I was petulant and difficult, the next month of convalescence. There was little pain anymore, bruises all but gone. Even my leg felt fine.

Instead of telling mother or Ivian that my knee was healed and I was feeling better, when Ivian or mother came to the room, I clutched onto Semolina and rolled over to look at the wall.

It was all because of the plot. Mother and father were going to pull me and Ivian apart.

It probably didn't help my mood much that I was condensing mana every day now that I was decently recovered. The daily struggle left me exhausted and cranky and something about the mana felt sharp and raw, cold and turbulent, not unlike mana was supposed to feel, just that memories of it and the real thing were different.

Why should I go to the capital? And why wouldn't my maid come with me?

All I knew of the capital was that the ipocond had come from there, bringing Nistan and tragedy in tow.

Father talked of his sister and family, but feuds and conspiracies seemed like a poor replacement for Ivian.

"Tilly, please," Ivian coaxed, "turn over, look at me."

"Don't wanna." I said grumpily.

A sigh left both Ivian and mother's mouths and I guiltily looked back towards them.

"Tilly, how is your leg?" mother asked, bending down to unwrap the linens around it.

I sullenly kept quiet as mother bent and unbent my knee.

"If it doesn't hurt, then we can take all this off. Wouldn't you like that?"

"No."

Maybe if I just stayed in bed, we wouldn't have to leave.

It was hot and uncomfortable inside, but not as hot and uncomfortable as it was outside. The peak of summer had already passed and it was getting cooler if anything outside now. Here, Ivian would bring me treats and I could focus on drawing out my memories of the runes when I had some time.

Mother coaxed and Ivian apologised as yet another day went by. Mother decided we could stay a bit longer to my cautiously hopeful delight, before father came to the room for his now daily visit.

"I hear Tilvrade is feeling better." He said to mother, "I have told Mr. Barker and Saul that we leave at the end of the week."

"Sivis, maybe we can wait another month?" Mother asked on my behalf.

"My dear, we have been over this before, the sooner we leave, the better."

"Yes, I know, but maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to wait for the fall. You father might not even be in Gristol right now. It's such a big change for Tilly and he's still recovering..."

"Father will be there. From what I hear, he hasn't left the capital this summer. More importantly, Tilvrade needs a quick break. Further dallying will just cause us all unnecessary pain." Father was impassive in front of mother's attempts. "You do not want another incident, do you? If it really was Cond Bairv behind this, we need to confront him and my brother and make sure this does not happen again."

"Do you really think he will? Your father has not said anything in 7 years. He must have heard about Tilly's birth, if not Nistan too."

"My father is stubborn, but what else can we do? I was never a politician, despite his attempts. I only know how to solve problems head on. He should not refuse to keep Tilvrade safe, but if he does, we need time to return here before the first snows."

My parents, carried away in their own debate, leaving me to repent my recent petulance and seek out Ivian.

Ivian saw me looking to her and came to be with me.

"Ivian, please please please?" I asked, reverting to the simplest of expressions to solve my own problems head on.

Ivian didn't respond, but she pat my head and looked at me fondly.

"Ivian," my mother said, once father left the room. "Please get a meal for Tilly. Then, we should look through his clothes to see what should be packed in my coach chest."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Noaah, aaah!" I shouted, as I was carried along by Ivian to the carriage in the sticky humidity of dawn. "I don't want to go. I'll stay with Ivian!" I screamed.

"I apologise Ivian, he just wouldn't let me carry him."

"No, please do not worry, Lady Cianna. As I see him like this, I am almost feeling regretful I am not going with you to the capital."

"Ivian, come with uuuus! I don't want you to leeaaave..."

"I know how close you and Aian were and that your sister doesn't want you to leave Olwick, but I hope that next year might change your mind. We should be back in Olwick by next fall at the latest, if we don't come running back before winter."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Thank you Lady Cianna."

I wanted to resist getting in the stupid carriage that Mr. Barker had gotten from somewhere. But I didn't want to make a fuss in Ivian's arms either. My mother had trapped me well.

I started kicking and screaming as soon as mother took me from Ivian. She dragged me into the small car anyways, my cries only making mother scowl as I heard the crack of a whip from outside.

A tremor went through the carriage as it started to roll forward on the stony path towards Olwick.

As soon as we got past the gate to the manor grounds, I calmed down. I was not yet resigned to my separation with Ivian, but I couldn't help my curiosity in the new sights passing by.

Unlike that rainy night Nistan took me through the forests, the path to Olwick was not through thick forest.

We first travelled by an orchard that my mother said was the apple trees. Trees they were, but groomed in carefully planted rows. As we passed by, there were men and women picking the red fruit and placing them in wicker baskets. I wondered if the apples I had eaten just this morning had been picked by them too.

Many of these tenders stopped and turned, bowing or waving at the carriage as we passed. Father, who was riding on his own horse outside the carriage with Saul seemed to be known to all of them.

Once we passed them by, I leaned out of the window and noticed them still staring at us from behind. Perhaps the carriage was an unusual sight to them as it was to me.

It wasn't all that long before we made it to Olwick. At first, I hadn't realised we were even in the village, only seeing little thatch and wood hovels, alien to my memories both otherworldly and from here. But as the huts started increasing in numbers with mud trails running between them, I realised we were in Ivian and Grita's village.

One of the people I saw was Ivian's sister.

Instead of the white clothing that I had seen her in at Aian's funeral or the clean plaited dress she had at the manor, she was wearing a more worn down dress with a number of patches, similarly to a lot of the other villagers.

Ivian's sister was not looking our way. She seemed to be calling someone in the house behind her. It was one of the few houses we had seen that was made with stones and plaster, though only half of it.

Then, as the carriage rolled forward and we came around the front, I saw Eve standing in the doorway, her father just behind her.

Eve's mouth was dropped open as she looked at the carriage. Her father seemed to be whispering something into her ear with a smile on his face. Behind him inside their house, I saw a few tables, mostly empty, except for a few loaves of bread that looked exactly like what Ivian brought to us at the dinner table.

I waved and Eve came alive again, waving back and trying to walk forward before her father scooped her up.

"Horsies!" she exclaimed, and I felt miffed that the horses pulling the carriage were more important to her than her handsome and noble friend.

Fafi, who was jogging along out of sight below the window gave her a good bark to tell her what we thought of horsies.

We kept on going though, and the angle of the carriage window soon hid the baby and her family.

The carriage soon pulled up and I saw another familiar face from Aian's funeral gathering. It was one of the three old men, the one who had been speaking of Aian's days before mother and father had come to Olwick, as a valet to the steward.

Father got down from his horse and went to greet the old man who seems to have been expecting us. After a clasp of wrists as greeting, father took a gigantic iron key with an ornamented double looped handle piece from a string around his neck and handed it over.

"Gregrick, the manor will be in your care." He said as he handed it over.

The old man bowed low and then accepted it ceremoniously. "My lord, this one will make sure the harvest is tended to and the taxes are paid."

"Thank you Gregrick. I will leave Lord Jemson to you."

"My lord, I know you are short on men. These two from the militia are still young and unmarried and could do well in your service."

"Yes, I received your message the other day. I will be counting on them as we make our way to Gristol.

Father motioned the two men on horses to join our caravan.

Mother noticed my gaze and told me Gregrick was the steward. He would be moving into the manor in my father, the lord's absence.

And then, we departed Olwick, two more guards in tow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The journey was boring and unending.

A whole day, from when we left, I just sat in the carriage, rumbling along dirt paths. There were trees, trees and more trees to see and little else besides the uneven dirt path that jolted the carriage most uncomfortably.

Fortunately, some of the carriage's movement was softened for me as I spent most of the ride in mother's arms.

While we were still bumping along the country roads, I had at least asked for the rest of the story mother had stopped telling me now long ago. I remembered the tales of the velikans and the human hero as mother pointed out we were near the ruins from that dark night.

The hero, after heading south, when mother fell asleep, had been searching for a teacher.

He met a warrior who would teach him the sword. But he believed he would never be strong enough to face the velikans with only a sword, so refused him and kept on travelling. He met a duke, rich and powerful who offered to teach him how to command armies. But how would he raise an army larger than his clan to fight in the north?

It was only after many years had passed that he finally found a warlock who said he would teach him to sacrifice his life in exchange for the power he needed to bring death upon his foes.

Mother looked out towards the trees towering above us.

"Your mother and father did not want to leave Olwick either, Tilly," mother told me, in the middle of her tale, "But sometimes all of us need to make sacrifices to protect what is precious to us."

Mother continued her story, talking of how the hero trained with the warlock, only to rapidly age beyond his years. All the same, he studied diligently and learned the dark magics from his master until he felt it was time to go back.

Wrinkles marred his face and thin bones made it hard for him to walk as he made his way North again. When he arrived in the village of the Ibolidor, he was received with disdain and fear by his failing clan. They did not want a warlock, cursed by his own choice, to come back to their clan.

Still, he told them of his resolve and the story of his travels and was able to convince them to raid their enemy with him.

With a host of warriors to protect him, the warlock arrived in Macani, the lair of the velikans.

And there, he turned on his own, saying it was for the greater good.

Mother tickled me gently and interrupted her story again. "The warlock was lost and desperate, bitter at the sacrifices he made. He even felt resentment to the clan he wished to protect, still huddling in the North, living their lives, cowering just to take things easy. But remember, what the warlock did was evil. Even evil acts can achieve good sometimes, but that does not mean they are excusable."

Somehow, using the strange magics of his master, the warlock cast a hex with the lives of the men over the velikan cave. The hex brought desolation, not just to the velikans, but to the whole area around the caves. Plants shrivelled and birds and insects died and even water ran black for a time.

Even today, the Macani ruins are surrounded by remnants of the hex, no trees able to grow around the giant domes. The warlock himself never knew the happiness of triumphing against his hated foes. He himself died there only leaving the scar on the land as his grave.

"Olwick has been our home for 8 years now and there, your father and I had you, our great joy. But there are evil men who won't let us be. So please don't hold it against us. We only want the best for you."