Chapter 10:
Dirty Business
The Elder Scrolls Series is property of Bethesda. Familiar of Zero is (currently) property of Media Factory (I believe)
"Talking"
"Thoughts"
"Powerful (Dragon/Daedra/etc.) speech"
"DOVAHZUL"
Line Break
"Over here!"
Siesta didn't pause to check how far away the men chasing her were. All she knew was that if she was caught, she'd be dead, or worse.
She started to sob; she'd tried, really truly tried. The…job, the pay, was a balm in light of her father's recent injuries. But she just…couldn't debase herself like that. She'd prayed to the Founder that the weeks she'd spent apart from Count Mott at his estate could prepare her for the things he wanted to do. But the moment he pulled her body flush against his, his wine-filled breath wafting in her nose, hands roaming down and up her legs; she shuddered just thinking about it. From there, it was shockingly easy to grab a nearby vase and slam it against his head. It was surprisingly also easy to leave the estate. But she wasn't dumb enough—despite what some might think—to believe she'd get away scot-free.
She'd just hoped she'd get more than an hour head start.
CRA-BOOM
Siesta flinched, jerking her head up at the dark sheet of gray overhead. No, no, no, no! Not rain! But even as she pleaded and begged to an increasingly indifferent god, rain started to fall. She started to run once more, uncaring of the liquid obstructing her vision; her best hope was to try and find a cave or tall enough tree to hide in before the dirt turned to mud. So, all she could do was run.
Line Break
"Master, can we please go back to the camp?" Her master merely chuckled; that soft, mocking sound that told her all she needed to know. "But it's raining!" she pleaded.
"Well, it's a good thing you've got a hood."
"Silence, blade!" she hissed.
Derflinger chortled, cross guard flapping up-and-down wildly. Louise ignored the blade and stared at her master. When thunder boomed overhead, she gestured dramatically to the sky.
He let out another infuriating chuckle, "There's no lightning, and the downpour isn't too heavy; we're staying." At her frown, he added, "Besides, if you can hit a target at fifty yards in the rain, you'll hit it at fifty yards in clear weather." He then hummed, stroking his beard, "Though, in that case I need to find you a snowstorm, then you can really call yourself an expert markswoman."
Louise paled, "Rain is fine!"
"Then go on!" Johan said with a laugh.
Louise grumbled beneath her breath, but turned back to the targets nonetheless. She instinctually swept her hair back, only to pause and scoff as she recalled its much shorter length. Despite Master Johan's warnings, he was a decent hair stylist. Of course, she'd be a laughing stock back at the Academy; it looked like the kind of hair Commoner's wore, with her short bangs, uncovered ears, and cut very close to the back of her head. It really wasn't all that bad; but compared to her previous hairstyle, it was severely lacking. But, it was functional.
She bent down, grabbing her bow and pulling her hood over her head. With a heavy sigh, she entered the stance he'd drilled into her; non-dominant hand on the handle, staring sideways at the target, back straight, feet a little less than shoulder-width apart. She grabbed an arrow from the quiver strapped on her hip, nocking it slowly.
It irritated her that the storm didn't grow heavy; despite the thunder overhead, the rain didn't exceed a light drizzle. Thus, she was left no choice but to practice with the one weapon she despised above the rest.
She sucked in a breath, drawing the arrow back. She placed her thumb along the end of the shaft to keep it steady as she aimed for her target; the furthest one directly in front of her. Her arms trembled slightly at the strain, but she kept them steady.
Steady.
Release.
The arrow flew through the air, and given the way it curved to the left, she could already tell she messed up her shot. Her irritation grew as the arrow just barely impacted the edge of the target.
"Least you hit it this time!"
"Ignore him," her Master stated as Louise drew another arrow, "and remember the wind."
A retort crawled its way up her throat; but she stifled it, focusing on lining up her next shot. She didn't hit the center this time either, but she was further inside. Her mood lifted as, with each shot, she grew closer and closer to the center. At least until her twelfth shot, which veered so far to the left that it completely missed, taking her good mood along with it.
The clearing was silent save for the constant pitter-patter of the rain. Until eventually, her Master said, "Do you know what you did wrong?"
"I missed." That drew a guffaw from the blade.
"You grew over-confident," Johan corrected. "Released too quickly after the draw."
"I understand," she said, turning around and bowing her head.
"I'm sure you do. Now, act on it!" her master intoned.
Louise nodded resolutely and turned back to the target. She took a moment to let her arms rest before bringing her bow back up and drawing another arrow.
At least, she would have, were it not for the piercing shriek that echoed over the rain.
Before Louise could properly register it, she found herself shoved backwards, her bow falling to the ground as the blade was shoved into her grasp. "Stay behind me," her master murmured lowly.
Louise opened her mouth to speak, but Derflinger spoke above her. "Best not question him now, little lady," he whispered urgently. So, she didn't.
The scream came again, and Johan stepped back, his right arm hovering protectively before Louise, some unknown spell crackling within his palm. Then, another shriek, louder, closer than before. Louise followed the sound, blinking as a figure clad in a grey cloak broke through some brush at the top of the hill. They yelped, flailing their arms in an attempt to keep from falling over. They failed, however, and tumbled down the hill in a series of grunts and shrieks, falling before Louise and Johan with a thud.
The figure trembled, struggling to lift itself up. When it did so, Louise was surprised to see a young girl's face stare up at them, fear and alarm shining in her pale-blue eyes. She looked oddly familiar, though from where, Louise could not place.
The girl tried to rise further, only to gasp, falling over and clutching her left foot. Johan grunted, "Stay close," and slowly moved forward.
The woman whipped her head back up at their approach, and Louise was unsure if the wetness clinging to her cheeks were tears or raindrops.
"Easy, easy," her master said in a soothing voice, "we mean you no harm." The girl's terrified gaze turned hopeful. But only for a moment, for those same eyes wavered, before shutting closed as she fell in a heap.
Johan surged forward, Louise close behind. He bent down, turning the girl over. He paused, "That's…an interesting wardrobe."
Louise looked over his shoulder, frowning in disgust at the girl's proactive, skin-revealing outfit. "Some sort of harlot," she thought derisively.
"Check her foot," came her master's abrupt command. She turned back to see him press his fingers against the girl's neck. "Now!" he shouted when Louise didn't move.
Louise quickly and carefully moved to her commanded spot. She lifted the girl's cloak—which she noted was far too big for her frame—frowning as she observed the limb. "I, uh, I don't see anything."
"No blood, no bone?"
Louise groaned queasily but answered 'no'.
"Okay. Can't be too bad, then."
"She's gotta be over here!"
Louise whirled around towards the top of the hill, squinting her eyes to find the source of the new voice, only seeing what seemed to be torchlight at the top of the hill the woman fell from.
VRRRMM
Louise turned back around at the sound of a portal to Oblivion opening, jerking back as a translucent man stepped through the purple void. Johan stood, gesturing to the unconscious girl, "Grab her, carefully," he commanded. The…shade did so, mist curling around its form as it bent down and held the girl in both hands.
Louise furrowed her brow, "Wha—"
"This is Arniel—well, his shade," her master preemptively said, "and you two are going to go hide behind that brush over there," he gestured to his left.
"Bu—"
"I think she went down this hill!"
"Now!" Johan hissed, rising to his feet, "and take Derflinger with you!" Louise did so as quickly as she could, ducking low to hide her figure in the brush. She jolted when Arniel silently did the same right beside her.
"Uh…hey there," the blade said hesitantly.
Arniel, the girl still held in his grasp, slowly did turned to face them. Louise shivered at his dead, see-through gaze.
"Greetings, gentlemen!" Louise turned back to Johan—who'd summoned a plain-looking oak staff and a covered basket into his hands—blinking at the three men slowly but surely making their way down the hill. "How can I assist you?"
The men all wore the same, drab, red-and-white uniform. One of them—the eldest by far, with bits of gray peppered in his brown locks—wielded a spear, and the other two simple steel swords. The spear-wielder found the ground first, and after taking a moment to steady himself, glared at Johan. "We're looking for a girl," he barked.
Her master chuckled, despite the rough looks the men sent his way. "Maybe times have changed," he japed, "but I believe women respond better to flowers than steel."
The younger two scowled deeply, but the eldest man smirked along with Johan, "Aye, aye. Have you seen her? Fair skin, dark hair, pale-blue eyes?"
Johan hummed, leaning against his staff, "Yes."
Louise dropped her jaw in shock, and given the soft clank of metal beneath her, Derflinger did his very best equivalent.
"She fell down just before me," Johan continued. "Before I could see if she was alright, however, she rose to her feet and ran off in…that direction," he said, gesturing to his right.
The three men exchanged looks, before nodding. The elder man nodded, "I see. Thank you." He swept a hand out, "Quickly men, after her!"
"If I may," Johan asked, keeping the men in place, "Why are you chasing after her? What crime has she committed that warrants three armed men chase her in the middle of a storm—light it may be?"
The elder man hesitated slightly, but the younger man on his left said, "Dumb girl ran off just as she was about to do her damn job!"
Johan tilted his head, "And what job is that?"
"Being Count Mott's mis—maid! Personal maid," the other young man hastily corrected.
Louise let out a small sigh; the situation was far less dire than previously thought. She turned to look at the unconscious woman (deftly ignoring the blue-ish man...thing holding her). She was certainly pretty, easy to see why she'd been picked above any others to be a Noble's mistress, or 'Personal Maid', as some preferred to call them—a pointless distinction in Louise's eyes, everyone knew what those women were. She made to rise, to put this whole mess behind them, only for a cold hand to grip her shoulder. She bit back a yelp as she was forced back down. She glared at the impassive shade, "What was that for?!" she hissed.
"You almost gave away our position!" the blade whispered heatedly.
"What are you talking about? We just need to give her back to these men, and then we can be on our way."
Derflinger's cross guard dropped open with a clank, and, out the corner of her eye, she could see that even the stoic shade's expression had morphed into slight shock.
"Well, I suppose I'd best let you be on your way," her master's voice turned their attention back to the scene before them.
The younger men grunted, but the elder man inclined his head, "Thank you for your assistance. You should come to Count Mott's estate in a few days, I'm sure he would see your compliance rewarded."
Johan nodded, "I just might pay him a visit. Where is this estate?" The elder man quickly spouted off directions, after which, Johan nodded, "Good luck, then."
The man didn't reply, instead breaking into a jog, "C'mon men, if we hurry we'll catch her before nightfall!"
Louise watched as the trio fell into a formation, marching away. She let out a breath she hadn't realized was caught in her throat; now, all they had to do was figure out what to do with the Commoner.
But then her Master raised his staff, and Louise's heart stopped when she saw that he was aiming at the three men's backs.
"Icicle Barrage," he intoned.
The tip of his staff glowed blue, and the raindrops around him froze in the air. They swirled around him, forming dozens of tiny crystalline daggers. The freshly made weapons hung in the air for a second, before zooming forward.
They sliced into the elder man first, and before the other two men could fully react, they too were cut down.
Louise, for the first time non-related to another's merciless taunting, wished she was deaf. Two of the men hadn't died immediately, and were twitching uselessly, pleading for help.
Than another set of icicles formed above the men, sinking into the skulls. Silencing them forever.
"Louise, its safe now, you can come out."
Louise stared at the dead men, wide-eyed and pale as their blood seeped into the forest floor, washing away in the rain.
"That's your cue, little lady." Derflinger's somber tone brought her back to reality.
Louise moved mechanically, never taking her eyes off the corpses just some feet away. She wasn't a fool; it was obvious that Johan had killed people before—what with his talks of 'combat' and whatnot. Her own parents had most assuredly killed people during their military careers. But to actually…witness the act of murder…
She shuddered, shoving aside her fear in favor of anger. "What have you done?!" she shouted.
Her master grunted, walking over to the shade and checking over the Commoner, "I think it's fairly obvious," he dryly stated.
"You didn't have to kill them!"
"Perhaps not," he admitted, casting a healing spell on the girl, "but I couldn't risk them discovering our camp."
"Plus," Derflinger added, "there's the whole 'sexual extortion' thing their boss has going on."
"What are you talking about?" she held the blade out, glaring at it, "She's a personal maid; they know what they get into."
She noticed Johan freeze, and the blade took a sharp breath, "I…okay then."
"Louise," a chill went violently down her spine at his stony tone, "I realize that you've had a fairly sheltered life, but please, for the love whatever divine being is listening, think before you speak!"
Louise stepped back at his forceful tone, only to surge forward, "Who are you to determine such a thing? To say my life is lacking in any way!"
"A man who can read between the lines!" he thundered, forcing Louise back with a flinch. He then closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "….Now is not the time for this, we need to get this woman back to our camp."
Louise, pale and trembling, merely nodded, quickly falling in line. She looked over her shoulder, however, "What about….them?"
Without pause, her master flicked his wrists out, and a pair of portals to Oblivion opened up before them. From them, a pack of four translucent, blue wolves stalked out onto the grass. They gazed expectantly at Johan, who merely grunted and jerked his head at the corpses.
Louise quickened her pace as the wolves howled and bounded for their meals.
Line Break
The shade, to Louise's mild discomfort, stayed long after they'd returned to camp. It wasn't in the tent with them, but she could see it's silhouette just outside the tarp.
Another source of discomfort was the Commoner resting on her master's bed. She had a blanket to cover up her body—itself barely covered by her 'uniform'—but Louise could tell that she was a shapely, comely girl. Far more than her. "Not that that's too hard," a vicious voice mocked in her head. She dispelled the voice with a grunt.
"So, there's no more damage?" the blade said, returning Louise to their conversation.
Johan shook his head, a small sigh escaping his lips, "It would seem that she ran away before anything too bad could happen to her."
Louise scoffed disbelievingly; she'd thought her master above such silly things. It's not like the Commoner was a slave; being a Personal Maid was an occupation—detestable it may be in her mind.
Her master turned his wizened gaze towards her, and Louise, expecting to see his previous anger, was stunned to see his gaze held disappointment. She flushed, despite herself.
She expected him to reprimand her; instead, he walked over to his cabinet. "Let's hear what she has to say, hm?" he said, pulling out a blue vial.
He walked over to the Commoner, popping open the vial and waving it under her nose. The effect was immediate; her eyes popped open with a gasp, and she flailed her arms slightly. "Wha—Where am I?!" she shrieked when she saw Johan.
Johan, corking the vial, held his arms out placatingly, "Relax, relax." He stepped back a couple steps, "You are safe." When the Commoner darted her eyes across the room—briefly pausing at Louise, to her confusion—he added, "Those men are no longer chasing you."
"Y-You saved me?" she asked, voice quivering and tears pooling in her eyes.
Johan nodded, "Of course."
The Commoner moved quickly, all but leaping up and engulfing Master Johan in a tight embrace. She started to sob, voice wavering as she laid platitude upon platitude on Louise's master.
Her lips curled in distaste, and she started to rise to reprimand the Commoner.
"Don't," came a stern warning from her left. She whirled her head around, glaring at Derflinger. "Set aside your petty beliefs," it intoned, "and recognize her for what she is; a scared girl."
Louise clicked her tongue but kept silent all the same.
"Are you well?" her master's deep voice caught her attention. "Do you require food, water?"
The Commoner stepped back, wiping her eyes. "Y-Yes," she answered.
Johan nodded, walking over to a couple pouches hanging from the wall, "Fair warning, nothing's warm."
"Anything's fine," the Commoner replied with a small grin.
Johan smirked back, and wordlessly pulled out some fruit, jerky, and a flask of water. With a flick of the wrist, he summoned a plate, and upon placing the food on it, telekinetically moved it onto the table.
The Commoner gasped, "You're a mage!"
Louise rolled her eyes, "Obviously."
That got the Commoner to turn around, peering at her. Louise glared back, "What are you looking at, Commoner?"
The girl gasped, "Mademoiselle Louise?"
Louise blinked, "Wha—you know me?"
The Commoner nodded quickly, "Yes! I was a maid at the Academy."
"Ah, you're Siesta, aren't you?" Johan suddenly piped up. When the Commoner whirled around, he added, "We met one-night…at least a month ago by now. I kept your laundry from hitting the floor."
"Oh!" the Commoner gasped, "Monsieur Johan."
"Just Johan is fine." The Commoner nodded slowly and shifted her gaze between the two mages. Johan preempted her question, saying, "I offered my services to train Louise after her wrongful—inexcusable, really—expulsion from the Academy." Louise, despite her irritation, preened at her master's praise. "But I'd like to focus on you," Louise's mouth curled into a snarl.
"Oh," the Commoner sat down, "there's nothing, really." She then started to stuff her face.
Louise may not be as 'experienced' as her master, but she could recognize an attempt to forestall a conversation. She'd done it enough in her youth. He, however, seemed content to wait until the Commoner finished eating. When she did finish, he asked, "Tell me, did you accept the job of your own volition?" When she stilled, he added, "It's fine if you did. Granted, it'd mean that I killed those men for over a girl unwilling to fulfill her end of a bargain, but you did look terrified."
The Commoner paled at his words. "You k-k-killed them?"
"Yes," was Johan's blunt answer.
"W-W-W-W," she stammered, unable to do much else.
"Please, be honest," Johan said with a smile.
The Commoner gulped, but soon said, "I was not Count Mott's first choice."
"Who was?"
"A woman that worked in the kitchen, Sylvia."
"Why did he change his mind?"
The Commoner smirked mirthlessly, "She got pregnant—at least, that what she claimed."
"You doubt her?"
A click of the tongue, "It's well known that Count Mott despises anything to do with children—I would have made the same claim, were it believable." At Johan's cocked brow, she continued, "Sylvia's engaged."
"You're lying!" Louise blurted out.
The Commoner scowled, "I assure you, Mademoiselle, I am not."
"You are!" Louise screeched, "A Noble such as Count Mott would not advance upon an engaged woman!"
The Commoner laughed—laughed—at her, "I knew you were a poor student, but I didn't think you were dumb!"
Louise rose to her feet, "You jumped up harlot!"
"Louise," her master's calm voice cut through her rage, "Calm yourself. Remember that Siesta has been through an ordeal." As Louise scowled he turned to the Commoner, "Siesta," he said, voice still cold, "don't insult my student. I may have saved you from those men, but I can just as easily drag back to this 'Count Mott'."
The Commoner paled, and Louise felt a bit better at her master's words.
The Commoner clasped her hands over her lap. She fidgeted in place a bit, before saying, "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I am thankful that you saved me. It's just…I was happy at the Academy; I had friends, decent pay, good meals, a warm place to sleep. But," she chuckled hollowly, "even roses have thorns."
"Count Mott," Johan intoned.
The Commoner nodded, "I-I haven't been around all that long, but the older staff, they make sure to warn the new female employees."
"Warn them about what?" Louise resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her master and the Commoner looked at her; if she was going to be forced to listen to this nonsense, she might as well participate.
"About his…tastes," the Commoner soon continued, "how he regularly gets Headmaster Osmund to…gift him maids."
Louise blinked; that couldn't be true. The Headmaster had a generous reputation when it came to Commoners. He wouldn't just give one up for another man's sexual deviancies. Of course, this is the same man who used his Founder-given Familiar to peep on women.
"Osmund just allows this to happen?" there was a rumble akin to thunder in her master's voice.
"He doesn't have much of a choice," the Commoner feebly defended, "Count Mott—"
"Cannot possibly hold a position as prestigious as headmaster of an Academy for magic?"
The Commoner grew silent, while Louise racked her brain to see if she could recall who Count Mott was and what he did. When she found that she couldn't, it was only reasonable to assume that he wasn't in charge of anything important. But…that would mean that headmaster Osmund let himself be pressured by a nobody. Surely, that couldn't be right?
"I…he tried to help me," the Commoner weakly stated.
"Cleary, he did not try hard enough."
"But he promised that he would take in my baby bro—!" the Commoner gasped, "My family!" she shouted. Tears welled up in her eyes, "Oh, I knew I shouldn't have run! Now Count Mott will punish my family for my escape."
Louise opened her mouth to speak, only for her master to quickly turn towards her, arching a brow. They stared at each other a moment, and then Louise closed her mouth, unable to think of a true argument against the Commoner's words.
Johan turned back to the Commoner, "You're certain Count Mott will go after your family?" The Commoner, tears streaking down her face, nodded jerkily. "Is there anything that can be done to persuade him otherwise?"
The Commoner took a few deep breaths, wiping away her tears, "I…I would have to go back to him." She was trembling, but—earning a tiny, tiny bit of Louise's respect—held her head high, "I cannot allow my family to suffer for my own mistake."
"No," Johan stated as he rose to his feet, "you cannot. Nor will you have to."
The Commoner blinked, "What do you mean?"
"That Count Mott shall no longer be a concern—nor anyone," he said as he snapped his fingers, opening a portal to Oblivion.
The Commoner stared blankly at him. But Louise shot up to her feet, "Master Johan!" she shouted, "Surely you cannot be thinking," she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat, "o-of doing what I think you're thinking of doing."
"You mean killing Count Mott?" Louise's eyes bulged out at his blunt answer, and she could faintly hear the Commoner gasp in fright.
"Y-You can't!" the Commoner shouted, "He's a Noble, you cannot just—"
"Oh," master Johan said with a low, almost sinister chuckle, "I think you'll find that I can do just about anything I desire. And what I currently desire," he turned to stare at the Commoner, "is to end the current source of your suffering."
"B-b-b-b—"
"Save your breath, child," he said, opening a portal to Oblivion, "I'm doing this; for you, as well as his past and potential victims." He then gruffly shouted, "The Black Hand chest!" into the portal.
His personal demon—Daedra, Louise internally corrected—acquiesced the request wordlessly. Perhaps it knew better than to snark at him when he spoke in that tone?
Master Johan kneeled down, opening the chest. Louise eyed the storage unit. It looked to be made of plain oak and iron, the only truly identifying mark being the large, black handprint on the side.
He nodded, closing the chest and hefting it over his shoulder. He swept his right hand out, and another portal to Oblivion opened up, a shade—dressed in robes adorned with a handprint similar to the one on his chest—walking through. "My Listener," it said with a soft, silky voice. Louise balked, not only because this one could speak, but because it sounded menacing.
"Stand guard outside the tent with Arniel," Johan stated.
"As you command," the shade said with a low bow.
"And here," he telekinetically lifted and placed Derflinger into the shade's hands, "use Derflinger."
"Woah!" the blade screeched, "You are cold!"
"A speaking blade?" the shade said with slight awe, "How fascinating…what dark magic went into your creation, I wonder?"
"Uh…" the blade dumbly replied.
"I've always wondered," the shade said as it walked to the tent's entrance, "how does it feel to sink into someone's flesh, slide between their ribs, and pierce their heart? Surely, for a weapon made to kill it must be…euphoric?"
"I…don't think we're going to get along," Derflinger said as the pair exited the tent.
"Louise," she turned away from the macabre conversation to see her master vanish his chest into a blue and black portal—a high-level Alteration spell, if she recalled correctly, a personal dimension spell for short-term storage purposes. "Stay in the tent until I return—that applies to you as well, Siesta—I won't be long."
Louise knew she had to do something, to stop him. But her words initial rant died in her throat as her master turned his cool gaze towards her. But she held her ground, saying, "This is wrong," at his arched brow, she scowled, "Killing Count Mott, regardless of what he may have done, is wrong!"
To her surprise, he nodded, "Yes…murder is rarely a good or easy solution. But tell me, can you think of another way to punish him for his deeds?"
Louise immediately thought of the Court system, and just as quickly banished that line of thought. 'Spoiled' and 'sheltered' she may be, even she knew that the Courts were heavily in favor of Nobles—her mother and father had complained of useless soldiers getting off without punishment because their parents were friends of the judges. Hell, even if Count Mott made unwanted advances on a woman of high birth, he'd still probably go unpunished—or wed her, in which case the woman in question would still lose. Thus, she kept silent.
As her master walked for the tent's entrance, he took a moment to gently pat her shoulder. "Don't worry," he said with a small smile, "this will be over soon."
Louise paled at his calm confidence; how many times had he done such a thing? What life did he lead before teaching that could lead him to speak with such certainty?
He left without another word.
Louise sighed heavily as she sank back in her seat, dropping her head in her hands. What a mess.
After some time passed, she lifted her head, eyeing the Commoner—Siesta, she recalled. The girl was pale and seemed to be shivering—from fear, given the heavy cloak drawn over her shoulders. Louise sighed rising from her seat and moving over to her master's cot.
"W-What are you doing?"
Louise bent down, grunting as she pulled out a small chest—his 'personal ale house', as he called it. "You…look like you need to calm down," she said as she grabbed a couple glass bottles.
"Oh," Siesta accepted one of the bottles with an uncertain frown, "Uh…thank you, Mademoiselle." She popped open the bottle, taking a small sip. She hummed appreciatively, "This is really sweet!" Louise nodded, taking a drink herself. Siesta peered at the bottle, "Honningbrew Meadery…never heard of it."
"Neither have I," Louise admitted, "I believe it's Germanian."
"Doesn't sound like any Germanian brewery I've ever heard of."
Louise snorted derisively, "And what would you know of liquor?"
"Well, not me personally," Siesta said, seemingly ignorant of Louise's tone, "But my uncle own's a tavern, and most of his drinks are imported from Germania."
"Your family runs a tavern?"
The other girl shook her head, "No, just my uncle, Scarron, and his daughter—my cousin—Jessica. My own family," she chuckled, "well, my siblings and father would call us 'cultivators of the earth'. But we're just farmers; vegetables, mainly."
Louise grunted, "You have siblings?"
"Yes!" Siesta answered with a smile—the first genuine Louise had seen today, "Seven younger ones!"
Louise choked on her drink, prompting the other drinker to rush over and rub her back soothingly. "Seven?!" Louise rasped.
Siesta giggled, sinking down onto the ground, "A lot, I know. I begged my mother and father to stop after four." She then gazed questioningly at Louise, "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but you have siblings as well, no?"
Louise narrowed her eyes, "How do you know about them?"
Siesta blushed lightly, looking down at her knees, "Oh…the older staff love to…reminisce about past students."
"Or compare me to my 'perfect' sisters," Louise thought bitterly. She then dropped her shoulders in shame; Cattleya had never been anything but kind to her, she didn't deserve any sort of scorn.
Éléonore, on the other hand, could go ahead and jump in a ditch.
"Is it true," Louise returned her attention to the other girl in the tent, "that your elder sister turned her dorm into an animal sanctuary?"
Louise laughed, a true, hearty laugh, "I never witnessed it, but I'll believe it." An old memory bubbled to the forefront of her mind, making her giggle. "I remember," she said between sips, "when I was seven I believe, my father arranged for our manor's stable to be added to—to house the animals Cattleya kept taking in—her room was starting to smell something awful." A snort, "Of course, Mother quickly found out what he was doing—I don't know how he thought he could get away with it—and he was forced to sleep in those stables for a month!"
That set Siesta off into a fit of giggles. When they subsided, she brought the bottle of mead up to her lips, only to frown and pull it back, "I'm out," she said grumpily.
Louise grunted, checking her own bottle, "So am I." Louise turned her gaze to chest with the rest of the liquor. It was so far away, and the room kept on wobbling. Louise groaned, and then remembered that she could cast magic. Thus, with a wide grin, she unholstered her wand and aimed for the chest. She then frowned; whatever wind spells she could cast to bring the chest to her would most assuredly destroy the tent, and that simply wouldn't do!
Thus, she lowered her wand, and instead raised her free hand. She ignored Siesta's confused noises, focusing on her master's foreign magic.
Alteration was a complicated subject, she'd found out. While all of her master's magic was based around the idea that reality could, and should, be bent to a mage's will, "Alteration magic," one book had said, "runs on the belief that reality is a suggestion dreamt up by the gods." She…still had trouble wrapping her head around such sentiments, but she could cast spells from the school well enough. Telekinesis easily being her favorite. Not that her master let her use it to grab things just out of reach, the hypocrite. But he's not here so…
Louise focused, gathering magic in her hand. After a moment, her palm glowed orange.
"Ooh," Siesta slurred, "pretty."
Louise ignored her in favor of doing her magic. She aimed at the chest—both with her hand and her eyes. She knew her master had such mastery over the spell that he didn't need to actually see any items he wanted to telekinetically move, he could just flick his wrist and make a plate do tricks in the air before gently falling into his grasp.
She just had to make the chest move five feet. Easy.
At least, she thought so, until she actually cast the spell. The end result being the chest falling forward, dragging along the floor before coming to a dead stop at Siesta's feet.
"Uh…whoops," Louise meekly uttered, dropping her hand.
Siesta gingerly poked the chest, slowly lifting the top. "Oh, thank the Founder, the bottles didn't break!"
Louise smiled widely; she'd count that a success.
A/N: I can't remember if it was ever stated what Siesta's family did in Tarbes, and five minutes of looking it up via Google revealed nothing. So, I made them farmers. Also, Mott's gonna die. Be sure to leave a review. Later.