Andrei

The three days aboard the embark from Delphia back to Amalia were productive. I’d translated all fifty-six chapter titles in the ancient Vonsinfonie book, as I was intent on tackling the most intriguing ones first. The book, entitled Fables, Foibles, Facts, and Fallacies seemed to be a collection of memories, detailing the brothers’ travels across the once-connected lands of Auditoria—years in search of stories, fiction or fact.

The legendary bardic Vonsinfonie Brothers, fables no longer.

My duties at the church in Oskari hadn’t done themselves in my absence. Father Belaia was understanding, but he was growing impatient. I’d taken to speaking my sermons on the fly, and I’d fallen behind in my projects. Namely, the curriculum I’d promised the villagers. Because of this, and because I was unsure how to behave around Sinclair after our romantic tryst in Delphia, when she and the Commander invited me to investigate the old building from Delestade’s story, I politely declined.

After concluding the dusk sermon that evening, I worked in the office through the night.

Dawn had come and gone by the time I stopped for a break, and only due to the arrival of a guest in my office. An impressive specimen—a raven-haired Partisan armoured in the likeness of an Amali solider. But where Commander Reider carried Intrepidity on his back, the stranger favoured a pair of short swords.

“Varis, Helena, reporting.”

“To me?” I asked.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “Is the Commander present?”

“The Commander attends business elsewhere. Do you require my assistance or our accommodations until such a time as he returns?”

“Where would you have me stay elsewise, Brother Strauss?”

I suspected the severity of the woman’s topknot prevented any change in expression.

“The Widow’s Peak Inn is lovely,” I said. “The proprietress is generous and I understand the rooms are quite comfortable.”

“You would have me stay among the Barrens?”

“I’m simply providing options, Partisan Varis.”

“Legacy Varis.”

A Legacy—those Partisans who had fulfilled their duty in the field and had reached the retirement age of thirty. Much was explained by this revelation.

“Pardon me. I’m simply providing options, Legacy Varis.”

“Does the Commander stay among the Barrens?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would have you show me to his quarters.”

As we crossed to the northern side of the village, I learned Helena Varis had not been sent simply to see the Commander, but to mate with the Commander. When we stepped through the double doors of the Widow’s Peak, it was empty. The brutish man didn’t stand beside his door, and Ivana was not behind the bar. We climbed the stairs toward the back in silence.

Reider and Sinclair could have taken rooms at the church where they’d have access to sanctuary and counsel, but the Commander believed they should be visible beyond the walls of a Palisade institution, and I suspected Sinclair didn’t have much to say in the way of protest. Theirs were the largest, most luxurious rooms the Peak had to offer. They were also the closest to the stairs, one across the hall from the other.

I wasn’t even certain my companions had returned from their investigation, but I knocked thrice on Reider’s door.

There was no immediate answer, only a panicked rustling from within. Then came the confused cries, and then a shrill shriek.

I tried the door and found it was unlocked.

Behind the door, Rhian Sinclair and Michael Reider stood frozen in a state of undress. Sinclair, at the very least, had found time to put on pants. The Commander held his breastplate over his pelvis. There was a long, drawn silence and the expressions on their faces mirrored mine and the Legacy’s perfectly.

“By the merciful goddess—a pair of animals,” Varis exclaimed.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Sinclair said.

“Seriously,” Michael added. “We didn’t—we would never!”

I clenched my tongue between my teeth and my fists in my over-sized pockets. My feelings for Sinclair were beyond inappropriate—they were not even legal. And while they may have been obvious and overlooked by those closest to us, the Legacy was not such a person. I had to maintain my composure.

There was a similar helplessness in the Strachan who stood speechless for the second time in history. Once, I’d almost mistaken hope for fear, but this time it was undeniable. She was terrified. My fists relaxed, and the Legacy stepped into the room.

“Enforcer Sinclair,” she said. “Get out.”

“Aye—nice seeing you, too, Varis.”

Without gathering the remainder of her belongings, the Strachan scurried across the hall, brushing past me without a word. Two parallel doors slammed and locked simultaneously, and there I stood—alone in the corridor with the blank space on the wall where the portrait of Zacharias Vonsinfonie once was.

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When facing a personal crisis back at Palisade, I’d have nowhere to go but to a different corner of my cell. But as I’d come to learn since arriving in Oskari, a stroll in the great outdoors proved an excellent method for clearing the mind. I walked the path I’d come to favour, twice around the church grounds and south toward the farmlands. It was three quarters of an hour before I saw her. Her brown hair was cut to the chin and her pretty face was framed with feathery bangs. She wore a modest blue dress, faded with wear and pinned at the neck. Her complexion was fairer than the majority of our Amali brethren, and while she walked, she swept the ground in front of her with a sturdy branch. Her eyes were bound with a strip of blue cloth.

“Madam?” I said.

The stranger turned toward the sound of my voice.

“Would you like an escort?” I asked.

The stranger was younger than I’d initially expected. She shuffled forth with an arm outstretched. “Are you speaking to me, Brother?”

“Yes, how did you—?”

“Your accent,” she said, crawling her hand up my chest until she found my face. I was grateful she couldn’t see my surprise, but I was concerned she could feel it. “I knew you were tall, but I didn’t realize you were so tall.”

“Are you new to the village, madam?” I didn’t recognize her from any sermon or service, then again, I’d been distracted lately.

“Oskari is—well, it was—my home. I’m back from the city for my sister.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Oh? Perhaps she and I are acquainted.”

“Well, you might have been, but now she’s dead. I had a messenger tell me she and my niece passed away, and that my nephew has gone missing. I guess it’s better than not knowing, but it felt a bit impersonal, you know?”

“Yes, I completely understand.”

“Anyway, what’s done is done. I just know it was that wretched husband of hers. Always said he was trouble, I did. He’s the one who sent me away, did you know?”

“No, I wasn’t aware. I hadn’t had the chance to get to know your sister well.”

“Well, he sent me away because he said I was trouble. Imagine that. I begged her to come with me to the city, but she wouldn't leave him or that silly house. But I guess she loved him.” The young woman shrugged. “Have you ever been in love, Brother Strauss?”

“We have all, but for Amalia Herself, suffered a loss in your sister’s passing. She was a lovely woman. Please, allow me to escort you to the property?”

The young woman linked her arm with mine. “I’ve been staying at the Widow’s Peak so far, but yeah, I think I’d like to go home. I’m worried about seeing my brother-in-law, though. He might have liked my sister sometimes, but he never even pretended to like me.”

“Your brother-in-law was… killed in an incident, madam.”

“Oh—well, that’s good. It was only a matter of time before his mouth got him in trouble.” She nodded. “You know, you keep calling me madam, but I’m only sixteen.”

“What would you like me to call you?”

“Rose is fine,” she said. “So, are you celibate?”

“Pardon me?”

“Celibate. I might not be able to see, but I hear things. Is it true?”

“Well, ah—Partisans are expected to abstain unless called upon by the Assembly to contribute to our growth. Arranged pairings.”

“Wow, you must be looking forward to that. What’s she like? Is she pretty?”

Had it been anyone else in her place, I’d have stalked off—holy conduct be damned. But her questions were asked with such earnest, and it wasn’t as though I felt she was interested in me romantically. I believed curiosity should be rewarded.

“I am an unsuitable contributor, actually.”

“Ouch. Are you ugly? You didn't feel ugly.”

“Not exactly, but there’s a quota for warrior contributions which surpasses that of the need for scholars.”

While that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth. There was no reason to talk about the fact I was a mixed-breed, and that if we were lucky enough to survive, we were forbidden from procreating. She hadn’t been local long enough to hear the rumours, and she didn’t have the sight to see what they saw.

“That’s depressing,” she said.

“It is necessary.”

“I hear there are five of you Partisans running around here these days, are they unsuitable contributors, too?”

They were not.

The garden in front of the deceased woman’s home had been put to bed in the weeks since her passing, and the neighbours had also taken it upon themselves to seal the windows for the coming winter. The young woman was relieved to be home. For a time, we sat beneath the same tree Reider and Sinclair sat under, and our chat was a welcomed distraction from what happened at the Peak earlier in the day. We spoke of her family, and her adventure to the city, and her efforts to secure a better income for herself. In return, she inquired about Palisade, my youth, and about the strength of my faith.

The conversation continued for the better part of an hour.

Through it all, I wondered if the blindness was the result of a childhood affliction, an accident, or if it was a condition from birth.

To this day, I wonder what she would have said if I'd have asked.

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Since the time we'd first met, Michael Reider rarely sought out my company without Finlay or Sinclair at the helm. But in light of finding him and Sinclair in such a compromising position this morning at the Widow’s Peak, I was unsurprised when he approached the door to my office later that evening.

The Commander stopped at the threshold and peered inside.

I gestured to the seat across from me, and he closed the door before sitting.

“Okay, Strauss, I need you to hear what I have to say, and more importantly, I need you to keep an open mind.”

The man was asking a lot, but I nodded.

As we know, Sinclair and Michael had gone to explore the dilapidated building from Delestade’s story. I was disappointed to learn the old building was potentially linked to the Vonsinfonie Brothers, and I decided I’d explore it on my own in the future. But after reliving his fall through the floor in full colour, Michael described a tavern straight from a Strachan’s nightmares. The skeletons posed around all the tables, he said, were believed to have been Partisans.

Then, if it were not already dramatic enough, he told me the tale of the barman—a lunatic who appeared Barren but possessed the combined abilities of a Partisan. Namely, the flesh regeneration of a Senec, the strength of an Amali, and the speed of a Strachan.

I shook my head. “I trust you both saw the power of an individual unrestrained by fear or reason. The man was clearly insane.”

“Clearly, but he should have died when Rhian killed him.”

“Perhaps she missed?”

The Commander raised his eyebrows.

“Fair enough,” I said. “But the man could be killed?”

“Most things can when you take their heads off.”

“Amalia’s grace, Reider.”

“Yeah, now picture it all again, but picture it with the tavern on fire.”

As it turned out, I would not be exploring the schoolhouse for myself in the future. But for once, I was not the one to blame for reducing a historical building to ash.

“I see,” I said.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“For now.”

“Okay, well—at this point, I’m standing on the bar, punching through the ceiling when a Barren man comes out of nowhere and starts ripping apart the boards. I don’t know if he’s there to help, or hurt, or what, but I tossed Intrepidity through the hole, and that’s the last thing I remember before passing out.”

“That’s quite the story,” I said. “And yet you’re not injured at all, not even your hands which surely must have been bleeding after all that punching.”

“I can’t explain it.” The Commander shook his head. “Rhian and I woke up at the Drop in the middle of the night feeling fine and just as surprised as you are. We filed a report for Councilwoman Faust, bought a few supplies, and walked back to the village to get some sleep. In our own rooms. It couldn’t have been an hour or two before you showed up and found us together. I know we’re not all that close, but Strauss? This is Rhian’s story, too.”

“Then why isn’t she with you?”

I hadn’t meant to come off so cold with the Commander. Finding the two together like that stirred up something—something I didn’t yet have the wisdom or the confidence to overcome. As for his story, I believed him—to an extent. It was too far-fetched to be a complete fabrication, but there had to be a simple explanation.

“Because she’s embarrassed,” he said. “Because she doesn’t remember much about last night either—again. She won’t say it, but she’s freaking out, man. And what’s going on between you two, anyway? I don’t believe for a second you were too busy yesterday to join us.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes.

I blinked mine.

The Commander narrowed his eyes even further.

I bit down on my lower lip.

“Well, spank my chiseled ass and call me Tom. Strauss, you filthy dog.” Michael crossed his arms across his no doubt chiseled chest. “So, how was it?”

“It isn’t like that,” I said. “We—”

“You love each other and it’s wrong, blah, blah—the question still stands, though.”

“Has it really been that obvious?”

“Pretty much. It’s painful to watch.”

I sighed, turning the conversation back to the original topic. I believed my companions experienced a trauma at the schoolhouse. They discovered the bones of several Partisans—some of which may have been acquaintances of theirs. I believed there was a man who was more than likely responsible for slaying said Partisans, and it was also possible that yet another man witnessed the fire from a distance and rushed to their rescue.

But these were nothing more than ordinary men doing extraordinary things. The rest was merely a shared delusion—a side-effect of psychological damage and bruised egos.

“Rhian thinks there might be a defect involved, and that we might be the real targets. She thinks this was all just a plot to get Partisans sent out here so we could be picked off. At first I thought she was paranoid, but what if she’s not? Everything that’s been happening since we’ve arrived is happening to us. The murder Rhian doesn’t remember committing, all the memory loss, everything I just told you about the schoolhouse. On the other hand, the vanishings, villagers dying, the old man sightings, it’s all stopped.”

I hadn’t considered anything like that, and now perhaps you see why we all loved her so fiercely. She saw the world like few others.

“Delestade mentioned he thought someone was trying to kill him—that he felt as though he was being followed. Gregory Keller went insane along the way. When I asked Sinclair about the old case files from Jaska, she implied she couldn’t get them. Do you know why?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “They were already sent to the national archives back home in Leberecht.”