Shadows Under the Oak Tree

by trimurti

[FE7] Canas married a magic user partly to learn more about the anima system; her reason might have been just as selfish. A slice-of-life quiet drama set in mostly quiet Ilia.

10. Scars

Shadows Under the Oak Tree

(C) Intelligent Systems and Nintendo

-0-

10. Scars
(Friendly threats. Inside her, outside her.)

"Miss Lily, repeat after me. 'Left is left. Right is right.'"

"... 'Left is left. Right is right.'"

"'When dodging left, move decisively to the left.'"

Lily sighed. "I learned my lesson already. I don't need the extra humiliation of being treated as if...as if I were five."

"Actually, I'm treating you like I would a ten-year-old," Rosliand stated. She tied the ends of the cloth wrap around Lily's upper right arm, then rose from Lily's bed. "This is one of the first lessons taught by the trainers of the Union."

"It's a very good one, too," Lily replied, gingerly moving her arm to test it. There was only the slightest twinge from the wound, a vicious swipe that had felt, at the time, as if the blade had scraped along the bone. The wonders of modern medical knowledge, she thought as she looked at the emptied vulnerary bottle on her night stand. "You did very well with the binding," she noted as she flexed her biceps and watched as the wrap held.

"I don't like that," Rosliand said, a twitch of her eyebrows the only hint of how deeply she felt. It had taken years for Lily to decipher Rosliand's behavior; she could easily see just how shaken the older woman was now.

Softly, Lily touched Rosliand's hand, fingertips to fingertips. "I flinched when I shouldn't have," she admitted, watching the older woman for a smirk, a softening in those indigo eyes, anything that would show that Rosliand could pretend to understand.

"You should never flinch."

"Right, that too." Lily sighed again. She knew what Rosliand was trying to push her into saying, and that it was marginally better than having to deal with 'First-class scout Rosliand', she of the stunted dialogue and smart little comments. "I'll have to train harder. Will you be free tomorrow?"

The corners of Rosliand's lips quirked up in a vile parody of a smile, revealing another persona of hers that Lily wasn't too fond of, 'Sadistic trainer Rosliand.' "When your arm heals, of course," she said generously, as if she wasn't looking forward in punishing Lily for the transgression of flinching.

"O-of course." With a shudder, Lily looked down at her lap. She was going to regret her request tomorrow, she could feel it already. "I am very sorry for my mistake today."

"That's good." Reaching out, Rosliand began to stroke Lily's hair, which reminded Lily of times long ago, when Iris would comb her hair and pretend that she was just a little doll. "You need to lose that recklessness of yours. You're too important to die."

How many times have I heard that lecture before? Lily wondered. "I'm just like anyone else here. We all have important things to do here."

"Mm. You always argue that."

Feeling slight put-out, Lily had to stop herself from pouting. "I'm sorry if I'm predictable."

Rosliand laughed, drawing away from Lily, drawing into herself. "Not at all. Your obstinacy, outright inability to change your way of thinking, and fondness for deliberately forgetting important lessons are all very admirable traits of yours."

Momentarily stunned, Lily couldn't muster up a look of indignation when she said, "...Those...don't sound like admirable anything, Rosliand."

"You would be surprised," Rosliand said with a smile. She turned to the door before running a hand through her flyaway hair. "I'll have Tinae make you dinner. You shouldn't work that arm too much."

A retort about it not even being her dominant arm died in Lily's throat as she thought over what her friend had just said. "Rosliand, don't. Tinae has her own troubles right now."

Rosliand did not turn around. "I understand, but..."

"She is proud that Nikeah is qualified to go down that path. You know Tinae. No one has greater pride in her children than her. But..." Lily paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "Tinae doesn't think about things until they're right upon her, and now that Jorah is going to Edessa soon, even though Mina's pregnant again..."

"He doesn't want to--"

"But he has to," Lily interrupted. "I know. It's just like how Tinae doesn't want her daughter to become a pegasus knight trainee. Ten years old is young--"

"You wanted to be one yourself."

But Iris left when I was nine, Lily didn't say. Instead, she took a deep breath. "But that's me. In this case, Nikeah's just filling a quota. If she were an orphan it would be fine..."

Rosliand shrugged her shoulders. "The Union can't support us if we're not willing to support them." There was a heartbeat's pause between the two women before she continued with, "To live here means to be comfortable with loss and sacrifice. We both know that."

"It's not just a matter of Tinae and Nikeah, or Mina and Jorah. It's the entire village." Lily slumped her shoulders, feeling weary all of a sudden. "But you're right. Please ask Grandma Yunice if she can make something."

"Thank you." Rosliand glanced back, giving Lily a warm smile. "Rest well."

After Rosliand closed the door behind her, Lily fell back onto the bed, wincing as she jostled her injured arm. She laid there, staring at the ceiling, and tried not to think about anyone else other than herself. Ruefully, she smiled at the wood slants as she thought, If I'm not thinking about other people, or worrying about them, or caring for them, what am I here for?

The thought unsettled her. She couldn't imagine living only for herself, without any constraints, with her own wants and needs first in her mind. It struck her as being a singularly barren lifestyle, not having a stationary life with day-to-day procedures and knowing that others needed her and that she needed them as well, but right now, when she was feeling too powerless to help her friends, she almost liked the idea.

If only I could fly. If only I had real magic, the kind that can give everyone their dreams.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind was wide awake, sparking with thoughts and ideas and worries, lighting the way downward to the deeper regrets that weren't supposed to mean anything to her now.

I can't do anything for them. I can protect them, and I can cure them...but I can't make a balm to soothe Tinae's heart. I can make special teas to ensure that Mina won't have to worry, but that's...not really the problem, is it?

If I'm not doing something to help, I feel useless. And yet...I can't help them with this. I can only keep trying to make Ilia grow green, so that we don't have to sell our blood for food.

Opening her eyes, Lily sat up and looked around what had once been her parents' room. Bookcases lined the walls, only making room for the bed, its adjourning night stands, a small window and the door. There had to be something she could use in one of those books, something that would aid her research, even if her ancestors had done the same for centuries without anything to show for it.

We fight, so that our children can live to fight, so that their children can live to fight. We're stuck in this cycle that everyone hates but no one wants to change.

So, I'll break it. Somehow.

It was something to do.

-0-

Canas looked up from his tome when he heard the soft footfalls. "Rosliand?" he asked softly, rising from the couch as she approached. "Is Lily, ah, recovering from her injury?"

She looked at him, her face completely devoid of emotion. "Lily is fine," she answered slowly. "The amount of blood made the injury look worse than it really was."

"Oh..." He nearly sagged back onto the couch in relief. The anxiety and worry he had first experienced when Rosliand had appeared, urging along a Lily whose entire right upper sleeve had been dark with blood, had only escalated until the words of the tome seemed almost incomprehensible. "Thank you for assisting Lily," he said, his joy overriding any tinges of discomfort he felt when she looked at him.

"You're thanking me for doing my job?" Rosliand smiled, running her fingers through her short hair. "Do I seem so unreliable?"

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to, er, offend you..." he said, defaulting to his usual response.

Rosliand stared at him for an uncomfortably long period of time, which, he had to admit, was only for a moment with those identity-unraveling eyes. "I wasn't offended," she finally offered. Another rush of relief swept through him; he could not imagine what it would be like to be the person to offend her, but he could tell it would be a rather unpleasant experience. "Should I be?" she asked suddenly, and fear settled deep inside of him.

"No...not at all," he said, his eyes wide. "T-that is...er, I truly did not mean..." He stopped when she raised her hand.

"Mister Canas, it was a joke."

"...Oh," he responded, suddenly feeling very weary; the emotional extremes he had reached within the last hour or so were too much for him.

"All right," Rosliand said, her voice sounding oddly affected to his ears, though her face was blank. "Miss Lily needs her rest, but I know she won't listen to me. Please make sure she doesn't exert herself."

"I will try," he said, though the idea of stopping Lily from doing anything seemed rather impossible.

She nodded. "Good." With catlike footsteps, she made her way to the door before turning and giving him a look that he could never have hoped to decipher. "Miss Lily can be reckless. We've talked about this, do you remember?"

That day, that horrible day that he had pushed to the back of his mind, briefly resurfaced, making him feel somewhat ill. "I do recall it," he answered, somewhat more curt than he would have preferred to sound.

"Since you're an outsider, she doesn't have anything to prove to you. I think she needs that. Please watch over her for me. I'll come back tomorrow." With a small smile, she exited, leaving Canas confused.

I...understand that I am an outsider to the inhabitants of this village. Even that thought was unsettling to him, and he frowned as he stared down at the table, where anima literature was stacked into several unsteady piles. Lily had been answering his questions when Rosliand had arrived, alerting them to the presence of a small brigand company. But...even to Lily?

It should not have mattered, he knew. Lily was free to feel however she liked. But the thought that she held a dichotomy between him and the rest of the village that had not changed in ten months, in their friendship, made him feel rather...depressed. More than that.

It hurt, somehow.

Or perhaps Rosliand meant something else by it? He was inclined to accept that, if only because she seemed to converse on two separate levels. That, along with her ability to appear and depart at a moment's notice, rendered her as a copy of his mother in his mind, except that he was no longer intimidated by his mother. This led to other disturbing thoughts; Lily had told him of her encounter with his mother last month, and he still was unable to make sense of it. Why would she come all the way here for a simple treatment? Her hands had never seemed to bother her before.

Shaking his head slightly, he decided to go to his room and rest, if only because the thoughts that currently inhabited his mind were making him feel uneasy. When Lily recovered enough to do so, they would continue that fascinating discussion on the theories regarding the long-term effects of magic to the caster's physiology.

While he was walking down the hall that connected all the rooms, a suspicious noise alerted him to the ongoings in Lily's room. It was a dull thud, much like the spine of a hefty tome colliding onto a hardwood floor. Canas paused at his door when a similar noise occurred again. Curiosity overtook his sensibilities to leave well enough alone, just as it always did, and he cautiously approached her door. What could she be doing in there that would enable such abuse upon innocent tomes? he wondered, horrified at the mere thought of it.

The third noise--more of an assault on the ears than anything else--was much louder and caused him to wince in sympathy. Then he heard Lily's voice, normally evocative of a soothing (if not completely in-tune) melody, using words he never would have believed she knew. Just listening to her made him blush; he certainly did not know the meaning of that rather appalling-sounding utterance. Slowly, he knocked on the door. "L-Lily? Are you, er, all right?" This failed to get a response, which worried him. Lily was not the type to remain silent. "Lily, I'm opening the door," he warned.

The first thing he noticed about her room was that it was lined with bookcases. The second thing he noticed was that she was trying to scramble onto her feet, her face a splotchy reddish color indicative of...embarrassment? "Canas!" she blurted out, and he caught her kicking something under her bed with the side of her foot. Before he could inquire about that action, she sat on top of her bed and was now smiling very widely, her exuberance enhancing her delicate features. "What are you doing here? Did you need something?"

"No, I, erm...heard a noise and I wanted to see if you were, erm..."

"Still alive?"

"...Something akin to that, I suppose," he said, taken aback by the fact that she continued to hold her bright smile. "You are, ah, feeling well?"

"I've never felt better," she chirped, sounding more like a young girl with no worries than, well, Lily. Her smile faltered and she tilted her head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shook his head. "You seem so...er, elated, considering your injury."

Amid her laughter she waved a hand, as if to bid his words goodbye. "I'm not happy about this, of course," she said, gesturing to her wound. "Just...something good just happened, that's all."

"...If you say so," he responded, curious but unwilling to pry. Glancing around, something like awe fell upon him the longer he stared at all the tomes. The smell of the room was akin to a library's, musty and heavy, the scent of untold generations of knowledge so familiar to him that he almost felt as if he were eighteen again, standing in the main hall of Aquleia's grand library, unable to do more than to stare at the countless number of shelves just bursting with information on subjects he had never even considered before. "There are certainly a great number of resources here," he noted with a great deal of restraint. His mind was too busy cataloguing the entirety of one shelf to truly care what he was saying.

If anything, her smile returned in full force. "This is nearly a millennia's worth of magic-oriented works. I don't think they've been properly organized for a good century or so, but my ancestors have carefully combed through them in order to create a foundation for our dream." She closed her eyes and shrugged; Canas frowned a bit at this gesture, whatever it meant. "Well, we haven't actually set up much of a foundation yet, but we'll keep trying."

"I have nothing but the greatest faith in you," he said, smiling at the undercurrent of determination he always sensed whenever she spoke on this subject. He had heard the Elimineans talk about the power of faith, but just watching Lily made him believe in the power of the human will.

Her eyes opened at his words, and he felt rather odd when she stared at him. Her lips twitched, but there was no sound. Finally, she closed her eyes, a smile trembling along her pale lips. "That's very sweet of you to say, Canas," she said, her tone gentle. He felt warm inside, not only from her positive reaction, but as well as the fact that his words could elicit such a response.

"Here, come over here," she said, beckoning him. When he approached her, she patted the spot next to her. "Rosliand will be merciless at practice tomorrow, so I'm not allowed to do anything stressful today. Not even cooking! So I suppose I'll just stay in and get some rest."

"That is probably for the best," he commented, sitting down at the spot she designated for him. He looked at her just as she smiled up at him and realized with a start that she was a little too close for comfort. Nervous energy caused him to quickly look away; only the sight of tomes lined up in neat rows on the bookshelves could calm him down enough to engage in that time-honored tradition of small talk. "S-so, what do you practice with Rosliand?"

"Well, it's really not so much 'practice' as it is her throwing rocks at me while I try to dodge them." She laughed, causing him to glance at her in surprise; heat coursed through his face when he realized that he could not turn away. There was a need making itself apparent in his mind to remove himself to a more respectful distance, but then her eyes focused on him and he did nothing. "You don't have to look so shocked. It's a very practical exercise for me, considering that magic-users don't have the best constitution and defense," she admonished, but he was so close that he could see the remnants of her laughter sparkling in her eyes.

"Ah, right. I-I see. Of course th-that is a very, er, reasonable idea and...erm..." When her hand fell onto his shoulder, he simply gave up the notion of continuing the conversation and went very still instead. And yet, he could not tear his gaze away from her face, her pretty eyes, her teeth worrying ever so gently into her lower lip. Even as new and quite worrisome feelings knotted inside his stomach, he could not turn away.

"Canas, don't worry about me. Yes, it's punishment in a way, but she knows what she's doing. Probably too well, really." She laughed as she squeezed his shoulder; his mind was woefully blank on a possible action to take to do...something. Anything. "Look at you! You'd think I was incompetent or something!"

His mind caught onto a word and held on with all its might. "H-how...why would you think that?"

"Your expression, of course. You look like you've seen a spirit or something." She paused. "Actually, that'd be a good thing. We should commune again at least once before the festival next month." She removed her hand, but her eyes still captured his attention. "Here, I know something that would relax you." Deftly, she reached underneath the bed with her good arm and pulled out something that appeared to be a bound folder, filled with sheafs of paper.

When she opened it, his world was filled with color.

The first picture that caught his eye was a landscape portrait of the grounds around Ostia castle town. It was a very simple picture, yellow for the brick used for the town walls, green for the grass with the occasional brown line to indicate a tree, and a light blue for the sky. Canas got the impression that it was a clear summer day, bright and lively inside the walls. A depiction of an endless field of violets under the sun crowded another thin paper; the caption on the bottom left-hand corner read 'Reglay 974'. Brown and specks of green filled another piece of paper, and it was only when he noticed the red roof of a general store that he realized that the artist had visualized the scene from the sky.

"See, Kelial painted that one."

Canas raised his head from the last picture to look at Lily, not comprehending her statement. Then he remembered the man from months before, the one who made tea, who informed him that his speech patterns made him sound arrogant, and who engaged in banter with Lily. He would have never suspected that such a man had considerable talent as an artist. "I see," he murmured. "Then, did he create all of these pictures?"

Lily giggled. "Of course not. Some of the people I hold a steady correspondence with know artists, or are themselves artists, and they know how much I love pictures. It's just that Kelial's primary trade is art...he told me that he learned it from his father and dabbled in it while serving his conscription to Bern."

"Primary trade?" he inquired. "Do you mean in this village?"

"Mm-hm. We live so far north that it's too difficult to earn money, so we trade. If you don't have anything to trade, then you're a bit of a nonentity as far as we're concerned, since you're not getting involved with our system." Lily glanced up at him and smiled. "It's pretty fair, I think, but I do gain more out of it since I have a dual occupation."

No matter what others are saying, I can't help but approve.

Suddenly, Canas had an epiphany. He understood what Rosliand had meant a month before. It had confused him initially, this idea of being the cause of dissension. After all, he did not know the majority of the villagers, only a couple of Lily's friends. He was not involved in the day-to-day operations of Corinth.

Of course they did not care for him. Of course he was an outsider. He was not involved, period.

It disturbed him. He liked people; he greatly enjoyed the company of others. After all, human beings were living depositories of knowledge, and there were so many interesting tidbits to be learned from even children. Instead, he had cloistered himself in Lily's house, studying alongside her and neglecting the fact that there were more people than just Lily in the village. Now that he knew the consequences of his neglect, he was going to have to redeem himself to the villagers; the thought that they resented his stay did not sit easily within his mind.

However, he did not regret his actions of the last ten months. Though, there was a stray thought that was nagging at him.

Does Lily feel the same? Even as she acts with forthright kindness, does she truly think of me as just an outsider?

Canas refocused on the pictures when he heard Lily make a small noise. There was a picture of a smiling blonde, her hair flowing down to her waist. Her dress was an elaborate casing of white, pink, and lavender, the latter a perfect match for her eyes. She sat in a chair that seemed to be made from loops and curves of gold wire with a small maroon cushion; he truly hoped that the furniture was a product of the artist's mind, as its construction appeared far too dainty for a dress of that magnitude. "Do you have a preference for a style of picture?" he had to ask when he looked at her mostly bland expression.

"I only like landscape pictures," she answered with a scowl. "I love how free and open they look...the blue skies without clouds, open fields of grass..." She smiled, though to him it looked somewhat sad, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I would've loved to see them for myself, but these will do."

"Ah..." Canas had the feeling that he was about to say something particularly foolish, but that did not prevent him from speaking his mind. "Why can't you? It would be a long journey, but..." The words trickled to a stop as he noticed the rather interesting change in her expression. He was filled with the same sort of dismay he felt whenever he was walking from one village to another while storm clouds began to gather amid low rumblings of thunder.

"I can't," she said, turning her head away from him. "If I leave, who will make medicine? Who will protect them from the next bandit raid? It's easy for you to say since you can do whatever you like, but I..." Her shoulders seemed to shift in a shrug. "I'm not you."

Duty seems to be a burden, Canas thought as he watched Lily, no matter how proud she usually is about it. Not knowing what to do, he mimicked her earlier action and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, careful not to let his palm brush against the wrapping high on her arm. "Forgive me, I, ah...had a momentarily lapse of thought."

She turned to face him, an eyebrow arched. "You know, for a scholar, you don't think things through very often."

"Ah...well..."

"Oh, I forgive you, don't look at me like that." She smiled as she patted his hand. "When you look so lost, I don't know what to do."

"I see..." A little uncomfortable with all the physical contact, he shifted and accidentally tipped over the folder from his lap. The pictures went flying over the floor. "Oh!" he cried out in surprise, before frowning at what was now before him.

Attached to the inside cover of the folder was another picture, this one of two people--two girls, at that. One was unmistakably Lily as a child; the little girl had chin-length light green hair and eyes, the latter too large and solemn for a girl who did not even appear to be ten. The other girl was a head taller, with long, wavy hair as green as the bristle-like summer grass distinctive of Lycia; her eyes were a deep, dark blue. She was smiling widely, her hands on child-Lily's shoulders; Lily was not. And if Lily now was a very lovely woman, the girl who held onto her shoulders in the picture was nothing short of beautiful, even at such a young age.

"This is your elder sister," he realized aloud, tapping the corner of the picture before remembering her name. "Iris, correct?"

"Yes. She was thirteen there when Vanay painted that. I was eight."

Confused at Lily's sudden reticence, Canas tried to smile. "Do you have any other pictures of her?"

"Why would I?" Lily sounded nearly hostile now. "She left when she turned fourteen."

"Oh, er, I see." Knowing a potentially ugly situation when he saw one, he could not help but try to lighten the atmosphere, regardless of her rapidly degenerating mood. "Elder siblings are interesting to have, aren't they?" he asked in a light tone.

The look on Lily's face was unlike any he had ever seen on her before. Her eyes, normally so empathetic and capable of revealing quite a lot of emotion, were flat. In turn, her features seemed very drawn, as if the essence of life was being drawn from her. "Canas, this isn't--I'm sorry, but can you please leave?"

He hesitated, the realization that Lily was more than simply irritated or moody dawning on him. "Er, certainly." He glanced at the floor. "But I should assist you with--"

"Just leave it alone." She closed her eyes, tense lines appearing on her forehead. "Please."

Canas was unsure if it was simply her plea or the sudden hollow quality her expression had undertaken, but he could not help but acquiesce. Perhaps Rosliand was right. Perhaps Lily did view him as an outsider. Or maybe this was just a subject that Lily did not appreciate being broached. Whatever it was, it bothered him. It bothered him immensely as he stood just outside of her door, hoping to hear the rustling of paper, something to indicate that she was fine.

He did not leave for a long time.

-to be continued...-

Hah...it's been a really bad couple of weeks. I've been sick, stressed, and annoyed to the point of thinking that the concept of justifiable homicide might not be such a bad thing to apply in a few areas of my life. That being said, I am so sorry this chapter is late. Let me show you how sorry I am--chapter 11 will be out next Wednesday, March the 15th. I'm halfway done with it, so I'm feeling confident. After that, we will resume our biweekly schedule.

Thanks to anonymous reviewers Denaia, ceecee, and TheWatcherandReader. Once again, as much as I enjoy reviews, please don't force yourself.