Quietly closing the door behind him. Timur let out the breath he was holding.
He’d done all he could to try to comfort his girlfriend, and now Frances was calling her friends to try to seek their advice.
That left him alone to busy himself.
“Is Frances alright?” Epomonia asked.
Timur jumped up, wondering why his part-troll hearing hadn’t heard the centaur approach, or Olgakaren, who was just behind her.
“No, but she’s talking to her friends and sharing her thoughts with them.” He slicked back his hair. “You two are going to go soon, right?”
“Tonight. We’ll leave under the cover of darkness and travel as much as we can at night. Your mother already gave us a letter to give to Dwynalina and Anriel,” said Olgakaren. The harpy blinked thoughtfully. “For some reason, I feel like their names sound familiar.”
Timur nodded. He knew it wasn’t the first time he’d heard of them before, and if Dwynalina was truly his mother’s mentor, then there was a good chance she was a mage of note once upon a time.
Another question for his mother to answer.
“Do you need any help?” he asked Olgakaren and Epomonia.
“No. We’re ready but thanks for the offer,” said Epomonia.
Olgakaren smiled and patted Timur on the shoulder with her wing. “You get some rest too, Timur. You have but a week before you have to move out.”
“I’ll… I’ll try,” said Timur, smiling.
He continued to smile, even as he waved the pair down the corridor. Only then did his smile fade.
What to do? What could he do? Too much free time on his hand, he… he should be with Frances, hugging her—
“Timur.”
The prince jumped and cursed himself for his absent-mindedness. Goldilora was giving him an amused look.
“Sorry. How can I help you, Goldilora?”
Goldilora snorted. “I think you’re the one who needs help, Timur. Come, you and I need to share a drink.”
“A drink?” Timur asked.
“I have a bottle of Yerecht. You ever tried that before?” Goldilora asked.
Timur had indeed tried a bottle of that wine. It was an excellent beverage and one of his favorites. Before he knew it, he found his feet moving after his mother.
“Um, okay then,” he stammered.
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The prince expected to be sitting with Goldilora in her office, but she took them instead to one of the mage towers, where one could see the entirety of the Academy. Land marked by furrows and small clumps of forests spread out from around the academy, with the Great Southern Road coursing through it like a great river.
At first, the two had just attempted to talk awkwardly, snacking on the cookies, sipping glasses of wine. Goldilora asked about Timur’s interest in geography. Timur inquired about Goldilora’s studies in magic. Neither really knew one another and it showed.
But a mutual interest was starting to develop.
“So, how close are you and Frances?” Goldilora asked.
Timur, distracted from savoring his wine, pursed his lips. “We’re… close. We haven’t been dating long, but I feel that the more time I spend with her, the less I can imagine my life without her in it.”
The ogress nodded. “That’s good, though, if I may rephrase my question…” a smirk came over Goldilora’s features “I was more interested in how close am I to becoming a grandmother.”
Warmth hit Timur’s cheeks. “That’s… well, we haven’t done it. I mean…” He took a deep breath. “Look, I want to, but Frances doesn’t, and I’m willing to wait.”
Goldilora smiled. “Good. Keep being patient, Timur. I am sure Frances is interested. She just needs time.”
There was something in his mother’s expression that the prince couldn’t quite get a handle on. He just got the sensation he ought to tread carefully.
“You have a lot of experience with relationships, Goldilora?” Timur asked.
And just like that, Timur knew that his innocent enough question was the wrong one. The ogress’s expression had darkened and her eyes had narrowed.
“Something like that,” said Goldilora. The ogress briefly closed her eyes. “It’s more that I have had a lot of bad experiences.”
Timur scowled, “My father?” He froze as his mother nodded. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
Goldilora sighed. “I suppose you want to know why I married him and had you.”
“I thought you married him because you wanted the financial support you’d get from being a consort to the king,” said Timur.
The ogress blinked and grimaced. “You’re not too far from the truth. I did want the money, but I mostly wanted independence from my family. My mother died in childbirth, my father died during the strife. My grandmother and her sons in House Shatterstone wanted me to marry me off, and I didn’t want to. I’m a researcher, a magician at heart. Your father made me an irresistible offer. If I married him, bear him a child, and he’ll provide me with a stipend and let me go do whatever I want to do. I could use my title as Royal Consort to open doors, and most importantly, the title would protect me from my family.”
Goldilora’s fingers tightened around her glass. “My mentor Dwynalina warned me, but I was too desperate to listen to her. So, I got married, and… well, your father was not as patient as you were. As to why, I didn’t find out until later that your father had set this all up.”
Timur froze. “I’m sorry, what?”
“A relative of mine contacted me and told me that your father was the one who had been bullying House Shatterstone to marry me out. He had planned everything. I couldn’t believe it, but when I confronted him about it… your father just laughed.” Downing her glass, Goldilora immediately refilled it. “After that… well, I couldn’t stay in Minairen any longer. I took his money, took the title, and left to return to the Academy.”
“But… but why you?” Timur asked.
The ogress pursed her lips. “I think Thorgoth wanted a promising mage’s bloodline and he wanted someone vulnerable, who didn’t have a family to support her. I… I probably should have asked Dwynalina and Anriel, but I was too proud and scared to do so,” Goldilora said.
“That… that explains why you left, but why… Why did you reject me?” Timur asked.
With great effort, Goldilora looked at Timur, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Because… you look almost exactly like your father and I… I didn’t want to get involved with anybody of his blood.”
Staring at his mother, a storm raging in his heart, Timur croaked, “I’m your son!”
“I know, and I’m so, so sorry,” she said.
Part of Timur wanted to storm out of the tower. Another part of him wanted to hit his mother.
But most of all, he couldn’t help but just sit in the wooden chair.
Because the thing was, Timur got it. He understood why his mother wouldn’t want to be involved with his father, especially after he’d shown her that side of him. No, he’d always understood in some respect, why she wouldn’t want to stay with his father, or risk his ire by taking him in.
He just wished it wasn’t literally his face that gave his mother nightmares.
“Timur?” Goldilora asked, her voice hesitant.
He emptied his glass once again and filled it up. “This… this is fucking shit,” said Timur.
Goldilora snorted, “It is.”
“I forgive you, mom,” said Timur. They were hard words to say. He practically had to spit it out, but the way that his mother’s eyes just lit up made the effort worth it.
“Thank you, son,” said Goldilora.
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They talked a little longer, getting increasingly tipsy. Whether it was the wine or getting that off his chest, Timur didn’t know, but he found himself smiling as his mother told him stories about her work at the Academy and how she’d become its headmaster.
Goldilora, drinking directly from the bottle, emptied the last drop. “Honestly, I sometimes think my mentor, Dwyanlina, should have become Pedagos. I asked her, but she refuses to get involved in this mess, which is more than fair.”
Clumsily snapping his fingers, Timur reached for a cookie. “Right, I forgot to ask, who are Dwynalina and Anriel? I feel like I’ve heard of them, but I can’t seem to recall.”
His mother seemed almost outraged. “You have never heard of Dwynalina the Violet Queen and Anriel the Dragonslayer?”
Timur’s very drunk memory got very much jogged, and he sat up straighter.
“Wait, you were mentored by the Violet Queen? The legendary mage who figured out how to make Alavari move beyond their own limits with magic?”
“Uh huh. Her studies in augmenting Alavari with magic started my interest in healing magic,” said Goldilora.
“Huh, wait.” Timur’s eyes widened, a queasy feeling setting in. “I was staying with the Violet Queen and… and oh Galena, Anriel the Dragonslayer?”
“Yes, the Dragonslayer, aka the only Alavari in recent memory to kill a dragon. Granted, Dwynalina helped her, but it still stands,” said Goldilora.
“But… I thought they retired to some mansion near Minairen or I don’t know… some wealthy province,” said Timur. “Why were they there?”
“Because Thornspear is their home, Timur,” Goldilora said, looking thoughtful. “When you find your home, Timur, it wouldn’t matter if it was a ruin or a wreck, you won’t ever want to leave.”
“I… I think that about Frances. I can’t imagine what I’d do without her,” said Timur.
Goldilora smiled. “I’m happy for you, son. Though… if I may give one piece of advice, don’t pine for her.”
“What do you mean?” Timur asked, frowning.
“Just as you need to look after Frances, so do you have to look out for yourself, and for your own responsibilities,” said Goldilora. She pursed her lips. “Think of it this way, you fell in love with Frances because she was who she is, right? Not because she loved you.”
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Timur nodded. That much was obvious.
“Don’t think you need to love her for her to keep loving you. She may mean everything to you, but she isn’t your everything, and she is not just yours,” said Goldilora.
“She is her own person, and she loves me… because I’m me,” said Timur, slowly, the lesson dawning on him. It wasn’t a new one, but it reminded him of what Frances had been telling him.
“Exactly,” said Goldilora, smiling. “As long as you keep that in mind, I think you two have a long future together, son.”
Timur smiled, “Thanks, mom.”
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Frances hugged her pillow as she listened to Elizabeth talk about their operations against Earl Darius.
Telling her friends about what she did to Hattie had helped a lot, though, if she was being honest, she didn’t hear anything new from them. She still blamed herself, even if it wasn’t entirely her fault and she wanted to do something for the orphaned girl.
Shaking her head, Frances focused herself back on what Elizabeth was saying. Her friends seemed to be gathered near a fire at their camp.
“So yeah, it’s basically been really tense. Lots of hit and run, moving around. Earl Darius has the advantage in cavalry, but our troops are more experienced, so we’re getting by,” said Elizabeth.
“How is the siege of Salpheron going?” Frances asked, trying to bite back the concern she felt for her mother.
Ginger, sitting beside Elizabeth, let out a chortle. “Not well, for the attackers that is. Some crazy mage unleashed a cloud of noxious fumes that Edana set on fire. The explosion destroyed the siege works that Darius had been building.”
“That must be Ulric. He taught me a long time ago. He thinks a little too out of the box, but I think you would get along with him,” said Frances.
“Speaking of gas… did you find out what did that mage hit you with, Cuz?” Ayax asked.
Frances tried not to pout, but she couldn’t help it. “No. There wasn’t much of that left, but what Goldilora could find suggests that it was incredibly unstable and very hard to make. I don’t think you will see it often, but be careful.”
“That’s a relief,” said Martin. “By the way, we’re still trying to think of why the Traditionalists would want to abduct Morgan, and we found something.”
Sitting up straighter, Frances said, “I’m listening.”
She didn’t like how the expressions on her friends turned grim.
“During our raids against Earl Darius’s forces, we captured several soldiers working directly for Darius. They confessed that the rebels were experimenting on Alavari, trying to make them ‘useful’ to humans,” said Ginger.
“Experiments?” Frances whispered.
Martin’s shoulder sagged. “They weren’t privy to the details, but we corroborated our information with Edana, who told us that prior to the rebellion, two of her mages, Kellyanne and Spinera, were looking into what happened to the Alavari in Erisdale. We talked to them and found clues that the rebels have been looking for magically powerful Alavari, or half-Alavari, and taking them into captivity, along with their families. Unfortunately, just as Kellyanne and Spinera had found a major lead as to where, the civil war broke out.”
Frances bit her lip as she remembered the Vice-headmistress and the old librarian at Salpheron. If they found something, it was likely significant. “Is it possible for you to continue to investigate this?” she asked.
“We’re on it actually. Martin and I are going to head out with J—some Otherworlders, and a company of soldiers to a village in the mountains and meet up with whoever these mages are,” said Ginger.
Frances smiled. “Don’t worry, Ginger, Kellyanne and Spinera are both very good people. They always took care of me.” She sighed. “I wish I could see them again. I still use the presents they gave me for my fifteenth.”
“Who are they by the way?” Ayax asked.
“Kellyanne is the Vice-Headmaster of the White Order and in charge of the magical curriculum. Spinera was the librarian at Salpheron. I’m a bit surprised she’s out of the castle, but with her knowledge, it makes sense she’s looking into this,” said Frances.
“Sounds like they’ll be posh and insufferable,” said Ginger, with an exaggerated sigh.
“They’re both stern, but I think you’ll like them, Ginger,” said Frances.
Ginger waved a hand. “Alright alright, I’ll trust you on this. Thanks for the heads up, though.”
“Thanks for letting me know about the experiments.” Frances winced and looked at Ayax meaningfully. “I just wished we knew how they knew of Morgan, and for that matter, how did they even know of Allaniel?”
Ayax’s expression darkened. “Yeah. Dad was retired and he never really bragged about his past achievements. It doesn’t make sense how the humans knew where we lived.”
Ginger squeezed Ayax’s shoulder comfortingly but Elizabeth and Martin suddenly stiffened and exchanged a wide-eyed look.
“Frances, Timur said his father threatened Morgan specifically right? And that someone was going to pay her a visit?” Martin asked.
Frances nodded, not liking the alarm in the knight’s voice.
“So that means the only way the humans would know where Morgan was is if Thorgoth told them,” said Elizabeth.
Frances blinked. “But that’s impossible. The Traditionalists hate the Alavari. They would never agree to working with them.”
“They might not have to,” said Martin. The knight drummed his fingers on his thigh. “What if Darius was acting on information he thought was trustworthy? Say a spy in Alavaria told him that Allaniel and Morgan were threats, and that Morgan was a promising subject for experimentation?”
Ayax frowned. “What kind of spy would tell him that? It wouldn’t be helping the Traditionalists' cause at all.”
“No it wouldn’t. So the spy is probably one who King Thorgoth actually controls,” said Elizabeth.
Frances almost shook her head at that. Yet, what Timur told her, and what Ayax had told her about the message they’d found continued to ring in her head.
“Wait, back up there for a moment. King Thorgoth controls Darius’s spy? How do we know any of this?” Ginger asked.
“We don’t, but based on what we know, it’s a likely explanation for how King Thorgoth can direct the actions of the Traditionalists,” said Martin. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Would Earl Darius really be that stupid, though?”
“Possibly. More importantly, it would be hard for anybody to see through that deception. The spy that Thorgoth is controlling could sometimes feed Darius bits of reliable information. He wasn’t wrong about Morgan’s magical potential,” said Elizabeth.
Ayax snorted. “If this is happening, it would be horribly ironic. The Traditionalists being taken advantage of by the enemy they hate the most.”
“It’s likely their hatred that is making them underestimate their enemy,” said Elizabeth in a sad voice. The Korean girl paused for a moment. “Frances, there is something you should know. We told you about the Otherworlders splitting, but we didn’t tell you some of the details.”
“What kind of details?” Frances asked, though, she was beginning to have an idea of who these details involved.
“Leila and Jessica. We told you Leila was the one leading the Otherworlders who wanted to side with the Traditionalists, we didn’t tell you which side Jessica picked and what we found out.” A look passed between Elizabeth and Ayax. The troll looked hesitant, but the human girl nodded. “It seems Leila knew you were being abused by your parents and bullied you anyway. Jessica didn’t. Moreover, when she found out, Jessica rejected Leila and sided with us.”
A shiver passed over Frances’s skin. “Leila knew?” she hissed.
“I’m sorry. I know this is hard to hear,” said Elizabeth.
Frances pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you sure about Jessica?”
“It seems she’s had a change of heart over the last few years, and has been on her best behaviour. So we’re testing her with this mission,” said Martin.
“If you say so,” said Frances. She took a deep breath. “I also have something to share. Right now, I can’t use magic. At least not for three more weeks.”
“Cuz? What happened?” Ayax asked.
“I overexerted my magic. I—I’m not sure how to tell Edana. I think my duel with Thorgoth, along with Timur’s curse, and the years of fighting have pushed me beyond my limits,” Frances said. She curled her arms around her knees. “Sorry everybody, I seem to just be attracting trouble in Alavaria.”
“You can get through this, Frances,” said Martin.
“Yeah, just survive as best you can. That prince of yours is helping you, right?” Ginger asked.
Frances blushed. “He’s been amazing and so… patient and kind.”
“Oooh, spill the beans, if you don’t mind that is,” said Ginger, as Ayax, Martin and Elizabeth smiled eagerly.
Frances giggled and in a hushed voice began to relate to her friends the moments she’d been having with her boyfriend.
They couldn’t be with her, but it was nice to have her friends still care for her.
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One week later…
Her feet thumping down the floor, Goldilora almost skidded into the room her son shared with Frances. Before she even stopped, she was hammering the door.
Her son opened the door, in a clear shirt and shorts, blinking drowsiness from his eyes. “Mom? What’s going on—”
“One of my informants just told me Thorgoth’s sent an enemy force to the Academy!” Goldilora exclaimed. “You need to get out of here now!”
Timur shook his head, eyes wide. “What? But we weren’t planning to—”
“You’re out of time! Where’s your girlfriend—”
“I’m here!” Frances cut in. Goldilora blinked. The mage had already put on her mage robes and battle gear in what seemed like a few seconds. “How long until they get here and from where?”
“My informant guessed a week. They’re coming from the northwest,” said Goldilora.
“Then we don’t have any time to waste. Goldilora, get everybody up. You and Timur need to tell them they need to take what animals and supplies they can carry and move,” said Frances.
“On it—” Timur was yanked back by Frances, who shoved a shirt and trousers into his arms.
“Get dressed first!” Frances laughed, before stepping outside and closing the door behind her. She looked back at Goldilora to find the ogress staring at her.
“You’re astoundingly well-prepared for this,” said Godlilora.
Frances averted her gaze. “Well, when you’ve been fighting as long as I have, some habits are hard to break.”
Goldilora smiled sadly. “Thank you for taking care of him, Stormcaller.”
“Thank you. He takes care of me too,” said Frances.
Right on cue, the door swung open and Timur quickly handed Frances her helmet. “Mataia,” he said.
“Oh! Thanks Timur,” said Frances, standing still as Timur quickly put her helmet on and did the straps. “You all ready?”
“I checked the bags you packed so yes, we’re ready,” said Timur, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Let’s go.”
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They left before the break of dawn, a caravan of Alavari and humans sloughing down the Great Southern Road, their carts and wagons rolling over the flagstones.
Timur watched them go from beside the gateway to the academy. Frances had already gone ahead to keep watch on the orphans. He knew why he was dallying, and he knew he ought to move. Yet he still stood.
“Timur,” said Goldilora.
He turned to face his mother, not quite able to meet her eyes.
“Be careful, mom,” he said.
“I will.” Before he could reply, Goldilora pressed a long, cloth-wrapped package into his hands. Timur looked up to see his mother smile. “Take these. Think of these as belated birthday presents.”
The package was very heavy, and Timur had to balance it in his grip as he gingerly pulled apart the string and cloth.
There were two items wrapped with the cloth. One was a fine ebony wand, far better than the cheap one Timur had been using. The second item had a shaped ashe handle of middling length. Yet, unlike the axe at Timur’s belt, a single-edge blade dancing with pattern welds sprouted from the handle. Only this blade curved out like a sickle. In weight and balance, it felt like an axe, but the blade’s length seemed more akin to that of a sword.
“I heard from Dwynalina that you always liked swords, but that your father told you to get a more ‘practical’ axe. So I had this crafted for you if we ever met,” said Goldilora.
Timur hefted the double-handed weapon, eyes wide at the polished handle and the shining steel. “Mom—”
Goldilora suddenly grabbed onto Timur’s shoulders, but she didn’t come any closer. “Look after yourself and Frances alright?”
“I…” Timur nodded and before he could think himself out of it, he hugged his mother. Awkwardly, not quite sure where to put his arms. And yet, from how Goldilora seized him in her grip, he could tell she didn’t care.
“I will. Thank you,” he stammered.
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Having left so early, the road was empty and that lent the convoy a degree of speed. Thankfully, they had enough horse and oxen to move the supplies and so that the younger half-human kids could ride along.
That didn’t mean there were no dangers, though.
Frances was riding near the rear with a few of the armed refugees when she saw a commotion erupt at the front of the column.
“Stay!” Frances snapped out. The mix of Alavari and humans started to go forward forcing her to kick her horse into pulling ahead of them. “I will check it out.”
“We don’t take orders from you!” snapped one of the humans.
“If you go up there, who will guard the rear?” Frances asked, barely just keeping her tone mild.
That stopped the adults from moving, and using this, Frances wheeled her horse around and rode hard for the column.
Already she could hear the sounds of battle.
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Timur had to say that he loved the khopesh his mother had given him. The weapon had a very nice forward balance, which meant he could wield it both like a sword, and like an axe.
Still, he really wished he hadn’t needed to use the weapon so soon!
The front of the refugee column had run into one of the mounted patrols of Alavari that guarded the road, and that patrol had decided to stay loyal to his father.
Bolts of magic from the refugee mages struck out at carbine-firing cavalry. Aloudin and his squad were fighting desperately to try to keep the mages safe from those in the patrol that had closed in. The clanging of blades, the screams of the wounded and the crying of children was all Timur could hear. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off from the centaur he was duelling, or his opponent’s longsword.
He mis-timed a parry and the centaur cut the throat of Timur’s horse. The dying animal threw the prince to the ground. Only sheer reflexes allowed him to escape being trapped underneath him mount, yet strewn on the ground, he could only scrabble backwards as the centaur reared up to bring his hooves down on him.
A long thin blade came in from the centaur’s side, stabbing deep into the horse part of the centaur. Timur gasped as Frances drew her blade back to strike again, only for the bellowing centaur to swing his blade at her.
She managed to parry it, but Frances was clearly not used to fighting with her estoc on horseback. Before the centaur could manage another strike, Timur whipped his wand out and yelled a spell. A bolt of magic slammed into the centaur’s head, killing him instantly.
“Thanks,” Frances said.
“Thank you too,” said Timur. He looked around. The patrol they’d engaged were either dead or fleeing, but there were a lot of wounded. Already a few of the mages that were healers were trying their best to seal wounds.
“We need to get everybody onto the carts and wagons. We don’t have time,” said Timur.
“Alright,” said Frances. Timur blinked at her as she looked at him expectantly. “Timur?
“What are you looking at me for…” Timur’s voice trailed off as he realized that not only Frances, but the rest of the refugees and Aloudin were turning to him. Swallowing, he took a deep breath. “Alright, we need to load everybody onto the carts and wagons. Aloudin, are any of your squad wounded?”
“Yes. Joa took a bit of a scratch, but we’re bandaging her up.”
“Good, can the mages prioritize her?” Timur asked.
“We can,” said a goblin healer.
“Thanks. Well, um, get moving, hurry!” Timur stammered.
As everybody quickly got back to work, Frances walked up to Timur and put her hand on his shoulder.
“That was good,” she said, smiling.
“You think so?” Timur asked.
Frances squeezed her love just a little tighter. “Yes. You just need to get used to it.”
Timur snorted. In a quieter voice, he said, “I still don’t understand why they’re looking to me of all people.”
“Because you are their prince Timur,” said Frances. “Just like how you are my prince.”
Thorgoth’s second son nodded slowly, his shoulder stiff, as if suddenly realizing the weight upon him.
“Right.” He took another breath. “Right.”
“I’ll be right with you, Timur, don’t worry,” Frances insisted.
Timur cracked a smile. Frances could tell it wasn’t confident, but she smiled too. Her boyfriend would need all the help she could give, even if she couldn’t use her magic at the moment.