Valentin clapped for the performance. The Steward excitedly joined him and the rest of the room immediately followed suit. Euna gave Valentin a brief smile and bowed again.
“If my memory serves me correctly, the Temple of the Death Mother Tree is overseen by a coven,” the Steward remarked, mulling over the story.
“Yes, only women druids may be members of the Temple of the Death Mother Tree.” Euna chuckled. “They hate this version of the story because it is a man that survives eating the fruit. The parable that is taught is also markedly different. In their version, Holly falls in love with a woman named Elaine and it is the greed and evil of man that is the downfall of them all. If you ask the neighboring villages they all say it was a man named Olann. What they can’t agree on is whether Catha was a man or woman.”
“Why would the Temple claim such a different story?” Valentin asked with confusion.
“Survival,” Euna answered with a hint of sharpness in her voice. “I sympathize with those women since the story they preach was what they experienced in their own lives. You have to think that something awful happened to drive all these women to a location that has toxic water and poisoned fruit. However, I will not let my local legends be overwritten by outsiders. If they wish to teach their perspective they need to make their own legend.”
Steward Tressavie ate the last few morsels of his dessert. “The meal was within expectations and I have no complaints.” The man wiped his face and rose to his feet. “Unfortunately no manner of entertainment could fix the atmosphere.”
Roland’s eyes widened and he looked up at the Steward.
“A word of advice for the future, Roland. You must exude confidence during a meal. It is widely known in the circles you wish to enter that meals are when it is easiest to surmise a man’s emotions. I felt your nervous energy throughout and your flares of anger. Thank your cooks and your grapes that this is all that I had to say about the experience.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, Your Eminence,” Roland bowed. Valentin could not see his father’s face, but it likely contained great shame.
“My other wagons should have arrived. I must arrange my bed satisfactorily within the guest abode,” Steward Tressavie dismissed himself from the meal.
“You brought an entire bed with you?” Valentin asked, eyes wide with amazement.
“I have brought much more than a bed with me, dear boy. I cannot sleep soundly without everything placed properly,” the Steward replied.
“Steward Tressavie, allow me to assist you with your arrangements,” Valentin’s mother offered, rising from her seat.
“Thank you Madame Marion, it would be most appreciated,” the Steward replied graciously. The two quietly departed leaving the remaining six in the room.
Roland looked up from his downturned posture. His face no longer possessed the surprise or discomfort as it had just moments before. Instead, what remained was something that lacked emotion entirely.
It was not something foreign to Valentin. His father rarely showed his true emotions to those he needed to impress or negotiate with. He could be anywhere from overly amicable to tyrannical depending on the need before him. Every time, once the other part left, he would briefly return to this unnatural visage. Valentin had still not quite got used to it, nor could he replicate it when his father tried to teach him.
While Valentin was pondering about his father, he felt two arms wrap around him and forcibly drag him from his cushion. Jeanne pulled the reluctant boy to her chest in an embrace.
“Uncle Gilles, help me. I’m being taken against my will!” Valentin called towards his uncle.
“There are some things that I need to check over before tomorrow. You are brave, you can handle this,” The man that Valentin believed was his gallant and strong uncle answered. He stood up and made his way to the door.
Traitor. Uncle Gilles told Valentin stories of combat and warriors refusing to leave their sworn deg mates behind. They would fight with the wounded draped over their shoulders like capes. But there he went out the door, leaving Valentin to fend for himself against a difficult foe who had him ambushed. Gilles has shown his true colors, he is now an enemy.
“Quit squirming,” his assailant ordered, constricting the grip around him. “There is nobody around for you to feel ashamed in front of.”
“Unhand me! I am soon to be a man!” Valentin protested.
“Which is exactly why I cannot allow you to escape.”
“I require peace, children.” Roland looked up from his contemplation and shook his head.
Defeat. Additional struggle would not purchase freedom and as such, Valentin had to accept his fate in the hold of his sister. It wasn’t so bad, he supposed. It wasn’t that uncomfortable. But Valentin could not shake the fact that there was danger close by. Vincent shaped danger. However, Valentin’s estimation of Vincent had decreased over the course of this encounter and he feared the suitor less than he had this morning.
“What is it that you’re planning, Roland?” Tiarna Lunoult questioned. “Between you and the troubadour, it is harder to say who provided the greater performance.”
“Bernard, why have you come?” Roland asked plainly, denying Tiarna Lunoult’s line of questioning entirely. “You would not have accepted the Steward’s invitation if you did not have reason. Not only that, you’ve looked more nervous than me during parts of this meal.”
Tiarna Lunoult shifted uncomfortably from side to side as though he were being bitten by numerous unseen insects. His eyes shifted from side to side in paranoia.
“Well, I have still not decided if it is something that I wished to say,” Tiarna Lunoult replied. Valentin noticed that Lunoult did not look well. Much like his son, he had dark circles under his eyes as though he had not slept well in days. His lips were pursed and his shoulders were slumped.
“Is it something that involves me?” Roland wondered. “The Steward’s visit? Killicia?”
“It is not about you, Roland. Nor is there an issue with arrangements for tomorrow,” Tiarna Lunoult replied firmly.
“Then why would you feel the need to come to me about it?” Roland looked puzzled.
This conversation had not gone the way Valentin’s father anticipated. He had likely expected that some issue had arisen with Killicia and required Bernard to appeal to him for support as an affluent member of the region. Instead, he had to patiently wait and coax the words out of the noble.
“I received a…troubling missive days ago. It was an order from above that I could not decipher the intentions of,” Tiarna Lunoult sighed and appeared to have deflated further. “Nor had I ever seen the messenger before in my life.”
“A missive? From where?” Roland seemed more intrigued now and was engaging Tiarna Lunoult fully.
Tiarna Lunoult leaned forwards, once again moving his eyes from side to side.
“I am not permitted to say the origin. Just know that it is from an important individual. One that absolutely cannot be disobeyed,” Tiarna Lunoult answered. He reached down for his cup and took a large swig of wine.
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He mulled the flavor for a moment, allowing his mind to temporarily drift away from that which was troubling him. The pleasure did not take hold for long, as a sobering expression once again took control of his face.
“The origin itself was enough to cause sleepless nights,” Lunoult admitted, drinking again.
“Are you worried about misinterpreting the missive?” Roland’s brows furrowed in contemplation. “If it would help, I could read it and see if I can decipher the intention. Have you brought it with you?”
“Absolutely not!” Lunoult shouted and rose from his cushion.
“Father, please calm down,” Vincent reached his father’s side and cajoled the man back to his seat.
“My apologies,” Lunoult adjusted his jacket sleeves and composed himself. “Part of the order is that I am not allowed to share the contents of it. So instead I will phrase it as a thought, a question. Roland, if a powerful person told you that something will befall your lands and you are to not raise a finger in response. What would you do?”
Roland’s hand drifted up towards his chin. He massaged his face with his hand like he could knead the answers from his skull.
“In what form will this something take? Will it cause harm?” Roland questioned as he went over the situation in his mind.
“You will not know until it occurs,” Tiarna Lunoult answered.
“And you are meant to do nothing about it even if people beg? Even if your warriors threaten mutiny or if your lands are aflame?” Roland continued to question. “All you must do is nothing and that is it?”
“Correct.”
“If the person that sent the order is truly powerful and commands a level of fear, then the answer is quite obvious. Bernard, you must follow the order. There is no amount of unknown harm that will happen that justifies defying power of that degree.” Roland appeared satisfied with his answer.
It made sense to Valentin. If someone told you to do something and you feared the wrath of the person that ordered you, you do the task. There have been many times where his parents told him to do something that he did not wish to do. The fear of punishment always won out.
“Besides,” Roland continued as he noticed that Tiarna Lunoult was not completely convinced. “Fields can regrow, people will continue to be born, and light will come each day. As long as there is still land and people left to rule, then you will be fine. It is not as though this land has never faced hardship before.”
“You make sense, Roland. It is just highly stressful as a ruler to be told that something will happen to your lands and not be told what it is. To not be able to prepare properly. Your mind quickly wanders towards its worst inclinations,” Tiarna Lunoult admitted as he exhaled deeply, convinced by Roland’s words.
The Tiarna stood up. With hands that trembled from unrest, he readjusted his coat and dusted off his clothing. He stood a little taller, the invisible weight draped around his neck no longer strangling him as much as it had been.
“I think I have intruded long enough,” Tiarna Lunoult said. “Come, Vincent, we must return to Roucotte.”
Vincent looked towards Jeanne before he reluctantly obeyed his father’s command and joined his side.
“Follow me to the stables,” Roland beckoned. “I will allow you to borrow some horses for your trip home.”
With that, the three men departed the room leaving Valentin and Jeanne with Euna. The troubadour had been packing her instrument away during the conversation. She sat down at the cushion next to siblings and Valentin felt that he was being judged. He had after all just lost to his sister in front of Euna and he imagined that lowered him in her estimation.
“Are you hungry?” Valentin asked.
“Very,” Euna answered excitedly.
Euna ate wolfishly from the plate that had been provided to her by Maggie. Both the diner and the food were presented without a similar ceremony to the meal that preceded it. Valentin sat in an awkward silence as the woman grabbed morsels from each course and seemed to swallow it almost without chewing.
“Valentin, how did you get into the carriage? Did father really send you to meet the Steward early?” Jeanne’s voice reverberated above his head.
“Uncle Gilles let me leave early and I wanted to see the carriage approach the town. Oh that’s right,” Valentin remarked as he dug into his pouch and revealed the carving. “I ran into Grégoire and he gave me this for Killicia.”
“I thought he didn’t carve anymore. I heard his hands were too unsteady.” Jeanne inspected the carving, noting the quality, and continued her assertion. “It is likely you have the last one he makes.”
“It seems that you are quite the popular boy to be receiving such special gifts,” remarked Euna between bites of food. “How did you enjoy my gift?”
Valentin didn’t feel especially popular. Isn’t it common to provide gifts to all children performing the Bloodstone Ceremony? Valentin attributed his confusion to merely being a difference between the North and the South. In that way, he pitied the children that did not receive anything due to poor tradition.
“Wasn’t it the Steward’s gift?” Valentin asked with a tilt of his head.
“Wasn’t it my performance?” Euna rebutted. “That’s a hallmark of powerful people like Anton Tressavie, I doubt they remember the last time they gave a gift that was the result of their own efforts. But let’s keep that comment between us.”
“You’re quite the bold one, aren’t you?” Jeanne derided. “Saying such rude things about your patron and then requesting silence. Would you also have insulted the ones that fed you if given the chance?”
Euna gave a dismissive chuckle and Valentin felt his sister tense up.
“You misunderstand me. The nature of the troubadour is to have a sharp tongue. I have no contempt for your clan or the Steward. But you must forgive me for saying that after as many encounters with nobility as I have, the allure of those favored classes wanes.”
“Have you traveled to many places? Who was the most important person you met? Is it dangerous going alone?” Valentin rattled question after question and the musician. His eyes gleamed with wonder in the same fashion as they would when Gilles would tell stories of his days as a warrior.
Euna put her hand up, ceasing Valentin’s barrage.
“Slow your questions, boy,” Euna ordered. “We troubadours typically do not travel alone. Instead, we join merchant caravans. Sometimes we travel as a troupe if there is a play or a festival. But that’s not to say I can’t defend myself from the average unfavored.”
Euna paused to take more bites from her meal. She made a small sound of pleasure when she dug into the remaining fish. She swished the remaining meat around the bowl in the hopes of absorbing all the juices that flavored it.
“Typically men like the Steward are as far up the hierarchy that I can reach,” Euna continued. “It’s rare that a High Tiarna will have an audience with a musician of my skill level and forget ever meeting the Storm Sovereign. It’s always branch clans and further relations, local tiarnas, people of those dispositions. I have been throughout most of Northern Strettia, well anything not far off of the main roads that is. I came down to d’Gauval to see if there was any more luck but, based on this experience, it appears to be more of the same.”
“What does that mean?” Jeanne asked defensively.
“Don’t get your hackles up at me. I was referring to the ones that have departed. They hire musicians to perform these obscure music styles. But not to enjoy them. It’s only to boast about to their peers while they sit in their gardens. ‘I just heard a performance in a little known style called, Herican, and you wouldn’t believe what it was about.’ I know when someone is actually listening to my performances and there were very few. So I ask again.” Euna returned her attention to Valentin. “What did you think of my performance?”
“It wasn’t like anything I had heard before,” Valentin confessed. “I didn’t know that an instrument could make such different sounds. But I found the story to be very sad. I was hoping for a happier ending. What did you think, Jeanne?”
“Me? Well I thought it was a pleasant performance,” Jeanne replied thoughtfully. “The part about the poisoned fruit almost spoiled my figs.”
“I think you will be disappointed to know, Young Master, that most stories told end unhappily. The world isn’t that kind and the lessons taught would not stick with you as well if the consequences for the mistake were not severe enough. Or so they say.” Euna had finished her meal and reclined on the wall.
“What would have happened if they had shared the secret to the other villages and Catha? Would they have lived happily?” Valentin wondered aloud, hoping that there was some path that existed that would have deliver the village towards a better ending.
“Who’s to say?” Euna shrugged at the boy’s question. “Find your own meaning out of the story. In my opinion, their greatest mistake was going back to the tree.”
Going back to the tree? Valentin opened his mouth to ask another question but saw that the musician had fallen asleep on the floor. What a carefree woman, Valentin thought to himself. Disinterested in the allure of the nobility and not bound by any obligations.
“Valentin, if there is anything that you learn from this, do not grow to have such a cavalier attitude as this woman. It will not suit you.” Jeanne released Valentin after her warning and rose to her feet. “I will go check on Gilles to see if there are any difficulties. You can stay here and rest.”
“I can work as well, Jeanne. I am no longer a child,” Valentin protested with a pout. He went against his own interests as a matter of personal pride.
“You are a child until the Bloodstone Ceremony is complete,” Jeanne corrected. “Once that is done you will work for the rest of your life. Enjoy this gifted respite.”
Jeanne departed and Valentin slumped against the wall similarly to Euna. Valentin thought it funny that Jeanne did not want him to become like the musician and yet left him with her. Gilles and Jeanne seemed determined to coddle him despite his protests. His father has been acting erratically all week. Strangest still, was the missive that Tiarna Lunoult brought. Perhaps by the end of Killicia, these actions would all make sense. Valentin may just lack the adult clarity to understand what all this really meant. For now, he might as well follow the lead of this woman and nap.