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clara-licht · 2 years

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come here (i’m your paradise) - Alberu x Reader x Cale - Chapter 3

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Summary:

Alberu had done nothing but be a loving and supporting partner for her since the day they began courting. He was the epitome of a perfect significant other who never failed to be a gentleman and a lover in their relationship.

Looks, personality, wealth, affection, he had them all.

So how could she turn away from such a man so easily?

How could her heart betray her like this?

or;

(Y/n), the Empress of Roan Empire, had fallen for the sworn brother of her own husband. Cale wasn’t making it easy for her as she struggled against this newly found attraction, while Alberu seemed to be hiding something as well. Will this end well?

[Sequel to Dreamlike Reality, can be read as standalone]

Character(s): Alberu Crossman, Cale Henituse

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning: emotional infidelity, slightly provocative language

Note: So. It’s been more than 3 months. And I have a good reason for it, which you can read right here where an anon asked me about it. In short, during the last 4 months I received bad news after bad news that somehow never stopped, so I got way too depressed to find the will to write something.

This chapter is actually a split. I was going to combine both this and the next chapter, but it was getting too long and it’s also been a long time since the story was updated, so here it is.

I can’t promise when I’ll update the next chapter considering, well, more bad news are still hitting me as I’m writing this note right now. But hey! It’s supposed to be my late best friend’s birthday today (January 3rd) so let’s just say today’s chapter is dedicated to him ;) still missing you every single day of my life, dude!

Oh right, if you found a pun in the story right where it was getting angsty then pls note that it was unintentional. I did laugh at it while writing when I realized tho.

Don’t forget to leave comments if you want to read more, your comments really fuel my motivation! <3

Title Inspo: BTS - Pied Piper

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Masterlist

———————————————–

The day Cale visited her for the first time was weeks ago by now. And ever since then, Cale would regularly come by to her office every few days. He never stayed for long, an hour would be the longest time.

During these visits, he never brought up any risky topic ever again. They would have tea together and talk about many things, starting from Empire matters like the recent treaty with another Kingdom to personal matters like how Cale’s children were begging him to travel with them.

“Why don’t you humor them? Raon can teleport and save a lot of time and effort anyway, right?”

She couldn’t stop a giggle as she took in his appalled expression.

“Your Majesty,” Cale put down his teacup, eyes wide tinged with fear, “once we go on one trip, the children will want more. We’ll end up going around the world! And when that’s not enough, they’ll ask to use the divine item and go to different worlds! What about my farm?! My slacker life?!”

(Y/n) nearly snorted when Cale’s expression turned horrified at the thought of losing his dearly beloved slacker life.

How adorable.

(Y/n) enjoyed these talks. She found herself beginning to open up to the red-haired noble and he did the same to her. She learned more about the normally stoic and level-headed ex-Commander, as he too learned more about her.

When the days began to blur together, she found herself looking forward to his visits.

She found herself feeling the same warmth and tranquility she always felt when she was with Alberu.

And that scared her more than anything else.

“Love, are you okay?”

(Y/n) gave the man in front of her a small smile.

“Of course.”

Alberu frowned. (Y/n) had been very quiet for the past few days. He also noticed how she tried to avoid his eyes most of the time. He had an inkling as to why that might be, but it was still concerning to see her starting to lose appetite.

With a wave of his hand, the servants waiting on them in the greenhouse they were having their meal in left them.

The Emperor gently took his wife’s hand on his own, his thumb rubbing her knuckles absentmindedly.

He noted how (y/n) never lifted her head up to look him in the eyes.

“(Y/n).”

It did the trick as her head immediately snapped up to look at him.

Alberu rarely called (y/n) by her name. He always used pet names, most of the time ‘love’. It was a habit he’d had since their courting days; when Alberu was but a youth craving for love in the midst of his lonely days in the Palace. While he still occasionally called out her name, as he did love her name as much as he loved her, the amount of times had dropped low since the day they married a little less than a year ago.

And thus to hear Alberu calling her name in a serious tone like this ought to surprise her enough to make her abandon her attempt at avoidance.

Alberu’s eyes softened when he took in the sight of her surprise (and was that worry?).

“(Y/n), love,” he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, once again trying to pretend not to notice her flinching, “something is bothering you, isn’t it? Won’t you tell me? I’d like to help you.”

(Y/n)’s throat tightened as she tried to futilely swallow back the heaviness that seemed to choke her, the dryness in her mouth preventing the action.

Alberu was… sweet.

He’d done nothing but be a loving and supporting partner for her since the day they began courting.

He was the epitome of a perfect significant other; a spouse who never failed to be a gentleman and a lover.

Looks, personality, wealth, affection, he had them all.

So how could she turn away from such a man so easily?

How could her heart betray her like this?

But I still love Alberu, her traitorous heart whispered.

It’s not like my love for him diminished…

‘That’s not the point!’ Her rational mind screamed back.

‘You still betrayed him! His love! His TRUST!’

(Y/n) took in Alberu’s gaze, filled with love and worry.

That’s right, I betrayed him.

And he doesn’t deserve this.

I have to tell him.

It’s the least I can do…

“Alberu,” she called out softly.

“Yes, my love?” He answered, lips still brushing against her knuckles.

(Y/n) took a deep breath, ignoring the prickling on the corner of her eyes and focusing on stopping her voice from wavering.

“I love you.”

Alberu smiled gently.

“I-”

“But I have betrayed you.”

Alberu’s words were cut off as he blinked in surprise.

(Y/n) still couldn’t bring himself to look Alberu in his eyes.

“I betrayed your trust,” she managed to choke out, “I tainted our sacred promise and let you down. I’m unfaithful, a disgrace to your name.”

The forlorn Empress closed her eyes and bowed her head. No words escaped her mouth after the broken confession. What else could she do now but expect the worst?

Alberu was known far and wide as a ruler with seemingly unlimited patience, but people also know not to test that theory. Nobody wronged the quarter Dark Elf and got away with it scot free. (Y/n) knew that better than anyone.

Her dear husband may seem patient, but he wasn’t exactly forgiving. Alberu had a nearly perfect control over his emotions; even those who committed wrongdoings against him to his face wouldn’t expect him planning their downfall right before their eyes.

Alberu Crossman was not, in any way, a man to cross.

And (y/n) had just done the exact thing.

Fear gripped her heart like a vice.

She knew Alberu wouldn’t hurt her. Be it physically or socially. Alberu might be ruthless to his enemies, but she’d been with him for years. His love (if there would still be any left after this…) wouldn’t guide him to inflict harm on her. He would be angry, perhaps, but he wouldn’t lay a hand on her. She was sure of it.

But to see and receive his disappointment?

It would be the greatest pain and punishment.

And I deserve it, she told herself.

(Y/n) flinched when she heard Alberu’s chair creaking and felt him moving away.

This is it. This is the end.

Her effort to keep her tears in, so as to not appear as though she was begging for sympathy, was starting to fail.

He’ll ask who occupies my heart when it’s supposed to only be him.

He’ll find out about young master Cale and it will ruin their relationship.

This will ruin everything.

(Y/n) bit her lower lip to hold back a sob.

I’m ruining everything.

The moment a tear escaped and slid down her cheek, she felt a pair of familiar arms engulfed her in a warm embrace.

Her eyes snapped open.

“Please don’t cry, love,” Alberu murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. One of his hands was gently pressing her head to his shoulder, while his other arm held her close.

His soft words broke the dam she worked so hard on building.

(Y/n) cried.

——————————

Alberu gently brushed his thumb on (y/n)’s tear stricken cheek.

When (y/n) started breaking down, Alberu teleported both of them to the privacy of their bedroom, away from any prying eyes or ears. He knew that his dear wife would feel better this way.

He held onto her as she cried her heart out, her mouth spewing out apologies after apologies, blaming herself and begging for his forgiveness. He replied to each of them softly, telling her that there was nothing to forgive, asking her to not put any blame on herself. It was a futile attempt as the tears kept streaming down her face.

When her body trembled with each sob, Alberu would tighten his arms around her, as if reminding her that he was there for her and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Her cry truly broke his heart.

As her cry began to subside, Alberu guided her to sit on the edge of their bed.

(Y/n)’s eyes were red and she still trembled slightly, but the tears no longer rolled down her cheeks.

Alberu reached for the jug of water that was always available beside their bed and poured a cup, giving it to the worn-out young Empress and urging her to take a sip.

After ensuring that she was indeed drinking the water, Alberu rubbed his face tiredly.

“(Y/n), love…” Alberu started with a sigh. He noticed how (y/n) cowered at his sigh and quickly spoke, “I’m not angry. I promise.”

(Y/n) didn’t react, but he could see her grip on the cup tightening. He reached for the cup and gently took it away, placing it on the nightstand.

Alberu knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles the way he did in the greenhouse.

“It’s not your fault,” he said once again.

He could see (y/n) starting to waver again.

“...how is it not my fault?” She finally spoke, her voice hoarse.

“I broke my vow. I cheated on you.”

Alberu shook his head.

“You didn’t cheat on me, (y/n).”

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped up quickly, “And how do you know that?”

The Emperor reached a hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

“It’s Cale, isn’t it?”

This time, he didn’t pretend not to notice her flinching.

“Y-You knew…?”

Alberu sighed once again.

“It’s my fault, actually,” Alberu mumbled.

“Wha- No! How is it your fault?!” (Y/n) asked incredulously. “Alberu, you’re the best husband anyone could ever ask for! It’s my fault that my heart easily swayed away!”

“First of all,” Alberu quickly cut her off when she was going to speak up again, “even if there was any infidelity, it was never only one party’s fault, okay? It, ah, how did Cale phrase it? It takes two to dangle? No, to tango?”

“But-”

“And second,” Alberu cut her off again, “this is actually both mine and Cale’s fault. And not in the way that you’re thinking about.”

(Y/n) blinked once.

“What do you mean?”

Alberu raised from his position and sat beside (y/n), shoulders touching.

“How do I explain this…”

——————————

A few months before the annual celebration…

Alberu didn’t even lift his head when he felt the telltale of familiar mana manifesting in his office.

“What is it this time?” He asked with a deadpan, still focusing on his work.

The Southern region still suffers from the last drought… Southeast more so than Southwest. Is Marquis Ailan’s faction acting up again?

He scoffed at the thought. Really, even after his ascension to the throne some nobles still wriggled like worms in his path. When would they learn to give up?

With a click of his tongue, Alberu wrote down a few notes to talk about the Southern region at an upcoming nobles meeting. Now that Antonio Gyerre was the Duke who supported Cale and, by extension, Alberu, making sure the Southern region was properly taken care of was easier than before.

Once he finished writing the points he was going to attack discuss with the nobles, he finally realized something was off.

It was quiet.

Alberu lifted his head.

As he thought, the one responsible for the mana was his dongsaeng. Well, it was actually Eruhaben, but definitely at Cale’s request. Which was also weird, because normally it would be Raon who teleported Cale. The young Dragon took pride in taking care of his weak human, after all.

Usually, whenever Cale visited him, he would sit down and munch on Alberu’s cookies immediately. Most of the time he’d also shower Alberu with useless compliments and act so rudely that older generations would have a heart attack if they were to witness it.

At least one of his kids would also tag along, most often Raon who was responsible for teleporting him. The kids were always loud and full of chatter. Not that Alberu mind, he enjoyed watching the children being children, supplying them with endless amounts of desserts in meantime.

So for the room to be this quiet when his dearly beloved sworn brother was there, well… Something must be wrong.

Cale stood in the middle of the room silently, eyes downcast and very noticeably alone. None of his children or his allies were with him. Alberu could see the faint glimmer of golden dust about to dissipate, proving that the Ancient Dragon was indeed the one who sent Cale there.

Alberu quickly put down his pen.

“Cale? Are you okay?” Alberu asked, worry evident in his voice.

“...hyung.”

Cale’s weak voice alarmed Alberu.

He’d never heard Cale this defeated before.

Something must be very, very wrong.

Alberu immediately rose from his seat and briskly walked towards his sworn brother. The moment he laid a hand upon the red haired young noble’s shoulder, Alberu could feel him tensing up.

“Cale, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Cale opened his mouth, as if to say something, but a moment passed with nothing said and he shut his mouth again.

Frowning, Alberu gently led Cale to sit on the sofa. Once he was seated, Alberu went to the cupboard on one side of the room. Just like in his bedroom, there were simple magic cooking devices underneath it. With practiced moves, Alberu brewed a tea he always drank whenever he felt stressed.

Alberu couldn’t see it because his back was towards Cale, but Cale was looking at him. A million thoughts seemed to run in his mind as he tried to decide how to tell his hyung the conflict waging war in him.

Not long afterwards, Alberu set down a cup filled with freshly brewed tea in front of Cale.

Cale reached for the tea and took in the sweet fragrance of lavender.

“Are you okay?” Alberu quietly asked as he sat in front of the ex-Commander.

“...yeah.”

“You’re not hurt or dying, are you?” He asked again, just to be sure. His sworn brother was known for his lack of self preservation after all.

“What? No.”

The young Emperor let out a small, relieved sigh before getting alert again.

“Wait, is someone else hurt or dying?” He hurriedly asked.

Because while Cale showed little care towards himself, his love towards his friends and family was even greater. If Cale was this distraught… could it be-?!

“No, hyung-nim, no one is hurt or dying.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Alberu leaned back towards the sofa, adopting a relaxed stance. Being in Cale’s presence was truly one of those rare occasions where he could let his guard down.

Silence engulfed the room for a moment, and it wasn’t for a lack of trying to fill said silence. Cale’s lips repeatedly parted, words already on the tip of his tongue, before he decided against uttering what ailed him again and again.

It was Alberu who finally broke the silence, a few moments after observing the younger man in front of him struggling.

Let’s just talk about something else, he thought.

He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I shouldn’t force him. Time to distract him, then.

“So,” Alberu started, taking a sip of his own tea, “what have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in, what, a month? More?”

His own plan backfired as he noticed Cale visibly flinched at his question.

Alberu put down his teacup with a light clink.

Something happened this past month. May have something to do with me. There was no report of out-of-the-norm activities around Forest of Darkness or Henituse territory, and I was the only person in Cale’s circle not to meet him this past month. The one who lives in Roan, at least.

He frowned.

Mm, didn’t I call for him a few weeks ago? And he said he had something to do? Did something happen then?

One of his fingers traced the lip of his cup absentmindedly.

But Cale isn’t someone who kept important things from me. Not when it concerns me, at least. I can trust him on that.

Come to think of it, I called for him three times this month. He always refused, a lot of excuses. Believable ones, but isn’t it a bit suspicious? Is it something serious?

…Or was he just avoiding me? But why?

“Cale.”

“...yes?”

“Were you avoiding me?”

Flinch.

Alberu pursed his lips. Right on the head, huh?

Now, normally, Alberu would straight on go to teasing mode. He’d plaster on the fakest smile he could muster and let an abundance of the slickest, most extravagant praises roll off his glib tongue, unnerving the young master to the point of confession.

But Cale was not just unnerved. He was scared.

That flinch was very alarmingly visible.

And as annoying as his dongsaeng was, Alberu still loved that little gremlin. He cared for this sacrificial transmigrator more than he would admit.

“It’s okay if you are,” he finally said with a sigh.

Cale’s eyes immediately went towards Alberu.

“...What?”

Alberu scoffed.

“Cale, you’re one of the only people I trust with my whole life. I trust you and your decisions. I just wish to know the reason behind it. Did I do something wrong?”

When Cale still didn’t dare voice his reason, Alberu spoke again, “And I also know that if you really don’t want to tell me, then you won’t be here. But here we are. Eruhaben-nim pushed you, didn’t he? That’s why he was the one who teleported you, not Raon.”

This was definitely one of those times Cale cursed the perceptiveness of his sworn brother.

“Take your time, though. If Eruhaben-nim sent you here alone, then I assume we have a lot of time.”

Alberu pushed a jar of cookies closer to Cale.

“I just restocked your favorite, by the way. There’s more tea in the teapot, help yourself. I’ll finish up today’s paperwork and we’ll talk when you feel like it.”

Alberu stood up and stretched a bit.

“Will you stay over for dinner? I’m sure (y/n) will be happy to have-”

“No!”

“-you?”

Cale quickly looked away, as if he didn’t mean to shout and cut off Alberu’s words. Too late though, the damage was done.

“Wait…” Alberu pulled a face, “Is your problem with (y/n) and not me?”

Cale winced.

“No? I don’t have a… problem with anyone…” Cale answered very convincingly.

Alberu deadpanned.

“You know, for someone who is incredibly good at acting, you suck at lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“Mhm. Whatever helps you sleep at night, dongsaeng.”

When Cale only pouted (and that was honestly adorable, Alberu had to admit that), Alberu plopped back down to the sofa. His adorable dongsaeng was finally feeling like talking, how could he miss this chance?

“So,” he started, leaning forward slightly, “enlighten me, dear dongsaeng, of what my wife could’ve done to make you avoid me or, well, her.”

Alberu nearly cursed himself when Cale once again flinched and turned away.

I said something wrong again?! Oh dragons almighty (y/n) love what did you do to this guy?

Should I just call her here? Maybe Cale wants to talk to her without me here?

Before he could ask if he should call (y/n), Cale’s voice interrupted him.

“Whatever you’re thinking about right now, stop it. I-I’ll talk. To you. Just you.”

Alberu leaned back, fingers interlacing on his laps, and watched Cale take a deep breath.

“Hyung.”

“Yes, dongsaeng?”

“I… I like-” He slightly choked on the beginning of the name, “I like… I like-!”

“Hey, Cale, calm down, it’s okay,” Alberu hurriedly said as he witnessed Cale struggling with his words.

The poor young master’s face was flushed, either with embarrassment or frustration. Had Alberu not known better, he would’ve thought that Cale caught a fever. What did the ex-Commander like for him to struggle so much in admitting?

Alberu paused.

Wait a second…

If he only wants to tell me about it… Then…

Alberu sucked in a surprised breath, his face starting to flush as well.

Oh shit. That explains why he doesn’t want (y/n) here.

“Cale…” He started, voice a bit strained, “I… I’m flattered, really, and anyone who receives your affection is truly one of the luckiest people in the world, no matter who or what they identify as. You deserve everything after all you’ve done.”

Unsure what to say next, Alberu averted his eyes, missing the bewildered look Cale gave him.

“It’s just… I… I’m married, Cale.”

Once again, the room was filled with silence.

Alberu, with his skin flushed nearly as red as Cale’s hair, couldn’t look at Cale.

While Cale himself was staring at Alberu incredulously.

Both lost in either embarrassment or confusion, neither realized how Alberu didn’t reject Cale’s supposed feelings for him.

#alberu crossman x reader #cale henituse x reader #alberu crossman x reader x cale henituse #alver crossman x reader #alver crossman #alberu crossman #cale henituse #trash of the count's family #tcf #lcf #lout of the count's family #alcale #tcf x reader #lcf x reader

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lovefromskyee · 5 months

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10/04/24

I have officially completed the first week of my AS levels, and I'm not going to lie, things are going much better than I expected them to?

I have been very close to mainly one group of 3-4 other girls, and I told them I was bi today, and they all accepted me, which was really such a huge weight off my chest. I casually just mentioned it in conversation when one of them said that they never had a friend who was gay, so I just immediately for some reason replied with "well, I'm bi, so-" and then they all just stopped for a second and went "oh, that's great" and stuff, there wasn't much of a discussion to it which I appreciated SO much.

We also played badminton today, and it was so much fun. I became much closer to some of the new students with the game too, because we kept having to take turns and we were playfully arguing about if we were out yet or not and it was all so much fun.

I don't think this new class is better than our old one, honestly. The dynamics in our old class were genuinely the best, and all of my bestest memories were from there, but this class is definitely incredibly great and special in its own way. For one, we finally have more girls than boys in our class, and that is still so surreal. And the people from my old class who I was actually close to, I'm still in contact with, so I'm not in that deep of a state of mourning anymore.

Our studies have ramped up so drastically too, though! I have no idea how to even start revising for Biology, and we've already completed the first 15-20 pages with almost ten pages of notes, and a bunch of diagrams which I'm not quite sure what to do with yet. I'm just hoping I'll figure it out soon, and not actually fall behind my studies at any time. Fingers crossed!

I love sociology so much too! It's one of the new subjects I have this year, and I love the classes so much. Our teacher is so much fun, and I get to yap for 45 minutes every day, which is never going to be something I complain about honestly. We have to research on cults as homework for friday, and I'm researching on the cult of cybele, which is basically this ancient religious cult that predates the roman empire, and became infamous FOR how popular it became, where it was a threat to the actual roman leaders. If you can't tell already, I'm having a lot of fun.

I went through my Wattpad today too, and I found this old therapy book that I unpublished in the year of our lord 2023, which was originally just a bunch of motivational speeches for my very mentally unstable followers at the time. I kinda want to do something like that again, but I have no idea how. Maybe if I do, it's going to be private, but we'll see, I guess.

My favourite song right now is red wine supernova by chappell roan, and it's been on repeat for days now, so I will most definitely reccomend it to anyone reading this right now.

I don't know why exactly, but I'm really missing ninth grade these past few days. Maybe it's because my brother has just entered it, or maybe it's because it was the first year I had offline with the people who would become so important to me in just the span of a year or two, but random memories from 2022 are just playing in my head, but I'm not sad about it? I don't know, I'm a little glad I'm not the girl I was then, no matter how much nostalgia she's bringing me right now. She had a lot of stuff to work through, and she's gotten me so far, but this is where I have to leave her now, if that makes sense? I'm so grateful for all the progress she's made, but she's not there anymore, and I don't think that fact is something I mourn actually.

Even if I don't want to admit it, my personality has changed a lot with this new class, but in the best way possible. I don't have to be unnecessarily mean to be scary anymore, and I'm telling people I love them and saying compliments whenever they're at the tip of my tongue, and I'm smiling so much more now and laughing so loudly, and somehow, I've stopped caring how my teeth or my neck or my jawline look when I do so? I've made friends much more easier than I expected to, and they're all so nice and smart and funny and pretty, and I don't have to get them scared of me to listen to me, because they care about me and understand where I draw my boundaries anyway. It took so long for the people from our older class to get that sometimes (not that I didn't love them just as much), so it's actually kind of surprising how safe I feel with these people considering that they're practically strangers, you know? Maybe I'm just rambling now hahah.

Okay I really do have to get back to my sociology and psychology homework now, so this is where this entry will have to end. If you're reading this, I hope you literally have the best day ever, and I hope that your favourite person gets you flowers and you go outside on an annoyingly hot day only for it to start raining, and I hope you only have good hair days for the rest of your life. I love you!

Love from Skye <3

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blueteller · 2 years

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TCF Summary Arc by Arc (Part 2/8)

Every TCF story arc in a nutshell

Volume 2: chapters 100-199

[< Previous] [Index] [Next >]

Dragon Worshippers, Act 1 Cale: According to the novel all Elves are obsessive dragon simps, so let's avoid- Obante: Gasp! That aura! Sir, are you a dragon?? Cale: (Well f***) Raon: Hello! The Dark Elves: *simp mode activated* Cale: (IGNORE) *Cale mistaken for a dragon counter: 2*

Securing Allies Cale: *at the Jungle, Roan, Breck and Whipper Kingdoms* You get an alliance, you get an alliance, you get an alliance, everybody gets an alliance! Alberu: *headache mode activated* …You're driving me nuts

Dragon Worshippers, Act 2 Cale: I need to visit this mountain to get the fire power, but there's an Elf Village nearby, so let's avoid- Jeet: Gasp! That aura! Is that a dragon?? Cale: (Well f***) Cale: Raon, spin in circles for a bit Raon: (Spinning is so much fun!) Jeet: (There's no way such a dignified creature would be spinning. That red-haired dragon must be doing it for a distraction!) Jeet: *simp mode activated* Cale: (IGNORE) *Cale mistaken for a dragon counter: 3*

Saving the Elf Village Cale: *throws 2 billion gallons from Alberu's bank account into lava* Raon: 🤯 Cale: *laughs in Rich* [Fire Ancient Power: Fire of Destruction, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 5.5* Cale: Great, I've got all the full power set I wanted. Now let's just- Pendrick: Would you mind saving our village? Cale: (Well f***) Arm: Haha, we're going to poison all of you Elves with dead mana and steal your branch of the World Tree! Cale: Oh look, free dead mana Arm: Huh?! It's those bastards in fake uniforms again!! Cale: *blasts them with fire* Also Cale: *coughs blood and faints* Cale's group: *turns murderous* Arm: Wait, we didn't even- Cale's group: *goes on a war path* *Cale coughs blood and/or faints counter: 2* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 6*

Dragon Worshippers, Act 3 Cale: *wakes up in a flower garden Disney princess style* Cale: Wait, it's been 3 days? Why are you all still in the same outfits?? Cale's group: *awkward* The Elves: He's got a dragon's protection! The Elves: *simp mode activated* Cale: Oh look, free manual labor

Scamming Toonka, But Also With ✨Friendship✨ Cale: *discovers very important research in the Magic Tower* Cale: How about I copy half of it and sell it back to Toonka for the price I bought the tower for? Alberu: It wasn't even YOUR money, you bastard. Sell it back for half the price and have them eternally grateful to you. Cale: Sounds good. Choi Han, act Choi Han: What. Is. This. How. Odd- Cale: I am never letting you act again Toonka: So generous!! My friend!!! Cale: I am very generous, aren't I Toonka: *trust mode levels up* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 7*

Meeting Eruhaben Pendrick: So there's an ancient dragon who lives nearby Cale: Hell n- Raon: Yay! Another dragon! Cale: … Cale: (Well f***) Raon: Hello! Nice to meet you! Eruhaben: What is this?? A social dragon??? Raon: Yep! Wow, you're loaded Eruhaben: Of course I am. You might as well inherit it all since I'll be dying soon anyway- Raon: You're my granpa now Eruhaben: Wait what Raon: You're going to teach me? Eruhaben: I guess…? Raon: We're all staying here for free by the way Eruhaben: (…Why do I feel like I'm getting scammed??) Cale: *proud* (I taught him well)

Meeting the Sun Twins Cale: *randomly stumbles across Jack and Hannah* Cale: (Well f***) Jack: You must be from the Empire, here to silence us for our intricate knowledge of your shady deeds!! Cale: *realizes he just got a goldmine of information and a trump card against the Empire on his hands* Cale: There's no reason not to adopt these children who are actually around my age

Becoming the Avatar Eruhaben: By the way, you realize you're supposed to blow up and die from multiple ancient powers, right? Cale: Wait what Eruhaben: If you want to live you have to gather all 5 attributes to balance out your plate Cale: (Well f***) Eruhaben: That's close to impossible of course, but I wish you luck- Cale: Found it Eruhaben: Wait what [Earth Ancient Power: Super Rock, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 6.5* Cale: *gets a fully furnished villa as a bonus* Also Cale: (My water power's an exhaustible resource... but I'm sure that won't bite me in the a** later!)

Officiating the Alliance Cale: *goes around helping, adopting and providing people with precious resources to makes themselves stronger* Also Cale: It's so nice to be a nobody Alberu: Come with me to the alliance meeting. Just act like your usual self Cale: (You mean sitting still and doing nothing? Perfect) Everyone: Look! It's Cale Henituse!! *simp mode activated* Cale: (IGNORE)

Helping Toonka, Still With ✨Friendship✨ Toonka: *calling* Hi friend! We got a bit of trouble here, but don't worry, we'll be fine! Cale: … Cale: I'm coming over Toonka: Wait, wha-? Raon: You're such a good person, human! Cale: *brings in healers and potions when no one asked* (What nonsense is this child talking about?) Toonka: *trust mode maxed out* Cale: *disguises himself as an extremely holy-looking priest* Also Cale: I'm sure this won't bite me in the a** later *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 8*

Adopting the Tiger Tribe Gashan: Here he is, the man who is leading a new life Ron: That shaman seems legit. He knows how the young master used to be trash Witira: Young master used to be trash?? Mary: Impossible. He's not trash Choi Han: He only acted like trash Cale: I'm still trash Everyone: … Gashan: Anyway, Nature told me you would give us a new place to live Cale: No wa- Gashan: We got bribes Cale: -there's no reason not to adopt more Beast People into my zoo- I mean Harris Village Also Cale: *causes a natural disaster and destroys Arm's fleet just because he can* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 9*

Field Trip to the Empire Alberu: Go with me to "investigate" in the Empire Cale: How about no Alberu: You'll have looting opportunities Cale: Sign me the f*** up Adin: *fake smiles* Cale: (I despise this psycho to my core) Rex: *shows up to blow up the imperial palace* Cale: *saves the day with a holy-looking shield* Everyone: HERO!!! Cale: (Well f***) Adin: Thank you so much, here's a medal for your heroism Cale: (I am going to DESTROY him) *Cale coughs blood and/or faints counter: 3* *2 Divine Items has been added to the Inventory*

Dragon Worshippers, Act 4 Cale: We're going to see the World Tree The Whales: Be warned, the Elves are a**holes Cale: Great The Whales: Huh? Cale: Have you ever seen Elves next to a dragon? The Whales: Uh, no? Why? Raon: Hello! The Elves: *simp mode activated* The Whales: (WTF is this??) Adite: *throws money at Cale* Cale: Uh? Adite: Please don't set the World Tree on fire Cale: *pockets the money* I mean, since you've asked

Meeting the World Tree World Tree: Just so you know, the gods chop off my branches if I give too much exposition Cale: Fair enough, so what can you tell me? World Tree: There's an a**hole with 3 ancient powers, you're going to need the water power, and Raon's mom is important to the plot World Tree: *loses 3 branches* Cale: ...Was that really too much exposition? World Tree: The gods are a**holes too, you know

Enter Clopeh Cale: Let's go to Paerun Kingdom Cale's group: Why? Cale: For a festival Cale's group: Oh how nice- Cale: Also to set a lake on fire Cale's group: Huh? Cale: And to loot Arm again Cale's group: Ah. Choi Han: Cale-nim, why do we keep using those knock-off uniforms? Cale: To annoy them, obviously Choi Han: Your intellect never ceases to amaze me Clopeh: *sees priest Cale* Gasp! A divine sign! My legend is drawing near!! Cale: (…why did I get chills all of a sudden?) *Cale coughs blood and/or faints counter: 4* *Dragon Crown (Key Item) has been added to the Inventory* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 10*

Messing Up Slave Traders Cale: *acts like a drunkard* Antonio: Humph, no way that guy is a REAL noble Cale: *smashes some houses to reveal an illegal slave trade ring* Cale: So your people were involved in this mess Antonio: (…well s***) Cale: Now I'm blackmailing you- Antonio: (Oh f***!) Cale: -to do your job properly. Just be on my side and protect the kingdom Antonio: (So he IS a REAL noble!!) Antonio: *admiration mode activated* *Cale coughs blood and/or faints counter: 5* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 11*

Cale at the Auction Plavin: How much for the Determination of Fire? Cale: 30 billion Plavin: You motherf***er. *pays* Sun Church Bishop: How much for the Night's Exultation? Cale: 23 billion Sun Church Bishop: You son of a b****. *pays* Cale: *spoiling the kids rotten on a shopping spree* I'm rich now The kids: …But you were already rich? Hilsman: *touched* Look at our young master Silver Light, he's so generous!!

Cale Gets a Promotion Alberu: So the Wyvern Knight Brigade has been revived, huh Cale: Make me in charge of everything Alberu: *shrugs* Fair enough Nobles: *at Cale* Who do you think you are?! Cale: *shows them the badge* I'm the Commander, b****es.

The War Begins Indomitable Alliance: We will start our glorious conquest with the Henituse Territory! *brings in the wyverns and the Bear Tribe* Clopeh: I shall become a legend! Cale: I'm about to end this man's whole career.

End Volume 2.

[< Previous] [Index] [Next >]

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of count's family #summary #story arc #tcf funny summary series #tcf humor #tcf hilarious moments #tcf volume 2

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justsomeboredgirl · 3 years

Text

"It is fine to use my powers for the Empire as much as you want. The Empire and the Roan Kingdom are friends. I also wish to help the Empire out as I have received a medal of honor.”

Adin had to hold back from laughing at Cale Henituse, this hero of justice.

‘That kind of mindset is useless

- tocf chapter 292

hero of justice... i dont know how to break it to you adin, but you got scammed bro

but anyway im so glad this idiot imperial prince will get what's coming for him MUAHAHAHAHAHA

#this chapter is so funny #best scammer cale #adin is goin down hahahaha #cale henituse #tocf #trash of the count's family #lout of count’s family #currently rereading

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erinsusername · 3 years

Text

Turn

Pairing ~ Agent Kallus, OC

Rating ~ PG-13

Word Count ~ 4850

Summary ~ Lt. Kalivoda meets Agent Kallus for the first time and keeps doing it whether she wants to or not.

AO3 link ~ https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074598/chapters/74069184

Invisible.

Lt. Roan Kalivoda was completely invisible to everyone around her and she preferred it that way. In the eleven years that she had worked as a droid technician for the Empire she had made no friends. She did have a careless and desperate attempt to fill a painful void with another tech that never evolved past anything physical at the beginning of her career, but after that, she made a point to keep to herself, do her job, and repeat without incident. It was exactly how she intended to get by when she joined the Empire back in her early twenties and it had worked well in her favor since. She kept her head down and did what they expected and she got what she needed in return.

She liked her assignment on Lothal. It had been a quiet planet, unresisting in its slow destruction by the Empire’s ravaging of its natural resources; that was until a small group of rebels began creating chaos a few years ago. The Imperial response had been borderline comical in its ineptitude when dealing with them, and the determined yet painfully pretentious ISB agent that was sent to capture them had been completely unsuccessful in almost every attempt. Even Vader himself had failed to turn Lothal’s residents against them. These people were good.

What fresh hell will today bring, Roan thought as she sighed heavily and looked deep into the reflection staring back at her in a small mirror hanging in her quarters. She hadn’t slept much the night before, or the night before that. In fact, she hadn’t slept well since she was twelve if she wanted to get technical with herself.

Stop. She blinked hard a few times and quickly pulled her dark hair into its regulation bun before haphazardly placing her uniform cap just above it. The woman took one quick, last look before she exited out into the bright hallway and slowly made her way to the lift at the far end of it.

She was busy fumbling with her uncooperative headpiece in the doors' reflection when they suddenly opened and the ISB agent, Kallus, appeared directly in front of her, his feet slightly apart and hands clasped firmly behind his back. He stared down his broad nose at her with a slightly raised eyebrow before she thought to bring her arms down to her sides and step onto the lift with him.

Roan had never actually seen the man in person but had heard that he carried himself as if he were the Emperor, and judging by what stood before her, it appeared the rumor was true. He was very tall, stood with a naturally intimidating stance, and his stoic, unreadable expression, along with his piercing hazel brown eyes, exuded abject confidence that she could literally feel pressing hard all around her from the moment she stepped onto the lift.

When she boarded he did not step back to allow her a comfortable space to stand forcing her to situate herself with her face just a few inches from the closed doors and himself close enough behind her that she could feel his body heat almost instantly. Or maybe it was her own that was rising rapidly, she wasn’t sure.

She immediately felt his gaze over the top of her head and straightened her posture as she quickly pushed the button to the level that would take her to the commissary. It felt to her like the lift was barely moving, which allowed more than enough time for his mere presence to completely encompass the now heavy air surrounding them and cause a subtle stir deep inside of her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long, long while. She closed her eyes, took in a slow, deep breath, and let out a long, quiet exhale before there was finally a small beep that indicated they had reached the level that the Agent had previously chosen. However, much to her dismay, when the doors opened he didn’t move to exit.

Roan said nothing as the doors closed and they restarted the merciless creep further down into the domed military base. The only sounds she heard were the hard, intense wooshing of blood in her ears broken only by the occasional sound of the leather of his gloves being stretched and relaxed by the slow movements of the long fingers of his hands.

The man was close enough to her that not only did the subtle fragrance of the fancy non-issue soap that he had obviously just washed his body with surround and linger in her nose, but she could feel each rise and fall of his broad chest with every slow, steady breath that he took and she knew that if she moved so much as a millimeter the two would incidentally touch. The mere thought of it made her face flush hot.

Stop it! You’re being ridiculous. You know better, she scolded herself.

She was so focused on his proximity, and her fear that the low hum of the elevator wasn’t loud enough to mask the sound of the pounding of her heart in her chest that when the lift reached her destination she didn’t initially realize it.

“Isn’t this your stop?” a smooth, low voice in a thick core accent came from just above her right ear, the heat of his breath caused every single hair on her body to stand erect.

“Huh? Oh, yes,” she stammered as she clamored her way out of the closing doors and toward the commissary.

Fuck, that was intense, she thought as she practically ran around a corner that led her into the open area where the base’s meals were served. Having shaken off a few of the nerves from her encounter, she turned toward a large cooler in a corner. Her call time was later than most so on most days picking was slim, but today she was in luck. Sitting alone on the back of a middle shelf was a rare container of sliced meilooruns.

Ha, no protein bar today she thought happily as she quickly made her way across the room and grabbed the cup before anyone else had the chance.

“Why thank you!” a familiar voice mocked her as she turned, and the cup was snatched from her hand by an arrogant Ensign that was almost half her age and the bane of the entire base’s existence.

“I’m not in the mood,” she growled as she reached to take it back only to have the boy pull it above his head and tick a finger back and forth in her face causing the two other boys he was with to roar with laughter.

“Finders keepers,” he laughed as he turned on his heel to walk away.

The woman let out a long exacerbated sigh. “You’ll need the fork,” she resigned and held up the utensil in front of her.

“What a gal!” the Ensign howled back to his friends as he reached out to take it from her. But as he did, she quickly extended her arm as far out to her side as she could and when he looked she reached over with her other hand and slapped the top of the cup he was holding so hard that the lid popped off and the fruit pieces scattered across the floor.

“You stupid bitch!” he screamed loud enough to cause the entire room to go silent and everyone in it to stop and look at the spectacle.

So much for invisible.

“That’s a superior officer you are speaking to,” the thick accent from the elevator boomed through the silence and stopped Lt. Kalivoda’s, and probably everyone else’s, heart immediately.

She looked past the boy to see Agent Kallus standing a few feet behind the two punks that had been laughing along with the Ensign and his theatrics, except now they were visibly shaking.

“Yeah, well you obviously don’t know who I-,” the boy mocked as he turned to face his aggressor before he realized his mistake.

“I know exactly who you are. I had wondered how someone from such a prestigious pedigree ended up way out here on a no name planet in the far outer rim. Now I know. Tell me, did you even manage to finish the academy or did they just put you this far out so no one would ask questions?” Kallus asked callously as he slowly circled the boy like he was injured prey. “Your mother must be so proud.”

“You can’t spea-,” the Ensign began to protest.

“Apologize,” the Agent interrupted.

The boy hesitated for a long few seconds before he finally rubbed the back of his neck, “I, uh, yeah, I’m sorry, sir.”

“Not to me, imbecile,” he growled as he tilted his head toward Roan.

The Ensign looked momentarily surprised before he reluctantly conceded, “sorry,” he mumbled while looking at the floor.

“Do better,” the Agent commanded. He was now standing directly behind the Ensign that he towered over due to an impressive height difference.

The boy looked shocked. Roan had never seen anyone take him to task before. Most people were afraid to because of who his family was, but not Agent Kallus. He was relishing in his assault.

The Ensign cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he squeaked out before he looked back at the Agent for affirmation.

“Do better,” he simply said again.

The kid looked absolutely horrified by this point. “What would you like for me to do, then?” he asked with a tinge of moronic sarcasm.

Kallus coolly walked to his side and leaned down to his other ear, “get on your knees.”

“What? You can’t make me do that!” the boy stammered as he tried to turn to move away; however, before he could the Agent grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face Roan.

She wanted to run away as fast as she could but her legs wouldn’t work. Part of her was actually loving the humiliation of the asshole in front of her but another part was vicariously embarrassed and she knew if she tried to leave that she would end up on the punishment end of this bizarre encounter as well. And after the intimidation in the elevator, she wasn’t about to risk that.

Kallus leaned down and whispered something into the Ensign’s ear that made his eyes grow wide and a few seconds later drop to his knees.

“Lt. Kalivoda,” he began before the Agent nudged him with his large boot causing him to clasp his hands together in front of his chest. “I would like to extend my most sincere apology for my behavior.”

She looked up wide eyed from the boy to the Agent who was looking down with an almost mischievous grin across his lips.

He’s enjoying this.

“I hope that you can forgive me for my unacceptable actions,” the Ensign finished.

Kallus looked up to notice that she was still looking at him and she instantly covered with a small cough and quickly moved her gaze back down to the matter at hand that knelt on the floor in front of her.

“Do you accept his apology?” he asked her seriously.

She was tempted to say no to see what else he was capable of, but opted to end the situation as fast as possible instead. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” the Agent asked her, his hazel eyes transfixed on her own so deeply that a few seconds went by before she realized that she wasn’t breathing when he asked again, “Lieutenant?”

“Yes. That is fine,” she replied standing up straighter and clasping her hands behind her back.

“Good. Get up,” he barked down at the Ensign as the boy clamored to his feet. He grabbed his arm and pointed at Roan, “mess with her, or anyone for that matter again, and you’ll be emptying vac-tubes by hand on Hoth for the rest of your career. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the kid said with a hint of defiance before his arm was released and he and his friends made a quick escape around a corner.

The people in the room began to slowly go back to their business, but Kallus and Roan just stood and stared at each other in silence for what she thought was an eternity.

“Why did you let him do that? You outrank him,” he asked angrily.

“He gets away with everything because of who he is. I’ve made numerous complaints. Nothing ever happens,” she replied matter of factly. “Also, while I sincerely appreciate you stepping in, you just made things a thousand times worse.”

He took a step closer and put a finger toward her chest, “if he so much as looks at you wro-,”

“Again, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t need a protector,” she scoffed. “I need to get going. Thank you for your help,” she smiled and nodded as she made her way out of the commissary and to the safety of her workstation.

By fourteen hundred, Lt. Kalivoda’s stomach was growling hard. With the bizarre fiasco of the morning she had missed out on actually getting something to eat and it was starting to show.

It wasn’t the only thing that was bothering her either. While she was grateful for the Agent’s backup in the commissary, the more she thought about it the more annoyed she was with his behavior in the lift. Or, at least she considered it annoyed, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t take lightly to intimidation, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about how unintimidated she was by it.

Did she get flustered? Unequivocally. Seduced? Not even close. Okay, perhaps maybe slightly beguiled at the most. Stars, he did smell wonderful though. Like trees on a warm summer evening in Naboo.

That is dangerous, girl! she thought as she shook her head hard and tried again to concentrate on the task before her.

“R3, will you shine a light directly down into this area?” she asked the green R-unit beside her.

The little machine let out a beep and maneuvered its mechanical arm up and over the top of the opened canopy of the R4 unit that she was working on.

“Great,” she sighed after digging around for a few seconds.

Her little green companion let out a few concerned beeps in response.

“Well, luckily it’s just a loose bolt,” she informed it. “But it’s a tiny one and in a place that I can’t reach easily without taking the whole damn thing apart.”

She sighed heavily again and sat down between the two droids while she thought. A few minutes later she hopped up and quickly headed for the very back of the workshop where she kept her obscure, rarely used tools and slowly began to scour the area for what she hoped she still had.

“Keep an eye on the front, R3,” she called over her shoulder.

After about fifteen minutes she still hadn’t found what she needed and, between it and her growling stomach, was becoming increasingly frustrated by the second.

“Hello?” someone yelled over the sound of her droid’s protests.

She swallowed the urge to scream back and instead politely replied loudly, “I’ll be up there in a minute!”

“I don’t have a minute,” a cocky response came from closer to the back shelving unit where she was standing.

Unbelievable, she thought as she leaned her head back and slowly exhaled in an attempt to not scream. When she opened her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she saw.

“I knew you were back here,” she whispered to the long handle of the specialty socket wrench extender that sat poking out precariously from the very top shelf behind her. She quickly began to look around for a stepping stool, to no avail, when the voice shouted again, this time even closer to her.

“Seriously, I don’t have all day!” came a threat in an all too familiar voice.

You’ve got to be kidding me, she screamed in her mind.

“You can’t be back here for safety reasons! Please go back to the front and I will be right there,” she shouted with as much venom in her voice as she could muster. She rolled her eyes and began to assess how she was going to retrieve the extender and not kill the ISB Agent with it once she did.

The unit was almost three meters high, which meant she was going to have to climb up the first few of the rickety shelves to reach it. She swallowed hard and put her hands on the ledge that was just above her head and pulled down as hard as she could with most of her body weight. When nothing happened she took it as a good sign and cautiously stepped up onto the first shelf. After a few fearful seconds, she decided it was safe and reached up and repeated the process.

On the third row up she felt that the extender was close enough to reach out for, but when she did her fingertips could only barely graze the cold metal handle.

Seriously? She sighed as she shifted her weight inward and reached out again; however, before her arm completely extended, the shelf that she was holding onto suddenly broke and flipped toward her causing her center of gravity to shift backward.

It felt like slow motion when she felt herself begin to fall and she braced hard for the impact that her back and head were going to make with the hard floor, except she didn’t. At the last possible second, she felt something hook around her upper back and under her knees before quickly spinning her away and shielding her from the falling debris that she had pulled down with her. She didn’t see what happened, but she immediately knew by another one of her senses. Trees.

“It looks like you do need a protector,” he said quietly into her ear before she finally found her bearings and fumbled her way out of his arms.

She quickly straightened her posture and smoothed out the fabric of her one-piece work jumper before clearing her throat, “thank you,” she squeaked out in a voice that was easily two octaves higher than her own.

What the hell is your problem, she scolded herself.

The man just stood in front of her with his head tilted slightly to his right.

“If you don’t mind going back to the front, I will be with you in a moment,” she said as she gently pushed past him and looked up at the tool that sat exactly where it had before she tried to initiate a shelving tsunami.

“You’re welcome,” he answered unenthusiastically as he stepped toward the cabinetry causing her to instinctively turn to face him and back peddle up against the shelves. He stood close enough to her that she had to lift her chin up to see his face as he slowly, and without looking away from her, reached above his head and grabbed the extender from where it sat.

“Looks like you owe me one,” he said in a low voice as he slowly looked her up and down before he finally handed her the tool and sauntered away cockily.

Stop, stop, stop. You are a grown-ass woman, act like it, she told herself as she pulled herself back together and rounded the corner that would take her back to the front of the work area.

The Agent was waiting for her when she finally got to the front desk.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a droid,” she informed him as she pulled her datapad out from a drawer. “What’s the req number?”

“I don’t have one. I need help with this,” he replied as he placed his own datapad on the counter.

She looked down at it and tried her hardest to collect herself before she looked back up. “That’s not a droid.”

“I know, but it won’t turn on and IT-“

“Take it back up to them and hit the first person you see with it. Tell them I sent you.”

He just turned his head slightly at her sudden burst of hostility.

“I do droids, not computers,” she almost growled before a series of equally hostile beeps came up from behind her. “Easy, R3,” she said in an easier tone as she patted the droid’s head. “They send me the stuff they can’t fix so I get blamed instead,” she huffed as she pulled a stool behind her.

“I’ll take it back then,” Kallus offered as he reached to take it back.

“Wait,” she hesitated for a brief second. “You’re already here. What happened to it?” she asked as she plugged the machine into a cord that ran under the counter.

“It just stopped working. There is very important intelligence on there and I need access to it immediately,” he said with what she was beginning to notice was a perpetual air of superiority that carried in his voice.

“Is it charged?” she joked as she plugged in another cord.

“I think I’m smart enough to know if-“ he stopped when he realized that she was kidding. He stood silently as she connected the device to her own before flipping it over and removing the back casing.

“Did you throw it or something?”

He just looked at her perplexed.

“I’m serious this time. There’s some really odd damage here,” she said in awe as she poked at the malformed components with a small screwdriver. “It looks like a tiny person got in here and just started pulling things apart,” she continued without looking up.

He watched the almost wonder-like expressions on her face as she prodded further into the device before she picked it up and held it closer to the light. “We went too close to a cluster of collapsed stars.”

“That’s brave,” she mumbled before she set the tablet down and looked at him seriously. “I’m guessing you didn’t go in because it started pulling your ship apart?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it did the same thing to everything; the ship, its equipment, even you. I can’t fix this, but I can try to salvage the right parts of it and get your data off of it,” she offered with a small shrug. “Hopefully.”

“Fine, how long will it take?” he huffed loudly.

“I can start on it when I finish this one,” she offered as she pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the headless R4. The look on his face said that it wasn’t good enough but she could tell his brain interjected before his mouth opened.

“Fine, let me know as soon as it is completed. It’s very important,” he conceded before turning and walking out.

Roan just looked down and winked at the little green droid that never left her side. “It’s very important,” she mocked in a horrendous attempt at the man’s accent before she went back to work.

It was well into the evening before she managed to retrieve the files saved to the Agent’s datapad. The machine itself was a complete loss but she had managed to get it somewhat working long enough to transfer everything to an external hard drive.

“Okay, R3, take this to his office,” she instructed the droid as she handed over the device.

The robot let out a long series of fast beeps.

“Well, I don’t want to either and you’re already holding it,” she laughed as she sat heavily on a stool. It had been a really long day and she really just wanted to take a long, hot shower and try to sleep.

R3 rocked back and forth angrily before aggressively pushing his way through the swinging door that she had installed below the front counter especially for it.

“I love you!”

All she heard back were its agitated boops of dismay slowly grow quieter as the droid rolled further away from her down the corridor.

“Sorry, buddy. I’ve had my fill for the day,” she said softly to herself as she hopped up and began to put away the array of small tools and components that were scattered all over her work area. As she reached down to lift a box onto the countertop her gaze fell to a small black cord laying on the ground.

That droid is going in the compactor, she sighed as she walked over and picked up the connection cord to the hard drive that the unit was taking to Kallus. The cord that he would have to have.

Maybe I can catch up before R3 gets there, she thought as she quickly scooped it up, pushed through the door, and began to jog down the hallway.

She didn’t get very far before she heard her droid beeping frantically over the sound of maniacal laughter and the sudden sound of something hard hitting metal. When she rounded a corner to her left she saw R3 surrounded by the Ensigns from the cafeteria kicking at the scared machine as it tried desperately to avoid their assaults.

Roan didn’t even hesitate when she ran up behind the boy closest to her and smashed her heel down hard into the outside of his right knee. He howled as he fell to the floor causing the other two to turn and face her, which gave R3 the chance to escape.

“You really are a stupid bitch,” the ringleader snapped as he lunged toward her.

She readied her stance to take him in a frontal assault, but suddenly a sharp pain in her ankle caused her to fall back right into the arms of the third assailant slightly in front of her to her right side. The Ensign on the floor had composed himself enough to return a kick to her foot and suddenly she found herself pinned against the wall with her left arm pulled up high between her shoulder blades. The boy staggered his feet and leaned against her with all of his body weight making it hard for her to breathe and impossible to move. She felt his fingers slowly slide into her hair at the base of her skull before he suddenly closed his fist and pulled her head back hard.

“The shit I’m going to do to you, little bitch,” the leader growled into her ear as he walked over and grabbed her chin yanking her head to face him. “Where’s your boyfriend now, huh?”

Roan whispered something inaudible.

“What was that?” the boy asked laughing as he put his ear closer to her mouth.

“I don’t need him,” she whispered again before she leaned back and slammed her forehead into the cartilage of his ear as hard as she could. Pain engulfed her entire body as the sharpness of what she immediately assumed was a small concussion was contrasted with the burning from her scalp by the handful of hair that the other boy was holding and probably ripped out when she moved forward as hard and fast as she did.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” he screamed as he fell to the ground and she leaned back against the wall to keep her dizziness at bay as best she could. Purple stars filled her field of vision and quiet, obscure beeps began to creep into her auditory senses.

The ensign holding her against the wall pulled her head back again forcing her to look up at the ceiling. “That was stupid,” he whispered slimily into her ear as she felt him grind himself into her back. “But, I like when they fight back.”

She felt a wave of abject disgust wash over her before she leaned into his face, “you better-.”

Before she could finish she heard a blaster ready and a Stormtrooper bark out an order to stand down. The Ensign slowly let go and backed away with his hands up as another trooper placed cuffs on the two others still lying on the floor.

The beeps grew louder as the ringing in her ears began to subside and she turned and slid down the wall to sit on the floor with her nervous droid that had gone to get help.

“Are you alright?” a quiet voice asked from above her. Kallus knelt down a few feet in front of her and looked genuinely concerned.

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing some ice and a light analgesic won’t fix,” she replied as her attackers were led away, the one that had held her against the wall made a small kiss at her before he was pushed down the hall.

R3 growled and Kallus had to physically stop the droid from chasing after him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he said darkly to the small robot before it finally wheeled back over to its place beside Roan. He looked at her for a long few seconds before he finally stood, “I’m sorry that you got hurt.” He turned to walk away and quietly added, “it won’t happen again.”

#agent kallus #hot kallus #star wars #star wars rebels #kallus fanfiction #we need more kallus #alexsandr kallus

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azvolrien · 4 years

Text

Clearing the Air

One night a week after Asta’s return to the broch, she and Roan have a little chat about their respective pasts. Mostly Asta’s.

TW for discussion of slavery, I guess, but nothing terribly graphic.

~~~

Asta smiled to herself in the gloom of the bedroom and cuddled closer to Roan under the blankets. The fire in the hearth below had died down, but the room was still warm with its residual heat and that of the chimney, while a small golden witchlight hovering above them cast just enough light to see by. It wavered slightly in the air; when Roan fell asleep it would vanish altogether, but she wasn’t quite there yet. She lay on her back, watching the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, and without speaking she brought one arm up to encircle Asta and hug her in against her side. A faint frown creased the skin between her eyebrows.

Asta brushed her fingers over her cheek, tracing the shape of the water horse tattooed there. “What are you thinking about?” she said, only just above a whisper. Even that felt loud through the silence.

Roan’s chest rose beneath Asta’s arm as she took a deep breath. Idly, she lifted her other hand to caress Asta’s hair, teasing her fingers through the ink-black strands. “Two years since you left for Stormhaven. One week since you came back. Suppose…” She shook her head. “Suppose maybe I’m just not used to sharing my sleeping space again yet.”

Asta turned onto her front and propped her chin on one hand, trailing the other down over Roan’s jaw and throat to investigate the more abstract symbols inked into the skin there, before her fingers finally settled on the designs on her chest: strange notched rectangles below each collarbone and just above her breasts, the one on the right crossed by a zigzag line like an arrow broken in two places, and a disc between them over the top of her breastbone. The linen tunic Roan wore at night was a little looser than her day clothes, and the collar was low enough to show the tattoos that were normally hidden. “That’s not what you were going to say,” said Asta, taking a moment to observe the difference in their skin tones – hers the warm golden-brown of her Hawk Steppes grandmother, Roan’s dotted with tiny freckles but otherwise so pale it was almost white. “Is it?”

Roan took another deep breath and looked up to meet Asta’s eyes. “No. No, it isn’t. You see… You’re the closest I’ve ever had to a long-term relationship. I did go out with a few other girls, at school and at university, but…” She paused, working her jaw from side to side. “They called it off when they found out I was a berserker. Every one of them. Understandable, I suppose. Most people don’t want to get too close.”

“And you’re worried I’ll do the same?” said Asta, circling the disc on Roan’s chest with the tip of one finger.

“I wouldn’t say ‘worried’ is the right word,” said Roan. “Gods, you’ve seen me go berserk – none of the others had. If it scared you that much you wouldn’t have come back here. But… in the dark, at the back of my mind… Aye. I suppose there’s some wee bit that’s feart you’ll decide you made a mistake and go back to Stormhaven. Back to civilisation.”

“I know what you’re capable of,” said Asta. “I’ve seen you fight, yes – but you’ve always been gentle with me. I’m not afraid of you.”

“You’ve had enough rough treatment to last you a lifetime,” said Roan. She brushed one hand over the scars on Asta’s back, raised enough that they were clear to the touch even through her nightdress, in case there was any doubt as to what she meant. “If this is your home now, then…”

Asta leant down to kiss her and lightly touched her forehead to Roan’s, then settled back down beside her, resting her head on Roan’s shoulder. “Civilisation’s overrated anyway.”

Roan smiled. “So you’re not secretly terrified nature meant me to be some brutal killer?”

Asta propped herself on one elbow again and studied Roan’s face intently for a few seconds. “Gryphons are obligate carnivores. I’m going somewhere with this,” she added when Roan raised an eyebrow at the apparent non sequitur. “They can eat plant matter, as seasoning or to bulk out a meal a bit, but they have to eat meat; a gryphon that tried to cut it out of their diet altogether would end up starving themself.

“The head housemistress for the apprentices boarding at the College of Sorcery back in Stormhaven is a gryphon. Matron Inkfoot. All the students adore her – for many of them she’s the closest they have to a parent for most of the year. I was speaking to her one day, and I made a comment that the gryphons weren’t what I’d expected – how some of them were in careers like the military or the police, careers where they were more likely to see combat, but far more worked as messengers, shopkeepers, teachers, bankers, cleaners; almost any line of work where you’d expect a human, there were some gryphons who’d chosen it. Things I wouldn’t have thought would be in the nature of a huge carnivore. Inkfoot sort of cocked her head thoughtfully and said ‘Look at me. Nature built me as a hunter, meant me to fly out after prey, drop from the sky and rip it apart with my beak and talons. Instead I work here, caring for all the generations of children who’ve passed through the College.’”

Asta paused to brush a loose hair out of Roan’s face. “The point she was trying to make is that… Only animals have to do what nature intended for them. A person,” she tapped the end of Roan’s nose with one finger, “has a choice. And I think, whatever nature intended for you, you made yours a long time ago – long before you ever came to live out here.”

Roan smiled and pulled her back down in another hug, wrapping both arms tightly around her. “You’re quite wise, you ken.” Asta wriggled free and lay beside her, her head back on Roan’s shoulder. “My turn, then,” said Roan, brushing her fingers through Asta’s hair again. “What’s on your mind? I see you just… staring sometimes.”

“Me? Nothing.”

“As-ta…”

Asta sighed. “Well, you were always perceptive. It’s memories that keep me awake at night, not worries about the future.”

“Daro?”

“He is where most of the nightmares come from,” said Asta. Roan held her a little tighter and nuzzled her hair. “But when I can’t sleep, it’s not just because of him. It’s… getting the news about my parents’ accident. Standing on the auction block at the slave market. Coming into Lady MacArra’s office that morning and finding her on the floor. Things like that.”

“You’ve been through a lot. It’s no wonder it still needs some time to fade.”

“It’s been years, though.”

“Aye. And then, sometimes, it’s yesterday.”

Asta stared unseeingly into space for a few moments before she nodded. “Exactly.” Another pause. “Can I… Never mind.”

“Hm?”

“Can I… can I tell you about the market?”

“You can tell me anything,” said Roan. “Except,” she added more firmly, “that any of it was your fault.”

Asta breathed a laugh and shifted her weight, laying her arm over Roan’s midriff. “There are a lot of slave markets in the Imperial City,” she began. “More than any other city in the Empire. Most of them are in the Great Market down by the shipyards at the river – you can buy anything there, and I really do mean practically anything – but there are others scattered throughout the city. Lots of different companies and auction houses, dealing with different types of people – different types on both ends of the transaction, the buyers and the bought – but all members of the Slavers’ League. People sometimes think the League is one big organisation, but really it’s a coalition of many different smaller ones.

“I did a bit of research beforehand, looking at who the different groups were dealing in – I mean, I knew there wasn’t much point going to a company specialising in arena fighters. So I found an auction house that seemed promising, walked into their reception, and explained things. They were… not unsympathetic, in a detached sort of way. I’d already sold almost everything I had left, and had to sign everything else over to the slavers. Everything, right down to my clothes. The only thing I could keep was Pardus, and only because they couldn’t sell it; they still took it, but to pass on to whoever ended up buying me. They interviewed me, finding out things like my education, family background, skills and so on, and took me through to another room for a physical inspection by a healer. They gave me a shift to wear and took the rest of my clothes away. I assume they laundered them and passed them on to be sold, because I never saw them again. After that they just collared me and locked me in a cell at the back to wait for the auction. There were lots of them. Cells, I mean. Not a full prison’s worth, but enough for maybe thirty, forty people.

“I remember… The walls between the cells were thin. Wood, not stone like the outside walls, though too sturdy to break through without tools. Not much furniture, though more than I’d expected – a bunk with a proper mattress and a blanket, not just straw on the floor, and a toilet in one corner instead of just a bucket. It was late Nivalis by then, just shy of the New Year, so it was freezing outside, but the window had glass in it behind the bars so it wasn’t that cold inside the cell itself. I lay down on the bunk and wrapped the blanket around myself.

“I started crying. Partly it was relief that whatever else happened, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting letters and, and visits from creditors any more, but mostly it was… other things. Grief – it was all still so recent, and I’d been so busy making all the arrangements that I hadn’t… hadn’t really had time to process things. Fear. Well, that one’s self-explanatory. Guilt. What right did I have to be scared, when I’d volunteered for slavery and some people get dragged off the back roads into it?” Without interrupting, Roan kissed her forehead and stroked her hair again.

Asta fell silent, staring into space for a while. Roan just held her without prompting her to continue, and eventually she spoke again.

“Somebody knocked on the wall behind me. There was a man in the next cell, quite a lot older than me by the sound of his voice. I never saw his face or learned his name, but… He spoke to me.

“‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I know you can hear me through there. Focus on my voice, and breathe slowly and deeply. You’ll get through this.’ I did as he said and sat up, still with the blanket around me. I was still shaking, only a bit from the cold, but I could stop crying. ‘This your first time on the wrong side of the auction block?’ I nodded, before I remembered he couldn’t see me, and said it was. ‘Not mine. This will be my… sixth. I’m a teacher, you see; rich families buy me as a tutor for their children, then sell me on when the children outgrow the schoolroom.’ He paused. ‘This auction house isn’t too bad, as they go. They don’t sample the goods and they give you a private cell instead of shoving you in a holding pen.

“‘The auction is tomorrow. They’ll assign you a lot number in the morning, then come and get you from the cell when it’s time for you to go up. When you’re on the block, stand up straight, shoulders back, chin up – this house doesn’t strip you for the block, but people still like to see what they’re buying. Keep your eyes on the far wall. Don’t make eye contact with any of the buyers – you never know how they’ll react.

“‘Once you’re paid for, well, slaves are beneath notice for most of them; keep your head down and do your work and by and large you’ll probably be ignored. Not much recognition for your work, but they likely won’t be doling out beatings every day either. If you’re unlucky… Learn how to read your owner. Whatever they do will be over more quickly if you give them the reaction they’re looking for.’ I just swallowed, and I heard him sigh. ‘As slaves, the only protection we have under the law is what our owners give us. We all have to learn to look after ourselves – whatever that involves.’

“We talked for a bit longer, just sharing stories, until it got fully dark outside and we were too tired to keep talking. Somehow, I managed to go to sleep. I never heard from him again – he must have been an earlier lot, and was taken away before my number came up. I do wonder what happened to him sometimes. I hope he made it out somehow, but failing that, I just hope someone kind bought him.”

“As far as you can use that word for a slave-owner,” muttered Roan.

“Mm,” said Asta, and paused for another few seconds. Again, Roan just waited for her to continue. “They came to get me mid-morning. A couple of guards took me through to the auction hall with my wrists tied, but they undid the cuffs before they shoved me up on the block. They weren’t unduly rough, just… brisk.” Roan frowned and her arm tightened slightly around Asta, but she remained silent. “Most of the auction’s a bit of a blur – like the man in the next cell told me, I tried to just stare at the far wall and ignore the buyers, but I can still remember exactly what the auctioneer said. ‘Lot Thirty-Four: Kiraani female; twenty-one-year-old nulligravida, five feet and five inches in height and physically sound. Educated to university level; fully literate and numerate. We’ll start the bidding at five hundred zolots.’”

“‘Nulli-’”

“It means I’ve never been pregnant,” said Asta. She gave a rather small, hollow laugh. “Well, there was quite a bidding war. There were a lot of bidders at first, but Lady MacArra soon stepped in and kept driving the price up and up until it was down to just her and one other, then just her, and the long and the short of it was I ended up selling for quite a lot more than five hundred zolots. The auctioneer looked a bit stunned from it all – she clearly hadn’t expected that much interest. The guards took me down from the block and handed me over as Lady MacArra signed to finalise the purchase, then she just gave me her coat – to wear, not to carry – and swept out of the auction house.

“It wasn’t just her and me – she had her… her bodyguard-assistant with her, this very big, very quiet man called Angus – but he never said a word I could hear the whole time. We all went over to this restaurant not too far from the auction house.

“She got us a table and waved for me and Angus to sit down. Handed me a menu and said to order whatever I wanted. ‘You look as if you haven’t had a decent meal in a good few days,’ she said, and sat down across the table from me. Daro must have got his eyes from her – they were this very bright, piercing blue, but they weren’t… they weren’t cold on her like they were on him. The waiter came to take our orders, and once he’d gone she kept talking. ‘My family believes I never buy slaves,’ she said. ‘In truth I buy them quite frequently – I buy them, and then I release them immediately, no questions asked.’ She must have seen the panic on my face, because she went on to say, ‘If your freedom is what you want then it is yours,’ and looked at me very carefully.

“And… Well. If I was some heroine in a novel I’m sure I would’ve taken it, but when the alternative was sleeping in an alley in Nivalis with nothing but a linen shift between me and… anything… Some vague ideal of ‘freedom’ didn’t seem too high a price to pay. Don’t judge me,” she added, half pleading and half defensive.

Roan just stroked her hair again.

“So instead Lady MacArra nodded and said ‘Then I will make you a different offer. It seems I am in need of a secretary. Come back to Duncraig with me. I shall provide you with a stipend for your personal use, to save or to spend as you see fit, on top of full room and board. Five years, or until my death; whichever comes soonest. That should give you time to get back on your feet.’ And… I just started crying, but she realised immediately that it was from relief and just nodded again. ‘We have a long journey back to Duncraig ahead of us. We shall need to find you some proper clothes.’

“And… That’s kind of where the story stops being interesting. We went to a shop and got me enough clothes to get me back to Duncraig, stayed one more night in the Imperial City – she’d booked rooms in a hotel, enough for all three of us – then got in a coach and started on the road back to the Sea Lochs. It took a while, but nothing much happened on the way.”

“Five years,” mused Roan. “You said you lived with her for five years, back then.”

“Just short of it, really,” said Asta. “As I said – she bought me in late Nivalis of 2732, and she died in mid-Gracilis of 2737.” She gave another hollow little laugh and cast her eyes down. “If she’d lived for just one more month, I would have been free and Daro would never have been able to do anything about it.” She sighed. “But then I would never have met you. A lot of things have happened that I could have done without,” almost unconsciously, she reached back over her shoulder to touch the scars, “but that isn’t one of them.”

“Good to know.” Roan rolled onto her side so they lay face-to-face and ran one hand slowly over Asta’s back again, gently exploring the scars with her fingertips. “Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” she asked.

“A tattoo? Well… My grandmother on my father’s side had some, but she was from the Hawk Steppes; they were tribal markings. They’re not really a Kiraani tradition. They’ve become rather fashionable as Prince Zarannon became more prominent – his mother is Yaigan, one of the Steppe tribes, though not the one Grandma was from – and even more so now he’s the Emperor, but a lot of the older generation still look down on them. Why do you ask?”

“When I was getting the seal on my back done, I wasn’t the only customer in the tattoo shop,” said Roan. “One of the other tattooists was working with a man who’d been caught in a house fire; one arm and half of his face was covered in scarring, and maybe more I couldn’t see. But once the burns had healed, he’d decided to get them covered in tattoos – not to disguise them, but to turn them into a work of art. My tattooist explained that they get quite a few people like that – people who’d been attacked, had accidents, or just otherwise had something big happen to their bodies against their will. She said it was a way of taking back control, of going ‘this is mine, and I won’t let what happened change that.’”

“I wasn’t raped,” said Asta quietly. “I’ve told you that.”

“I know, and I’m glad you did, because I don’t know if I could bear to ask if you hadn’t. But there’s more than one kind of violation. Maybe it would help you… I don’t know. Just forget I said anything.”

Asta drew in a long, deep breath and slowly let it back out. “Well,” she said, stroking one finger down Roan’s nose from the bridge to the tip, “I wouldn’t want to copy your style.”

Roan gave a small smile, and her chest quivered slightly with a silent laugh. “I take it that’s a ‘no’.”

“More of a ‘perhaps, I’ll give it some thought’,” said Asta. She reached up and tugged one of her ears. “But then, maybe I’ll just get another earring instead. This might surprise you, considering everything else, but I don’t know if I have the pain threshold to sit still long enough for a tattoo.” She paused. “So, your tattoos…”

“Don’t have any tragic stories behind them,” Roan assured her. Her smile broadened into a grin. “Though some of them were pretty sore to have done.”

“What was the worst?”

“It’s probably a toss-up between this one,” Roan touched the crescent on her forehead, “and this one.” The disc above her heart. “Close to the bone, you know. Where there’s more flesh to cushion the needle it just feels a bit like this.” She found Asta’s shoulder under the blankets and scraped a fingernail across her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake.

“I suppose you are practically a living pain chart for tattoos,” said Asta with a grin.

“You’re not joking as much as you think you are.” Roan turned her face aside for a moment, yawning so widely her jaw clicked, and laid one arm over Asta to hug her close enough to breathe in the scent of her hair. Asta curled up against her, wriggled comfortably, and closed her eyes.

“Any plans for tomorrow?” she asked without opening them.

“We could take a walk up the coast, if you’re up for it. I’d like to show you the cave where I gather the chert for my arrowheads – it’s a couple of miles away, but the walk’s mostly on the flat.”

“Mm, that does sound interesting.” Asta pulled the blankets more snugly around herself and hooked one leg around the back of Roan’s knee. “We can see what the weather’s like in the morning.”

Roan chuckled softly and brushed one more kiss against Asta’s forehead. “Sleep well, love.”

Asta didn’t answer. The last of the tension had left her body, and her breathing was deep and steady. Roan closed her own eyes, let the witchlight vanish, and followed her into sleep.

~~~

Roan is quite pale despite her generally outdoorsy lifestyle; partly because she lives in Fantasy Scotland, and partly because she’s one of those people who just gets frecklier and frecklier without ever really tanning.

#az writes stories

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peculiarphantomphoenix · 2 years

Text

290

Rex was completely at a loss for words. However, Cale was not done talking just yet.

“Furthermore, we will be on friendly terms with the Mogoru as we will be creating this free city together. That is why we will work hard to control the issues that the new Mogoru has with other kingdoms.”

Rex wondered if he was hearing correctly that the current rising star of the Western continent was willing to be the sturdy shield for the Mogoru that was the setting sun.

“We will also provide the funds for the Empire’s Alchemists’ Bell Tower and for alchemy itself to stand back up.”

“Ha!”

Rex was shocked. He subconsciously said exactly what was on his mind.

“What is left for the Roan Kingdom? Aren’t you just giving and giving without receiving anything back?”

Cale heard Raon’s voice in his mind at that moment.

– That’s not true! You’re wrong little Cat Knight! The human and crown prince will not just be giving! I saw the two of them laughing!

Cale naturally ignored Raon’s voice.

“Why do we get nothing back?” “Well, to build a city and bring in both magic and alchemy, both of which are expensive to maintain, would cost a lot of money. Would there be anything left?”

Cale leisurely shook his head and answered back.

“It’s fine. We have a lot of money.”

Rex didn’t even have the capacity to be shocked anymore.

However, the Roan Kingdom really did have a lot of money. They received money for helping the Caro Kingdom. They were also going to receive a lot of money from the defeated three northern kingdoms. In addition, the Roan Kingdom was going to trade food to the Norland Kingdom up north. They had more money than ever and also had a lot of money that should be coming in.

“…I can’t understand at all. Why would the Roan Kingdom make such an offer?”

The Empire would need to give up some land. This would be very painful to do. However, the things that they would get back in return were worth quite a bit.

They would also not need to fight a bloody war nor have to sign a humiliating agreement. It was a deal where you gave something to get something back. That was why Sir Rex could not understand the Roan Kingdom and Cale.

However, Cale recalled the conversation he had with the crown prince at the Gorge of Death. It was one of the conversations they had inside Alberu’s tent.

‘I wish for a larger Roan Kingdom.’

Cale started to speak. He could not tell someone else the complete truth.

“First, we will gain strength.”

He recalled what Rosalyn had said right after the battle at Maple Castle.

‘Young master Cale, my former teacher told me this. The Empire is a place where everything is above average.’

This was something that Cale, crown prince Alberu, and the Roan Kingdom all knew about. Alberu’s voice was going off in Cale’s mind.

‘Cale Henituse, I want to make alchemy ours.’

The first thing that they would earn was alchemy.

“Second, we will gain people.”

There should be a large number of people flocking to the free city, its new Magic Tower, and its new Alchemists’ Bell Tower.

Although Cale didn’t tell Rex about this, the Roan Kingdom was planning on creating a bank as one of the foundational services in the free city. They would provide funds for anybody in the Western continent who wanted to learn but did not have the means to do so. They could later choose to remain in the free city, return home, or come to the Roan Kingdom.

Although they had the freedom to choose what they wanted to do, they would not forget about the Roan Kingdom. The mages and alchemists who would learn and grow in the free city for twenty years would remember the Roan Kingdom. They would be the only kingdom that offered them a home and financial support.

“Third is control.” “Ah.”

Sir Rex quickly understood this part.

‘The Roan Kingdom would control the Magic Tower and the Alchemists’ Bell Tower for twenty years.’

The original Magic Tower in the Whipper Kingdom and the Mogoru Empire’s Alchemists’ Bell Tower. Both of these places had done a lot of evil deeds. The Roan Kingdom would try to control these two towers by using their past as justification, even if they were not the mayor of the city.

This third reason was the biggest reason that Cale was moving forward with this free city.

There was a low chance of Rosalyn’s Magic Tower or the new Alchemists’ Bell Tower committing evil deeds. However, both of them would be organizations with technology and power. Nobody knew what they would be like in twenty years. They needed someone to keep them in check to maintain the peace.

Sir Rex started to think about the two powers that would take shelter within the free city. He knew a Roan Kingdom’s person would take charge of the new Magic Tower while it seemed reasonable that the alcoholic Alchemist Rei Stecker would lead the Alchemists’ Bell Tower.

‘In the end, Mr. Rei Stecker is one of young master Cale’s, no, one of the Roan Kingdom’s people.’

Rex’s pupils started to shake

“…The Roan Kingdom’s influence will be strong even after removing your hands from the city twenty years later.”

Cale started to smile. He then calmly started to explain.

“Conquering territory is not the only way to expand your territory.”

The Roan Kingdom’s territory would become a bit larger for twenty years. There were three things the Roan Kingdom wanted during that time.

Strength, people, and control.

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bellassan · 7 years

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1, 6, 9

@flightlegacy | detailed writer prompts | (accepting)

1. what sociocultural factors of your own life do you think influenced your choice of character and how you play them?

that’s a really interesting question to me because while I am aware of some similarities between myself and ferus I’ve never really put it into a specific sociocultural context before!

I come from a working class family and due to various factors have experienced a period of significant poverty and … low key homelessness, and I’ve also moved around a lot in my life, usually against my will. I think that experience has definitely shaped my understanding of ferus’ transitional period between leaving the jedi and finally finding a home, and what that home means to him, and how much he idealizes it. I also base his general distinterest in material possessions besides a few key items on this because that’s true for me as well, but also his wonder yet paralyzation when it comes to choice. I get that, honestly, because suddenly being in control of your life when you haven’t been before, that’s kinda scary.

this also left me with a loud political interest - I’m very concerned with social fairness and justice, and I’m always the friend who hassles the people around me into getting politically aware. I do think I draw on that a lot when I write about his resistance and everything leading up to it, and his reasons for leading the fight the way he does, and his anger towards the people in power and a system that doesn’t work (and the last one that didn’t work well enough).

lastly, I am mentally ill, and I absolutely draw on that, very consciously, when I write about ferus’ faulty coping mechanisms, his subsequent crashes, his … everything, really. the guy’s not okay, and I want and need to portray that accurately, and so I pull a lot on my own experiences in order to do that.

I don’t think I chose ferus because of these things at all, but the more I find these touch stones between him and me and stepping stones for shared experience and understanding, the more I lean on them to try to make my portrayal come alive and seem real.

6. let’s say someone else was going to write your character - what are the main points of their personality that you would tell the other writer to focus on? what about outside of that? images/symbols/moments in their life/etc.

the key thing for me to remember - and that I want other people to remember - about ferus is that he’s incredibly emotionally driven. while he supresses this as a padawan and he is very capable of calm and patience, his main motivation once he leaves the jedi is always emotional and ideological. he wants to overthrow the empire because he believes palpatine is wrong and because he detests the genocide. he wants to save what jedi are left because he still feels ‘one with them’. he wants to help because it’s the right thing to do. and he wants to kill vader because he’s pissed.

relatedly, his responses are emotional, and he’s very open with these emotions. he laughs, he yells, he rolls his eyes, he teases - he’s a very expressive character and sometimes his feelings can change quickly. my advice about him is to let him be emotional and act his feelings out. he’s not overemotional by any means but he’s not afraid to express himself and to act on his feelings, which makes him a very spontaneous character to write.

I also always push that he’s a very angry character and that it’s important not to lose sight of that. he carries an anger inside him that isn’t readily apparent but it’s always there. he will snap, threaten, taunt, and push, and he’ll often switch to anger if he feels frightened or upset, because that’s easier. don’t be afraid of his anger. he’s still a good person, and that’s interesting and good to me. he’s an angry good person. let him be angry.

but also let him have fun, because he’s absolutely a damn brat.

as for symbols and recurring themes, there’s two things I find myself relating back to most. one is his guilt complex - he fixates a lot on what he does wrong, and this comes back in my writing a lot in that he’ll often think about darra, or roan, or other people he feels responsible for losing. they haunt him a lot, and so they’re very present, and often recurring in the canon texts as well.

the other is the concept of home, which is hugely important to him - what is a home, what isn’t a home, how home has changed, whether home is a person, is there any way to go back home, his inability to make a new home … it goes on, but this is constantly on his mind. where he belongs, who he is, and what home means to him.

oh actually make that three, because his heart: whether he has one or not and all the feelings he projects onto his heart, what he can carry in it, what he’s lost from it, the fact that both roan and him are killed by lightsaber through the heart … and relatedly, whether what he’s doing at any given time is right or wrong, and how he feels about it. this is recurring in the books and it always struck a chord with me, so I find myself invoking that all the time.

9. when you see a partner’s response to a thread, what are common misconceptions/assumptions you see other characters making about yours? is that purposeful?

answered here!

#flightlegacy #*meme response #haha this sure is a ramble sorry but yes #I love my boy okay

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ofnailbatsandaxefives · 8 years

Text

The Four Horsemen of The 100

okay, so the third episode of season 4 is titled “The Four Horsemen” and as we all know this season is going to be about trying to stop a second apocalypse from happening, or at least saving as many people from it as they can. While we often attribute the Horsemen to being something negative, there’s also an aspect to some of them, at least when it comes to The 100, that can also be positive. I’ll be looking at both the negative and positive aspects of these below. Also note that I am not a Biblical expert, but I did the best I could with what I could find.

The White Rider/Horse (aka CONQUEST/VICTORY/PESTILENCE)

“ Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, “Come.” I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer. “ Revelations 6:1-2

In the Bible the White Rider is said to possibly be Christ, but also the spreading of the gospel, including the foretelling of the Apocalypse. We don’t know if Clarke is going to tell anyone (besides maybe a few choice people) about the nuclear meltdown in the first two episodes, but in this instance I think that she could possibly represent the White Rider. The color white represents righteousness and the definition of righteousness is “the quality of being morally right and justifiable” perhaps this plays into Clarke thinking that whatever she plans to do is justifiable,“For my people” anyone?...even if others might not see it that way (aka Monty) Of course it’s possible that the White Rider is supposed to be Roan, since it also represents conquering and victory, and from the trailer part of Roan’s story line this season seems to be trying to gain power over all the clans and becoming the leader of all the Grounders. The White Rider also carries a bow and arrow, and who have we seen skilled in the archery department? ROAN!!!! Maybe it’s a combination of Clarke and Roan...maybe it’s neither of them.

The other interpretation is the one I think more people are familiar with, PESTILENCE. This is disease and plague. This is definitely the more obvious one when it comes to this coming season of the show. We know that a result of the nuclear meltdown is going to be people getting sick, suffering from things such as cancerous lesions, and having to be quarantined. In contrast to the interpretation of the bow and arrow representing the spread of the gospel, in Vicente Ibanez’ “Four Horseman of the Apocalypse” the bow and arrow was used to spread disease throughout the land.

There is also the theory that the White Rider represents the anti-christ, a false prophet. Who might possibly be a false prophet? From the synopsis of the Four Horsemen episode we can gather that Jaha will be pretty heavily involved, and Jaha has already been portrayed as a prophet like figure in the past. The anti-christ/white rider in this instance, is said to be someone that leads people astray and conquer in the name of ‘peace’ and ‘religion.’ This sounds a bit like Jaha and the City of Light last season...then again conquering in the name of religion could also refer to the new grounder woman who seems to be part of the religion/belief based around the flame.

Possible Human Representations of The White Rider: Clarke, Roan, Jaha, new Grounder Woman whose name I don’t know yet.

Possible Theme Representations: Being/Feeling Justified in One’s Decisions, Conquest of Land/People, Disease

The Red Rider/Horse (aka WAR)

When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature saying, “Come.” And another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it was granted to take peace from the earth, and that men would slay one another; and a great sword was given to him. Revelations 6:3-4

The color red represents things such as fire, blood, and of course war. While the white rider is depicted carrying a bow and arrow, the red rider carries a sword. A sword is definitely a more commonly seen weapon in battle than any other. Who do we see using swords in the trailer? Octavia and someone that looks like they might be Echo.

If we want say that Octavia is the representative of this Rider/Horse then it could possibly represent the internal struggle and war that Octavia might find herself dealing with this coming season.

If Echo is to be the representative then it could be another/new fight between the grounders and the sky people. From the new promo we know Echo is going on about how ‘this’ most likely meaning what happened with ALIE was the doing of the Sky People...and in the trailer she seems to be the Emperor Palpatine in Roan’s ear

There’s also the belief that it could represent a civil war, so perhaps it could be about a division among people who are okay with Clarke’s decision to destroy the City of Light, and those that don’t think she should have made that decision for all of them...especially if they find out about the whole end of the earth thing.

Possible Human Representations of the Red Rider: Octavia, Echo, People who were in the City of Light

Possible Theme Representations of the Red Rider: Internal Struggle/War within Oneself, War between clans, Civil War

The Black Rider/Horse (aka Famine)

When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, “Come.” I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand. And I heard something like a voice in the center of the four living creatures saying, “A quart of wheat for a denarius, and three quarts of barley for a denarius; but do not damage the oil and the wine.” - Revelations 6:5-6

As the meltdown of the nuclear plants continues the amount of survivable land gets smaller and smaller. This means that the land where it’s possible to plant gets smaller too, not to mention destroying the water sources (aka no more fish to eat) and eating animals that eat of the land could become dangerous too. The amount of food someone would be able to get would be very scarce, especially if trying to ration it out between everyone. This is why this rider/horseman is often depicted with scales. The scripture also talks about oil and wine not being damaged. This could represent a division between the upper class and lower class. While we have seen people from both classes of the Ark trying to work together since coming to earth, there still could be that sense of division between those from Alpha Station and those from the other stations. There could also be the division among the grounders of those in charge vs the subjects. Maybe it isn’t a class division, but rather starts to become a division between those who haven’t been effected by radiation yet, and those who already have. Do the people who are more likely to survive more worthy of getting food than those who are likely to die?

Taking the whole ‘wine’ thing into account. It could mean that Jasper is a possible representation of the Black Rider. Resources most likely will start to become scarce, and we know that Jasper just wants his people to have a good time and ‘live’, so it’s possible that he starts to use some of the resources they need to make some of Monty’s moonshine. (Corn can be used to make moonshine, and we know from season 3 they had corn to plant...also I’m kind of laughing at Monty’s quote about never having corn before cause he probably always used it to make the moonshine instead of eating it.) From the trailer it also seems that the black rain might occur during one of the parties outside that Jasper is at.

In Edward Bishop Elliot’s interpretation of this rider/horse the scales don’t represent a balancing and weighing of food, but rather of justice. Who in the trailer do we hear talking about justice? Kane. The justice associated with this rider in dealing with a possible Roman Empire aspect of things, comes after the ‘aggravation’ of previous evil/leadership. Now, I’m not saying this means that Pike (the former chancellor/leader of Arkadia) or Lexa were evil, but under their leadership there was lots of bloodshed on both sides. We don’t know who the knew Chancellor will be, though my bet is on Kane or a Kane and Abby co-chancellorship. The color black can represent protection, and who do we see protecting someone in the trailer? Once again the answer is Marcus Kane

Famine could also be a representation of the taxation suffered by the people during the Roman Empire, and the lack of understanding and care for the welfare of the people. Emperor’s often associated with this are Caracalla and Maxim, both of whom were said to be tyrants. A tyrant is considered to be an autocrat (someone with absolute power) and what type of leader on The 100 have we seen with absolute power? The Commander (keep in mind I’m talking about all Commanders and not just Lexa)

Possible Human Representations of the Black Rider: Jasper, Kane, A new Commander

Possible Theme Representations of the Black Rider: Food shortage/Scarcity, Balance of Destruction/War and Justice, Suffering Under Absolute Power

The Pale Rider/Horse (aka Death)

When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, “Come.” I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth. - Revelations 6: 7-8

Unlike the other riders, the Pale Rider does not carry anything, but rather is followed by Hades (the place of the dead, or in Greek mythology the god of the underworld) Either way the way one meets Hades (be it a place or a god) is to first meet death. Sometimes, the Pale Rider is shown with a scythe like the grim reaper (a physical personification of death)

If we look at the last line of these verses “Authority was given to them over the fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with and famine and with pestilence...” It could be taken that all of the Riders/Horsemen are meant to rule, but it could also mean that only the Pale Rider/Death is meant to. War, Famine, and Pestilence are all tools and situations that lead to Death.

If we look at it in relation to the Roman Empire it could represent its final downfall and destruction. So, it’s possible that while Death in terms of The 100 refers to literal death of people, it could also be referring to the death of the old ways, and finding a new way to live and work with one another. Who are the people who have been witness to different kinds of leadership, and seeing the way they work and don’t work? Who are the two people who are rising up as leaders and could be the ones to bring about a new way of life? Bellamy and Clarke. They’re also the two I think that are most closely related to death. Clarke being considered Wanheda, the two of them, with Monty’s help, taking down the mountain. ALIE!Raven’s comment to Clarke about how death follows her. Octavia telling Bellamy that people die because of him. We even have speculation in season 4 that Clarke (and maybe Bellamy too) are going to have to make some decisions about who lives and who dies. This is something, that from the trailer, Bellamy doesn’t seem to want to have to do. He’s done sacrificing innocent lives.

Possible Human Representations of the Pale Rider: Bellamy, Clarke, Various Grounders and Arkers that Die

Possible Theme Representations of the Pale Rider: Literal/Physical Death, Death of the Old World/Society/Ways

**This hasn’t been edited so apologies for any spelling/grammatical errors, or if I repeat myself anywhere**

tagging: @forgivenessishardforus @ginalou16 @abazethe100 @adamantinesky @rosymamacita @falafel14 @insufficient-earth-skills

#the 100 #season 4 #the four horsemen #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #roan #jasper jordan #jaha #octavia blake #echo #marcus kane #just some late night meta ramblings #i don't even know if any of this makes sense #i am not an expert on the apocalypse

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azvolrien · 5 years

Text

Water Horses - Chapter Two

In which some plans are laid and we find out why Asta’s back was sore.

~~~

The pain in Asta’s back had dulled from a knife-blade to a steady ache when she woke, but an equally steady quiver in her gut and her hands had arrived to join it. She sat up, rubbing her face – another sharp pain lanced across her back with the movement – before she twisted around to perch on the edge of the bed, lowered her feet to the floor, took a deep breath, and lurched upright. The room spun; she pressed both hands against the wall, taking deep, shaking breaths until it stilled.

For a moment she looked over her shoulder, frowning at the unfamiliar room. None of the chambers in Lady MacArra’s house had been round with drystone walls and a chimney in the centre like the hub of a wheel. Then the previous day came back to her with a vengeance and she almost had to sit down again. But it was true – she, a mere scribe untrained in any kind of survival or combat skills, had stolen her construct from her new owner’s desk and fled the MacArra estate outside Duncraig, riding full-pelt throughout the day all the way down Loch Gorm to the ‘haunted’ broch of Dun Ardech. A small, breathy laugh escaped her.

The smell of cooking and the sound of Roan whistling to herself drifted up from downstairs. Asta took another deep breath and, leaning heavily on the wall, followed them down to the main room.

Roan looked up from the frying pan she had balanced on a stand over the fire and grinned. “Well, look who’s up – good afternoon, sleepy-head!” She tapped her wooden spoon on the edge of the pan. “I’ve got eggs here just now, and I’ll be starting on some fish in a minute. Both, one or neither? There’s some bread as well if you’d rather that.”

Asta opened her mouth to answer and collapsed to all fours at the foot of the stairs.

“Whoa, hey!” Roan set the frying pan down on the hearthstone and crossed the room at a run to help her back to her feet. “Easy there, I’ve got you – just give me your arm and – oh, gods.”

“Hah?” Asta twisted her head to the side, trying to look down at her back. All she could make out was a blurry stripe of red on her shoulder, striking against the white linen of her tunic, but the implications struck her all too clearly. “Ha-oh. Oh.” Her stomach lurched; she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Hey, look at me!” Roan gripped her upper arms in both hands and ducked her head to look in her eyes. “Deep breaths. Now…” She took her own advice. “…I think you should let me have a look at your back for you.”

Asta swallowed her reluctance and nodded. “Yes. I-I think that might be a good idea.”

Roan helped her to the nearest chair and, once satisfied her guest wasn’t about to keel over again, left her to get ready while she went to rummage in one of the cupboards over by the kitchen. Asta awkwardly pulled her bloodstained tunic off over her head and knelt on the chair, folding her arms over the back just as Roan returned with a metal box painted with a symbol Asta vaguely recognised as belonging to the devotees of a local medicine god.

“I won’t sugar-coat it for you,” said Roan as she took a pair of scissors from the box. “There’s no ‘probably’ about it – this is going to hurt. But you will feel better afterwards, I swear.” She began to cut away the bandages Asta had haphazardly wound around her chest. Asta clenched her jaw as the scabs tore away with the cloth and warmth began to trickle down her back again.

Roan’s breath hissed through her teeth. “What excuse,” she said in a low, dangerous voice, “did they give you for this?”

Asta sighed and closed her eyes, as much against the memory as the sight. “Daro – the man you spoke to – called it ‘pre-emptive discipline’. He wanted… to be sure I knew my place now that his grandmother wasn’t around to protect me.”

Roan muttered a curse, tipped something from a small glass bottle onto a clean cloth, and began to clean away the blood – and other fluids – oozing from the ugly whip-furrows on Asta’s back, criss-cross over her skin from her waist to her shoulders. As promised, it hurt; Asta choked off a scream. Roan silently handed her a scrap of leather to bite down on and kept cleaning.

“Stormhaven wound tincture,” she said once she had finished and tied a fresh, much neater dressing over the scars. “Hurts like hell, right enough, but it’ll have burnt out whatever sickness was taking hold in those and they’ll heal much quicker now. Sit tight for a minute – I have a clean tunic you can borrow, and then we can eat.”

She brought another woollen tunic – a little too big for Asta, as Roan was a few inches taller – down from upstairs and they ate in silence, side-by-side on one of the couches.

“They weren’t planning to sell you, then,” said Roan, putting her plate down once she had finished. “Slaves with that many whip marks don’t sell for as much. Buyers are less willing to go for someone they think will be a troublemaker.”

“No, I don’t think they were,” said Asta quietly. Also as promised, her back already felt a lot better; the fire in it had died down to a mere warmth. “I heard somebody say that they didn’t have slavery in the Sea Lochs before they were annexed into the Empire.”

“Oh, they did,” Roan assured her. “It’s been practised for centuries – not much room for moral superiority there. But it didn’t become the sort of industry it is now until then, no – there just wasn’t the population to support it. Well-off families would have a few household thralls, but it wasn’t such a pillar of trade. But today, a certain Lady MacArra the Younger and her children are neck-deep in it.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

Roan closed one hand around her other wrist and stretched both arms above her head. “I have a degree in finance from the University of Duncraig. Economic History was a required course in my first year.” She glanced to the side, caught Asta’s stare, and grinned. “I wasn’t always a hermit.”

“So you – what? You got tired of accounting and ran off to become a semi-feral sea witch?”

“Aye, that’s about it.”

“Maybe I should have done that…” Asta sighed and finished her eggs and fish. “So… speaking of history… Imperial law does have a few things to say about harbouring runaway slaves.”

“Funny thing about Imperial law,” said Roan, gesturing with her fork. “It’s not as rigid as the lawmakers would want you to think, especially out here on the fringes. Generally, so long as you pay your taxes and aren’t actively plotting to assassinate anyone, the Empire is happy enough to leave you alone. Think you can manage the stairs?”

Asta shifted her weight experimentally. Her back only twinged. “I think so.”

“Then follow me up to the roof. There’s something I want to show you.”

She waited until Asta had joined her on the high walkway before she pointed out to sea. “Do you see the island out there?”

Asta shaded her eyes with one hand. “Yes, I think so. How far away is that?”

“About ten miles, give or take.” Roan placed both hands on top of the stone rampart. “Technically, it’s within Imperial waters and subject to Imperial law. In practice, it doesn’t cause trouble so it gets quietly ignored. There’s a market that meets out there every few days; I take my sloop out to trade for a few necessities – bread, medicines and so on – and I’m not the only person who sails there. I’ve also seen ships from Stormhaven docking there. And by their laws, there are no slaves in Stormhaven. Step over their border,” she clicked her fingers, “and you’re a free woman. Might be worth seeing if any of those ships will give you passage south.”

“Can they be trusted, though? If they’re smugglers?”

“Not all of them,” admitted Roan, “but there are a few I’d vouch for. Besides, Stormhaveners tend to have… strong opinions about slavery. They might even give you passage for free if you explained the situation.”

Asta nodded slowly. “I suppose it can’t hurt to ask,” she said, equally slowly. “When’s the next market?”

“Day after tomorrow,” said Roan. “We can take the sloop over first thing and see what’s what.” She smiled. “So I’d better give you a proper tour of the place before that, eh?”

Although only Roan still called it home, Dun Ardech had been a village once, not just a broch, and a little of that still showed in its bones. Asta had not noticed the previous night, but a few outbuildings sat in the courtyard around the broch itself, still enclosed safely within the outer walls. A chicken coop sat against one wall, while a few tough little hens pecked through a small but healthy-looking vegetable garden. Roan pointed out one small drystone booth as the outhouse – “And it’s bloody freezing at this time of year!” – and another, bigger shed as the workshop where she prepared the various animal bones and skins she made use of, from her sealskin cloak and the reindeer fur that lay across her bed to the smaller pelts of foxes and rabbits she took out to sell at the island market. Outside the wall, a little way inland and sheltered in the lee of a rocky outcrop, there was even a reasonable equivalent to a bathhouse: another hut – drystone, inevitably – concealing a spring of comfortably warm water bubbling up from beneath the earth.

“It’s not deep enough to get a proper soak,” Roan said as they walked back to the broch. “That’s one of the few things I do miss about Duncraig – that big bath complex near the University.”

“I know it,” said Asta, nodding. It was one of few that allowed unaccompanied slaves to use it.

“But it works for a warm scrub if you have a sponge or a cloth. All the deeper water around here is either salty, unbearably cold, or both.” Roan shaded her eyes, peering into the sun as it sank over the ocean. “They’ll be hauling out soon,” she muttered.

“Who will?”

“Come up to the top of the wall. You can get a better view of why we stay away from the water after dark.”

A short flight of stairs brought them up to the top of the outer wall, with a clear view of the wide rock pavement between the broch and the sea. Roan sat down cross-legged, watching the sea. Asta gingerly copied her.

“You might have noticed,” said Roan, “that the gate through the wall doesn’t actually have a gate in it. It’s just a kind of narrow, angular corridor inside the wall.”

“I did notice, yes.”

“That’s because it’s not supposed to keep people out.” She pointed down at the surf washing against the pavement. “It’s a defence against them.”

Long, sleek forms heaved themselves from the water onto the rocks, their smooth hides – solid black, mottled grey, even a few reddish-brown ones – rippling with both blubber and muscle. They were more graceful on land than seals, but only a little, with long webbed toes ill-suited to walking and heavy whale-like tails that dragged behind them. One took exception to another that wandered too close; both reared up onto their stronger hind legs, hissing at each other and baring pointed teeth that suited a crocodile better than a mammal. And yet, Asta could see how they had come to be called water horses: apart from those terrible jaws, their long heads and arched necks were a similar shape, and each one bore a narrow strip of longer hair running down its back from between its ears.

“They come closer if the tide is further in at the right time,” murmured Roan. “Easy enough to avoid if you know they’re out there, but you do have to time your fishing trips carefully. The mares tolerate each other if there’s enough food, but the stallions will square up to fight even outside the mating season. You see the biggest one, there in the middle?” The water horse she pointed at was half the size again of the next-largest, and its scarred pelt was a pale grey with black markings like leopard spots along its back.

Asta nodded. “It’s hard to miss.”

“I’ve seen him a lot over the last few years, usually with his herd around him. He seems to be the dominant stallion of this territory, however eich-uisge map their waters out. And I think – couldn’t swear to it, but I think – it was him who responded to my horn call last night.” She wrinkled her nose in a sort of affectionate grimace. “I call him Riabhach.”

“R – sorry, ��Reevack’?”

“Riabhach. Sort of not quite touch the back of your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the ‘ch’ sound.”

“Reevacckkh – sorry, I can’t quite get it.”

Roan very carefully patted her shoulder. “You tried.”

“They’d attack, then?” asked Asta “If we were to walk down to them.”

“Absolutely. Like I said, they’re very territorial. But the gate’s too narrow for them – they’re not flexible enough to get around the corners. They stay out at sea while it’s light.”

Asta nodded, trying to suppress her shivers as the sky dimmed. Roan heaved a sigh and stood up. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back in and get the fire going.”

The next day dawned to a hard frost and a dusting of snow on the hills looming above the headland. Roan changed the dressing on Asta’s back again and spent the rest of the day in quiet industry, heading out to check if the traps she set both in the water and on land had caught anything before returning to sort her catches – several fish and a grouse – and the rest of her goods bound for the island market. Asta made herself useful helping to pack everything into neat crates and bales, ready to load into makeshift panniers rigged across Pardus’s back and onto the boat when they got up early the next morning.

The boat itself lived in a small shed, a few minutes’ walk up the coast where the rocks gave way to a narrow stretch of sand. Roan unlocked the doors and threw them wide with a theatrical flourish. “Ta-da!”

Asta, not very familiar with such esoterica as boats, nodded appreciatively as seemed to be expected. Roan squeezed in around the side and shoved the boat out of the shed. It was about twenty feet long from prow to stern and roughly three feet wide, but despite its size it slid easily enough over the sand to the water.

“Right!” said Roan, clapping her hands. “Let’s get the cargo aboard and we can be underway.”

The boat did not really have a deck, just a couple of planks laid across the hull, but it still had a small ‘hold’ – more of a chest – near the mast into which all the goods – pelts, bones, and whatever foodstuffs Roan felt she could spare for trade – packed easily enough. Asta sealed the lid over the hold, dismissed Pardus back into its summoning stone, and at Roan’s insistent gesture stood back to let her step the mast and unfurl the sails by herself.

“Did you build it yourself?” asked Asta.

“Not from scratch, no,” said Roan, securing the mast in place. “But I did have to find it a new mast, and the figurehead’s my own touch as well.”

Asta hadn’t noticed the figurehead. It did indeed fit in with what she had observed about Roan’s style: it was the skull of a water horse fixed to the prow, gazing fiercely ahead, while the white bone had been painted with flowing blue patterns like Roan’s tattoos. “You do seem to like… decorative animal skulls.”

“What gave it away?” asked Roan, grinning as she fastened her sealskin cloak and settled the skull atop her head. “You can probably guess her name. Hop in – I’ll give us a shove.”

Within minutes, the sails had caught the wind and the little sloop was skimming over the waves towards the island in the distance. Asta hunkered down and tried to stay out of the way of the boom.

“This market we’re going to…” she said. Roan adjusted her grip on a rope and nodded to show she was listening. “How… how rough a sort of place is it?”

“Well, it’s not exactly Siraki Square,” said Roan, “but it’s not the Black Vennel either. Stick close and you’ll be fine.”

“Have you ever had trouble there?”

“Once, near the beginning,” said Roan brightly. “Lad from up in Kaldrfjord tried to con me out of some good pelts, then gathered a bunch of his pals with big sticks to support his argument. Set me right off, and I never had any bother again.”

“What do you mean, they set you off?”

“Hmm…” Roan wrinkled her nose again, this time in thought. “D’you know what a berserker is?”

Asta nodded warily. She had once seen one fighting in the Grand Arena, back in Kiraan before all her family’s trouble had started. The man – a blond-haired giant from distant Myrkfjord – had hacked his way with sword and axe through six opponents in a row, howling like a wild beast and completely heedless of the wounds he accumulated, before the arena marshals had finally managed to subdue him.

“There are a lot of different theories about where it comes from,” continued Roan. “The traditional one is that it’s a blessing from Torravon, the Sea Loch goddess of war. Some people think that it’s inherited, or that there’s something in the water around here. The only thing I’m sure of is that I am one.” She caught the worry in Asta’s eyes and shot her a reassuring smile. “But a bit different to whatever flailing blood-soaked carnage-maker you’re picturing,” she added. “I don’t go into a battle-frenzy so much as a battle-focus. It’s… hard to describe. Hopefully you’ll never see it.”

“…Is that another reason you live out here?”

“It’s not at the top of the list, but it is on there. I hasten to add that I didn’t kill the Kaldrfjord crowd. Just sent them running scared.”

“You’re an interesting skill-set, Roan. Accountancy, sailing, first aid, combat…”

Roan shifted the tiller, adjusting their course slightly. “You’ve got your history, and I’ve got mine. Besides – my lifestyle leaves me with a fair amount of time for practising new skills.” She grinned again. “I do enjoy sailing, though.”

It was a fine day for it, bright and crisp with a good wind, but even so the voyage out to the island took a couple of hours. Each-Uisge pulled up next to a wooden jetty at the south end of the island, and it wasn’t the first to do so. Many other small rowing and sailing boats had moored nearby, while a few bigger ships rode at anchor just offshore. A well-trodden path led inland from the jetty and towards the distant rumble of voices.

Roan climbed out to tie the mooring ropes. “We might be in luck,” she said, nodding towards the ships. “You see the one furthest to the left, with the two masts? I know that ship – that’s Curlew. It’s a Stormhaven trader, and its captain is an upstanding sort. For a smuggler, at least.”

Asta began unpacking the hold and passing the cargo up to Roan. “You really think they’ll just give me passage, no questions asked?”

Roan just shrugged. “There’s only one way to know.”

~~~

Like if you also want to run away to become a semi-feral sea witch.

Asta doesn’t pronounce ‘Dun Ardech’ properly either. Try as she might, she just can’t get the ‘ch’ sound and it comes out as ‘Ardeck’.

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azvolrien · 4 years

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A Long Walk in Winter - Part Three

Our heroes have some fun to lighten the mood after that conversation. Then things get less fun, and an unexpected face appears.

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Roan laid her hand over Asta’s on the grip of the bow. “You want to hold it securely, but without squeezing it,” she instructed, showing Asta where to place her fingers. “Too tight a grip can throw off your aim. This way, the weight of the bow should rest about here,” she touched the webbing near the base of Asta’s thumb with her other hand, “when you draw back the string. All right, next nock your arrow. No, on the other side of the bow. That’s it. There are different ways of drawing, but the one I use is to have one finger above the arrow on the bowstring and two below it, like this.” She positioned Asta’s other hand on the string. “Now, draw back to your anchor point. Different archers will have different points they like to use – it’s something you only really find with practice – but for now let’s say that’s below your cheekbone, just here.” She helped Asta draw back the string and tapped a thumbnail against her cheek, either oblivious to or politely ignoring her blush. “Use the muscles of your back more than your arms, and keep your bow arm straight but don’t lock your elbow. Aim… and loose.”

The arrow sailed gently into the snow about twenty feet short of the log Roan had placed as a target. Asta looked up at her, met her eyes for a moment, and started laughing helplessly. “I don’t think my arms are long enough!”

“Well.” Roan grinned back at her. “I did say my bow’s a bit big for you.” She gave Asta a quick kiss on the cheek and went to collect the arrow, only to fall to her knees when a snowball burst against the back of her head.

“At least we can be sure there’s nothing wrong with my aim,” said Asta, readying a second snowball as Roan picked herself up.

“Oh, you cheeky- C’mere, you!”

The snowball fight went on until they were both flat on their backs, exhausted both from the epic battle and from laughing about it.

“C’mere, you,” said Roan again, in a very different tone, and dragged Asta into a hug without getting up. “Ah, mo chridhe,” she said, sliding the fingers of one hand beneath Asta’s hat to caress her hair. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

Asta closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Roan’s for a moment, before she drew back and hauled her upright. “We should be on our way before this all melts and we end up soaked,” she said, reaching inside her coat for Pardus’s summoning stone.

“You are as wise as you are beautiful,” said Roan.

“All right, don’t overdo it.”

With the carcasses of the stag, two ptarmigan, a pheasant and a hare all loaded onto Pardus’s back along with the rest of their gear, there was no room left for them to ride. Instead they made their way across the plateau on foot, forging through knee-deep snow as they walked from cairn to cairn back towards Glen Coll.

“This wasn’t poaching, was it?” said Asta suddenly when the first of the trees came into view on the horizon. The sun had already set, but Roan judged they could make it to the glen before the light vanished altogether.

“No, we’re fine,” said Roan. “Ancient law of the Sea Lochs, one the Empire agreed to keep on the books when they took over – I won’t bore you with all the little details but the highlands are considered common ground, belonging to everyone and no one. So long as they do it respectfully, people are free to hunt up here.”

“Huh.” Asta mulled that over for a few seconds. “So where does the land around Dun Ardech fall? Where you set your traps in the streams and the woods? Is it yours legally, or…?”

“Dun Ardech itself is, by right of all the work I put in making it liveable, but the rest is common ground as well. The highlands, and anything that’s more than fifteen miles from a settlement and isn’t used for crops.”

“That seems a sensible way of going about things,” said Asta. “Down in the Kiraani Hills and the Great Plain, I think just about every square foot is parcelled out to one landowner or another.”

“That must get complicated.”

“It does, very – I think I prefer the Sea Loch way.” Asta rolled her shoulders and pulled the fur mantle tighter around her neck. “But let’s save our breath for walking until we’re back under the trees.”

“I was going to stop here for the night,” said Roan when they reached the top of the trail down into Glen Coll, “but it’s not all that late.” She conjured a witchlight and waved it ahead of them to float above the path. “If you’re up for it, we can carry on until we get to where we camped that first night.”

“I think I’d rather get a bit further than this, yes,” said Asta. “At least until we’re somewhere sheltered enough that the tent won’t blow away.”

Roan nodded. “We should make decent time from here, anyway. Downhill all the way home, and we shouldn’t be digging through snowdrifts from here either.”

A little snow dusted the ground in the glen, but still the trees and the lip of the valley had saved it from the worst of it, and they walked single-file down the track in companionable silence. Always Roan’s witchlight floated ahead of them; it was brighter and steadier than a flaming torch would have been, for all that it still made eerie shadows of the surrounding trees. As Roan had predicted, they moved much faster through the glen than they had across the plateau; they passed beneath the fallen tree with the clawed bark and were soon at the spot where a little of the track had tumbled away down the slope.

A twig snapped uphill. Roan stopped walking and held out a hand to halt Asta in her tracks.

“Another deer, probably?” said Asta.

“Mmm…” Roan slowly turned to look up the hill, where the trees were silhouetted in black against the evening sky’s dark blue, and lifted the witchlight higher, feeding it more power to brighten its glow.

A pair of eyes reflected the light. Something huge, shaggy and black leapt from the hillside above, but if it was meant as an attack, the creature misjudged its aim and landed heavily on the path in front of Roan in a confusion of shadows and with a bellow of pain. The hard-packed, frosty earth quaked under the sudden weight – quaked, and gave way altogether. Whatever it was, the creature was gone in seconds, its own roars drowned out by those of the landslide it had triggered. Roan whirled to face Asta and shoved her back with all her strength, so hard that Asta almost fell to the ground altogether. Asta caught one glimpse of her horrified face before she was gone as well, the witchlight vanishing with her.

Quiet, again, and Asta was left staring blankly at the little she could make out in the dark – a fresh wound in the earth ahead of her, severing the track completely and tearing a deep scar down the steep hillside towards the distant sound of the river. While Pardus stood at her back, completely unperturbed, Asta sank to her knees on the edge of the path. Where before it had snaked away beyond the glow of the witchlight, now it just ended inches from her knees. The landslide would have taken her as well, if not for-

“Roan! Roan!” The scream ripped from her throat with no conscious thought at all. “ROAN!” There was no reply. “No. Please, gods, no…”

There. Down the hill – how far down, she couldn’t quite tell. A light, another of Roan’s little golden witchlights, and a raised hand outlined against it. Asta made a sign of thanks to Siraki, the protector of travellers long before she was the goddess of trade, and reached up to grab one of Pardus’s horns to help herself back to her feet. “Stay – stay where you are!” she shouted. “I’m coming down! Somehow…”

With Pardus following loyally behind her, Asta edged, scrambled, wriggled and slid down through earth, frost, dead bracken and rotten wood until, finally, she reached a rough, shallow bowl where another tree had fallen. Roan sat with her back propped against the broad disc of its roots, one hand clamped over her side and one eye crusted shut with blood. Her other arm hung limply at her side, but she waved its fingers in greeting.

Asta grabbed the first aid kit from Pardus’s saddlebags and fell to her knees at her side. “You’re hurt!”

“Hahh… That’s a yes.” Roan gritted her teeth, hissing, as Asta dampened a cloth with wound tincture and gently cleaned the cut above her eye. “’S not as bad as it looks. Shoulder’s popped out. Ankle went pretty far sideways. But… don’t think ’s broken.” The cut on her forehead had bled profusely as scalp wounds did, but it wasn’t big and whatever had struck her there had not cracked her skull. Even so, her voice was thin and tight with pain.

“Let me look at your side,” said Asta. “You’re bleeding there too. Then I… I’ll see what I can do for the rest. Pardus, lie down here.” Pardus did as it was told and lay on the ground at Asta’s back. The spell-flesh of a construct had a lower temperature than the body of a natural animal, but Pardus’s elegant, catlike frame still provided a little extra warmth and shelter.

Roan undid her belt with one shaking, bloodstained hand and hitched her tunic up to her ribs. A broken branch had torn through just above her hip; thankfully it wasn’t an impaling gut wound, just a deep gouge through skin and muscle, but there were still tiny splinters embedded in her flesh and it started bleeding anew as soon as Roan took the pressure off it.

Asta bit her lip. “You can’t put weight on that dislocated shoulder,” she said. “But I need you to turn as far onto that side as you can bear so I can clean this properly. All right?”

Roan nodded without speaking and shifted her weight to give Asta a better view of the wound. She held still to the point of rigidity, teeth bared in a death’s-head grin and one hand clamped around the wolf carving beneath her tunic, as Asta painstakingly picked the splinters out with a pair of tweezers, cleansed the wound with more of the tincture, and secured a thick pad of gauze over it with a bandage wound around her waist.

Asta glanced up at the witchlight as it wavered almost in time with Roan’s haggard breathing. “Fire. We need a fire.” She stood, kicked a bare patch in the leaf litter, and rummaged in the saddlebags again for tinder and kindling. Roan found the strength to summon a few sparks among the dry grass and crumpled paper, though the few loose logs Asta could find in the surrounding gloom were damp and smoked terribly before they finally caught enough to properly burn.

Roan’s ankle was definitely sprained, and badly; ugly purple-black bruises were already flowering both above the joint and along the side of her foot. “Middle of winter,” she said with grim humour, wiping the blood from her hand and face as Asta re-tied her boot for support before her ankle swelled too much, “and nothing resembling an ice-pack in sight.”

Asta gave her a reproachful look and propped her ankle on top of the first-aid box for her before she dragged the tent and bedroll down from Pardus’s back. There wasn’t enough flat ground to pitch it, but she laid out the tarpaulin to sit on, propped the canvas up in a rough lean-to, and arranged the blankets around Roan in more of a nest than a proper bedroll. “We’ll get you off the hill in the morning,” she said as she sat back down at Roan’s side. “Bring you to a proper healer. I don’t – I don’t know what else to do for your shoulder.” She had tied a sling to immobilise Roan’s arm, but the joint was still misshapen beneath her tunic and the sealskin.

“Do you not?” said Roan, holding her close with her good arm. She was still pale – paler than usual for her – and drawn, but she could speak a little more easily. “Would’ve thought it’d be in one of your books.”

“It is, often,” said Asta. “Authors like it because it’s,” her voice cracked and she swallowed twice to steady it, “it’s very dramatic, but won’t do a character too much lasting harm. It happens to Jarl Eyvind in The Gull Road, and they just pop his shoulder back in and go on their way. But what looks exciting in an adventure story isn’t always actual best practice for first aid. I don’t want to try to help and end up making it worse.”

“Aye. That’s fair.” She gently pressed a kiss against Asta’s temple. “Thanks for looking after me.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t done for me.”

“I’m not keeping score, you know.”

Asta looked down at her hands with a small laugh and tucked half of the woollen cloak over Roan to go with the blankets. “We’ll make room for you on Pardus’s back,” she decided. “I don’t want you walking on that ankle yet. We’ll just – leave the tent here and come back for it later, or something.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Asta nodded and set two of the dried fish they had carried from the broch to heat over the fire before she huddled closer to Roan beneath the cloak, staring into the dark. “What… what was that thing? The thing that attacked? A bear?”

“No… No, it wasn’t a bear. I didn’t get a clear look at it, but its forelegs were much longer, and I could swear it had horns.”

“Horns?”

“Like an aurochs, I’d say – but it wasn’t one of those either. No, it was nothing I’ve seen up here before.”

With that thought in mind, they only achieved a shallow, fitful sleep at best, curled around each other in the nest. Pain kept Roan awake for most of the night, and when Asta woke just before sunrise it was to find Roan watching her with a strange, tender look in her eyes despite the deep shadows below them.

“Wh-why are you looking at me like that?” asked Asta after a few seconds of disoriented blinking.

Roan eased her fingertips beneath Asta’s chin and tilted her face up to kiss her slowly. “Because you’re amazing,” she said, brushing her thumb across Asta’s lips, and smiled. “I’m trying to get better about saying it.”

Asta trailed her fingers across Roan’s cheek, tracing the outline of the water horse tattooed there, and down below her jaw. The pulse there was even and strong despite Roan’s injuries. “And I’ll try to be better at believing you,” she murmured as Roan slid her good arm around her back and breathed in the scent of her hair. They stayed like that for a while longer, huddled close under the tent canvas until the sky had lightened a little more and Asta drew back. “We need to get moving,” she said, and looked up the slope towards the trail. It was less intimidating in daylight, even the shadowy kind before the sun crested the hills, and she could make out enough level spots that neither she nor Pardus would have too much trouble climbing back up. “Right.” Asta stood, moving stiffly after the uncomfortable night, and squared her shoulders. “First we get you on Pardus. Then we’ll see what else we can pack on.”

Despite Asta’s fears, they weren’t forced to leave anything behind; with Roan in the saddle, her spear and bow slung in a rough holder along Pardus’s flank, and the carcasses secured behind her, the tent and the blankets could drape across rather than being rolled up and tied in bundles as they had been on the ride out. Asta stood back to inspect her handiwork and rearranged one of the blankets to better protect Roan’s back from the stag’s antlers. She nodded, satisfied, and took hold of the reins. “You’d better hold on.”

Roan clutched the saddle pommel and tried to grip with her knees as Asta led Pardus in a slow, steep zigzag back up the slope to the path. Several times Asta had to drop to all fours to scramble across where the way forward was slippery or uneven and once she fell flat on her belly in the frosty bracken when a foothold gave way beneath her, but after half an hour of careful climbing they reached the trail with no worse injuries than a few scrapes and bruises.

“I’m not used to keeping my balance up here without you to hold on to,” said Roan as Asta leant against Pardus to catch her breath.

Asta patted her knee and straightened up, tucking a few hairs that had escaped her braid back behind her ears. “Keep it for a few more hours,” she said, still gasping from the climb. “Just a few more hours. Until we’re back safe at the broch. Then… We’ll see. Have a rest. Get you comfy. Can see if… any of my books have proper instructions for helping with that.” She gestured at Roan’s shoulder. “If not… We can… We can ride to Auchtertan in the morning. Get a healer for you. Should get one to look at you anyway. Fix you up properly.” She took the reins again and led Pardus down the trail. Her breathing evened out as she walked, until another hour later when she led Pardus around a kink in the trail, skirting the foot of an outcrop of stone, and stopped dead. Roan had been looking down at her grip on the pommel, but she raised her head when Pardus swayed to a halt.

Something was sitting on the path, blocking their way, but the only name Asta could put to it was ‘creature’. It was, perhaps, more like a bear than it was anything else, with a stocky, powerful build and a coat of shaggy black fur mottled with patches of dark brown, but the resemblance beyond that was not remotely close. From the path to the top of its head was more than seven feet even with its forepaws on the ground, and its muzzle was longer and more pointed than a bear’s, its forehead less rounded. A pair of long, sharp horns curved out and forwards from the sides of its skull.

Even with only a glance to go on, it could only be the creature that had triggered the landslide the previous night. It shifted its weight back onto its haunches, but Roan reacted before it could do anything. She bared her teeth and grabbed for her spear, her eyes growing wide and black and the tendons standing out on her neck.

“Roan! Stop!” Asta snatched the haft of the spear and pulled it out of Roan’s reach. She shook her head, blinking; her pupils shrank to a more normal size and her neck relaxed. “If you go berserk now you could tear yourself apart,” said Asta quietly, squeezing Roan’s hand tightly. “Not caring that you’re hurt isn’t an advantage here.” She glanced at the creature – it had not moved any further – and she lowered the spear to the ground. “I… I don’t think we’re in any danger.”

The creature shook its head. The gesture was careful and slow, not a reflex to scratch an itch or deter a fly. Asta stroked her hand across Roan’s knee and studied the creature more closely. With a better look, it was obvious that the creature was injured, if not as badly as Roan. Its once-pointed ears hung in tatters, and blood glistened in cuts across its muzzle and on its forelegs. While one horn swept to a smooth, even point, the other ended in a jagged stump. It also became clear that its shoulders were curiously broad for a four-legged animal; although thickly furred and far more heavily muscled, their conformation was almost human, and its forepaws weren’t paws at all. As Asta watched, it lifted one foreleg – one arm – and uncurled its hand from a loose fist. It was more than four times the size of Asta’s hand, furred along the back, and each of the five fingers ended in a claw that had been cut deliberately short, but the skin on its palm was smooth and pink and the proportions were completely human – as, she realised with a start, were the light brown eyes staring back at her.

“What is it?” breathed Roan.

“I don’t know,” said Asta, “but I think a better question might be…” She stepped forwards until she was only just out of the creature’s long-armed reach. “…Who are you?”

The creature touched its throat, opening and closing its mouth, and shook its head again.

“Oh. You can’t speak?” Another shake. Asta looked back at Roan, who glanced at her spear on the ground, then shrugged. “But you can understand me. Are… Are you human? On the inside?” This time, the creature gave an unmistakeable nod, before reaching out and scratching a word in the frost on the ground. It wasn’t very neat, and Asta had to squint for a few seconds before she could make out what it said. “…Your name is Keith?” Nod. “So you’re a man?” Another nod. “All right,” said Asta shakily. “We’re getting somewhere. I, um. I need to talk to Roan here for a minute.”

Roan had, slowly, awkwardly, and wincing with pain, climbed down from the saddle to retrieve her spear. “So we’ve got his name,” she said, her voice flat. “He still – ahh!” She dropped to her knees, clutching her shoulder. Asta knelt with her.

“I… I don’t think he meant to hurt you,” she said, lowering her voice. “I think it was an accident. Look at him – he must have got caught in the landslide too.”

“Then why did he set it off?” said Roan, still in that flat tone. Her face was almost pure white beneath her tattoos.

“Maybe… Maybe we scared him. Maybe he was just trying to run off, but the path gave way under him.” Asta shot Keith a quick glance. He cocked his head and sat up, laying one hand on his other shoulder in a questioning manner. “Yes, she’s hurt,” said Asta, loudly enough that he could hear her. “Her shoulder was dislocated in the landslide last night.” Even trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, she couldn’t completely keep the anger from her voice.

Keith dropped back to all fours and crept closer. It didn’t feel like a threat, but Asta moved between him and Roan nonetheless. He sighed, sat up again, and went through a series of little mimes: his arm hanging loose at his side, his other hand pressing back on the shoulder joint, then a clear look of joy as he held his ‘injured’ arm back up.

“You… you know how to put it back in place?” said Asta uncertainly. He nodded. “Roan?”

Roan closed her eyes hard, her breath rasping through her teeth. “What do you think?”

“I think… that I want you to be in less pain. Even if the help is from an unorthodox quarter.”

Roan pressed her lips together and took a long breath through her nose before she opened her eyes again. “Then let’s see what he has in mind.”

What Keith had in mind was for Roan to lie flat on a blanket Asta laid out on the ground and hold her dislocated arm down by her side. From everything she had read, Asta had expected a quick shove and a scream of pain – as did Roan if the tightness around her eyes was any guide – and she gripped Roan’s other hand in preparation, but instead Keith took hold of her arm with a gentleness at odds with his size, bent it at the elbow, and slowly lifted and rotated it until, with only a slight increase in pressure, the head of the bone slipped neatly back into its proper place. Keith let go and sat back again, cradling one of his arms across his chest in a meaningful fashion. Asta took the hint and, once she had propped Roan back up, re-tied the sling to keep her arm still.

Keith let his breath out in a long sigh and turned to walk away.

“Wait!”

He paused and looked back at Asta’s call. She stood, motioning for Roan to stay seated, and untied the pheasant carcass from Pardus’s saddle. “Here,” she said, holding the bird out at arm’s length. Keith’s eyes widened slightly. “You look like you haven’t eaten in a while.”

Keith started to shake his head, but clearly thought better of it and carefully took the pheasant in one hand.

“Thank you,” said Asta. “Maybe you felt obligated, but – you didn’t have to stay and help. So, thank you.”

Keith nodded, passed the pheasant into his jaws, and loped off on all fours up the hill and away from the path. It was not long before he has disappeared completely, lost somewhere among the trees.

As soon as he was out of sight, Asta hooked one arm over Pardus’s back to stop herself collapsing. “Well!” she said, wide-eyed and with something not far removed from hysterical laughter in her voice. “I think we know what scared off the reindeer!”

“That,” said Roan once Asta had helped her back into the saddle, “was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me.”

Asta screwed her eyes shut and rested her forehead against Roan’s hip. With Roan up on Pardus’s back, she couldn’t reach any higher. “Home,” she said decisively once she had composed herself. “When we get there I’ll make you some willow bark tea for the pain, so you get a better night’s sleep. In the morning we can ride to Auchtertan to see the healer there. In between…” She gazed up the hill where Keith had disappeared, and ran both hands back through her hair. “I think I need to write to Stormhaven. He strikes me as something the wizards will want to hear about.” She nodded firmly to herself and began to lead Pardus along the path once again.

Roan smiled that small, soft smile again. “Do you still feel useless?” she asked, her voice gently teasing, but not devoid of sincere concern.

Asta shot a smile back at her. “Now that you mention it… Not at the moment, no.”

They made it back to Dun Ardech that evening, stored their kills in the cold of Roan’s workshop in the courtyard, and let themselves back into the broch. They had laid a fire in the hearth before they left and only needed to light it. Asta prepared the promised tea, sat beside Roan on the couch, and finally allowed the stress of the last day and night to catch up with her. Roan just held her without speaking that time until she was able to relax again, curled up under Roan’s arm.

“Better?” asked Roan gently.

“Yes. I think so. For now.”

“Good. Because until my other arm’s out of this sling, I can’t hug you and drink my tea at the same time.”

Asta half-sighed, half-laughed, and lay down with her head cushioned on Roan’s thigh instead. “All the more reason to get you to the healer, then.”

“We can ask if she knows any who could help you, as well,” suggested Roan.

“That… might be an idea. The only thing is – I don’t know if there’ll be any near enough to visit on any sort of regular basis.” There were a few minutes of calm, thoughtful silence before Asta sat back up and fished her writing case out from under the couch. “I’ll write to Calburn,” she said, flipping the case open. “Either he’ll be interested about… whatever we saw today, or he’ll know the best person to pass the word to. I can post it from town in the morning.”

One-handed, Roan freed Asta’s hair from its braid so it flowed loose down her back and slowly brushed her fingers through it. “There’s my keen scholar.”

Asta paused with the nib of her pen on the paper and briefly gazed at the fire, before she smiled. “Thank you – I try.”

---

Remember those guys?

Despite her deep-seated self-esteem issues, Asta is genuinely pretty good in a crisis; she just tends to go to pieces and cry for a while after the crisis is over, which is really the best time to do it.

#az writes stories

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