Chickadee had spent nearly all of his time working in the forge. Today, he was working without a shirt. This would normally be considered a bad idea, but he was only kneading metal. Anything involving striking metal or anything else that would involve sparks flying everywhere would have to be saved for another time. Especially on a day so warm that he had started to overheat...
His only real problem was that there wasn't anyone he could talk to. Veximarl had gotten sent off on an emergency mission, and everyone else had also left. Rowan, Elm, and Bryn were the only first years at the barracks, and Irving, Mila, and Anais were the only second years. Chickadee didn’t have a reason to talk to any of them, but Bryn often came to sit next to the forge, which annoyed Chickadee a great deal.
Bryn treated him like a science project.
He did not like Bryn.
The cleric would often sit nearby and make notes on everything Chickadee did. He was still interested in the phenomenon that had increased the mages power, and had applied to Braytons due to its close proximity to the mage town. Chickadee was often bombarded with questions, and oddly enough, the infirmary was the only place where he could hide from the cleric.
“Drip, drip, drip. The sound hit her ears first, followed by the scent of blood. Lastly was the sight of it, for it was far too gruesome of a scene for her mind to comprehend. ‘They… They put him on display,’ she whispered with fear. And it was true, they had taken her brother's body and hung him like a gutted deer.”
Chickadee froze at the entrance of the infirmary. He stared at Anais, eyes wide. She quickly realized he was standing there, then she covered her embarrassed face with a book.
“Is fine!” Chickadee waved his hands about. “Didn’t mean to interrupt!”
Anais was technically well enough to leave, but she didn’t feel like she would’ve been any use if she had gone on a mission. She had stayed in the infirmary because it was far too lonely in her squadroom. The wolf at her feet nudged her hand with his nose, and she scratched behind his ear.
“Mister Alder is kind enough to loan me these books. Reading out loud is supposed to help with my comprehension skills,” she muttered.
Chickadee walked over and sat down in a chair next to her bed. “Keep going.”
Anais shook her head. “I love books but I’ve read so much since my accident that I fear that I’m going to go insane. Talking to anyone is a welcome change.” Chickadee nodded his head. “You’re also lonely, right?”
Chickadee had plenty of tainted beast pieces to work with. Now that everyone had conscription looming over their heads, he was working with the forgemaster to make certain all the third years had proper weapons and armor for the war. He did enjoy work, but he preferred to do it when others were nearby. Even if he wasn’t a part of their conversations, he enjoyed listening to them.
“They’ll be back soon,” he replied.
“How is Mister Penvil doing on his mission?” Anais fumbled her hands together as Chickadee tilted his head. “Uhm, Emery. How is he doing?”
Chickadee shrugged.
“I suppose you’re both busy. If it were my boyfriend who was away, I’d probably make a fool of myself writing the stupidest letters every day.
Chickadee put his hand to his mouth. “... I forgot.”
“You forgot to write to Mister Penvil?”
Chickadee nodded his head. It was difficult to get in contact with someone while traveling, and it was likely that Emery was also busy. No letters had been exchanged between them for a few weeks.
Anais put her hand to her chin as she thought. “I do agree that he doesn’t have much of a presence… Ah! I suppose this is like object permanence!” Chickadee tilted his head again. “It’s the idea that something continues to exist despite the fact that you cannot see it. I lost it for a while after I woke up from my coma. It was absolutely the scariest thing.”
He did know that Emery existed when he wasn’t around, but he struggled to maintain a relationship while he was away. That didn’t seem to be the same thing as what Anais was saying. Chickadee shook his head to indicate this.
“May I ask why you’re seeing him?”
“To be happy,” replied Chickadee.
He wanted to fall in love. The reason why he chose Emery was that he thought he would eventually feel that way about him, but he hadn’t gotten there yet. Sure, they were both creative people, but Chickadee always felt like… Maybe something was missing. He didn’t know if he was being picky or if something was wrong.
“Are you happy?”
Chickadee was content with where his life was at the moment. Then again, none of that had anything to do with Emery. Emery was like meeting a nice dog while one was out on a walk. It was fantastic to be near him, but Chickadee didn’t miss him.
“Yes and no.”
“Ah… That’s a shame.” Anais didn’t have much of a response. “Would a game of Haztooth blitz make you feel better?”
Chickadee nodded his head. He supposed that being lonely wasn’t all bad. It gave him the chance to become a better friend to other people. Though, he wondered how the others were doing. Deep down, he knew that time was quickly approaching. When they’d be all grown up and gone their separate ways… And it frightened him.
Life wasn’t going to wait for them to be ready. Each of them were being tested now. How were they going to manage on their own once the time came? Would they be happy with where they landed? Or would they regret the choices they made now?
“Rip! Snap! Crunch!” Zaniyah picked up a child and twirled her about. “I'm a giant monster and I am going to eat you all up!”
A swarm of children jumped on top of her and bowled her over. She let out a dramatic cry of agony as she writhed back and forth on the dirt. Her hands made vivid gestures as she pantomimed her guts spilling out everywhere.
She had been enjoying her time at the abbey. Children were fun to play with, there were always travelers passing by with good stories, and the members of the clergy were nice. They did a daily mass and meditation, which were oftentimes boring, but since they were also an orphanage, they attempted to make it fun and light-hearted.
In Carapace, Alton was removing the sweat of his brow with his sleeve. “Isn't that enough practice? You'll get plenty of it once we're back at the barracks.”
“It’s not enough,” growled Gideon defiantly.
He was angry. All of that effort he had done to show Millie that she was wrong about him not being good enough and she still wanted nothing to do with him. After all of that effort, he was starting to hate himself for still chasing after her. A year of his life, and the three years that were to follow, were a complete waste of time and dignity.
“I need to head to city hall soon,” replied Alton. “Come with me. We'll see if we can find a girl for you on the way there.” Gideon frowned at the thought. “You're a brave man who is shipping off to Braytons, Giddy. Girls are going to be all over you. They're all going to want to be your last good memory of Carapace.”
“I should swear off of women completely,” he grumbled back. He let out a sigh and lowered his sword. “Let's go.” Alton grinned widely as the two of them prepared to set off. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he needed this. Spending time with Gideon was exactly what he needed to set his head on straight.
At Blackmount, Shaw was having a different sort of problem. He had children climbing all over him. They had started to beg for his lessons, but it was all a trap to get him to play with them. Shaw was never fond of children. He had been the youngest in his family, even among his cousins, and never had much experience with them. The most he knew about children was that he was supposed to have them someday.
… Hopefully with Gwyn.
He did regret saying horrible things to Gwyn in the past. They had been assigned to work together because Duxton insisted that Beat was enough of a guard. Beat talked less and didn't complain when the prince wanted to skip out on work. The arrangement worked out well for both of them but less for Shaw.
Gwyn was obvious about her crush. He tried to skirt around the issue at first, but she ambushed him in his room one night and pulled off her jacket to reveal... Nothing, actually. She wasn't wearing anything.
She was, and still is, a beautiful woman. The bridal dolls of Fogbloom were raised to be the most desirable in all of Lustro. Gwyn had the talent and looks to surpass them. He couldn't find himself a reason to say no at that point. However, he felt so guilty about the incident afterward that he said cruel things in hopes she wouldn't put herself in that situation again. At the time, he had no intention of courting anyone. It felt like the best course of action.
Sena had been encouraged to become a doll, like their mother, but she found comfort in trying her best to help others. She came from a long line of paladins and powerful elementalists. Even if she had no magic herself, she wanted those of the Arbutus family to take pride in her. Though unintentional, the courage that Shaw had admired so much would lead to her death.
Shaw couldn’t stand the sight of Gwyn tossing away the opportunities like Braytons just so she could be a doll for him. Sena’s strength had made him acknowledge what women were capable of. Yet, in the end, he used Gwyn. There wasn’t a way to put it. He was just as guilty of continuing on the tradition of man and doll.
He couldn’t find a way to apologize to her without showing the anger he had for himself. That guilt of his would only deepen after he discovered her past as a slave. It made him worry if he would ever be able to provide a future that she was worthy of.
Now Shaw was having a moral crisis while being covered in children. He couldn't decide if it was right to pursue a woman he had treated so poorly, or if he should give up and encourage her to be a warrior. Thinking too much about it was causing him to hyperventilate. As Sybil and Vincent approached, he gave them a pleading look. Enough was enough. These heartless minions had broken him.
“Help me,” he gasped out.
Vincent spoke in an authoritative yet cheerful tone. “Your teacher has all of your snacks put together. Biscuits with berry jam and clotted cream! A healthy meal for growing warriors! Run along now and drink plenty of milk! And remember that it’s important to drink lots of water during hot weather!”
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“Look at you, being all good with kids and stuff.” Sybil smirked as they ran off. Her eyes followed them for a moment, then she shook her head. The biscuits were for the children, not her.
“I volunteered often within the children’s ward at my family’s hospital,” replied Vincent. “I would play with the ones who were strong enough and read to those who weren’t. It was my duty to provide the role of big brother during their troubled times.”
Sybil's smirk grew wider as Shaw uncomfortably rearranged his clothes. “Paladins are such great role models,” she remarked in a half sarcastic tone. “But we’re, unfortunately, not here to play. I'm done sorting through my meetings. We can head back to the estate now.”
A few days had passed since the kidnapping attempt. Sybil was allowed freedom as long as Vincent was by her side. Nothing about her schedule had changed and she was grateful for it. She was still in charge of listening to the concerns of the people. Her role was to deliberate each problem and come up with a solution.
First, there was a man who claimed he owned a lamb because its mother had delivered it on his property. Then there was a baker who complained the flour she was receiving had been tainted with sawdust, followed by a man who claimed that the previous owner of his land owed him a new horse. His had broken a leg while plowing the rocky terrain. He had no idea there were so many rocks were there and wanted compensation.
Duxton hated dealing with this sort of work. Anyone with half a brain could solve these problems on their own. He trusted Sybil to at least have half a brain. The prince was too busy working on the estate to care much about what she did. Only a handful of essential staff was allowed to return, but the rest were fired. Most of his day was spent hidden away in his room. Whatever he was doing, his sudden reclusive nature pleased Sybil..
He was waiting for the group near the entrance of the manner. The moment Sybil was in his line of sight, he held out his hand. “Report.”
Sybil had written down her entire day in a notebook. That included all of the details of people's complaints and her solutions for them. Duxton would never intervene with her decisions, but he insisted on discussing them with her. Then he would belittle her for her choices. He did a lot of belittling as of late. This was simply normal for him and Sybil had no choice but to expect it.
“Come on.” Duxton tilted his head in the direction of the upstairs office. They headed there and Duxton sat at his desk while Sybil sat in a nearby chair. “What do you plan to do about the flour issue?”
“I’m a little confused. Both flour and sawdust are plant-based.” Sybil poked her fingers together. “I'm not sure how to come up with a test that can tell the difference.”
Duxton set the journal down. “The flour mills are in Greenmount. Wheat is a choice crop in the southern area of Duke Sickleson's region, as it grows quite steadily here. They supply at least one-third of all of the wheat consumed within Lustro.” Standing up, he walked over and flicked her forehead.
“... Ow.”
“The bakery is next to a carpentry shop. She is the one tainting the flour. A customer of hers got sick, likely from some resin or chemical stain that ended up mixed in with the dust. She chose to blame her supplier rather than obliterate her good name.”
“You don't know that. It could be a coincidence.” Sybil frowned as he flicked her again.
“What three goods serve as the main imports here?”
She furrowed her brow and looked off to the side in thought. “Salt, linen, and lumber.”
“Exactly. The native trees in this region make for poor lumber. Nearly every building is made of either brick or stone cut from the quarries. Only the richer estates use wood. Lumber is more valuable than metal. They won’t even burn it to stay warm. There simply isn’t enough sawdust in the area to be used for tainted products.
The baker complained that her sales were down due to another bakery opening up nearby. She had to drop prices in order to survive. There's always victims in business, dear Sybil. A balance needs to be maintained, and someone always suffers because of it. She needed to increase her profits, so she cut her flour. It's as simple as that.”
Sybil looked off to the side with a frown. “I'll ask someone to look into it tomorrow.”
“Good... You're doing a good job.” He knelt down in front of her chair and took her hands into his own. “Do you want a reward?” She shook her head. “Anything you want. Name it.”
She wanted him to let go of her hands. “I don't do these things because I'm in it for a reward, I'm here because I was told it was necessary for my studies.” Her nose scrunched up. “I need to learn how these regions are run so that I may better serve a lord or lady once I graduate.
You and Lady Till seem to think that I need to learn these things so I can be that lord or lady, even though I am in the opinion that both you are wrong. Either way, I'm doing this so I can serve the people of Lustro. I don’t want anything more than that.”
“Are you not happy with your position? I thought we were playing such a fun game. I'm the baron, you're the baroness. We see each other often, but it's a standard arranged marriage with seemingly no emotional attachment or sex. At least, that's how it usually works until the lady warms up to her lord.” He ran a finger along her jawline. “When are you going to warm up to me? Aren’t you lonely, Sybil? I don’t want you to feel lonely.”
“I thought you were going to stop doing that.” She frowned at him as his fingers started to twirl with her hair. Her gaze went to the door as she ignored him.
“If you think I'm going to leave you alone because turning cold on me makes me angry, then you don't understand how this game should be played.”
“If my lord wishes to be an annoyance, then I, as a squire, must allow him to do as such.”
“My, my. What a fun little rule for me to play with,” he said with a purr.
“That isn't a rule I gave you, that's the rule society has placed upon me.” Her eyes flitted to his, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. “What do you think I'm going to do if you decide to abuse that power?”
“Disappear. It's what you're best at, after all.” He smiled as he raised his hands in the air. “Don't put such dark colors on your face. It makes you look matronly. Wear a coral color on your lips for the rest of summer. I like that color on you. It also makes you appear far more innocent than you actually are.” Her face formed a scowl. “You need to give the illusion that you are innocent and pure.
Granted, you're a chained woman who knows the touch of a man. I understand that, but you're young enough that society still wishes to view you as a budding girl who is pure and whose mind is void of how blissful a sinful union can be. Until they are mothers or spinsters, maidens are the bliss of society. You are someone who represents the noble class and you must hold yourself to a higher standard than the poor.”
That sounded stupid and troublesome. The look on her face said that much. “Sure,” she replied.
What color was coral? Was that pink? Lavender? Yellow? Maybe it was yellow. She had worn a yellow dress the other day and he complimented her choice of color. There was a Coral Kingdom, but she had never seen its flag. Surely, it must be a rich looking tone. They had been dealing more and more with merchant ships.
Duxton took her moment of confusion as permission to run his hand through her hair. “Thank you.” A smirk appeared as she swatted his hand. “Let's take a break for the rest of the day and-” He scowled as Shaw opened the door. “You're interrupting. I distinctly remember asking you to not do that.”
“The aide you requested has arrived.” Despite their desperate need for help, Shaw’s posture remained tense. “Should I send him in?”
A voice echoed from the other side of the doorway. “I do not wish to intrude if the prince is busy with prior duties. There is no need to disturb him for my sake.”
“Vex?!” Sybil dashed to the door. She let out an excited squeak and she shoved Shaw out of her way. The paladin took a startled step back. He wasn't used to seeing this side of her, especially the side that had her leaping into Veximarl’s arms.
Veximarl caught her in a hug as she buried her head in his chest. “Sybil?! What has gotten into you?”
“I haven't seen you in years!” Sybil squeezed him tighter. Her voice came out as a half sob. “I've missed you so much!”
“My goodness, Sybil. It hasn't even been three weeks.” Her shoulders shuddered as though she were about to break out into tears of joy. “... I assure you that it hasn't been that long. Standard missions average six weeks in length. You haven't even been away for half that time.” He patted her on the back. “Are you alright?” She shook her head. “How bad has the situation gotten?”
Duxton had folded his arms. The sight of Sybil clinging onto Veximarl so tightly was making him annoyed. “Where are the reinforcements?” He looked over to Shaw.
“... He is the reinforcements.” replied the paladin. “Lady Till sent him to gather information.”
“Then tell him that everything is fine, send him away, and make certain he sends back someone who is actually competent! Paladin Buttonweed doesn't have anything better to do. Why didn't he come?!” Duxton gritted his teeth as Sybil whimpered. She was acting as though he had mistreated her for the entirety of their stay.
Her voice was muffled against the necromancer's chest. “Please don't leave me here. All I do is listen to people complain all day. When it isn't that, I have to smile and grin at the mayor's wives and I only like the one from Greenmount. The one from Redmount keeps flaunting expensive jewelry and the one from Blackmount acts like she's in charge of everything. All she does is stare at me like I don't belong. I don't need her to do that when I already know how out of place I am here.
Then I have to read books all night long and I don’t understand them. Alton isn't here to help me make sense of things and I find Shaw to be very intimidating. Vincent is here, but he also terrifies me, so I'm scared to ask him for help. I don't even know how to talk to him since Zaniyah dumped him. All we do is awkwardly say hello even though he follows me around everywhere.
They don't even let me practice fighting or exercise because apparently muscles and bruises are unsightly on a maiden. I get yelled at once for trying to go out in the garden by myself. They make me dance every day and I’m always being told that my hair and makeup aren’t good enough. There's not anything to work on with my hands here. I halfway tempted to make one of those bombs that Irving taught me, but I can't get my hands on some of the ingredients. The gardener was instructed to not let me get near the fertilizer.”
Veximarl's face was washed with concern. “I don't believe I was sent here to address any of those particular issues, but I am more than happy to help with... Perhaps some of them.” He patted her head. “Please stop thinking about making explosives.”
“My horse ran away. I hate it here but I can't leave without him.” Sybil sniffled and tightened her grip on his clothes as he made an attempt to ease her off of him.
“'One of the bandits who had abducted her last winter attempted to take her again,” explained Shaw. “That was the reason we requested help.”
“... That does seem to be a more pressing issue than any of the ones Sybil listed,” replied Veximarl.
Duxton scoffed. “Precisely. We don’t have the resources to escort her back to the barracks, and I don't trust her with you. Return there and send someone more worthy. Anyone in my year or a knight. In fact, fetch Udell. He’s remarkably competent about this sort of thing.”
“I don't believe there is a reason for me to retrieve reinforcements. Certainly, the militia here is already investigating the issue.” Veximarl looked over to Shaw, who nodded. “I will spend tonight and tomorrow putting together a report for Lady Till. If she sees a need for it, she will send someone else here.”
“That will work.” Duxton firmly tugged on Sybil’s waist, yanking her away from Veximarl in the process. “Come on. It’s time for your dance practice.”
“I thought you said I could take the afternoon off,” whimpered Sybil.
“That was before you nitpicked about every little effort I have put into you!” He grabbed her wrist and began to drag her. “Now you are going to dance until your feet bleed!”
Veximarl blinked. He was feeling overwhelmed. If Sybil was truly against it, she would call for help or misted out of his grip. Unless the prince was using something against her… Suddenly he felt an anger well up from deep inside of him. There was no trusting that man.
“He tends to calm down quickly when it comes to her,” replied Shaw. “And she tends to relieve stress by stomping on his feet.” Shaw gestured down the hall while Veximarl furrowed his brow. “I have a report written up. Come this way and I will answer any of your questions.”
It only took an hour of dancing for Duxton to become bored of having his feet stepped on. He didn't say much. Still annoyed with her, the prince ordered Sybil to go to her room and read until dinnertime. Sybil chose to see Veximarl instead.
Veximarl had been given the room next to hers. They spent the next few hours talking about what was happening both here and the barracks. He checked her vitals to see if anything had changed and found nothing. Though it was odd, he had to agree with Duxton. There wasn’t anything for him to do other than report the situation back to Lady Till.
“The only thing I would suggest is that we see if Lady Blu might know anything about the mystery substance they had you drink.” He put his hand to his chin. “Perhaps blood iron?”
Sybil’s nose crinkled with confusion. “It did taste like blood, but metal doesn’t dissolve like that. I’m not made of acid.”
Veximarl folded his hands and leaned forward in thought. The two of them were sitting cross-legged on his bed. “The ‘soul gems’ that I make are a conversion of blood iron that seeks to capture the essence of the dead,” he eventually said. “Necromancers have the capability of changing the properties of blood iron to suit their purposes.”
She hadn’t seen a necromancer, but she doubted one would openly walk about tossing magic this way and that. “So that’s another thing to worry about?”
He shook his head. “The materials could be processed and kept for years. It could be a relic of the Southern War. All we can do is watch you closely and see if there are any changes.”
“Alright.” Sybil reached forward and grasped onto his hand. “I trust you.”
For the briefest of moments, Veximarl’s smile faltered. He was the one who had encouraged her to take this mission. At that moment, he wished with all his heart that he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.