At this time, these two separate timelines have aligned in a curious manner. So far, everything has largely been within the realm of expectations, concerning behavior between the nobility and at war. But at this time in the feast, and prior at the corresponding point of the rebellion, both parties found themselves shocked by the unexpected arrival of a woman.
Beginning with the feast, for it is both more important to the ultimate history of Vassermark, maneuverings had begun from the royal family. Namely, the king invited Lucius to stand before his table and regale him with the war. The story had to be repeated, not the least of which reason was because the king wanted to hear it himself but because King Arandall interrogated him on matters of tactic and strategy. Questions were posed and reiterated. Hypotheticals examined. Both dukes were drawn into it, throwing their own biases at the problem. The boy held his own against them, often shielding his actions with the strangeness of the wastelanders. An unshakeable corps of veterans can always do wonders for maintaining morale among lesser men.
But very few people in the hall could actually hear the conversation over the din of talk and of song. Instead they watched. They judged the expressions of the most powerful men in the kingdom. And among those people, Felicia vi Raymi sulked. She had barely taken her eyes off Lucius while he sat at the Ashe family table and she kept them on him as he spoke to the king. Her meal had been primarily wine, though her plate was covered in shredded meat from the dozen or so attempts she had made of rousing her appetite.
“I’d say he was some kind of eunuch if I didn’t know better,” the raven haired beauty said as she leaned on the arm of her chair, drawing close to Aria vi Solhart.
“Ley please, if you were invited to dine at the table of the Ashe family or the Feugards, would you say no?”
Felicia sneered, glancing at the other people at her family’s table whom had wisely given her space. “I’d say no to the Feugards.”
“That would be a scandal.”
“You’re a scandal.”
Aria almost choked on her wine. “What?”
“The heiress of the family and you ran off to a war you didn’t even fight in? And it wasn’t even for a husband but your own brother.”
Aria ignored her blush. “You know as well as I that he’s been most peculiar. And one thing led to another. When the assassins started, what was I to do? Travel on my own?”
Felicia sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s the wine talking. If the princess invited me to tea at this point, I’d embarrass myself and then what would happen?”
“She’d tease you,” Aria said, trying to spot Kassandra vi Arandall at the table, but to no avail. “Which might actually become an issue if she thought Frederika was courting my brother.”
“Isn’t she?”
Aria paused, and then the two girls drank together. Neither had the station to barge over and get answers from the Ashe family and both could theoretically wring it out of Lucius later. In Aria’s case, she was confident Aisha would leak the gossip before the night was out. Neither of them were prepared for what happened when Acheliah made her belated appearance to the feast.
Not because of the angel herself. She went right over to the king and trays of desserts were brought out. Acheliah had no attention for anyone else.
The surprise was Gabriel strolling in through the angel’s wake, almost unnoticed. He didn’t take a direct path, but wove around the outskirts of the hall where scurrying servants masked his appearance and they masked the girl he had brought in with him. Felicia didn’t let him pass without a word. So far to the south of the hall, her table was nearly against the wall. The prince had to walk right past her. “My prince, I thought you’d be returning with your sister.”
The blonde youth snorted. “Austin Feugard snuck off with her to watch a melee tournament. I can only hope Father is aware.”
“Who’s this?” Felicia asked, eying the short girl beside him who looked awestruck to be in the room. “Normally you bring your… Kajsa?”
“Lady Raymi, I didn’t expect to see you again,” the alchemist said, relief flooding over her as she quickly gravitated away from the prince.
Felicia set her drink down and checked for a servant’s chair but there was none. “I thought you were the star of the gold mine down in the isles. What brings you here?”
The alchemist blushed. “It’s because of my work getting the gold refining again. Master Solhart extended his invitation.”
Gabriel laughed. “I heard the tale when I stepped outside. I just thought it was so kind of Lucius to invite this woman as well.”
For a moment, Felicia’s face darkened but nothing could come of it because all attention became fixated on the clang of Frederika Ashe’s chair as she leapt to her feet and toppled it. Her eyes had locked on Kajsa with an eagle’s precision and to a storm of gossip, she stormed around the feast all. The alchemist reflexively tried to make herself vanish, but the prince happily snatched her by the arm with some empty words about showing appropriate respect to the nobles.
Whatever the prince had expected Frederika to say, and whatever Felicia was preparing to tell the Ashe girl, everyone was floored as Frederika Ashe ignored the prince entirely and asked Kajsa, “Aren’t you Jarnpojke’s friend? From Jarnmark? The little boy who lost his arm.”
Kajsa opened her mouth to answer, but struggled as her natural memories yanked against the bonds that Golden had chained her with almost a year prior. All she could say was, “I’m sorry, I can’t recall.”
Frederika pressed her, sidelining the flabberghasted prince. “He was with the circus before the Ashe family hired him. I’m Frederika Ashe. We’re the same age. He was a bit younger. He had a stigmata that would heal his wounds. It was just like the one Lucius von Solhart has. You remember, don’t you? How could you forget him?”
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Of course, she couldn’t forget him. Not by choice. The poor girl was completely overwhelmed by the assault on her shackled mind. Her stammering ceased to make sense and the pressure overwhelmed her. Her eyes rolled up and her knees went out. Falling into the prince’s arms may have been the dream of thousands of girls across Vassermark, but all involved would have wanted anything but. Still, Frederika turned her pressure on Gabriel. With a few words as precise as a fencer’s thrusts, she needled his chivalry and had him personally carry the girl to a bed in the guest wing given to the Ashe family.
And at just the same time, Lucius was unable to even notice because he was explaining to King Arandall how a one-eyed woman no older than his own son might be the most dangerous enemy in the world to Vassermark. And he knew this despite only crossing paths with her once during the whole rebellion.
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In all the written history of Lumisgard, I believe there are five army commanders that have ever walked directly into the enemy camp and lived to tell about it. It simply is not something that is done in a serious war. I’m of course disregarding disputes of clans and the like, where all involved know one another.
The event I speak of occurred shortly before the time Lucius learned what had happened to Aisha and shortly after Aurum’s rage. The latter I will return to soon, as it ultimately had little effect on the boy’s decisions. The cyclops herself deserted from the rebel army. She didn’t stay long enough to even see Aisha because such a delay would have prevented her arrival prior to news reaching Lucius, and her entire gambit rested on catching him unawares.
Bypassing the scouts around the boy’s army proved trivial. The entire war was an early version of what came to be known as a policing action. To keep up the appearance that Lucius was acting in the best interest of the lawful government, the locals were not kept under martial law. Their own travel was not restricted and thus wagons still trundled through the hills and fields. His army kept their eyes peeled for the glint of steel helms, for the slow rumble of marching boots.
An old man in a wagon traveling with his injured daughter was an event of utter insignificance. Some of them daydreamed about taking her as a wife, but it was the kind of idle musings that infantrymen always had. The only controversy began at the farmhouse Lucius had taken for his own rest.
The boy would have happily slept in a tent like any other soldier, but he had to exert his authority to secure better lodgings for Aria and to be seen doing so. Unfortunately for him, it was her that first heard the woman’s shoutings through the window, because the cyclops had no qualms whatsoever from proudly declaring that she was Lucius’ mistress from Jeameaux and further, “You must either let me in or you will have to explain to him why the mother of his child is out in the wilderness!”
The owners of the house meekly shied out of the room while Aria stared at Lucius and called him a whoremonger. Lupa took a more evenhanded response, asking, “I thought the only woman you spent a night with back then was your sister?”
“Lupa,” the boy said as he rose from the table. He took her hands in his and locked eyes with her. “I know you mean well by that but everyone is going to severely misunderstand what you mean by that. Honestly, it’s probably a spy but I’m curious what their plan could be.”
And so, my dear pupil left the dining table to relieve his confused guards. He opened the door and squinted against the setting sun. “You certainly know how to cause a commotion,” he said.
“Would you have it any other way?” she asked.
And at this moment I must confess that my evidence becomes more in the realm of conjecture. The truth of the matter is locked away in the mind of my pupil, where I will never be able to get it. My personal attention at the time was largely taken up by evading Aurum, so when the boy reflexively threw a boot knife into the heart of my enthralled raven, I was wholly unprepared to find another means of spying. Truth be told, I didn’t even know he was that proficient with a throwing knife. The technique had little synnergy with his regeneration and it wasn’t something Leomund taught him. I think perhaps one of the entertainers down in the Misty Isles taught it to him while he drank himself rotten.
My apologies done, I must now continue my conjecture.
The scourge of Lucius’ military career had, I believe already at this time, abilities beyond what a stigmata can grant. She had accumulated certain blessings and incantations from the surviving angels, and one of them was a form of identity obscurement. I don’t believe it changed her features, but those under its effect would struggle to remember details about her. My evidence for this is chiefly taken from the fallen of Rodrick’s army, but also from Lucius’ recollection. He denied any recognition of her at all, and Golden confirmed his tale.
Lucius dragged her inside like a guard hauling a convict. When Aria tried to ask what was happening, he snapped at her to sit back down. The farmhouse had little by way of privacy and ultimately he dragged the new arrival into the root cellar. Among dangling braids of garlic and fermentation pots, he at last demanded answers from her.
She made him an offer. I know this because it was referenced in their later encounters which I was essentially present for. Perhaps she made it more personal, more seductive, but the crux of what she said was, “Leave the wizard and come with me. You don’t have to be his pawn, Pojke.”
“I’m not his pawn,” he said, and of course he said that. I did more to raise that boy than his own father did.
The cyclops was undeterred. “What you are doing is evil. His hands might be bloodier than yours, but you are marching down a path of destruction with him, because he is spoonfeeding you just enough power that you can deal with the problems you had before you had that power. Then he makes it worse! You’re in a cycle and it’s just going to escalate! Bring your friends if you need to, but leave his machinations behind and come with me.”
“I should go with you? And where would we go? To some bug infested forest? Maybe you’d like to hide in some mountain monastery? Or should we go to the edge of the world where the trolls reign? The only place I want to be is with my friends, with the women I love. And that means keeping them safe.”
“It’s a scam! He is why they aren’t safe! Do you know, right now he is burning half a kingdom to dust. He is running an angel ragged with rage and getting innocent people killed because of his grudge. An angel that has never had anything but good will for us humans. He was a beacon of wisdom and temperance.”
“If Amurabi drew out an angel’s wrath, then they must not have been very temperate, now were they.”
The two of them were in each other’s faces, shouting like bickering siblings. “He killed an angel, Pojke! And that wasn’t the first. You think he only hunts godlings? Parasites? Why do you even think he calls them parasites! It’s because he’s talking about angels that he thinks have abdicated their responsibilities! He’s a killer.”
“So am I!” my boy roared back.
She backed away from him, as if suddenly aware that Lucius could loom over her, that he outweighed her and had spent his years of war on the front line, not scheming from the back. She had one last gambit to sway him, merely asking, “What does he have over you, Pojke?”
“Everything.”
It was the next day that news of Aisha’s abduction reached Lucius, and by then the cyclops had fled much the same way as she had arrived. He let her go, perhaps thinking that she was more dangerous to have around than to have loose, like a venomous snake in one’s bed.
His response to the party of Jeameaux rebels asking for a parlay to negotiate an end to the war, with capitulation from Vassermark, was brutal. Three men had arrived from Rodrick’s army, and he beheaded two of them. The third he sent back to tell the paladin that Lucius von Solhart had made a blood oath. With a dagger given to him his priest–the man didn’t know who Golden truly was–he had cut open his chest and sworn a Giordanan vendetta to have Rodrick’s head and further, if Aisha were to come to harm, he would have the head of every man to stand in the paladin’s army.
This inevitable outcome was why the cyclops abandoned her support. There would be no more strategy, just bloodshed.