Lady Sorore?” Lillian said, cocking her head at her action.
“Right, right,” she said, drawing the cloth over the scars, covering the slight luminance as she fussed about with her cloak.
“The commander is going to meet us in the village. After we confirm with him, we’ll have our lesson,” said Lillian, either not noticing, or not caring to ask. Frare’s face lit up at the invitation, and she could see his fingers beginning to twitch. She could barely keep her own smile from twisting her lips - her brother was so easy to please.
“Remember that we would be loath, as their protectors, to harm a Bequeathed’s person,” chided Niche, as he adjusted one of his own gauntlets.
Lillian nodded, the briefest sideways glance of irritation only visible to Sorore. As they laced a set of boots, Sorore could feel the change in the air. It seemed to be thicker, the sounds of human speech, the crunch of their footsteps, and somewhere in the distance a clang rang through the chilly morning. She tried not to get to excited at the prospect of a artisan’s workshop, or a forge.
Finally, the carriage slowed, and through the open window on Lillian’s side, she could see small houses and people stopping to stare at the procession. A knock came at the door, with a muffled confirmation of the train stopping. Lillian offered a quick reply, and then turned back to the twins.
“Well, then. It’s time to go. The commander is just coming to the center of the village. We can walk with him to the church, and offer our prayers there.”
“Then the lesson?” asked Frare.
Lillian nodded as she undid the latch on the door, and pushed it open. A rush of cold air burst into the cabin, sending Sorore’s red-blond hair tossing and tumbling out from her hood. She would’ve tried to push it back in, but she knew it was probably easier just to accept the glances and murmurs. Lillian stepped out, the cabin leaning as she hopped onto the spare snow. Rolling her shoulders, she offered a head to Sorore as she stepped down, the coldness of the snow rushing up her boots.
People were looking around in wonder as dozens of knights in mail and furs dismounted onto the snow, leading their horses this way and that. Some began to catch a glimpse of the twins, staring at the flaming hair. She was used to it and even enjoyed it to a certain extent - there was a certain magic to simply wandering around locations. Her brother, on the other hand, pulled his hood down. She never really understood why he felt so conscious about his hair, but it been like that since they were young.
Either way, they were quickly escorted through the crowd by their two paladins, both taking a pair of horses from a stable-hand. They were lead to the edge of the ring of houses that they had stopped within, where three men stood. One was an elderly man, dressed in simple, if exceptionally warm-looking clothes, wearing a small bronze pendant on his chest. The second was dressed in the robes of a priests, albeit with some rustic modifications. Finally, there was a man dressed in simple traveller’s garb, boots splattered with mud. He was drinking a steaming concoction while nodding along as the elderly man spoke.
As the paladins approached, the two grew quiet and the priest lowered his head in difference.
“Commander Naia. We’ve arrived safely. There was no incidents of significants since you left us,” said Lillian, gesturing to the baggage trains.
“Paladin Lillian, Niche” said Naia, brushing his long hair back with one hand while placing the bowl on a nearby table. The siblings he approached with a easy smile and slight bow.
“Lady Sorore, Lord Frare, I trust the journey was to some level of satisfaction.”
She had to stifle a giggle at the glibness of the man. As much as she enjoyed ceremony and formality, Naia’s more casual courtesies were a breath of fresh air. She gave a small courtesy in response and bade her brother to perform an equivalent. He performed what some might call a bow, and looked at Lillian impatiently.
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“With the paladins to keep us company, how could it be bad?”
Naia laughed at the remark, as he gestured for the two gentlemen beside him to come forward.
“These are the village alderman Parnes, and the village priest… I believe that Tulescent is your ordained name, correct?”
“It my honour to have that name, yes,” said the priest, stepping forward, “though nothing compared to the honour of meeting you.”
Sorore tried not to stare, but her habit reasserted itself as she examined the lines of his face. His eyes were this milky brown, like the melted chocolate she’d once seen, drizzled over confections at a banquet held in honour of her father’s mission. Small grey hairs dotted the black coif that adorned his pale skin and… Her brother touched her hand, a gesture so subtle few would’ve noticed, but it was enough. She shook her head, smiled, and curtsied to the priest.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tulscent.”
“Likewise, my lady.”
Frare remained silent, examining the man from head to toe. She took his hand, and pulled him a little closer to him.
“You must forgive my brother, he tends to be a little shy when meeting new people. I hope my greetings will suffice for the both of us.”
The man smiled warmly and nodded in agreement, while Lillian cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, Tulescent, alderman Parnes. Commander, I think it would be best if the children visited the village church. To pay their respects and give their blessings.”
Naia’s eyes scanned the face of the paladins as he paused. It wasn’t the first time Sorore had seen this particular dance, and, as young as she was, she had a inkling of why Lillian’s words were not a request, however diplomatic.
“That sounds like an excellent idea, paladin Lillian. I would like to reserve one of you for the planning, though. Perhaps you would take the children to the church with good Tulescent, and Niche stays with me, and relays our plans later?”
Lillian thumbed the pommel of her sword, looking straight into Naia’s eyes. The slightest curl of a bitten lip betraying her reluctance on an otherwise neutral face.
“You didn’t find any traces here, did you?”
“None. The priest can attest to it. I’d be surprised if you ran into a wild animal on the short ride to the church, let alone something more problematic.”
“If you can’t-” began Niche before Lillian coughed again and sniffed.
“Very well. I expect you to find me after the meeting’s done. Lady Sorore, Lord Frare, let us go.”
“As you wish,” said Naia, with a nod.
They turned away from the council of men, trudging away in the snow. The priest joined them to take one of the horses, smiling, but not attempting to make conversation. Like many people of the faith, she was sure he was excited just to be in the presence of the Bequeathed.
“Why’d you talk to the commander like that?” asked Frare once they were well out of earshot.
Sorore sighed at her brother’s lack of tact. Maybe if you read between the lines in class, Frare, she thought. Lillian remained silent as they cleared the houses cluster around the edge of the circle. She seemed to be mulling over whether she should explain to them, as far as Sorore could judge her presentation.
“We are different. He’s of the army, I’m of the church. Light lords were formed as a compromise, a check on the military. I have to be mindful of his position, and his mine.”
“I knew that. He’s higher in rank to you, isn’t he? But he treats you like an equal.”
“It’s always been that way. Paladins are afforded more respect than a common captain,” Lillian said, shrugging as they cleared the last pen walls.
“It’s more than that. You don’t like him.”
The slightest flinch of the shoulders was enough to reveal that Frare had driven something home.
“It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s that… it’s difficult to explain,” she said, looking up to the sky as if for searching for answers in the overcast clouds.
Frare was about to speak, maybe to try and stir the pot even more, but Sorore gave him a look. He flushed with shame and kicked at the snow crust as they began to pass into the trees.
“Just beyond here. Take the right turn and ride up the hill, and that will get us to the church,” said the priest, breaking the awkward silence. They passed under the bows of the trees, the path growing narrower and darker as the pines towered over them.
“Good. I suppose we’ll have to split between the horses. Tulescent, if you would, I’d like you to-”
The tops of the trees began to sway as a sudden breeze began to whistle through the branches. The came a gust, and with it, something more. A great shock wave slammed into Sorore, sending her spinning to the ground as icy cold gripped the forest. A horrid mixture of sounds, screams, whispers, the howls of animals, and things she couldn’t identify shrieked through the clearing.
When she managed to right herself, her brother was already on his feet, clambering to her side. Lillian herself was standing before them, sword drawn eyes sweeping the trees.
“Sorore, Frare, get behind me. Father, watch our backs, and if anything comes, shout.”
Frare hauled her up with ease, raising her to her feet while roughly batting the snow off her clothes.
“Damnit, Naia,” she heard Lillian growl as she swept the clearing.
“I’m okay, I’m okay-” Sorore began to say when she looked down at her arm. Light shone between the gaps of thread as she stopped to observe. Frare looked at her arm, then to her, then to his own, pulling back layers of fabric to show what they both knew lay under.
If Sorore had to describe the sensation, it would’ve been like holding a thin metal sheet while someone hammered the other end. Resonance ran up her arm, so potent that she could feel every outline of bone ensconced in flesh. Ghostly light shone as the scars opened like eyes across her fingers and hands.
“Lillian.”
“Wha-” she said as she spun her head around to look at the children’s flesh. Frare’s matched her, silvers of light crawling their way up past his elbow. Lillian’s face was almost as pale as the light itself, and Sorore noticed that her fingers tightened around the grip of her sword.
“We need to get back to the village. Now.”