Aiela

Three days later, Aiela stood in front of a healed man. Unfortunately, she also stared into the eyes of a broken man. William Carver sat in bed in front of her, the glow in his eyes gone like a firefly whose life ended too soon.

She had come with Vosmer to assess William's condition, opting to leave Venza behind until they were sure he was well.

Frankly, Aiela was glad they hadn't brought her.

William's healing could have been considered a success: He'd regained motor function in his right arm. However, it was also a failure. The goal had been to get his arm to a state where he could resume work, but while William Carver could move his hand, flex his fingers, his grip did not have the strength it used to. He could not hold a spoon for long, much less a weapon as heavy as a mace.

Four days ago, he'd been a Sergeant in the Grey Guard, leading his own unit of macemen. Today, he had no idea how he would support his family.

"We Carvers have always been soldiers," he said, his voice hoarse. He looked to her, and then to Vosmer, as if seeking an answer. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Fortunately, Aiela had prepared for this. She'd even spoken to Vosmer in advance. Normally, House Greyfield would have given him a small endowment to help him feed his family for a month or two.

But she knew if Venza ever found out the man who risked his life for her had wound up in such a sorry state, the girl would be crushed. And so would any potential Oma had seen in her. Besides, Lord Greyfield felt as guilty as his daughter did.

"Actually, young Aiela here had an idea," Vosmer said. "House Greyfield currently has an untended farm on the outskirts of Verdeholm. If you wish, we can place you in charge of it."

"You'd give me land?" William asked, shocked.

"No," Vosmer answered. "Let me clarify. There is a farmhouse there and some land. You and your family may live there and care for it, but it will still belong to House Greyfield. You may keep most of what you earn from farming, but the rest goes to House Greyfield."

With a pained expression, Vosmer added, “Normally, we would have given you the land outright, but Lord Greyfield has many critics at the Imperial Court. It pains us all to say this, but if he were to suddenly grant a commoner a noble title-”

Vosmer sighed. “Well, his rivals are always trying to make it seem like he’s about to start a coup.”

“Oh no, sir. I am happy to take this reward,” William said. Then his face sank. "But I don't know the first thing about farming," he admitted.

"I can teach you," Aiela said. "Some of it, anyway. But more importantly you don't need to do all the farming yourself."

"She's right," Vosmer added. "You have a talent for keeping a disciplined unit. I'm sure it would translate well to managing farmhands. What do you say?"

"Hang on," Aiela interjected. "There are a couple of things, if you choose to accept."

William quirked an eyebrow at her. Not for the first time since they'd met, he gave off the sense that she completely baffled him. She found it rather enjoyable.

"If you accept this," Aiela continued, "Officially, we will say you decided to retire after your brush with death. You will refrain from mentioning you had to retire due to your injury. Moreover, officially, it’ll sound like you were hired to manage the farm."

"No problem there, Miss, Lieutenant," he said to each of them in turn.

"Second," Aiela pressed on, ignoring the odd look Vosmer was giving her because she hadn't discussed this part with him, "I will be providing you some seeds in the coming weeks. I would like you to report how they turn out."

"What kinda seeds?" William asked.

"Not sure yet," Aiela admitted. She still needed to procure them after all. "Rest assured, it should be no trouble."

"Well, you heard her," Vosmer said. "What will it be, Will? Do you accept stewardship of Lucius' farmhouse?"

William smiled, his teeth clearly visible. His right arm tried to form a fist to salute Vosmer, but it could not. Regardless, he said, "Aye, Lieutenant. My family and I gladly accept."

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On their walk back from the Temple of the Four, Vosmer finally asked her the question that had been burning in his mind.

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"What seeds were you talking about?" he asked.

She glanced at him briefly before answering, "Seeds enhanced by magic. To help Astamarr."

"Why didn't you clear it with me before?"

"I forgo-" the look in his eyes stopped him. For the majority of their time together, she'd known him as Vosmer, friend to House Greyfield. He was kindly and seemed to care deeply for those he held dear.

The Adam Vosmer looking at her now was the man who'd faced the Bloodbeaks using the weapon she'd enchanted. He was the man who'd torn through a swarm of monsters and gotten out of it nearly unscathed.

"Don't pretend," he said, his tone even, but full of danger.

Despite herself, Aiela flinched. She had nearly forgotten that this kindly middle-aged man was a seasoned killer.

"Sorry," she said. "But that's exactly why."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission," she answered. "But do not worry. What I'm doing is definitely for Astamarr's benefit."

"Why?"

"I'll be staying in this region for quite a while," she answered. It was the truth. "Why not leave it better than I found it?"

Vosmer's expression softened, and he heaved a sigh. "I can tell you're not lying. But I'm pretty sure you're hiding something."

"What will you do?" she asked.

"I'll keep an eye on you, of course," Vosmer answered, grinning behind his mustache. "It's not like I've never done anything behind Lucius' back to protect him."

"Then we are more alike than I thought," Aiela said.

Vosmer let out a loud laugh, loud enough that nearby civilians stopped and stared. When he finally calmed down, he said, "In some ways, perhaps. But in others, not at all. If Venza's to succeed, she'll need someone like you and me."

"This almost sounds like you're going to mentor me," Aiela pointed out.

"That's exactly what it is," Vosmer said. "There's no textbook you can read or academy you can attend for what you're trying to do, but I'll do my best."

Aiela snickered, lips curling into a smirk. "That's fine as long as I have a good teacher. And I already know what I want to ask."

“Oh?” Vosmer said. “What might that be?”

“What exactly is stopping Venza from succeeding her father?”

“You’ve resolved to help her but you don’t know?” Vosmer asked, looking confused.

“I have an idea,” Aiela clarified. “But I must admit I’m not great at politics. Why exactly can Venza be Heir but not Lord Marshall?”

“I think Lucius might have mentioned it, but the office is not tied to blood,” Vosmer explained. “Lord Marshall is a position appointed by the Emperor. It just so happens that for several generations, the title has gone to House Greyfield.”

“I’m surprised women are allowed to inherit land at all,” Aiela said.

“A fairly recent development,” Vosmer explained. “Partly because the Queen hails from a matriarchal country, but more importantly, the Emperor has no sons, either.”

“Of course,” Aiela said, rolling her eyes. “The rules change whenever it suits the ruling family. So because the imperial princesses don’t need to be in the military, Venza can inherit rule of Astamarr but she cannot continue her father’s legacy.”

“Correct. Moreover, Venza is a mage that cannot use magic.”

Aiela quirked an eyebrow. “Why is that a problem? Lord Greyfield isn’t a mage, either. He relies entirely on his Revenant Arm and magical equipment.”

“What do you know about Revenant Arms?” Vosmer asked.

“They’re special enchanted weapons granted by the Imperial Family,” Aiela said. “And no one besides their appointed enchanters knows how to make one.”

“Well, a little-known fact is that mages aren’t allowed to have Revenant Arms,” Vosmer explained.

“Why not?”

Vosmer shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Her wish sounds childish, then,” Aiela said bluntly. “She’s already set to be a noblewoman of renown. Why covet a position that demands you be away and fighting to expand an Empire when you aren’t born to it?”

“You already know the answer to that,” Vosmer told her. “Venza doesn’t see it that way. Lucius spent his career becoming a hero to the people of the Empire. She sees him coming to the people’s aid and wants to be just like him. It is idealistic, perhaps even childish, but she wants to do it for the right reasons. The same ones her father did.”

“Then Lord Lucius only has himself to blame for how Venza is,” Aiela commented.

Vosmer chuckled at that. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. What about you, then?”

“What about me?”

“What exactly are you trying to achieve?” Vosmer asked her.

“Me?” Aiela scoffed. “That should be obvious. I’m trying to become a god.”

Vosmer burst out laughing. “Now, who’s being childish?”