There came a point where the pursuit of privacy ironically attracted more attention to oneself rather than less. It occurred to Auberon he had crossed that threshold a while ago as he navigated the walkway of one of the monastery’s outer walls. The idea had been solid; no one would be around aside from the occasional guardsman on patrol, and it was far enough away from everything that there was no chance of eavesdroppers. He hadn’t considered that hiking out along the walls at the cusp of nightfall to whisper about politics undisturbed would look suspicious as hell to anyone that witnessed the act, and would thus incite further curiosity.
Too late to change it now, he supposed, as he leaned on the parapet and gazed down the path he’d arrived from. Inviting Kellen and Lienna had been simple and unintrusive—he’d found himself hovering around one Lion or another ever since their return from Luin, if only to make sure they had recovered alright—from there, tracking them down to pass an invitation (read: order) to meet on the western ramparts at seven o’ clock was hardly a challenge. At least, that was under the assumption Lienna didn’t blow him off.
Kellen was nothing if not dutiful. The brown-haired Fraldarius could be spotted all-but-running towards the designated meeting location, a small piece of parchment with scant writing clutched in one hand while the other occupied itself by resting on his sword every few seconds. A passing student, if not already alarmed by this conspiratorial posture, would likely be further shocked to see the Fraldarius out of his room after classes.
As he approached the designated meeting point, he spotted Auberon, and hastily shoved the letter into a pocket.
“Hello!” His voice came out louder than he had intended.
“Sorry.” He stood awkwardly. They could launch into the subject immediately, but he was afraid to start without Lienna. Or perhaps he merely wanted a witness for whatever issue Auberon had identified. His House Leader rarely had issues expressing his concerns in front of everyone, which is why the sudden attention for discretion was worrying.
“So… The Aegir Twins and Raimund are just… gone?” He tried to conceal the wistfulness in his voice.
It was springtime in the valley, but it seemed Lienna overestimated the heat of the south; the air still got surprisingly chilly in the evening, even more so high up on the parapets and unsheltered from the wind. Still, she took her sweet time walking, having untied the scarf from her waist to clutch it around her shoulders instead, not that the gossamer fabric did any good. She’d have to go rooting through all that new luggage of hers for something warmer.
But aside from lingering in patches of the setting sun, she was still in no hurry. Honestly, it was a miracle she was on her way at all; a meeting with Auberon, especially one so oddly shrouded in secrecy, wasn’t her idea of a fun evening—especially with so much on her mind after her meeting with Professor Tomai. Auberon's brusque explanation had simply been “politics”, but she still suspected it would devolve into a dressing-down over staying behind back in Luin. Hells, she’d been waiting for him to bring it up ever since that icy look he’d shot her as he loaded into the carriage on his way to doom.
But if there was one thing keeping her moving toward an inevitably hostile conversation, it was the folded piece of parchment tucked into her belt. A letter had arrived from her fiancé shortly after their return from Luin, though that was about the extent she knew about it. The seal was his, but his infuriatingly loopy writing was impossible to make out beyond the simplest of small words. It was fairly long, which led Lienna to believe it must have been vaguely important, not to mention the fact that the only other correspondence she’d ever received from him were the terms of their marriage and the bill of debt for the Academy. She was more than a little spooked by all that strangeness earlier, a fear marauding in the back of her mind that the letter might signal a sudden discovery that the Deacon's reading was wrong and that her Crest was unsuitable for their arrangement, but without being able to verify it herself, she tried not to jump to conclusions. Maybe it was nothing of the sort, and Auberon’s mystery meeting had something to do with it; or maybe, at the very least, she might be able to track down Kellen afterward and have him read the letter for her.
Not keen to give her uncertainty away, she reminded herself to straighten her posture, catching the end of Kellen’s sentence as she approached.
“I hope we’re not here to talk about them,” she commented absently, looking between her housemates, although she immediately regretted opening her mouth. Man, it didn’t seem to matter how many times she reminded herself she was here to make
connections, did it? Scolding herself, she crossed her arms, trying her hand at a greeting instead.
“Good evening Kellen, Auberon. What’s this about?”“Likewise,” Auberon responded to Lienna’s greeting, though he didn’t answer her question quite yet, and instead turned his head back to Kellen.
“Evidently. Why, were you friends with one of them?” Personally, he found Raimund even more distasteful than Jorah, barely even noticed Saskia existed, and found Valerian only as interesting as his challenges against Michail. Then again, he’d caught Kellen talking to an
Eagle of all things that one time, so evidently the Fraldarius had strange methods of socializing.
Kellen looked to Lienna.
“Hi.” They hadn’t really spoken since he had gone off to the horrible village. Not that he had made great efforts to speak to anyone.
“No, or at least, I don’t think so? It’s just… worrying, is all. We’ve hardly been here a week.”“And already been set upon by raving lunatics and raiders,” Lienna added, quirking an incredulous brow at Kellen.
“It’s hardly surprising. If nobles want their children dead, I’m sure there are plenty of assassins in their home countries who could do the job for cheaper.”Kellen chin tilted downwards, his eyes carrying a tinge of remorse. Lienna had been alone in facing a group of bandits, or may as well have been based on the story Veronica had regaled the caravan with on the trip home. He didn’t want to think about that.
“What’re we here for?” It was an earnest question, not a rebuke. His hand drifted over the pocket where his letter sat.
Auberon hardly reacted to Lienna’s appraisal of the situation. He would’ve said the same thing himself, honestly. How to broach the topic at hand, though; that was tricky. He’d been somewhat needlessly secretive so far, so asking vague questions would probably cause undue worry. Might as well come right out with it and ask whatever inane curiosities he had about his Housemates later.
“To gossip about the precarious state of the Kingdom like bored handmaidens,” He finally answered,
“Word around the noble courts is that the royal bastard is in attendance at Garreg Mach on behalf of House Charon. I’m admittedly not too familiar with the Lions past you two and Derec, so I figured I’d ask if you know anyone sponsored by the Charons and how you think we should proceed with this.” The boy paused for a minute, his eyes gliding back and forth across both their faces, obviously in thought. His pondering ended with momentary hesitation quite clearly written in his features before he cleared it with a shake of his head.
“Also, I just wanted to make sure you were both holding up okay after the other day.”Most of what Auberon said listed past Lienna’s ears meaninglessly, though his hesitation was enough to get her attention, and his admission outright surprising. She was well accustomed to Disappointed Preacher Auberon, but Concerned House Leader Auberon was a new face she wasn’t sure how to interpret. She’d brush it off as just another bullet point on his list of House Leader chores that needed checking, but the look on his face didn’t lie. Could it be he was realizing the gravity of what he’d rushed into the other day?
Lienna wanted to return his concern with sarcasm, but she couldn’t quite make the words cross her lips. She remembered plain as day the pallid tone of Kellen’s face when her classmates finally limped their way back to the caravan—and that was even before the poor boy laid eyes on a garden of impaled bandits when they arrived. Auberon had hardly looked unshaken either, though the remnants of passion in his eyes when he came back remained of concern to her, whatever it meant. But despite a lifetime of bloodshed and bodies to reflect on at night—and the strange normalcy, in her mind, of what happened at Luin—she couldn’t pretend that the twisted, broken spines of bandits and blood-covered ice didn’t haunt her dreams of late.
“Well, the future Princess Consort is probably painting a target on my back as we speak, but so far, so good,” she tried to joke, though it was clear from her hollow tone that her heart wasn’t in it. Clearing her throat, she continued quickly,
“But I’ll admit, I’m not really familiar with House Charon. I have no idea who might be here under their banner.”As Auberon mentioned the bastard, Kellen's hand fished out the letter from his pocket.
"My father wrote. And he said something similar. Doesn't appear as though he has any more info than you, though." The thought brought an unexpected spark of joy to Kellen. In fact, beyond a similar detailing of a Charon sponsored boy and a request for Kellen to provide any information he might have, his father had written little, as the mostly empty page attested. He tucked the letter back into his pocket as a wave of self-consciousness overtook him.
He wasn’t expecting the display of concern from Auberon, though he had noticed that his House Leader had taken some care to give Kellen space following the aftermath of the battle.
"I'm. Um. Fine. It’s good that everyone is okay." He had learned that if he followed up a lie with a truth, it made the whole thing halfway convincing. His gaze turned past the ramparts to the rocky landscape beyond. It took him a few moments before he could turn back to his classmates. Lienna’s joke brought a bit of a warmth back to his face.
"I, um. I don’t know much about the other Lions. But I think we would know by now who they were if they wanted us to, though. I mean, they’d have said something.” Despite the efforts to get the words out, he thought this conclusion was reasonable.
The corner of Auberon’s mouth quirked downward in the barest hint of a frown at their answers. They weren’t
bad responses, but they were too halfhearted for his comfort. Still, he couldn’t blame them; he’d probably respond in a similar manner if asked. Their ideas about the bastard were even less encouraging, though they were also not unexpected. Of course the fool would go into hiding, he’d be skinned alive by the first patriot that crossed his path otherwise. Rather telling that the would-be usurper was a coward, though, regardless of the logic behind it.
“Alright, well, the cathedral’s open if you ever find yourself… you know, not okay,” The blond added lamely,
“You know where to find me too, for what it’s worth.” Probably little, given the way he had floundered his way through this conversation already. He cleared his throat, straightened his back, and steeled his expression as he moved on.
“I’d considered asking the staff, but this is a delicate situation with widespread ramifications, so I’m wary on who to trust. Any one of them could have motives that align with the usurper, or they could be under some obligation to hide him in the name of keeping the peace, or loyalty to Duke Charon, or—I don’t know. I’m just looking for ideas here.”Noble gossip wasn't Lienna’s strong suit, but besides the ever-enduring fact that she had better start learning if she wanted to fare well in noble life, Kellen’s mention of a letter of his own was reason enough to keep her attention.
“Oh yes, I got one too,” she added quickly, pulling hers from its place in her belt. Now was as good a time as ever, though as she held it out to Auberon, she did silently hope it really
was political news and not a sudden, vulgar change of her fiancé's heart on personal correspondence.
“Here, maybe you can glean more from it than I did.”That lie was good enough, but there'd be no weaseling out of the next one, she feared.
“Although... Well, at the risk of sounding uninformed, what exactly is the big deal with this royal bastard?” she had to ask, clearly displeased at her own ignorance.
“I heard mutterings about it from the Gautier soldiers in Hima—and from Count Francis and his staff as well, come to think of it—but why all the side-taking and secrets? Surely this can't be the first time a King fathered a child he'd rather keep under wraps.”Auberon took the letter, though he paused before he began to read to level an incredulous stare at Lienna’s admission. Sure, she might not understand the nuances, but he’d assumed even the village idiot of whatever a Hima was could guess the source of contention. His brow raised in obvious amusement, though his gaze wasn’t outright judgemental.
“Looming civil war tends to weigh on people’s minds. Unless you meant why this backwood nobody’s claim is even being entertained.” Auberon folded up the letter, choosing to focus solely on his explanation for now. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he continued,
“I’m sure you’re aware by now that Crests are the preferred means of determining inheritance. If the eldest child is Crestless and a younger son isn’t, the younger son will typically be next in line for a title. Likewise, if the eldest child has a Minor Crest and the youngest a Major, usually the same occurs. Usually—the exceptions tend to provoke a violent reaction. House Galatea formed when a Minor Crestbearer was named heir over a Major one, for example.” Which was an idiotic mistake that House Daphnel shouldn’t forget now that they’re prominent in the Alliance again, might he add.
“However, none of His Majesty’s legitimate children bear a Crest, and then the product of some hidden dalliance turns up bearing one. Normally, you’d expect the King to simply adopt this newcomer and prepare him for rulership as best he can, but His Majesty has decided to side with primogeniture over divine right to rule.” He sighed as he unfolded the letter again,
“It’s a troubling situation, and noble families that are displeased with the current regime have been throwing their support behind the bastard. Most believe it’ll come to blows.”Auberon skimmed the letter, not particularly excited to accidentally stumble upon empty platitudes of love or other, more vulgar expressions. Though, if Lienna had entrusted the letter to him, it couldn’t have said anything too untoward. Count Francis was evidently a traitor, and a vocal one at that, at least in personal correspondence. Or maybe he just wanted to sway his future bride to his side before she had developed a comprehensive understanding of Faerghian politics.
“This right here,” He pointed to a random line on the page as he tilted the letter for Lienna to see,
“It’s a particularly crass metaphor for consummation of marriage, it dates back to a play from before the Crescent Moon War.” The blond kept silent for a beat or two, then continued humorlessly,
“Kidding.”Lienna listened intently to the explanation, consciously trying not to nod along too fiercely lest Auberon think she saw him as an authority on any matter. There were a few words in his explanation that she didn't understand, but it seemed straightforward enough: The problem wasn't this bastard’s existence, then, but the fact that he posed a material threat to the ordinary line of succession. Or, rather, that the current King was himself deviating from normal succession rules? Agh, semantics—the bastard was stirring up succession somehow and people were taking sides.
She was hoping that Auberon might enlighten her to Count Francis’ allegiance when he pointed out a particular spot on the letter, but she leaned in only for the Stone Guardian of Garreg Mach to crack his first ever untoward joke. Lienna gasped sharply and straightened up, cheeks burning, and snatched her letter back, sending Auberon a murderous glare.
“Thank you, that'll be all the interpretation I need tonight,” she snapped, tucking the letter safely back into her belt. That onerous feeling of being watched welled threateningly in her stomach once again, and out of instinct she glanced around, finding no observer. She was right to be worried, though; not only would it be disastrously improper (according to those handmaidens back in Gautier, anyway) to be seen alone with two young men under cover of night, but with Auberon cracking obscene jokes besides?! She hoped for her own sake that the feeling in her stomach was paranoia and not her fiancé’s spy peeping in.
As she composed herself, she was still left with a principal dilemma: people were taking sides, and she'd be expected to as well, but she couldn't make out her fiancé’s damn writing to see which side she should take. She couldn't very well ask; being ignorant of noble scuffles was one thing, but not being able to read her own fiancé’s letter was quite another. She’d rather be thought of as ignorant than slow.
Fortunately, as she glanced at Kellen in hesitation, an idea came to her.
“Well Kellen, you got a letter too. Where does your father stand on the issue?” she asked, innocently enough. Kellen’s father was brother-in-law to Margrave Gautier; maybe knowing the Fraldarius’ position would inform her to the Gautiers’.
Kellen’s shoulder shot up as the attention returned to him. He had been happy to allow Auberon to explain matters, despite his minor misgivings with the Galatea’s assessment of the situation. He shook his head softly.
“Umm. I wasn’t home, when this all started. But my uncle wasn’t afraid to share his thoughts.” He perked up a little bit at the thought.
“It sounded as though Father is trying to stay above it. Of course everyone is talking, but we’ve always been loyal to the Crown.” He looked to Lienna.
“I’m afraid my family and the Gautiers might not see eye-to-eye on this. Based on how my uncle was talking, I think the Gautiers are leaning towards the Bastard. Nothing unexpected, given their history.” His eyes betrayed no malice.
He risked embarrassment by retrieving the letter—now lightly creased—from his pocket. His eyes scanned over the text.
“No, he didn’t say much about it. He doesn’t write a lot. But as I understand things, we’d never turn our back on House Blaiddyd. If we were to...” He shuddered.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t theorize.” There were enough issues for Faerghus as things stood. He wasn’t sure what good would be gained from imagining new ones.
Auberon hadn’t considered there might be differing points of view even among the duo he’d gathered here, though he should’ve guessed with their families’ opinions to consider. Great. So much for lightening the mood with a stupid joke. He took Lienna revealing the letter to him as a sign of trust, if nothing else, so he wasn’t particularly concerned that she’d sneak off to conspire with the bastard.
“No, Kellen, you’re fine. All we can do is theorize at this point.” He looked to Lienna searchingly,
“I’m not going to hold any ill will against you for siding with your new family, but if you’d rather not be included in any more of these… err, talks on this subject, I’d rather you speak now than feel obligated to sabotage us later.”Lienna’s eyebrows raised incredulously at Auberon, not only for his words, but for that strange look on his face. He looked… put out, almost, but she couldn't tell why. She looked to Kellen as if for confirmation, but the boy's face was as gentle as ever—goodness, if he was to be believed their two Houses might very well go to war, his father and uncle pitted against one another, possibly having to meet his own cousins on the battlefield, and yet he seemed to hold no hard feelings. How did he do that?
Why would he do that? If it was her, she'd be steeling her defences as they spoke, not offering comforting looks to the future wife of her would-be enemy.
But it
was her, wasn't it? She was just as wrapped up in all of this as Kellen, just that without blood ties to the conflict—aside from whatever tiny drop contributed her Crest, anyway—or any vested interest in the outcome, it all felt so far away. Like she was still in Hima, miles and miles away from anything that mattered. But wasn't that backwoods ignorance the very thing she'd been cursing since she came here? Maybe she should take that as a comfort, but something told her that anything other than total awareness put her at risk in this new world she was joining.
She gathered her scarf around her shoulders once more, hugging it tightly to her for little other reason than to occupy her hands as she thought.
“...Truth be told, I’m not personally too concerned about who ascends the throne,” she finally replied, tearing her eyes from the floor to her Housemates.
“I mean, I'm not going to argue with my fiancé, but I don't have any plans for ‘sabotage’ either. I'd rather give Count Francis whatever encouragements he wants and keep my hands out of all… this.” she made a mixing gesture in front of her.
She glanced between her housemates again, cursing her incompetent tongue. Finally she got tired of mincing words and came right out with something much plainer.
“I'm not interested in slitting any throats over who sits on the throne, but I'd still like to know what's going on,” she stated simply, though she was obligated to quietly tack on a reluctant,
“...if you'll have me, anyway.”Kellen was doing all he could to keep from frowning. This was... Uncomfortable. He had caught Lienna’s glance, and questioned his own reaction.
Should he be more concerned? At least in his case, he understood that he was unlikely to exert an influence on whatever position his father took, and while Auberon might have some clout, Lienna certainly did. If any of the Duke’s children had a say, it’d be Rhiannon, though even that seemed unlikely. Kellen was hyper-capable of focusing on problems he had some control over. He could think about every possible danger his immediate actions would entail. But when the scope expanded to such a large scale, he found it easier to distance himself from the issue.
“I don’t think there’s much to fear from talking about it with one another.” He was emboldened by Auberon’s understated approval, or at least non-rejection of his prior comments.
“I, erm. I don’t expect any secrets from either of you. And I’d like to find the… bastard.” He stumbled over the word, wishing there was a name to put to the mysterious figure.
“We could at least set family quarrels aside until then?” He looked to Auberon hopefully.
Auberon looked between them both contemplatively. It sounded like they didn’t have a solid opinion about the situation, even if their families did. Plus, he didn’t really see the harm in either of them knowing the bastard’s identity even if he didn’t quite see eye to eye with them on what to do afterward.
“I agree. Regardless of our feelings on the matter, I’m not going to tolerate conflict within the Lions.” That was half the reason he’d asked them to meet in such an obscure spot; he didn’t want his entire House fragmenting into factional politics on his watch, but he could at least trust Kellen and Lienna not to throw a third of the academy into disarray with loose lips.
“Personally, I want to look this guy in the eye and see if he’s really the type of person countrymen should fight each other for. If he’s not a man worthy of following—worthy of treason, I want every member of the peerage in Faerghus to know of it, regardless of their prior intentions. At the very least, I want to know what his motives are.” His face softened a bit as he shifted a glance between the other two students again.
“I hope that’s agreeable to you both? This is a team effort now.”Lienna glanced between her two housemates, frowning thoughtfully. A team effort, was it? To what, question each Lion about his parentage until they found the one who'd sweat when he had to answer? She wasn't fond of the idea of doing Auberon’s dirty work, his lofty ideals admittedly a bit outside her sphere of interest. But she had to begrudgingly grant him a point; conflict within the Lions would make the rest of the year insufferable. Besides, if they were to be the future rulers of Faerghus’ territories (or at least, pretty close), it
was wiser not to be at each other’s throats.
That was what she'd been telling herself this whole time, anyway; usually right before throwing princesses to bandits or snapping at her House Leader. She took a slow breath; she’d upended her whole life for this, demanded a year at the Academy specifically to make influential friends, to make sure she wouldn't be stranded in Francis’ castle without an ally in the world if things went tits up. It was time she started acting like it, even if she had to pretend.
“A team effort to root out a wannabe king in disguise,” she repeated to herself, giving a bemused nod.
“Sounds like a shitty play. But I suppose I wouldn't want to share a House with a coward or a tyrant anyway.” She punctuated that last bit with a sharpened look at Auberon. Fine; maybe totally making nice would take a little time.
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