Miina froze on entering the baths. Not because she had any particular aversion to communal bathing – it would be fairly ridiculous if she did and trying to wrap her head around everyone else's idea of acceptable dress was a chore. It was much simpler: Izayoi was already there. She'd been trying to avoid being alone with the other Mystral… well, since she woke up after the fight.
She already had one Ospreyan professing an uncomfortable level of guilt for what had happened, she didn't need another. Or want to have that much attention, really.
But it was too late to back out now, coming in wasn't at all unobtrusive. There was nothing for it but to wash and slip in the water and hope the conversation was short.
Evidently, Viscount Breien was somewhat fastidious about his hygiene. Or at least aimed to give the impression of it, considering the size and scale of his keep’s bathing facilities. Regardless, Izayoi made certain to take full advantage of the situation, enjoying her first hot bath ever since she’d left sickbed.
Miina’s entrance was marked with a twitch of Izayoi’s ears as she heard the footsteps, and the samurai glanced over, immediately marking out the unnatural slackness of one of her younger cousin’s arms.
”Still injured? You ought to have said something. Will you require aid bathing, then?”
“No…” Without a further word, Miina set to undressing – somewhat inconvenient – and washing – easy. It wasn’t like she really needed both arms for this. Sure, anything that required holding one thing in place and manipulating it sucked, but the actual washing? She was flexible; the biggest pain was that of course her arm didn’t resist being moved…
Really, it was the strangeness of it that bothered her. It wasn’t something that felt like a part of her body despite obviously being so; she could imagine what the sensation should be when she touched it but there was nothing at all, just a slight pulling on her torso. This despite feeling every bit as warm as the other arm, or the slightly raised texture of the scars.
In what felt like no time at all, even if it was slightly longer than she would otherwise have taken, the redhead was sliding into the hot water and for once not having to make a conscious effort not to look at the older woman’s body, instead conspicuously interested in the ceiling.
Was that a tile mosaic…?
For her part, Izayoi had finished actually cleaning herself some time ago, and was merely relaxing in the bath, hair having been worn down for ease of washing. As a result, this gave her more than enough opportunity to evaluate Miina as she cleaned, especially considering the latter was more interested in staring up at the ceiling than anything else.
Miina didn’t appear to be in any sort of obvious pain. Rather, the arm was simply unusable. Some sort of…magical backlash, perhaps? The source was obvious. Only the exact mechanics weren’t. Izayoi was no great scholar of materia or magical theory. But whatever Miina had done to ensure her strike cleaved the Comet had clearly rent its toll.
”Miina.” Izayoi’s voice rang clearly across the bath once the younger Mystrel had finished with her ablutions.
”This was because of the Behemoth?” Her gaze lingered on the ostensibly useless arm. Her tone was neither overly conciliatory nor dismissive, merely focused on the hard facts of the situation. ”How long, by your estimate?”
“Mmm,” Miina hummed in agreement, shifting in the water. She really didn’t want to have this conversation again, but… being evasive wouldn’t do her any good either, would it? Galahad was going to spread the information around whether she liked it or not.
Although, she could hope that Izayoi wouldn’t demand the full explanation of how this happened. Repeating that would be even more annoying.
“F-Forever, I think,” the mage admitted, giving as much of a shrug as she was physically capable of. Well, forever or as close as made no difference; it wasn’t something that could be healed now and she knew it wouldn’t improve on its own.
Izayoi remained silent at the admission for several moments, before bowing her head towards her cousin. Compared to the price of one’s own life, a single arm was worth far less. But that wasn’t the kind of sentiment that needed to be vocalized.
”Then we all owe you a debt. Without your efforts, the Behemoth would have killed us all. Thank you, Cousin.”
The specifics of how it happened were unimportant. Considering that Miina had been amplifying the efforts of multiple materia users there at the end, Izayoi could hazard something of a guess as to what exactly occurred.
“Would’ve k-killed me t-too…” Miina muttered, blushing and sinking down into the water. Yes, if she thought about it, without her assistance it probably would have gotten out of control, or at best the backlash would have been even worse and focused entirely on Izayoi rather than being even slightly diffused… but it was still a selfish choice on her end.
Casting around for a distraction, she settled on the very thing she had just been trying to avoid: as long as Izayoi wasn’t going to be cloyingly sympathetic or bother her about the ‘how’, there were still the practical considerations.
“It was my d-dominant hand, so… well, d-d-don’t ask me to write, or rrrrreally anything t-too detailed or… use a sword? I’m n-not sure I would even n-n-notice if someone c-cut this arm, it’s p-probably a bad idea…”
Much like Miina, Izayoi was unconcerned with too many overt displays of emotion regarding this topic. Once the matter was settled, it was back to practicalities.
”You’ll forgive me for saying so, but ‘tis hardly as if I’ve ever seen you wield that sword of yours you carry. Still, with only your non-dominant arm…” She gave Miina an appraising look.
”Perhaps a focus of some sort? Other magi carry staves, no? Or something smaller, mayhaps.”
Izayoi was right, Miina had hardly ever used the sword since joining up – with so many other warriors, it had just been entirely unnecessary. But it was more the point that if someone did get in close she didn’t even have it as a backup. Or if she pushed herself too far and casting was out of the question.
“Maybe I c-c-could get it modified?I’m used to p-pointing with it,” which seemed to be about half of what any given catalyst was used for; and it would hardly be like the shape of it really mattered, right? Use what you had on hand and all. She imagined most used staves because… well, long stick of wood where its exact physical hardness wasn’t that important.
”One would have to have it reforged at that point. If your concern is self-defense, perhaps a dagger or a shortsword? The castle smithy ought to have both in ample supply.” Izayoi remarked. She sank deeper into the water, unwilling to leave the scalding waters of the bath quite so soon.
”With both Neve and Eve gone from our ranks, we’ve left all matters of magic up to you. Had we the time, I would try to rectify that.” She frowned at the thought. ”But we do not.” She squinted at her cousin, one other thing coming to mind while they were here.
”You’ve been getting along well with my former subordinate, I hear. She is…well? The girl will hardly open up to me, after all.”
“You c-could say that…” Miina answered, sinking further in herself and turning her attention fully back to the ceiling. Not that ‘getting along’ with Chisato was entirely bad; it would have made a few things more inconvenient over the past few days. Getting her to go off and focus on her own equipment, though, was necessary to not feel stifled.
Although maybe she should’ve left that until after dressing. But then she wouldn’t have been able to beat his mistake into Galahad’s head…?
“She feels g-g-guilty for some reason. K-Keeps trying to make it up.”
Guilt from a shinobi? That was a new one. Though Izayoi supposed that the equation changed somewhat when it came to the injury of a comrade, as opposed to the number of heinous acts she’d ordered Chisato to perform years ago in the name of victory.
Regardless, she nodded along. ”Regardless, interacting with those not raised as human weapons ought be good for her. T’would be appreciated from myself, as well.”
Was that somewhat hypocritical, coming from a woman raised to be a warrior since she was a child? Perhaps. But she’d had decades to grow past that.
“W-Well, I need the help…” the redhead admitted, shifting in the bath again, “D-D-Dressing and all.”
If it was somewhere warmer, where she didn’t have to worry about sleeves, it wouldn’t matter, but they were going to Skael, and so it did. Maybe if she could work out some way to do it magically instead…? Was something like that even possible? Well, there might be some materia squirreled away in their destination that could do it, but surely a mage ought to be able to?
Just, from what she’d seen, it wasn’t like mages tended to have such mundane concerns on their mind. The Grovemasters had been busy with being in charge and healing, and everyone else was rather more interested in combat. Shame they couldn’t look around those ruins…
She really needed to grab Rudolf some day.
”I can help you once we’ve finished bathing, then.” Izayoi nodded. She’d known men who’d lost hands and arms before, even commanded them. But even that was simpler than having to maneuver a dead limb through clothes. At the same time…
”Perhaps this is ironic, considering what many refer to me as, but I am not unfamiliar with allies who have lost limbs. You can adjust. At the very least, not losing the actual arm would mean that you’ll not have to adjust your center of balance. Regardless, I believe we’ve stayed in here long enough. Ought we leave before we prune?”
“Y-Yeah, I j-just have something th-that swings about with any m-m-movement. K-Keep bashing into things…” And then having to heal the bruises, when she spotted them, because that was embarrasing.
With the others spread out within the manor's grounds, resting, recuperating, or merely enjoying the baths—Esben was left with little more after his own trip to the bathhouse than strolling the grounds, peeking at the results of Halvor's new gardening hobby, enjoying the air, and hoping he could finally get the local lord alone before long. Whether Viscount Breien was aware that he'd become Esben's newest target, he couldn't say, but the man had been doing an admirable job of avoiding being cornered at almost every turn. The afternoon passed into what he might call the first truly comfortable night they'd had since leaving Drana Asnaeu: No fresh fights, no fresh wounds, no fresh bad news, just a simple opportunity to try and relax.
The next morning, however, he set right back to trying to corner their host after taking a light breakfast. Halvor at last seemed to have left himself open; he'd been worried for a moment when he didn't join them all for breakfast, but now Esben could see him standing there in the courtyard. There were fresh tracks from a chocobo-pulled carriage that covered the ground from the entrance, crossing over the ruts their own wagon had left on their way to the stables.
No matter.
"Halvor, I really must protest this delay!" Halvor started as Esben strode up quickly and moved immediately into talking business without any other greeting. "We all appreciate what you're trying to do for us here, but we really can't afford to tarry for whatever diversion you have planned today—we need to leave tod—"
"Nonsense," Halvor cut in, composure regained. "You're all looking better, but my physicians will still be checking you all out. You'll stay another night. And believe me, Esben, you'd have been more disappointed if I didn't keep you here."
"This is directly impacting my assignment," Esben hissed in frustration. "Not to mention that some of us have more to worry about in Solitude! Éliane's family—"
"Young master." Esben turned sharply at the unexpected voice, staring at the man it came from. Obviously getting on in years, openly greying, and with prominent scars upon his cheeks and nose, he looked at Esben with a stern expression. "You haven't been sleeping properly. Should we truly force you to accept hospitality?"
"Ah, Anders, I told you at the gate that he's been argumentative lately," Halvor greeted the older man with a nod. "You see, Esben, I had reason for telling you it was good that you came, even if we couldn't get everybody here I would have preferred..."
"The baron sends his apologies, my lord Breien. Mathias and Ada couldn't extricate themselves from their other duties long enough to come here with the way things have been...apparently there's good trade with Drana Asnaeu as of late, and they're capitalizing on maritime routes for it rather than risk the Blight taking a caravan."
"Would either of you care to inform me as to what is going on, now?" Esben demanded, butting in before any unhelpful speculation or questions could come from either of them regarding the events in Brightlam.
"Esben!"
"Lene?"
Another loose collection of blonde hair showed itself, poking out from the stables. One matching Esben's own in colour, closer even than Halvor's sandy mane came. Esben could only furrow his brow as the young woman the voice belonged to rushed over, wrapping him into a hug. Halvor smiled at him, and he could even see the barest turn at the corner of Anders' mouth. "You see? I told you that you'd have been disappointed to miss out!"
The rest of the day passed by rather quickly. Esben found himself swept up in helping his sister and his former tutor preparing their things, as they'd evidently planned on a noticeably longer stay than Halvor was making the Kirins endure. He was also rapidly brought up to speed on his family's business dealings, leaving him blessedly free of any questions as to what he'd been doing since last he'd written home before being sent northwards...Though that didn't save him from being informed that he needed to make sure to write home more often when given the chance.
Whether those were his sister's words or his mother's courtesy of his sister, he was unsure.
It seemed like barely any time had passed at all though before he was sent away as she put her mind to preparing herself for the dinner they were to have that night. Halvor had made it clear it was to be some sort of important event, making sure the Kirins would each have something acceptable to wear, but he'd certainly not made it seem quite so important as she was treating it. Not to him, at least.
When they were called to dinner later that afternoon, some of them even found themselves assigned seats; Halvor unsurprisingly at the head of the table, with Rudolf and Lene to either side. Esben was placed next to Lene, Anders the next down from him; opposite them were Izayoi and Galahad, with the remainder of the Kirins given leave to choose their own seats. Once they were all seated, Halvor stood, gesturing widely at them with his free hand, the other holding a glass of wine.
"Thank you all for putting up with my keeping you here," he began with a bashful smile. "And sorry that I had to drag you all into this surprise. I am glad, though, that so many of Rudolf's friends could be here, in the place of his family; I'd been hoping that at least Cadmon could make it, but he did write to inform me that events conspired to prevent his attendance before you all made it. At the same time, I'm sorry that Mathias and Ada could not be here, though thankfully we do have Esben, able to bridge the gap between our two parties here."
He cleared his throat, while Esben continued to sit silently. Lene did as well, though she appeared eminently more comfortable with the situation at hand than he did; whatever it was, clearly she had some sort of foreknowledge. She'd spent some time studying each of the Kirins features as they entered and took their seats, though the most of her focus had been on Rudolf across the table from her. Somehow, Esben felt uncomfortable for the man.
"But, of course, it doesn't do to dwell on those. No, we have more to focus on today, even if my surprise was half-ruined on the journey here!" Lene looked down towards the table, though Esben could tell she was stifling a small laugh. "Lene, you already know, but Rudolf—this was an idea of mine and Cadmon's, that we'd been discussing for a while. Lene here is Esben's sister, the younger child of baron Mathias Cadon; Lene, the young man across from you is Rudolf Shilage, second child of sir István Shilage, nephew of a sort to earl Cadmon Demet. After we broached the idea to your parents, they all agreed that the two of you could make a good match, and I've been given the honor of introducing the two of you!"
Lene looked back up, facing Rudolf with a friendly smile. Esben blinked once, muscles in his jaw flexing immediately as he kept it clamped shut to keep from saying or doing anything embarrassing as Halvor continued along. "It is your decision, of course, but Cadmon has excellent instincts for this sort of thing—and I should hope your parents, you two, are proof enough that I'm no slouch either!"
He had to try not to groan.
"Please, all of you, eat, drink, be merry, feel free to trade stories back and forth to help Lene and Rudolf get to know each other. I am glad to have you all here to celebrate the provisional—" he winked at the pair sat closest to him, "—betrothal of Rudi and Lene!"
As much was Esben was cross about spending extra time here, Éliane was glad for the pit stop, if only just barely. Like everyone else, she was quite motivated to get to bottom of whatever was happening in Solitude—the stakes she had in it did not need to be said more. On the other hand, being able to work with the smith had given her a rare opportunity to get some real repairs and upgrades done under a real Skaelan professional’s eye.
Her gunblade received a much-needed look over, and more importantly, she was able to get the mini gun repaired. It had been a rushed job, but the man was able to actually machine new parts in time to be fitted for the pieces that had been too mangled in the drop for any field repairs. She even was able to swap her wind and fire materia for new ones—between her overuse of it and whatever Esben had done with them while she was unconscious or recovering, they sorely needed replacement for something that wasn’t so worn out.
She’d picked up a new one, too, although how she’d use it in the future was yet to be seen.
Her regular sword and rifle had seen less overall wear, and she didn’t bother to ask for those to be looked over. She was perfectly capable of looking over those herself, and between her small arsenal and the rest of the Kirins, the smith looked about ready to keel over by the end.
Thankfully, Éliane slept quite well. It was a shame there wasn’t good caffeine at this estate.
The rest of the next day passed mostly uneventfully for Éliane. Surprisingly, she did come across an acquaintance—Anders, an instructor that she knew in passing at the garden. Éliane was able to have a small chat with him, but as the night drew closer, she had to admit, even she was slightly apprehensive now about dinner at a lord’s mansion. For some strange, cursed reason, nonsense always seemed to happen in those cases! Never mind that Éliane tended to have a hand in making some of those incidents worse, she still knew something was going to happen.
And now, sitting unusually far away from Esben at the dinner table, she was witness to yet another… incident. Éliane’s head became a swivel as she looked back and forth between Rudolf, the newly introduced Lene, and then Esben, a vacant, confused look on her face.
In the end, she decided to roll with it that usual way that made it difficult to tell if she was being incredibly earnest or at Rudolf’s expense. She began clapping excitedly, ignoring the slight twinge that remained in her back as she smiled. “Wow! Congratulations, Rudi!”
Rudolf's marriage (or rejection thereof; she assumed he was going to say no sooner or later) was really none of Miina's business, but she did appreciate that it meant rather a lot more food to eat… except for the minor problem that she couldn't very well serve any of it herself, let alone eat it. Well, she could probably eat it, if there wasn't such a preponderance of sauced things and stews would be right out, but…
Maybe she should get some sort of sling just to send the message? It wasn't like holding her arm immobile would actually help, the joints and all were physically fine, but at least anyone they spoke to would get "Oh, the little redhead only has one working arm" without needing to explain it. Thoughts for another day, or if they got dragged to some fancy dinner in Solitude when they were meant to be killing Valheim.
That blonde woman seemed like the type, right? Esben should know.
Really, she should have thought more about the seating arrangements, ending up with nobody to her left but Éliane and Chisato opposite meant they wouldn't be much help. She just had… whoever this old man was to her right. He'd have to do; it wasn't as if there was anyone else without just getting up and walking around…
Hm, flagging a servant? Maybe. Was that allowed?
Old man it was.
Turning to make it easier, Miina gave Anders a few cautious pokes. "Umm… c-c-could you help? My rrrright arm's… well it d-doesn't work…"
Lene spared a quick glance to Esben off to her left. Her older brother sat quietly, as was often his wont, though she couldn't miss the strain he had keeping his polite smile. It was only natural; after witnessing him starting to argue with Halvor earlier in the day, he was clearly busy with something important, and his patience for complete diversions had never been great. She'd never expected to see him quite so tense, though, but there was no helping it. At least he'd made sure to dress well, although she would have rather had the chance to actually coordinate something between himself, herself, and Anders. The long red skirt and pleated blouse she wore, with her hair tightly braided to keep out of the way, was—in her opinion—the perfect thing to wear for a dinner such as this, neither too much nor too little. Anders was dressed simply as well, as befit a knightly servant to a baronial family. Her brother was wearing clearly borrowed clothes, though he looked decidedly more comfortable in them than the Solitude-styled clothes she'd seen him in when he first graduated from the Garden...Before deciding to do multiple more years of study. Clean shirt, comfortable trousers, but none of the decorations that would normally drive him mad, but his colours were just as blank and subdued as ever, and didn't serve to present a united front between the three of them at all. If she didn't know he was surprised by this, he'd have earned a scolding for as soon as it was all done.
She shifted slightly in her seat, eyes falling back on the young man seated across from her as she straightened her skirt. He was dressed in something decidedly a step more formal than she'd worn, unsurprisingly; it would never do to be underdressed, but Halvor had a habit of overdressing, and was pushing that onto his ward and other guests. The fit was tighter around the neck and sleeves than she'd been expecting, from how he'd been described to her parents...and the scarring hadn't been mentioned at all. But the hair was right, the height, and there was nothing to his demeanour to suggest he might be pretending at being 'Rudolf Shilage.' Either he was a very good actor, or he was genuine.
Of course, from what Anders had told her, Halvor and the earl Demet had never said anything about so many friends either. Certainly not her own brother. Rudolf Shilage was as much a mystery now as when she'd first gotten Anders to tell her his name, she decided.
She smiled at him, but she could tell from the hollowness of his own expression that he was even more surprised than her brother. Mysteries could be fun, but she didn't want to send Halvor into a tizzy or distress her potential fiancé before he could even catch up with what was happening. She turned to the side, towards the pair sat next to him. A Mystrel woman, clearly dressed in Ospreyan style, likely the oldest of their group, or just the one who had lived the hardest...perhaps both. And next down from her, a man who was likely near her brother's age, maybe a little older, yet another one built like he was used to hard travel and fighting, with some scars to match. Scars on all of them, even her brother...
She kept her smile in spite of the pang of worry she felt. "Well, we should at least keep the introductions moving, ja?" she joked. "So many people, and only one I recognize and another in a uniform I know—and I didn't even give poor Esben the chance to tell me all your names earlier today. It's good of you to stand in for his family when they can't be here, but could Herr Anders and I know just who all has been keeping an eye on poor Rudolf for us?"
She tapped Esben's foot with her own, getting him to look back towards her and the others at the table when his eyes had been darting between Rudolf and Halvor. The servants worked around them all, setting dishes down from which they could serve themselves. "Esben, you've been travelling with them too, haven't you? Be a good brother and help us get to know each other, won't you?"
She looked up and smiled at him. "Ah, of course," he said, blinking once and sighing. Another mystery; even when he was surprised, normally he didn't struggle this much on the uptake. It wouldn't do for poor Halvor's nerves to let herself frown at that, though, so she added it to the rest of figuring out just what had been happening to all of them. "Across from me is Furuya Izayoi, a former retainer of the Rijin clan of Osprey. Next to her is Galahad Caradoc—"
"The dragoon?"
"The very same, son of Duke Artorias Caradoc of Midgar. Owing to the roles that they have...partly adopted, and have partly had thrust upon them, while we travel, as well as the Midgari connection with sir Galahad, I'm sure you can imagine why they've been sat in lieue of Rudolf's parents." She allowed herself a somewhat more genuine smile; Esben was peculiar, but at least once she got him started he could get with the flow of things. "Izayoi, Galahad, this is my sister, Lene; to my left is sir Anders, a sometimes-instructor at the Garden and retainer of our own family. For the others further down—next to Anders we have Miina Malina from Drana Asnaeu, next to Galahad is dame commander Éliane Laruelle of Solitude, and then Asakura Chisato, also from Osprey. We—most of us, at least—have been travelling together for the last few months."
She smirked up at him. "Is that why you haven't written home in so long?" she teased. He frowned down at her. "Are we not here discussing your betrothal? Perhaps you should be more demure."
Ah, Esben, I have you now! Her eyes dropped slightly, and she nodded timidly. "Of course. I'm sorry, Esben, you know I like the excitement of meeting new people, and all of such personage..."
"Lene!"
"Esben, be nice to your sister," Halvor piped up suddenly, glaring sternly at her brother in an admirable impression of Anders' look earlier that day. She kicked him a second time, grinning wider, and he sighed once more, a touch more dramatically than before, while she faced lady Izayoi and sir Galahad once again. "Well, my brother's impoliteness aside, it's nice to meet all of you!"
As he finished dishing himself out some of the potage that had been brought out first, and deposited a slice of bread onto a plate, Anders felt light fingers prodding at his arm. He turned towards the diminutive girl sat next to him, and after a moment of contemplation, gave her a single nod, as despite Lene and Esben's introductions, he'd yet to be called into their discussion directly. "Of course, young miss," he replied. "No need to be so timid. Would you like to try the tourin?"
Rudolf's jaw quietly worked in the blessed gap between moments he may have needed to speak, still reeling internally from Halvor's grand announcement1. In the moments just after the words had left the Viscount, the black-garbed young man had opened his mouth with a wry smirk, about to genially brush it all off as Halvor getting back at him for all the cheek from the night prior— but had earned a stern warning at the top of his toes from the Mystrel beside him to Shut the hell up, boy. Izayoi's geta were always so persuasive. By the time Eliane spoke up, to congratulate him in spite of detouring her from her family for three whole days behind that impenetrably blank smile of hers, Rudolf had managed to plaster a polite grin over his bafflement and reply with a muted, almost diffident "Thanks, Éliane. This is all pretty overwhelming."
After that, it was Esben who had been called upon to handle further introductions, and Rudolf was bought a moment to sip the crisp and tart sauvignon that had been served and think for a damned second, collect himself again. These days, those seconds seemed to be in ever-shorter supply. So, for the sake of keeping score...
That was one already that he owed this girl across from him for— Lene, her name was. Of all the people he could be suddenly "provisionally betrothed to", the pretty blonde at the other end of the table was Esben's younger sister. What the hell was Vania pulling with this? It certainly explained his guardian's coy reassurances that there was 'something there for both of them', but it had been with a dawning, quiet horror that he'd realized this was more than just a happy little reunion between siblings. Before that, he had weathered her sharp, curious, deep-watered gaze genially, more or less assuming that the scar tissue on the left side of his face was hard to ignore when directly across from you. He could understand the impulse, and blue eyes were nice to look back at anyway. Now...
He tugged at his collar while her eyes drifted along the rest of the Kirins. The damn thing felt stiff as a gorget— he had managed to talk Halvor off the edge of dressing him out completely in Edreni military style, at least— with the way the jacket fit around his frame, he was certain epaulets sized for the bookish ward he'd been sold as would have made for a nightmare to do much more than pose for a portrait in. Still, the customary Red, Black, and Gold made no bones of his heritage— all three being favored by his estranged family even before they had been raised to knighthood.
Now it was his turn to quietly observe, take something like proper measure of somebody the powers that be had seen fit to play matchmaker for him with. In hindsight, it was much more clear that she had known what this was all about coming in— the little laughs, the easy smiles, and of course, the feeling of her eyes settling onto him behind them both, always watching and measuring. The more he reckoned with it, the more he realized that she and her brother, who thankfully seemed about as flabbergasted as he was, operated along similar lines in that respect, despite their presumably very different adolescences.
He was fairly sure that he would have learned by now if Esben had a sister that had enrolled in the Garden after him, for instance. That meant all the signal he was picking up was familial, at the end of the day— the flash in her eyes before her 'chastised-and-demure' routine was all but a dead ringer for something he'd suffered a lifetime's share of in two months.
They look the same when they're making fun of people. So if I can work backwards from there...
He'd caught her appraisal of him in the interstices of the brewing conversation well enough, but now that he wasn't vacantly gawking he noted that there were markedly similar ones snuck Halvor's direction. So, given that the siblings were both saddled with prior understanding of how much of a worrywart the Viscount could be, that meant that she was likely playing some level of crisis mitigation for him, too— at least while he was still hiding behind his genteel facade.
"He's right, Esben," Rudolf piled in, threading the needle between Halvor's scolding and the SEED's put-upon huff with a grin and a gadfly drone. "Bullying me is one thing, but you should take it easy on your family after all this travel."
He did appreciate that, really— for now, just shipping themselves through the opening course without setting off the man breathing down their necks was the course of action to shoot for. Keep things moving, avoid making the mess bigger than it was, and when they had the opportunity, actually come clean about things.
They'd have to handle the meat of what was in front of them a little later, she and he. With the bombshell of arranged marriages suddenly being back on his menu still ringing in his ears, the scarred young man could hardly pull his thoughts about the prospect together— save for that he had a lot of clarifying to do down the road if this was to go anywhere, and that he'd rather do it as quick as possible.
"Really, though."
Even if she weren't the blood of his closest friend, she would still hardly deserve being kept in the dark about the real state of affairs, when it came to the strange northerner she was faced with. Looked a little wrong for a reason. Looked flummoxed for a reason. Traveled with all of these unknown, unheralded faces for a very, very big reason.
"I have to admit, I'm shocked by all this— You say you got my parents to agree to—"
The thunderbolt heel struck the top of his foot again, and it took more willpower than he cared to admit in not grunting or grumbling some invective at the samurai in undertone. But heeding the warning, he maintained his straightest face, and soldiered on, playing it off as a pensive search for terminology. Dammit, wasn't part of this pact of theirs warning him when he was in danger?2
"... foisting their duties onto these two, I suppose would be the phrase for it. My father is a stubborn old gargoyle," he explained, pivoting away from his utter disbelief that the man had anything to do with this arrangement. Their split was sudden and total and five years buried, no matter what Cadmon said about it, to him or to Halvor. "He hates to delegate things, especially when it involves his children. Always been very hands-on, you know how he is."
Slowly, the pressure atop his instep relented, as that had evidently been obtuse enough to satisfy Izayoi's unspoken demands. He wanted to gripe— given that she was evidently informed enough of her field adversaries as to at one point attempt to round up their children a country away, he knew that she probably agreed with his skepticism, at least to a point. It made that element of the charade all the more hollow to uphold.
He cleared his throat, before glancing between his would-be fiancé and the two warriors at his side, favoring her warmly before inclining his head towards them.
"Well, at any rate, we're likewise enchanted, Lene. I do have to admit; your brother, Izayoi-dono, Sir Galahad— the people gathered here, all of them, have been taking good care me during our travels. They keep their eyes on me should I stray, and swiftly correct me when I err. In lieu of my blood, I could hardly ask for better."
This...was not what Izayoi had expected. To her dismay, it seemed their little group's record of unpleasant formal dinners was going unbroken still. She fixed Esben with a hard, unamused stare upon realizing exactly how she'd been seated and why, especially with Galahad. They'd somehow been roped into the southerner equivalent of an omiai, of all the damned things.
At the very least, she wasn't unused to such proceedings. One didn't bodyguard a daimyo for nigh-on a decade without understanding matters of heirs and betrothal. Excluding every other factor, namely their journey and quest taking far more precedence, this was more of a boon than a hindrance to a second, unfavored son such as Rudolf. Perhaps not right now, but should the option remain open, Rudolf would be a fool to simply throw away likely one of his only chances for a decent noble marriage. Esben not opposing the proceedings going on at this moment told her enough.
As such, when she saw Rudolf grin and begin to say something that she knew was going to be idiotic and likely detrimental to the match, Izayoi took it upon herself to drive one of the teeth of her geta into his foot, fixing the boy with a warning stare afterward just to get her point across further. And again, when he started to challenge the insinuation that Istvan Shilage, of all people, would delegate something such as this. Even should it be true, this was not the time.
Regardless, now that Rudolf had said his (least idiotic) piece, Izayoi shared a brief look with Galahad before speaking.
"Lord Halvor, Lady Lene, before we proceed, I will keep this brief. There are extenuating circumstances at play that limit us to only agreeing to a betrothal before anything more binding. Suffice to say, the boy is a skilled and valued man-at-arms in our party, and we would be loathe to agree to a wedding to leave Lady Lene with an empty marriage before departing once more, to say nothing of the fact that we do not have the time for such a thing. Should my words not suffice, know that we have the backing of SEED and the Edrenian royal crown in this matter."
She paused, before speaking once more. This time, a glint could be seen in her eyes to the most observant.
"Regardless, when our quest is finished, rest assured that should we agree upon a betrothal, I will personally ensure that Istvan Shilage gives his full approval to the match."
Istvan Shilage was owed much, after all. The least he could do for throwing his own child out was to account for it.
Esben met Izayoi's stare with a level gaze of his own, before she started to speak. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that she and Galahad were the eldest of their party, after all, followed by Éliane and himself—and he was understandably busy on the other side of the table. Not to mention that he was as surprised as they were, and worse yet, his sister knew it, and she wasn't surprised.
He couldn't deny some misgivings, given the nature of just what was being proposed and some of what he'd both seen and talked about with Rudolf...but he figured that the younger man wouldn't be the sort of baldly lie to Lene's face when something like a possible marriage was on the line, nor did he think she'd be the sort not to pick up on any discrepancies between what had been proposed to their parents and related to her and what actually sat across from her.
What she'd do with it from there would be her own business. What was more important at the immediate moment, as even Lene's eyes widened and she gave the smallest shake of her head at Izayoi—
"Hva?"
—to try and warn her off from surprising Halvor.
"Well, Halvor, we told you we still had to travel out of here, ja?" Esben asked genially, before the viscount had the chance to ask any more questions. "And he told you what we ran into on the road, of course. Lady Izayoi is perhaps over-serious, the same as I'm sure you'd be if it was me we were talking about."
Halvor frowned at him. "He pulls his weight, what can I say? Obviously we all have our business to attend to, it only makes sense to travel together, and besides, you already mentioned that Cadmon told you he'd be continuing on to Solitude with us."
"Well, yes, but..."
"Halvoooor!" Lene but in, turning back to their host with a smile. "Doesn't she sound just like Anders?" The older man just beyond Esben gave her a sideways glance. "Always so serious, like the world could end at any minute? And besides..." Her smile grew warmer yet. "It's so like you to leave in little surprises like this, isn't it? Always something interesting, just like the gifts you send us for our birthday every year!"
"Ah, uncle, sorry I'm late..." Halvor's eyes rose at the timid voice, a bit of strawberry-blonde hair poking in through the doorway. "But I just heard them in the kitchen, Karl had a question for you..."
Halvor, whose confusion was being preyed upon by both of his relatives sat just beside him, looked up with alarm at the freshest entrance. "Oh, Hane, we were just...Karl? The kitchen? Oh, no, don't tell me the oven is acting up again, hold on, I'm coming, I'm coming!" With some hasty apologies, the viscount stood up from the table, following his niece out, before they could hear her quietly chiding him about "getting overly worked up over something once again" as they went down the hall.
Esben breathed a sigh of relief; he had no real wish to lie to his family's own liege lord, but to try and misdirect from Rudolf's situation was difficult enough without everything almost being blown right in front of them. Lene closed her eyes, turning back to the rest of them. "Sorry for that," she apologised to Izayoi.
"It's like I told you all before we got here, Halvor is...very anxious. And it was made clear to the three of us that met with him when we arrived that Cadmon, and possibly Kayliss, have been keeping him under the impression that Rudolf has been here almost this whole time. It's likely better not to break that illusion."
"Indeed. This isn't the sickly, bookish boy that was promised to mother and father at all, is it?" Lene kicked at his foot again. "Hei. How much did you know about all this, and how much are you at liberty to speak of regarding what you're doing?"
"Nothing, and...about Solitude, I'm not. About the rest, I'd prefer not to without mother and father present. Trust that Izayoi doesn't understate the seriousness."
"Theirs is a knightly family, of course. As are the Demets. It only stands to reason that their definition of bookish and sickly should differ from your own." Lene and Esben both looked to Anders, startled at his sudden interjection, only to be met with a simple shrug, as Halvor walked back in.
Esben looked up to meet his eyes, although Halvor was looking down at Anders with an almost grateful expression. "Oh, of course, of course...the rest of you, you all met with the earl and his son, didn't you? Very spirited, that one, or so Cadmon says, but he has stories of his own from when he was younger...yes, I may not have thought to explain that as clearly as I should have, forgive me..."
"I could never be mad at you!" That finally earned a smile back from their host. "Well, if you've been travelling like this, then, you must have some stories, yes? Please, please, tell me about him, and—Halvor, eat something, please, you haven't even touched a slice of bread yet!"
Esben glanced back at Anders for a moment, though the sly old man gave no sign of any reaction to the look, before he turned back towards Galahad and Izayoi. "Ah, should we be nice to him?" he asked, sparing another look over at Rudolf. "Perhaps so, but...I rather liked the time he almost succumbed to the sirens' call, if we're talking about bookish and stories."
Hopefully the rest of them could take the hint and try to spin some of their (mis-)adventures as funny anecdotes, without giving away too much of what actually happened.
Alright, money where your mouth is, Izayoi... Rudolf thought darkly, swiping his own foot into a warning tap against the Samurai's shin in a rare reversal of their punitive dynamic. For as anxiety-riddled as the Viscount was, Rudolf had already experienced firsthand the sharpness of his instincts— and the hair trigger they sat on. Naked bloodlust of the type Izayoi had resurfaced for his father was going to set a land speed record in tripping every alarm in the former SEED's brain1. Never minding the implicit agreement with his skepticism.
In roughly the same time as the opposite half of the table had elected to run their forms of interference, Rudolf mustered an affable chuckle, nodding along as his provisional spouse-to-be said her piece. "Ahahaha, it's true, she's very dramatic— so protective of me, it's like I've found a second mother." he conferred, glancing towards the new entrance that Halvor quickly rose to meet, speeding through his apologies for any potential slight this brought. Okay, good enough— best Rudolf could do was leave him with a final note reassurance as he headed out the door. "I'm sure things won't need to come to that."
The door shut, and they were all afforded a moment to breathe. Telling the whole truth, he had near as much cause to worry about that line as their high-strung host— his estranged family were not a monolith, he knew that, but against the marauding Limbtaker they surely would be. The thought of her roving down to their home provided quite ample concern— even ignoring the man named, there was no chance she'd get to him without first having to cut through he wasn't half as upset with.2
At the second mention of 'sickly and bookish', Rudolf perked up out of his quick dalliance with the realm of the hypothetical, and raised his glass a touch to acknowledge Anders' interjection as Halvor worked the doorknob. The old boy was sharp as a freshly-stoned blade, that much was clear— if it were a better time and place, Rudolf might have asked if his scars were earned in duels or the field proper. He didn't exactly begrudge either answer, these days— but more important was offering some of his own.
"You have the right of it, sir. And I've been hard at work the past five years to try and shed those descriptions of theirs, as well— but they can be quite the gadflies about it."
Exhausting, talking like this, more than he'd bargained for. Part of having Lene across from him that he didn't expect was the different ease with which she seemed to navigate the amelioration, the polite upspeak, the works. The difference between second children that stayed in the family and those that didn't, you could say. He'd thought himself to have maintained a fair majority of his etiquette schooling in the time away from "performing nobility", but once he was out of familiar waters and left stranded far from his favored taciturn, staccato military necessity when it was around unfamiliar people... It was proving not quite as simple as slipping on an old hat.
He blinked, and catching the look, exaggerated his feelings a little once he heard the story Esben was spooling up.
"You rogue, Esben." the burned man accused, letting a small hint of betrayal hang on the end of the vowel as his eyes narrowed to a glare. "Don't bring that up now, Chisato wasn't there for it either— she'll lord this over me for a fortnight!"
Chisato, naturally, had barely spared this entire dinner two words more than she needed. But this part was theater, and every hand on stage could be leveraged.
... He missed Robin.
1. And here we, both of us, foolishly, took her at her word three weeks ago, when she said we'd be mutually ignoring that house, us and them. Her and him. Mom and Dad.
2. Says here that they'd all be stoked to take their swing at her. Maybe, let her do you the favor. You're terrible at this "accepting gifts" thing, it bears repeating.
Shortly after their meeting with Halvor, after Esben, Rudolf, and Éliane had rejoined their fellow Kirins to give them the news—Esben found himself standing around with little to do as the others were shown to their temporary accommodations, settling their things within. Familiar as he already was with the manor, he merely needed to be told which room would be his, and would place his limited things within before dinner. The others might need more time to move their things, change their dress, and the like...
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Galahad, near the start of the hall and already shorn of his armour, that was the first to come back out, his arming doublet and other padded wear replaced with normal clothes. He still smelled a bit of oil, but short of a full bath to remove the last of it that would be unavoidable. ”How strange,” he mused once the dragoon was certainly within earshot. ”I'd started to get used to the sound of metal grinding when you walked past. I won't miss it, but still—funny what a few days can do.”
For a multitude of reasons it would be better by far to have his armour mended, but Esben wouldn't deny that the noise while Galahad still fought to keep moving in it was a personal annoyance. ”Did they already tell you where the bathhouse is, or would you like a guide?”
”It sounds like you're asking me to accompany you to the bathhouse.” Galahad chuckled as he glanced pointedly at Esben. He paused and sniffed himself, frowning. “ Though perhaps you raise a point. Lead on then.”
”Mmm, maybe all Edreni are prone to such flights of fancy,” Esben fired back. ”It seems Rudolf isn’t so unique, after all.” He turned on his heel, beckoning Galahad along. ”How are your ribs? After how that beast tried to roll over on you I’d be surprised if any weren’t broken.”
”Well, they certainly feel broken.” Galahad admitted as he followed along. ”But luckily I'm still walking. And nothing is shifting around, so I suppose that means major bruising and some fractures then.”
Galahad shrugged and immediately regretted it. Esben grimaced sympathetically, despite his own chest being fine. ”Nothing regular applications of white magic won't fix.” He said. ”Though I'm beginning to notice a pattern. I think I broke something after the Leviathan fight too, and then back against the Siren pseudolon I think I tore my leg- though that may have been more of my own doing.”
Galahad laughed mirthlessly as they walked down the hall, remembering the frankly terrible trip. ”Neve certainly gave me an earful about that.”
”Maybe I ought to rethink my choice in occupation.” He sighed.
Esben shrugged in turn. ”I wonder but that most of us may entertain the thought once we're done with this,” he mused. ”But I suppose that's only normal itself—look at Kayliss, Cadmon, maybe. Or Halvor, for that matter.” Each of whom had given of themselves in their own adventures and transitioned to something else once the pressing need was past. Of course, Esben couldn't help but notice that each was dragged back into things when the next crisis arose.
”I suppose the responsibilities are inescapable if you keep any sort of authority, though,” he muttered to himself. Son of a baron speaking to the son of a duke, of course they'd both remain tied to it somehow. ”Neve, though, giving you a talking to? Galahad, you may be a gentleman, but she seemed such a gentle girl. You must have really earned it while I was drowning with Eve.”
”I’ve noticed that medical professionals tend not to like it when you go out of your way to get yourself hurt.” Galahad sighed, ”I suppose you didn’t know her long enough to notice, but she’s the scolding type.” He shrugged, ”Or at least, I think she is. I realize that at this point, I’ve known the rest of you longer than I have her. But she was one of the original Kirins- there were nine of us. Now its just, Izayoi, Eliane and I. Not that that makes us any different.” he added, ”Perhaps it’s just the veteran in me that gets a bit melancholy when the new faces outnumber the old. A few steps forward, and a few steps back, so the saying goes.”
Galahad chuckled ”I make it sound like they’re all dead.
”Perhaps she only scolded you,” Esben supplied, hoping to take Galahad's mind off of contemplating those the team had lost up till then. ”Come to think of it, your ears were rather red the last time I saw you two chatting on the ship. Are you sure it was just scolding?”
”What? What are you talking about?” Galahad shot back a bit too quickly, ”I don’t know what you’re implying, but whatever it is, you’re surely wrong.” Galahad replied with a short huff, ”She’s a comrade in arms, for however short her time with us was. She fought and bled alongside us. She’s a dear friend. Nothing more.”
Esben turned to stare at Galahad. He held his silence for a moment, just long enough to make it clear exactly how little he believed the dragoon's claim, before looking ahead once more. ”This must be what Izayoi felt like,” he muttered cryptically. Whether Galahad had noticed her frustration with Esben, he couldn't even guess—he still wasn’t certain whether or not the others were just politely pretending they hadn’t seen it all.
”Ah, but then you'd be comfortable saying as much were she here, ja?” Of course, where he expected some ribbing from the others, he was just as willing to give it. ”Or perhaps we could see what Wulfric would think of that story when we head back north..?”
”Yes. She is my friend. Nothing more.” Galahad replied. “But if Wulf hears about this, I may start a physical altercation.” He grunted.
”Besides, you're one to start. I see you literally dragging Eliane around with you all the time. The two of you are practically joined at the hip.”
Such a quick denial, and then trying to turn it around as soon as he felt a chance; Esben could respect Galahad's instincts, at least, even if he felt that the dragoon had already given away what he was poking at. ”Do I drag her around? The last I can think where I required her was shortly after we were off Bikke's ship. Much of the rest has been circumstance or her doing.”
He scratched once at the back of his neck, where their samurai had yanked him up and started pulling him along a bit more than a week before. Hopefully she wasn’t about to appear behind the both of them. ”Or Izayoi's, once, though I hardly believe either of us can be blamed for that.”
”Well, half the time I see you, it’s usually both of you. In fact, I expect her to round the corner right-” Galahad paused as they turned a corner and found it empty. ”Ah, well.” Galahad shrugged, almost glad for the shift in subject. ”Has she? Izayoi? As entertaining as the thought of a grown man being dragged around is, I’m more curious as to what you did to spur her ire.” He remarked as he idly rapped a knuckle on a wooden bannister.
”It's hardly the first time I've earned her displeasure,” Esben said, a half-smile growing on his face as he tried not to laugh at Galahad's diversion. ”And it's not like we're all very far from each other most of the time, anyhow. At least I'm sure I've never lit up redder than Wulfric's hair while talking to Elly...Ah, cut through here, that way we won't have to step back outside.”
He paused as they walked down the hall, pushing open a door along the side and ushering Galahad into a small passageway beyond. ”This is technically for the servants to get back and forth for cleaning and storage, but we all use it when the weather is cold enough. And we won't have to worry about a samurai or anyone else catching up to us, either.” He pulled the door shut, turning back to Galahad.
”Be honest with me, Galahad, more than surface level, and I'll do the same, ja? Drana Asnaeu was terrible. Nothing went the way any of us would have preferred, including how it all pieced back together. I was enjoying getting to know Ciradyl and Eve, but we had to say farewell to both. Neve and Robin as well. Not to mention the betrayals, bad news, or the way I kept thinking I'd have to get into a shouting match with Elly over what course we should take regarding the Grovemasters overall.”
He cocked his head to the side, peering closely at Galahad's face. ”Beyond the way it all impacted the group of us—are you really satisfied with the way things sit between you now? Obviously she'll be busy picking up Isolde's slack, not to mention the other duties both of you have to deal with—but if you're just trying to distance yourself and guaranteeing the least favorable result, I'm sure Izayoi will find the chance to call you a ridiculous buffoon as well.”
He smiled mischievously. ”Her words, of course. Not mine.” Galahad rolled his eyes. ”I’m sure Izayoi will find a way to call me such regardless.” he sighed. ”And besides, it is as you say. We both have plenty of duties to deal with. My fondness of someone matters little when we face invasion, death and the end of the world as we know it.” He sighed.
”Things are a mess, and they seem not to be getting better any time soon. If anything, I’m relieved that Drana Asnaeu will have someone capable, kind and competent at the helm. Whatever happens after, will have to be dealt with after. I’ve little time to distract myself with flights of fancy. Distractions cause mistakes, like the one I made with Miina’s arm. I can hardly afford any more.”
”I don't know that I would characterize it as a flight of fancy or a distraction, but I see your point,” Esben replied, avoiding commenting on Miina's arm. ”So long as you're not completely writing it off. Good to keep something in mind for when we've finished, no? Another goal to make sure you want to see past the end of it all.”
He paused.
”Even if that also seems like more of a problem for others on the team, of course. I'm not that worried about where your head's at.” He resumed their short trek down the servants’ hall, pushing through the next door. ”So, the private washrooms are down to the right, spare towels will be stored on the other end. Once you're done in there you can find the larger bath to relax—there's a sauna, too, but you have to go outside for that. Nothing should be hard to find.”
He turned back to Galahad. ”Any questions for me, now? If not, you can ask me in the big bath instead.”
”Fear not, I’ll have plenty to ask,” Galahad sighed as he turned for one of the washrooms, ”Though I wonder how many words I’ll be able to get in.”
There were many reasons why Galahad expected that coming here was necessary. Repairs to their equipment, restocking supplies, perhaps even a foolhardy errand that needed running, or additional information needed for their mission in Skael. Galahad even expected it to be discussed over a stuffy, somewhat awkward dinner. What he did not expect was for this stuffy, somewhat awkward dinner to be about...
Well. This.
He gathered that there was some event when he was provided with a frankly shockingly accurate reproduction of Edren's military dress uniform- though he decided it was better not to think about why Skael might have such a thing so readily available. He did not expect to bear witness to what was effectively a betrothment of one of the Kirins- Rudolf, to Esben's sister. Stranger still was that he and Izayoi of all people were positioned in the place of Rudolf's surrogate parents, at least for this dinner. Esben would find Izayoi's stare matched with Galahad's, equal parts exasperation and... well, mainly just that. "Though I suppose I should feel honored to play the role of Rudolf's guardian... I don't look that old, do I?" He remarked softly.
Still, he forced an easily, almost effortlessly charmed, diplomatic smile as they turned to lighter topics- mainly stories at Rudolf's expense. "Don't be so humble," He said lightly, "Rudolf was quite gallant during that adventure, if I remember correctly, and he spent enough time airbone enough that I thought he might've made a good dragoon as well."
Galahad cleared his throat a bit, "All of that is to say that Rudolf is a very necessary part of our team- a bulwark, among other things. We're lucky to have him alongside us, and I'd be as loathe to relinquish him as I would with any member of our party, at present."
It was bad enough. It was bad enough having to listen to all of this. I'd already used my capabilities as a shinobi to retreat to the most distant seat I could in order to try and evade this nonsense, but it has kept reaching out to me and refusing to allow my escape.
It was bad enough to start with.
But now it has become even worse. Matters of a noble marriage? It's not as if I am unfamiliar with such things, given my history in regards to the assassination of those who called themselves nobility. But is now the time for this? Is now really the time?
Perhaps there is a single silver lining to this matter. To this endurance game that I have found myself challenged by.
Shilage-san was nearly entrapped by a siren?
I should not focus on things simply for their humorous value. And indeed, part of me is pleased that it failed. Regardless of my irritation with the current matters, I do believe Shilage-san is a valuable portion of our team, even if he is a man of Edren. I would not wish to see him come to such an end.
But---
---Ah.
Normally I am more composed.
Normally I am more capable of holding myself back.
Perhaps it is frustration with the current situation?
Ah---
It's embarrassing. I raise my hand to cover my mouth.
Even briefly laughing, so suddenly, was not a suitable reaction.
...
Perhaps I should comment.
"A siren?" I question, placing aside my own mild embarrassment, "That sounds quite harrowing, does it not?"
Speaking for my own amusmenet and curiosity is entirely unnecessary, but if I am to wring anything from this wretched scenario, perhaps it will be this.
… was she supposed to know what that was? She didn't know what any of the things here were called, beyond maybe identifying what some of them were called. And was ‘I don't know’ an acceptable answer? It wasn't like she was trying to be timid or anything, either – he was obviously needing to pay attention to whether this marriage was going to be arranged or whatever was going on – and the stutter never went away.
"Yes?" the redhead eventually settled on, looking cautiously as the soup was finally delivered to its appointed place. At least this only needed a spoon, that was about as easy as you could get for eating, and…
Ah, garlic. Seemingly nothing but garlic, as far as her tastebuds were willing to tell her, and that… right, she could pretend to like it. Just don't show much expression at all, easy, and echo Chisato a little, even though she was there for that whole mess…
"At least he d-d-didn't need rescuing…"
Unlike the spy. And Eve.
Really, the fact none of them had actually drowned was still impressive.
He would have to apologize to Rudolf later, after hearing Chisato laugh. Even if he could consider it a personal victory as well to be one of the first to get the severe little ninja to show a moment of humanity like that. He smoothly ignored Miina's comment, though, as it wouldn't do to let any of the three who weren't acquainted with the party hear of how he'd nearly drowned. "Oh, ja, a Siren," he insisted, nodding vigorously.
Of course, Valheim's attempt to steal away Leviathan's power was no true siren, but as that was the only thing they'd heard to call her...
"He was nice enough to let us know he was going overboard, at least, but I fear if he stays around much longer I'll have to start teaching him how to really handle himself on a boat..."
The dinner proceeded uneventfully from there. The Kirins trading stories back and forth, all carefully edited on the fly to try and keep from giving Viscount Breien anything more to worry about, some others being told at Lene's own expense; there were even a few to Esben's detriment, from his childhood, although thankfully Lene knew nothing of his first years at the Garden and Anders wasn't about to reveal any of them.
Esben always kept a close eye on Éliane when any stories were being told about him, though, just in case she remembered anything from the short time their schooling had overlapped.
Thankfully, for once the topic of the dinner itself was the only major thing for any of them to deal with. No sudden intrusions, no possible assassinations, no sudden attacks by Valheimer airships—even Halvor had seemed to forget himself, joining in with the conversation in visible delight when he got the chance to talk about Esben and Lene as children, alongside what Cadmon had evidently made sure he knew of his 'ward,' comparing their various childhood mishaps.
As the dinner neared its end, though, and those who chose to (or at least, still had the room) were enjoying their dessert, Lene had fallen almost silent. Still listening attentively, responding where it was absolutely necessary and expected, but she wasn't driving the conversation much. Eventually, she dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, setting down her own finished dessert, and turned to their host with a smile.
"Halvor, this isn't quite the young man you were selling my parents on, is he?"
"Lene," Esben protested with a whisper. Halvor, of course, immediately started to sputter. "Well...I...yes, but...Sure, I may not have mentioned everything, but he's still..."
"I expected a sickly boy, and half the stories I've heard of him are travelling about, adventuring, getting up to trouble like you said his other family do. You know, if you had mentioned some of that as well, not just his mind, it might not have needed so much back-and-forth..."
Halvor blinked, fished for words for a moment...finally gave up with a shrug. "Forgive me, vennen min. But, surely this doesn't mean—"
"Of course not," Lene cut him off. "You can't be that bad at this, after all, if our parents are still together. But, lady Izayoi does make a good point, and, to allay her worry some..." At that, she turned back to the samurai. "Yes, a betrothal alone. Halvor is old-fashioned, anyways, I'm sure he'd be aghast if we were to think about anything beyond that so soon." She patted Esben once on the arm, before looking past him at the eldest man at the table.
"Herr Anders?"
"Yes, lady."
"Halvor, I hate to cut things short, but it is getting late, and it sounds as though they'll all need to travel in the morning...May we be excused?" At Halvor's nod, she pushed back from the table, Anders right beside her. "Rudolf, you'll meet with us before breakfast, yes? Esben can show you to our suite."
Esben had to keep from sighing. Him, the insomniac elder brother, and her, always quick to rise. It would be another early morning...
Later that next morning, as the Kirins were ready to depart, Halvor, Lene, and Anders all came out to see them off. Restocked, their wounds seen to by Halvor's own doctor, their equipment repaired as much as possible in the two day span, they were as ready to be on their way as ever. Lene paused for a moment, debating exactly which of the Kirins to go to, before settling on her brother first. One critical eye looked over his cold-weather clothes, tugging at some of the worn holes in his cloak where the constant piercing by the brooch that held it together was taking its obvious toll. "We'll have to replace that," she grumbled, giving him an accusatory glare.
"It'll be fine, Lene, it's just a cloak," he said, pushing her hand back from it. "It'll last me at least until we're done in Skael, probably."
"You'll come by home once you're done in Solitude, won't you?"
"That's up to them, not me."
There was that accusatory glare again. "Be careful, at least," she bid him, turning to Rudolf next. "You as well—no new scars, if you can help it!" She pointed once at the new sword that he carried, easily the same size as his uselessly-enchanted blade, likely older than he was, but clearly well cared for. Anders, for his part, was also keeping a close eye on Rudolf and how he handled it while still within his sight. "And Anders will want you to bring that back! Lady Izayoi, sir Galahad, make sure to hold him to it for me, will you?"
The rest of the meal was rather more to Miina's tastes – at the least, it had things she could more readily identify than the ingredients in a bloody soup – and contributing to the stories wasn't too bad… although, she was sure she'd received more than a few odd looks on giving up entirely on the cutlery that had been provided and just using her good hand. Honestly, what was she expected to do? It wasn't like they were serving anything right out of a fire, too, and she had high heat tolerance…
She didn't remember the end all too well, though. They were keeping Rudolf, she was pretty sure, but there had been a lot of wine and she didn't want to pass it up. This stuff was nice, nothing like the rotgut that she'd grabbed before the invasion of Brightlam.
… which meant she had a splitting headache when they were setting off, of course. Chisato at least was quiet, so getting ready for the trip was fine, but now they were gathering she was just trying to stay a bit apart, make the noise and hubbub a bit more distant. She had everything she needed, anyway. The sword was transformed, obviously, but she'd finally acceded to a rudimentary sling – she hadn't meant to knock over a vase last night, but it was a good idea.
It would also reduce the amount of awkwardly asking strangers to help her with mundane tasks. That was nice.
"Now look what you've done," he groaned theatrically as Chisato took the bait, casting his gaze into the chandelier and pinching the bridge for show. "That day is why Halvor doesn't want me back on a boat— dis it you or Lene I should ask to talk him down from that ledge? Really..." As chuckles, additions to the story, and lightly made-and-countered corrections flew about the table, it seemed they were in the clear for the moment— successfully pivoting away from the worries that he might find his arrangement challenged by those not present— or, as it happened, that those that were would try and sink it so deep he would be left with no recourse but to either abandon the party, or abandon the hard work of his host. "Yes, a Siren is very troubling if you meet them in their territory, even if you're a steady hand with monsters— so, see when I fell overboard, for all my gallantry, I got a fairly comprehensive reminder as to water's relationship with acoustics..."
Saying nothing of whatever wedge that might drive between the lot of them, given that the future Baron Cadon seemed to take little objection with the thought were all presenting a somewhat-united front towards the task of keeping Halvor from thinking he had pitched a complete dud, but if Esben wanted to, he could have done much more to steer the conversation away from the path it had taken. And as for Lene, across from him...
She didn't seem to hate the idea, which came to Rudolf as a bit of a shock. He wasn't the greatest at reading others, and had never quite learned what one of these arrangements looked like, even if he knew about them, but to his eyes it seemed that he was at least an "interesting curiosity" to the young lady. Even if she happily called out the discrepancy between whatever image of him had been foisted onto their family and the...
Kinda fucked up looking dog?
The war-torn, rough-living, kind of fucked up looking dog1 that sat across from her in reality, even if he did clean up passably enough. The night had rolled on in earnest after he'd accepted taking his licks, but with continued courses and continued pairings of wine, Rudolf had found his parts swelling where hers slowly receded, until...
Where Halvor sputtered, Rudolf too suppressed a small urge to flinch, surprising himself— even if it wasn't him that had lead the charge on this deception, he could feel it pulling at the seams, not too different from those nights in Osprey that seemed a year or more past by now. The ones where he could feel the others all waiting for their explanation, after he'd fed them ample evidence contrary to what he'd sold himself as. The Kirins had all very dutifully managed to either avoid or be redirected away from the mammoth in the room with them, and even he'd almost forgotten its tusks poking him in the back until then.
The wine.
It had sanded off those edges where he worried about those things, those concerns existential and ethical, but now it had sanded away some of his reason— not enough to play court fool by any means, but enough, at least, to quietly pull down the careful wall he'd put up at the start of the dinner, holding back those acknowledgements that did him no good moment to moment. It left him wondering, wondering things he had no need to. What did he want from this, when they got out of Halvor's hair? What did he have to offer somebody, beneath each lie, be it little and white or big and black, when they could both dispense with the mutual charade? When this all came down, would he be as lucky to get out unscathed as he had in Edren?
He didn't know. With how sudden it all was, he had no way of knowing. She was a nice girl, he'd learned that much— surely, something genuine was what she deserved, no?2
It was with comparatively little theater that he sighed his relief, a small, quiet thing beneath the breath, as she answered his quiet contemplations with a reassuring smile for the party at large, and the moment of turmoil passed. Even knowing that her prospective betrothed wasn't exactly measuring up to the tall tales Cadmon had spun through Halvor, she was still willing to see where it all went, rather than drop the guillotine on their poor associate's head— and Rudolf's by extension. These things could be forgiven were it the right person, eh?
"Of course," he replied, mustering a polite nod and a smile when her eyes met his for the final time that night. There was no trick in them, nor resentment. Just blue... and the smallest reflection of himself still seated, looking up into it. The light of the chandelier overhead seemed to soak into her blonde hair, framing her look of expectation. "I'll be there. We still have a lot to talk about while we can."
The next morning after the dinner, Esben—awake and moving exceptionally earlier than he would otherwise have liked to be, given that they were at least put up in a decent location and not immediately at risk of any attack or otherwise—left his room, taking the few steps down the hall to the one that had been kept for Rudolf for much of the last half decade, evidently. Weekends spent with Halvor had always been surreal in some way, and the last couple days, whichever point of the week they were actually in, had proven to match such expectations with no trouble. He'd known of Kayliss's association with the Earl Demet and others of Edren's nobility, after all; and he'd known a bit that Halvor himself had some communication with the same. That all that should combine in some way to result in the younger man he'd been travelling with being put forth as a potential marriage option for his younger sister, was...
Shocking didn't quite seem adequate to describe it.
But as he'd figured during the dinner, and as he'd figured for quite some time before, Lene could think for herself, and make her own decisions. Obviously she was aware that there was something going on with Rudolf beyond the stories that Halvor and Cadmon had shared, and no doubt she was going to ask after them, and just what both her brother and provisional-husband-to-be were doing. He highly doubted he had to stress to Rudolf that, if there was any time for honesty, now would be it; he'd rather not drive a rift between them if they were to continue travelling together and relying on each other to stay alive, and something that could read as such an obvious lack of trust would be the perfect thing to put them at odds for the remainder of their journey.
He sighed once, and knocked thrice on the heavy wooden door to Rudolf's room. ”You're awake, ja? We have a bit more than an hour before breakfast, let's go talk with Lene and Anders.”
”Yeah,” a decidedly-groggy-at-the-edges voice sounded through the door, before it opened to reveal the provisional-husband-to-be in question, hair liberated from the slicking back of last night as he rubbed at his temples for a moment. ”Yeah, let’s get into it.”
He stifled a yawn. Ideally, he’d have snagged a cup of coffee to nurse with breakfast after the wine through the dinner and his nightly routine thereafter, but getting the blood moving by marching down the hall would have to serve in its place at this hour. Luckily, he’d already gotten himself most of the way there… at least far enough to talk. He always did rouse quick.
He met Esben with a nod and a thumbs up, motioning for him to lead on, and they started down the way in earnest. Rudolf was dressed much more plainly today, in preparation for the road ahead—simple dark cloth, so much less golden trim.
The trip to the suite Lene had been put up in was a short one, steps Esben still knew well from multiple childhood trips to visit with Halvor. It was the same one that their entire family had often been put up in when they came to visit—indeed, he'd been a little surprised he wasn't put up in it to start with, though with Lene and Anders arriving that made a bit more sense—and he was half convinced he could still pick the lock if he wanted to, just to try and surprise his sister.
With Anders on the other side, though, that was probably a bad idea.
The elder swordsman had evidently been expecting them around that time as well, if not heard them walking down the hall, as he already stood ready with the door open as they rounded the corner. ”Early for both of you, it looks like,” he remarked blandly. ”We have some seats by the fireplace. Come in and get comfortable.”
“You got me. Morning.”
Esben grumbled some sort of half-inaudible reply for being made fun of, leading the way to the sitting room at the center of the suite. Lene was unsurprisingly already well awake, sitting by the fireplace with a glass of water and a book that she'd just closed. ”Good morning!” she greeted them cheerily.
Esben stared flatly.
”You're supposed to say something back, Esben.”
”You know I hate waking up this early if I can help it.”
”Good morning, Lene.” Rudolf dutifully mustered from off to the side, raising a hand. He didn’t much like rising this early if he wasn’t under the sun either, but he had less room to gripe than an elder brother did.
”See, he's a polite boy,” Lene chided her brother, with an approving nod in Rudolf's direction. Anders took a seat near her, and Esben settled into one of his own. ”A dutiful sister wouldn't force her weary brother up at the crack of dawn,” he fired back, and the two shared a wry smile.
”You've questions, I'm sure, though we know about as much about all of this as you do. Probably less, even.”
As the siblings had their bit of banter, Anders peered over at Rudolf where he sat. Before they could keep going, though, he spoke up himself: ”You look like you slept less even than Esben,” he observed bluntly. ”And you have some dirt on your trousers. Been outside already?”
No reason to lie about it now, away from prying eyes.
“I train late in the night. It’s an old habit from the days I spent in Sagramore. I focus better with the day behind me, and it’s time away from questioning.” He blinked, before continuing his explanation. “Not like this, I mean—more regarding the arms I carry. They see a sword you don’t use often, they bug you about why. That kind of thing. After the dinner drew to a close, you can imagine I had a lot on my mind— and a lot of wine in my blood, too.”
He pulled back, as if testing how the cushioned seat held him. Near the hearth like this, he almost worried he could fall asleep again if he wasn’t careful, almost. Unscrambling his own narration, so far, was proving engaging enough. At the foot of his seat, the two Crane Wings leaned against the coffee table. The armament in question, however, was absent. Too big to lug around for a chat.
“I’m the type that turns to movement to settle both, I suppose I’m getting at. Forgive me, I must have stayed out there later than I’d thought.”
”Sagramore?”
”An Edreni town,” Esben explained. ”Proud of their martial tradition. Many of them take up work as mercenaries or itinerant monster-hunters, at least for a time. A bit of a rivalry with the Dragoons, there, though they're less specialized.”
”Hardly the place for a sickly boy.”
”It is if you mean to strengthen him. Crucibles, and all.” Rudolf noted, not exactly challenging the man’s implication.
Lene turned to Anders with an irritated huff. Evidently, she wasn't quite getting what she expected out of their morning conversation, or at least it wasn't going quite how she’d wanted. ”What are you getting at?”
”Only that I have my own duties here,” he replied levelly. ”Both to your family and beyond. Questioning all of this is both.”
Esben took a sip of water himself, as his sister, thoroughly chastised, leaned back in her seat. ”Perhaps we sideline that for now,” he suggested in the silence. ”What else were you hoping to talk about?”
”What have you been doing?” came Lene's second demanding question in the last minute.
”Ah.”
”I haven't seen you since you left for that so-called school, and you were always bad about writing back home anyways—but now, months without anything, and then you randomly show up at Halvor's place where he's supposed to present me the match he's trying to make?!”
She pointed an accusatory finger at both him and Rudolf. ”One who supposedly never left Solitude, one who has supposedly been here for a long while, and then you start telling stories making it sound like you've been galavanting around half the continent! Meanwhile, we hear nothing from you, we reached out to the Garden and got nothing—”
Esben's eyes had started to slide over to watch Anders’ reaction. ”Nothing?” he interrupted, with a small shrug from the old man.
”We were told not to worry, and that we'd be personally informed if anything should change.”
”That's nothing!”
Unfortunate. He hated making his family worry so much. ”Well, that's expected,” he muttered as Lene sat back again, now having thoroughly expressed her displeasure. ”But as I said, without mother and father I would prefer not to get into too much of this...”
He trailed off as he felt Anders’ stare on him. ”In their absence, I am acting in lieu of your parents. I am to veto all of this if I have any misgivings. Speak at whatever liberty you may, both of you.”
The silence that followed was broken this time by a sigh from the younger man across from them.
“Then I’ll cut to the meat of it for my part— Yes, you’re both right. I don’t know what exactly Cadmon has sold me to you as through Halvor, but the story of my warding with him on account of poor constitution exists largely just to explain to public inquiry why I’m never off to the eastern plains of Edren, with the rest of the household. Disease did nearly take me in the crib, I am the weakest of my brothers by a fair margin, slow-learning and unsuited for the family craft,”
He took a deep breath, and for a moment, looked between the three seated around this little table. Esben in search of unspoken guidance, but between Anders and Lene it seemed to be an attempt to decide between them.
He chose the young lady as he leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting upon his knees and hands clasping one another. The one this concerned more than anyone else. He continued on, even-toned as he could manage, intent on leaving as little out as he could. Having already broken this dam once, he noticed how much more easily the words came this time. Still uncomfortable, still bitter, but he could look his audience in the eye.
“But the truth of it is…Internally, I’m in effect persona no grata. My family and I had a severe falling out when my father and brother returned from the war with Osprey—the swordsman village is where I spent those five years I was supposed to be here. I’ve not lived as the second son of anyone in that time. Cadmon had told me that he was working behind the scenes on something relating to what was to become of me in the wake of this informal exile, but I hardly expected it to be a betrothal arrangement. It’s turned into a hell of a mess now— One you don’t deserve to get wrapped up in this way. Before anything else: I’m really sorry for the deception.”
Lene looked to Anders, and then to Esben. Esben shrugged; that was truth enough, he figured. Little need yet to get into just why the falling-out had happened. ”We met when I was travelling north, to Osprey. Earl Demet had sent him along for much the same reason.”
”Explains the lady commander.”
”Do you know everybody from Solitude?” Lene cut in peevishly at Anders.
”Perhaps. Continue.”
”Simple enough from there. We fell in with the others of this group and have stuck with them since. None of what we told last night was an outright fabrication, other than having Rudolf continue with the story that he's been staying as Halvor's ward for significantly longer than actuality.”
So that was how much they were going to relay of the king’s dispatch, then. He’d been avoiding the subject in part to focus on his story, but also to sort of kick the buck over to the older Kirin, whose operational security concerns were now the weightier of the two.
“I could tell you both caught how surprised we were as to the reason for our being here,” he admitted. “Until then, we were just trying to keep the Viscount from worrying his head off, I believe Cadmon put it to me. I hope he feels safe mentioning that he’s let me go off to Solitude, now that he’s got proof I didn’t go missing en route at fourteen and die in the wilderness. The man needs a break.”
He frowned after that, before glancing sidelong towards Esben, unsure of what to say next. Everything so sparse and boilerplate as he’d left it… it’d hardly assuage worries.
“Is there nothing more we can give them? I understand information security, but…”
”What were you doing in Osprey?”
Esben frowned. Clearly, he couldn't give direct details of his original assignment, even to family. Ingratiating himself with the Kirins by giving the broad strokes was pushing it close enough. Anders may have been another SEED, likely still was, even if he was ostensibly ‘retired and only doing teaching sometimes,’ but that was still playing fast and loose with the rules. The amended assignment as of Drana Asnaeu, however...
”Valheim is invading. This is hardly news, nor that Osprey has fallen. They attacked Drana Asnaeu recently, which I'm sure has started to filter its way out here, but it was repelled. We've been busy stymieing some of their advance work, or trying to help begin a resistance, depending where you look.” Obviously, it was no secret to anybody in Skael with any semblance of an education just what the Garden and SEED got up to. The roving mercenary groups were just the most visible face of it all, especially beyond Skael's borders. All the same, Lene paled at the implications of just what her brother had been facing on a regular basis.
”As befits the son of a knightly family,” Anders observed, a similar statement to what he'd made the night before. ”I believe that is enough on that front. Any noble family should understand secrets, yes?”
Esben had half a thought that Anders was making fun of the Cadons’ well-known penchant towards complete truthfulness. Lene squinted at him as well. Utterly unbothered by their looks, he continued: ”You've grown hard, boy. Not the soft one you were the last time I saw you. Travel will do that. He looks tougher yet, even if he's a long way from matching that samurai.” His own impenetrable gaze fell on Rudolf for a long moment.
”Your family. This falling out...last night, you were surprised at the implication your father may have agreed to any of this. In spite of that, it seems.”
“I am of the belief that, beyond whatever responses he has to the Earl’s updates, he has washed his hands of me completely. From the sounds of things, age has seen him grow no less stubborn now as he was when he threw me out.” Rudolf responded, dead-eyed in his stare as he met that implacable look of the old man’s. “After sleeping on it, maybe he may have agreed to the whole thing enough for Cadmon to send it… but to express this as blunt as he would, that agreement most likely would have been ‘Sure, whatever’.”
”Isn't his family a merchant one as well?” Lene asked, frowning. ”The Demets. Noble, certainly, but from what you told me, Anders, of what father told you, of what Halvor told him, he's...”
She was obviously fishing for the right way to say what she was meaning.
”Shrewd? A hard bargainer?”
“A two faced piece of shit?”
”Rudolf.” Her disapproval was clear by the glare shot his way.
”You’ll understand when you meet him. He likes twisting his own words around so much you can hardly see straight, let alone those of the people he keeps contact with. I love him, but I might be the only person in the world he spares laconia on.”
”Is he unfair, though? Would you, knowing him personally, call him unfair?”
There was a beat that hung in the air.
”Yeah? Not in the way it sounds like you mean, but… yes, often, to his face.”
”...” Lene blinked, once, twice. ”Hva?”
Esben coughed. ”Ah, Rudolf, I think what she means to ask is...Does he mean well? Halvor certainly seems to think so, if he decided to play this game. And it certainly seems like Izayoi expects you to make good on this and to contribute, if need be, and I don't think she'd do so if she didn't see something to trust in it, no?”
…
His eyes fell, studying the carpet.
“He took me in when he had no cause to, in that small way, after everything had happened. My actions had harmed his household as well as my own, but he still pointed me towards a place within his domain I could lay my head, collect myself, and further some kind of learning. He’s kept written correspondence with me as if I never ceased my squiredom beneath him, for no benefit of his own, just guiding me from afar.”
A rueful look graced the carpet, but not a cold one.
“The King’s call to arms was doubtless meant for Cadmon’s firstborn, Wulfric… but he sent it to me, instead. If nothing else, I’ve grown more thanks to that than I ever would have staying there. I probably wouldn’t be here to discuss this arrangement at all.”
His face rose, and he nodded. “He has always meant well. Even if we gripe at each other for kicks.”
”You trust him?” Anders asked, as Lene fell silent after Rudolf's slow response. Esben nodded once, decisively. ”With my life, and multiple times over. Galahad and Izayoi weren't lying when they said we can ill afford to lose him. He may not always make the best decisions, but he's still a work in progress.”
Anders raised an eyebrow, before looking out the window. A window with a great view, unsurprisingly, of where Rudolf had been training the night before. ”We'll hold you to that, then,” he stated, before looking at Rudolf. ”You—that oversized sword you have. You know what it's used for, or is it just something you have to practice with?”
“Protection,” Rudolf replied as though by reflex, sure of it as anything. Anders gave a single nod of approval. “Montantes in particular are favored among bodyguards, for their ability to fend off multiple attackers at once, denying a large space around the wielder or their charge. In formation, mercenary companies in Edren have seen ample use of them both in supplementation and as a counter to pike formations, but I’m rustier when it comes to unit tactics.”
He thought he had imagined it, the feeling of eyes upon him that night—that it was just his nerves, acting up as they always did.
”A bookish answer.”
”That nod was as much as I ever got, and faster, too,” Esben half-complained. Mostly a joke, but he had to express a bit of annoyance at Anders for it.
Lene kicked him once, turning back to Anders. ”What's that about? He seems honest enough to me, and beyond that, we trust Halvor, Halvor trusts the Earl Demet, and he trusts the earl too. There are complications, certainly, but now that we know what's going on...” She turned to Rudolf once, putting on her sternest expression. ”No new scars like that one, understood? And don't let my brother get any more either.”
Cute.
”A moment, if you would. I won't refuse this just yet, that I will leave to your parents, but I have my own stipulations to place on this if I am to give them any recommendation.” Without waiting for any actual permission from them, he stood, walking to his own room, where he began to rummage with something.
Esben listened for a moment, before turning back to Lene. ”How much did you two bring?” She rolled her eyes. ”You know how he is, nothing is ever good enough. He refuses to go anywhere with just his bags.”
“He reminds me of Balder,” Rudolf murmured, finally allowing himself to sit back a little. “Unflappable no matter what you throw at him. Balder, and maybe one of the older knights that serve Cadmon through the Marches.”
Anders stepped back in at that moment, something long and tightly wrapped in a silken bag resting in his hands. At least five feet long, something far larger than what Esben or Lene had ever actually seen him working with. ”Don’t get the wrong idea of this. I will leave it to the earl or his son to determine when your squiring is done,” he cautioned, undoing the tie that held the bag closed and pulling its contents out.
A sword, wooden grip partially wrapped with wire, easily a third or more the length of the blade itself. Quillons curved upwards towards the point, a faceted pommel opposite them at the other end of the grip. As he pulled off the sheathe, a long ricasso and an awl-like edged section revealed themselves of the blade, firelight dancing along the polished length.
Rudolf rose in his seat.
”It's likely heavier than the one you have already, unless you're stronger than I'd guess. But Halvor mentioned something of that one to me, as well, when I woke him last night.” He glanced at the two Cadon heirs seated next to the fireplace. ”Esben says he trusts you with his life. One of my duties to this family is to watch over their children, and when they are so separate, clearly I cannot do that. Lene seems willing to put aside her reservations in return for your telling of things this morning. If I am to do the same, I need you to promise me one thing in return.”
Lene moved to protest, but Esben reached out a hand, pulling her back into her chair and shushing her immediately. ”It'll be important to Rudi,” he whispered. ”Don't interrupt.”
Rudolf, sure enough, was unaware of their interplay, all but lost in the steel. Anders was right, he could tell it would be heavier in his grip than the cross he bore at a glance alone, but beyond that…
“That… Words fail me, Sir. Name your demand, I don’t think I could believe this as a gift alone.”
”Because it is no gift at all,” Anders interrupted Rudolf. ”I expect as long as you carry this sword you'll remember what I'm telling you today. I can't ask that you defend Esben with your life, though from the way you carry yourself I've little doubt that you would. But in return for my good word to Matthias and Ada, I need you to swear that you will defend him up to that point, and should it prove necessary, that you be willing to sacrifice your own honor to guarantee his and your safe passage from any hopeless combat. Moreover, should this arrangement stand after you meet with them—I need your word that if our places are ever reversed, or should we stand shoulder to shoulder, you will do the same and more. What say you?”
Rudolf’s jaw worked, wide eyed and dumbfounded.
“Aye. I’ve always held honor as the refuge of the strong… I can scuttle it if it means seeing us home.” He breathed, fighting his urge to kneel— the man had just told him he had no bearing on his squiredom… and if his suspicions were correct, that was not said out of inability. “Esben is already a brother to me, in all but blood. By the fire Himstus sparks within me, I will protect him as such.”
”And the rest?”
Putting aside the matter of how little he knew, when you got right down to it, of how on board he was with this arrangement so soon…
When he thought of it, he thought of if he could say the same of Suzume, had she survived. Of the Laruelle family, who he time and again had wished he wasn’t keeping Elly from. Of even Robin’s ‘father’, who had broken rank and stolen away the very night of the plague that had fallen upon him.
“Of course. Whether they approve of Lene and I in the end or not… Esben’s family would be safe as I could keep them.”
Anders nodded, and held the sword to him, hilt first. ”Then, in the name of the Mother and her House, I charge you with this blade and the duty it represents. Keep your vow and return the blade to me, or have it returned to me if elsewise is unavoidable, or else hide your face from the world and abandon any hope of knighthood yourself. Swear it.”
Rudolf’s eyes narrowed, filling with steel. His scar caught the heat of the fireplace, feeling alight again. He reached forward, gingerly, but surely.
”I’m sick of hiding. I swear it.”
Anders released the blade, allowing Rudolf to take it in his hands. ”Good.” He looked to the pair still seated. ”That settles this conversation, then. Breakfast will begin before long and all three of you need to get cleaned up a bit.”
”I am hardly—” Esben pulled her down again, and she shot a sullen look his way. ”Your hair is still a little messy, and I know you wouldn't let yourself get caught at the table without fixing it,” he observed.
Honestly, as always. ”And none of us want you fretting over it and rushing yourself. We'll find time to come see you after we’re done with what we need to do here in Skael, I hope. Rudolf, shall we?”
“A moment,” he negotiated, finally freeing himself from the urge to test the caliber of his new recruit— as much as one could in the confines of a room. “Admittedly, after accepting the task I just have, this feels like it rings hollow. But…”
He reached down, the greatsword resting in its sheath, and produced his two companions picked up in Drana Asnaeu, holding them up for Anders and Lene to see. “When I heard that we were likely due at least one more meeting, I got it in my head that I should promise I would return for it with more than just words.”
Ah, dammit, it did feel embarrassing, following that up with this half-baked idea.
But… in for a gil, in for the goose… he’d already started it up.
“I picked these up in Drana Asnaeu. They served me well in that time. A local style of blade, suited well for the brush, and as it happened, the Valheimr we faced there. They’re called Crane’s Wings, if either of you are familiar..?”
”More than you likely know.”
A thick sigh of relief, letting out more tension than it may have looked he had
“Oh, thank Imir, that makes this easier.” he breathed, before thrusting the rightward blade forth, towards his provisional fiancée. “The legend attached to them states they must always be paired, returning to each other swiftly when parted. They bring good fortune when they are.”
”Huuuuh?” Lene seemed clearly at a loss for words with what was being presented to her. ”Take it, Lene,” Esben prodded. She reached up, gingerly taking it in hand. Unlike everybody else in the room, it was clear she had never even handled a sword, and seemed to expect it to be much heavier than it actually was. ”Safekeeping, then...Be quick about it, will you? The longer you're both away, now I'll have two people I have to worry about for not hearing from them.”
Rudolf had managed to stop quietly looking like he wanted to crawl under something and die by the time she met his eyes again, once she put the pieces together. The laughter in his head was all but deafening.
Instead he smirked, nudging Esben with his elbow.
“Don’t worry. Push comes to shove, I’m better about writing in than it sounds like this guy is.”
Esben rolled his eyes. Lene glared at him, before turning back to Rudolf, meeting his smirk with a gentle smile. ”Well, you'll just have to make up for where he lacks, won't you? Consider that my addition to everything Herr Anders put on you today.”
Rudolf chuckled, before playing along with an Edreni salute and a half bow. “I solemnly swear it, Milady. I just hope you like sketches to go with.”
She raised an eyebrow. ”I'll have to hope you're good,” she replied with a nod. Esben stood up, patting his sister on the shoulder. ”I'll make sure he knows where to send everything, at least,” he promised, Lene sticking her tongue out at him in return. ”Now, shall we?”
”Let’s. If I had any more of these lined up I don’t think I’d make it through them.” Rudolf joked. Esben nodded, and with the four of them saying their (very temporary) farewells, led the way as he and Rudolf left the suite, Anders shutting the door behind them.
Once they were safely beyond earshot, though, he turned, whispering conspiratorially at the shorter man: ”Giving her a sword to seal the vow? Didn't you tell me once that that's basically a Sagramori proposal?”
Rudolf kept walking, silent as the crypt, but paled about four shades as the realization hit him in turn.
”I thought this wasn't supposed to be at the official-contracts stage, yet.”
“Shut up shut up shut up neither of you chuckleheads stopped me shut up I wasn’t thinking of it shut up”
He was adjusting, more or less, to the newfound distribution of weight on his person— lighter at the hip, as one of his wings now roosted with the young lady calling upon him— a promise beyond flowered words of sure return. Heavier at the back, where her loyal retainer had parted with one of his family's finest, to empower him as he set forth. Finally, a sword most suited to the training he had favored since boyhood that bore no curse. Even if it wouldn't do to completely show it, part of him was just about over the moon.
"I don't know, milady," he hedged in good humor, glancing back over his shoulder to eye the long hilt, the hefty pommel. Despite not quite matching the infuriatingly clear exemplar of swordsmithing that it replaced, it was a handsome sword nonetheless, and its surer weight and fuller response had felt a hard-earned relief in his hands, for the few practice swings he had been allowed. It fought him a little, compared to the ghost of a blade wrapped up in Goug's cart— but taming it meant it would cut sure and true. "I may come to like it so much they'll have to fight me to get it back to him."
Anders, of course, wasn't going to budge even if he mistook that for provocation— just calmly keeping an eye, all the while, on the errant vagrant that his charge had been matched with. He probably would have gotten on well with Balder— both old hands at handling cheeky upstarts with unruffled feathers. The words the two had exchanged earlier that morning were all too solemn for anything else. Whatever it was he had seen, beneath the shell Rudolf was so cognizant of... he had found worthy enough.
He allowed himself a brief chuckle. "We can handle it when we next meet. Keeping safe's the plan until then.3 Always is— We'll all be keeping an eye on eachother. And Halvor!"
He called across the way, a little closer to the gate— where the haggard blonde lord stood quietly by, content to let the two lovebirds jaw at eachother now that he'd done what he could for them. Rudolf shifted the weight of the sword's harness on his shoulder, before favoring him with an apologetic, but altogether warm grin. One of relent, just as he'd worn in the man's study two nights back.
"I've given you a lot of grief these past five years running off all the time, haven't I? Wayward, distant, impossible to keep up with. Acting like I don't even know myself, right?" he intoned guilelessly, before bowing his head. Like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders— and would soon lift off the older man's. "I'm sorry to always cause you trouble like this. Thank you for putting up with me."4
1. Damn, I didn't think he'd actually use it. You know how ironic this is, coming from me?
2. No, you're to supposed to say it's you that wants the G E N U I N E . You're fucking this quote up; just pull back on the reins, this is a tragedy waiting to happen and I no longer find it funny. I'm blaring Izayoi telling you to "lock in" in the back of your head until you get the idea.
3. Famous last words.
4. Raise so many flags we can't knock them all down quick enough, sure.
That morning, Izayoi stood in the courtyard, fixing two new materia into her kote: Cure and Magnify. Hopefully, this would allow the burden of healing to be spread out beyond only Miina. Without Neve, the white magic situation very likely wasn't changing for the foreseeable future. Adjustments had to be made.
With all of that finished, Izayoi allowed Rudolf and Esben to say their goodbyes, nodding politely in return to Lene as she made her request. The boy received a new sword from them, eh? That was something, at least. Thankfully, the girl seemed to be more than receptive to the idea of a potential match. The idea of keeping Halvor continously in the dark as to Rudolf's status continued to strike her as buffoonish, but that was something that would only backfire on the ones who perpetuated the lie.
"I will endeavour to keep both your brother and your intended safe as best I can." She responded calmly to Lene. Though after a moment, a thought came to her. "Before we leave, Lady Lene, a word in private, if you would?" She gestured over towards the edge of the courtyard, well out of hearing of the others.
Without waiting for a response, Izayoi made her way over and awaited for Lene to catch up. When she did, the older woman spoke in a low, calm tone.
"This is likely advice that could be saved for a more permanent agreement in the future, but I may not still be present to give it in that time. Such is the reality of life on the battlefield. Regardless," She continued on, fixing Lene with a stare.
"I was a high lord's retainer for a decade. Regardless of nation, I should think I've seen enough of highborn marriage to understand the realities of it. Neither of you chose this, but should the match be fulfilled, I would implore you to give the boy some grace. He is a good man, and as someone who has been wed before, I can tell that he will at least make his very best attempt to provide a good marriage from his end of things. So long as he is reciprocated in kind, of course. 'Tis all. By your leave, Lady Lene." A quick, curt bow, and Izayoi returned to the Kirins, stubbornly silent as to what she spoke to Lene with.
Unlike the other dinners at noble houses, Éliane ended up not running her mouth as much here, both in respect to Esben and his family and mostly because this was the first time she’d had a proper Skaelan feast since setting out on her journey. After speaking her bit, she’d made her interest in the food bare as she heaped copious servings of poultry, beef, and especially gravy onto her plate, enough to make a girl fat if she wasn’t as active as the pink-haired officer.
She still told a few stories, and was polite enough to not be chewing through her food while telling them. She was raised properly, after all. They did come mildly at the expense of Rudolf and Esben, though, including the time that Rudolf acted as a cushion for her in combat… and a half-finished, obviously made up story about Esben while schooling that ended up being interrupted by the timely arrival of desserts, pastries, and most importantly, the after-meal coffee.
Even in a Skaelan noble house, the dessert would never be up to her own standards, although Éliane was perfectly content with her caffeinated beverages.
The rest of the evening and night proceeded uneventfully, and the morning afterwards, she found herself in the courtyard together with the rest of the party after saying her own farewells to their host and Esben’s family. With the extra downtime, she’d found some time to clean up her uniform properly, and together with her refinished equipment, Éliane looked nearly fit for parade, with everything working properly for the first time in months.
She wasn’t the only one with new or refurbished kit, but Éliane had to raise her eyebrows when she noticed Lene with a new sword, and a familiar one at that. She chuckled in a good-natured manner. “Ooh, very romantic. Very Rudolf.” Pausing, she nodded at herself and then Lene, before continuing. “It’s a shame we weren’t able to speak much last night… the food was very good. I’m sure you’ll be worried about Esben and Rudolf both, now, but on my honor as dame commander, I intend to keep them both hale and whole if I have anything to say about it.”
Lene glanced back at Anders once, before following along beside Izayoi at his nod. She was left (rather understandably) without much to say in response, though luckily for her and Izayoi both the samurai didn't give her a chance to respond before returning to the rest of the Kirins. Esben had stepped aside to chat with Anders while she was pulled along, so she couldn't follow it with more browbeating her older brother to take care of himself and try to communicate with his family more often. That left another moment before Éliane stepped up, pledging on her honor that she would also keep watch over the two young men that she was worried about.
That, at least, provided her a chance to return to form. "Oh, is that so?" she murmured, with raised eyebrow and a small smile. She'd been left wondering just where the dame commander's story about her brother was going, but after catching how often Esben was glancing back at her, and now hearing this spontaneous pledge to see to his and her just-about-betrothed's health...
"Well, I'll just have to entrust you with their safe keeping, then. I'm sure my brother will appreciate having you at his side, hmm?"
She glanced at Esben, after replying just quiet enough she was certain he wouldn't hear. He caught her glance, looked back with a raised eyebrow, and she waved him off. "Don't be too good to him, though, I'm sure he deserves more than I've been able to catch up with just now!"
There was something dangerous about having those two together, Esben could feel it in his bones. Especially talking about both himself and Rudolf. "Don't take too long now," he called out to Lene and Éliane, before turning to Anders himself. "Herr Anders, a request for you, if you would."
"Young master?"
"You remember old professor Villamont, don't you? Do you remember any of his students—say, any that were a head or more taller than me?" Anders frowned at him. He didn't expect an immediate response, anyways; his family's loyal retainer—and sometimes-spy, sometimes-Garden instructor—wasn't the sort to answer off the cuff if he wasn't entirely certain of his answer. "Well, if you do remember anything, make sure to write it down, let us know when we see you again. I'll likely ask after it if I can get ahold of any of the others at the Garden, too."
"As you wish," Anders replied, with a sidelong glance towards Izayoi. No surprise there; traveling with a samurai, asking after an older fencing instructor that liked to use Ospreyan blades, it was inevitable he would start trying to piece together what Esben might actually be getting at.
He patted his old tutor on the arm, walking back to the rest of the group. It was nearly time that they should all be off.
At that, Éliane gave her a mischievous grin and a thumbs-up. "You won't have to worry about that either! You should see how exasperated he gets over some of the things I do!" Mutual understanding quickly established, with another smile and a wave, she returned towards Esben and the rest of the group after that, a perfectly innocent expression on her face just for Esben.
