A measly war doesn’t stop the sun from shining. The weak light that escapes the overcast sky illuminates an orderly war camp atop pristine snow. No trace of the conflicts that transpired last night remain.
I woke many times throughout the night, my sensitive hearing and light sleeping patterns because of Kierra’s training waking me every time a creature ambushed the camp, but the threats were handled before I could do anything more than lift my head. Kierra also woke, eyes more green than gold in the low-light, but Alana remained dead to the world, her biggest reaction tightening her arms around me every time I moved.
At first light, the northern butchers, men and women with uncomfortable fascinations with their knives, beasts, and blood, are already awake and skinning their new victims. The leftovers from last night and the fresh offerings are given to the cooks and soon, the smell of breakfast begins to rouse the rest of the army. I lie awake in the small stone abode erected by Bell, laying on my back while Alana drools on my chest.
On my other side, Kierra rises silently. My eyes rake over her as she proceeds to stretch. She really gets into it. Probably because she has a captive audience.
“Coo!” Bell scampers into our dwelling. Kierra grabs her before she can reach me, the imp briefly struggling before surrendering to her fate. [Master Lou, the armies have suffered no casualties from the attacks last night.]
I suppose the thousands of deaths in the north weren’t in vain. They know what they’re doing. Too bad very few of those experts are in our own army. How are our valiant soldiers?
[The acolytes all slept due to exhaustion but it was a fitful sleep. I have concerns about some of their ability to keep up.]
Oi, why are we dragging these people along if they are going to be nothing but burdens? Do they think this is a game?
[I believe the duke allows the acolytes to train themselves in the north to garner more attention from the Hall. Suffering the burden of a couple acolytes is a small price to attract the attention of the many masters. Victory is also thinking of the war long-term. If they manage to convert these fools to their cause and one becomes a master, his disciples will also train in Victory. Then his disciples’ disciples will train in Victory. In three or four generations, their armies have increased by hundreds if not thousands.]
Mm. I suppose those are good points. Sacrificing immediate gains for greater gains in the future. Inviting more outsiders is a recent trend started by Alana’s father and he is no fool. How could he know a drastic change of fortune would come in the form of Alana and I meeting? This is him forging a better future for his territory, as any good noble should. Ah, well. I suppose we’ll have to suffer a bit.
[The acolytes will prove much more useful in the defensive line once the armies have separated. There will be fewer enemies and they will be more recognizable threats.]
If they can keep their heads, literally and figuratively. Has there been any trouble?
[Nothing of note. The usual anxiety, anger, and existential crisis. Ah. You may be interested in the thoughts of Robert Quintana. Mr. Talented.]
Him again? Is Arthur not doing his job?
[He is working on establishing a connection. In the meantime, Lady Geneva has instructed me to keep an eye on him when possible. He is uncommonly interested in you and Alana. Before retiring, he stared at your dwelling for several minutes, imagining many interesting things.]
That creepy bastard. Maybe it would be better to make him disappear here after all? No, Lou. Think about the kingdom that will more than likely be saved by the future Harvest Hero many times.
…that didn’t help.
Think about his family, his proud father and loving mother. His mentor. They’d all be incredibly sad if he died, especially such a common death. Think of the king, his future in-law. I refuse to believe the royal family won’t marry him into their ranks with his talent. That could be the next king that ushers humanity into a new golden age.
…still not helping.
Think of, oh, um, ah. Oh! Think of Cosmo. It’d be more amusing to leave him alive, wouldn’t it? It’s a little funny how he keeps running into my path, right? And this ridiculous grudge he holds. Just imagine it. He trains for years, decades even, to overcome me. Then, at the height of his power, he challenges me for whatever reason…only to be slapped away like a fly. The pride of humanity, crushed by a degenerate known to spend her days drowning in drink and women. The shame. The embarrassment. The hilarity.
Okay, that helped.
What exactly is he thinking?
[He harbors strong suspicions that you devoured his mount and injured him, what he considers the moment his life took a turn for the worse.]
Ah. I suppose it couldn’t stay secret with how many people witnessed my transformation. Anything else?
[He believes you to be a danger to the kingdom and all that is good.]
Ridiculous. How can I be a threat to the kingdom when it is lower on my list of priorities than hot meals, hotter baths, and warm beds? How can I be a threat to all that is good if I am supporting Alana, the future saint? I’m even sparing him, though I am starting to doubt his qualifications as a hero. Harvest may be better off with the walking good intention that is Lancecain taking a journey of self-discovery through the south and finding a new purpose.
[He is also concerned for the safety of Alana. His emotions are very confused. His admiration of her, need to prove himself, and distaste for you have morphed into a strange affection. A feeling that is periodically influenced by his repressed lusts.]
Saints, enough. I’m not talking about him anymore. What a terrible way to start the morning.
“Coo~” the imp says regretfully.
“Done with your report? Then I will get the other pet to start on breakfast. Wake the little star. An army cannot move without its commander.”
That’s one way to improve my mood. As Kierra takes Bell with her out the dwelling, I roll over the happily dozing Alana. She mutters in her sleep as I settle over her, the soft sounds cut off by my lips. I keep it chaste, gently teasing and nibbling her lips. When her eyes start to flutter, I kiss the rest of her face. “Morning, sweetie~”
She groans, her arms sleepily going around my neck. “The army?” she asks with bleary eyes. Her dedication is quite admirable. I know how distracting I am to her and the status of the war is still the first thing she asks about.
“Everything’s fine. Kii went to get us food.”
“From Geneva?”
“Hey, now. You know you’re not supposed to say that name where people can hear.”
Her eyes clear a little, her lips turning down in a pout she will never admit to. A slight one, easily mistaken as a frown. “Sorry.”
“No worries. Rolly is always watching.” I kiss the pout away. Her arms tighten around me, her legs circling my waist as I settle between them.
“Work…” she mutters when I let her come up for air.
I hum distractedly. It’s fine. I’ll let her up when breakfast comes.
In a perfect world, at least. This is not a perfect world and we are in the saints forsaken north of all places. It only makes sense that my wonderful morning is interrupted by a sudden scream.
A measly war doesn’t stop the sun from shining. The weak light that escapes the overcast sky illuminates an orderly war camp atop pristine snow. No trace of the conflicts that transpired last night remain.
I woke many times throughout the night, my sensitive hearing and light sleeping patterns because of Kierra’s training waking me every time a creature ambushed the camp, but the threats were handled before I could do anything more than lift my head. Kierra also woke, eyes more green than gold in the low-light, but Alana remained dead to the world, her biggest reaction tightening her arms around me every time I moved.
At first light, the northern butchers, men and women with uncomfortable fascinations with their knives, beasts, and blood, are already awake and skinning their new victims. The leftovers from last night and the fresh offerings are given to the cooks and soon, the smell of breakfast begins to rouse the rest of the army. I lie awake in the small stone abode erected by Bell, laying on my back while Alana drools on my chest.
On my other side, Kierra rises silently. My eyes rake over her as she proceeds to stretch. She really gets into it. Probably because she has a captive audience.
“Coo!” Bell scampers into our dwelling. Kierra grabs her before she can reach me, the imp briefly struggling before surrendering to her fate. [Master Lou, the armies have suffered no casualties from the attacks last night.]
I suppose the thousands of deaths in the north weren’t in vain. They know what they’re doing. Too bad very few of those experts are in our own army. How are our valiant soldiers?
[The acolytes all slept due to exhaustion but it was a fitful sleep. I have concerns about some of their ability to keep up.]
Oi, why are we dragging these people along if they are going to be nothing but burdens? Do they think this is a game?
[I believe the duke allows the acolytes to train themselves in the north to garner more attention from the Hall. Suffering the burden of a couple acolytes is a small price to attract the attention of the many masters. Victory is also thinking of the war long-term. If they manage to convert these fools to their cause and one becomes a master, his disciples will also train in Victory. Then his disciples’ disciples will train in Victory. In three or four generations, their armies have increased by hundreds if not thousands.]
Mm. I suppose those are good points. Sacrificing immediate gains for greater gains in the future. Inviting more outsiders is a recent trend started by Alana’s father and he is no fool. How could he know a drastic change of fortune would come in the form of Alana and I meeting? This is him forging a better future for his territory, as any good noble should. Ah, well. I suppose we’ll have to suffer a bit.
[The acolytes will prove much more useful in the defensive line once the armies have separated. There will be fewer enemies and they will be more recognizable threats.]
If they can keep their heads, literally and figuratively. Has there been any trouble?
[Nothing of note. The usual anxiety, anger, and existential crisis. Ah. You may be interested in the thoughts of Robert Quintana. Mr. Talented.]
Him again? Is Arthur not doing his job?
[He is working on establishing a connection. In the meantime, Lady Geneva has instructed me to keep an eye on him when possible. He is uncommonly interested in you and Alana. Before retiring, he stared at your dwelling for several minutes, imagining many interesting things.]
That creepy bastard. Maybe it would be better to make him disappear here after all? No, Lou. Think about the kingdom that will more than likely be saved by the future Harvest Hero many times.
…that didn’t help.
Think about his family, his proud father and loving mother. His mentor. They’d all be incredibly sad if he died, especially such a common death. Think of the king, his future in-law. I refuse to believe the royal family won’t marry him into their ranks with his talent. That could be the next king that ushers humanity into a new golden age.
…still not helping.
Think of, oh, um, ah. Oh! Think of Cosmo. It’d be more amusing to leave him alive, wouldn’t it? It’s a little funny how he keeps running into my path, right? And this ridiculous grudge he holds. Just imagine it. He trains for years, decades even, to overcome me. Then, at the height of his power, he challenges me for whatever reason…only to be slapped away like a fly. The pride of humanity, crushed by a degenerate known to spend her days drowning in drink and women. The shame. The embarrassment. The hilarity.
Okay, that helped.
What exactly is he thinking?
[He harbors strong suspicions that you devoured his mount and injured him, what he considers the moment his life took a turn for the worse.]
Ah. I suppose it couldn’t stay secret with how many people witnessed my transformation. Anything else?
[He believes you to be a danger to the kingdom and all that is good.]
Ridiculous. How can I be a threat to the kingdom when it is lower on my list of priorities than hot meals, hotter baths, and warm beds? How can I be a threat to all that is good if I am supporting Alana, the future saint? I’m even sparing him, though I am starting to doubt his qualifications as a hero. Harvest may be better off with the walking good intention that is Lancecain taking a journey of self-discovery through the south and finding a new purpose.
[He is also concerned for the safety of Alana. His emotions are very confused. His admiration of her, need to prove himself, and distaste for you have morphed into a strange affection. A feeling that is periodically influenced by his repressed lusts.]
Saints, enough. I’m not talking about him anymore. What a terrible way to start the morning.
“Coo~” the imp says regretfully.
“Done with your report? Then I will get the other pet to start on breakfast. Wake the little star. An army cannot move without its commander.”
That’s one way to improve my mood. As Kierra takes Bell with her out the dwelling, I roll over the happily dozing Alana. She mutters in her sleep as I settle over her, the soft sounds cut off by my lips. I keep it chaste, gently teasing and nibbling her lips. When her eyes start to flutter, I kiss the rest of her face. “Morning, sweetie~”
She groans, her arms sleepily going around my neck. “The army?” she asks with bleary eyes. Her dedication is quite admirable. I know how distracting I am to her and the status of the war is still the first thing she asks about.
“Everything’s fine. Kii went to get us food.”
“From Geneva?”
“Hey, now. You know you’re not supposed to say that name where people can hear.”
Her eyes clear a little, her lips turning down in a pout she will never admit to. A slight one, easily mistaken as a frown. “Sorry.”
“No worries. Rolly is always watching.” I kiss the pout away. Her arms tighten around me, her legs circling my waist as I settle between them.
“Work…” she mutters when I let her come up for air.
I hum distractedly. It’s fine. I’ll let her up when breakfast comes.
In a perfect world, at least. This is not a perfect world and we are in the saints forsaken north of all places. It only makes sense that my wonderful morning is interrupted by a sudden scream.
