“Never drinking again,” Alana mutters as she wakes up with what I imagine is a terrible headache. It’s been years since I’ve suffered a good hangover. The overcast sky barely allows any light into her room and there is no noise besides our own breaths but the slightest of either can be agonizing. From the look on her face, that’s exactly how she feels.
Her disgruntled mood lasts as long as it takes Kierra to sleepily grasp one of her hands. Alana’s scowl fades to a frown. “You know, it’s difficult to stop doing bad things when you two keep waving away the consequences.”
“Most people would think that’s a good thing,” I mumble beside her. I’ve been awake for a while, on account of this body needing far less sleep than most, but years of considering lazy mornings a luxury have made me slow to rise.
“Have to turn in that report.”
“Already did.”
“…you took care of it?” She gasps. “Please tell me you didn’t take me seriously last night and hand over that nonsense we fabricated while very, very drunk?”
“To be clear, you were the only one who was drunk. And no, I didn’t.”
“…how’d it go?”
Do you mean besides him pressuring me to propose to you? And threatening me to evaluate my loyalty to the north? “It went fine.”
“Really? He had nothing to say about any of it?”
“He expressed his doubt, which, you know, understandable. He did also ask me to evaluate Khan.”
“Evaluate him how?”
“He wants Geneva to evaluate his mind. Tell him definitively whether she can heal him or not.”
She sits up straighter. “You told me you didn’t know how long that would take. Or if it would take.”
“I did. I told your father the same thing. He wants to try.” I sigh heavily. “He knows we want to leave. If I can’t make progress or assure him that progress can be made…he wants me to tell him so.”
Alana’s shoulders slump. I don’t have to explain what those words mean to her. “What is he thinking?” she mutters more to herself than me. “If Khan’s death is tied to us leaving…is he using him as a chain to keep us here? Why would, no. That’s a stupid question. A better one would be who wouldn’t? We are far too valuable to have out of his sight.” She flops onto her back and puts a pillow over her head before yelling a stream of muffled curses.
That’s exactly how I feel about the situation. “I agreed, by the way.”
Her pillow harmlessly hits me in the face. “Why?!”
“It was better than the alternative.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “The alternative.” I’m preparing myself to explain that her father tried to threaten me into staying in the north but, to my surprise, she doesn’t ask. Instead, she climbs over me and gets up. I roll over, claiming the still warm gap in the bed as I watch her strip before her dresser. A toned green arm snakes out of the blanket Kierra’s huddled under, wrapping around my waist and pulling me against my wife.
“Aren’t you going to ask what the alternative was?”
“I don’t have to ask,” she tells me as she dresses for the day. “Victory is not known for its proficiency in negotiation. He threatened you, didn’t he? If not you directly, seeing as the March showed exactly how hard it is to kill you, then something connected to you.”
Ah. I think I understand why she doesn’t want to ask what the alternative was. “He didn’t threaten you, Alana.”
She stiffens. Looks like I was right. “He’s willing to kill his son. The son that lived in his house and ate at his table every night. I can’t expect him to care more about the stray he picked up only a few years ago.”
“I can’t tell you what he’s thinking but he did not threaten you. Not even vaguely. His ‘negotiations’ only involved me.”
She hums noncommittally, not reassured. “I have to review the account of our kills. Make sure they’ve properly calculated our reward. Then I have to claim it from the vault and distribute it to the army. Which is usually done in the midst of a celebration. A good time for us to do some preparation for the business of the March. With any luck, it’ll go better than our campaign.”
“The campaign didn’t go so bad.”
“It could have gone better. This time, we were able to mitigate the damages. I don’t think that’ll be possible if a northern army marches on another city.” She sighs. “Dragons if we stay, civil war if we leave. The saints must have turned their backs on us, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. When I think of all the trouble I get into, I think of it as paying back the luck debt of meeting Cosmo. Ah, that’s the elemental that changed me.”
“…its name is Cosmo?”
“That’s not his true name. Elementals don’t give those out. But, yes, Cosmo is the name he gave me to address him by.”
“That is a stupid name.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing that powerful can have a stupid name. When you’re confronted with something like Cosmo, you change your definition of stupid.” He could call himself Fluffy Kittenpaws and the only word I’d ever use to describe his name is regal. “Back to business. We pay the hunters and…then what?”
The true question is when do we leave? Or, maybe, can she leave knowing that she may be condemning her brother to death? And can I accept her decision if she tells me something I don’t want to hear?
I’m suddenly reminded of Geneva’s plan to manipulate me into conquering the north. It had two paths. One of which centered around separating me from Alana. She predicted the grief would make me mad. Mad and destructive.
I can’t help thinking about it as I wonder if this business with Khan will drive us apart. I don’t think it will, and I don’t doubt Alana, but worries don’t care about logic. They chew through rationale like rats through grain sacks. No matter what precautions people take to keep them out, they always find a way to get where they aren’t wanted.
“I need to have a talk with my mother. I also want to talk with Aunt Anastasia…but that’s all to waste time. I want to give you a chance with Khan. One week. Father doesn’t know how strong Geneva is but I do. If she can’t see hope for him in a week, then there is no hope. Better to be done with it than drag the pain out.”
She sounds pained but determined. I restrain my relief to a small smile. “Alright, Alana.”
“It’s customary for the field commander to host a party for the soldiers. It’s usually nothing more than free drinks and food in the Witness Circle. There’s also a mass funeral for the fallen that don’t have families that care to give them special send-offs. That kind of serves as the entertainment. It’ll be a short party otherwise.”
“Maybe we can organize a dance.”
She gives me look over her shoulder. “Northerners don’t dance.”
“Oh, yeah. You proved that.”
The look turns into a glare. “It would be great if you could arrange things. For tonight.”
Tonight?! “Isn’t that a little fast?”
“Everything in Victory happens fast. Has to, because you don’t know who’ll be alive tomorrow. Party. Tonight. If you could.”
“Uh…as long as it’s simple, I guess.”
“Great. Thank you. Ask Bulliard if you have any questions or need ideas. He’s got plenty of experience.”
I wonder if it’d be better to ask Yulia. This sounds like something she’d love to be involved with. I’m also interested in what kind of preparations she thinks she can do to prepare for the conflict with the estrazi. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Going to stay in bed all morning?”
“Just until a certain elf gets up. Or moves her arm.”
Kii groans, fidgeting but not making progress in getting up. From it, I know it’s going to take rougher methods than a little shake to get her moving.
“I’ll see you two later.”
“Never drinking again,” Alana mutters as she wakes up with what I imagine is a terrible headache. It’s been years since I’ve suffered a good hangover. The overcast sky barely allows any light into her room and there is no noise besides our own breaths but the slightest of either can be agonizing. From the look on her face, that’s exactly how she feels.
Her disgruntled mood lasts as long as it takes Kierra to sleepily grasp one of her hands. Alana’s scowl fades to a frown. “You know, it’s difficult to stop doing bad things when you two keep waving away the consequences.”
“Most people would think that’s a good thing,” I mumble beside her. I’ve been awake for a while, on account of this body needing far less sleep than most, but years of considering lazy mornings a luxury have made me slow to rise.
“Have to turn in that report.”
“Already did.”
“…you took care of it?” She gasps. “Please tell me you didn’t take me seriously last night and hand over that nonsense we fabricated while very, very drunk?”
“To be clear, you were the only one who was drunk. And no, I didn’t.”
“…how’d it go?”
Do you mean besides him pressuring me to propose to you? And threatening me to evaluate my loyalty to the north? “It went fine.”
“Really? He had nothing to say about any of it?”
“He expressed his doubt, which, you know, understandable. He did also ask me to evaluate Khan.”
“Evaluate him how?”
“He wants Geneva to evaluate his mind. Tell him definitively whether she can heal him or not.”
She sits up straighter. “You told me you didn’t know how long that would take. Or if it would take.”
“I did. I told your father the same thing. He wants to try.” I sigh heavily. “He knows we want to leave. If I can’t make progress or assure him that progress can be made…he wants me to tell him so.”
Alana’s shoulders slump. I don’t have to explain what those words mean to her. “What is he thinking?” she mutters more to herself than me. “If Khan’s death is tied to us leaving…is he using him as a chain to keep us here? Why would, no. That’s a stupid question. A better one would be who wouldn’t? We are far too valuable to have out of his sight.” She flops onto her back and puts a pillow over her head before yelling a stream of muffled curses.
That’s exactly how I feel about the situation. “I agreed, by the way.”
Her pillow harmlessly hits me in the face. “Why?!”
“It was better than the alternative.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “The alternative.” I’m preparing myself to explain that her father tried to threaten me into staying in the north but, to my surprise, she doesn’t ask. Instead, she climbs over me and gets up. I roll over, claiming the still warm gap in the bed as I watch her strip before her dresser. A toned green arm snakes out of the blanket Kierra’s huddled under, wrapping around my waist and pulling me against my wife.
“Aren’t you going to ask what the alternative was?”
“I don’t have to ask,” she tells me as she dresses for the day. “Victory is not known for its proficiency in negotiation. He threatened you, didn’t he? If not you directly, seeing as the March showed exactly how hard it is to kill you, then something connected to you.”
Ah. I think I understand why she doesn’t want to ask what the alternative was. “He didn’t threaten you, Alana.”
She stiffens. Looks like I was right. “He’s willing to kill his son. The son that lived in his house and ate at his table every night. I can’t expect him to care more about the stray he picked up only a few years ago.”
“I can’t tell you what he’s thinking but he did not threaten you. Not even vaguely. His ‘negotiations’ only involved me.”
She hums noncommittally, not reassured. “I have to review the account of our kills. Make sure they’ve properly calculated our reward. Then I have to claim it from the vault and distribute it to the army. Which is usually done in the midst of a celebration. A good time for us to do some preparation for the business of the March. With any luck, it’ll go better than our campaign.”
“The campaign didn’t go so bad.”
“It could have gone better. This time, we were able to mitigate the damages. I don’t think that’ll be possible if a northern army marches on another city.” She sighs. “Dragons if we stay, civil war if we leave. The saints must have turned their backs on us, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. When I think of all the trouble I get into, I think of it as paying back the luck debt of meeting Cosmo. Ah, that’s the elemental that changed me.”
“…its name is Cosmo?”
“That’s not his true name. Elementals don’t give those out. But, yes, Cosmo is the name he gave me to address him by.”
“That is a stupid name.”
“No, it’s not. Nothing that powerful can have a stupid name. When you’re confronted with something like Cosmo, you change your definition of stupid.” He could call himself Fluffy Kittenpaws and the only word I’d ever use to describe his name is regal. “Back to business. We pay the hunters and…then what?”
The true question is when do we leave? Or, maybe, can she leave knowing that she may be condemning her brother to death? And can I accept her decision if she tells me something I don’t want to hear?
I’m suddenly reminded of Geneva’s plan to manipulate me into conquering the north. It had two paths. One of which centered around separating me from Alana. She predicted the grief would make me mad. Mad and destructive.
I can’t help thinking about it as I wonder if this business with Khan will drive us apart. I don’t think it will, and I don’t doubt Alana, but worries don’t care about logic. They chew through rationale like rats through grain sacks. No matter what precautions people take to keep them out, they always find a way to get where they aren’t wanted.
“I need to have a talk with my mother. I also want to talk with Aunt Anastasia…but that’s all to waste time. I want to give you a chance with Khan. One week. Father doesn’t know how strong Geneva is but I do. If she can’t see hope for him in a week, then there is no hope. Better to be done with it than drag the pain out.”
She sounds pained but determined. I restrain my relief to a small smile. “Alright, Alana.”
“It’s customary for the field commander to host a party for the soldiers. It’s usually nothing more than free drinks and food in the Witness Circle. There’s also a mass funeral for the fallen that don’t have families that care to give them special send-offs. That kind of serves as the entertainment. It’ll be a short party otherwise.”
“Maybe we can organize a dance.”
She gives me look over her shoulder. “Northerners don’t dance.”
“Oh, yeah. You proved that.”
The look turns into a glare. “It would be great if you could arrange things. For tonight.”
Tonight?! “Isn’t that a little fast?”
“Everything in Victory happens fast. Has to, because you don’t know who’ll be alive tomorrow. Party. Tonight. If you could.”
“Uh…as long as it’s simple, I guess.”
“Great. Thank you. Ask Bulliard if you have any questions or need ideas. He’s got plenty of experience.”
I wonder if it’d be better to ask Yulia. This sounds like something she’d love to be involved with. I’m also interested in what kind of preparations she thinks she can do to prepare for the conflict with the estrazi. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Going to stay in bed all morning?”
“Just until a certain elf gets up. Or moves her arm.”
Kii groans, fidgeting but not making progress in getting up. From it, I know it’s going to take rougher methods than a little shake to get her moving.
“I’ll see you two later.”
