"Always…"
IV. The Nursemaid's Tale
If I thought letting Millerna go was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life, it was only because I was in denial about what I would have to do after. Father needs to be told his youngest daughter has gone off on a personal quest of love and heroics and the one that ultimately let her do it was the only other daughter he has left. He needs to be told soon, too. Playing the idiot whenever Father asks me why she's not around isn't an act I wish to undertake, nor am I likely to be able to keep up. As guilty as I'm feeling, I wouldn't last long under one of his staring sessions. Besides, if Millerna's disappearance can be used to persuade him from withdrawing permission for Zaibach to use our harbor in their invasion of Freid, Father has to know about it before their fleet sets off.
Disclosure, though, is no longer viable as I reach the entrance to Father's office. Strategos Folken is already there, aware of Allen's escape on the previous day and spinning fabrications that will curtail any damage it might do to his country's plans of conquest. The man is soft-spoken, but his voice has a gravity that cuts to a person's core. This is not a voice you simply hear; you feel its texture and sense the solemn implications of what goes unsaid.
Literally, he talks of treason, of the credibility of a man who has tarnished the uniform that was supposed to mark him as one of his country's elite. Technical truths -- Allen did flee prison after being placed there by the king's orders -- but he goes beyond the nominal and into total fiction.
His story is imaginative, enough so that it would make a fine plot for a novel. In it, a rogue knight, tired of serving those he deems lesser than him, sees an opportunity to improve his station. Partnering with a king whose aggression against Zaibach cost him his own country, the knight seeks to pit allies against each other by having it appear as if one country has betrayed the other. In the ensuing chaos, the knight would oust the current rulers of Asturia and elevate himself to the newly vacated crown.
It is a suggestion the Strategos emphasizes, nothing more than one of many ways to explain to Freid why Allen is there and spreading rumors of attack. Asturia's king has the same option to ignore it as he did to say no to Zaibach's fleet making itself at home over our waters.
I'm grateful that I'm on the outside of the room and can't see Father. He compliments Folken on the strategy; his only hesitation is the plausibility of Freid believing what could be considered such an outlandish tale. A rustle of heavy leather must be the Strategos dismissing Father's concerns with a wave.
"I have taken care of that," he says. "All that is left for you to do is send word to Freid of Schezar's treasonous activities."
Father doesn't give any words of agreement. They are given on his behalf. The Strategos slides towards the door, towards me. Halting momentarily, he reminds Father to send his missive to Freid shortly. The fleet is preparing to leave as dawn breaks and for the plans to fall into place, Asturia's part must be played in a timely manner.
Dawn. A few hours to persuade Father to defy a country whose fleet is occupying the capital city and whose representative exudes coercion even in silence. I can't do it. Millerna's presence won't be rallying cry. It will be retribution for our complicity. Machinery is in motion that won't be stopped by the idealistic scheming of two princesses naïve in the pitiless tactics of war.
"Your majesty," murmurs the Strategos as he passes by. He's gone into the shadows without waiting for me to reply. I'm too panicked to frame one. My sister is running to a battleground and I watched her go. My father, shaken already by how deftly he was reduced to a puppet at the end of Zaibach's strings, is about to learn exactly how much that will cost him.
He fell ill after my mother's death. Upon Marlene's, he passed out and caused us all to worry about a relapse. Though he recovered soon enough, he did not revert back to his usual spirits until some time later. I don't want to imagine his reaction to the danger Millerna is facing. Will he blame himself and let guilt multiply his apprehension? Or will he blame me for not forcing her to stay?
Relief spreads across his face as I come into his office. He expected a return of the Strategos and more of his 'requests'. He thinks he can rest now that Zaibach's departure is within reach. Halfway through putting the Strategos' dictation on Allen to paper, he believes this to be the end of his ordeal.
"Father, I need to tell you something."
He doesn't look up, only coughs for me to go on. He's in a hurry to finish. With the press of the royal seal into hot wax, his task will be completed.
"Father, it's about Millerna."
He's retrieved a metal stamp from the top drawer of his desk. There are pale splatters of wax along the side from past impressions. Normally, Father uses whichever candle is burning on his desk as material for the seal, but none are lit.
This is not a confession to make to his back. I can't tell him his daughter has run away while he's trying to lift a candle from its holder on the wall. It's such a mundane thing -- the king rummaging for office supplies -- that I could find it amusing in any other circumstance.
"This is important, Father! Please listen to me!"
And then he knows. The words 'Millerna' and 'important' gel together into a variety of scenarios which all have a horrible fate for his youngest child as their base. Drops of wax driven from their home by my father's shaking hand fall to the floor. "Where is she, Eries?" he demands. "Where is she?!"
I suspect I am only repeating information that his fear figured out the moment I said Millerna's name. "She left not long ago, by boat and in the company of one skilled in survival." I assume the Moleman is, anyway. A person living in the swamps doesn't achieve an old age purely by luck. "She wanted to go… She was going to Freid."
It's out; it's been said. I must now prepare a defense of my decision or find a way to compensate for my failure as a protective sister by being a consoling daughter. Someone will be blamed for this and regardless of who it is, I am the one who will be tending the wounds.
"That bastard!" Father growls. It's prologue to a candle being hurled to the other side of the room. Small spots burn and harden on my left hand, but Father won't be calmed by the accidental injury. "She was going after him, wasn't she?! Trailing after Schezar like a love struck fool!"
"She wanted to warn Mahad," I say timidly, doubting whether her brother-in-law occupied a place other than the back of her mind. On more solid ground in regards to the truth, I add, "She was against letting Zaibach invade Freid."
"Do you think I'm for it?" he shouts. "You've played at politics long enough, Eries. Was your understanding that facile or do you think me that cold and calculating?"
"No, Father," I answer quickly. His face has paled considerably. Sweat that has little to do with the early summer heat soaks his brow. "I know you did what you had to do. Zaibach gave you no choice. Millerna knows it too."
"The only thing Millerna knows is Schezar false charms. If he hadn't gone to Freid, she wouldn't have stepped foot out of this palace!" He grabs the letter he composed and holds it tightly. "I lost one daughter to that country. Now it threatens to claim another. Almost as pitiless as that damned Caeli," he sneers at me.
Father has known and drawn conclusions about my friendship with Allen from its beginning. One of conclusions he came to was that Marlene could not have been involved with Allen because of his feelings for me. It was a belief I assumed he continued to hold. It's possible that he's referring to Millerna, but now is not the time to ask for clarification. Father has his scapegoat; giving him more reasons to hate Allen wouldn't be wise. I can almost hear the scratching of a pen as Father adds further embellishments to the Strategos' tale. Silence and a hasty retreat is virtually the only recourse.
Father pays no head to my departure. He's uttering curses under his breath -- curses about Zaibach and Allen and every god in Asturia's pantheon. The stillness in the hall allows for a last curse to reverberate softly:
"Gods… my daughter… why couldn't I… ?"
***
In the subsequent days, Father withdraws increasingly. His last public act before going into seclusion was to send two messengers out -- one to Freid to deliver the treason charges and another to Zaibach informing them that the Princess Millerna should be in Freid visiting family at the time of their fleet's arrival. I didn't get to read either message. I knew the content of the former from overhearing the conversation between Father and the Strategos. The second one bothered me. With the precarious position Zaibach has put us in, it couldn't have said more than 'Please don't hurt our princess. It would upset us terribly. So while you're annihilating our former ally, please be on the lookout for a girl in pink and take care not to violently bring about her death.' Meiden Fassa assured me later it was a sternly worded list of the repercussions facing Zaibach should she come to harm. He and I both knew that if we were truly capable of backing up those threats, we wouldn't be dealing with Zaibach in the first place.
Meiden is really all of Father that I've seen since that night. Other advisors and servants enter his private chambers, and they exit alone. I've ventured over there four times and was turned back on each occasion by a guard claiming Father was resting and shouldn't be disturbed. Stupid irony. He's so worried about one daughter that he forgets the other that's right in front of him.
I try scheduling a visit through Meiden but he too is elusive. The government must still run even if its ruler doesn't want to do it and someone must take up the slack. Between Meiden and Lord Millay, the council flows on without the king, without any Aston, offering input. I'd accuse the man of usurping power that isn't his, but if forced into it, I would admit that he's doing a decent job of it. The man knows how to run a business better than anyone in this country and after the chaos we've seen recently, shifting emphasis back to commerce is good for the morale of the people. Besides, if I wanted to lecture him, I would have to get in line behind his wife. The one time I did catch up to him, she was haranguing him about some scheme of his. I got the impression that she was vastly more upset by his undertaking of the scheme on principle rather than its apparent failure.
On the surface, it does appear that Asturia has returned to 'business as usual'. The markets are full again and the leviships kept away by Zaibach's fleet are coming in and out on a scale larger than ever. What only a few know though, is that some of those ships are carrying soldiers and equipment culled from the less strategic outposts throughout the land. Of the remaining eleven Caeli, all of the ones who won their appointments through prowess over good social connections have been summoned to Palas.
It's being done with the utmost subtlety, or a very sincere effort of subtlety. An extra soldier stationed here and there. A greater number of patrols on the streets of the city and on the palace grounds. They blend in slowly but surely. In influx of melef units is harder to ignore, but the people find a way. Normalcy has become a treasure and the people hoard over it, discounting anything that might threaten their feelings of security.
I find it much harder to ignore. With no real orders and no imminent attacks, the Caeli brought back to the capital spend their time among the three that were already here. I needed to bring in another table to accommodate the breakfasts that usually were just for me, Alucier, Revius and, on occasion, Seclas. I used to enjoy the languorous meals and personal talk. This morning, the heavier meat and egg dishes were gone before I had more than a few sips of my juice. No great loss, but I had to choke down a berry muffin amidst details of body parts being hacked off and used to decorate the landscape. Utrillo, one of the older knights that had come from the border of Cesario, was recounting an anecdote about Adama Ish and an unlucky troupe of marauders that had been so stupid as to attack the beastman's home village. Alucier's loyalty manifested in politely asking his senior to tone it down with a nod towards me, but that was the extent of it. Tales of one of the Swordsman of Gaea don't get told every day. At least they didn't before my coterie of Caeli bloated up to its current size.
Breakfast isn't the only time they're there. A cluster of men in blue and gold seems to form wherever I go. I make the joke to Alucier that I must be the most protected woman on Gaea and when he doesn't laugh, I get the point. Father isn't seeing me, but he is seeing to my safety.
There's no word of Millerna's. The trip to Freid is a long one but everyone should have arrived there by now. The messenger Father sent has returned. He addressed the council but the scant information I was able to wheedle out of Lord Poniard wasn't more than a confirmation that Freid had been told the outrageous story. There was no indication whether they believed the Strategos' lies or if Millerna and Allen were there. One absence was taken note of -- though it was addressed to the Duke of Freid, it was one of his assistants that took the message.
So Mahad was away. I examine that fact to determine what, if anything at all, it means. It's certainly not unheard of for a ruler to be away from the capital of his country but to stay away at a time of strife? Does that mean Allen's warning fell on deaf ears? Did Allen get there at all? Zaibach knew he was en route. One small leviship against an entire fleet barely qualifies as a fight. Did Millerna's journey come to a similar end? It worries me that there was no word on any Asturians there. One would think a Freidian would make some kind of remark to a representative of a country if any of his countrymen, prominent countrymen at that, were there. Conversely, Freid could be aware of Zaibach's activities and Mahad is away investigating them and readying his army.
I'll drive myself insane at this rate. The news will come when the news comes. And a property of bad news is that it always travels quickly.
***
Restless, nervous and incongruously… bored. I want something to do but I can't focus to do anything. I've read and reread the first paragraph of every book on the first two shelves of the bookcase in my bedroom. I've made use of my Caeli bodyguards by putting them on the opposite end of a chessboard and lost miserably to each one of them. Revius found some amusement in it, especially since he started making up his own rules four moves into the game and I didn't notice even though Alucier was yelling at him the entire match. Today, this fretful ennui reached a new low. I'm sitting on the edge of a window trying to get the attention of an owl.
Natal has been flying all over Palas since her Allen's departure. She comes around the palace several times a day, making rounds over the courtyard and keeping the rodent population down in the stables. She'll perch on different statues and posts, rest her wings and take off again. At first, I thought she was stalking prey, but then I noticed a pattern to her flights. Circles over the courtyard, up to the leviship dockyard and back -- a path tread by Allen when he brought her here. She's searching for her lost master, roving the skies in a relentless hunt for some sign of him but the traces have withered to vapor.
I can relate, little owl. I can relate.
Natal feels no bond with me though. A piercing whistle causes her to twist her head around in that uncanny way owls can but I'm not food or a nice shoulder to sit on, so I'm looking at the back of her head before three Caeli can ask me what I'm doing.
I clip an explanation out. "Natal, Allen's owl."
Alucier and Revius know her; Alucier was with me when I visited the Castelo and Natal was just a baby and Revius saw her when the Crusade came to Palas recently. Seclas looks at them inquisitively.
"He has a pet owl? Why would you have a pet owl? I didn't even know owls could be pets. I mean, what do you do with them? Sit, owl! Good boy! Here's a mouse for you!"
"Natal's a girl," Alucier clarifies.
"Okay, good girl," Seclas corrects himself. "Seriously though, they're not exactly cuddly creatures."
"You're more of a fluffy kitten guy, right?"
"Shut up, Revius."
"Will all of you shut up?" I snap. Three variations of 'but I wasn't even talking that much' are mumbled.
"I don't think whistling is going to work," Alucier says as he walks over to my window. "You're just annoying her. And us."
"Do you have a suggestion?"
That was the wrong question to ask. They have suggestions, lots of them, but absurdity is more important to them than practicality.
"Here, owlie, owlie. Here, girl."
"Offer her some food."
"Oh, yeah, Eries is going to stand there waving dead vermin around."
"Actually, it would probably attract her attention more if the vermin was alive."
"What difference would that make?"
"The movement would catch her eyes."
"It wouldn't be moving enough if she was waving it?"
"It would be the wrong kind of movement."
"And the owl would know this how?"
"Well, they're supposed to have sharp eyes and be intelligent…"
"So she'll deduce from the way the vermin flops around in Eries' hand that something's not right and she'll act accordingly."
"Why would an owl care anyway? Wouldn't her food coming pre-killed save her a step?"
"If the three of you don't stop talking right now," I snipe through clenched teeth, "I'm going down to the shopping district, buying the longest damned blond wig I can find and stuffing it on one of you to see if she'll fall for it."
Seclas, the one who knows me the least, proceeds as if I'm taking part in the joking. "You'll probably want to use Revius, you know my facial hair and Lucier's glasses might throw her off."
His colleagues are more aware. "Actually," Revius says significantly to Seclas, "She can't use either you or me because we need to go on duty RIGHT NOW."
"But --" Seclas starts, but Revius grabbing him by the lapel and hauling him out of the room stops all questions about his work schedule.
Alucier taps his foot in time to my resumed whistling. Louder whistles are met by louder tapping until Natal flies off, taking away my excuse to overlook him. "Does something concern you?" I finally ask.
"She's a pretty owl, Eries, but I don't think her snubbing you if sufficient reason for hollering at us. You've been on edge lately…"
"Is that surprising?" I cut in. "My sister's gone, my father might as well be since I haven't seen him since I broke that news to him and my nephew and brother-in-law, at any second if it hasn't happened already, are about to be acquainted with a large enemy fleet that we welcomed to our country. Oh, and I don't have any say in any of this because the position for which I worked so hard on the council is gone too."
"Isn't there something else you're leaving out?"
"Don't be sarcastic with me, not now."
But he isn't being sarcastic, not at all. "I just meant that with all that's going on -- and it's completely understandable that you would be upset by it -- you really haven't had the time to deal with another problem."
"I didn't list enough for you?"
"Eries," he says earnestly, "We've talked about Freid, we've talked about your sister and we've talked about your father and you never got that angry. We talk about an owl and that's what sets you off."
Why don't you hold up some road signs, Alucier? It's not completely and utterly clear where you're headed with this. Being so caustic towards him would only make him think I was proving the point for him though, and I don't care to hear any big-brotherly advise. "You're not going to waste the afternoon trying to psychoanalyze me, are you?"
"You're the one that has all those books on the subject. Can't blame me for picking one up now and then." He has the sense not to say directly what he thinks the problem is.
He'll get to it eventually though, via hints and allusions to Allen, so I might as well head him off in the bluntest way possible. "I got upset because Natal ignoring me just reinforces how ineffectual I've been lately. She's an interesting bird; that's why I wanted to get her attention. There is no deeper meaning to it. I don't think Allen's going to come back to me with all his emotional problems neatly resolved because I was nice to his owl. I am through with him. He is through with me. And I am through with this conversation."
"Fine. Whatever you say," Alucier says. "You should know the situation better than me, right? If you tell me that you're completely over Allen, then that's what you believe."
He's practically daring me to keep going by saying 'should' and 'believe' like that but I won't be goaded so childishly. To emphasize how tiresome I find this topic, I turn back towards the window. A breeze causes my hair to flair out and when I tuck the strands back behind my ear, I jostle one of my earcuffs loose.
While fixing it back in place, Alucier continues with his merry disbelief. "Yep, you are completely over him."
***
My aunt Newel was a relentlessly cheerful woman, the kind with a homily to cover any event and a smile so sincere, you were either cheered by it or pushed that much deeper into cynicism. Rough times seemed to inspire her the most. The rain brings rainbows. Behind the darkest clouds, sits the brightest sun. The weather was a reoccurring motif. She was not a blood relative, having married my father's brother, Nueva, and she did not ingratiate herself well with her Aston in-laws. Father thought she was downright daft.
Today, I don't know what to make of her.
In the blazing mid-afternoon sun, with the clear canals shimmering with crystals of light, a captain of one of Meiden Fassa's ships enters the palace and reports on what he saw on his last trade run to Godashim, the capital of Freid. The sheer importance of the news is enough to draw Father from his room and allow me to sit in on the council while the man speaks. The captain doesn't have the whole story; he listened to the war talk long enough to figure out this trade route wouldn't be profitable for some time to come and fled the ruined country as fast as his leviship would go. From what he saw, I understand his need to leave.
Freid still stands, its ruler does not. My brother is dead, struck down in the second and last confrontation with Zaibach forces. Ancient temples have been reduced to unstable piles of stone, the monks that populated them sent to the afterlife they spent so long contemplating. May it be the sanctuary their religious verses portrayed it as.
By some miracle, Chid is unharmed, but orphaned and facing the task of rebuilding under the onuses of grief and a foreign country's control. He's five years old; he shouldn't have to face traumas that could cripple an adult.
Father presses the captain for word on what concerns him the most -- Millerna. It is confirmed that she was in Freid, but now, mysteriously is not. Rumor has it that she fled in an Asturian ship to an unknown destination and with Zaibach not so very far behind.
The ship has to be the Crusade. Millerna is alive and with a crew that was able to escape Zaibach and our own security. It's good news, a relief, if only on a purely self-centered level. The worst did not come to pass. An unknown destination is just that, unknown. My sister could even be back over Asturian land at this moment.
Father, though, is taking a much less optimistic approach. "They're going after Millerna? Why would they go after her?"
"I'm not sure if they are, your highness," the captain back-peddles. He tries a positive spin. "But I heard that the ship had amnesty while in the borders of Freid."
"So the second it leaves those borders, Zaibach will go after her." Father will not be cajoled.
"Zaibach has no reason to pursue your daughter, Grava," Meiden says. "We cooperated with them to the full extent of their requests. They might just be making sure she returns here unharmed."
The man's made a fortune convincing people to believe every word he says, but Father's not in a buying mood. "If she were coming home, why didn't she let anyone know that? Why didn't she send any word to me?"
"From what I heard," the captain interjects, "they had to leave quickly. Probably just didn't have time to let every know where they were going."
He was trying to be helpful but the captain receives a displeased grunt as gratitude. "Why is she on the damned ship anyway? If Freid surrendered, she should have stayed there as an honored, protected guest." Father turns towards me as he answers his own question. "She had to stay with Schezar, didn't she? She just had to follow him!"
"Perhaps that could be to our benefit," Meiden says. It's strange that he's defending Allen, but it's clear that his goal is to calm Father down and a salesman will say whatever it takes to close a deal. "You know how ingrained the code of chivalry is to a Caeli. They'll take death over seeing harm done to a woman."
"Isn't it also part of the Caeli code to obey the king?" Father counters. "He broke that covenant without a second thought. It wasn't my command that he let Fanel and Escaflowne escape the country. I sure as hell didn't tell him to escape prison after putting him there!"
I feel I should say something. The rest of the council is too afraid to even try to enter the conversation and Meiden isn't meeting with his usual success. I know my father. I should be able to get through to him. "He was driven to do those things by his oath to protect Fanelia's king and his associates. I'm sure --"
"Fanel," Father interrupts with a snarl. "He's the one they're after. Millerna will just be caught in the crossfire. Damn it, Meiden! If you would have kept your hands off that weird girl, he never would have had the chance to escape!"
I don't know what he's talking about, but turning on his friend isn't a good sign. Meiden takes it for an alarm, too. "Calm down, Grava! For all we know, Millerna's half-way home."
Father won't listen. He won't argue any more. He's clutching his arms to his chest, shaking his head. I mistake it for anger, but a strangled cry says it's pain.
"Grava?"
"Father, are you all right?"
His knees give out. He falls to the floor. Councilmen scream for doctors. Meiden rushes to his side.
Dear, old Aunt Newel -- what a fool she was.
***
"I'm sorry, your majesty, but I can't let you in. King Aston needs his rest."
"Then it's a good thing I came here merely to see him instead of having him do laps around the courtyard."
The nurse takes an unsure step backward and looks for backup in the guard stationed outside of Father's door but he gives her no help. He can fend off attackers armed with swords; my full imperial attitude is an unfamiliar weapon. I shouldn't do this to the poor woman. She's the typical palace nurse -- middle-aged, with the appearance and demeanor of a kindly mouse -- and she's only performing her duty. But I haven't seen Father since he collapsed and getting status reports on his health from the handmaiden that spoke to the friend of the man who works as Meiden Fassa's assistant is no longer cutting it. All I've heard is 'he needs his rest' and this woman repeating that phrase just makes it seems like everyone else knows more than I do. I'm his daughter, the last member of the royal family still here and in complete possession of their faculties. No one should or can deny me this visit.
And I owe it to him. I stood by like an idiot while Father ranted about Millerna. When he fell, I still did nothing. I could call it shock to see my healthy father struck suddenly ill, but Meiden saw it coming. He cautioned Father to calm down. He told the doctors that Father hadn't been feeling well. He walked with the doctors to the infirmary and stayed there by all accounts until morning. The man I consider to be a conniving weasel acted with more compassion than I did. Then I wasted more time coming up with justifications for that. Meiden might have ulterior motives for watching over Father like he did, but I have no excuse for forgetting him.
The nurse relents enough to promise me she'll consult the doctor to see if it's all right. I wonder if Millerna would have had such trouble being allowed to see him. Father was always closer to her, even during the fights the two had been having over the past year. Of us girls, she was the baby, the last child to watch grow up and the last piece of Mother any of us had left. He cherished her, indulged her and, for better or for worse, made her headstrong enough to abandon her country to do what she thought was right.
I don't remember that same care, the same attention with me. The standard support was there. I had a home, clothes, food and every plaything a child could ask for. We took trips. I went places and met people the average commoner hasn't even heard of. He protected me from dangers real and perceived while letting take my own chances such as joining the council and refusing to marry. I know that he loved me, that he still loves me. I know it… but it comes down to how much I *feel* it.
Is that really his fault though? Before she died, Mother would tease me that I was six going on sixty because I was so serious and aloof. In fifteen years, I haven't changed all that much. I loved Allen for years and never said anything more revealing to him than 'I care about you.' By the time I worked up the courage for something more, it was too late to do anything with those emotions. It was the same with Millerna. When I realized how controlling I was of her, trying to be her mother instead of her sister and failing at both, she was gone in the next minute.
Sick or not, Father's still here. And, to be mordantly humorous, he's not going to be able to walk away from me for some time coming. I won't have to ask a nurse for permission to see him; I will be the nurse that lets others in. I owe us both that.
His room is dark. The curtains are drawn. No lamps are lit. The nurse cautions me to be quiet but it's so still in the room, the silence is more grating than noise could ever be. I half wonder if Father is even in here.
He is -- buried under covers and breathing laboriously in sleep. He doesn't look good. It's debatable how well he used to carry his age, but now it hangs off him, making him look feeble and infirm instead of seasoned and wise. It's troubling to see him like this.
The easy thing to do would be to leave. The nurse is uttering hushed 'tsks' at me for staying as long as I have. She was apparently right about Father needing his sleep. I haven't said anything yet and don't know what I would say if Father was awake. I feel like I'm wasting her time.
So I dismiss her and take a seat by the bed. Father's sleeping. I'll use that time to collect my thoughts. Leaving would also be the cowardly thing to do and to be brutally honest about it, I don't know how many more chances I'll get with Father.
He sleeps most of the afternoon. I skim some of the books he has out, pleasantly surprised that we have some reading material in common. I wouldn't have pegged my father as a fan of modern plays. Midway through the third act of Pataca's treatise on the plight of two peasants trying to find love and financial prosperity in modern Palas, Father stirs. He looks groggily at me, not sure if I'm really here just as I doubted his presence earlier.
"Why are you here, Eries?"
Not the greeting I expected, but at least he's talking and coherent. "I wanted to see for myself how you were doing."
"Good. Don't believe those damned doctors. And that nurse. She fusses over me as if I'm an invalid."
It's perversely heartening to see illness hasn't dampened his gruffness. Yet, I wasn't imaging his pallor. As in his dealings with Zaibach, Father won't outright admit a weakness that's obvious to a simpleton. "I'm glad you're feeling better, but you shouldn't overestimate yourself. You were rather upset about Millerna."
"Any news of her?" he asks, more brightly than he looks. "She should be home by now, shouldn't she?"
Yes, she should be. But she isn't. The doctors must be keeping this from Father to prevent a relapse. "Not yet, but you know how she is. She wouldn't be Millerna if she didn't arrive late and make a big entrance."
"This isn't a ball, Eries."
"No, but she wasn't particularly pleased with either of us when she left and this could just be her way of making us worry so we'll appreciate her more."
"You're ready with the excuses, Eries," he laughs sadly, "But do you really believe your little sister malicious enough to stay away like that? Though, she did run away in the first place…"
"Because she wanted to warn Mahad."
"Because she wanted to go after Schezar. Honestly, Eries, can you tell me that she wouldn't have gone if that bastard hadn't gone first? That if he was still sitting in that prison cell, Millerna wouldn't be right there fawning over him?"
I shouldn't argue with him in his condition. I shouldn't lie, either. "You're right, Father. But that doesn't necessarily mean she'll stay away because of him."
"Hmpf. Considering the way you girls have all made fools of yourselves over him, you can understand why I have a hard time believing that."
This again. "Father, Allen and I were only friends. We're not any longer. And Millerna just has a very large crush on him. Those feelings will pass."
"As quickly as yours did? You've been feeding me that 'friends' nonsense for years, Eries. I've watched you with him a hundred times. Getting you to look at a suitor was a massive accomplishment, yet you always made time for him. Couldn't take a minute to greet important dignitaries at a ball, but you could get in one last dance…"
"That's no longer the case," I say harshly. This penchant of the people close to me for dredging up my past with Allen has gone beyond bothersome. "Or haven't you observed that?"
"Oh, I've noticed. It happened right around the time Millerna became truly concerted in her pursuit of Schezar. I didn't think you were the jealous sort, but I don't know you as well as I would like to."
"Obviously not, or you would know that petty jealousy had nothing to do with the rift between the two of us." I was concerned about his burgeoning relationship with my sister, but not for the reason Father thinks. And if he won't admit any weakness in the face of being confined to bed, I don't see the need to admit how right he was about my feelings for Allen. Stubbornness does run in our family.
"No, no. I wouldn't think so. You did stand by him through that mess with Marlene, after all."
He's caught me off guard and he knows it. His shrewd stare stops me from pretending I haven't a single clue what he's talking about. I do ask him why he thinks something happened between Allen and Marlene.
"I'm not stupid, Eries. I've seen my grandson. I didn't think for a second that boy was Freidian but I let Schezar off the hook because I believed he was decent enough not to go after a woman whose little sister he was stringing along. My last trip to Freid put an end to that small bit of faith I put into him."
"Do I really have to use the phrase 'just friends' again?"
"Friends," he snorts. "Of course. Is that what happened, Eries? You wouldn't sleep with him so he went after Marlene instead?"
"Excuse me while I debate to whom that question is the most insulting."
"I'm not impugning you or Marlene. Or Millerna, for that matter. I place the blame squarely on that boy's shoulders. I just don't understand how three intelligent, poised young women could fall for such a…"
"Bastard?" I supply. "That is your pet name for him."
"He's trash, Eries. And I'm not talking about his status as a knight, his recent sojourn to Freid or that bizarre family of his. A good man doesn't go through three sisters and half the servant girls in the city."
"There's more to it than that." Gods, this is an odd turn. Father's more talkative than I've ever seen him (I'll have to ask that nurse what kind of medication they're giving him for pain and how damned high the dosage is) and his topic of choice is forcing me into defending Allen against the very things that have hurt me repeatedly. Well, he's not forcing me but I do feel compelled for some reason… "Can we talk about something else? Meiden's kept you informed about things, hasn't he?"
"Yes, yes. Everything's running smoothly. Very smoothly. Smoother than ever…"
"It bothers you that your country is doing well after a crisis situation?"
"It bothers me that it's doing it without me," he says. Forlorn is not a word associated much with my father, especially when it comes to the business of ruling. His approach as a ruler is to project a stern image and back it up with stolid words and decisive actions. Any personal concerns have to be intimated through careful analysis of the few hints that escape the tiny cracks in his persona as king. It's not terribly dissimilar to his style of parenting.
It is, therefore, a revelation on two levels.
And an even stranger turn than talking about Allen. I've given Father advice countless times when I served on the council. Having to give him a…'pep talk'…is a concept I had never conceived until this very second. The surrealism makes it hard to speak with a straight face. "If a solid foundation wasn't there, Meiden and the others wouldn't be doing as well as they are. They are maintaining a status quo, nothing more."
It must strike Father the same way. Amusedly, he says, "Have I fallen so low, I need you to pat me on the back?"
"It's not uncommon for families to support each other."
"Normal families, Eries. We're Astons."
It's the first time I've heard him make a joke that wasn't political or didn't involve bawdy reminiscing of his youth with Meiden Fassa. I like it far more than any of those. "We're not that bad, are we?"
"Can you recall any other time we've talked like this? And I highly doubt this would be taking place if it weren't for all that medicine making light-headed."
"I had suspicions about the effects of your medication myself," I chuckle. "Whatever the cause, it's not a bad thing for you to show vulnerability."
"That's an ironic statement coming from you."
I'm not offended -- he's simply telling the truth -- but Father feels the need to explain himself. "I meant it when I said earlier that I don't now you as well as I would like to. Most of that's my fault. I didn't know what to make of you girls after Therese died. I knew I couldn't replace your mother so I didn't bother being much of a father either. The time-consuming duties of a king make for such a good excuse, too. But --"
"Part of it is my fault." He's being so open now. Responding as the 'Ice Princess' wouldn't just be disrespectful, it could break the tenuous bond we've forged this evening. "I never exactly sought you out or made it easy to approach me. I don't know. I remember doing things as a family when Mother was alive, but afterwards… Marlene was only nine, but she had found enough of herself to get along and whatever was missing, she made up by taking care of Millerna. It wasn't like I was intentionally left out, but it made it easier to pull away."
"Ah, the middle child," he says ruefully. "The neglected child."
"No, not neglected. Just…overlooked now and then." Trying to cheer us both, I add, "What would you know of that sibling dynamic? It was just you and your brother, Nueva."
"Half-brother. That's why he's out of the running for the crown." He nods to reinforce this fact after I express shock. "My father wasn't the most loving man when he was around and when he wasn't around, my mother sought the company of men that were."
"I'm surprised that you can talk about it like that."
"Please, Eries. The things that go on in royal families… My mother was a good woman who deserved happiness and she wasn't getting it in her political marriage. Why do you think I haven't forced you into one?"
"What about Marlene?"
"I didn't force her," he swears. "I pushed her, pushed her hard, but only because I thought it was the only way she would accept the Duke. The man worshipped her."
"And the tract of land Freid ceded to us as part of the marriage arrangements?"
"Was what made me accept the Duke so readily. I don't deny I place a high priority on the welfare of Asturia, but it's not higher than you girls. If Mahad dal Freid had been an ass, I wouldn't have let him have Marlene even if he gave me his whole damn country. And if Marlene was still alive, that Zaibach Strategos would have been shown the door and then every soldier and melef in our army if he had come back."
Such resolve is taxing. He eases back into his bed, too tired to keep talking as we have. He does have one final thing to say, phrasing it as a command instead of a question because he still *is* Grava Aston. "You'll come back tomorrow."
"Of course, Father."
***
I go back the next day as a curious daughter eager to learn more about her father. The day after that, I go as a worried daughter hoping to distract her father. There has yet to be any news of Millerna.
Everyone knows what this likely means but we refuse to say it. When Father asks about her, we pass the responsibility on to someone else to answer. 'I think Meiden might have heard something. I'll have to check.' 'Eries received a letter today. I'll have to check.' None of us must check anything. If we had any information, even the tiniest scrap of gossip, we'd run straight to his room. Bad news would be better than absolute silence.
The wait takes a nasty toll on Father. He's arguing with his doctors over his medication and has fired several of them. He's belligerent towards Meiden and questions every decision he makes about governing the country. When I walk into his room, there's a brief flash of disappointment on his face that the wrong daughter has come to see him. I've increased the frequency of my visits but we talk less and less. The few doctors he still lets see him suggest sedatives. Approval is given immediately.
I wouldn't mind sneaking one of those pills myself. Sleep last night was nonexistent. Breakfast this morning went cold and uneaten while I beat my fork nervously against my plate. If we don't hear from Millerna today…
Meiden gets what would normally be good news, but in the circumstances, reinforces how bleak things are. A lookout reports a sighting of the flagship of his oldest son's fleet over the horizon -- Dryden come to claim a bride who has fallen off the face of Gaea. The old merchant puts it in the most positive light, claiming if the gods found a way to bring Dryden back in a fairly timely manner, surely they can accomplish the lesser miracle of bringing Millerna home safely.
The gods must be on holiday, for no miracles are performed today. I go with Meiden to the dock to greet his son but he isn't on the ship. In his place is his personal assistant, a rat beastman that cowers behind his financial ledgers when Meiden demands to know where his son is. Through much arm-waving and sporadically coherent dialogue, we glean three few precious facts: Millerna is alive, Millerna isn't coming back to Asturia in the near future, Millerna has joined with Fanelia's king and the crew of the Crusade on a search for Atlantis.
"Atlantis!?" Meiden screeches. "Have you lost your mind? Is this a joke of my son's? He's hiding on his ship, waiting to come out and laugh at me for falling for something so stupid!"
Mr. Rat insists it's not a joke. Dryden isn't hiding anywhere and neither is Millerna. The unfortunate man tries to do a disappearing act of his own into his robes because he can sense what's coming next. Someone has to tell this to my father. Two sets of beady eyes focus on me as a nomination.
I go ahead and stupidly volunteer. "I'll tell Father. Please, Mr. Rat, any more information you can give me will be greatly appreciated."
Off the hook, he replies enthusiastically. From his babbling, I pick out something about a Draconian king, an Ispano guymelef factory and the name of a country I desperately did not want to hear -- Zaibach.
***
Telling your father that his baby girl was off looking for a place that may or may not exist with an enemy fleet in close pursuit isn't a task any daughter should ever have to do. Father didn't speak. He didn't ask for me to clarify anything I said. He might have exhaled once during the ordeal. I would have preferred an angry outburst, some form of venting. The quiet internalizing Father did could not have been good for his health.
Gods, it can be atrocious to be right.
A page hunts down on my way to my room to retire for the night. "Your highness, you have to come quickly. It's your father…"
***
Author's Notes: I tried to make my Christmas deadline and I almost did. I came up with how many words I would have to write a day to make a 5000 word chapter by then and followed the guideline obediently. Of course, by the time I had 5000 words, I hadn't actually gotten to the crux of this chapter -- Eries and her father's bonding session. I had to include it and not just because the chapter takes its title from their interaction. Eries has been in such a funk through the first few chapters, she needed something to go right. Getting on better terms with her daddy before he went all blech struck me as a good idea. I like exploring the lesser used characters and finding different ways to interpret them and hardass Grava was an ideal subject for that sort of exploration.
Next up: In Love and the Brink of War. The funk lessens as Eries gets a letter from Milly and works through 'the Allen issue' Alucier. The funk deepens when a certain someone returns to Palas, a lot closer to a Mystic Moon girl than he was when he left.