Horsebow M. 29

Duke Riegan,

My arrival back at the Gloucester estate was uneventful, which is the very least I could pray for. My father has refrained from speaking to me. This is similar to my expectations on this matter. I am grateful for the military assistance provided, and have sent the soldiers in question to our border with Ordelia, where they are now establishing a front. Ordelia men are nervous on the matter, but Lady Ordelia has sent her own soldiers, respectively, to join our forces, leaving only a minimal force in her own territory. She intends to surrender the moment Imperial forces set foot in the county, and I understand her rationale fully. My father has been in counsel with her personally for a week now.

Though I expected the management of the estate and its resources to be left in my care upon my return this autumn, it seems that this was not what my father had in mind. I am in command of our military forces. While I have some hesitation on these matters– owing both to my youth and my lack of physicality– my experience with tactics will likely be sufficient. I do not expect the Imperial masterminds to be sent after Leicester while the Kingdom is at hand. Those hounds shall likely be loosed once we are surrounded from both the north and south. Marianne writes of the Faerghus border being crossed by refugees. Gloucester is the bread basket of Leicester; I informed her that we would provide. Recently, I hired Leonie's help. She informed me that there are a number of Imperial military forces that have slipped into the area around Goneril. It is possible that they are preparing to eventually lure out and weaken the Almyran border. Do not inform Hilda of this; I believe it may be better, in fact, to contact Almyran military powers on this matter.

For personal matters, I am well, and Lysithea, who has been writing to me faithfully, also is well and has recovered fully from the spring's difficulties. My mother has returned to Dagda. It was a painful farewell, yet she has assured me that one day, she will return, and that I am free to visit her. Leonie and I have grown closer now that we are similarly aligned; she informed me that Raphael and Ignatz are both working together in the eastern part of the country. I have not heard from Hilda but I am not surprised by this. Marianne tells me that Hilda has been in Derdriu proceeding with her high society escapades, which I am sure is from some angle, important. I hope you are well. Derdriu may not agree with you, but at the very least, there is a Riegan there.

Commander Lorenz Hellman Gloucester

RWM 19

Lorenz,

This will be brief. Apologies in advance. I'm glad things are working out in Ordelia. I've been losing sleep over the affairs to the north so it's good to know I can rely on that good ol' Gloucester gumption to keep people fed.

I'm returning to Almyra. Domestic politics have gotten to be a handful. My mother has informed me that there are some concerns about my father and I intend to sort these matters out personally. Family politics are not to be trifled with. I will return and write you again as soon as I can. For the time being the staff at the manor is holding my letters. If something is urgent, use an orange seal with a red mark, and it shall be sent to me post-haste in Almyra.

Duke Riegan

Lorenz was surprised the letter was so short. He hadn't seen Claude in months and this was the extent of his update. He had initially written to him at the start of fall, and there was such an extensive delay between Claude's response and his initial letter? Not an ounce of it was personal, either, he noticed. Claude!

"Sir?" Evras glanced over Lorenz's shoulder. His childhood friend and retainer and now adjutant in battle, he noticed that Lorenz was absorbed in the letter.

"Duke Riegan is taking a sabbatical for foreign relations and diplomatic reasons. He will not be available for contact in the coming months." Lorenz folded up the letter and creased it. "Any word of the demonic beast?"

"There's some signs of bloodshed in the woods, but we can't find the advance guard." Evras fidgeted nervously. "I hope you don't mind me saying it, sir, but I hate those things."

Two of them had been seen the last week in Ordelia territory, and Lorenz out of both personal interest and obligation, had brought out a few of his men, including two of the mages in the employ of his father, to track them. It had been hard bringing both of them down; though Lorenz had seen them before, his soldiers hadn't. The current one they were tracking was large, and alone, and very deep into Gloucester territory, though they had begun tracking it at the Bridge of Myrddin.

"It may have taken out the advance." Lorenz shifted uncomfortably as he began putting on the quilted layers beneath his armor. It was necessary in the cold, and it was just as much protection from the cold air as it was from teeth and claws. "We must, of course, acknowledge that possibility."

"I don't like it," said Evras, "and I don't like thinking about it. I can't believe the Church made you fight those things." He shuddered. "Where do they find them."

Lorenz had a very solid idea, and no interest in expanding on that thought. "Who knows." He outstretched his arm and Evras began fitting him into the armor. It was a gift. A beautiful violet set of plate armor, with a white enamel rose. His father had given it to him.

"We ought to get to it." Evras took the letter and tucked it into Lorenz's bag, and both of them strode out to the field, getting on their horses. Lorenz's beloved Edgar, the chestnut stallion who he had ridden since he was twelve, was not in need of armor for this matter; once they met the beast he did not expect that he would stay on horseback. It made the low piercing blows and enchantments more difficult.

"Do you think," began Lorenz, "that this shall end well?"

"I haven't thought things would end well in a long time," said Evras with a smile as he mounted up. "It means when they do, I am pleasantly surprised."

"Well, I suppose that's one approach. And you've always been the more clever of the both of us." He shot a smile over his shoulder at Evras. Lorenz had no helmet to tuck his hair into with him. He ought to start considering these things. Nobody would go for a head shot against a child on a practice field. But he was not a child and this was not practice.

The better half of the morning was spent tracking the few indicators left by the creature. They took a brief break. Seven of his father's men. One mage– the other had been in the advance. That was all. He wondered if it was enough. At midday they took a brief break. Lorenz habitually kept beverages on his person, sealed in a thermal flask– and sat on the tree root, sipping a bergamot blend as if it was high teatime. Then they were off again.

The western part of Gloucester was dominated by forests– the east was where the wheat and vegetables and orchards and pastures were, the west was the woodlands. He had always been afraid of them as a child. A memory returned to him of hunting with his father for the first time, riding through the woods while dogs nipped at the heels of the too-big horse his father had put him onto. In a way, this was a sick parallel, he thought. The reality of his life, mingling in a rhyme. Alder, elm, beech, and oak dominated the woods, alternating textures that dizzied the mind and blurred the eye.

That was another thing.

Lately Lorenz's vision had been getting worse. It was likely the same as his father's, he thought. When his father had been fourteen his vision had gone sour, and he had been spectacled ever since. But there was, in Lorenz's eyes, some pain of difficulty and strain, and he had not yet gotten the time to fit himself for glasses. It was still good enough to hit targets, but it was growing difficult to read.

"Mount back up," Lorenz instructed them after about half an hour. His back was stiff and achey from riding, but far be it from him to complain; he had volunteered to make the journey to see the demonic beasts.

As he was getting back onto the horse, there came a crashing through the brush, and a loud roar. Lorenz knew what it was before it was upon them, but only just, and it pounced the encampment.

The demonic beast.

Its teeth were the size of daggers, rotten and crescent shaped, reeking as saliva slipped through the gaps and gums. It was all mouth, thought Lorenz in horror, nearly all mouth, and something felt wrong inside of him. Something! His men began shooting, and one brave soldier with an axe started headfirst and hewed his weapon into its leg, yelling in panic as it did not come loose, nor did it phase it.

"Celine," he called to the mage, an older brusque woman, "you and I must use magic to hold it off."

"Do you have Thyrsus?" she asked in a frenzy.

"We don't need it," he called over his shoulder. "Ready Sagittae. Everyone else, when the spell is unleashed, use lances to pierce its hide."

"Yes sir!" managed one of the men, and Lorenz glanced at Celine.

"It's standing on its hind legs. Good holy goddess," the woman groaned, clearly dumbstruck. "May she protect us, may victory be swift, may she spare our lives–"

"Now!"

The violet aura of the spell surrounded his hand, the pins-and-needles feeling penetrating all the way down to the bones within as he let it fly. Celine was only half a second behind him, and the lances came out swiftly. It shrieked in pain, and black, steaming-hot blood began trickling from it.

"It's not going down!" cried one of the men, and Lorenz sighed and pulled out his own spear.

He hated to use it. It was ostentatiously large and terribly sharp, and gruesome to boot. He wouldn't make any headway by the back, so Lorenz slid beneath the beast, and thrust upward in a single strike. It cried out, and Lorenz realized his mistake– he would nearly be crushed. The blood sprayed onto him, a horrific geyser of gore, and it smelled– oh, goddess, did it smell. A bit of it got into his mouth and he nearly gagged, before he saw something.

He was glowing. Golden. Something was wrong. He felt sick. And it was not just from demonic blood in his mouth. Something was wrong with the blood. It was reacting to him, like a chemical, like a magnet, like it was activating his crest–

Golden. The beast had Riegan blood in it. Lorenz wanted to vomit. They were the same, him and this beast. Something had made it. As it began to crumple, he rolled out from beneath it, jerking his lance out. He hadn't been injured seriously, if at all– and the Crest had likely had some part in that. He did, in fact, vomit. The very moment he was upright, hand pressed against the dying beast, he retched.

Evras patted him on the shoulder before Lorenz realized he was trembling. "Lorenz."

"I'm alri-" He convulsed again, clutching his stomach as bile came up. Evras supported him by the waist, and sighed.

"Celine is staying to investigate. I'm taking you home."

Lorenz couldn't protest any further. It wasn't like he was dying to stay here. And now that he could see that the thing had Riegan blood, he knew now that this was going to trigger a lapse in his health. Any time he felt the Riegan crest activate, it at the very least put him in a poor state of mind, if not setting his health on a spiral.

"Right," he said, and Evras helped him back onto his horse once he was done shaking. He slowly sipped water for a moment, steading his breathing even as his hands shook on the reins.

"They're nasty creatures," said Evras after an hour. "The crest you have reacted to it."

"They're demonic," spat Lorenz, still livid. They were demonic, he reminded himself, and he wondered what he could say of himself for that. "I'm sure there is some degree of profanity involved with their very existence."

"Do you think the Empire plans to use them for– for soldiers?"

"I have already seen such things as that. The Imperial army has many of them," said Lorenz, squinting out over the horizon. "We are but eight miles from the estate?"

"Mhm." Evras tossed him the canteen.

"Thank you," said Lorenz.

The return was late in the evening. The sun had gone down when they brought in the horses, and Evras supported Lorenz on the way back to his quarters. Through the library. Then the back promenade corridor with the vast open windows. Lorenz crashed like a teetering tree back onto his bed before the door was even closed, and Evras flopped down beside him.

"You want me to draw you a bath?"

"It would be nice." Lorenz sighed. Things had been different between them since Garreg Mach. Perhaps it was that his perspective had changed. But the problem was now, that he had a hard time asking things from Evras or treating him like his servant– which Evras was. He was paid, hired, and contracted to act as Lorenz's assistant and take care of things that were below someone of Lorenz's station. But it felt wrong. Evras was just as educated, if not more educated, in some capacity, than Leonie and Raphael. His parents had ensured that. He was handy with magic on occasion. By all means, Evras was the same as people who Lorenz considered his equals. And that should have made them equals. And it was revealing things that Lorenz was learning about himself. For many years he had maintained relationships with women out of kindness and future marital prospects, bereft of desire, which had nothing to do with it. He had assumed this feeling was common.

He had not assumed that wanting to kiss his dear friend was common. And the more he thought about it the more he realized Evras was not the first man he had felt that way about, laying side by side on their backs, eye to eye.

"I'll help," Lorenz volunteered as Evras stood.

"You aren't feeling well." Evras waved his hand. "If you want to help you should stay out of my way." Evras activated the hot tap's enchantment into the tub in the bathroom, door open and candle lit. Luxuriant and fancy pumps like those in manor houses and Garreg Mach, and a few cities, worked on magic, and the water was heated that way too– so all Evras had to do was use a smidge of natural magic to turn them on.

"Thank you." Lorenz took off his riding jacket and garb, down to his dressing shirt and undergarments, and folded them in a neat stack so that when the laundry maids came, it wasn't a disaster.

Evras used to do that before the monastery.

"You think it's the beginning of another bad spell?" asked Evras candidly. The last time Evras had been there for one, they had barely been parted. Evras had stayed and read with him nearly the whole time, citing the fact that he had nothing else to do even as he laughed and joked the whole time.

"I'm due." Lorenz shrugged. "It's been nearly a year now."

"What even happened at the monastery?" mumbled Evras. "You come back and everything is different."

"You don't want to know." Lorenz used the post of his canopy bed for support as he stood, wincing a bit as his leg twitched. "Evras, this is going to be a ridiculous question. You knew about my father being– well, I suppose himself, for lack of a better word?"

"You always talked about it." Evras shrugged and handed Lorenz a change of nightclothes. "That he had tenuous connections of questionable legality and never treated you right."

"Why did you not– do anything, I suppose?" He winced. "The older staff members, either. If everyone knew about my father's actions and the way he treated me, why was nothing done of it?"

Evras frowned, sitting on the edge of the windowsill and glancing outside. "Do you know what men like your father, do with the horses that bite when they are fed?"

"We don't have any," said Lorenz with a tilt of his head.

"Exactly." Evras folded his arms, and sighed. "Having this job is the reason my little sister got an apprenticeship. It's the reason I have somewhere to live, and an education and three meals a day. I'm not going to bite."

There was a hardness in the way Evras said it, that seemed less like the loyal friend that Lorenz had always thought of him as. It jerked him to reality. The hard, cold reality– that Evras was paid for his companionship, was a servant, and that it was wrong for Lorenz to even start to want him when Evras would never be in a position to deny him. Any feeling Lorenz had for him, would never be right to do a thing about. He would take the friendship, with a wall between them, before he would ever do anything to harm him.

"I wonder, what do you think you would want to do with your life?" asked Lorenz. "If this wasn't your job now, I mean."

Evras snorted. "Since when were you worried about that?"

"The monastery was– a good place for introspection." Lorenz carded a hand through his own hair, silky strands running through his fingers while he made sure there was nothing stuck in it, no blood or twigs or gore from the beast.

"I dunno." Evras shrugged. "This is about all I could ask for. It's stable." He stretched and sat down. "I guess I wish I had more time to play the lute or something. I like music."

"Do something with it," urged Lorenz. "Ah, take the rest of the evening off. I'll take care of things myself."

Evras looked at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Get rest. Spend some time to yourself."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" said Evras, walking to the door.

"You shall," said Lorenz with a nod. Evras closed the door quietly, and that meant it was time to tuck in.

He wasn't hungry, he had no need to ask for something to eat. He sunk into the hot water, washed his hair, redressed, and drained the tub, leaning against the sink while the last trickle of water spiraled down the drain. The tiles, painted in lilacs and reds, had such beautiful patterns.

That was how he noticed that the world was starting to spin. The tile patterns were moving. The world was getting dark. There was a sensation of falling, of vertigo– and Lorenz only dully, processing in the back of his mind, felt himself hit the ground.

He woke to his father kneeling beside him on the floor. He had to have fallen on his front, face first, but he laid on his back now. "Father," he muttered, trying to sit up but finding he barely had the strength to lift his head.

"You fainted. I heard it downstairs." He held up a hand, calmly stilling him. "I've sent for Celine and Andrea already–"

"Aunt Andrea?" Lorenz winced. She was a good healer, but it came with the downside of being Andrea.

"She'll be here by morning."

Lorenz sighed. It was freezing on the floor. His head was still pounding, his heart fluttering, he felt just as if he had only slain the demonic beast a second ago.

"I didn't want to move you until you woke."

Lorenz nodded. "I think I can walk." He pulled himself with some strain to his feet, and slid a bit on the tile. His father caught him by the arm and helped him. His father was not the sort of man Lorenz considered muscular or strong, but he couldn't help but realize in spite of Lorenz's advantage in height, his father's arms had twice the strength of his. Perhaps it was that he himself was weak, and shaking, but it felt as though he was paper, compared to most people. Lysithea had once said something of spun sugar for bones, and he was thinking of that then.

He leaned heavily against the bedpost as soon as it was near, pulling away from his father, and carefully laying down with a sigh, staring up at the canopy.

His father just stood there.

"You can go to bed," said Lorenz bitterly.

"I don't think leaving you alone would be responsible of me, as a parent." He pulled up one of the armchairs and sat down.

Lorenz had a lot to say about that. How many times had his dear father steered ten miles clear of his bedside when he was unwell? What words of consolation were Gloucester men don't fall apart? Where was the reassurance that it was going to secure him the Riegan seat of power? Where was the bluster, the panache that he remembered from his teenage years? Why, once when Lorenz had a spell when they were surveying a few farms, his father had even boasted that his son's constitution was from all the so-called magic he had learned. Where was it? Was this all there was left of Matthias Simon Gloucester? Some middle aged man who could not bring himself to apologize?

"Let me be." Lorenz rolled over to his side, facing away from his father.

He was nearly asleep, when he felt his father drape another blanket over him and tuck it in around his shoulders.