Chapter 203: Naive Envy

Book 4, Chapter 44 - Naïve Envy

Ophelia collapsed upon a rock. A noonday sun beat down upon her fair face, turning it bright in color despite the mild breeze flowing from the peaks of the Äld. Her eyelids begged to shut themselves, and her joints creaked in all manner of ways like they hadn't done since many years prior, when her stepmother had forced her into spending a full day washing clothes. Healing was an arduous task. Not one demanding of her joints and muscles —those ached from yesterday's march and battle, but strangely physically draining all the same.

The soldiers had returned fast from their morning march, bringing back Lord Caranel with them in one piece to Ophelia's relief. But many dozens of Virk warriors —and what appeared women and children— had followed. A different tribe she was told. One that sought protection. But Lady Serene's company stole ill-fitting glances at them, ever wary, their hands close to their weapons, and their words scathing due to an apparent language barrier.

A Crag Eater cried out as it soared through the skies, its great shadow passing over Ophelia before it disappeared behind the mountains. The great stone eating birds were a frequent sight during the day. Mountains were their ideal habitat. Ophelia wished to see one up close, but they were timid in human presence.

“Tired, Saintess?”

Ophelia rolled to find the princess sharing her rock. Lady Elizia held out a waterskin. Her hair was braided again, and she bore a bright smile, face glowing in the sunlight from faint traces of sweat. The top collar of her buttoned shirt was undone, and her sleeves were rolled up. Tall and regal she was despite the plain attire, and her well endowed features shown more readily without a tight leather cuirass pressing down on her torso.

Ophelia pinched her inner cheek between her teeth. She took the skin and washed downed her jealousy with a few mouthfuls of the cool water come from the mountain passes above. “Thank you.”

“You look like you could use more sleep.”

Ophelia sat upright and tucked in her knees, uncaring for the length of her skirt caught beneath her boots. The garments were filthy enough as is. “I've healed most fatal wounds. I'm sorry for collapsing in the middle of the fight. I might have saved more lives if I hadn't.”

“Don't be too hard on yourself,” Elizia said. Two men carrying a great log on their shoulders passed them by. Elsewhere, the sound of hammers and saws rang through the woodlands. “You've done more than enough. Take care of yourself now.”

“You look like you could use some rest yourself,” Ophelia offered. She crinkled her nose briefly. Whether that odor came from herself, or from her companion, she wasn't quite sure. Her own robes and skirt still held the blood and vomit stains of the past day, and now and again she felt her undergarments sticking from sweat.

Spots of color appeared on the princess' face. She was beautiful. And strong and courageous. Ophelia saw in Elizia Serene everything that she wanted to be.

“When Lord Caranel said he wanted an outpost here, I didn't think he'd actively encourage building ramparts and guardhouses on the plateaus,” Elizia said. “Though I should've expected as much with him demanding some thousands of our spears.”

Lord Caranel… Ophelia recalled that haggard appearance of his. His face had been drained, and his eyes half closed. He'd come with a slight limp as well.

“Do I really smell that bad?” asked the princess.

Ophelia flushed. “No, er, it could be me also. I'm not sure. I think I should head back to the manor now. Lord Caranel might need my services with sorting through logistics and stuff. And I'll take a bath also.”

“A bath. Lucky you.”

“Uh, you can come too, your highness.”

Elizia frowned. “And find myself further indebted to him? No. Not a chance.”

“He would not hold that against you,” Ophelia said. “If he does, I'll argue on your behalf.”

Elizia's mouth thinned. She stood up and stretched with audible sounds. She looked Lord Rask's way, who was barking out orders to the soldiers of High House Serene.

They obeyed him without question. More with fear, Ophelia found. The kind carried by those who worked beneath a brutal taskmaster. But Rask is nothing like that…

“You're not Lord Caranel's religious guide, are you?”

“Er,” Ophelia grumbled. She turned away. Her eyes were more awake now. She'd been busy running between triage tents, but for the first time, she took full measure of the surrounds. What once was the mouth of the Spinewood populated by a sparse formation of spindly evergreens had now become a slanted clearing where pillars of wood were being placed to form walls, bridges, and small shed like spaces. There were hundreds at work, but this much progress in less than two days' time was astonishing to see.

“You don't have to answer,” Elizia said. “It is clear enough.”

“He didn't want me to Heal him,” Ophelia suddenly blurted. “He came back looking so… hurt, but he didn't let me Heal him. I sat there, watching him cringe as your physics stitched his cuts, but he wouldn't let me… do you know why?”

Elizia tilted her head to the sky. She shielded her eyes from the sun with a hand. “I wish I had insight into his mind.” Her voice grew soft. “He's so much more than I ever could be.” Elizia then sighed and turned around. “Very well. I'll escort you down the mountainside and back to the manor. I could use a hot bath about now as well.”

***

Soldier though she claimed to be, bleeding out the pampered noble girl entirely from her veins was not something Elizia could accomplish. Expecting a hot bath was not something a commander on the field should ever want for, but the fact that it remained at her fingertips and all she had to do was show some humility and ask for it was something Elizia could not ignore.

The issue lay in whom she was to ask of this. She'd sooner ask Jasim Galadin for a stay at his home than ask anything of Aarondel Caranel. Okay, maybe not Galadin, but any stranger would do.

Most of the horses were still bound at the base of the mountain, watched by a few select riders. Elizia selected Valor from among them and mounted, offering her hand to the Saintess to get on as well. Together, they rode down the level field of overgrown sedge, with spots of color appearing here and there where bushes of heather were in bloom. It was not long before they arrived at the walls of Red Vine, riding past them, and around a large field of work where the Virk tribe were being settled some few hundred paces from the town's walls. Their settlement consisted of tents, but Aarondel's young men of arms who'd seen little combat in the past day were now hard at work building a stout fence around the Virk people's new home.

And there, at the edge of the field, monitoring it all like an obsidian statue was Aarondel, standing tall in his ragged black coat, sword belt at his waist, wind pulling at his hair. His palms were upon a cane he now used as a temporary walking aid. Elizia rode to his side and pulled on Valor's reins. He barely spared her an acknowledging glance.

“You're not housing them within the town?” Elizia asked. “I thought you were expanding its walls.”

“They're an unfamiliar people with a new culture,” Aarondel answered. “Your soldiers already curse them and offer spiteful glares. I don't need unnecessary conflict.”

“You speak of my men as if they were children. They saw their brothers and friends die at the hands of the Virk. And suddenly, you for whom they bled, are now defending a faction of them.”

“That's a poor excuse,” Aarondel said without flinching.

A painful truth. House Serene's armies were men of honor. A word from their captain, and they'd bury their grudges along with the dead. Elizia glanced over the work field. The Virk consisted of more women and elderly than any other. Only a handful of large warriors watched, or aided in construction efforts.

“Er, Lord Caranel,” Ophelia began, “I'll be at the manor if you need me. And I'd also like to request a room be made for her highness Elizia, and a bath prepared for her.”

“Fine.”

Elizia frowned. “That's it? You're not going to ask of anything in return?”

Aarondel turned to her then. “For mere hospitality, Princess ? No. I won't ask anything in return. I trust Rask is managing the outpost construction well?”

Something about the way he said 'princess' never failed to prick needles into her skin. Elizia dismounted. “You can lead Valor back to your lord's manor,” she told the Saintess with a smile. The prideful horse flared its nostrils and let out a snort, relenting only after some pats on the head. Elizia then walked to Lord Caranel's side. “Is there anything I can help with here? I'd rather work off my debt here and now than listen to some absurd request of yours later.”

Aarondel waited for Ophelia to dismount and lead the horse away by the reins before speaking. “You think so little of me,” he said with an amused look on his face. He shifted his feet to put more weight on his working leg, resting his elbow against the pommel of his Artifact sword.

“I'd think more if you didn't speak veiled insults at me.”

“You'd think my dislike of you would be evident by now,” Aarondel said, making a point of avoiding her gaze while he was at it. He pointed toward a large man standing on the opposite side of the camp with his arms crossed. “You can ask the foreman over there if he needs help with anything. But really, you don't need to work this off. Flames know you need a bath anyhow.” With that he began turning away and walking toward his own home, leaning heavily on that cane.

Elizia flushed. She balled her fists. “You…” she trailed away, letting an endless torrent of thorny insults torment her own mind. Saying them would only please him more, she knew. She instead marched over to the foreman, seeking for some hard task to do to take her mind off that insufferable, scruffy mug of his. Alas, thought of him refused to leave her, so Elizia channelled her anger into hammering nails and stakes into the ground for the remainder of the afternoon, ignoring her own calls to hunger, and the stinging pains of blisters forming on her delicate palms.

***

Aaron worked through scribbles and numbers of his own making in the dim glow of lamplight on his desk. Behind him, curtains fluttered with cool night wind come through an open window. He itched at his chin. Again a scruff had grown there. Not two days went by before sharp black threads appeared again. He began considering keeping a beard for a change.

Forty-seven Virk warriors to feed with promise of some two hundred more. Four score of elderly and two dozen children below the age of ten… Virk warriors ate the portions of a man and a half, but they'd brought down about a hundred of their own mountain goats. Hardly enough to feed those numbers for a several days at best, but those were to be used in breeding and milking.

Aaron scribbled more numbers before dropping his quill and letting out a long sigh. He ran his hands through his hair and tipped back his chair, seeing the beauty of the stars in the clear night sky from the open window behind him. A yawn escaped him. Better to wait until dawn and let Ophelia play with numbers and equations. The girl was fast asleep after all the Healing she'd been made to do in the past day. Aaron smiled. She'd eaten for two during supper.

“Those really don't look like hard numbers to make sense of,” said Viper's harsh voice.

“Are you calling me stupid, dear friend?”

“More lazy.”

“Lazy?” Aaron began laughing. “Go outside and tell me that's a lazy man's job, you prick.”

Viper turned to the window as the distant howls of a wolf sounded over the plains. “The girl is hurt, you know. She's doubting herself because you didn't let her Heal you.”

“I'm Zz'tai, Viper. Magic does not work on me, unless it's Chronary or the Eternal Flames.” Aaron stood up and faced the open window. “Hardly something I can explain.” He'd offered the Virk a part of the Eternal Flame to be captured in their Flame Lantern. A paltry replacement for a Shrine of Flames. Hopefully it kept the ratmen and other unsavory characters at bay from approaching in the night. Even with him near, Aaron couldn't be too careful. Darkspawn were erratic. Not always did their behaviour follow logical patterns.

“You can explain it to Ophelia,” Viper said. “She was understanding enough to accept me.”

“And put my entire mission into jeopardy, Viper? No. You can hide, but my work has to be done in the open, in face of the powers I seek to devour. I cannot risk my existence being leaked to Odain. Not yet” Aaron looked into his palm. He bid the Amber Flames of Preservation come forth, holding a ball of heatless fire dancing in his hand for a while. Its light was dim as a candle's might be, yet that dimness spread far into the darkness outside, revealing every pebble and blade of grass as a small orange luminite stone might.

Aaron closed his fist and doused the fire. He needed to perform a pilgrimage to all the Shrines, and rekindle their Flames, lest the world be plunged into darkness. He could not rely on his treacherous grandfather to accomplish the task for him. But a pilgrimage around the world could take years without the aid of things like gatestones.

“Jackrin has left,” Viper said.

“Figured as much when I didn’t see his ugly mug around. Gone back to Kovar?”

“I think so. He seemed… hurt almost to be cast away. Called himself a liability.”

Aaron stayed silent.

“I gave him a task. A nudge if you might, to keep his mind off self-depreciating thoughts like that.”

“A task?”

Viper scratched at his chin. “I might have asked him to cause a bit of a scuffle at Heira. For our needs, of course.”

Aaron laughed. “A scuffle, eh? Knowing him, he'll burn the whole city down.”

“Please,” Viper barked. “Even he couldn't accomplish that. One man alone isn't enough to burn a city that great.”

“I suppose not,” Aaron said. Although the deeper the chaos, the easier it would be to control the aftermath… “Suppose Jackrin gets there in the next few days. My presence might be required at the city in about a month's time if things do turn out as I hope.”

“Is that too soon?”

“No. That works just fine. I spend my stores during the summer months, and the harvest to come restocks our storehouses. I'll have Heira in my grip months before winter arrives, and a large civil militia to recruit. No, Viper. That works just fine.” Aaron sat back down at his seat. One glance at his papers brought on slight headaches. Numbers had to be some form of magic. 'Mathematician' was too close a word to 'magician' after all. “By the way, did the princess ever show up at the manor?”

“About an hour ago, when you were napping with your head on the table,” Viper said. “You were drooling too.”

Aaron held up a middle finger. “Was not.”

Viper smirked. “Elizia's been given the third room down the hall, the one next to Ophelia's. Should I…”

Viper disappeared into the Umbra as the light of a flickering candle out in the corridor grew in radiance. Elizia Serene appeared in the open doorway, wearing a clean pair of trousers and a loose fitted shirt with the laces of her collar bound in a knot just beneath the neckline. She dismissed the elderly maid at her side and rapped her knuckles on the door. “Might I come in?”

Aaron didn't answer, turning his head away instead. She entered anyway, placing her candelabra on the small table near a pair of couches at the room's center.

“You really don't go anywhere without that coat of yours do you?” Elizia asked. She came to stand behind him, blocking out the cold breeze of night from his back. She then rubbed her arms. “Is there a reason you didn't let Ophelia Heal you besides being stubborn?”

“I'm not appreciating you any more than I was this afternoon because you smell like lavender now, Princess.”

“You really don't stop with the insults do you?”

Aaron flexed his fingers. He wrestled for control of his own thoughts. Part of him was projecting Tyrella's image on Elizia, and that part was dangerously close to controlling his actions and words. “I don't like you, Lady Serene,” Aaron said, because he needed it said out loud to better believe it. “Which part of that do you find hard to underst—” Aaron bit his tongue as he turned to face her. He averted her eyes in an instant. Ashes! Why did she walk in here with wet hair?

“Bit your tongue at last for all the hurt you've hurled with it?”

Aaron frowned. He turned back to his papers. “What is it you want?”

“You.”

“Pardon?”

“Er, I mean, that came out wrong,” Elizia quickly said. “It's, I want to know more about you. About where you're from, who you've learned from, how you can do what it is you do so effortlessly.”

“Because…?” Aaron asked. Effortlessly? What part of me looks effortless to her?

“Because you're Flaming better at everything than me!” she suddenly cried. “You fight better, you lead better, you make hard decisions faster, you're, you're…”

“It takes a lot of courage to admit your envy of another,” Aaron said, slipping into the personality of someone wiser for a brief moment. “You can only learn with experience.”

“And what experience do you have? We're about the same age. Have you fought wars? Have you led armies? Have you lost your dearest friends? Have you lost a mother to a poison that keeps her eyes shut and consumes her for ten long years while all you can do is watch?”

Aaron sucked in a well of air. Everyone has their own sufferings to deal with after all. “With all due respect, your highness, the last person you should make your emotional pillow is a person who's openly proclaimed his dislike for you. That is my sincere advice. And if you're looking to measure up against me, don't. It's foolish.” There were only two others on Illusterra who could accomplish that, to Aaron's knowledge. Grandfather, and Odain.

“Sincere advice, huh? Is talking down to people all you know how to do?”

“That's not—”

“You'd speak to me as if I were a child. You're asking me not to measure up to you? Why? Because you're just that much better than me? I acknowledge that you're better than me, but you, you, Aarondel Caranel, have no concept of humility at all. You're right. I am foolish. It was foolish of me to come here. Good night.” Elizia stormed away after having said that.

“Lady Serene,” Aaron called after her. To his surprise, she stopped and turned, her wet hair whipping about from her furious speed. She glared at him, firelight reflected in the darks of her eyes. Aaron could have sworn he saw threads of her earthen hair turn silver then. His mouth dried. A touch of fear gave him pause. He knew what daughters of Ny'Danis could wring with their hands alone. She looks just like my Tyrell —

No. I don't know anyone by that name! Get out of my head!

“The Virk leaders will be present here for a brief counsel in the morning,” Aaron managed to say after a deep breath. “You're welcome to attend. You're free to then leave with your company or extend your stay for several days if the wounded among your men need it.”

Elizia ground her teeth behind a closed mouth. She then turned away and left. Those, evidently, were not the words she'd stopped to hear.