macdjord
Well worn.
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Dwarf of Bronze (ZnT/AU)
- Thread starter TotalAbsolutism
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What, slowly bleeding to death as someone taunts you in your own voice? What's so bad about that?
GiftofLove
A Gift From The Heart
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An excellent use of the tea to throw me off the trail! I honestly thought he'd been poisoned up until the reveal. Simply marvelous.
I was wondering what had happened to Saito as well. Good to see you didn't actually forget him.
I was wondering what had happened to Saito as well. Good to see you didn't actually forget him.
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He didn't even taste it before events unfolded. Huehuehue.
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Just gotta git gud.
vyor
Oh that's cute
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It ain't Saito. He doesn't into magic. Him meeting Tabitha is enough to prove that he isn't good enough.
I have no clue what he was doing, but it wasn't that.
GiftofLove
A Gift From The Heart
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Assassin was a master of the Dark Souls roll. Nothing can touch you with the power of I-frames on your side!
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It's funny, but this is closer to the truth than you'll know for quite some time.
Guile
Clothes That Kill Virgins
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Still puttering along behind everybody else. A few thoughts on Chapter 7:
It seems a bit much even for Guiche, given his 'feminist' perspective (that is, he seems like that particular kind of feminist who puts women up on pedestals and idolizes them for their supposed purity and goodness and oh I wrote a poem for this let me gently serenade you while you delicately inhale the scent of this rose – don't worry, I stripped it of thorns first).
Are they training Guiche for war? Generally speaking I'd expect him to mostly only see combat in fancy mage duels. I guess his dad's a general, and we in the audience know (or suspect, at least) that there's going to be shit going down in Albion and Gallia later.
Why does the magical fantasy dwarf know as much as a modern fitness instructor? Shouldn't he be going on about the body taking in spirits better when lightly battered, but if the damage is too great then the humours get out of balance, or something?
A bit too many he him his hims in there, I'd say.
Was this something that happened during Dwarf of Bronze? From what I remember of canon, Guiche was never heavy-handed towards Siesta, only Saito who intentionally got him in trouble with his girlfriends.
It seems a bit much even for Guiche, given his 'feminist' perspective (that is, he seems like that particular kind of feminist who puts women up on pedestals and idolizes them for their supposed purity and goodness and oh I wrote a poem for this let me gently serenade you while you delicately inhale the scent of this rose – don't worry, I stripped it of thorns first).
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You'd be surprised. There's a lot to be learned about the body from taking it apart!
All joking aside, that's mostly a joke at Guiche's expense; although Kenneth does have a basic understanding of the idea that you need to exercise and then rest to get stronger, and that for some reason healing magic makes it happen more slowly.
This was back during Chapter... Two? He went for lunch with Montmorency and asked one of the maids (Siesta) to bring food to them. She did so, but she also pointed Katie to them when she asked if she'd seen Guiche. He (mistakenly) thought she had done that on purpose and was about to hit her but didn't actually get the chance to.
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A hero! And heroes are always outnumbered. Usually you'd be fighting with a dozen or so monsters at once.
Strunkriindiisk
Best Eldritch G.I.R.L.
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Presumably because it's good practice for teaching him to think on his feet and react quickly. 'Fancy mage duels' or not, you need to be able to react fast to avoid injury and counter.
Also because Guiche wants to be a Hero, entailing forays out into the wider world and real combat situations.
Because Kenneth is a career fighter speaking from experience.
Guile
Clothes That Kill Virgins
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Chapter 8 comments:
Not that Saito would dare to tell a noble her business, of course.
More seriously, I suspect that nobody was expecting this new Saito to be THIS messed up. His servant friends are tools; the nobles are obstacles he is ready and willing to dispose of; his BFF is the foreign spy and assassin.
Is it just me, or did Mott have that bloke arrested to try and divert Kenneth into his own camp? Pretty slick, if so.
Huh. 'Pottle' is indeed a word. Learn something new every day.
I think I see the shape of this arc's theme, now. Good choice starting out with the scene between Guiche and Marteau and moving on to Mott.
Shouldn't a body servant be in an attached room? Maybe the dorms don't have that option.
It is for the best. Louise should really position herself to profit from their demise, first.
Not that Saito would dare to tell a noble her business, of course.
More seriously, I suspect that nobody was expecting this new Saito to be THIS messed up. His servant friends are tools; the nobles are obstacles he is ready and willing to dispose of; his BFF is the foreign spy and assassin.
Seems like a grammatical typo here.
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They're not set up that way, no. That said, I picture Saito's room being something like this.
... yup. Fixed.
There were shades of it in his brief interaction with Karin, and hints at how damaged he was during the brief Louise PoV bit wayback, but yeah... he's fucked up.
Danke. Being able to read it in bursts like this probably helps with putting that sort of thing together.
Interlude - Blood and Wolf
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Although her chain shirt was the only reason that she was alive now it was difficult to say if that was better than the alternative. The two options became increasingly indistinct as she stumbled through thick snow deep in the woods of Albion. Pain exploded through her with every shaky step as she forced herself forward.
It was impossible to not think about her mortality at a time like this. There was, after all, a latticework of thin burns all across her chest. It had only been luck that had prevented her from dying, the unseen bolt of lightning diffusing itself across her hidden armour and searing her skin instead of her heart, she was sure of it; that and holding her breath long enough for him to leave had been pure agony.
She'd been sloppy. Careless. Parts of her were saying that she didn't deserve to survive this. That she ought to just lay down and die. Well bugger all of those stupid insecurities. She had no time for them. By now they'd have absolutely realized she was still alive and her trail wouldn't be hard to follow. If there was an Air Mage amongst those sent to clean up the evidence… but no, they'd use Fire for that.
A tree root beneath the snow caught her foot and she tumbled forward. That wasn't good. Deprived of the momentum that had kept her going her legs simply refused to move. She'd been going forward on sheer force of will alone; hoping against hope that she'd come across a cave or a fallen tree or some form of shelter, of any kind.
So cold.
There were horns in the distance, and the baying of hounds. They'd found her. That was it, then. She reached forward and pushed herself over on to her back. With trembling hands she began to reload her expended pistols; the bolt that had torn into her back had fused and ruined the firing mechanism of her musket.
Not much powder left, and precious few balls as well. Didn't matter. Two pistols… so she could kill one of them out of spite, at least. The dogs were louder, now. One sounded particularly close. If she squinted she could just about make out a black shape in the middle distance. Would they let the animals maul her, or call them off and try and take her prisoner?
Hoofbeats sounded as a rider cleared the horizon. So that's how they caught up to her so quickly. She had no idea how far she'd gone or how long it had been since her escape. As the rider approached she sighted along her arm and closed an eye. Exhale…
Her ears rang as the rider fell backwards. The horse bolted the wrong way for her to try and grasp the reins as it passed, or some such foolishness. It hadn't been much of a hope, really. Just a last ditch thought toward her survival. There was no great lamentation or heavy sigh. Even in this circumstance she wasn't a melodramatic person.
Instead she lifted the other pistol and pressed the barrel against the underside of her chin, cocking it with her thumb. She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing and stilling the tremble of her hands.
"I'm sorry, Henrietta." Perhaps she should say something more. Like how she couldn't keep her promise, or was leaving the Princess' service. But no, there was no point. Nobody was around to hear her final words.
Agnès pulled the trigger, and was rewarded with nothing but a futile click.
Ordinary people run away from gunfire. This is just a fact of the world. However, as her sister frequently said right before becoming teary-eyed and hugging her, she was anything but normal. Perhaps it was just a wandering hunter, in which case she could see if he had any game to buy… a hunter out in these woods in the middle of winter… who was wealthy enough to afford a gun for hunting.
No, even her seemingly boundless optimism had its limits. It was more likely to be soldiers again. The patrols in the area had finally died down recently, after weeks of dodging them in her efforts to pick herbs for medicine and trap what few woodland creatures were still awake for food to supplement their rather bland stockpile.
They were well set for the rest of Winter, and beyond, due to the money that still arrived via clandestine messengers. Every time she got a new purse of coins she tried not to think what her sister was doing to earn the money… what indignities she might have been willing to suffer for the sake of her family.
Even so, when one of the children grew ill she still had to go out in search of the right plants to brew up a basic remedy. Something to soothe sore throats and runny noses, at the very least. For whatever reason she'd never been particularly bothered by the cold and so it was no real trouble… up until she'd heard the gunfire.
When she arrived it was to a bizarre, horrific tableau of red on white. There was one figure lying against a tree and two bodies beside her. A third was in the middle distance, crumpled up on the ground amidst messy hoofprints, and then two more scattered to her left and right. Three men stood around the prone figure and were currently engaged in putting the boot in, as it were.
They weren't wearing a proper uniform but each of them had the red strip that marked them as soldiers under the crimson banner of Reconquista; the new de facto rulers of Albion. Whatever this matter was… her heart ached to see it but she didn't want to interfere. They hadn't noticed her yet and there was nothing she could do for the poor man down there; assuming he was even still alive.
Then one of the men stepped back and she caught a glimpse of their target. She had already moved out from behind the tree and was walking towards them before she could stop herself. One of them heard the crunch of feet on snow and turned to face her. He relaxed a bit on seeing her and opened his mouth, presumably to ward her off.
Whatever he might have been about to say died on his lips as Tiffania pushed back her hood and did her best to glare defiantly at the soldier. It wasn't a very good glare but she could have smiled sweetly at him and it would have had the same effect. The man screamed with abject terror and as his companions looked up they quickly joined him.
The trio practically fell over themselves as they fled. She stood there until they were out of sight and then moved as quickly as she could. First was stripping off as much weight as she could from the injured woman. The chain shirt went and, as it did, she discovered a latticework of bloody welts underneath.
With great distaste, Tiffania took the least bloody cloaks from the dead soldiers and bundled up the unconscious woman. She still had a heartbeat, and was breathing as well, so that was a small mercy. Although she wasn't strong enough to carry her any distance she could drag her relatively smoothly by making a makeshift litter out of the various cloaks… might as well use the bloody ones for that.
The snow made for an easy ride for her patient, at least, She trudged forward as fast as she could, dragging the litter along with her and painfully aware of the trail she was leaving. If this person was even remotely important to them then even the fear of elves wouldn't hold them back for long.
That had been stupid. So, so stupid. Years of careful hiding thrown away for a stranger. It was a truly foolish choice she'd made… but she wouldn't regret it. Maybe the woman was a bad person who deserved what she'd gotten, although knowing the Reconquista she doubted that, but leaving her there like that...
They'd almost reached the orphanage when she heard the dogs. Not that they'd need them to follow her; although, the scent of blood was likely thick along the trail she'd left. She tried to break into a run but it was difficult to build up any momentum while dragging an injured woman. Even then, the best she could do would be to barricade the door. Then, when they got inside, the children…
Not for the first time, Tiffania wished she could do magic. Proper magic, that is. There was her ring, but that was sitting in a small box under her bed safe and sound. Besides, even if she healed the woman there was no guarantee she'd wake up and be able to fight off the soldiers.
In desperation she welled up what energy she could muster and tried to force it out into the world. She focused on the idea of Fire and tried to say the incantations that her sister had taught her. Nothing happened. She tossed power into the yawning abyss and nothing returned to her. The only result was a slight tingling in her joints and a faint tremor of exhaustion across her body.
The pursuers sounded close enough for her to pick out the sounds of hoofbeats kicking up snow. She let the last vestiges of power gathered power trickle away and fell to her knees. Matilda would be so upset when she found out. That was the worst bit, in her mind. All the effort that she'd put forward to help and in the end Tiffania had tossed it all away for the sake of a woman she didn't even know.
She tried one last time, not even knowing what she expected at this point. Gathering strength and prayer as one to cast them forth in the hopes of something, anything, happening. If she could just figure out the trick… but, no. The power flowed out of her and didn't even disturb the snow.
Dogs barked and horses charged as the soldiers grew closer.
A single eyelid lifted to unleash a raging storm. It was contained, however, by the dimensions of the eye beneath; a blizzard contained in a gaze. The owner of the tempest slowly lifted itself from the ground and stared at the intrusion into its home.
There was a tear in the air, an impossible opening in this equally impossible realm. Green light shone around the edges of a colourless hole in space that shimmered and distorted. The beast could feel the call echoing from within in some inexplicable way. A desperate plea of a frightened child.
As it stepped forward a smaller figure all in red shifted with discomfort at the removal of its source of warmth. Shining eyes inched open and met with a pale stare. Something deep and incomprehensible passed between the two entities for a moment that lasted an eternity. Then the beast turned and moved into the portal.
The leader of the raiding party cursed his luck as the wind began to pick up. They had a strong trail from where the woman had killed the first group but even a light squall could bury it in a few inches of snow. Not for the last time he bemoaned the weather, the cold, the damn bitch they were chasing and his unsympathetic superior all in the same breath.
Then, quite suddenly, their horses skidded to a halt. The lead animal reared violently and threw its rider, turning moments later and nearly trampling the man as it ran away. He spat and crossed himself to ward off heresy. Elfin magic, no doubt. Assuming the babbling idiots who'd lost the girl had been telling the truth.
Until that moment he'd doubted they were. There had been no signs of magic where they'd found the five bodies and, by the mens' own accounts, those had been the work of the woman herself. Even half dead she'd killed five of his contingent. The so-called elf that had 'saved' her hadn't killed any. He'd thought they must have run away when she killed the others and made up a story.
Now, though? As he felt the terror in the tensed muscles of the animal underneath him the Captain was reconsidering. He'd rallied to the crimson banner due to the promise of 'redistributed' wealth and titles, not to fight elves. As he considered calling off the chase entirely he heard the sound.
It was a long, powerful howl that pierced the chill air and set every living creature in the group to trembling. The dogs strained at the end of their long tethers but were no longer trying to rush forward in search of prey. No, they were desperately trying to break their bonds and flee into the night. His horse was stamping in place, twitching under him; too well trained to bolt, but not nearly broken enough to go any closer to that sound.
Of greatest concern to the Captain himself, however, was the simple fact that he knew there were no wolves in Albion. Yet that was, unmistakably, the howl of a wolf. What else could it be? No dog could make a sound like that, especially not the local breeds; all lithe and bred for hunting, lacking the stoutness of chest that could cause such a deep sound.
He wanted to tell them to retreat. Surely such creatures would focus on the wounded woman? But no, there was no way this was a coincidence. Some heretical power was at work here. He dismounted and led his horse to a tree, tying it there. Ten men were selected to come with him. Stout soldiers, an extra Noble bastard amongst them, so that made two mages with him included. The rest stayed to guard the horses as they pressed on.
Without the dogs they were reliant on the rapidly disappearing trail and so they did their best to move fast. Neither of them were strong enough in Water to solidify the snow or somesuch, but the other mage was Air aligned with sufficient power to provide them some reprieve from the biting wind.
Something came charging between the trees and he almost flung a fireball at it before he realized it was one of the forward team's horses. Another followed it, and another. Not a single rider between them. The men muttered amongst themselves, tossing out words like 'witchcraft'. He didn't berate them for it; after all, he was feeling much the same.
In the middle distance something white moved. He tried to catch it in his field of vision but it was shifting around the edges constantly. Whatever it was moved fast. They told stories to children about elves taking animal form and stealing naughty kids away if they wandered off the paths, and such, but if you believed everything ascribed to the damn things by folk tales you'd think that a lone one could conquer all of Halkegenia if it wanted to.
He turned to address his men, about to order them to take a rough circle formation, and then froze. A quick bit of mental arithmetic turned up one short, yet he'd definitely selected ten men to come with him. Nine nervous sets of eyes were looking to him for guidance now, though. Who was missing? Well, even if he knew their names how would he tell with everyone bundled up like this.
Then he saw the drops of red hanging in the air. More materialized as a gash opened up in nothingness; white fangs shining against red maw. He was acutely aware of his sword slipping between his fingers as a pair of eyes opened up above the mouth and a warmth that ran down his leg as he realized the magnitude of what they were facing.
The wolf lunged.
When it came for the rest they didn't realize until it was far too late. Even though it towered above the trees each footstep made no more sound than a wisp of fog curling over ice. It stood four men tall and many more than that from nose to tail yet moved with impossible speed and supernatural agility. Crossbow bolts failed to find purchase through thick fur and blades were smacked aside as they tried to fight back.
Even when they turned and ran there was no reprieve. Each man died quickly, but alone. The only sign each of the hunting parties had before being wiped out by the behemoth was the wind it carried with it picking up in its wake and their dogs first trying to flee in terror and then laying down in submission as it arrived in their midst.
When it returned to Tiffania it was accompanied by a score of hounds that followed some distance behind. Each still trembled in the presence of a creature so far above them that it may as well be their god. There was blood on its fur and muzzle. She knew, without a doubt, that it was human. It had killed them. Every last one of them.
It lay down before her and gently pressed his nose against her face. A faint white light still shone beneath the fur of its right paw as it sniffed at her. Then a vast tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth in a silent, canine chuckle.
The dogs dispersed, glad to be free of the monster that had slaughtered their masters. Said beast nudged the young girl out of the way and gently took the edge of the cloth litter in its mouth, lifting the injured woman off the ground and looking expectantly at the girl. Unsure as she was Tiffania still realized it was waiting for her to lead the way. Still shaking but feeling stronger with each step, she pulled herself together and began the slow trudge the rest of the way home.
Feeling mighty pleased with himself, The First Wolf followed behind her.
It was impossible to not think about her mortality at a time like this. There was, after all, a latticework of thin burns all across her chest. It had only been luck that had prevented her from dying, the unseen bolt of lightning diffusing itself across her hidden armour and searing her skin instead of her heart, she was sure of it; that and holding her breath long enough for him to leave had been pure agony.
She'd been sloppy. Careless. Parts of her were saying that she didn't deserve to survive this. That she ought to just lay down and die. Well bugger all of those stupid insecurities. She had no time for them. By now they'd have absolutely realized she was still alive and her trail wouldn't be hard to follow. If there was an Air Mage amongst those sent to clean up the evidence… but no, they'd use Fire for that.
A tree root beneath the snow caught her foot and she tumbled forward. That wasn't good. Deprived of the momentum that had kept her going her legs simply refused to move. She'd been going forward on sheer force of will alone; hoping against hope that she'd come across a cave or a fallen tree or some form of shelter, of any kind.
So cold.
There were horns in the distance, and the baying of hounds. They'd found her. That was it, then. She reached forward and pushed herself over on to her back. With trembling hands she began to reload her expended pistols; the bolt that had torn into her back had fused and ruined the firing mechanism of her musket.
Not much powder left, and precious few balls as well. Didn't matter. Two pistols… so she could kill one of them out of spite, at least. The dogs were louder, now. One sounded particularly close. If she squinted she could just about make out a black shape in the middle distance. Would they let the animals maul her, or call them off and try and take her prisoner?
Hoofbeats sounded as a rider cleared the horizon. So that's how they caught up to her so quickly. She had no idea how far she'd gone or how long it had been since her escape. As the rider approached she sighted along her arm and closed an eye. Exhale…
Her ears rang as the rider fell backwards. The horse bolted the wrong way for her to try and grasp the reins as it passed, or some such foolishness. It hadn't been much of a hope, really. Just a last ditch thought toward her survival. There was no great lamentation or heavy sigh. Even in this circumstance she wasn't a melodramatic person.
Instead she lifted the other pistol and pressed the barrel against the underside of her chin, cocking it with her thumb. She closed her eyes, steadying her breathing and stilling the tremble of her hands.
"I'm sorry, Henrietta." Perhaps she should say something more. Like how she couldn't keep her promise, or was leaving the Princess' service. But no, there was no point. Nobody was around to hear her final words.
Agnès pulled the trigger, and was rewarded with nothing but a futile click.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ordinary people run away from gunfire. This is just a fact of the world. However, as her sister frequently said right before becoming teary-eyed and hugging her, she was anything but normal. Perhaps it was just a wandering hunter, in which case she could see if he had any game to buy… a hunter out in these woods in the middle of winter… who was wealthy enough to afford a gun for hunting.
No, even her seemingly boundless optimism had its limits. It was more likely to be soldiers again. The patrols in the area had finally died down recently, after weeks of dodging them in her efforts to pick herbs for medicine and trap what few woodland creatures were still awake for food to supplement their rather bland stockpile.
They were well set for the rest of Winter, and beyond, due to the money that still arrived via clandestine messengers. Every time she got a new purse of coins she tried not to think what her sister was doing to earn the money… what indignities she might have been willing to suffer for the sake of her family.
Even so, when one of the children grew ill she still had to go out in search of the right plants to brew up a basic remedy. Something to soothe sore throats and runny noses, at the very least. For whatever reason she'd never been particularly bothered by the cold and so it was no real trouble… up until she'd heard the gunfire.
When she arrived it was to a bizarre, horrific tableau of red on white. There was one figure lying against a tree and two bodies beside her. A third was in the middle distance, crumpled up on the ground amidst messy hoofprints, and then two more scattered to her left and right. Three men stood around the prone figure and were currently engaged in putting the boot in, as it were.
They weren't wearing a proper uniform but each of them had the red strip that marked them as soldiers under the crimson banner of Reconquista; the new de facto rulers of Albion. Whatever this matter was… her heart ached to see it but she didn't want to interfere. They hadn't noticed her yet and there was nothing she could do for the poor man down there; assuming he was even still alive.
Then one of the men stepped back and she caught a glimpse of their target. She had already moved out from behind the tree and was walking towards them before she could stop herself. One of them heard the crunch of feet on snow and turned to face her. He relaxed a bit on seeing her and opened his mouth, presumably to ward her off.
Whatever he might have been about to say died on his lips as Tiffania pushed back her hood and did her best to glare defiantly at the soldier. It wasn't a very good glare but she could have smiled sweetly at him and it would have had the same effect. The man screamed with abject terror and as his companions looked up they quickly joined him.
The trio practically fell over themselves as they fled. She stood there until they were out of sight and then moved as quickly as she could. First was stripping off as much weight as she could from the injured woman. The chain shirt went and, as it did, she discovered a latticework of bloody welts underneath.
With great distaste, Tiffania took the least bloody cloaks from the dead soldiers and bundled up the unconscious woman. She still had a heartbeat, and was breathing as well, so that was a small mercy. Although she wasn't strong enough to carry her any distance she could drag her relatively smoothly by making a makeshift litter out of the various cloaks… might as well use the bloody ones for that.
The snow made for an easy ride for her patient, at least, She trudged forward as fast as she could, dragging the litter along with her and painfully aware of the trail she was leaving. If this person was even remotely important to them then even the fear of elves wouldn't hold them back for long.
That had been stupid. So, so stupid. Years of careful hiding thrown away for a stranger. It was a truly foolish choice she'd made… but she wouldn't regret it. Maybe the woman was a bad person who deserved what she'd gotten, although knowing the Reconquista she doubted that, but leaving her there like that...
They'd almost reached the orphanage when she heard the dogs. Not that they'd need them to follow her; although, the scent of blood was likely thick along the trail she'd left. She tried to break into a run but it was difficult to build up any momentum while dragging an injured woman. Even then, the best she could do would be to barricade the door. Then, when they got inside, the children…
Not for the first time, Tiffania wished she could do magic. Proper magic, that is. There was her ring, but that was sitting in a small box under her bed safe and sound. Besides, even if she healed the woman there was no guarantee she'd wake up and be able to fight off the soldiers.
In desperation she welled up what energy she could muster and tried to force it out into the world. She focused on the idea of Fire and tried to say the incantations that her sister had taught her. Nothing happened. She tossed power into the yawning abyss and nothing returned to her. The only result was a slight tingling in her joints and a faint tremor of exhaustion across her body.
The pursuers sounded close enough for her to pick out the sounds of hoofbeats kicking up snow. She let the last vestiges of power gathered power trickle away and fell to her knees. Matilda would be so upset when she found out. That was the worst bit, in her mind. All the effort that she'd put forward to help and in the end Tiffania had tossed it all away for the sake of a woman she didn't even know.
She tried one last time, not even knowing what she expected at this point. Gathering strength and prayer as one to cast them forth in the hopes of something, anything, happening. If she could just figure out the trick… but, no. The power flowed out of her and didn't even disturb the snow.
Dogs barked and horses charged as the soldiers grew closer.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A single eyelid lifted to unleash a raging storm. It was contained, however, by the dimensions of the eye beneath; a blizzard contained in a gaze. The owner of the tempest slowly lifted itself from the ground and stared at the intrusion into its home.
There was a tear in the air, an impossible opening in this equally impossible realm. Green light shone around the edges of a colourless hole in space that shimmered and distorted. The beast could feel the call echoing from within in some inexplicable way. A desperate plea of a frightened child.
As it stepped forward a smaller figure all in red shifted with discomfort at the removal of its source of warmth. Shining eyes inched open and met with a pale stare. Something deep and incomprehensible passed between the two entities for a moment that lasted an eternity. Then the beast turned and moved into the portal.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The leader of the raiding party cursed his luck as the wind began to pick up. They had a strong trail from where the woman had killed the first group but even a light squall could bury it in a few inches of snow. Not for the last time he bemoaned the weather, the cold, the damn bitch they were chasing and his unsympathetic superior all in the same breath.
Then, quite suddenly, their horses skidded to a halt. The lead animal reared violently and threw its rider, turning moments later and nearly trampling the man as it ran away. He spat and crossed himself to ward off heresy. Elfin magic, no doubt. Assuming the babbling idiots who'd lost the girl had been telling the truth.
Until that moment he'd doubted they were. There had been no signs of magic where they'd found the five bodies and, by the mens' own accounts, those had been the work of the woman herself. Even half dead she'd killed five of his contingent. The so-called elf that had 'saved' her hadn't killed any. He'd thought they must have run away when she killed the others and made up a story.
Now, though? As he felt the terror in the tensed muscles of the animal underneath him the Captain was reconsidering. He'd rallied to the crimson banner due to the promise of 'redistributed' wealth and titles, not to fight elves. As he considered calling off the chase entirely he heard the sound.
It was a long, powerful howl that pierced the chill air and set every living creature in the group to trembling. The dogs strained at the end of their long tethers but were no longer trying to rush forward in search of prey. No, they were desperately trying to break their bonds and flee into the night. His horse was stamping in place, twitching under him; too well trained to bolt, but not nearly broken enough to go any closer to that sound.
Of greatest concern to the Captain himself, however, was the simple fact that he knew there were no wolves in Albion. Yet that was, unmistakably, the howl of a wolf. What else could it be? No dog could make a sound like that, especially not the local breeds; all lithe and bred for hunting, lacking the stoutness of chest that could cause such a deep sound.
He wanted to tell them to retreat. Surely such creatures would focus on the wounded woman? But no, there was no way this was a coincidence. Some heretical power was at work here. He dismounted and led his horse to a tree, tying it there. Ten men were selected to come with him. Stout soldiers, an extra Noble bastard amongst them, so that made two mages with him included. The rest stayed to guard the horses as they pressed on.
Without the dogs they were reliant on the rapidly disappearing trail and so they did their best to move fast. Neither of them were strong enough in Water to solidify the snow or somesuch, but the other mage was Air aligned with sufficient power to provide them some reprieve from the biting wind.
Something came charging between the trees and he almost flung a fireball at it before he realized it was one of the forward team's horses. Another followed it, and another. Not a single rider between them. The men muttered amongst themselves, tossing out words like 'witchcraft'. He didn't berate them for it; after all, he was feeling much the same.
In the middle distance something white moved. He tried to catch it in his field of vision but it was shifting around the edges constantly. Whatever it was moved fast. They told stories to children about elves taking animal form and stealing naughty kids away if they wandered off the paths, and such, but if you believed everything ascribed to the damn things by folk tales you'd think that a lone one could conquer all of Halkegenia if it wanted to.
He turned to address his men, about to order them to take a rough circle formation, and then froze. A quick bit of mental arithmetic turned up one short, yet he'd definitely selected ten men to come with him. Nine nervous sets of eyes were looking to him for guidance now, though. Who was missing? Well, even if he knew their names how would he tell with everyone bundled up like this.
Then he saw the drops of red hanging in the air. More materialized as a gash opened up in nothingness; white fangs shining against red maw. He was acutely aware of his sword slipping between his fingers as a pair of eyes opened up above the mouth and a warmth that ran down his leg as he realized the magnitude of what they were facing.
The wolf lunged.
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When it came for the rest they didn't realize until it was far too late. Even though it towered above the trees each footstep made no more sound than a wisp of fog curling over ice. It stood four men tall and many more than that from nose to tail yet moved with impossible speed and supernatural agility. Crossbow bolts failed to find purchase through thick fur and blades were smacked aside as they tried to fight back.
Even when they turned and ran there was no reprieve. Each man died quickly, but alone. The only sign each of the hunting parties had before being wiped out by the behemoth was the wind it carried with it picking up in its wake and their dogs first trying to flee in terror and then laying down in submission as it arrived in their midst.
When it returned to Tiffania it was accompanied by a score of hounds that followed some distance behind. Each still trembled in the presence of a creature so far above them that it may as well be their god. There was blood on its fur and muzzle. She knew, without a doubt, that it was human. It had killed them. Every last one of them.
It lay down before her and gently pressed his nose against her face. A faint white light still shone beneath the fur of its right paw as it sniffed at her. Then a vast tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth in a silent, canine chuckle.
The dogs dispersed, glad to be free of the monster that had slaughtered their masters. Said beast nudged the young girl out of the way and gently took the edge of the cloth litter in its mouth, lifting the injured woman off the ground and looking expectantly at the girl. Unsure as she was Tiffania still realized it was waiting for her to lead the way. Still shaking but feeling stronger with each step, she pulled herself together and began the slow trudge the rest of the way home.
Feeling mighty pleased with himself, The First Wolf followed behind her.
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GiftofLove
A Gift From The Heart
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I have no idea what that is, beyond the obvious, but all of my yes.
Hymn of Ragnarok
Well worn.
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Okay, that's new; I guess Agnes was asked to retrieve that letter.
Clearly that did not go well. Also, from mention of lightning, Wardes you bastard. Ah well we knew it was coming.
Gotta say though, the perspectives after Tiffania? Had a real hard time following the action and picturing it in my mind. Really hard to envision what's going on when there's rather sparse description of the wolf killing things. I know what it did but I feel like I'm lacking all the details I need to envision the scene, because those details are being withheld to enhance mystery.
It's disorienting, and not in the good way unfortunately. It just leaves me floundering, hoping to understand what's going on, and that not happening.
Maybe I'll give it another read tomorrow, see if it makes more sense.
Clearly that did not go well. Also, from mention of lightning, Wardes you bastard. Ah well we knew it was coming.
Gotta say though, the perspectives after Tiffania? Had a real hard time following the action and picturing it in my mind. Really hard to envision what's going on when there's rather sparse description of the wolf killing things. I know what it did but I feel like I'm lacking all the details I need to envision the scene, because those details are being withheld to enhance mystery.
It's disorienting, and not in the good way unfortunately. It just leaves me floundering, hoping to understand what's going on, and that not happening.
Maybe I'll give it another read tomorrow, see if it makes more sense.
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If it doesn't, I'll give it another pass. Honestly, it wasn't entirely coming out as I wanted so I rewrote that section a few times.
vyor
Oh that's cute
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Good dog.
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Bronze and Wanting
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Guiche finished his last set of warm-down stretches and then walked over to the chapter house's entrance. He removed his boots at the doorway, nodding to Siesta as she handed him a towel and then left her to await the remainder of the runners. The other servants had already laid the table and he relished the smell of hot porridge.
To think there would be a day that he would look forward to such… well, it was almost peasant food wasn't it? To be fair, he did take his with sliced banana and honey which was likely outside of the price range of a normal commoner. That thought stuck in his head for a few seconds and he couldn't help but frown.
He put it from his mind for the moment and began his breakfast. The far door that lead to the sleeping chambers opened up and the Grandmaster walked into the room. As he approached the breakfast table, one of the servants bringing forth a plate of bacon, eggs and sausages for him, he gave Guiche a companionable smile and a nod.
"Good morning, Grandmaster Wardes." A pained expression appeared on the Viscount's face at the mention of his unwanted title and he shook his head with a sigh.
"Please, Guiche; surely this appointment is penance enough without you constantly reminding me of my promotion." Well, that may be, but even if this was technically a penance assignment he still held the rank of Grandmaster of the Undine Knights. "Finished your morning run already? My word, that familiar of yours does good work." Guiche smiled.
"Well, I am simply more well practiced than most." His thoughts flashed to poor Malicorne, dogged and determined yet still bringing up the rear. "And Saito would easily have outpaced me were he not so concerned with making sure Louise finishes." The Princess' specific orders to the Viscount had been that he must take all volunteers regardless of his own feelings. Thus, even if Louise was still having trouble with her magic, and was a woman as well, she was allowed entry into the Order.
In fact, it had seemed like fully half of the school had signed up once word had gotten out. Perhaps a week after his encounter with Mott the Viscount had arrived at the Academy and made a stirring announcement. While Guiche couldn't quite recall the specific content of the address the general gist of it had been that Wardes was in charge of a new Knightly Order that would be taking volunteers from the student body.
The majority of the first years had dropped out after the first run; the major exception had been young Katie, much to Guiche's surprise. She'd taken to the training with an almost frightening fervor, and the way she went at the training dummies made him wonder if she was picturing a certain blond face as her target.
As for the second years, a fair few had remained; even more third years on top of that. His friends were all sticking around, of course, with Kirche still following Louise around unashamedly and the quiet girl that was almost always with her remained… well, almost always with her. She was doing quite well, actually. Some of the remainder surprised him. Take Malicorne, for instance. Even though he was always last in every exercise the rotund young man seemed to be giving it everything he had.
All in all, Guiche felt like the Viscount had a good crop. Perhaps they were a bit rough around the edges but they certainly had potential. Besides which, they had received significant donations from the parents of the various prospective initiates. His own father had received the news that Guiche was training as a Knight rather well and, in response, had arranged for a shipment of high-quality ore to be sent directly to them on the condition that Kenneth use it to make equipment for them.
His familiar had agreed without hesitation, practically drooling at the quantity and quality he'd been given to work with, and immediately set about taking measurements for all the survivors of the first week of training. Apparently he and Professor Colbert were making some interesting strides in metallurgy with their combined knowledge; Guiche had never seen the bald man look so happy as when he was putting together bits of various mechanisms.
Wardes stood, having finished his breakfast, and Guiche hurried to finish off his so he could follow the older man out into the courtyard. The building was a repurposed monastery that had been abandoned several years ago and had been donated from the Crown's land reserves. It wasn't very far from the academy and, once Kenneth had cleared the surrounding woodland a little, they could even see some of the towers in the distance.
"Even so, it seems I must once again reward you for your diligence. Shall we?" Wardes cast his cloak off as they entered, laying it over a bench, and Guiche placed his hat beside it. The older man chuckled slightly as they reached the middle ring; taking a pair of wooden practice swords from the rack. "I must say, boy, I didn't expect you to wear that thing everywhere when I gave it to you." He lunged suddenly, almost mid-word.
"Well!" Guiche sidestepped, slapping Wardes initial thrust down and attempting a riposte of his own. "I was considering having a matching cape made!" His clumsy attempt at a counterattack was easily dismantled, his sword effortlessly disarmed and a sharp rap laid across his shoulder.
"I feel like your familiar would be jealous if you did." The Grandmaster stood there expectantly as Guiche retrieved his weapon with a faint smile on his face. Mid-fight banter was somewhat of a tradition, and if he couldn't keep up then he felt that he'd failed in some way. Wardes kept up the waiting stare for a bit until the young man finally expounded upon his failures.
"I rushed in too quickly; I ought to have taken a moment to gain the full measure of your skill." Wardes nodded and began the next round. That was their pattern; trading roles seamlessly until Guiche was inevitably disarmed and then identified what mistake he'd made. If he didn't know then Wardes would take a few moments to explain and demonstrate the error.
The Viscount was a quality swordsman and an excellent teacher. Although Guiche still kept up his assigned routine as opposed to the basic training regime that Wardes had assigned to the rest of the hopefuls he still couldn't help but appreciate the man's talent for leadership.
By the time they finished their morning spar most of the other initiates had at last arrived in the courtyard and the reason for his growing admiration was revealed. Wardes partnered them up and circled around as he corrected forms and stances, occasionally subbing himself in to show off a particular chain of strikes before moving on to the next pair. All of this was done with a genial air and an easy, paternal manner.
"Young Master Gramont?" He turned to greet the Undine Knight's… well, he wasn't quite sure what position Miss Longueville occupied. After the newly appointed temporary Headmaster, for there was no way he'd keep his position when Old Osmond finally returned with the Staff of Destruction, had taken over she'd been rather rudely dismissed from her position. The Viscount had hired her to manage the various affairs of the order and she'd done so rather magnificently.
"Yes, Miss Longueville?" She was waving to him from the edge of the courtyard, unwilling to enter the battlefield. With good reason, at that. Some of the trainees were rather enthusiastic, and even at her age she only barely qualified as a Line Air Mage. Before heading over he did her the courtesy of dumping a bucket of water over himself to help with the rather firm aroma. Upon arrival she gave him a letter and a letter opener to go with it.
He split it open and skimmed the contents, vaguely aware of the Viscount walking up behind him and the lady walking off to deliver more mail. It was another missive from his father, bringing news of the military muster. Very little of it was good.
"Letters from home, Guiche?" At first he didn't respond, finishing scanning the last few lines before addressing the older man. When he finally did it was with a somber voice and a resigned expression.
"Indeed. Father is… concerned with the quality of our forces. We haven't properly mustered our forces in some time due to the extended peace with Germania. Albion has a strong airship fleet as well, and he fears many of their crews may now fly the crimson banner." Wardes nodded, concern writ large across his face. With good reason… he likely felt that the potential crisis they faced was largely his fault.
"I suppose we'll just have to try and make up the difference, hm? A well-trained mage is equal to a hundred soldiers on a battlefield, and we have the most mages." He patted Guiche on the shoulder and smiled down at him, placing his hat back on his head. "Speaking of, I've got a job for you. Well, more of a test. Pick, say, two or three people for a mission. City fighting conditions, friendly territory. And yes, this part is a test as well."
He nodded and headed off immediately as Wardes walked over to take a sheaf of letters from Longueville and began to talk to her. Two or three people… and in the city, as well? He'd be judged on his choices, as well. The first step would probably be to get some advice.
Well, Kenneth was back up at the Academy. A quick ride wouldn't hurt. He had to dry off and change, of course… and, to his regret, collect Derflinger from the bottom of his chest. The shield was currently sulking due to a minor… falling out they'd had. He was very grateful, of course, for the gift that the dwarf had given him but at the same time...
It was so crass! The comments it made were just as bad as the familiar himself. No wonder they'd gotten along so well. He'd tried to give it a firm talking to after it had upset his dear Montmorency but that had just lead to him having a shouting match with a shield. Very embarrassing.
Even so, it wouldn't do to be without. So he loaded up his shield and belted on his sword then commandeered a horse for the ride to the Academy. About halfway there he finally broke down and, with a deep sigh, addressed Derf.
"You do realize you're being childish, don't you?" Silence from hanging armament. According to Kenneth the spirit or what-have-you was several thousand years old, so how was it so immature? "I'm not apologizing for what I said. You upset my beloved with your comments." Further silence from the tool. By the Founder… who would have ever made a weapon with this sort of personality? "Will you stop sulking if I ask Kirche to wax you?"
"Why, partner, I thought you'd never ask!" Guiche resisted the urge to strike at the shield, or his own face, and instead just spurred the horse on as Derf began his litany of fantasizing about the future of polishing he was looking forward to. As frustrating as it was, he did want to keep the shield happy… if only because he wasn't sure if it would still use its powers if it was mad at him.
Eventually he managed to steer the conversation to a less irritating topic and, for the remainder of the ride, benefitted from Derf regaling him with tales of heroism by his previous owners. That, at least, was a far more pleasant interaction with the perverted shield. Especially as, even if the names were a bit off, he could recognize a few of the tales as some of his literary heroes.
Thus the journey turned out to be mostly pleasant, on the whole. It was still mid-morning when he reached the Academy again, with most of the students still in classes. The lack of need to attend regular lessons was part of the reason why so many had originally applied to the Undine Knights. Guiche had to imagine they regretted leaving when faced with the week's worth of catch-up work on their return. Then again, perhaps that was less onerous than their exercises.
One benefit of this visit was that he could stop in and see his beloved Montmorency, however! Ah… it was a grave burden to be away from his darling for so long. Going without so much as a glimpse of her beauty for days on end was truly torturous. However, she'd decided that her talents would be more effectively applied completing her training in Water magic so she could serve as a proper healer. Such a selfless paragon of Nobility! He'd make sure to stop by after getting advice from his familiar.
When he found the dwarf, who had moved outside of the walls now and to the far side of the main gate, Professor Colbert was with him; huddled behind a pile of what looked like bags of wheat, albeit incredibly full, laid upon a berm of earth. Further away, in a shallow pit, there stood Kenneth beside a large metal contraption of some sort. He appeared to be stoking a fire. As Guiche approached he turned and leapt out of the pit. He sprinted towards the cover where Colbert was waiting and took a flying leap over it.
"Professor? Do you not have classes today?" The teacher turned, saw Guiche and reacted quickly. His staff came up and a blast of wind struck the young man in the chest, knocking him on to his back. There was a high pitched whistling and then everything was suddenly warm and wet. When the ringing in his ears finally subsided he sat up to see the Professor and Kenneth standing at the edge of the pit and surveying the twisted wreckage of the device.
"Guess we didnae leave enough tolerance on th' safety valve, eh? Y'can see where it burst along here. Yer welds were plenty good enough, though." Guiche slowly walked up behind them, staring at the carnage before him. Bits of metal were embedded into the walls and ground. That explained why their testing zone was here.
"Excellent! So we won't need your, ah, 'glyph' mechanisms for the final design, then? Native smelting techniques will suffice?" Kenneth nodded, hopping down and twisting some of the metal out of the way so he could look more closely at the distorted mass of ruined steel.
"Aye, she'll need a Fire Mage of yer calibre for a while yet, until we work the kinks out o' tha' pig iron converter. Gotta figure out a proper casting fer th' boiler, ah reckon, an' try a few more designs fer th' valve." He turned to the Professor, the two of them grinning at each other like a pair of children presented with a big bowl of candy. "Ah'll call ye when ah've got th' next one done."
"Wonderful! Oh, darn, I'm late for my class again. I'll revise my designs later tonight and bring them to you as soon as they're done! Nice seeing you again, young Gramont." Then, having only barely acknowledged Guiche, he cast a flight spell upon himself and soared up and over the walls. The young man shook his head and waved at his familiar.
"Hey-o! Didja see that, me boy? Give us a few more weeks an' we'll bloody well have trains, we will!" Kenneth looked so pleased with himself that Guiche didn't have the heart to explain he didn't know what a 'train' was.
"Ah, very good. I came by to get your advice about a training mission that the Grandmaster wants to send me on. He told me to pick a team with city fighting conditions in mind?" The dwarf curled one of the steel beams back the way it was before and hauled himself back out of the pit, stroking his beard pensively. His beards clacked with the sounds Guiche had come to associate with deep thought.
"See if Louise'll lend ya Saito; stealth is his thing in every environment. Maybe th' blue haired girl? She's fit, an' tough, an' her magic ain't quite so destructive as some. Otherwise, just use yer best judgement. Even if y'get it wrong, tha's a way t'learn too, aye?" Guiche nodded. That had been about what he was thinking. Kenneth gave him a sly grin and elbowed him in the side. "Aye, ah get it. Ye didnae come here just t'get my advice, eh? Go see yer lass, ah'm sure she'll be pleased to see ye."
He thanked his familiar, and went off once again. In truth, he had wanted to have his reasoning confirmed by Kenneth, yes, but he also felt like he and Monmon had grown a little distant as of late. She seemed ill at ease amongst their group, particularly around Kirche and Tabitha, which made him wonder if his past behaviour still weighed heavily upon her mind.
Speaking of which! It seemed he'd arrived with good timing, as the morning class was just getting out and he knew her schedule meant she had no more classes today until after lunch. He took a detour through one of the gardens to cut a rather lovely rose, if he did say so himself, and as she came out of the front gate he appeared before her to present it.
Much to his surprise she jumped a little and looked away for a moment before recovering her composure. Then she was her usual, charming self; shining and gushing over the flower and taking his arm with a winsome smile… ah, how lovely. Unfortunately, he couldn't get that earlier reaction out of his mind.
It bugged him all through their impromptu morning lunch, with cakes provided to him with the compliments of the Head Chef and a pleased pat on the head for how politely he asked, Finally he broke down and leaned over the table to take Montmorency's hand.
"My dearest Monmon… I find myself deeply torn. I fear you have been concealing something from me. Know that I respect your right to privacy, my love, but I pray that you might be willing to share your troubles with me." He fixed her with his most wonderfully sincere gaze and, before long, the blonde beauty broke.
"Ah… w-well, Guiche, I… I fear I did something a little bit… foolish." Before she could continue he reached out and clasped her hand between both of his hands, letting his genuine concern shine forth to soothe her woes.
"Nay, my love, do not say such things! We are all mortal, it is true, and to err is only human; but there is nothing you could do to lower your position in my heart." Montmorency turned a little red, took a look around, gathered her courage and, finally, let loose the concerns in her heart.
"I… I tried to dose you with a love potion a few weeks ago." Guiche clutched at his breast, first and foremost, recoiling in horror. Then he slid out of his chair and took a knee beside the table, looking up at Montmorency with wide, adoring eyes.
"Dear heart, my feelings tremble at the enormity of your pain. Such is the depth of the suffering I have caused you that you felt the need to make take such extreme measures to guarantee my affections! Fear not, my darling rose, for the fire of my love for you has only been stoked by this terrible revelation!" Montmorency swooned with a faint, ladylike blush and smiled up at him as he laid a gentle kiss upon her delicate hand.
"Well… y-yes, that is to say… I forgive you, Guiche de Gramont. However, there is another concern. I… may have been somewhat incautious with my efforts, and as a result someone else imbibed the potion that was meant for you." Ah. That was a more difficult situation. Guiche considered the situation and then nodded.
"Very well. Then our course of action is clear. We must acquire a cure post-haste and rectify the situation, then throw ourselves upon the mercy of the afflicted party. Might I ask whom received the unfortunate concoction?" Montmorency turned sheepish, which said quite a lot. It was obviously someone they both knew quite well.
"Ah… well, you see… I'm afraid it was several weeks ago now… a-and the potion I used was meant to be a more subtle effect, of course. A sort of slower burn? The book said it, um, helped the imbiber realize their deeply held feelings only I think it just said that to make you feel better about brewing it…" Well, love potions were banned for a reason.
While he could forgive his love due to her pure motives that didn't mean he wouldn't arrange for his familiar to have a few words with her about it. For her own good. "Anyway, we were in the library, and I had those little cakes, remember? And before I could give you the one I made for you… Kirche ate it." Oh. Yes, that had been the first time she'd crashed his studying with… Vallière…
"Oh dear." Guiche frowned as he straightened up, considering the events of the past few weeks in a new light. "This could be a bit of a problem."
To think there would be a day that he would look forward to such… well, it was almost peasant food wasn't it? To be fair, he did take his with sliced banana and honey which was likely outside of the price range of a normal commoner. That thought stuck in his head for a few seconds and he couldn't help but frown.
He put it from his mind for the moment and began his breakfast. The far door that lead to the sleeping chambers opened up and the Grandmaster walked into the room. As he approached the breakfast table, one of the servants bringing forth a plate of bacon, eggs and sausages for him, he gave Guiche a companionable smile and a nod.
"Good morning, Grandmaster Wardes." A pained expression appeared on the Viscount's face at the mention of his unwanted title and he shook his head with a sigh.
"Please, Guiche; surely this appointment is penance enough without you constantly reminding me of my promotion." Well, that may be, but even if this was technically a penance assignment he still held the rank of Grandmaster of the Undine Knights. "Finished your morning run already? My word, that familiar of yours does good work." Guiche smiled.
"Well, I am simply more well practiced than most." His thoughts flashed to poor Malicorne, dogged and determined yet still bringing up the rear. "And Saito would easily have outpaced me were he not so concerned with making sure Louise finishes." The Princess' specific orders to the Viscount had been that he must take all volunteers regardless of his own feelings. Thus, even if Louise was still having trouble with her magic, and was a woman as well, she was allowed entry into the Order.
In fact, it had seemed like fully half of the school had signed up once word had gotten out. Perhaps a week after his encounter with Mott the Viscount had arrived at the Academy and made a stirring announcement. While Guiche couldn't quite recall the specific content of the address the general gist of it had been that Wardes was in charge of a new Knightly Order that would be taking volunteers from the student body.
The majority of the first years had dropped out after the first run; the major exception had been young Katie, much to Guiche's surprise. She'd taken to the training with an almost frightening fervor, and the way she went at the training dummies made him wonder if she was picturing a certain blond face as her target.
As for the second years, a fair few had remained; even more third years on top of that. His friends were all sticking around, of course, with Kirche still following Louise around unashamedly and the quiet girl that was almost always with her remained… well, almost always with her. She was doing quite well, actually. Some of the remainder surprised him. Take Malicorne, for instance. Even though he was always last in every exercise the rotund young man seemed to be giving it everything he had.
All in all, Guiche felt like the Viscount had a good crop. Perhaps they were a bit rough around the edges but they certainly had potential. Besides which, they had received significant donations from the parents of the various prospective initiates. His own father had received the news that Guiche was training as a Knight rather well and, in response, had arranged for a shipment of high-quality ore to be sent directly to them on the condition that Kenneth use it to make equipment for them.
His familiar had agreed without hesitation, practically drooling at the quantity and quality he'd been given to work with, and immediately set about taking measurements for all the survivors of the first week of training. Apparently he and Professor Colbert were making some interesting strides in metallurgy with their combined knowledge; Guiche had never seen the bald man look so happy as when he was putting together bits of various mechanisms.
Wardes stood, having finished his breakfast, and Guiche hurried to finish off his so he could follow the older man out into the courtyard. The building was a repurposed monastery that had been abandoned several years ago and had been donated from the Crown's land reserves. It wasn't very far from the academy and, once Kenneth had cleared the surrounding woodland a little, they could even see some of the towers in the distance.
"Even so, it seems I must once again reward you for your diligence. Shall we?" Wardes cast his cloak off as they entered, laying it over a bench, and Guiche placed his hat beside it. The older man chuckled slightly as they reached the middle ring; taking a pair of wooden practice swords from the rack. "I must say, boy, I didn't expect you to wear that thing everywhere when I gave it to you." He lunged suddenly, almost mid-word.
"Well!" Guiche sidestepped, slapping Wardes initial thrust down and attempting a riposte of his own. "I was considering having a matching cape made!" His clumsy attempt at a counterattack was easily dismantled, his sword effortlessly disarmed and a sharp rap laid across his shoulder.
"I feel like your familiar would be jealous if you did." The Grandmaster stood there expectantly as Guiche retrieved his weapon with a faint smile on his face. Mid-fight banter was somewhat of a tradition, and if he couldn't keep up then he felt that he'd failed in some way. Wardes kept up the waiting stare for a bit until the young man finally expounded upon his failures.
"I rushed in too quickly; I ought to have taken a moment to gain the full measure of your skill." Wardes nodded and began the next round. That was their pattern; trading roles seamlessly until Guiche was inevitably disarmed and then identified what mistake he'd made. If he didn't know then Wardes would take a few moments to explain and demonstrate the error.
The Viscount was a quality swordsman and an excellent teacher. Although Guiche still kept up his assigned routine as opposed to the basic training regime that Wardes had assigned to the rest of the hopefuls he still couldn't help but appreciate the man's talent for leadership.
By the time they finished their morning spar most of the other initiates had at last arrived in the courtyard and the reason for his growing admiration was revealed. Wardes partnered them up and circled around as he corrected forms and stances, occasionally subbing himself in to show off a particular chain of strikes before moving on to the next pair. All of this was done with a genial air and an easy, paternal manner.
"Young Master Gramont?" He turned to greet the Undine Knight's… well, he wasn't quite sure what position Miss Longueville occupied. After the newly appointed temporary Headmaster, for there was no way he'd keep his position when Old Osmond finally returned with the Staff of Destruction, had taken over she'd been rather rudely dismissed from her position. The Viscount had hired her to manage the various affairs of the order and she'd done so rather magnificently.
"Yes, Miss Longueville?" She was waving to him from the edge of the courtyard, unwilling to enter the battlefield. With good reason, at that. Some of the trainees were rather enthusiastic, and even at her age she only barely qualified as a Line Air Mage. Before heading over he did her the courtesy of dumping a bucket of water over himself to help with the rather firm aroma. Upon arrival she gave him a letter and a letter opener to go with it.
He split it open and skimmed the contents, vaguely aware of the Viscount walking up behind him and the lady walking off to deliver more mail. It was another missive from his father, bringing news of the military muster. Very little of it was good.
"Letters from home, Guiche?" At first he didn't respond, finishing scanning the last few lines before addressing the older man. When he finally did it was with a somber voice and a resigned expression.
"Indeed. Father is… concerned with the quality of our forces. We haven't properly mustered our forces in some time due to the extended peace with Germania. Albion has a strong airship fleet as well, and he fears many of their crews may now fly the crimson banner." Wardes nodded, concern writ large across his face. With good reason… he likely felt that the potential crisis they faced was largely his fault.
"I suppose we'll just have to try and make up the difference, hm? A well-trained mage is equal to a hundred soldiers on a battlefield, and we have the most mages." He patted Guiche on the shoulder and smiled down at him, placing his hat back on his head. "Speaking of, I've got a job for you. Well, more of a test. Pick, say, two or three people for a mission. City fighting conditions, friendly territory. And yes, this part is a test as well."
He nodded and headed off immediately as Wardes walked over to take a sheaf of letters from Longueville and began to talk to her. Two or three people… and in the city, as well? He'd be judged on his choices, as well. The first step would probably be to get some advice.
Well, Kenneth was back up at the Academy. A quick ride wouldn't hurt. He had to dry off and change, of course… and, to his regret, collect Derflinger from the bottom of his chest. The shield was currently sulking due to a minor… falling out they'd had. He was very grateful, of course, for the gift that the dwarf had given him but at the same time...
It was so crass! The comments it made were just as bad as the familiar himself. No wonder they'd gotten along so well. He'd tried to give it a firm talking to after it had upset his dear Montmorency but that had just lead to him having a shouting match with a shield. Very embarrassing.
Even so, it wouldn't do to be without. So he loaded up his shield and belted on his sword then commandeered a horse for the ride to the Academy. About halfway there he finally broke down and, with a deep sigh, addressed Derf.
"You do realize you're being childish, don't you?" Silence from hanging armament. According to Kenneth the spirit or what-have-you was several thousand years old, so how was it so immature? "I'm not apologizing for what I said. You upset my beloved with your comments." Further silence from the tool. By the Founder… who would have ever made a weapon with this sort of personality? "Will you stop sulking if I ask Kirche to wax you?"
"Why, partner, I thought you'd never ask!" Guiche resisted the urge to strike at the shield, or his own face, and instead just spurred the horse on as Derf began his litany of fantasizing about the future of polishing he was looking forward to. As frustrating as it was, he did want to keep the shield happy… if only because he wasn't sure if it would still use its powers if it was mad at him.
Eventually he managed to steer the conversation to a less irritating topic and, for the remainder of the ride, benefitted from Derf regaling him with tales of heroism by his previous owners. That, at least, was a far more pleasant interaction with the perverted shield. Especially as, even if the names were a bit off, he could recognize a few of the tales as some of his literary heroes.
Thus the journey turned out to be mostly pleasant, on the whole. It was still mid-morning when he reached the Academy again, with most of the students still in classes. The lack of need to attend regular lessons was part of the reason why so many had originally applied to the Undine Knights. Guiche had to imagine they regretted leaving when faced with the week's worth of catch-up work on their return. Then again, perhaps that was less onerous than their exercises.
One benefit of this visit was that he could stop in and see his beloved Montmorency, however! Ah… it was a grave burden to be away from his darling for so long. Going without so much as a glimpse of her beauty for days on end was truly torturous. However, she'd decided that her talents would be more effectively applied completing her training in Water magic so she could serve as a proper healer. Such a selfless paragon of Nobility! He'd make sure to stop by after getting advice from his familiar.
When he found the dwarf, who had moved outside of the walls now and to the far side of the main gate, Professor Colbert was with him; huddled behind a pile of what looked like bags of wheat, albeit incredibly full, laid upon a berm of earth. Further away, in a shallow pit, there stood Kenneth beside a large metal contraption of some sort. He appeared to be stoking a fire. As Guiche approached he turned and leapt out of the pit. He sprinted towards the cover where Colbert was waiting and took a flying leap over it.
"Professor? Do you not have classes today?" The teacher turned, saw Guiche and reacted quickly. His staff came up and a blast of wind struck the young man in the chest, knocking him on to his back. There was a high pitched whistling and then everything was suddenly warm and wet. When the ringing in his ears finally subsided he sat up to see the Professor and Kenneth standing at the edge of the pit and surveying the twisted wreckage of the device.
"Guess we didnae leave enough tolerance on th' safety valve, eh? Y'can see where it burst along here. Yer welds were plenty good enough, though." Guiche slowly walked up behind them, staring at the carnage before him. Bits of metal were embedded into the walls and ground. That explained why their testing zone was here.
"Excellent! So we won't need your, ah, 'glyph' mechanisms for the final design, then? Native smelting techniques will suffice?" Kenneth nodded, hopping down and twisting some of the metal out of the way so he could look more closely at the distorted mass of ruined steel.
"Aye, she'll need a Fire Mage of yer calibre for a while yet, until we work the kinks out o' tha' pig iron converter. Gotta figure out a proper casting fer th' boiler, ah reckon, an' try a few more designs fer th' valve." He turned to the Professor, the two of them grinning at each other like a pair of children presented with a big bowl of candy. "Ah'll call ye when ah've got th' next one done."
"Wonderful! Oh, darn, I'm late for my class again. I'll revise my designs later tonight and bring them to you as soon as they're done! Nice seeing you again, young Gramont." Then, having only barely acknowledged Guiche, he cast a flight spell upon himself and soared up and over the walls. The young man shook his head and waved at his familiar.
"Hey-o! Didja see that, me boy? Give us a few more weeks an' we'll bloody well have trains, we will!" Kenneth looked so pleased with himself that Guiche didn't have the heart to explain he didn't know what a 'train' was.
"Ah, very good. I came by to get your advice about a training mission that the Grandmaster wants to send me on. He told me to pick a team with city fighting conditions in mind?" The dwarf curled one of the steel beams back the way it was before and hauled himself back out of the pit, stroking his beard pensively. His beards clacked with the sounds Guiche had come to associate with deep thought.
"See if Louise'll lend ya Saito; stealth is his thing in every environment. Maybe th' blue haired girl? She's fit, an' tough, an' her magic ain't quite so destructive as some. Otherwise, just use yer best judgement. Even if y'get it wrong, tha's a way t'learn too, aye?" Guiche nodded. That had been about what he was thinking. Kenneth gave him a sly grin and elbowed him in the side. "Aye, ah get it. Ye didnae come here just t'get my advice, eh? Go see yer lass, ah'm sure she'll be pleased to see ye."
He thanked his familiar, and went off once again. In truth, he had wanted to have his reasoning confirmed by Kenneth, yes, but he also felt like he and Monmon had grown a little distant as of late. She seemed ill at ease amongst their group, particularly around Kirche and Tabitha, which made him wonder if his past behaviour still weighed heavily upon her mind.
Speaking of which! It seemed he'd arrived with good timing, as the morning class was just getting out and he knew her schedule meant she had no more classes today until after lunch. He took a detour through one of the gardens to cut a rather lovely rose, if he did say so himself, and as she came out of the front gate he appeared before her to present it.
Much to his surprise she jumped a little and looked away for a moment before recovering her composure. Then she was her usual, charming self; shining and gushing over the flower and taking his arm with a winsome smile… ah, how lovely. Unfortunately, he couldn't get that earlier reaction out of his mind.
It bugged him all through their impromptu morning lunch, with cakes provided to him with the compliments of the Head Chef and a pleased pat on the head for how politely he asked, Finally he broke down and leaned over the table to take Montmorency's hand.
"My dearest Monmon… I find myself deeply torn. I fear you have been concealing something from me. Know that I respect your right to privacy, my love, but I pray that you might be willing to share your troubles with me." He fixed her with his most wonderfully sincere gaze and, before long, the blonde beauty broke.
"Ah… w-well, Guiche, I… I fear I did something a little bit… foolish." Before she could continue he reached out and clasped her hand between both of his hands, letting his genuine concern shine forth to soothe her woes.
"Nay, my love, do not say such things! We are all mortal, it is true, and to err is only human; but there is nothing you could do to lower your position in my heart." Montmorency turned a little red, took a look around, gathered her courage and, finally, let loose the concerns in her heart.
"I… I tried to dose you with a love potion a few weeks ago." Guiche clutched at his breast, first and foremost, recoiling in horror. Then he slid out of his chair and took a knee beside the table, looking up at Montmorency with wide, adoring eyes.
"Dear heart, my feelings tremble at the enormity of your pain. Such is the depth of the suffering I have caused you that you felt the need to make take such extreme measures to guarantee my affections! Fear not, my darling rose, for the fire of my love for you has only been stoked by this terrible revelation!" Montmorency swooned with a faint, ladylike blush and smiled up at him as he laid a gentle kiss upon her delicate hand.
"Well… y-yes, that is to say… I forgive you, Guiche de Gramont. However, there is another concern. I… may have been somewhat incautious with my efforts, and as a result someone else imbibed the potion that was meant for you." Ah. That was a more difficult situation. Guiche considered the situation and then nodded.
"Very well. Then our course of action is clear. We must acquire a cure post-haste and rectify the situation, then throw ourselves upon the mercy of the afflicted party. Might I ask whom received the unfortunate concoction?" Montmorency turned sheepish, which said quite a lot. It was obviously someone they both knew quite well.
"Ah… well, you see… I'm afraid it was several weeks ago now… a-and the potion I used was meant to be a more subtle effect, of course. A sort of slower burn? The book said it, um, helped the imbiber realize their deeply held feelings only I think it just said that to make you feel better about brewing it…" Well, love potions were banned for a reason.
While he could forgive his love due to her pure motives that didn't mean he wouldn't arrange for his familiar to have a few words with her about it. For her own good. "Anyway, we were in the library, and I had those little cakes, remember? And before I could give you the one I made for you… Kirche ate it." Oh. Yes, that had been the first time she'd crashed his studying with… Vallière…
"Oh dear." Guiche frowned as he straightened up, considering the events of the past few weeks in a new light. "This could be a bit of a problem."
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I feel there are too many 'wells' to close to each other here. Perhaps if you remove the second well, and start the sentence with 'To be fair...'
Also, maybe some comment about how Guiche feels that Montmorency has 'wisely' decided not to enroll in the knights, or his relief in that she stepped out, if she tried? While reading that section, that kind of niggled at me, since this is Guiche and such, so romanticizing and thinking of his beloved, who he is definitely fighting for, because he is Guiche.
Okay, so! That's done. I can say I like how you have Guiche with his thoughts about the commoners slowly changing, here. It's not much, and it is subtle, but it shows he's progressing. Also, nice reveal about the whole Kirche thing. Let's hope the writings are true and it is just revealing suppressed feelings (because I pair Kirche/Lousie. Why? Why not?!).
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Done and done.
vyor
Oh that's cute
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Hymn of Ragnarok
Well worn.
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Ah darn forgot to reread the Blood and Wolf chapter.
Well on another reread it still works a little better than I thought so probably no need to rewrite.
The most recent update...well you threw us right into unknown territory with Wardes and the new order. Still, at least you spelled it out soon enough. I suppose this skipped a lot of boring set-up.
Kenneth and Colbert are clearly getting on like a house on fire. Good for them.
And Kirche taking the love potion....oh dear. That explains a lot, well done on slipping that plot in so subtly. This will not be easy to explain and may go over quite poorly. Though, it says something about Kirche's temperament that Tabitha and Saito didn't notice anything unusual about her.
Or did they?
I suspect not, or Montmorency would have gotten a rather chilly visit. As it is....Guiche may have a bit of conflict of interest with regards to where to place Tabitha and how much to inform her.
Well on another reread it still works a little better than I thought so probably no need to rewrite.
The most recent update...well you threw us right into unknown territory with Wardes and the new order. Still, at least you spelled it out soon enough. I suppose this skipped a lot of boring set-up.
Kenneth and Colbert are clearly getting on like a house on fire. Good for them.
And Kirche taking the love potion....oh dear. That explains a lot, well done on slipping that plot in so subtly. This will not be easy to explain and may go over quite poorly. Though, it says something about Kirche's temperament that Tabitha and Saito didn't notice anything unusual about her.
Or did they?
I suspect not, or Montmorency would have gotten a rather chilly visit. As it is....Guiche may have a bit of conflict of interest with regards to where to place Tabitha and how much to inform her.
vyor
Oh that's cute
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*thinks*
She was planning on wooing her before she ate the thing, otherwise it would never have latched onto her as the subject.
Hymn of Ragnarok
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Is that how it works? I figured it was a, "Who are you looking at when you eat it," sort of thing.
vyor
Oh that's cute
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No clue, it's how I would make it work if I were her. Can't guarantee that he's looking at you when he eats it, but you can damn well make sure you're in his thoughts.