XXIV. HIGH HOPES & HEAVY HEARTS

  Alice sighed as she tightened her cloak; many turned and gave her a second glance at her as she passed. Partially due to her affluent appearance in the middle class section of the city, partially due to her noble carriage. She held the look of aristocracy, beauty and poise in a frame not burdened by manual labor; most of the Sorn refugees in the Mission District wore threadbare garments and quickly stooped out of her way to avoid rebuke. Though the stares were lost on her, they were not lost to Fiora as she hurried to keep up with her friend’s quick pace.

  Fiora kept her hand on her sword hilt, well aware that pickpockets and thieves thrived in times of war and preyed upon the opulent, in this case Alice in her oblivious state of glum. The surrounding homes and street vendors slowly gave way to boutiques and glass storefronts, cafes and brick laid boulevards as they continued their aimless trek through the city's undulating terrain. She grew increasingly self-conscious as the neighborhood became more affluent. Her scale armor tunic and jingled as her heavy boot heels clicked on the pavement. Her hair was a mess of loose curls compared to the adorned locks of silk worn by those around her, her upbringing told her that she did not belong and her every instinct was to turn and return to the comfort and familiarity The Missions provided.

  “Why are you sweating? It’s freezing out here.” Alice said offhandedly.

  Fiora blushed, and pulled her gauntlets up to her elbow. “I just feel so out of place.”

  “Why? You look beautiful, and you’re a soldier. You are my soldier. So you belong wherever it is you think that you don’t, yet somehow I do.”

  Fiora frowned. “Alice, you’re a Countess, I am the daughter of a tailor from Sorn.”

  Alice ignored her friend’s complaints as she scouted for a suitable restaurant or coffee house. Upon spotting a likely place, she tugged on Fiora’s arm, and led her over to the café.

  Various works of art and sculpture filled the dimly lit café, and the hostess came immediately upon spotting Alice and led them to a table. Though she was fluent in Elysian, Fiora remained silent lest her accent betray her, allowing Alice to flounder through the ordering of drinks.

  “Thanks for the help Fiora.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like being from Sorn; these people feel we are inferior because we follow a king without noble bloodlines.” Fiora grumbled. “They feel we are a nation of mongrels and criminals.”

  “You’re far too paranoid.” Alice said with a dismissive wave. “You sound more Aes Sidhean than you may think, and many most likely think you are my bodyguard.”

  “…Still.”

  The waitress brought them a tray with coffee and pastry, and set it down on the table between them. The woman pulled out a pad and stick of charcoal, and asked to take their order in sweet Elysian. Alice obstinately remained silent as she stirred in the milk and cream, leaving Fiora to speak on her behalf. Fiora swore under her breath before addressing the woman in flawless Elysian. The woman wrote down their orders and took off to the kitchen, leaving Fiora flushed in the face; her hands trembled as she added the sugar to her coffee.

  “Oh come now, was it really that stressful? In case you haven’t noticed an angry mob didn’t descend upon us.”

  Fiora furrowed her brow and crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Alice smiled and sipped her coffee, reveling in Fiora’s discomfort. A faint crack in Fiora’s frown caused Alice to raise an eyebrow in concern.

  “It’s good to see you smile again.” Fiora said.

  Alice nearly choked on her coffee. “Why do you say that?”

  Fiora shrugged and glanced about the room, fiddling with her silverware. “I don’t know; you looked down earlier, as if your mind was somewhere else.”

  Alice picked at a pastry as she stared into her still steaming cup. “I miss home. My father, friends, and the life I had. I am the only Aes Sidhean here, aside from Aichlan, but everything outside of Briartach might as well be another country. I mean, I and Aichlan talk occasionally, he tells me of life in Westfaire, but I’ve only passed through that city, and his visits to Briartach were Order related. Or we were both too young for them to make any real impressions.”

  “You talk to that pirate filth as well.” Fiora spat as she leaned back in her chair.

  Alice rolled her eyes and adjusted her glasses. “He’s misunderstood. The war caused a lot of animosity, and he was an unfortunate casualty.”

  Fiora scoffed in disgust. “Just because he says he knew General Garrick doesn’t make him a good man. How do you know he isn’t lying?”

  "Aichlan believes him…” The slight tremor in Alice’s voice betrayed her.

  “I’m not exactly sure he’s a good person either.”

  “That’ll be enough of that.” Alice said definitely.

  Fiora bowed her head. “I mean no disrespect…”

  “But?”

  Fiora paused as she chose her words carefully. “He consorts with cutthroats and rapists. No knight should lower themselves to such a level, even in times such as these.”

  Alice chuckled. “You’ve obviously never been to Westfaire.”

  “I’m serious Alice. Then there’s those three stowaways he picked up.”

  “There were four.” Alice corrected.

  “Aislyn is different.”

  “Because she’s a she right?”

  Fiora went red-faced and sunk into her seat. “No! That’s not it.”

  “I know Aichlan better than anyone in this army,” Alice dumped a spoonful of sugar into her coffee and slowly stirred, “even better than Ashe. He has a unique way of doing things, but he is a just and noble man.”

  Fiora sighed. “It’s obvious he cares for you, he lets you carry on as if you were an officer, though you hold no rank or command any soldiers.”

  “That’s just it; I want a greater role in this. I have always been the daughter, or the Countess, the heiress, or the favored cousin to the king. I am always seen in that light. This city only serves to remind me of it. I went to a shop yesterday and my credit was accepted, they all made such a fuss over me. They did not know who I was despite the fact that I’d frequented that particular shop when father brought me here on business not three years earlier. But they did know where my money was from. That is not what defines me; at least, that’s not what I want to define me. I want to be known by my acts, not my father’s legacy.”

  Fiora was speechless; she had not imagined that such thoughts weighed so heavily upon her friend’s mind. Though Alice was often seen as a pampered gossip, no one doubted her intelligence, but it was still shocking to see her in this light. Fiora struggled to find words of encouragement to dispel the morose mood that befell their table.

  “But that’s not it entirely…” Alice quietly traced the edge of her cup with a delicate finger, “I was so excited to get back to civilization, I thought everything would sort of just fall back into place but…I feel hollow, everything is so alien, when I know in my heart I should feel right at home.”

  Fiora nodded, she had felt similarly. Despite things being relatively quiet, she still could not get a decent night’s sleep, she was always on edge and the crowds of carefree people caused her more anxiety than they should. Even though they had been fighting for their lives up until this point, everything outside of Marquez’s walls just seemed to make more sense somehow. Fiora was about to voice her concerns when she noticed a young woman staring at them from an adjacent table, she wore the academy dress as did Alice, but her russet hair was disheveled and bore the look of a traveler who slept under a canopy of stars rather than that of a hotel bed. Alice noticed Fiora’s distracted look, and followed her gaze to the disheveled mage with astonishment.

  “Oh! Hello. Are you from the academy as well?” Alice inquired with newfound energy.

  “Yes, I just started my tour. I haven’t seen you around, forgive me for staring.” The woman bowed her head, blushing in embarrassment.

  “No, no! It’s quite alright! I thought that I was the only one foolish enough to get caught up in this mess! How long have you been here?”

  “I’ve been here since the war began; the others mostly came from Sorn and Arlien. But many others were here already, but became trapped as it were.”

  Alice was even more taken aback upon learning that there were more. “How many others? Who are they?”

  “Where are my manners?” The young mage curtsied clumsily, “My name is Cheryl, I studied geomancy. You see I wanted to help my family farm in Agrardya.”

  “Charmed,” Alice held out her hand, “my name is Alice Templeton, I studied elementals. How many others are there exactly?”

  The young woman tapped her chin as she turned her eyes to the ceiling in thought. “Oh, let’s see… over a hundred I’m certain. We all met up by chance see, a couple of us got together to pool our resources. Those like me sold our particular skills, some of the others were—“

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “We must meet them!” The exuberance of Alice’s exclamation shocked the woman and most of the café patrons.

  “Well I can introduce you to the group I travel with, but the others are not so easy to get a hold of. What rank are you anyhow? I’m a brown leaf.”

  Alice’s excitement was briefly halted at the unknown title. “Is that a title exclusive to geomancers?”

  Cheryl shrugged in response. “I don’t know, maybe. We should probably get going though. I got work in a couple of hours.”

* * *

  Cheryl shoved aside a piece of plywood that served as the door for the derelict cottage she called home. Alice cringed as they entered the dingy, musty abode, their shoes crunched on broken glass and long dead leaves that carpeted the floor. Several buckets and chipped bowls were arranged under water stains on the roof. The home was most likely abandoned and the group had chosen to move in lacking funds for a proper board.

  “This is the den; we tend to congregate here as it has the least amount of drafts.”

  The den was furnished with salvaged furniture, the windows covered in scraps of sheets and blankets. Young men and women with dirty faces in the academy uniform were sprawled out on the sofas, or leaned against the walls, eyeing Fiora and Alice suspiciously as they entered their domain.

  “This is absolute squalor…” Alice muttered, leery of the filth around her.

  “Thanks, come into our house and talk shit about it. Stay as long as you like.” A young man with a Thiudorican accent said sarcastically. “Stay as long as you like.”

  “How long have you been, here?”

  “It depends on who you ask.” Cheryl kissed a boy on the lips as she took a seat next to him.

  “Doesn’t the academy help you in some way?” Fiora asked, “Surely they can’t just set their students free to fend for themselves?”

  “That’s actually exactly what they do Fiora.” Alice replied sadly. “Those in positions such as myself usually receive an all-expense paid world tour as it were from a wealthy family, others must work to survive. It truly is an unbalanced system.”

  “What logic is there to that? There should be some sort of guidance, or at least a form of boarding provided while they search for, whatever it is they send you all out to search for.” Fiora said, seeming to take the plight of the mages personally.

  “They’d probably tack it onto tuition, Asketill is part of the instructor’s guild, and there’s no way they’d agree to extra duty without a pay raise.” A young woman added.

  “Regardless,” Alice carefully stepped around a mysterious stain on the floor, “I cannot allow you all to stay here any longer, we need to find the rest and get you all proper lodgings.”

  “Alice, perhaps you shouldn’t make such promises…”

  “No, Aichlan will find a place for them.”

  Alice smiled prettily as she looked upon the indifferent faces of her colleagues. Hoping that she could indeed provide all that she promised.

* * *

  Laelianus drummed his rings upon the table, his mind wandered as Lucien folded his napkin on his plate, signaling he was finished with the meal. A servant standing sentry behind him quickly bussed his plate as another arrived with a cup of cappuccino.

  “Her appointment won’t stand; of that I am certain.”

  Laelianus grunted, not really paying much attention. “Is that so…”

  Lucien nodded and dipped his fingers into a bowl of warm water that was placed before him. “Aichlan truly has no say in the matter, the authority he has is over The Knights of The Order, not the clerics.”

  Lucien held up his hands for the servant to dry. “She has a reputation in this city as well, with your letter of recommendation, I can have her removed.”

  The servant dabbed the corners of his mouth as he finished. Laelianus chuckled at the display; the man reminded him of a pampered sow, an embodiment of all that was wrong in The Order.

  “She does have a reputation, though not what you may think. She is publicly well received, having done quite a lot of charity work.” Laelianus brusquely dismissed the servant offering coffee. “The church may want nothing to do with her, but she is too… popular. Both amongst the working class and high society circles. I doubt they’ll challenge her, so long as they can continue business as usual.”

  “Hmm. I sense some underlying connotations in that statement your majesty.” Lucien frowned.

  “Are you a clairvoyant now?” Laelianus barked, having no patience for the bishop. “She will stay, but will she talk? That is all that concerns me.”

  Lucien seemed to ponder the situation, though likely he was carefully picking his words. “You know her past. If she were to remain in such a public view, her former pimps may seek vengeance and reclaim their merchandise or worse. She is in danger here your majesty.” Lucien said with disgusting sincerity.

  “Such flimsy pretense will hardly be adequate. Not with her two watchmen, that fire breathing savage and the other with the demon eyes.”

  Lucien flashed an innocent smile of bewilderment. “I am afraid I don’t quite catch your meaning.”

  “Of course not.” Laelianus chuckled, seething contempt for the bishop.

  “But I am at a loss, what do you suggest?”

  Laelianus smirked. “I suggest we take a stroll.”

  “What the devil for?” Lucien replied as if Laelianus had asked him something incredibly offensive.

  “It helps me think.” Laelianus stood and stretched. “And I have other matters to attend, war councils and the like.”

  Lucien reluctantly rose and followed Laelianus out to the hallway. “It is my understanding that you and Aichlan served as knights of The Order together.” Lucien began conversationally.

  “That is true.” Laelianus said, sensing the ulterior motives.

  “Your majesty, if I may say, this situation is quite complex and unique to say the least. Certain loyalties one may have must be staved off for the greater good.”

   Laelianus stopped abruptly, and turned to face the overweight bishop. “Do you understand the complexity and uniqueness of this situation Lucien?”

  “My apologies, I did not mean to offend your majesty…”

  “Answer the question.” Laelianus said coldly, ignoring the man’s apologies. “Do you know everything there is to know about this unique and complex situation?”

  His tone was menacing and laced with underlying threats, causing the bishop to shrink back, nearly toppling a bust on a pedestal.

  “No your majesty.”

  “Then don’t question me or my decision regarding any of it. Despite your personal feud, you know full well of Aichlan’s competency and sense of duty, in spite of his methods.” Laelianus finished and continued on at a brisk pace. “Or perhaps because of them, who the devil knows with that man.”

  “Again my apologies, your majesty.” Lucien puffed breathlessly as he hurried to catch up.

  Laelianus halted abruptly, causing Lucien to run into him. “Ah, lord Aichlan. We were just speaking of you.”

  Aichlan glared at Lucien, then turned back to Laelianus. “That explains the ice that just gripped my heart. We still convene tomorrow at eleven do we not your majesty?”

  “Yes, yes, I haven’t forgotten. By the way, you haven’t seen the Lady Cardinal around have you?”

  Aichlan blushed, a bit embarrassed. “She has gone off to procure supplies.” He lied, though only a half-truth.

  Laelianus grinned knowingly. “That woman sure can shop. Well, give her my regards.” Laelianus nodded, looking them each in the eyes. “Aichlan, Lucien.” He then made a hasty retreat before either could protest.

  “So like a woman, hardly fit for the role.”

  Aichlan made a sound of disgust and began walking away, Lucien, regrettably, followed. “Who’s heard of a woman Cardinal anyhow?”

  “It certainly isn’t unheard of.” Aichlan retorted dryly.

“It certainly is for that woman!”

  “She does the job better than most men. She actually cares about people, not politics or the unquenchable thirst for power.”

  Lucien scoffed. “Women are weak and overly sensitive. They can’t be trusted to make tough decisions.”

  Aichlan paused and turned to face Lucien. “What the hell is this about, really?”

  Lucien drew himself up as best he could, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. “By all accounts I should hold the position and you know it.”

  Aichlan shook his head, a sly grin on his face. “It is because you wanted it that you are undeserving.”

  Lucien’s face was beet red as he trembled with rage. “So you give it to some whore to spite me?”

  “And here you are, aid to a Priestess you honor, nay worship.” Aichlan chuckled, pleased to have gotten a rise out of Lucien. “Your chauvinistic ideals confuse me Lucien. Women bring life--”

  Lucien threw his hands up in disgust. “Of course! You impregnate some savage whore and now you hold this sanctimonious view on the female race!”

  Aichlan chuckled again as he looked down at his boot, as he absently kicked at the tile. With the speed of a serpent’s strike, his arm lashed out and backhanded Lucien full in the mouth, knocking the stunned bishop on his ass with a whimper. Aichlan kneeled down to look him in the eyes. The bishop flinched as Aichlan pointed a finger in his face.

  “You will not insult the mother of my child.” Aichlan’s voice was like the hangman’s footsteps drawing nearer. “You can argue my politics all you wish, but my family stays out of it. When you cast out civility and act as a cur, then so shall I. Are we in agreement?”

  Lucien wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and nodded though avoiding Aichlan’s gaze. Aichlan looked the man over for signs of insincerity before standing.

  “As I was saying--,” Aichlan continued as Lucien struggled to his feet. “Your views are especially confusing as nearly all a man does he does to gain a woman’s favor. You included.”

  Aichlan had stumbled upon Lucien’s poorly concealed bastard family years earlier. There was no conceivable reason he should have been able to bed anything. Though technically it was not he who did it but the office he held.

  “Such a crass and reductive answer. I expected better of you.” Lucien dusted himself off, his eyes burning daggers of hate restrained in sheaths of fear. “A woman’s place is in the cloister or in the home. Not the battlefield.”

  Aichlan laughed aloud as he imagined Ashe’s response to Lucien’s words. “I know many women who fight as good as or better than their male counterparts. Most of them are in this army.”

  Lucien drew upon the power of Dawn to mend his split lip. “Folly on your part. They are feeble minded, petty and emotionally overwrought.”

  Aichlan wished to tell him that these were traits that he himself possessed, but held his tongue. If need be he could pop the bishop in the mouth again.

  “The battlefield is no place for a woman,” Lucien continued, as if he had not been on his ass just seconds earlier. “They are to be protected, not protectors.”

  Aichlan shook his head, looking at Lucien with confusion and disgust. “The logic of such thinking is beyond me, the women of my army have gained their positions based upon skill. That’s all Lucien. Ability.”

  “That is debatable, what of that violet haired broad?”

  Aichlan shrugged. “Fight her and see.”

  Lucien waved his hand dismissively at Aichlan. “Women have always been in the rear. They are easier to protect that way.”

  “I’m done arguing Lucien.” Aichlan said with unbridled contempt for the pudgy bishop.

  Lucien opened his mouth to protest further, but stopped as Aichlan abruptly turned to leave with a dismissive wave of the hand.