Pull Away from Vengeance
> “The power to protect my dearest person…” ~Frill Veli
“Where’s Frill?” Frein asked.
He sat on a marble bench in the middle of a courtyard of a grand establishment named, Minaveil Manor. This was only but one from a myriad of things and topics he hesitantly set at the back of his mind. Realizing that Katherine was not only a famous protector with a prestige title of Lady of the Void, but also an heiress to a massive fortune added to what was already an overfilled bowl of questions and subjects of study Frein wished to engaged in unhindered.
Just the simple travel from Minaveil’s Vanguard to the Manor—riding a purpose-built machine pulled by a pack of flying gigantic dogs Katherine referred to as yumas—underneath two moons had already pressed Frein on the edge of squealing like a nerdy kid.
It was a fantasy book come to life through and through. And more than once, he would admit, he thought he could die happy. The irony amused him at the very least.
Still, through all the excitement, all the unknown, this desire for adventure had to be tempered down. Frein forced them away, not letting them distract him. There were more pressing questions.
Every question regarding Elizzel would be answered in time, the faunel promised this, and though he couldn’t fully trust her yet, there was very little he could do about it at the moment.
There was also Hal and Ral’s sudden change in demeanor. It was subtle, but their desire to serve their king quickly turned a complete one-eighty without any sort of fanfare. But since no one pointed it out, he decided to discuss the matter privately with Katherine later.
That left Frill. She was nowhere to be found in the courtyard.
“She...” Kristel hesitated. “She said she wanted to be alone.”
“Where?” he repeated. He stripped his tone of any malice, at least he thought he did. Everyone was already down and exhausted enough as it was.
No one answered.
Frein turned around. He didn’t know the first place to look, but he wanted to find her. Not even his injuries could stop him.
After suffering comes the madness. He knew it quite well, dealt with it for many years. The underground arena had been his outlet. He got dragged too deep and enjoyed it too much. If Katherine hadn’t showed up, hadn’t helped him during bad nights, and hadn’t eventually decided to tear the place down, things might have gone differently.
“You don’t even know her,” said the Princess, breaking him out of his thoughts. “She wants to be alone, let’s give her some time to grieve.”
“No, we can’t,” Frein argued. He knew not many people would understand or would even try to do so. “I saw her in that maelstrom, Kristel. You shouldn’t leave someone with that much hate alone with her thoughts. Not now. This is supposed to be your job.”
She stepped back, offended.
Frein immediately realized his mistake. “Sorry, that was out of line. But she’ll be too dangerous to be left on her own. If you don’t want her becoming a stranger to all of you, you’ll let me know where she is.”
“You might find her on a hill west of here, just outside the town proper,” Lor said. “That’s where she used to spend time with Liona.” He sat awkwardly on a pillowed bench, giving Flimeth a difficult time to dress his wounds. Frein still couldn’t believe he ate a lightning strike and lived to tell the tale.
“I don’t know what you intend to do, but please, don’t be too harsh,” he added.
Frein frowned at him. “You’re taking this pretty well, being her brother and all.” He paused. “No offense.”
Lor waved a hand, understanding the implications. “Step-brother. You read between the lines pretty well, Visitor, but there’s no getting used to this, sadly.” He pointed all over himself. “I just can’t afford to think of anything else right now.”
“What do you intend to do?” Kristel asked.
“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
The Princess threw a concerned look at Katherine.
“You can trust him; he knows what he’s doing...to a point.” Katherine pointed far away in front of her. “West is that way. Cross the bridge to your left, then turn left right after. Just follow the main road until you find the gate.”
They stared at each other for a while; Frein silently asking if she wanted to go together. “I don’t think I should go with you.”
He nodded and started heading west.
He tried his best to ignore all the foreign designs of buildings and landmarks along the way. The blaring differences of each abode—ranging from humble establishments to completely modern and slick houses—vied for his attention. While they all incorporated nature into their designs, there was not a single house that looked the same.
The streets were empty, everyone was either recuperating or huddling together in their homes or wherever the night caught them.
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On their way to Minaveil Town, he had seen bands of knights—those who didn’t have access to the same speed of travel as theirs—forming an encampment on the side of the dirt road. They had settled in, making do with whatever provisions they brought with them and sharing them amongst other travelers.
In the town itself, there were some who chose to spend the night reveling in their victory. He could hear echoes of cheery songs of victory coming from the other direction.
He followed the road westward, and eventually saw a path leading out of town. The gates looked rather plain, made of metal surrounded by a stone wall. The guard station was unsurprisingly empty, but at least there would be no need to identify himself—
Frein felt a slight nudge on his side and heard a girl’s shriek.
What’s with this cliché?
As Frein turned, he reflexively reached out a hand and caught a girl mid fall. She had red hair the same as Frill’s, but she looked younger overall. The pair of glasses also caught his attention. Anyone capable of Drawing Siffera had no need for eye correction. She was also holding a picnic basket that fortunately stayed in her hand.
It was an apt reminder for him: Not everyone spent their time training or even bothered to touch Meiyal Arts in the first place.
“Are you okay, miss?” Frein asked, following a mandated script most cliché stories had to offer. He could’ve chosen a more condescending line, but he never really once pictured himself as a bully no matter the context—even when fighting other people. The last one was debatable if he was being honest.
The girl quickly recovered and withdrew her hand, bowing so frantically that her glasses slipped off her nose.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you!” she said as she struggled to catch her specs in midair. She quickly realized she didn’t answer the question, so she stepped back and bowed deeper. “I’m not hurt, thank you for your concern. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Well, at the very least, Frein was thankful to confirm that bowing was a body language used in the same context. He imagined there would be more observations and confirmations he had to go through to really blend in, but this was a start.
“I’m okay,” he said. “If you’re not hurt, then I should go. I’m looking for somebody.”
“Are you, perhaps, looking for Frill?”
The line quickly rose flags and his guard subtly stood at the ready. “You know her? She a friend?”
“I’m not sure if ‘friend’ is the right term, but she’s a regular at our inn—purchases our food and sometimes brings guests over and pays for their lodging. We very much appreciate her patronage.”
“How’d you know I’m looking for her?”
The redhead girl noticed the undertone underneath his question and took another step back. “I apologize for intruding, it’s just that…I saw her pass by a few minutes ago. She looked sad, so I wanted to cheer her up.”
She lifted the basket and offered it towards Frein. “If you’re looking for her, would you mind giving her these? They’re sweet buns fresh from the oven. It’s the one she buys the most.”
Frein took the basket and had a peek just to confirm the contents. Steam puffed from the container and the sweet scent of baked pastry reminded him about dinner. The thought of having freshly baked bread was odd, given the time and place they were in, but he gave the question a pass. People were celebrating all around so maybe everything was on the menu.
“Thanks, I should go, then.”
The girl gave her a bow and they both went their separate ways. Frein continued on the main road after he passed the gate.
It was easy to spot Frill. She sat on a public bench on a small hill overlooking the river running along the west in parallel with the road. Beside her was a grown brown yuma who stood up alert and turned towards him. She followed her companion's gaze right after and saw him.
“How are you?” Frein asked as he approached.
“You should leave,” Frill answered right after; her voice slightly coarse, but much better than a few hours ago.
“I brought you something to eat.”
“My mistress asked you to leave, stranger,” the yuma growled.
Frein did expect the flying dog to speak. The four yumas that brought them back to town had a very interesting conversation about which among them wasn’t running or flying fast enough.
“I only wanted to check on your mistress, Mr. Yuma,” he responded. “I have no ill intentions.”
Frill did a double take, and then she frowned when her yuma did stop growling on his own volition.
“Prove it,” the yuma said.
Frein stretched out a hand. “Here, you should be able to smell her scent from me. I helped her out just a while back.”
“You’re seriously speaking to him?” Frill asked, unable to let her brooding take over her curiosity. It was the same for Frein; curiosity always won over whichever emotion he felt.
“Yes, I can speak with creatures who are attuned to meiyal,” Frein said nonchalantly.
“No wonder I can understand you, stranger,” the yuma said.
“The name’s Frein.”
“Stiry.”
“Stiry? Frill gave you that name?”
“Do you have a problem with that, Frein?” Stiry asked, growling.
“No, not at all. I think it’s a great name! Better than mine, for sure!”
Frill was simply there, jaw agape. “You’re not just making this up, are you? The others didn’t tell you who he is, so that you can start up a conversation like this to break the ice, did they?”
“You’re very imaginative, Frill.” Frein placed down the basket and crossed his arms. “Alright, then. Stiry, would you mind telling me a secret about your mistress that only you know?”
“I’m not sure I’m allowed,” Stiry replied.
“He wants your permission, Frill.”
She hesitated, but eventually gave her yuma a nod. Stiry, in turn, pondered for a second.
“She often provides me and my mate, Fittey, extra meals when Lor isn’t looking.”
“Alright.” Frein turned to Frill. “Does your stepbrother know; you’re feeding him and Fittey off their schedule? If they become too fat to run, it’s your fault.”
There was a moment, Frein was sure. He would bet every read he had done on every person he had ever met and fought on this one study of Frill’s subconscious.
A moment when Frill’s dim expression turned from one brooding a long struggle to exact vengeance, deciding to sacrifice every ticking second of her life to this one purpose, to one of wonder and awe.
It brought Frein relief. She’s not completely lost.
“Wow,” Frill breathed in amazement. “I never told anyone that.”
“Or maybe Lor noticed, but kept it a secret. And he told me that small trivia so I can talk with you,” Frein challenged sarcastically.
“You’re very imaginative, Frein,” Frill returned the line with the same level of sarcasm, now more willing to engage in verbal sparring.
“Thank you. I read a lot of books.” He picked up the basket and showed it once more. “So, want to eat?”
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