A Sort of Homecoming

IV: Back Porch Confessional

Nightfall brought rumblings of thunder over Dunhaven. The storm and the cooler temperature that followed were a blessing. The parched crops would get some water and the participants in tomorrow's wedding wouldn't risk heat stroke from roasting in their formal attire. Alucier was especially grateful. He had changed out of his Caeli uniform the second he had had the chance and had not been looking forward to getting back into it. He would have sooner worn a beat up pair of coveralls to the wedding than the blue and the gold if the heat had stayed around.

The rain had actually made it a tad chilly outside, though not chilly enough to send Alucier back inside. Tempers had eased; questions about Marqesita had not. By staying outside, he ran the risk of his family turning to Revius for answers, but, at this point, he didn't really care. His side of the story could never compete with the kind of speculation and innuendo Revius could come up with so he saw no point in trying. He was taking the high road, a path which conveniently afforded him dignity and an escape.

In his childhood, one of his favorite escapes would be to sit for hours on the swing hanging from the back porch ceiling. The swaying motion and the view of the fields were a soothing antidote to the madness that came with having six sisters. When he had heard enough about boys, clothes and more boys, he'd stomp to the back door, loudly proclaim his displeasure with his noisy siblings and retreat to the swing with a slam of the door. His parents had humored him. His sisters had never even noticed.

After all these years, it was much the same – minus the stomping. He had been out on the porch, sprawled out on the swing, for a good hour without any disturbance. Alucier thought he might have the rest of the night to himself until Damise opened the back door and asked him if he was hiding again.

"I'm not hiding," he replied. "And what do you mean by 'again'?"

"You hid out here all the time when you were a kid," she said.

One sister had noticed, then. It figured it was Damise. She never really cared for girl talk herself. She probably had wished she had been out here with him all those times.

"Scoot over," she ordered.

Alucier complied, pulling himself up into a sitting position. The motion, along with Damise plopping down beside him, made the chains creak ominously. He looked up, half expecting bits of porch ceiling to come down on him, but everything was holding firm.

Damise followed his gaze. "Don't worry. I had this whole porch replaced last year. We could jump up and down on this swing and it would still hold."

He had abused the swing like that as a child but now, he was much bigger and much more knowledgeable about weights and supports to challenge Damise's claim. "I'll take your word for it."

"I'm glad somebody does. Mom and dad didn't want to replace it because they thought it still looked okay. And then they saw the estimate I got from the builders."

Alucier could picture how that conversation went. Frugality was next to godliness in Lucas' book. "I can only imagine how long that fight went on. No offense, but I'm a little shocked that you won."

"Damn straight I won. They let me take over the business and this house is owned by the business. Ergo, I can do whatever I want with it. You know, in theory."

"In theory," he echoed with a laugh. "They're never going to retire completely from the farm, are they?"

"Nope," Damise said. "I don't know if I want them to, either. Caustic after dinner fights aside, I do like working with them. Excuse me, I meant I like working with dad."

"Mother gives you a lot of credit for the way you've run things."

"Yeah," she admitted. "And that makes it even more annoying when she goes on the 'don't you really want to be a mommy?' routine. She knows I like my work. She knows I'm good at it. So why does she want me to quit? Does she really think I'd be happy letting my husband run everything while I chase after a bunch of kids?"

"Maybe she thinks your husband would chase after the kids while you ran the business."

"Because that type of thing happens all the time around here," Damise said drolly. "I overhear enough snotty comments about not knowing my place. Assuming I could find a man willing to agree to such an arrangement and assuming I will ever change my mind and actually want children, could you imagine the crap they'd say then?"

"Hmm," Alucier answered, though honestly, he didn't have to imagine anything. He remembered all the things he'd heard said about Eries being on the council. He'd heard things about Princess Millerna too, when it became known she was taking medical lessons. "But you don't care about what others think. It's what you want, right? That's what you'll do."

"That's what I am doing," she corrected him. "You don't think I'm harboring some sad wedding fantasy, do you? You know how many times I've turned down proposals."

Alucier thought of Damise's first suitor. He couldn't remember the boy's name, only that he was the son of an importer that bought grain from the family farm and that he had pursued Damise relentlessly from the first time he saw her. There had been flowers, gifts and more than a few bad poems. Damise had liked him and had been flattered by all the attention, but her reaction to his proposal (done in front of the entire Maerzen clan) had been to burst out into laughter. There weren't any flowers or gifts or poetry after that. There were, on the other hand, other men, most of whom wouldn't propose to a woman unless her parents were holding a bladed object to his throat. Damise kept Lucas and Hillaine mostly in the dark about these suitors, but had never been compelled to extend that benefit to Alucier. In truth, he had worried about this. He had wondered if Damise was so sour on marriage because of the class of men she normally associated with. And, deep down, there was a small but persistent belief that eventually Damise would meet the right guy and all of her objections would instantly fade away.

He was the one with the sad wedding fantasy.

He had never voiced these ideas to Damise. Years of wrangling with their mother had made her defensive to the point where any negative commentary on the subject was greeted with hostility, such as Hillaine's berry throwing admonition. Despite that fight though, Alucier finally spoke his mind. "I know you've had options, Damise. But did you ever really consider them? If Perfect Man showed up tomorrow, would you dismiss him outright or give him a chance?"

"I'd talk to him exactly long enough to determine if he had a Perfect Little Sister that I could set up with you," she retorted.

"Damise…"

"If there really is such a person as Perfect Man, he would know to give me space before I had to dismiss him."

"And after that?"

"I don't know," Damise groaned. "I can't say nothing will ever happen, but right now, I don't think anything needs to happen. I'm happy with what I do. More than happy, I'm proud of it too. You're spoiled living in Palas with your modern princesses and businesswomen. Out here, it's a big deal that I'm a woman doing what I'm doing. And a part of me does think getting married and settling down would undermine what I've accomplished. But there isn't a single part of me that wants to be doing something else. I thought you would understand that."

"I do," Alucier said, trying very hard to not attach a 'but'. He succeeded in the technical sense. "I just sort of understand where mother's coming from. Ten years from now, are you going to look around at all your family and friends, see what they have and think you're missing something?"

"If I ever feel like I'm missing something, I'll do what it takes to get it. And don't bother telling me I might get too old. A woman can adopt a child at any age. There will never be a dearth of single men, especially for a woman who owns a huge, highly profitable farm."

"Sounds like you have thought about it," Alucier accused playfully.

"Oh, yes, little brother, you've discovered my horrible secret," she said, playing along. "I've actually got a groom lined up and baby names all picked out. I'm only pretending not to because I know it annoys mother."

"Spite can be such a powerful motivator."

"And what would you know about that? Is that why you moved to fancy-schmancy Palas and refuse to bring home a daughter-in-law for mother?"

"Hey!" Alucier protested. "Here we were having a nice discussion about everything that's wrong with you and you had to go and ruin it by trying to twist it onto me."

"Aw, did I break up all your fun by pointing out a double standard? You know, you're lucky I'm not married, because then the full force of mother's nagging would be aimed squarely at you."

He hadn't thought about it like that before. He caught enough grief as it was and, he had to admit, Damise caught a lot more because she was older and because she still lived at home. If he were ever to become his mother's only target… "I'm sorry, Damise," he quickly apologized. "You're right. You should never, ever, ever get married and I was wrong to think differently. Of course, you would know best because you're so much wiser than I."

"Now you appreciate me," she said. "Buuuuuut…since you brought it up… Tell me more about your pretty Egzardian princess."

"You brought it up."

"That's not very descriptive."

Turnabout was supposed to be fair play. Damise had been open and frank with him; he owed her the same. That didn't stop Alucier from repeating a childhood habit of lightly punching her on the arm and calling her a meanie before he confessed. "Sita is an attractive, intriguing woman who lives far away from me in a big castle with her royal family and a not so small army. The rest of the army is stationed in various places all throughout Gaea."

It wasn't hard for Damise to read between those lines. "Well, at least your relatively high status as a Caeli gives you the intelligence to know better and the discipline to follow through. And it's still really impressive to us farm folk."

"Gee, thanks. That's so inspirational coming from someone who lives in town that puts on an annual cow festival."

"Don't mock Dairy Days. Raising cows is part of this family's bread and butter. Butter, anyway."

Alucier smiled at Damise's unintentional pun. Sometimes pieces of Lucas Maerzen showed up in his children at the oddest moments. "You're just defending them because you were the Dairy Princess one year." All of his sisters had had that particular honor. Damise was the only one he ever gave any flak for it.

"That was humiliating enough as it was," Damise said. "I don't need you bringing it up all the time."

"Oh, come on! You looked so regal with your cow scepter and wheat grain tiara," he teased.

"But not as regal as an Egzardian princess, right?"

The escalation of 'hostilities' had Alucier concluding that Damise was in fact, a big meanie while Damise rethought the stature of being a Caeli. There were twelve of them. How special can a person be if they're merely one out of twelve?

"One out of twelve out of the entire population of Asturia," he argued. "And the commander of the Caeli answers only to the king. And, technically, the council, but it's still very, very prestigious."

"But you're not the commander of the Caeli," Damise pointed out.

"I could be. The current commander, Lord Ramkin, is retiring. Somebody has to take over."

"Somebody being my ambitious little brother…"

"Why not?" he asked. The idea had been in his head since the moment Lord Ramkin announced he was hanging up his sword. As much as Alucier loved his current position as Princess Eries' personal guard, he felt somewhat limited by it. For one thing, he had to admit there was some truth behind the jokes his fellow knights occasionally made – he didn't really do anything. The regular palace guards were already sworn to protect the royal family with their lives. Eries, while more political than a typical princess, was also shrewd enough to avoid making any truly dangerous enemies. She didn't merit the special attention in that regard. So there he was, one of the celebrated Knights of the Heavens, and the only service he provided to his country was being a good friend to its elder princess – something he would always do, regardless of his orders.

During the one-day war with Zaibach, he had done something more. The need for skilled soldiers on the field had outweighed the need for Eries to retain a private guard, so he had volunteered for an assignment near the front lines. He had expected to put up a valiant fight for his country, but he hadn't any idea the troop under his command would wind up foiling a sneak attack that would have left the Asturian army vulnerable. His reputation had grown that day, to the point where his name was as recognizable as his uniform. It was commanding the same level of respect, too.

But the new found fame was nothing compared to how he felt about the acts that garnered it. He had been out there, in the middle of the battle, putting the oaths he had taken when he joined the Order into action. Alucier had, by no means, any desire to fight for the sake of fighting. It was fighting for the sake of his country that had given him a sense of fulfillment. Eries could take care of herself. Alucier wanted to be able to take care of those not as fortunate.

"Why not…" Damise echoed. Looking at her little brother lost in thought, she realized how important it was to him. There would be no jokes, no teasing. Whether he got the post of not, Damise knew he had to try for it. "Damn if I can think of a reason. You always said the older Caeli were a bunch of rich guys that bought their positions and none of the younger ones sound like they've could handle all the political crap that would come with the job. You've learned enough from Princess Eries that it wouldn't be any problem for you."

"You know you're my favorite sister, don't you?" Alucier asked with a warm laugh. He hadn't intentionally fished for encouragement, but hearing it, particularly from a woman who had pursued her own dream so fearlessly, was helping stamp out the little bits of lingering doubt.

"Yeah, I know. I try not to brag about it to the others. It would wound them so."

"I thought you were being supportive now."

"Alucier," she said with great import, "I think you would make the best commander the Caeli have seen in how ever long they've been around. Books would be written about the 'Maerzen technique' of leadership. Statues would be carved in your honor. Jichia himself will appear at your side one day to proclaim you his superior and ask that all of his followers begin worshipping you instead."

"You can stop being supportive now."

"On your first day of godhood, do you think you could set up a regular schedule of rain during the night and sun during the day to help me out with the farm?"

"Oh, you know, that kind of wrecks my plans. I was going to send you a plague of insects."

"Ah, see, right there," Damise said. "You're thinking ahead. How many of those other Caeli are plotting revenge on their big sisters this far in advance? You've got the job sewn up."

He hoped it would be that simple. Maybe it would be. Damise's biased opinion wouldn't hold much sway over the king and royal council when it came time to make the decision. Eries' biased opinion, on the other hand, would. Connections alone wouldn't be enough, though. The recent trend in nominees to the Order had been merit over favoritism, mostly owing to Lord Ramkin's insistence. He had wanted the name Caeli to be restored to its original grandeur instead of a title up for auction to the best connected bidder. The last six, Alucier included, had earned their position by proving their skills; Lord Ramkin would make sure his successor damned well deserved the job.

So really, he thought, it's down to us last six Caeli. He could eliminate Allen. He was too busy with his newly returned sister and too far out of King Aston's favor. Seclas hadn't expressed much interest in the promotion beyond wondering how big of a raise he'd get. Management never really was his forte. Geffrid had a good deal of experience handling troops as the head of the training camp at Fort Thedrick, but hated leaving his home there to come to Palas. He wasn't likely to want the position either. The eldest of the six, Fortanen, wasn't much liked by his fellow knights and Lord Ramkin knew it.

So really, Alucier thought again, it's down to me… and Revius. That was problematic for several reasons, some of them pretty messy. Revius had served as the captain of the palace guards since becoming a Caeli. Moreover, he had actually done the job well. That looked more impressive on a résumé than hanging out with a princess. Which, too, was something Revius had done. Alucier believed Eries would recommend him over Revius but that wasn't a position he wanted to put her in.

Alucier winced as he thought of the potential rivalry between his friend-roommate-fellow knight.

Damise was quick to pick up on his worsening mood. "Problem?" she asked.

"I just realized who my closest competitor is going to be."

"As if anybody could compete with you."

"I think Revius will give it a good try."

"Revius? Oh… That… That isn't good," Damise concluded.

"I don't know. It could be fun making all our friends chose sides."

"You're sure he wants it?"

"He sounded like he wanted to after we heard about Lord Ramkin's retirement."

"He sounded like?" Damise punched Alucier in the arm a lot harder than he had hit her. She didn't call him a meanie, just an idiot. "Revius wants a lot of things. That doesn't mean he's serious about them. He's your friend; don't you know him better than that? So instead of getting yourself in a knot about this, why don't you ask him straight out? Tell him how serious you are."

"Oh sure, be all logical and rational," he said sourly. He knew she was right. Worse, he knew she was right before she had even said anything. He was used to being the one doling out the sagely advice. "I guess I should talk to him sooner than later. Think mom is through prying him for information on Marqesita?"

"He was through giving out information a half hour ago," Damise snorted. "Dad mentioned the bachelor party in town and Revius convinced him that they had to go."

"Revius has our father?"

Alucier and Damise shared a frightened look. Lucas normally shied away from gatherings falling into the 'wild' category. He had an alcohol tolerance level similar to his son's (which was to say zero) and the inhibitions of an old nun. Unfortunately, the exploitation of the former could lead to the utter destruction of the latter. A few sips of the ale the farmhands distilled from the leftovers of the barley crops had once produced a round of singing and dancing during a town meeting so bawdy that Hillaine, to this day, would only refer to it as 'The Incident'. Adding Revius, who thought getting people to 'loosen up' was a noble pursuit, to the equation almost guaranteed that Hillaine would have to start referring to multiple incidents.

"Now. I have to speak to Revius now," Alucier said.

Damise watched him race off the porch and towards the stables. All the while, a song about a stable boy and his horse loving girlfriend played back in her head. Her father's voice had gone deeply out of tune at the chorus, but that was the price he had paid to sing louder than the outraged screaming of Widow Contin and the ladies of her quilting circle.