They are so delightful!”
“Speaking of that,” Reynold spoke up, “I asked him to be here because I thought he’d be more qualified to talk about… what happened.”
“Ah, yes.” All at once, Joffery’s smile faded, taking on a somber expression more befitting his noble status. “I understand you wished to talk about your sister?”
“Mm,” Anders nodded. “Most of what I know I’ve heard by way of the rumor mill… which keeps making its way to me on account of a shared surname. I’m sure I don’t need to tell either of you that the rumor mill likes to jump to conclusions based on circumstantial evidence.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to know the truth of the crime I’m being implicated in. And… I guess part of me does feel responsible. I haven’t seen Heather since she was a toddler, but…”
“It’s not your fault,” Reynold assured him. “And no one should hold you accountable for what Heather did.”
“…Regardless, rumors are as rumors are.” Joffery sighed, shaking his head. “Where should I begin?”
“I… don’t really know,” Anders admitted. “All I know is the very broad strokes of the matter- that Heather drugged Lord Oberon’s heir with a love potion. So… as close to the beginning as you know.”
“Alright.” Joffery paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “As far as I understand it, it started when Cyril—Lord Oberon—decided to take classes at the Iphicles Institute, something short of three years ago. There he met Heather… I’m not certain how long they knew each other, or how close they were, but apparently that’s when she started giving him love potions.”
Anders nodded slowly- that made sense. The Iphicles Institute was a warmage school run by House Escalus out of their home city of Heleos. Attending the Institute would’ve put Lord Oberon in easy reach of Heather, and out of the protective range of his father’s knights.
“But… why?” Anders asked. “If she just wanted to marry him, couldn’t my father… or Filipe, I suppose, depending on when this all happened relative to my father’s death- couldn’t they have arranged something with Lord Oberon’s father?”
“I’m not fully sure of her reasons, but, well… I know that it wasn’t just that she wanted to marry him,” Joffery explained carefully. “Apparently she went after him because he’s the heir of House Oberon.”
“She wanted power,” Reynold clarified. “No matter what it took, apparently.”
“I’m sorry to say,” Joffery added, “that your sister is not a kind person.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Anders retorted dryly. “I’m not under any delusions she would’ve drugged him with potions over a crush. I only meant that if she wanted to marry into a powerful family that still could’ve been arranged legally.” He sighed. “I don’t pretend to like everything that goes into being noble, but I spent long enough in the life to understand how these things work.”
Anders folded his arms, looking down. “Though I suppose if she wanted to be the one wielding all the power, not just to marry into influence she couldn’t have as a younger sibling in her birth family… effectively brainwashing the Oberon heir would give her that. I don’t entirely know how love potions work, but... I can take a guess.”
“…Yes, that would make sense,” Joffery conceded with a thoughtful frown. “By the time we came into the picture, Cyril seemed entirely incapable of making his own decisions, nor focusing on anything besides his wife. That’s how I noticed that something was wrong.”
The fireknight winced, hissing softly. “Yes, that… would set off alarm bells. Frankly if he was that poorly off I’m surprised nobody noticed sooner.”
“Yeah, it’s… concerning,” Reynold admitted, shifting his weight slightly. “Maybe it happened too gradually for them to notice…?”
Anders sighed, his gaze turned inwards. “Thinking on it… Sometimes your family misses things because they’re standing too close to the situation to see what’s glaringly obvious from the outside. Bias is a powerful thing- if Lord Cyril’s family wanted to believe he was happy, it would’ve been easier to keep thinking that then to to consider any alternatives.”
Reynold frowned sympathetically, as Joffery nodded in sad agreement. “It is hard to accept,” Joffery said, “that someone so close to you could be going through something so awful.”
“Harder still to accept when you might have some culpability in it.” Anders folded his arms, seeming lost in thought for a moment. Finally he turned back to the Jades, tentatively saying, “Is he… all right now?”
“He’s… recovering,” was Joffery’s response. “Apparently taking mind-altering potions for as long as he did is not kind to a man. But at the very least, he’s in good hands now.”
Anders nodded, then, his voice very soft, he said, “I heard he… has a child?”
“…Yes,” Joffery replied solemnly. “His name is Priam, nearly two years old.” He hesitated a moment, before continuing, “That was… the other reason I noticed something was wrong. He was very reserved for his age, timid even. It seemed neither Cyril nor Heather paid him the attention he deserves.”
At this Anders clenched his teeth, though he seemed unsurprised. “I was… afraid of that. After you said Cyril was fixated on Heather, and considering the sort of person she’d have to be to do all of this…” Anders gave a sad, bitter laugh. “If he’s anything like I was, he’d probably do anything that was asked of him just for a bit of honest affection.”
“I can’t say much for certain, with him being so young,” Joffery admitted. “However, when I first met him, he acted as though he needed his mother’s permission for every action.”
“He’s getting better, though,” Reynold offered, hoping to alleviate the dismal mood a bit. “We’ve been taking care of him in our nursery while Cyril recovers.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Joffery confirmed, a hint of a smile returning to his face. “He’s a sweet child. And he seems to get along well with the other children.”
“That makes for good hearing,” Anders said, meaning it. “Still- if there’s anything I can do to help, please just name it. I left the Escaluses a long, long time ago, but I still carry the family name and… I feel like I should atone for whatever guilt-by-association I may carry. Woo knows the court of public opinion seems to have decided upon my guilt, and I…” he swallowed hard. “I can’t in good conscience just dismiss the issue and pretend it doesn’t matter. Not as an Escalus, nor as a decent human being.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Reynold insisted. “What Heather did is not your fault.”
“Regardless, if you’d like to help…” Joffery paused to think on this. “There isn’t much we can do for Cyril while he’s recovering… perhaps you’d like to meet Priam?”
This suggestion actually startled a wry laugh out of the fireknight. “Ah, yes- a meeting with the uncle who hasn’t spoken to any of their family in so long his mother likely doesn’t even remember him. I appreciate the thought, but as nice as that would be it… doesn’t feel like it’s really my place.”
“I think he would appreciate the company, but… I understand your reservations,” Joffery said, frowning in thought. “I’m not sure what else you could do, though. But if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m sure he would, I just don’t know that his family or mine would appreciate my interference,” Anders said ruefully. “I’m glad you still trust me enough to offer such a thing, at least.”
Joffery nodded. “Of course.”
“And if there’s anything else we can do, let us know,” Reynold added. “If there’s anything else you want to know, or if you just want to talk, anything.”
Anders rubbed the back of his head. “Well… if you could maybe talk to Chamile? I get the impression she’s heard the ah… less than flattering rumors, and probably doesn’t have a whole lot of context for just how long it’s been since I had contact with anybody from House Escalus, let alone my sister. I don’t want to cause tension or anything!” He added hurriedly. “But ah…”
“Ah, yeah.” Reynold frowned, recalling the awkward meeting the day before. “I can talk to her about it.”
“Thank you,” the fireknight said. “I should probably let you both get back to more important matters, but thank you for talking to me. I wish Lord Oberon and his family all the best.”
“Of course,” Joffery replied. “I’m glad we could help.”
“I’m sorry you had to get caught up in all this,” Reynold added. “Hopefully this will all blow over soon.”
“Thanks,” Anders said. “With any luck, hm? I’ll see you both later.”
“Alright men,” Anders called, his voice sharp and authoritative. “I know what you’re all thinking- ‘this is going to be boring as sin. This is going to be like watching paint dry. Flying over a wagon is torture.’ Yes, Summerby, don’t look at me like that, I’m not as hard of hearing as you think I am.” The lieutenant let the faintest hint of a smirk pull at his lips as the blonde fireknight looked abashed. “Boring it may be, but it’s necessary. Nobody can ride out to meet an oncoming wagon at the border of Rindfell as quickly as a phoenix can, and the reports of bandits on that road have been too frequent for Major Marlowe’s liking. So I don’t want to hear any bellyaching.”
He swept his eyes over the men of his wing that were presently gathered in the mews, saddling their phoenixes, briefly pausing at the newly promoted youngest member- Tyndall, who had replaced one of the number retired the previous year- but finding no fault with newbie’s work. His eyes came to rest on one man in particular, whose face was marred with a thick dotting of burn scars. “Any last-minute considerations before takeoff, Sir Shahar?”
Cai Shahar, finishing securing a strap on his phoenix’s saddle, paused a moment, his eyes darting upward as if he were looking up at an invisible list. “...No, Lieutenant,” he said after a moment. “I believe everything has been attended to and accounted for, and we’re still on schedule to avoid the worst of any evening storms.”
“Tamir will appreciate that,” the earlier-chided Summerby quipped, and a chuckle rippled through the gathered men. Cai’s phoenix was not known for his fondness of getting wet. Cai smiled slightly, patting his phoenix’s neck, and Tamir, reacting either to that, the sound of his name, or perhaps somehow the news that he wouldn’t be soaked, whistled a few cheerful notes in reply.
Anders gave soft laugh, then shook his head and made a beckoning gesture with his hand. “C’mon, then. The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can beat the rain.”
He led the way out of the mews, his own phoenix Mirja following him without any command from her rider. She was used to the routine by now, and knew if she was being saddled up it meant that very soon they would be going flying.
No sooner than did squad there arrive in the landing court, however, then did Anders realize something was off. The court, which should have been empty, was presently occupied by a group of fireknights that was taking off at haste. Anders pinched his brow, glancing at Cai with confusion writ plainly in his steel-grey eyes.
“Am I… misremembering the schedule?” he asked his Right Wedge uncertainly. “That looked like squad four, but I could have sworn they had the morning off.”
Cai stared at the departing flock. “I...I thought so, too. Possibly there was an emergency?” He hesitated, but then admitted, “It does seem strange that we wouldn’t have heard about one, though. And that the assignment would go to a squad that wasn’t on-duty.”
“Last minute change of plans,” a new voice called, and the fireknights all turned to see the man they recognized as the fireknight’s diplomatic liaison- a curmudgeonly older man who relayed to them when the Jades wanted something of the fireknights directly, or when Personages Of Note were in need of guarding. He was walking over to squad three with a distinctly annoyed expression on his face. “Squad four will be escorting the convoy from Rindfell- you will take their patrol this afternoon.”
“What- why?” Summerby asked, baffled. “‘Ey can’t ‘ave had time to get gear and supplies together on such short notice.”
“And our squad was ready to go and on time,” Cai added, his voice level but his fist a touch tighter around Tamir’s reins than it would usually be, particularly as he added, “We were early, even.”
“Well I only just found out that Major Marlowe was planning to send your squad out on this assignment an hour ago,” the liason sniffed. “And as soon as I realized I knew it couldn’t be allowed. If the Rindfellians took offense-”
“Took offense? To what exactly?” Anders demanded. “These aren’t Bernians, it isn’t like they were going to be mad about Sir Casca’s wand, that you needed to send another group for diplomatic purposes. We’re well able to handle ourselves with some Rindfellian trade lord.”
The liason snorted. “Come off it, Escalus, you know exactly why.”
Anders stiffened, his face going blank with shock.
Cai glanced between the two for a moment, then squared his shoulders and looked to the liaison. “Perhaps you misunderstood; I believe our lieutenant requested a proper explanation.”
“Oh for- please don’t play dense, Sir Shahar, it ill becomes you. Your wife is a diplomat, yes?” He glanced at one of the other fireknights in the third squad, one who was related through a cadet-line to House Topaza. “Or perhaps Sir Hawthorne can explain to you all the implications of sending a criminal’s brother on a diplomatic assignment?”
Hawthorne physically drew back as if the suggestion were a slap; beside him, Casca snapped an appalled ”What?!” that Tyndall was barely a breath in echoing, and Summerby bellowed, “You sunova-”
Cai, apparently taking the liasion’s exasperated statement to heart, said, “I believe my wife would explain to the Rindfellians that said criminal’s brother had been estranged from the family for years, and that the criminal events didn’t even happen on the grounds of the House he serves. What was so complicated about that explanation?”
“No one ever forgets where you come from among the nobility, Sir Shahar,” the liason retorted. Looking over at Mirja, he added, “And firebirds are fast, no? Can get places to communicate collaboration even over distance.”
Anders’ phoenix puffed up her feathers, leaning her neck over her rider’s shoulder and giving voice to an ear-piercing shriek. The other phoenixes, who had already been standing tense and uneasy, showed their own signs of displeasure, puffing their feathers and squawking or hissing like owls. Casca’s phoenix forcefully stomped a talon against the ground.
Casca said, exasperated, “How would he sneak away to Astralagos, even on a phoenix, with nobody noticing?! They’re fast, but not that fast!”
Anders, for his part, had clenched jaw and fist both, shoulders trembling. “It doesn’t sound like you’re acting out of an excess of caution to my reputation, sirrah,” he growled through his teeth. “It sounds like you’re making accusations.”
Cai, lightly stroking Tamir’s feather’s to soothe him, said, “Agreed - accusations based in rumor and without consulting the people who would know if it was possible. May I ask, was this decision approved by Lord Jade?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, soldier, but as I said, I only found out about this assignment an hour ago,” the liaison retorted. “I had to move quickly. I submit to the official narrative that the House has released on the matter, but my job is to ensure that no political harm comes to House Jade through action or inaction of the fireknights. I made a judgement call.”
“And didn’t get no ‘by your leave’ from the majors or the general even, if I had to guess,” Summerby growled.
“I doubt it,” Tyndall muttered angrily. “Not with the way Major Marlowe has been coming down on anyone on the base he hears even discussing the rumors against the lieutenant.”
“You are impossible! You’re all acting like I’m being unreasonable!” the liason snarled. “It isn’t as if Sir Escalus has a reputation for loyalty, now is it?”
Anders recoiled, the anger vanishing from his expression to be replaced by something that looked very much like hurt.
“...Excuse me?” Cai demanded, actually taking a step toward the man.
Casca, sounding equally appalled, said, “You can’t just speak that way about somebody who’s served the same House’s you for at least half his life so far! As a knight no less, are you mad?”
The liason turned sharply away. “Huffing at me moots nothing, gentlemen; the decision is made and squad four is already gone from the Solis skyline. I suggest you rest up before this evening’s patrol.”
He stalked off, ignoring the angry jeers and catcalls from the men of the third squad. Anders took a long, deep breath, clenching his fingers into Mirja’s feathers. She whistled questioningly, nudging the side of his jaw with her beak. After a moment of awkward silence, he turned to his men with patently forced cheer.
“Well. I guess you all don’t have to do a boring, monotonous circling-flyover of a caravan for the next few days after all!”
Casca broke the startled silence first, insisting, “But for such a stupid reason! I can’t believe he would - what sort half-baked diplomat does he think he is?”
Hawthorne finally seemed to find his voice again; “If the tradesmen know the names of the knights who are supposed to accompany them, this does the opposite of supporting the House’s position. All over unfounded rumors and hearsay!”
“And ‘e flouted every authority the fireknights actually answer to,” Summerby put in. “‘E knew ‘e was in the wrong and that nobody with sense would agree to his fool plan!”
Cai, in a quieter tone, asked, “Should we report this to the House, Lieutenant? I don’t know that they’ll recall the squad, but this is unquestionably unfair.”
Anders looked away, his voice soft. “I’d rather not bother them- they certainly have enough to deal with given everything my sister-” he spat the word, “dumped in their laps. Really, I should’ve expected this. I know I’m standoffish and curt and… he’s not wrong about my history.”
“That shouldn’t matter!” Casca insisted, crossing his arms. “Half of us came to be fireknights at least partly to get away from home, and there’re plenty of fireknights who aren’t outgoing and friendly; you can’t accuse someone of being a criminal just because they don’t have a temperment you like!”
“He’s correct,” Cai said, though he kept his attention on Anders. “Are you sure you don’t want to report him? I imagine the Lords Jade would want to know; the man is partially in charge of how they’re represented.”
Anders sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I… suppose that is a valid point. If nothing else they can affirm if he’s actually supposed to be superseding as much authority as he’s done.” He coughed, trying to draw himself up as best he could given how shaken he still was. “And I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that, it was unprofessional.”
Tyndall cleared his throat, tentatively saying, “I haven’t known you as long as everyone else, Lieutenant, but for what it’s worth I agree with them- you’ve done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment, and that boneheaded aughtn’t get away with punishing you for something you had no part in. Any man would be upset.”
Cai nodded his agreement. “There’s a difference between losing one’s temper, and righteous anger. None of the rest of us kept ourselves quiet, either.” He tilted his head slightly, studying Anders a moment before saying, “I could deliver the report, if you’d like.”
The Lieutenant seemed to consider it, then slowly nodded. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that. I feel that if I were to go to them about it, considering I’m the subject of the man’s reproach, it’d seem less impartial.” He forced a long, slow breath in, then gave the wing a crooked smile. “And ah- I do appreciate it. You all speaking for my part. Thank you.”
“‘Course, Lieutenant,” Casca said. “And if the report doesn’t work, we can always fly the phoenixes real low and let them give the prat a new haircut.”
“With talons or tailfire?” Summerby quipped. “Imagine ‘ey’d enjoy the later more, but t’ former’d be more controlled.”
“You underestimate them,” Tyndall put in. “I think they could pull it off.”
“No,” Anders cut in with mock sternness. “Behave, gentlemen, we’re trying to convince him I’m not a criminal.”
“Well, how much does his opinion matter if he’s forced to retire from embarrassment?” Casca countered, though he did sigh and add, “We won’t really antagonize him, though, sir. We don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“And hang wot that idiot says about loyalty,” Summerby put in. “You’ve almost died for House Jade how many times? And wot’s the most ‘e’s risked, a papercut?” The blond’s jaw tightened. “You’re a good man, don’t matter wot he thinks.”
The others nodded firmly in agreement, Hawthorne adding in a low voice, “And he isn’t much of a liaison if he hasn’t read enough mission reports to know that.”
Anders closed his eyes momentarily, taking a long, slow breath in, then he smiled and looked over his men. “Thank you. It helps, to be reminded sometimes.” With a soft chuckle he added, “I should probably go get prepared for that patrol we’re covering this afternoon, lest I embarrass myself by hanging around and getting all choked like a pretty young airhead in a romantic ballad.”
He started back to the mews, adding, “I’ll see to Tamir if you think he’ll let me, Shahar- least I can do for you running all the way to the manor on my account.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Tamir to behave,” Cai said with utmost seriousness. “If he’s wise, he’ll let you take care of him; but I’ll come back to the mews after sending the report in case he’s feeling uncooperative today. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised; dealing with that man has left me in a cranky mood as well.”
Anders was still somewhat surprised, however, to find that as he ducked through the manor gates, Reynold was not waiting for him alone.
“...Joffery?” Anders said, blinking in confusion. Hastily inclining his head, he amended, “Ah, Lord Joffery, I suppose I should say? It’s been a while; you seem well.”
“I am, thank you!” the Jade heir replied, a cheerful smile on his face as always. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in the nursery lately with the children. They are so delightful!”
“Speaking of that,” Reynold spoke up, “I asked him to be here because I thought he’d be more qualified to talk about… what happened.”
“Ah, yes.” All at once, Joffery’s smile faded, taking on a somber expression more befitting his noble status. “I understand you wished to talk about your sister?”
“Mm,” Anders nodded. “Most of what I know I’ve heard by way of the rumor mill… which keeps making its way to me on account of a shared surname. I’m sure I don’t need to tell either of you that the rumor mill likes to jump to conclusions based on circumstantial evidence.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to know the truth of the crime I’m being implicated in. And… I guess part of me does feel responsible. I haven’t seen Heather since she was a toddler, but…”
“It’s not your fault,” Reynold assured him. “And no one should hold you accountable for what Heather did.”
“…Regardless, rumors are as rumors are.” Joffery sighed, shaking his head. “Where should I begin?”
“I… don’t really know,” Anders admitted. “All I know is the very broad strokes of the matter- that Heather drugged Lord Oberon’s heir with a love potion. So… as close to the beginning as you know.”
“Alright.” Joffery paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “As far as I understand it, it started when Cyril—Lord Oberon—decided to take classes at the Iphicles Institute, something short of three years ago. There he met Heather… I’m not certain how long they knew each other, or how close they were, but apparently that’s when she started giving him love potions.”
Anders nodded slowly- that made sense. The Iphicles Institute was a warmage school run by House Escalus out of their home city of Heleos. Attending the Institute would’ve put Lord Oberon in easy reach of Heather, and out of the protective range of his father’s knights.
“But… why?” Anders asked. “If she just wanted to marry him, couldn’t my father… or Filipe, I suppose, depending on when this all happened relative to my father’s death- couldn’t they have arranged something with Lord Oberon’s father?”
“I’m not fully sure of her reasons, but, well… I know that it wasn’t just that she wanted to marry him,” Joffery explained carefully. “Apparently she went after him because he’s the heir of House Oberon.”
“She wanted power,” Reynold clarified. “No matter what it took, apparently.”
“I’m sorry to say,” Joffery added, “that your sister is not a kind person.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Anders retorted dryly. “I’m not under any delusions she would’ve drugged him with potions over a crush. I only meant that if she wanted to marry into a powerful family that still could’ve been arranged legally.” He sighed. “I don’t pretend to like everything that goes into being noble, but I spent long enough in the life to understand how these things work.”
Anders folded his arms, looking down. “Though I suppose if she wanted to be the one wielding all the power, not just to marry into influence she couldn’t have as a younger sibling in her birth family… effectively brainwashing the Oberon heir would give her that. I don’t entirely know how love potions work, but... I can take a guess.”
“…Yes, that would make sense,” Joffery conceded with a thoughtful frown. “By the time we came into the picture, Cyril seemed entirely incapable of making his own decisions, nor focusing on anything besides his wife. That’s how I noticed that something was wrong.”
The fireknight winced, hissing softly. “Yes, that… would set off alarm bells. Frankly if he was that poorly off I’m surprised nobody noticed sooner.”
“Yeah, it’s… concerning,” Reynold admitted, shifting his weight slightly. “Maybe it happened too gradually for them to notice…?”
Anders sighed, his gaze turned inwards. “Thinking on it… Sometimes your family misses things because they’re standing too close to the situation to see what’s glaringly obvious from the outside. Bias is a powerful thing- if Lord Cyril’s family wanted to believe he was happy, it would’ve been easier to keep thinking that then to to consider any alternatives.”
Reynold frowned sympathetically, as Joffery nodded in sad agreement. “It is hard to accept,” Joffery said, “that someone so close to you could be going through something so awful.”
“Harder still to accept when you might have some culpability in it.” Anders folded his arms, seeming lost in thought for a moment. Finally he turned back to the Jades, tentatively saying, “Is he… all right now?”
“He’s… recovering,” was Joffery’s response. “Apparently taking mind-altering potions for as long as he did is not kind to a man. But at the very least, he’s in good hands now.”
Anders nodded, then, his voice very soft, he said, “I heard he… has a child?”
“…Yes,” Joffery replied solemnly. “His name is Priam, nearly two years old.” He hesitated a moment, before continuing, “That was… the other reason I noticed something was wrong. He was very reserved for his age, timid even. It seemed neither Cyril nor Heather paid him the attention he deserves.”
At this Anders clenched his teeth, though he seemed unsurprised. “I was… afraid of that. After you said Cyril was fixated on Heather, and considering the sort of person she’d have to be to do all of this…” Anders gave a sad, bitter laugh. “If he’s anything like I was, he’d probably do anything that was asked of him just for a bit of honest affection.”
“I can’t say much for certain, with him being so young,” Joffery admitted. “However, when I first met him, he acted as though he needed his mother’s permission for every action.”
“He’s getting better, though,” Reynold offered, hoping to alleviate the dismal mood a bit. “We’ve been taking care of him in our nursery while Cyril recovers.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Joffery confirmed, a hint of a smile returning to his face. “He’s a sweet child. And he seems to get along well with the other children.”
“That makes for good hearing,” Anders said, meaning it. “Still- if there’s anything I can do to help, please just name it. I left the Escaluses a long, long time ago, but I still carry the family name and… I feel like I should atone for whatever guilt-by-association I may carry. Woo knows the court of public opinion seems to have decided upon my guilt, and I…” he swallowed hard. “I can’t in good conscience just dismiss the issue and pretend it doesn’t matter. Not as an Escalus, nor as a decent human being.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Reynold insisted. “What Heather did is not your fault.”
“Regardless, if you’d like to help…” Joffery paused to think on this. “There isn’t much we can do for Cyril while he’s recovering… perhaps you’d like to meet Priam?”
This suggestion actually startled a wry laugh out of the fireknight. “Ah, yes- a meeting with the uncle who hasn’t spoken to any of their family in so long his mother likely doesn’t even remember him. I appreciate the thought, but as nice as that would be it… doesn’t feel like it’s really my place.”
“I think he would appreciate the company, but… I understand your reservations,” Joffery said, frowning in thought. “I’m not sure what else you could do, though. But if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m sure he would, I just don’t know that his family or mine would appreciate my interference,” Anders said ruefully. “I’m glad you still trust me enough to offer such a thing, at least.”
Joffery nodded. “Of course.”
“And if there’s anything else we can do, let us know,” Reynold added. “If there’s anything else you want to know, or if you just want to talk, anything.”
Anders rubbed the back of his head. “Well… if you could maybe talk to Chamile? I get the impression she’s heard the ah… less than flattering rumors, and probably doesn’t have a whole lot of context for just how long it’s been since I had contact with anybody from House Escalus, let alone my sister. I don’t want to cause tension or anything!” He added hurriedly. “But ah…”
“Ah, yeah.” Reynold frowned, recalling the awkward meeting the day before. “I can talk to her about it.”
“Thank you,” the fireknight said. “I should probably let you both get back to more important matters, but thank you for talking to me. I wish Lord Oberon and his family all the best.”
“Of course,” Joffery replied. “I’m glad we could help.”
“I’m sorry you had to get caught up in all this,” Reynold added. “Hopefully this will all blow over soon.”
“Thanks,” Anders said. “With any luck, hm? I’ll see you both later.”
* * *
“Alright men,” Anders called, his voice sharp and authoritative. “I know what you’re all thinking- ‘this is going to be boring as sin. This is going to be like watching paint dry. Flying over a wagon is torture.’ Yes, Summerby, don’t look at me like that, I’m not as hard of hearing as you think I am.” The lieutenant let the faintest hint of a smirk pull at his lips as the blonde fireknight looked abashed. “Boring it may be, but it’s necessary. Nobody can ride out to meet an oncoming wagon at the border of Rindfell as quickly as a phoenix can, and the reports of bandits on that road have been too frequent for Major Marlowe’s liking. So I don’t want to hear any bellyaching.”
He swept his eyes over the men of his wing that were presently gathered in the mews, saddling their phoenixes, briefly pausing at the newly promoted youngest member- Tyndall, who had replaced one of the number retired the previous year- but finding no fault with newbie’s work. His eyes came to rest on one man in particular, whose face was marred with a thick dotting of burn scars. “Any last-minute considerations before takeoff, Sir Shahar?”
Cai Shahar, finishing securing a strap on his phoenix’s saddle, paused a moment, his eyes darting upward as if he were looking up at an invisible list. “...No, Lieutenant,” he said after a moment. “I believe everything has been attended to and accounted for, and we’re still on schedule to avoid the worst of any evening storms.”
“Tamir will appreciate that,” the earlier-chided Summerby quipped, and a chuckle rippled through the gathered men. Cai’s phoenix was not known for his fondness of getting wet. Cai smiled slightly, patting his phoenix’s neck, and Tamir, reacting either to that, the sound of his name, or perhaps somehow the news that he wouldn’t be soaked, whistled a few cheerful notes in reply.
Anders gave soft laugh, then shook his head and made a beckoning gesture with his hand. “C’mon, then. The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can beat the rain.”
He led the way out of the mews, his own phoenix Mirja following him without any command from her rider. She was used to the routine by now, and knew if she was being saddled up it meant that very soon they would be going flying.
No sooner than did squad there arrive in the landing court, however, then did Anders realize something was off. The court, which should have been empty, was presently occupied by a group of fireknights that was taking off at haste. Anders pinched his brow, glancing at Cai with confusion writ plainly in his steel-grey eyes.
“Am I… misremembering the schedule?” he asked his Right Wedge uncertainly. “That looked like squad four, but I could have sworn they had the morning off.”
Cai stared at the departing flock. “I...I thought so, too. Possibly there was an emergency?” He hesitated, but then admitted, “It does seem strange that we wouldn’t have heard about one, though. And that the assignment would go to a squad that wasn’t on-duty.”
“Last minute change of plans,” a new voice called, and the fireknights all turned to see the man they recognized as the fireknight’s diplomatic liaison- a curmudgeonly older man who relayed to them when the Jades wanted something of the fireknights directly, or when Personages Of Note were in need of guarding. He was walking over to squad three with a distinctly annoyed expression on his face. “Squad four will be escorting the convoy from Rindfell- you will take their patrol this afternoon.”
“What- why?” Summerby asked, baffled. “‘Ey can’t ‘ave had time to get gear and supplies together on such short notice.”
“And our squad was ready to go and on time,” Cai added, his voice level but his fist a touch tighter around Tamir’s reins than it would usually be, particularly as he added, “We were early, even.”
“Well I only just found out that Major Marlowe was planning to send your squad out on this assignment an hour ago,” the liason sniffed. “And as soon as I realized I knew it couldn’t be allowed. If the Rindfellians took offense-”
“Took offense? To what exactly?” Anders demanded. “These aren’t Bernians, it isn’t like they were going to be mad about Sir Casca’s wand, that you needed to send another group for diplomatic purposes. We’re well able to handle ourselves with some Rindfellian trade lord.”
The liason snorted. “Come off it, Escalus, you know exactly why.”
Anders stiffened, his face going blank with shock.
Cai glanced between the two for a moment, then squared his shoulders and looked to the liaison. “Perhaps you misunderstood; I believe our lieutenant requested a proper explanation.”
“Oh for- please don’t play dense, Sir Shahar, it ill becomes you. Your wife is a diplomat, yes?” He glanced at one of the other fireknights in the third squad, one who was related through a cadet-line to House Topaza. “Or perhaps Sir Hawthorne can explain to you all the implications of sending a criminal’s brother on a diplomatic assignment?”
Hawthorne physically drew back as if the suggestion were a slap; beside him, Casca snapped an appalled ”What?!” that Tyndall was barely a breath in echoing, and Summerby bellowed, “You sunova-”
Cai, apparently taking the liasion’s exasperated statement to heart, said, “I believe my wife would explain to the Rindfellians that said criminal’s brother had been estranged from the family for years, and that the criminal events didn’t even happen on the grounds of the House he serves. What was so complicated about that explanation?”
“No one ever forgets where you come from among the nobility, Sir Shahar,” the liason retorted. Looking over at Mirja, he added, “And firebirds are fast, no? Can get places to communicate collaboration even over distance.”
Anders’ phoenix puffed up her feathers, leaning her neck over her rider’s shoulder and giving voice to an ear-piercing shriek. The other phoenixes, who had already been standing tense and uneasy, showed their own signs of displeasure, puffing their feathers and squawking or hissing like owls. Casca’s phoenix forcefully stomped a talon against the ground.
Casca said, exasperated, “How would he sneak away to Astralagos, even on a phoenix, with nobody noticing?! They’re fast, but not that fast!”
Anders, for his part, had clenched jaw and fist both, shoulders trembling. “It doesn’t sound like you’re acting out of an excess of caution to my reputation, sirrah,” he growled through his teeth. “It sounds like you’re making accusations.”
Cai, lightly stroking Tamir’s feather’s to soothe him, said, “Agreed - accusations based in rumor and without consulting the people who would know if it was possible. May I ask, was this decision approved by Lord Jade?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, soldier, but as I said, I only found out about this assignment an hour ago,” the liaison retorted. “I had to move quickly. I submit to the official narrative that the House has released on the matter, but my job is to ensure that no political harm comes to House Jade through action or inaction of the fireknights. I made a judgement call.”
“And didn’t get no ‘by your leave’ from the majors or the general even, if I had to guess,” Summerby growled.
“I doubt it,” Tyndall muttered angrily. “Not with the way Major Marlowe has been coming down on anyone on the base he hears even discussing the rumors against the lieutenant.”
“You are impossible! You’re all acting like I’m being unreasonable!” the liason snarled. “It isn’t as if Sir Escalus has a reputation for loyalty, now is it?”
Anders recoiled, the anger vanishing from his expression to be replaced by something that looked very much like hurt.
“...Excuse me?” Cai demanded, actually taking a step toward the man.
Casca, sounding equally appalled, said, “You can’t just speak that way about somebody who’s served the same House’s you for at least half his life so far! As a knight no less, are you mad?”
The liason turned sharply away. “Huffing at me moots nothing, gentlemen; the decision is made and squad four is already gone from the Solis skyline. I suggest you rest up before this evening’s patrol.”
He stalked off, ignoring the angry jeers and catcalls from the men of the third squad. Anders took a long, deep breath, clenching his fingers into Mirja’s feathers. She whistled questioningly, nudging the side of his jaw with her beak. After a moment of awkward silence, he turned to his men with patently forced cheer.
“Well. I guess you all don’t have to do a boring, monotonous circling-flyover of a caravan for the next few days after all!”
Casca broke the startled silence first, insisting, “But for such a stupid reason! I can’t believe he would - what sort half-baked diplomat does he think he is?”
Hawthorne finally seemed to find his voice again; “If the tradesmen know the names of the knights who are supposed to accompany them, this does the opposite of supporting the House’s position. All over unfounded rumors and hearsay!”
“And ‘e flouted every authority the fireknights actually answer to,” Summerby put in. “‘E knew ‘e was in the wrong and that nobody with sense would agree to his fool plan!”
Cai, in a quieter tone, asked, “Should we report this to the House, Lieutenant? I don’t know that they’ll recall the squad, but this is unquestionably unfair.”
Anders looked away, his voice soft. “I’d rather not bother them- they certainly have enough to deal with given everything my sister-” he spat the word, “dumped in their laps. Really, I should’ve expected this. I know I’m standoffish and curt and… he’s not wrong about my history.”
“That shouldn’t matter!” Casca insisted, crossing his arms. “Half of us came to be fireknights at least partly to get away from home, and there’re plenty of fireknights who aren’t outgoing and friendly; you can’t accuse someone of being a criminal just because they don’t have a temperment you like!”
“He’s correct,” Cai said, though he kept his attention on Anders. “Are you sure you don’t want to report him? I imagine the Lords Jade would want to know; the man is partially in charge of how they’re represented.”
Anders sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I… suppose that is a valid point. If nothing else they can affirm if he’s actually supposed to be superseding as much authority as he’s done.” He coughed, trying to draw himself up as best he could given how shaken he still was. “And I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that, it was unprofessional.”
Tyndall cleared his throat, tentatively saying, “I haven’t known you as long as everyone else, Lieutenant, but for what it’s worth I agree with them- you’ve done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment, and that boneheaded aughtn’t get away with punishing you for something you had no part in. Any man would be upset.”
Cai nodded his agreement. “There’s a difference between losing one’s temper, and righteous anger. None of the rest of us kept ourselves quiet, either.” He tilted his head slightly, studying Anders a moment before saying, “I could deliver the report, if you’d like.”
The Lieutenant seemed to consider it, then slowly nodded. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that. I feel that if I were to go to them about it, considering I’m the subject of the man’s reproach, it’d seem less impartial.” He forced a long, slow breath in, then gave the wing a crooked smile. “And ah- I do appreciate it. You all speaking for my part. Thank you.”
“‘Course, Lieutenant,” Casca said. “And if the report doesn’t work, we can always fly the phoenixes real low and let them give the prat a new haircut.”
“With talons or tailfire?” Summerby quipped. “Imagine ‘ey’d enjoy the later more, but t’ former’d be more controlled.”
“You underestimate them,” Tyndall put in. “I think they could pull it off.”
“No,” Anders cut in with mock sternness. “Behave, gentlemen, we’re trying to convince him I’m not a criminal.”
“Well, how much does his opinion matter if he’s forced to retire from embarrassment?” Casca countered, though he did sigh and add, “We won’t really antagonize him, though, sir. We don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“And hang wot that idiot says about loyalty,” Summerby put in. “You’ve almost died for House Jade how many times? And wot’s the most ‘e’s risked, a papercut?” The blond’s jaw tightened. “You’re a good man, don’t matter wot he thinks.”
The others nodded firmly in agreement, Hawthorne adding in a low voice, “And he isn’t much of a liaison if he hasn’t read enough mission reports to know that.”
Anders closed his eyes momentarily, taking a long, slow breath in, then he smiled and looked over his men. “Thank you. It helps, to be reminded sometimes.” With a soft chuckle he added, “I should probably go get prepared for that patrol we’re covering this afternoon, lest I embarrass myself by hanging around and getting all choked like a pretty young airhead in a romantic ballad.”
He started back to the mews, adding, “I’ll see to Tamir if you think he’ll let me, Shahar- least I can do for you running all the way to the manor on my account.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Tamir to behave,” Cai said with utmost seriousness. “If he’s wise, he’ll let you take care of him; but I’ll come back to the mews after sending the report in case he’s feeling uncooperative today. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised; dealing with that man has left me in a cranky mood as well.”
Blast Radius - Part Three
To House Escalus,
I, Lord Everett of House Jade, do regretfully inform you of the recent arrest of Lady Heather Oberon née Escalus. While she and her family were visiting Solis on business, it was discovered that she had been dosing her husband, Lord Cyril Escalus, with love potions since before their marriage. She confessed that she did so purposefully in an attempt to take over House Oberon, and is now being held in our custody. Lord Cyril is in recovery, and their son is in our care for the time being.
We believe that Lady Heather was acting of her own accord, and have no reason to believe that she was working under orders of House Escalus. However, her crimes are quite severe, and we are currently in discussions about a possible execution. Any input your House has on the matter is welcome.
I regret that I must be the one to bear this news. Lord Woo be with us all at this difficult time.
Signed,
Lord Everett of House Jade
“What the ‘Pit.”
Dimitri Escalus was presently bent over his older brother’s shoulder, his blonde brows pinched together and his face set with disbelief. Filipe, for his part, was slumped back in the chair behind his desk, long brown hair askew, looking rather like a lost child in a busy city street.
“This is… this is a joke, right?” he demanded of Filipe, who’s only response was to shut his eyes. “Fill, tell me this is a joke.”
“You’ve met Everett Jade, Dimitri,” Filipe retorted, burying his face in his hands. “He doesn’t joke. I don’t think the man smiles.”
Filipe could hear shuffling as Dimitri walked around to the other side of his desk and sat heavily on one of the chairs there. For a moment there was silence between the two. Finally, the blonde said, “So. Our sister is guilty of, at the very least, misuse of magic, coercion, attempted usurpation of House Oberon, and she has a child with Lord Cyril and all that entails…”
“Frankly, Lord Jade wouldn’t be out of line to charge her with high treason,” Filipe put in bitterly, finally lowering his hands to meet his younger brother’s eyes. Blue, the exact shade of his own. “She violated every oath we’re born into as nobility of Kyth, to put the good of the people and the nation ahead of our own glory, to serve faithfully…” He gave a long, slow hiss of frustration. “And she did it all right under our noses.”
Dimitri winced, “Fill, please don’t beat yourself up over-”
“How can I not?” the lord of House Escalus demanded, lunging to his feet, the breeze of his movement sending Lord Everett’s letter wafting a few inches across the desk. “If she claims she’s been dosing Cyril with the potions since before their marriage, that would mean it’s been going on since they were both at the institute. Here. We knew she was ambitious, we knew she was a selfish, spoiled brat, but we still took it at face value when she and Cyril were suddenly deliriously in love.”
The younger of the Escalus brothers had shrunken in his chair, averting his gaze. “...We thought maybe she was finally growing up.”
“We thought wrong,” Filipe retorted, his voice laced with self-loathing. He strode over to the window of his office, teeth clenched. For a long moment, there was silence between them, Filipe lost in his own thoughts, Dimitri seeming uncertain what to say to his brother.
“...They’re talking about executing her,” the younger of the two said finally.
“Yes,” Filipe agreed.
“They want our input,” Dimitri prompted.
“I don’t know what to tell them,” Filipe admitted. “It’s not really our place to countermand it, it isn’t our house she commited the crime against.”
“But our house gave her access to Cyril,” Dimitri pressed, holding up a hand in a sort of “come on” gesture. “Our house agreed to marry her to Cyril when Lord Oberon asked, and didn’t give a moment’s thought to questioning if something was amiss. She’s our sister. We owe them something.”
“I know, I know, I know!” Filipe snapped back, clenching his fists. After a moment, he added softly, “The other houses are probably going to blame us. Even if House Jade believes we’re innocent.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Dimitri agreed warily. “All the more reason we need to respond to this now. Show solidarity with the Jades and Oberons.”
Filipe couldn’t think of what to say in reply. He’d never really wanted to be House Lord. Hadn’t been meant to be House Lord. He was the second son of their father, Lord Olander, and by Kythian law he was only second in line to succeed. However, Olander had disinherited Filipe and Dimitri’s eldest brother, Anders, because he was not a mage. In Corvus’ political climate, Olander had judged that a mage would be far more suited to leadership. The fallout from that decision had driven Anders to despise his brother, and Filipe had never known anything but resentment and isolation for his position.
Olander had tried to teach his new heir confidence, but Filipe had been, and in a lot of ways still was, very shy and indecisive. He was coming into his own, and becoming more comfortable in his position, but the letter from Lord Everett had badly shaken his resolve.
“Again,” Filipe finally said, his voice laced with bitterness as he returned to his desk. “My own sibling has betrayed me again. And for what?”
He slapped his hand at the stacks of papers and books, sending them scattering to the floor. “For this? For the illusion of power and prestige? Because, I would have gladly traded it all away in a heartbeat. I would have given anything to give all of this to someone who actually wanted it.”
Filipe slumped down into his chair, face twisted into a grimace. Neither of them spoke. Then, Dimitri tensed as he realized that there was something dark and wet trailing down his older brother’s cheeks.
“I…” Dimitri swallowed hard. “I could go. Speak to Lord Everett.”
“No,” Filipe replied, his voice soft. “I appreciate you offering Dems, but no. I’m the house patriarch. It has to be me. Besides, you’re needed here- Grace needs you here.” He turned to his brother with a grim smile, though he sounded a little hoarse as he spoke on. “She’s still recovering from birthing the twins. I suspect you need her as badly as she needs you- I know how badly it shook you, how close we came to losing her.”
The younger of the two brothers looked away, unable to deny this. Even now, the image of his brother’s wife, pale as a sheet and slick with sweat as healers swarmed her like bees, was fresh in both their mind’s eyes. It had been barely two weeks since then, and while Grace was on the upswing, she still had a long road of recovery ahead of her.
“But you’re my brother,” Dimitri finally said, turning back to Filipe. “If you need me too-”
“Dimitri, no. You’ve been there for me since Father died, and done things I asked of you that, frankly, I had no right to ask. You’ve been a better friend to me than you I could have ever dared to hope for. But I can’t lean on you forever.” Filipe leaned forward again, putting a hand over Lord Everett’s letter, and using the other to swipe the moisture away from his face. “I need to confront this myself. Even if I want to scream at Heather for foisting this on us and try to deny all responsibility for her actions, I can’t. Not as a good patriarch, not as a good man.”
Again there was silence between them for a time, and Filipe couldn’t help but wonder what his younger brother was thinking. Would he be relieved, not to have to shoulder yet another burden for Filipe’s part? Angry to be rebuffed? Or perhaps skeptical of his older brother’s actual capability to do what he was stepping up to. Certainly Filipe couldn’t have blamed him for that last- it wasn’t as if he’d done much up to this point to prove his capability.
But when finally Dimitri spoke, it was only to say, “Remember to take care of yourself, too, Fill. You’re your own worst critic.”
Filipe blinked, taken aback. But then he smiled, and came around the desk to pull his brother up into a hug. “Well at least I’ve always got you to talk me up. Thanks Dems.”
I, Lord Everett of House Jade, do regretfully inform you of the recent arrest of Lady Heather Oberon née Escalus. While she and her family were visiting Solis on business, it was discovered that she had been dosing her husband, Lord Cyril Escalus, with love potions since before their marriage. She confessed that she did so purposefully in an attempt to take over House Oberon, and is now being held in our custody. Lord Cyril is in recovery, and their son is in our care for the time being.
We believe that Lady Heather was acting of her own accord, and have no reason to believe that she was working under orders of House Escalus. However, her crimes are quite severe, and we are currently in discussions about a possible execution. Any input your House has on the matter is welcome.
I regret that I must be the one to bear this news. Lord Woo be with us all at this difficult time.
Signed,
Lord Everett of House Jade
“What the ‘Pit.”
Dimitri Escalus was presently bent over his older brother’s shoulder, his blonde brows pinched together and his face set with disbelief. Filipe, for his part, was slumped back in the chair behind his desk, long brown hair askew, looking rather like a lost child in a busy city street.
“This is… this is a joke, right?” he demanded of Filipe, who’s only response was to shut his eyes. “Fill, tell me this is a joke.”
“You’ve met Everett Jade, Dimitri,” Filipe retorted, burying his face in his hands. “He doesn’t joke. I don’t think the man smiles.”
Filipe could hear shuffling as Dimitri walked around to the other side of his desk and sat heavily on one of the chairs there. For a moment there was silence between the two. Finally, the blonde said, “So. Our sister is guilty of, at the very least, misuse of magic, coercion, attempted usurpation of House Oberon, and she has a child with Lord Cyril and all that entails…”
“Frankly, Lord Jade wouldn’t be out of line to charge her with high treason,” Filipe put in bitterly, finally lowering his hands to meet his younger brother’s eyes. Blue, the exact shade of his own. “She violated every oath we’re born into as nobility of Kyth, to put the good of the people and the nation ahead of our own glory, to serve faithfully…” He gave a long, slow hiss of frustration. “And she did it all right under our noses.”
Dimitri winced, “Fill, please don’t beat yourself up over-”
“How can I not?” the lord of House Escalus demanded, lunging to his feet, the breeze of his movement sending Lord Everett’s letter wafting a few inches across the desk. “If she claims she’s been dosing Cyril with the potions since before their marriage, that would mean it’s been going on since they were both at the institute. Here. We knew she was ambitious, we knew she was a selfish, spoiled brat, but we still took it at face value when she and Cyril were suddenly deliriously in love.”
The younger of the Escalus brothers had shrunken in his chair, averting his gaze. “...We thought maybe she was finally growing up.”
“We thought wrong,” Filipe retorted, his voice laced with self-loathing. He strode over to the window of his office, teeth clenched. For a long moment, there was silence between them, Filipe lost in his own thoughts, Dimitri seeming uncertain what to say to his brother.
“...They’re talking about executing her,” the younger of the two said finally.
“Yes,” Filipe agreed.
“They want our input,” Dimitri prompted.
“I don’t know what to tell them,” Filipe admitted. “It’s not really our place to countermand it, it isn’t our house she commited the crime against.”
“But our house gave her access to Cyril,” Dimitri pressed, holding up a hand in a sort of “come on” gesture. “Our house agreed to marry her to Cyril when Lord Oberon asked, and didn’t give a moment’s thought to questioning if something was amiss. She’s our sister. We owe them something.”
“I know, I know, I know!” Filipe snapped back, clenching his fists. After a moment, he added softly, “The other houses are probably going to blame us. Even if House Jade believes we’re innocent.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Dimitri agreed warily. “All the more reason we need to respond to this now. Show solidarity with the Jades and Oberons.”
Filipe couldn’t think of what to say in reply. He’d never really wanted to be House Lord. Hadn’t been meant to be House Lord. He was the second son of their father, Lord Olander, and by Kythian law he was only second in line to succeed. However, Olander had disinherited Filipe and Dimitri’s eldest brother, Anders, because he was not a mage. In Corvus’ political climate, Olander had judged that a mage would be far more suited to leadership. The fallout from that decision had driven Anders to despise his brother, and Filipe had never known anything but resentment and isolation for his position.
Olander had tried to teach his new heir confidence, but Filipe had been, and in a lot of ways still was, very shy and indecisive. He was coming into his own, and becoming more comfortable in his position, but the letter from Lord Everett had badly shaken his resolve.
“Again,” Filipe finally said, his voice laced with bitterness as he returned to his desk. “My own sibling has betrayed me again. And for what?”
He slapped his hand at the stacks of papers and books, sending them scattering to the floor. “For this? For the illusion of power and prestige? Because, I would have gladly traded it all away in a heartbeat. I would have given anything to give all of this to someone who actually wanted it.”
Filipe slumped down into his chair, face twisted into a grimace. Neither of them spoke. Then, Dimitri tensed as he realized that there was something dark and wet trailing down his older brother’s cheeks.
“I…” Dimitri swallowed hard. “I could go. Speak to Lord Everett.”
“No,” Filipe replied, his voice soft. “I appreciate you offering Dems, but no. I’m the house patriarch. It has to be me. Besides, you’re needed here- Grace needs you here.” He turned to his brother with a grim smile, though he sounded a little hoarse as he spoke on. “She’s still recovering from birthing the twins. I suspect you need her as badly as she needs you- I know how badly it shook you, how close we came to losing her.”
The younger of the two brothers looked away, unable to deny this. Even now, the image of his brother’s wife, pale as a sheet and slick with sweat as healers swarmed her like bees, was fresh in both their mind’s eyes. It had been barely two weeks since then, and while Grace was on the upswing, she still had a long road of recovery ahead of her.
“But you’re my brother,” Dimitri finally said, turning back to Filipe. “If you need me too-”
“Dimitri, no. You’ve been there for me since Father died, and done things I asked of you that, frankly, I had no right to ask. You’ve been a better friend to me than you I could have ever dared to hope for. But I can’t lean on you forever.” Filipe leaned forward again, putting a hand over Lord Everett’s letter, and using the other to swipe the moisture away from his face. “I need to confront this myself. Even if I want to scream at Heather for foisting this on us and try to deny all responsibility for her actions, I can’t. Not as a good patriarch, not as a good man.”
Again there was silence between them for a time, and Filipe couldn’t help but wonder what his younger brother was thinking. Would he be relieved, not to have to shoulder yet another burden for Filipe’s part? Angry to be rebuffed? Or perhaps skeptical of his older brother’s actual capability to do what he was stepping up to. Certainly Filipe couldn’t have blamed him for that last- it wasn’t as if he’d done much up to this point to prove his capability.
But when finally Dimitri spoke, it was only to say, “Remember to take care of yourself, too, Fill. You’re your own worst critic.”
Filipe blinked, taken aback. But then he smiled, and came around the desk to pull his brother up into a hug. “Well at least I’ve always got you to talk me up. Thanks Dems.”
Blast Radius - Part Four
Anders ended up being called up to the manor by the Jades to give his own account of the events with the fireknight’s liason after all. He didn’t mind this- it was one thing for him to go to them like a child tattling on another, that felt distinctly uncomfortable. To answer them when directly asked was being an obedient and prudent soldier, and that they even wanted to talk about it more-or-less confirmed that they weren’t thrilled about the situation.
It was pretty gratifying, all things considered, and the fireknight was in a decent mood as he started down the staircase that would lead him back out to the manor entrance hall.
As he left the last stair, a quiet and not quite convincingly-real cough came from the side of the staircase. Chamile Accipiter stepped out from the cover of the banister, smiling a little sheepishly. “Ah, Lieutenant? I’m sorry to ambush you like this, but - do you have a moment to talk?”
Anders felt a muscle in his back tense involuntarily, and he politely inclined his head. “Of course, Lady Chamile. I’m at your disposal.”
Chamile let out a quick sigh, perhaps of relief, or perhaps the sort that meant “here goes”. “Thank you. I...I actually wanted to apologize for how I acted in the garden.”
Anders blinked, taken somewhat by surprise. He hadn’t seen Reynold’s wife since the aforementioned conversation, nor before, and with that singular impression to work from, he hadn’t really known what to expect from this conversation. But… well this was certainly not an unpleasant turn of events.
“I ah… It’s all right,” he stammered, part of him fleetingly trying to remember if anyone had ever actually apologized unprompted for slighting him before. “I… suppose I probably spoke poorly. I shouldn’t have made such jokes given… everything.”
“I’ve heard more poorly-timed comments,” Chamile admitted, “and Reynold explained that he actually did get up to mischief as a kid, so it isn’t as if the joke was unwarranted.” She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and added, “Reynold explained a lot, actually. I hadn’t realized you were estranged from your family, and had been for years - I think I was just this side of too young to care about politics and the other noble families to hear about the whole mess when it was first happening.”
Anders gave a long, long sigh, the kind that usually meant someone was steeling themselves for something. “I… suppose that does make sense, yes. I know Father certainly did his best to hush it all up afterwards, it was… I think an embarrassment would be putting it lightly. And I was definitely not keen to keep the story circulating.” He cocked his head to one side, steel grey eyes appraising. “How much did Reynold tell you?”
Chamile met his gaze evenly. “About why you left?” she guessed. “The basics of it - I asked, and he knew I wouldn’t disapprove on principle; one of my brothers removed himself from our House. ...For what it’s worth, I think what happened to you was what a polite noblelady would call “exceedingly unfair, verging on boorish”. I may or may not have used a polite noblelady’s phrasing with Reynold - so if he looks scandalized next time you see him, that may or may not still be why.”
This actually managed to startle a laugh out of Anders, and he relaxed a hair. “To be fair, he has that expression a lot- if he hadn’t mellowed as he’s matured I’d joke that his face just stuck that way after his adolescence.” The fireknight shrugged, then went on, “But yeah, the gryphon in the room- Heather was three years old, last I was in Heleos. We didn’t even know she was a mage yet, and I’ve been so out of contact I actually still wasn’t aware until I figured it through context clues of the stories that have been going around.”
He rubbed his face, “Though I don’t blame you for assuming- as I’ve been recently reminded, no one forgets where you came from in Corvus.”
“Well,” Chamile said, guilt creeping into her tone, “where you come from doesn’t always decide who you’ll be as a person. Reynold says you’ve been a good friend to him, and the Jades who have known you for years trust you, so...I ought to have followed their example. I’m sorry for treating you unfairly.”
Anders gave a small, lopsided smile. “Apology accepted- I appreciate that you took the time to talk to me, Lady Chamile. I… I hope we can go forward without awkwardness. You seem a good person.” Feeling greatly daring, he added, “though as angelic as you apparently were at age twelve, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Chamile grinned. “Exactly, and it ages like wine - it gets more and more likely to make you act stupidly.” She curtsied, “I appreciate your forgiveness; you seem like a good person as well.”
Her smile, however, faded, and she stepped a little closer to speak in a more quiet voice. “...In light of everything I know now, and everything I already know about estranged family - I think there’s something you ought to know. Lord Filipe is coming to Solis, to speak to Lord Everett about Heather.” She hesitated, perhaps to give Anders a moment to absorb the news, then added, “I don’t know if he has plans to speak with you, I don’t think his communication specified - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t planning to try, either.”
Anders sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Right… I suppose I should have expected as much. If a suspicious light is being cast on me, and I haven’t seen her in person in decades…” He gave a small, wan laugh. “And it wouldn’t be the first time Filipe made an inopportune effort to reach out to me.”
The fireknight rubbed his face. “Thank you for letting me know… better to find out in advance then to be caught off guard by it later. I almost walked in to him and my father when they were visiting Lord Everett once before, and that was about as awkward as you can imagine.”
Chamile winced. “Yikes. And I can imagine very awkward. It’s definitely better if you know it’s coming. Not always amazing,” she granted, “but better than the alternative.” She paused, straightening a sleeve and frowning slightly in contemplation, before she said, “For whatever it might be worth, I don’t think Lord Everett suspects the rest of your family of anything. My brother told me about Heather - and from what he said of how she acted...I think she would have thrown anyone else involved to the wolves, if only to bring them down with her. This conversation happened after you and I met, or I wouldn’t have been concerned about you possibly being an accomplice.”
Anders nodded slowly. “That makes sense- Granted, I haven’t had a conversation with Filipe that went much past ‘Huh- Anders?!’ either since he was thirteen, but from what I remember of him, he didn’t have the disposition of a schemer. Or much of a diplomat in the general sense, really. He was always a reserved, shy kid. A pleaser. Not an ambitious bone in his body.” The man glanced away, polishing his knight’s badge with a thumb idly. “I probably wouldn’t have gotten along with him so poorly but for…”
Chamile gave him a moment to finish, but when he didn’t, ventured, “It did sound like your father had a system that was naturally going to pit you against each other. ...Which I suppose is even more evidence Heather wasn’t looking to any of her siblings for help.”
“No, I highly doubt it,” Anders agreed softly. He gave himself a shake, like a dog might, and forced a smile again. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a minute there. It’s been a long time since I thought much about Heleos, and my memories of that life are… difficult.”
Chamile nodded. “That’s all right. There are worse ways you could be dealing with it than getting lost in thought. ‘Yelling’ is a popular one, for instance. But that might be better saved for somewhere other than the Jade foyer. Less interruption.”
“Ha- I keep my emotional breakdowns for Mirja. That’s my phoenix.” He shrugged sheepishly. “She’s a good listener and doesn’t mind if I get overwrought.”
“You could do worse than talking to one of the ‘Woo’s birds,” Chamile said thoughtfully. “I hear predatory birds are good for taking the sting of family conflict, so that’s good that you have one around.”
Anders blinked, wondering what on earth Chamile was referencing, but decided not to press it. “Phoenixes are almost frighteningly perceptive, by animal standards. There are times I wonder if Mirja doesn’t understand every word I say.” He sighed. “Thanks, seriously. For the apology, the benefit of the doubt, and letting me know about Filipe. Maybe next time we can have a more fun conversation. Tag-team to fluster poor Reynold.”
“That sounds delightful, Lieutenant,” Chamile said with a curtsey and a beaming smile. “He can be relieved we’re not going to be enemies for a few days, perhaps - we’re so good to him!”
“Someone has to make that serious mug laugh from time to time,” Anders replied with a grin of his own. “Glad to have an ally in that mission.”
It was pretty gratifying, all things considered, and the fireknight was in a decent mood as he started down the staircase that would lead him back out to the manor entrance hall.
As he left the last stair, a quiet and not quite convincingly-real cough came from the side of the staircase. Chamile Accipiter stepped out from the cover of the banister, smiling a little sheepishly. “Ah, Lieutenant? I’m sorry to ambush you like this, but - do you have a moment to talk?”
Anders felt a muscle in his back tense involuntarily, and he politely inclined his head. “Of course, Lady Chamile. I’m at your disposal.”
Chamile let out a quick sigh, perhaps of relief, or perhaps the sort that meant “here goes”. “Thank you. I...I actually wanted to apologize for how I acted in the garden.”
Anders blinked, taken somewhat by surprise. He hadn’t seen Reynold’s wife since the aforementioned conversation, nor before, and with that singular impression to work from, he hadn’t really known what to expect from this conversation. But… well this was certainly not an unpleasant turn of events.
“I ah… It’s all right,” he stammered, part of him fleetingly trying to remember if anyone had ever actually apologized unprompted for slighting him before. “I… suppose I probably spoke poorly. I shouldn’t have made such jokes given… everything.”
“I’ve heard more poorly-timed comments,” Chamile admitted, “and Reynold explained that he actually did get up to mischief as a kid, so it isn’t as if the joke was unwarranted.” She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand and added, “Reynold explained a lot, actually. I hadn’t realized you were estranged from your family, and had been for years - I think I was just this side of too young to care about politics and the other noble families to hear about the whole mess when it was first happening.”
Anders gave a long, long sigh, the kind that usually meant someone was steeling themselves for something. “I… suppose that does make sense, yes. I know Father certainly did his best to hush it all up afterwards, it was… I think an embarrassment would be putting it lightly. And I was definitely not keen to keep the story circulating.” He cocked his head to one side, steel grey eyes appraising. “How much did Reynold tell you?”
Chamile met his gaze evenly. “About why you left?” she guessed. “The basics of it - I asked, and he knew I wouldn’t disapprove on principle; one of my brothers removed himself from our House. ...For what it’s worth, I think what happened to you was what a polite noblelady would call “exceedingly unfair, verging on boorish”. I may or may not have used a polite noblelady’s phrasing with Reynold - so if he looks scandalized next time you see him, that may or may not still be why.”
This actually managed to startle a laugh out of Anders, and he relaxed a hair. “To be fair, he has that expression a lot- if he hadn’t mellowed as he’s matured I’d joke that his face just stuck that way after his adolescence.” The fireknight shrugged, then went on, “But yeah, the gryphon in the room- Heather was three years old, last I was in Heleos. We didn’t even know she was a mage yet, and I’ve been so out of contact I actually still wasn’t aware until I figured it through context clues of the stories that have been going around.”
He rubbed his face, “Though I don’t blame you for assuming- as I’ve been recently reminded, no one forgets where you came from in Corvus.”
“Well,” Chamile said, guilt creeping into her tone, “where you come from doesn’t always decide who you’ll be as a person. Reynold says you’ve been a good friend to him, and the Jades who have known you for years trust you, so...I ought to have followed their example. I’m sorry for treating you unfairly.”
Anders gave a small, lopsided smile. “Apology accepted- I appreciate that you took the time to talk to me, Lady Chamile. I… I hope we can go forward without awkwardness. You seem a good person.” Feeling greatly daring, he added, “though as angelic as you apparently were at age twelve, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Chamile grinned. “Exactly, and it ages like wine - it gets more and more likely to make you act stupidly.” She curtsied, “I appreciate your forgiveness; you seem like a good person as well.”
Her smile, however, faded, and she stepped a little closer to speak in a more quiet voice. “...In light of everything I know now, and everything I already know about estranged family - I think there’s something you ought to know. Lord Filipe is coming to Solis, to speak to Lord Everett about Heather.” She hesitated, perhaps to give Anders a moment to absorb the news, then added, “I don’t know if he has plans to speak with you, I don’t think his communication specified - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t planning to try, either.”
Anders sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Right… I suppose I should have expected as much. If a suspicious light is being cast on me, and I haven’t seen her in person in decades…” He gave a small, wan laugh. “And it wouldn’t be the first time Filipe made an inopportune effort to reach out to me.”
The fireknight rubbed his face. “Thank you for letting me know… better to find out in advance then to be caught off guard by it later. I almost walked in to him and my father when they were visiting Lord Everett once before, and that was about as awkward as you can imagine.”
Chamile winced. “Yikes. And I can imagine very awkward. It’s definitely better if you know it’s coming. Not always amazing,” she granted, “but better than the alternative.” She paused, straightening a sleeve and frowning slightly in contemplation, before she said, “For whatever it might be worth, I don’t think Lord Everett suspects the rest of your family of anything. My brother told me about Heather - and from what he said of how she acted...I think she would have thrown anyone else involved to the wolves, if only to bring them down with her. This conversation happened after you and I met, or I wouldn’t have been concerned about you possibly being an accomplice.”
Anders nodded slowly. “That makes sense- Granted, I haven’t had a conversation with Filipe that went much past ‘Huh- Anders?!’ either since he was thirteen, but from what I remember of him, he didn’t have the disposition of a schemer. Or much of a diplomat in the general sense, really. He was always a reserved, shy kid. A pleaser. Not an ambitious bone in his body.” The man glanced away, polishing his knight’s badge with a thumb idly. “I probably wouldn’t have gotten along with him so poorly but for…”
Chamile gave him a moment to finish, but when he didn’t, ventured, “It did sound like your father had a system that was naturally going to pit you against each other. ...Which I suppose is even more evidence Heather wasn’t looking to any of her siblings for help.”
“No, I highly doubt it,” Anders agreed softly. He gave himself a shake, like a dog might, and forced a smile again. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a minute there. It’s been a long time since I thought much about Heleos, and my memories of that life are… difficult.”
Chamile nodded. “That’s all right. There are worse ways you could be dealing with it than getting lost in thought. ‘Yelling’ is a popular one, for instance. But that might be better saved for somewhere other than the Jade foyer. Less interruption.”
“Ha- I keep my emotional breakdowns for Mirja. That’s my phoenix.” He shrugged sheepishly. “She’s a good listener and doesn’t mind if I get overwrought.”
“You could do worse than talking to one of the ‘Woo’s birds,” Chamile said thoughtfully. “I hear predatory birds are good for taking the sting of family conflict, so that’s good that you have one around.”
Anders blinked, wondering what on earth Chamile was referencing, but decided not to press it. “Phoenixes are almost frighteningly perceptive, by animal standards. There are times I wonder if Mirja doesn’t understand every word I say.” He sighed. “Thanks, seriously. For the apology, the benefit of the doubt, and letting me know about Filipe. Maybe next time we can have a more fun conversation. Tag-team to fluster poor Reynold.”
“That sounds delightful, Lieutenant,” Chamile said with a curtsey and a beaming smile. “He can be relieved we’re not going to be enemies for a few days, perhaps - we’re so good to him!”
“Someone has to make that serious mug laugh from time to time,” Anders replied with a grin of his own. “Glad to have an ally in that mission.”
Blast Radius - Part Five
As the carriage painted in Escalus orange and blue creaked and rumbled through the gates and up the circular lane towards the stairs where Lord Everett waited, it immediately became clear that something was amiss. There were splotches of color that looked out of place- reds and purples, and little blots of moisture that had no discernable color but where shiny enough to be visible regardless. Soon enough, the vehicle drew close enough for the Jade to be able to see it more clearly, and the cause of the colors became apparent. Seeds, little chunks of fruit flesh and skins, and in one case a whole crushed pineapple had left a dent in the side of the carriage and come to rest on the steps of it.
A knight in blue stopped with the carriage and opened the door, allowing Filipe- gingerly stepping over the pineapple- to climb out.
“Welcome to Solis, Lord Escalus,” Lord Everett said, eyes moving past the young lord to give a troubled frown at the soiled carriage. “…I apologize that the circumstances of your visit could not be more favorable.”
Filipe bowed his head, giving a tentative smile in reply. “I can’t say I blame people for wanting to lash out, Lord Jade. After everything that’s happened, I suppose it gives them comfort to feel like they have some small measure of control.”
“Hm.” Everett didn’t seem to know how best to respond to that, so instead he opted not to. “At any rate, perhaps we’d best go inside. I’m sure you’re weary from the trip.”
Filipe visibly flinched at the noncommittal response. His voice and bearing a good bit more formal, he straightened and replied, “Yes, my lord. I am at your disposal.”
With that, Everett led Filipe into the manor, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air as they moved through the ornate halls. Their trip ended in one of the reception rooms, where the servants had set out some light refreshments for them.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” Everett said, indicating one of the couches. “I realize we have a lot to talk about.”
Filipe glanced at the food that had been set out- tea, wine, and some fruits and cheeses- but he’d never felt less hungry in his life. No, on the contrary a pit of nausea was forming in his gut, and it was an act of tremendous self-control to keep his expression level as he obeyed the directive to sit.
“I suppose I should begin by extending my deepest apologies, Lord Jade,” Filipe said thickly. “Although we had no knowledge of Heather’s actions, nor her motives in pursuing the relationship with Lord Oberon, she was still under our house’s custody and we should have been paying better attention.”
“I appreciate that,” Everett replied, taking his seat on the couch opposite Filipe. “Though I assure you that I do not consider you nor your House responsible for what your sister has done.”
Filipe inclined his head. “For which we’re extremely grateful, my lord. Though I did wonder if Lord Achilles might have expressed the desire for some form of reparation, given the circumstances.”
“I can’t speak for him; he hasn’t said anything to me on the matter.” Everett frowned, tenting his fingers in thought. “…Though I suspect, at the very least, he would appreciate a formal apology.”
“Naturally,” Filipe agreed, wondering if this was even something that was in question. Did Lord Everett think he wouldn’t have offered an apology if not prompted? Just how low is his opinion of me? the young man thought with dismay. Forcing his voice to remain level, he added, “I fully intend to initiate contact as soon as my business here is concluded. We will concede to whatever the Oberons desire from us.”
“…My deepest sympathies, by the way,” Everett added, his expression softening a bit. “I realize this is a difficult situation that you’ve been placed in—so soon after your father’s passing, no less.”
Filipe was surprised by that, but definitely not in a bad way. Sympathy… he hadn’t expected it but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. He bowed his head, but this time it was more with gratitude than submission. “Thank you- I deeply appreciate the trust you maintain towards my family despite what has happened. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to suspect us, as I imagine many will. I will do my level best to live up to that faith, and to provide whatever assistance I can.”
Everett nodded. “Likewise, I am willing to do whatever I can to help mitigate the damage Heather has done. Although…” Again, he frowned. “While I can intervene if anyone acts out of line, unfortunately there is nothing I can do to change any negative opinions they may have.”
“Of course, my lord,” Filipe said, nodding. “I will have to prove my trustworthiness to them, something only I can do and that only time will allow for.” Ruefully he added, “In the meantime I suppose I shall have to invest in some spells to repel soilage from my carriage.”
He waved a hand, then went on, “But- I suppose right now my discomforts are paltry compared to those of Lord Cyril, and I know you had important matters you wanted to discuss.”
“…Indeed I did.” Everett leaned back into the couch, taking a deep breath. “As was mentioned in my letter, Heather’s crimes against House Oberon are quite severe, and cannot be ignored. As it stands, I believe—and Lord Achilles agrees—that she should be sentenced to death.” He looked at Filipe, his gaze both solemn and soul-piercing. “If you have any objections, or final requests, now would be the time to voice them.”
Filipe had known this was coming- had prompted it, even- but it was still like a punch in the gut to hear it out loud. All the same, he’d thought long and hard about this on the carriage ride from Heleos to Solis, and he knew the answer to Lord Everett’s question, even if he didn’t like it.
“No objections,” he said, his voice very soft. “You are quite right- what she’s done cannot be allowed to stand. Even apart from the injustice of it, such would set a terrible precedent. Much though I wish I could, I can’t beg for leniency just because she’s my sister. I only ask two things- first, that she is… comfortable as her status as a prisoner permits, until the time comes. I am willing to provide funds for her housing and food in the interim. And…”
Filipe seemed to hesitate here. “There is no un-awkward way to ask this, so I suppose I should just ask; do you yet know if the Oberons plan to continue to raise Heather and Cyril’s son? I ask meaning no disrespect or slight to them, only knowing that the boy may represent… unpleasant memories. If they do, then I have nothing more to say on the matter. If not, I only wish the note made that we of House Escalus are willing to take responsibility.”
As he spoke, Everett nodded his head solemnly, taking note of his requests. “You have my word; your sister will be treated fairly as long as she is in our custody. As for their son… Lord Achilles believes, and I’m inclined to agree, that Cyril should have the final say on that matter. Unfortunately, for the moment, Cyril is in no state to make such a weighty decision.” The Jade Lord sighed. “…Regardless, your offer is noted, and will be taken into consideration.”
“I understand, and I appreciate your honesty. I can only pray that Lord Cyril recovers swiftly.” Filipe looked away, sighing. “Part of me feels as if I should ask to speak to Heather, at least once, but I suspect that would… go poorly.”
“Mmph. You are free to do so if you wish, though I can’t guarantee she’d be good company.” Everett looked cross for a moment, seemingly remembering some past conversation with Heather.
“I apologize for any slight she might have given you,” Filipe offered with a resigned tone. “I can guess- we didn’t really get along, even as kids, so I doubt anything would be accomplished by my approaching her now.”
“Thank you,” Everett said, letting out a sigh. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, but she has been quite flippant since her capture. …Again, you are free to speak with her if you wish, and I would understand fully if you did, but I doubt it would be a pleasant conversation in any case.”
“Perhaps not this exact minute, but… I probably should before I return to Heleos,” Filipe admitted. “It feels like it would be cowardly not to.” He tilted his head. “For now, was there anything else you needed of me, Lord Everett?”
“I believe that is all for now,” was Everett’s response. With that, he rose from his seat on the couch. “Thank you for your time, Lord Escalus. Again, I regret that we could not meet under more favorable circumstances.”
“As do I, my liege,” Filipe replied, bowing. “I will speak with you again later- thank you again for everything.”
Filipe allowed himself to be led back out of the manor. Once Everett had left him at the outside stairs that went back down to the front drive he gave a long, slow sigh of relief. That… could have gone a lot worse. He still wasn’t looking forward to his eventual conversation with Heather, but that was a matter for tomorrow. For now, he could use a breather.
He hadn’t gone five steps down the stairs when someone stepped out from behind his carriage. Someone with hair an identical shade of brown to his own, but cropped short and set over a pair of eyes the same shade of grey as thunderclouds
A knight in blue stopped with the carriage and opened the door, allowing Filipe- gingerly stepping over the pineapple- to climb out.
“Welcome to Solis, Lord Escalus,” Lord Everett said, eyes moving past the young lord to give a troubled frown at the soiled carriage. “…I apologize that the circumstances of your visit could not be more favorable.”
Filipe bowed his head, giving a tentative smile in reply. “I can’t say I blame people for wanting to lash out, Lord Jade. After everything that’s happened, I suppose it gives them comfort to feel like they have some small measure of control.”
“Hm.” Everett didn’t seem to know how best to respond to that, so instead he opted not to. “At any rate, perhaps we’d best go inside. I’m sure you’re weary from the trip.”
Filipe visibly flinched at the noncommittal response. His voice and bearing a good bit more formal, he straightened and replied, “Yes, my lord. I am at your disposal.”
With that, Everett led Filipe into the manor, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air as they moved through the ornate halls. Their trip ended in one of the reception rooms, where the servants had set out some light refreshments for them.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” Everett said, indicating one of the couches. “I realize we have a lot to talk about.”
Filipe glanced at the food that had been set out- tea, wine, and some fruits and cheeses- but he’d never felt less hungry in his life. No, on the contrary a pit of nausea was forming in his gut, and it was an act of tremendous self-control to keep his expression level as he obeyed the directive to sit.
“I suppose I should begin by extending my deepest apologies, Lord Jade,” Filipe said thickly. “Although we had no knowledge of Heather’s actions, nor her motives in pursuing the relationship with Lord Oberon, she was still under our house’s custody and we should have been paying better attention.”
“I appreciate that,” Everett replied, taking his seat on the couch opposite Filipe. “Though I assure you that I do not consider you nor your House responsible for what your sister has done.”
Filipe inclined his head. “For which we’re extremely grateful, my lord. Though I did wonder if Lord Achilles might have expressed the desire for some form of reparation, given the circumstances.”
“I can’t speak for him; he hasn’t said anything to me on the matter.” Everett frowned, tenting his fingers in thought. “…Though I suspect, at the very least, he would appreciate a formal apology.”
“Naturally,” Filipe agreed, wondering if this was even something that was in question. Did Lord Everett think he wouldn’t have offered an apology if not prompted? Just how low is his opinion of me? the young man thought with dismay. Forcing his voice to remain level, he added, “I fully intend to initiate contact as soon as my business here is concluded. We will concede to whatever the Oberons desire from us.”
“…My deepest sympathies, by the way,” Everett added, his expression softening a bit. “I realize this is a difficult situation that you’ve been placed in—so soon after your father’s passing, no less.”
Filipe was surprised by that, but definitely not in a bad way. Sympathy… he hadn’t expected it but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. He bowed his head, but this time it was more with gratitude than submission. “Thank you- I deeply appreciate the trust you maintain towards my family despite what has happened. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to suspect us, as I imagine many will. I will do my level best to live up to that faith, and to provide whatever assistance I can.”
Everett nodded. “Likewise, I am willing to do whatever I can to help mitigate the damage Heather has done. Although…” Again, he frowned. “While I can intervene if anyone acts out of line, unfortunately there is nothing I can do to change any negative opinions they may have.”
“Of course, my lord,” Filipe said, nodding. “I will have to prove my trustworthiness to them, something only I can do and that only time will allow for.” Ruefully he added, “In the meantime I suppose I shall have to invest in some spells to repel soilage from my carriage.”
He waved a hand, then went on, “But- I suppose right now my discomforts are paltry compared to those of Lord Cyril, and I know you had important matters you wanted to discuss.”
“…Indeed I did.” Everett leaned back into the couch, taking a deep breath. “As was mentioned in my letter, Heather’s crimes against House Oberon are quite severe, and cannot be ignored. As it stands, I believe—and Lord Achilles agrees—that she should be sentenced to death.” He looked at Filipe, his gaze both solemn and soul-piercing. “If you have any objections, or final requests, now would be the time to voice them.”
Filipe had known this was coming- had prompted it, even- but it was still like a punch in the gut to hear it out loud. All the same, he’d thought long and hard about this on the carriage ride from Heleos to Solis, and he knew the answer to Lord Everett’s question, even if he didn’t like it.
“No objections,” he said, his voice very soft. “You are quite right- what she’s done cannot be allowed to stand. Even apart from the injustice of it, such would set a terrible precedent. Much though I wish I could, I can’t beg for leniency just because she’s my sister. I only ask two things- first, that she is… comfortable as her status as a prisoner permits, until the time comes. I am willing to provide funds for her housing and food in the interim. And…”
Filipe seemed to hesitate here. “There is no un-awkward way to ask this, so I suppose I should just ask; do you yet know if the Oberons plan to continue to raise Heather and Cyril’s son? I ask meaning no disrespect or slight to them, only knowing that the boy may represent… unpleasant memories. If they do, then I have nothing more to say on the matter. If not, I only wish the note made that we of House Escalus are willing to take responsibility.”
As he spoke, Everett nodded his head solemnly, taking note of his requests. “You have my word; your sister will be treated fairly as long as she is in our custody. As for their son… Lord Achilles believes, and I’m inclined to agree, that Cyril should have the final say on that matter. Unfortunately, for the moment, Cyril is in no state to make such a weighty decision.” The Jade Lord sighed. “…Regardless, your offer is noted, and will be taken into consideration.”
“I understand, and I appreciate your honesty. I can only pray that Lord Cyril recovers swiftly.” Filipe looked away, sighing. “Part of me feels as if I should ask to speak to Heather, at least once, but I suspect that would… go poorly.”
“Mmph. You are free to do so if you wish, though I can’t guarantee she’d be good company.” Everett looked cross for a moment, seemingly remembering some past conversation with Heather.
“I apologize for any slight she might have given you,” Filipe offered with a resigned tone. “I can guess- we didn’t really get along, even as kids, so I doubt anything would be accomplished by my approaching her now.”
“Thank you,” Everett said, letting out a sigh. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, but she has been quite flippant since her capture. …Again, you are free to speak with her if you wish, and I would understand fully if you did, but I doubt it would be a pleasant conversation in any case.”
“Perhaps not this exact minute, but… I probably should before I return to Heleos,” Filipe admitted. “It feels like it would be cowardly not to.” He tilted his head. “For now, was there anything else you needed of me, Lord Everett?”
“I believe that is all for now,” was Everett’s response. With that, he rose from his seat on the couch. “Thank you for your time, Lord Escalus. Again, I regret that we could not meet under more favorable circumstances.”
“As do I, my liege,” Filipe replied, bowing. “I will speak with you again later- thank you again for everything.”
Filipe allowed himself to be led back out of the manor. Once Everett had left him at the outside stairs that went back down to the front drive he gave a long, slow sigh of relief. That… could have gone a lot worse. He still wasn’t looking forward to his eventual conversation with Heather, but that was a matter for tomorrow. For now, he could use a breather.
He hadn’t gone five steps down the stairs when someone stepped out from behind his carriage. Someone with hair an identical shade of brown to his own, but cropped short and set over a pair of eyes the same shade of grey as thunderclouds
Blast Radius - Part Six
“...Anders?” Filipe hissed, disbelief sitting in his gut like a stone. The elder of the brothers nodded, a look of grim determination on his face.
“Filipe. You’re here because of what happened with Heather, right?”
The lord of House Escalus looked away, trying to keep his shoulders from trembling. “I don’t see how it’s really any of your-”
“Filipe, she’s my sister too,” Anders cut in. “My squad was taken off of a mission for the Jades over what she pulled. It very much is my business, but I’m not here to judge you or make accusations. I want to talk. That’s all.”
Filipe whipped his head back around, mouth agape. “You were- why? None of House Escalus has seen or heard from you in over a decade!”
“And I’m sure you haven’t seen or heard from our dear sister since her marriage, but here you are anyway,” Anders glanced at the carriage, adding, “I’ve gotten less messy tokens of people’s disapproval, but I’ve gotten them all the same.”
He shook his head. “But Filipe, that’s not why I’m here. I was hoping we could talk. Alone.”
That earned some less-than-approving grunts from the Escalus knights who’d been standing by the carriage, and one of them said, “Even if the mood of the city weren’t so hostile that would be unwise. Someone of his lordship’s status...”
Anders rolled his eyes. “I’m a fireknight of House Jade, I’m perfectly equipped to keep him safe if it came to that- not to mention I’m certain he’s trained at the Iphicles Institute, as per House tradition.” The man shifted his arm, holding out the bundle of dark green fabric to his brother. “But as long as he covers up the flashy orange and blue silks it shouldn’t come to that.”
Filipe looked at the cloth- he could see now it was a hooded cloak- with no small amount of uncertainty. But at length he rubbed his face, and reached out to take it. “Stay here,” the lord instructed his knights. “And don’t come rushing after me in a panic after an hour; there’s no telling how long this conversation might take.”
The look the knights gave Filipe was extremely disapproving, but they knew better than to argue. The young Escalus lord pulled the cloak on over his formal silks, almost completely hiding them from view, though in the heat of the Corvid summer he didn’t pull the hood up. Hopefully members of the Escalus family besides Anders were a rare enough sight in the capital that his face wouldn’t be recognizable.
Neither brother spoke as they wended through the city streets of Solis. Filipe had no idea where they were going- he had only ever travelled the route between the gate and the manor- but Anders seemed entirely comfortable, no doubt having learned every back alley and shortcut in town during his life as a knight here.
Anders eventually came to a stop in a secluded corner of one of the city’s many expansive parks, one that was clearly seldom visited as the dirt footpath was mostly grown over with grass. A large weeping willow tree shielded it from view to anyone else, and Anders had to brush some old leaves and twigs off of the sun-bleached wooden bench before he sat, gesturing for Filipe to do the same on the bench across from him. The younger man did so, his throat tight with nerves.
“I was warned you were coming by Lady Chamile,” Anders said without preamble. “She thought I might want to avoid the manor during your visit, and on any other occasion she’d have probably been right. But… I think, if you’re amenable, it might be time to finally…” he seemed to grope for the right way to say what he was thinking, before finally settling on, “Clear the air.”
“...Well that was more blunt than I was expecting,” Filipe admitted, startling a breathless laugh out of Anders.
“The only way I was going to be able to do this and not chicken out was by ripping off the bandage all in one go,” he explained. “Sorry if that was… awkward.”
Filipe bit his lip, looking away. “Why now? I tried to reach out to you after Father died, but you didn’t even open the note.”
“I didn’t know it was from you, for one,” Anders noted with a frown. “You didn’t send it as a brother reaching out- you sent it was the Lord of House Escalus to another member of your house. Sealed with the official wax and everything. I thought Father had sent it.”
“Y-yeah I… I figured,” Filipe admitted. “Still. If Father had been trying to contact you, why push him away? He was dying, Anders, it wouldn’t have killed you to go easy on him.”
Anders covered his face, giving a long, slow exhale. “It wasn’t like he ever went easy on me. I’m not the sort of man for fake deathbed reconciliation.”
“He regretted it. In the end. How he’d treated you, and Dimitri.”
Anders bit his lip, his eyes downcast. Then he shook his head. “I didn’t come here to talk about our Father, Filipe. I came to talk about us. The situation with Heather… it’s made me realize just how little I know about who my siblings have become. How foolish it’d be to keep blaming them for our father’s actions when they had as little agency over him as I did over Heather.”
Filipe winced. “You say it isn’t about our father, but then you immediately admit it is,” He grumbled, but then he relented. “I’m sorry. You just… surprised me, is all. Given everything else that’s going on, picking over old, festering wounds I’ve done my best to ignore for over a decade was the last thing I expected to be doing today.”
Anders ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Filipe uncannily of their father- though he had the sense not to make this observation out loud. “If it really bothers you, I can go. Far be it for me to force myself on someone who doesn’t want anything to do with me after what I did to your letter.”
“...No,” Filipe sighed. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen. It’s the least I can do. Still though- why now?”
Anders looked a little more hopeful at this, not quite smiling but certainly perking up a bit. “Thanks. I had to psyche myself up a lot to even work up the nerve to do this. I’ve been… avoiding the issue for a long time. As for why, well what happened with Heather kind of forced me to look back and really examine how much of my resentment towards our family was… misplaced. I was angry at our Father, but that was no reason to keep holding a grudge against you.”
Filipe inclined his head. “I guess that makes sense. It’s almost flattering really, that you had to psyche yourself up on my account. I’m hardly going to bite you.”
The elder of the two gave a soft, rueful laugh. “Ever the mediator. Some things never change, I guess.”
That comment rankled, and Filipe frowned, though he diplomatically admitted, “It’s probably part of why some people find it easy to assume I would be complicit in Heather’s schemes. I’ve been doing my best to shake the reputation of being weak willed and indecisive, but…”
“As I’ve been doing my best to shake my reputation as a foul tempered lout who ran away from home,” Anders said, his tone surprisingly sympathetic. “It’s hard to disprove people’s perceptions when they’re grounded in fact. Outdated fact, sometimes, but I’ve found people tend to hang on to their impressions even if it’s been long enough to reasonably assume a person to have changed.”
“If you realize that, why dismiss what you thought was an offer of reconciliation from Father so offhand?” Filipe demanded before he had a chance to think about the implications of what he was asking. He immediately winced as Anders jaw clenched.
“...He hurt me, Filipe,” the older man said through his teeth. “It isn’t just about making assumptions about what kind of man he is. He, very directly, entirely without a second thought, hurt me. Chucked me aside like yesterday’s trash. Let me spend years feeling like I wasn’t good enough. I’d found my own way and people who made me feel like I was actually worth something. I’ve grown beyond the little boy who was desperate for his approval, and I wasn’t interested in his apologies.”
“But you want me to take your apologies, right?” Filipe asked, his frustration bubbling up now. “I mean, you hurt me. So many times, I can’t even count, and yet I tried to reach out to you years ago.”
“I wasn’t- I didn’t-”
“You did. Woo, you did,” Filipe snapped. “You want to know the truth, Anders? You were a bully. If I’m insecure and indecisive and have no confidence, you certainly didn’t do anything to help that! I would try to reach out to you, to include you in what I was doing, and you’d lash out at me like I’d done something wrong!”
“...Been holding on to that a long time, haven’t you?” Anders demanded, his shoulders shaking. “You know what, I was trying to be polite about this, but fine. If we’re just laying it all out in the open, fine.” He met his younger brother’s eyes squarely, his muscles tight. “I was a bully, was I? Well you were a show off. I wanted so badly to prove that I was worth something, but all our father cared about was magic, and that was the one thing I could never have. Yet you kept shoving your magic in my face, wanting me to coo over it like our father was doing. You wanted me to reinforce how bloody special you were. That’s why I got angry and lashed out.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Filipe demanded. “Is that really what you think? Because yeah, maybe as I kid I wanted you to be excited about what I could do, but it wasn’t because I was going on some ego trip! And it certainly wasn’t to spite you, Anders, I was nine!”
Anders hissed, hands clenched over his legs. “You had everything I wanted. Everything I worked for almost a decade to prove I was worthy of. All because you could make flowers change color with your mind. And you flaunted it.”
“Oh my Woo, you think I wanted to be the lord? I’d have given the heirship back to you in a heartbeat if I could! I hated having to talk to all those strangers, having to sit at Father’s right hand at banquets in the center of everyone’s attention, having all the pressure on me to live up to the reputation of the mighty, ancient House Escalus! Every time I struggled in an etiquette lesson I wanted to curl up into a hole and hide! Frankly I never got how you could want all that!”
“It was never about being the heir!” Anders bellowed, lurching to his feet. “It was about having respect! It was about our father acknowledging that I was capable, even if I couldn’t make platters fly through the air at the dinner table by waggling a stick!”
Filipe remained sitting, quivering in spite of himself. “Again- I was a child. Children do stupid things to show off when they’re excited about mastering a new skill. That doesn’t mean there was any malice behind it; I was never trying to make you feel inferior!”
“But you want me to forgive our father- the man who did make me feel inferior. You want me to make amends with him, and you’re mad that in a hypothetical situation where I might’ve, I chose not to. How easy it must be to take his side when you are and always were his bloody favorite, his chosen one, his-”
Filipe rocketed to his feet, fists clenched, and before he had time to think about what he was doing, he’d swung one of those fists straight into his older brother’s jaw. Clearly caught off guard, Anders staggered with the blow, putting up a hand to the rapidly reddening spot.
“This… this wooforsaken competition you’ve built up between us in your head, it doesn’t exist, Anders!” Filipe shouted. “It’s never existed! You’re the one who always wanted to win, who wanted to beat me, who wanted to be the apple of Father’s eye and to prove you were as good as me or better. You know what I wanted? I wanted a brother.”
Anders gaped up at Filipe, seeming at a loss for words. Taking advantage of the silence, Filipe railed on.
“You talk about how you felt like you had no worth, about how you were condescended to and supplanted. But all this time, all my life, all I wanted was for my big brother to love me! I hero-worshiped you, Anders! When you started lashing out at me, it crushed me. When you left, I blamed myself! I felt like the worst kind of brother, like a thief and a traitor and a fake. I felt worthless. Sound familiar? Does that sound bloody familiar, Anders?”
Anders swallowed hard, one hand still cupped over the blooming purple bruise on his face. He looked down, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he were trying desperately to think of something, anything to offer as a rebuttal. Then, his shoulders slumped.
“...Okay,” he said finally, gingerly pressing on the welt on his chin. “I guess I did deserve this. I’ve always been good at projecting- at forcing my pain on other people, deserved or not.” He slowly stood, rubbing his face. “And I guess I’ve also sanitized my own role in our childhoods because it was easier on me.”
He gave a long, slow inhale, then sighed, meeting Filipe’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m really, deeply sorry. For everything- for being a snotty little brat to you for no reason, for holding you in such low esteem all this time, and most of all, for not saying something a whole lot sooner. This isn’t, and never was your fault.”
Filipe’s jaw was trembling, and his eyes seared. He was still keyed up and very much seething, but he no longer had a good outlet for that anger. Eventually he slumped, falling back onto the bench with his hands on his knees.
“What now?” he demanded. “We kiss and make up? Almost thirty years of dysfunction and misplaced anger goes up in smoke? Poof? Happy ending?”
“I think we both know that’s not realistic,” Anders replied, sitting as well. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if we… never really have the sort of relationship we should have had as brothers. But maybe… maybe, if we can accept what happened, and the ways we were- and weren’t- at fault for how everything fell out… maybe we can finally stop being weighed down by it.”
He shook his head. “You aren’t worthless, Filipe. And my decisions are nobody’s fault but my own. If my childhood prattishness is holding you back somehow… well. I guess I can always let you hit me again. However many times you need to feel like there’s some sort of equalization.”
Filipe managed a tired laugh. “You don’t want that- your face would be hamburger before I was done.” He shook his head. “Besides, you aren’t the one I want to hit- not really. That bratty, self-centered teenager I remember clearly doesn’t exist anymore. He’d never have admitted I was right, much less apologized.”
The younger man sighed. “On some level I guess I do understand. You wanted and never got from Father the same I wanted from you and never got. I loved him, and it… bothers me, having to come to terms with the idea that he wasn’t always the perfect, loving parent I wanted him to be. So if there’s been sanitizing, it’s been mutual.”
Anders looked like he appreciated this comment, though he had the sense not to say anything about it. The brothers sat together, lost in thought, and at length Anders asked, “Is Dimitri…”
“He’s fine,” Filipe replied, lifting his head to meet his brother’s eyes. “Married, happy, just celebrated the birth of his third and fourth kids- twins.”
“He’s a father… Woo, that’s odd to imagine,” Anders admitted with a crooked smile. “In my head I still remember him as an eight year old child. And you…?”
“Two daughters,” Filipe replied, glancing away again. “Though the low number isn’t for lack of trying- my wife has difficulty carrying. We did have a son, but he… the malaria plague during the drought…”
Anders winced, “I see- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It was a natural question to ask, after I brought up Dems’ kids,” Filipe said. Anders looked confused for a moment- then oddly sad. It took Filipe a few seconds to realize that his brother must not have recognized “Dems” as a nickname for “Dimitri.” It was probably saddening for the elder man to realize that apparently Filipe was close enough to their brother to have an affectionate moniker for him that Anders didn’t even recognize. Shaking this train of thought off, Filipe asked, “You?”
“Single,” Anders replied automatically. “And that’s not likely to change since I don’t really get out much. And even if I did, my tastes are such that children aren’t likely to enter the picture.”
“Your tastes are- ah, I see,” Filipe managed a dry smile. “Well I guess if nothing else, you dodged a bullet where that’s concerned.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed. “...Did you hear about Heather’s son?”
“Priam?” Filipe said. “Of course- I offered to take him into the care of House Escalus, should the Oberons decide to repudiate him. After what Heather did.”
“No, I mean did you hear about what happened to him?” Anders pressed.
“...Happened?”
“He was a tool to her, Filipe. A pawn to legitimize her marriage to Cyril and raise into a puppet heir to control House Oberon. To say she wasn’t a good mother is putting it mildly.”
The younger brother winced. “Ah… and so the cycle repeats itself.” He rubbed his face. “At least he’s still young. He can grow past this, with enough love and support. Be it from House Oberon or House Escalus- he won’t grow up like we did, Anders. He won’t.”
Anders nodded. “I hope not. I really hope not. I wouldn’t wish the pain and dysfunction of our childhood on anyone.” He huffed. “Take care of those kids of yours, Filipe- you and Dimitri both. And take care of each other. The bad apples have been plucked from the family tree. We have to make sure that what’s left puts down strong roots.”
“Yeah,” the younger man agreed, sounding his voice tired, but without doubt. “And even if we don’t see each other again after this… Thanks, Anders. For talking to me. I think it’s put a lot into perspective for both of us.”
Anders stood, offering Filipe a hand to help him up. The lord of House Escalus accepted it, and let his older brother pull him to his feet.
“Filipe. You’re here because of what happened with Heather, right?”
The lord of House Escalus looked away, trying to keep his shoulders from trembling. “I don’t see how it’s really any of your-”
“Filipe, she’s my sister too,” Anders cut in. “My squad was taken off of a mission for the Jades over what she pulled. It very much is my business, but I’m not here to judge you or make accusations. I want to talk. That’s all.”
Filipe whipped his head back around, mouth agape. “You were- why? None of House Escalus has seen or heard from you in over a decade!”
“And I’m sure you haven’t seen or heard from our dear sister since her marriage, but here you are anyway,” Anders glanced at the carriage, adding, “I’ve gotten less messy tokens of people’s disapproval, but I’ve gotten them all the same.”
He shook his head. “But Filipe, that’s not why I’m here. I was hoping we could talk. Alone.”
That earned some less-than-approving grunts from the Escalus knights who’d been standing by the carriage, and one of them said, “Even if the mood of the city weren’t so hostile that would be unwise. Someone of his lordship’s status...”
Anders rolled his eyes. “I’m a fireknight of House Jade, I’m perfectly equipped to keep him safe if it came to that- not to mention I’m certain he’s trained at the Iphicles Institute, as per House tradition.” The man shifted his arm, holding out the bundle of dark green fabric to his brother. “But as long as he covers up the flashy orange and blue silks it shouldn’t come to that.”
Filipe looked at the cloth- he could see now it was a hooded cloak- with no small amount of uncertainty. But at length he rubbed his face, and reached out to take it. “Stay here,” the lord instructed his knights. “And don’t come rushing after me in a panic after an hour; there’s no telling how long this conversation might take.”
The look the knights gave Filipe was extremely disapproving, but they knew better than to argue. The young Escalus lord pulled the cloak on over his formal silks, almost completely hiding them from view, though in the heat of the Corvid summer he didn’t pull the hood up. Hopefully members of the Escalus family besides Anders were a rare enough sight in the capital that his face wouldn’t be recognizable.
Neither brother spoke as they wended through the city streets of Solis. Filipe had no idea where they were going- he had only ever travelled the route between the gate and the manor- but Anders seemed entirely comfortable, no doubt having learned every back alley and shortcut in town during his life as a knight here.
Anders eventually came to a stop in a secluded corner of one of the city’s many expansive parks, one that was clearly seldom visited as the dirt footpath was mostly grown over with grass. A large weeping willow tree shielded it from view to anyone else, and Anders had to brush some old leaves and twigs off of the sun-bleached wooden bench before he sat, gesturing for Filipe to do the same on the bench across from him. The younger man did so, his throat tight with nerves.
“I was warned you were coming by Lady Chamile,” Anders said without preamble. “She thought I might want to avoid the manor during your visit, and on any other occasion she’d have probably been right. But… I think, if you’re amenable, it might be time to finally…” he seemed to grope for the right way to say what he was thinking, before finally settling on, “Clear the air.”
“...Well that was more blunt than I was expecting,” Filipe admitted, startling a breathless laugh out of Anders.
“The only way I was going to be able to do this and not chicken out was by ripping off the bandage all in one go,” he explained. “Sorry if that was… awkward.”
Filipe bit his lip, looking away. “Why now? I tried to reach out to you after Father died, but you didn’t even open the note.”
“I didn’t know it was from you, for one,” Anders noted with a frown. “You didn’t send it as a brother reaching out- you sent it was the Lord of House Escalus to another member of your house. Sealed with the official wax and everything. I thought Father had sent it.”
“Y-yeah I… I figured,” Filipe admitted. “Still. If Father had been trying to contact you, why push him away? He was dying, Anders, it wouldn’t have killed you to go easy on him.”
Anders covered his face, giving a long, slow exhale. “It wasn’t like he ever went easy on me. I’m not the sort of man for fake deathbed reconciliation.”
“He regretted it. In the end. How he’d treated you, and Dimitri.”
Anders bit his lip, his eyes downcast. Then he shook his head. “I didn’t come here to talk about our Father, Filipe. I came to talk about us. The situation with Heather… it’s made me realize just how little I know about who my siblings have become. How foolish it’d be to keep blaming them for our father’s actions when they had as little agency over him as I did over Heather.”
Filipe winced. “You say it isn’t about our father, but then you immediately admit it is,” He grumbled, but then he relented. “I’m sorry. You just… surprised me, is all. Given everything else that’s going on, picking over old, festering wounds I’ve done my best to ignore for over a decade was the last thing I expected to be doing today.”
Anders ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Filipe uncannily of their father- though he had the sense not to make this observation out loud. “If it really bothers you, I can go. Far be it for me to force myself on someone who doesn’t want anything to do with me after what I did to your letter.”
“...No,” Filipe sighed. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen. It’s the least I can do. Still though- why now?”
Anders looked a little more hopeful at this, not quite smiling but certainly perking up a bit. “Thanks. I had to psyche myself up a lot to even work up the nerve to do this. I’ve been… avoiding the issue for a long time. As for why, well what happened with Heather kind of forced me to look back and really examine how much of my resentment towards our family was… misplaced. I was angry at our Father, but that was no reason to keep holding a grudge against you.”
Filipe inclined his head. “I guess that makes sense. It’s almost flattering really, that you had to psyche yourself up on my account. I’m hardly going to bite you.”
The elder of the two gave a soft, rueful laugh. “Ever the mediator. Some things never change, I guess.”
That comment rankled, and Filipe frowned, though he diplomatically admitted, “It’s probably part of why some people find it easy to assume I would be complicit in Heather’s schemes. I’ve been doing my best to shake the reputation of being weak willed and indecisive, but…”
“As I’ve been doing my best to shake my reputation as a foul tempered lout who ran away from home,” Anders said, his tone surprisingly sympathetic. “It’s hard to disprove people’s perceptions when they’re grounded in fact. Outdated fact, sometimes, but I’ve found people tend to hang on to their impressions even if it’s been long enough to reasonably assume a person to have changed.”
“If you realize that, why dismiss what you thought was an offer of reconciliation from Father so offhand?” Filipe demanded before he had a chance to think about the implications of what he was asking. He immediately winced as Anders jaw clenched.
“...He hurt me, Filipe,” the older man said through his teeth. “It isn’t just about making assumptions about what kind of man he is. He, very directly, entirely without a second thought, hurt me. Chucked me aside like yesterday’s trash. Let me spend years feeling like I wasn’t good enough. I’d found my own way and people who made me feel like I was actually worth something. I’ve grown beyond the little boy who was desperate for his approval, and I wasn’t interested in his apologies.”
“But you want me to take your apologies, right?” Filipe asked, his frustration bubbling up now. “I mean, you hurt me. So many times, I can’t even count, and yet I tried to reach out to you years ago.”
“I wasn’t- I didn’t-”
“You did. Woo, you did,” Filipe snapped. “You want to know the truth, Anders? You were a bully. If I’m insecure and indecisive and have no confidence, you certainly didn’t do anything to help that! I would try to reach out to you, to include you in what I was doing, and you’d lash out at me like I’d done something wrong!”
“...Been holding on to that a long time, haven’t you?” Anders demanded, his shoulders shaking. “You know what, I was trying to be polite about this, but fine. If we’re just laying it all out in the open, fine.” He met his younger brother’s eyes squarely, his muscles tight. “I was a bully, was I? Well you were a show off. I wanted so badly to prove that I was worth something, but all our father cared about was magic, and that was the one thing I could never have. Yet you kept shoving your magic in my face, wanting me to coo over it like our father was doing. You wanted me to reinforce how bloody special you were. That’s why I got angry and lashed out.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Filipe demanded. “Is that really what you think? Because yeah, maybe as I kid I wanted you to be excited about what I could do, but it wasn’t because I was going on some ego trip! And it certainly wasn’t to spite you, Anders, I was nine!”
Anders hissed, hands clenched over his legs. “You had everything I wanted. Everything I worked for almost a decade to prove I was worthy of. All because you could make flowers change color with your mind. And you flaunted it.”
“Oh my Woo, you think I wanted to be the lord? I’d have given the heirship back to you in a heartbeat if I could! I hated having to talk to all those strangers, having to sit at Father’s right hand at banquets in the center of everyone’s attention, having all the pressure on me to live up to the reputation of the mighty, ancient House Escalus! Every time I struggled in an etiquette lesson I wanted to curl up into a hole and hide! Frankly I never got how you could want all that!”
“It was never about being the heir!” Anders bellowed, lurching to his feet. “It was about having respect! It was about our father acknowledging that I was capable, even if I couldn’t make platters fly through the air at the dinner table by waggling a stick!”
Filipe remained sitting, quivering in spite of himself. “Again- I was a child. Children do stupid things to show off when they’re excited about mastering a new skill. That doesn’t mean there was any malice behind it; I was never trying to make you feel inferior!”
“But you want me to forgive our father- the man who did make me feel inferior. You want me to make amends with him, and you’re mad that in a hypothetical situation where I might’ve, I chose not to. How easy it must be to take his side when you are and always were his bloody favorite, his chosen one, his-”
Filipe rocketed to his feet, fists clenched, and before he had time to think about what he was doing, he’d swung one of those fists straight into his older brother’s jaw. Clearly caught off guard, Anders staggered with the blow, putting up a hand to the rapidly reddening spot.
“This… this wooforsaken competition you’ve built up between us in your head, it doesn’t exist, Anders!” Filipe shouted. “It’s never existed! You’re the one who always wanted to win, who wanted to beat me, who wanted to be the apple of Father’s eye and to prove you were as good as me or better. You know what I wanted? I wanted a brother.”
Anders gaped up at Filipe, seeming at a loss for words. Taking advantage of the silence, Filipe railed on.
“You talk about how you felt like you had no worth, about how you were condescended to and supplanted. But all this time, all my life, all I wanted was for my big brother to love me! I hero-worshiped you, Anders! When you started lashing out at me, it crushed me. When you left, I blamed myself! I felt like the worst kind of brother, like a thief and a traitor and a fake. I felt worthless. Sound familiar? Does that sound bloody familiar, Anders?”
Anders swallowed hard, one hand still cupped over the blooming purple bruise on his face. He looked down, his eyes flicking back and forth as if he were trying desperately to think of something, anything to offer as a rebuttal. Then, his shoulders slumped.
“...Okay,” he said finally, gingerly pressing on the welt on his chin. “I guess I did deserve this. I’ve always been good at projecting- at forcing my pain on other people, deserved or not.” He slowly stood, rubbing his face. “And I guess I’ve also sanitized my own role in our childhoods because it was easier on me.”
He gave a long, slow inhale, then sighed, meeting Filipe’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m really, deeply sorry. For everything- for being a snotty little brat to you for no reason, for holding you in such low esteem all this time, and most of all, for not saying something a whole lot sooner. This isn’t, and never was your fault.”
Filipe’s jaw was trembling, and his eyes seared. He was still keyed up and very much seething, but he no longer had a good outlet for that anger. Eventually he slumped, falling back onto the bench with his hands on his knees.
“What now?” he demanded. “We kiss and make up? Almost thirty years of dysfunction and misplaced anger goes up in smoke? Poof? Happy ending?”
“I think we both know that’s not realistic,” Anders replied, sitting as well. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if we… never really have the sort of relationship we should have had as brothers. But maybe… maybe, if we can accept what happened, and the ways we were- and weren’t- at fault for how everything fell out… maybe we can finally stop being weighed down by it.”
He shook his head. “You aren’t worthless, Filipe. And my decisions are nobody’s fault but my own. If my childhood prattishness is holding you back somehow… well. I guess I can always let you hit me again. However many times you need to feel like there’s some sort of equalization.”
Filipe managed a tired laugh. “You don’t want that- your face would be hamburger before I was done.” He shook his head. “Besides, you aren’t the one I want to hit- not really. That bratty, self-centered teenager I remember clearly doesn’t exist anymore. He’d never have admitted I was right, much less apologized.”
The younger man sighed. “On some level I guess I do understand. You wanted and never got from Father the same I wanted from you and never got. I loved him, and it… bothers me, having to come to terms with the idea that he wasn’t always the perfect, loving parent I wanted him to be. So if there’s been sanitizing, it’s been mutual.”
Anders looked like he appreciated this comment, though he had the sense not to say anything about it. The brothers sat together, lost in thought, and at length Anders asked, “Is Dimitri…”
“He’s fine,” Filipe replied, lifting his head to meet his brother’s eyes. “Married, happy, just celebrated the birth of his third and fourth kids- twins.”
“He’s a father… Woo, that’s odd to imagine,” Anders admitted with a crooked smile. “In my head I still remember him as an eight year old child. And you…?”
“Two daughters,” Filipe replied, glancing away again. “Though the low number isn’t for lack of trying- my wife has difficulty carrying. We did have a son, but he… the malaria plague during the drought…”
Anders winced, “I see- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It was a natural question to ask, after I brought up Dems’ kids,” Filipe said. Anders looked confused for a moment- then oddly sad. It took Filipe a few seconds to realize that his brother must not have recognized “Dems” as a nickname for “Dimitri.” It was probably saddening for the elder man to realize that apparently Filipe was close enough to their brother to have an affectionate moniker for him that Anders didn’t even recognize. Shaking this train of thought off, Filipe asked, “You?”
“Single,” Anders replied automatically. “And that’s not likely to change since I don’t really get out much. And even if I did, my tastes are such that children aren’t likely to enter the picture.”
“Your tastes are- ah, I see,” Filipe managed a dry smile. “Well I guess if nothing else, you dodged a bullet where that’s concerned.”
“I suppose so,” he agreed. “...Did you hear about Heather’s son?”
“Priam?” Filipe said. “Of course- I offered to take him into the care of House Escalus, should the Oberons decide to repudiate him. After what Heather did.”
“No, I mean did you hear about what happened to him?” Anders pressed.
“...Happened?”
“He was a tool to her, Filipe. A pawn to legitimize her marriage to Cyril and raise into a puppet heir to control House Oberon. To say she wasn’t a good mother is putting it mildly.”
The younger brother winced. “Ah… and so the cycle repeats itself.” He rubbed his face. “At least he’s still young. He can grow past this, with enough love and support. Be it from House Oberon or House Escalus- he won’t grow up like we did, Anders. He won’t.”
Anders nodded. “I hope not. I really hope not. I wouldn’t wish the pain and dysfunction of our childhood on anyone.” He huffed. “Take care of those kids of yours, Filipe- you and Dimitri both. And take care of each other. The bad apples have been plucked from the family tree. We have to make sure that what’s left puts down strong roots.”
“Yeah,” the younger man agreed, sounding his voice tired, but without doubt. “And even if we don’t see each other again after this… Thanks, Anders. For talking to me. I think it’s put a lot into perspective for both of us.”
Anders stood, offering Filipe a hand to help him up. The lord of House Escalus accepted it, and let his older brother pull him to his feet.
