~* The Lion and The Lotus *~
By WithPatienceComesPeace
*~o~*
Chapter 2
Gaspard
"You must be the new professor," said the new woman in the Audience Chamber. "So young…" She had been in the middle of conversing with Randolph, Catherine and Shamir, but she turned her full attention to Parvati when she came out of the office.
Parvati did a double-take. She had come out of Seteth's office thinking she and Randolph could make a get-away…squirrel away into her new apartment, investigate what in the world he meant about those towels, and maybe cuuuuddleeeee and kiss-kiiiiiiiss…and maybe have some snuuuggleeeees…since Randolph was not meant be here long. It was how she usually processed what was happening in the world around her when she was with him, snuggled safe in his arms…all squishyyyy…and waaaaarm…Parvati being the squishy part, of course.
But the moment she stepped out of Seteth's office, she knew it would not be so. That was because, right in the middle of the trio of knights, was none other than —
The woman approached her. "Professor Parvati, I am — "
"The Divine Songstress!" Parvati squeaked. She began to hyperventilate.
Parvati's home base of Enbarr Imperial was not far from the Mittelfrank Opera Company. In fact, Parvati's her graduate year dorms had been even closer. How many times had she heard that towering voice swoop up like a twirling swallow, and plummet like a hawk, at the water fountain outside her old abode? It was customary for a senior member to bring the newest, freshest voices to practice out there, on summer days before it got hot. Even in the rain. Parvati heard it was to ease their nerves, to become accustomed to performing. What a way to live! When even practice…was performance!
"Miss — " — Parvati couldn't breathe — " — Casagranda!" She sank into a gracious bow. "You of all people need no introduction."
Manuela's eyes sparkled. "I like her already."
Parvati clasped her hands together, stars in her eyes. "Oh! Gods! You are everything I imagined…"
"Get used to it quickly, my dear," Manuela said, linking an arm with her. "It sounds like these knights want to get in a little sparring. Why don't I give you a tour of the campus? The training grounds are uncouth! And stinky."
"I did not agree to this," cut in Randolph.
"That's because he is afraid." Catherine crossed her arms.
Randolph gave Catherine a side-eye, but Parvati silenced his protests. "You think I don't know how much you'd regret not sparring with Catherine after coming all the way here? Besides," she gave Manuela's linked arm a squeeze, "I am now in the presence of the Divine Songstress. I am busy, and you are dismissed."
Randolph grinned. He saw the way Parvati's eyes linger from his eyes to his lips. It made his heart speed. His heart was still racing as he and Catherine watched the professors walk away. Shamir walked after them.
"Wait, she's not coming with us?" asked Catherine. "Let me guess: she doesn't want to watch me wallop you."
Randolph shook his head. "It does not please her. She is a pacifist."
"A pacifist? Then what is she doing with you?"
He gave a mysterious smile. "She had to make an exception."
Catherine raised a brow. "Wow, okay, hot shot. Let's see what you've got in you!"
Whatever Randolph did have in him, Catherine walloped him nonetheless. She left Randolph hobbling gingerly to Parvati's apartment. The stairs had not been a fun experience, nor the look on Parvati's face when she saw him.
"I thought you two were spaaaaarriiiiing!" Parvati wailed when she saw him. She suddenly left him standing alone in her apartment and magically came back with Manuela, who turned out to not only be her neighbor, but also this year's Head Physician. As Manuela examined him and began healing incantations, Parvati kept fretting and flittering around unopened boxes and suitcases.
Manuela perked a brow at him, unbeknownst to him, a certain amount of jealous. The look of hostility was not one he had anticipated. She said, "You sure you two are going to make it?"
Randolph blinked. He was getting that feeling of icy-hot where one of his ribs had broken, and the bleeding on his arm had stopped, and he had all of the expected nausea that came with white magic, but…were there going to be side effects? He'd never been healed by someone who looked like she hated him before.
"What about his cheek and his face?" asked Parvati, pointing over Manuela's shoulder.
Manuela batted her hand away, growling, "Yes yes yes!"
Parvati glanced at Manuela, startled. She shut her trap.
Twenty minutes later, Manuela had gone back into her room.
Parvati locked the door, listened for Manuela's footsteps to fade, waited to hear the physician's door close…then went back to whining again. "I thought you two were spaaaarriiiing."
"We were," Randolph said, bending forward to touch his toes and verify his ribs were okay. He still had a hundred percent of the bruises and winced. He was fine now, but he was going to be sore and colorful tomorrow.
"Let's get you cleaned up," insisted Parvati.
They left a trail of Randolph's armor across the living room floor and down the hall, wherever he had let Parvati "help" him out of it. The trail led to the bathroom, where he leaned back against the corner of the sink as he let Parvati press a clean, wet undershirt against his rib cage. She surveyed the series of bruises there. She did this thing where she furrowed her brows and sucked in her lips and dabbed at the blood smears with extreme concentration, and by the Goddess did Randolph want to just gather her into his arms and kiss her stupid adorable face off.
But he didn't, because then she would know that he was perfectly fine and then she'd get mad and she wouldn't be making the stupid face.
What was there to say? He enjoyed the attention.
"Ease my pain, Parvati," he said. "I will feel better if you kiss me here." She did. "And here. And here. And here. And also here."
She treated him to light little kisses wherever he pointed — his heart, his shoulder, the top of his hand, his eyebrow — but she frowned when he pointed to his lips.
"No, you have to wash your face," she said. His cheek and lips were bloody.
Randolph smiled, kissed her nose — "Ewww!" — and turned to the sink and washed up. There was a new crescent mark on his right cheek in the mirror. He made eye contact with Parvati's worried face in the reflection.
"Is that what you're going to look like for the rest of the year?" he asked.
She said, "What?"
"Your students are going to be sent to battles monthly. At least."
Again, she was making that stupid face.
"So what did Manuela say?" he asked.
"Oh, you know," said Parvati. "Going over lesson plans. Hanneman is coming back tomorrow. Some students come early too. Orientation's in four days. By the gods! Lots to do!"
But she was excited. He could see it.
Parvati shoved Randolph out of the way of the sink by nudging him aside playfully with her hips. She ran the shirt in the water, soaping out the blood and dirt. "We're going to teach the Black Eagles, of course, naturally, if we have a choice. That's where all the money's at. And the more valuable connections. Did you know they have a sauna here?"
He nodded absently, his eyes landing on her right wrist. Shamir's Dagdan hold had left its own bruises. All the warmth that had been blooming and expanding extravagantly in his heart suddenly shriveled into cold.
He almost didn't have this with Parvati. This moment. That stupid face. Her gabbling away right now. Those little kisses. All that whining and mewling. The lines on her face that she was bound to have in only a couple of years, what with all of her worrying.
He loved it. He loved all of it. He loved her.
And he almost lost everything today.
He was standing there, not five feet away from her. Five feet! When Shamir caught Parvati, when she was holding — he could hardly allow himself to think of it again, a dagger! — at Parvati's throat…he couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything! All he could do in that moment, was wait…and beg.
What was the point of being an Imperial Commander if he couldn't save someone five feet away from him? What was — all of his training, all of his skill, all of his strength, if it meant nothing in that moment? If it meant nothing in the only moment that mattered?
That feeling again. He swallowed. He never wanted that feeling. Catherine may have left him humbled, but Shamir reminded him what it meant to be helpless again.
"What?" said Parvati, throwing the shirt over the shower rod to dry. "Why are you so quiet?"
"What did Shamir say?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"Didn't Shamir go with you?" asked Randolph, suddenly remembering.
Parvati frowned at him. "No." She was clearly not a fan of the idea either.
That made Randolph feel better. Shamir was a Knight of Seiros. No doubt she had other obligations. She was busy.
But what if she was following her? wondered a part of him. Parvati had been utterly starstruck. With Manuela at her side, she could have been besieged by a horde of flying buffalo and she wouldn't have noticed.
Why would Shamir want to follow Parvati? responded another voice inside his head. The voice of reason.
The voice of reason wasn't winning today. He followed her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where she flopped onto the bed and turned over and made space for him.
"I have a bad feeling," he said.
Parvati looked unimpressed. "You always have bad feelings before you go."
This was true. He was leaving her again, tomorrow. It turned out Randolph was also a worry-wart.
He said, "You have to be vigilant."
"Randolph, this is a high school."
"A school full of royals."
Parvati rolled her eyes. "You are also noble."
He said, "Barely. It barely even means anything."
"And that is how I like it," she said, stuffing a pillow under her head. "The best nobles are the ones who don't make it anything." She beckoned him to lie down beside her.
"I haven't showered yet," he said. He could see she was getting impatient, so he bathed quick and nestled into the blankets beside her. She looked up from her book.
"You're reading that one again?" he said, picking the trashy romance novel out from her clutches.
"Shut up. It's gets me through when I don't have you," she said.
"But you have me now."
"Then it's basic comfort. You stress-train; I stress-read. My comfort novel." She cuddled into his arms, breathing in his scent and crooning, "Mmmm. So waaaaarm! You. Smell. So. Good!"
He sank a kiss into the flesh of her palm and held her, his satisfaction complete. These were the moments to live for: Parvati frowning at his hair dripping onto her pillow and making it wet, then all the giggles and the cuddles and the kisses. She smiled at him. Then her smile faded, and he could see that she was thinking of something else.
"What is it?" he said.
She looked at him. "There is something fishy," she said, "and it's not fish."
Randolph waited for more. He was accustomed to waiting out dumb lines like these. (He also was accustomed to waiting for dumb lines like these…all those weeks, all those months spent away from her.) Parvati told him about the builders, builders who had taken on a contract from Garreg Mach, but then canceled without warning.
"Who has the gall to do that?" she asked. "To cancel on Garreg Mach!"
"They didn't even start building the Museum yet?" Randolph asked, incredulous.
"No…"
Randolph frowned. "Well, tomorrow afternoon, we'll be done moving in the artifacts."
Parvati nodded. "I need to see how they are being stored."
"It might be a while…" he said.
The two of them looked at each other. Over time, Parvati's lips were twitching. She could not keep a straight face or handle the silence. She declared: "Okay! No. More. Talking!"
Randolph grinned. "Not. A. Word."
And they proceeded to do things that cannot be documented for readers under eighteen years old.
The next morning, the Viceroy called over to Parvati.
Parvati was startled. She and Randolph had just entered the dining hall, and it just occurred to her that she might see her boss here every morning. And every lunch. And every dinner. Oh phooey. Her university in Adrestia allowed her to choose different cafeterias to keep her private life private. Now she led Randolph down the aisles between the long rows of wooden tables.
They stopped on the other side of the table from him. Seated at the bench beside him, a green-haired girl wiped crumbs from a half-eaten croissant off of her face, then yawned politely, covering her mouth with a hand.
Seteth bid the two good morning, and announced to Parvati that Hanneman had arrived.
"Hanneman?" Parvati's eyes lit up. "Here? Where?"
The Viceroy notified her that he had just gone to the bathroom and would be back momentarily.
Parvati looked down at the unattended little plate on the table right in front of her. Black coffee and a cookie. "Is this Hanneman's?"
The little girl nodded, eyeing Parvati and Randolph with interest.
A sly grin came over Parvati's face. She leaned backwards to look past Randolph at the dining hall's entrance. The bathrooms were in the Entrance Hall. Seeing the coast was clear — no Hanneman — Parvati picked up the cookie, took a bite, and put it back on the tray.
"What are you doing?" Randolph cried out.
Seteth and the girl stared at the moon-shaped cookie, both of them open-mouthed.
"Oh, this chocolate is good," said Parvati, licking her finger. She gave the girl a conspiratorial wink and started pulling Randolph towards the breakfast bar at the front, saying, "Let's go let's go let's go!"
But she was too late.
"Parvati! There you are!" came Hanneman's voice.
He was coming from the breakfast bar. There must have been more restrooms back there somewhere! Parvati slid the plate with his bitten-into cookie out of view behind her and presented perfect composure as he approached.
"Listen, you must see to my updated thesis. What I sent you last month was rubbish. Absolute rubbish!" Then he paused, pushing up his monocle as he noted the man behind her. "This must be him."
Parvati nodded fervently, pulling Randolph forward beside her.
Randolph bowed. "Randolph von Bergliez, Commander of the Fifth Division." He held out his hand.
Hanneman shook it with a nod. "Hanneman von Essar, though I do not partake in that house anymore. Father of Crestology."
Parvati jumped forward and snuggled under Hanneman's arm and hugging him sideways. "Hanneman!" she squealed. She had quite forgotten her boss and grinned at Randolph.
"Hmm, hmm," said Hanneman absently, patting her back as he stared at Randolph. He shook himself out of reverie. "Pardon. I just want to make sure that you're — "
"Good for Parvati?" asked Randolph. "I completely understand. I have a little sister."
Hanneman nodded. "I have a little sister too. Had. Actually, not just that. Parvati's mother would never forgive me if I let something happen to her."
Parvati squished him, beaming.
"Then I can feel secure about leaving her in your hands," Randolph said with a smile.
"Oh! Certainly! That you can do!"
In the next moment of silence, the two men came to an agreement. Then Hanneman looked at Parvati cradled under his arm. "Well! Go get some breakfast. I will be here."
She said, "Okay!" As she and her lovey-love walked away, the three at the table overheard Parvati saying, "You looked so cool, Randolph!"
Randolph grumbled back, "You were supposed to be hugging me!"
Hanneman chuckled and sat down to his coffee. He looked at his cookie. "This was Parvati, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was! I was quite astonished!" said the girl, unable to contain herself anymore. "It seems you know her, Professor?"
"Yes, Flayn. She is the daughter of an old colleague," said Hanneman, sipping his drink.
Seteth nudged his daughter to finish her food.
"I've known her since she was this big." Hanneman held a hand out just over the edge of the table, then shook his head in disbelief. "I invited her parents to come to my office, the first time I met her. And in the middle of it all, she'd slipped away and found my lunch. She climbed up my chair and desk to eat my cookie."
"Ah," said Seteth, now understanding. He looked over to the breakfast bar. Parvati was heaping things onto a plate Randolph was holding. He looked uncomfortable.
"She called them 'mookies'!" Hanneman reminisced. "That's why I call her 'Mookie'." He looked at Seteth. "And now to think, now, she is my colleague!"
Flayn giggled. She reached over to Seteth's plate and took a bite of his cookie.
She was about to put it back when Seteth said, "Flayn! That's bad manners!"
"But a professor did it!"
"That does not make it less bad!"
"Wow, what a cutie!" gushed Parvati, just returning with Randolph. She was looking at Seteth. "Is this your daughter?"
Seteth cleared his throat. "This is my sister," he said, sticking to the story to protect their Nabatean heritage. He couldn't have her — and certainly not Hanneman — find out he and Flayn were actually St. Cichol and St. Cethleann! It was bad enough that he and Flayn had to constantly evade that stupid Crest Analyzer.
Flayn stuck her hand out to the professor for a hand shake.
"Oh!" Parvati made a production of setting down the two coffees and exaggeratedly cleared her throat. "Professor Parvati, at your service, Miss…?"
"Flayn!" said Flayn. She shook hands with Parvati, then passed her hand over to Randolph and made him shake as well. She beamed at them, declaring, "You are my first modern hand shakes."
Parvati bowed her head somberly. "'Twas an honor."
Randolph asked, "Modern?"
Flayn deflected. "I'm going to call you Mookie!" she announced.
Parvati glanced at Hanneman, startled.
"Flayn!" said Seteth. "This is a professor! You must show her respect!"
Flayn scowled at her father. "Professor Mookie, then!"
That gave Parvati a laugh. "All right, Flayn, but it's our little secret." She leaned forward over the table. "You can't tell this to anyone, especially not the students."
Flayn nodded fervently. They had a secret!
Then Parvati turned to Hanneman. "You too, Professor!" The voice she'd used for Flayn had vaporized. "How am I going to be taken seriously if you tell this story in front of my boss?"
"Oh," said Hanneman, glancing at Seteth.
The name is not the reason I wouldn't take you seriously today, thought Seteth…though it was a pretty cute name…
"Ah! Randolph! Parvati!" Manuela was strolling their way.
"Who is that?" asked Hanneman, turning to Parvati.
Seteth prepared to introduce her. Then he heard what Manuela said next:
"You two were awfully rowdy last night. Did you have fun?"
Randolph spit coffee out of his mouth. Parvati and Hanneman looked decidedly at their breakfast plates, not meeting each other's eyes. Flayn looked at their expressions.
"And now we go, Flayn," said Seteth, standing up.
"But I'm not finished — "
"No. We have to go. Now. I'll hold your croissant."
And with that, Seteth made the first of many Manuela-escapes. It was going to be a skill he would hone quickly, and sharpen like a blade.
Parvati didn't really want to go to the Cathedral with Manuela, just like she didn't really want to saw her pinky toe off with a butter knife. But while Randolph declared he needed to check on the artifacts and Hanneman said he was going back to his office to settle in, Parvati could not conjure a single reason why she couldn't join Manuela on her trip to the Cathedral.
It might have had something to do with what Manuela had implied in front of Seteth. Her boss. Or maybe, Parvati was beyond mortified by the fact that Hanneman was there. She couldn't decide. Which is why, for the rest of the day, Parvati was broken. She'd learned a valuable lesson this morning:
Manuela was a wild card. You never knew what Manuela might say.
Now they walked across the Great Bridge, the Divine Songstress dragging the ghost of Parvati's dignity by the arm into the holy space.
Parvati forgot how grand this place was. The voice of the choir rang up into the lofty heights, then swirled back down into every inch of space here, carrying with it a hum of prayers so thick she could breathing them. She felt like any words she might want to say to Manuela would be buoyed up like a bird on a thermal lift, to the stained glass Goddess upon the ceiling. A benevolent Sothis marveled down, the light of the world passing down through her in yellows and blues and greens.
"I wonder if I can join the choir here," said Manuela.
Parvati clasped her hands and bowed her head to the Goddess. "Why not? They would be honored if you could join. You could even lead it, perhaps."
"If I did, would you join?"
That broke Parvati out of her prayer. She said, "You don't want me singing."
"Pish posh! I could teach you if you would like."
Luckily for Parvati, something else drew Manuela's attention before Parvati had to tell her she wouldn't like.
"That's the uniform!" said the opera diva.
She was pointing to a boy who had his head bowed in prayer. He was mouthing words into his clasped hands, half his ash-gray hair looking blue in the light of the stained glass Goddess.
"He must be a student!" said Manuela. "Let's go talk to him!" She started heading his way.
Parvati froze. Was it too late to hide? If Manuela turned around, she would definitely call to her. But if Parvati ditched her now, she would never hear the end of that either. Parvati sighed and slinked after the click of Manuela's heels.
Parvati picked out the words "Ashe?" and "Blue Lions!" by the time she joined them. The boy directed Parvati a curious look, and gave a smile that reached his green eyes and pushed out his freckled cheeks.
"You may have once taught Christophe," he was saying to Manuela. "He is my older brother. He was at the Officer's Academy ten years ago."
Manuela blinked at him. "Do I look old enough to have been teaching here ten years ago?"
The poor boy started. He said, "N-No?"
"Well, good, because I'm not," Manuela insisted. "This is Professor Parvati."
Ashe bowed. "Hi, Professor Parvati! I'm Ashe. Ubert. From House Gaspard."
Gaspard! thought Parvati. It took her to a time in the past.
The card in her hand: Gaspard, Christophe. The smell of tobacco. A blackboard with a hundred cards on it. Names of people, places. Yellow yarn connecting them. Terms like: Duscur, Tragedy; Lambert, Assassination. It was all a math proof, a puzzle. It was something she would solve. But the tobacco smoke was piling thick. It was making her cough. She turned to snap at that grad student. "Open the window, Christophe!"
Christophe. That was the name of that math graduate student. Not her assistant. Her advisor's assistant. That was why she remembered the card that said Gaspard, Christophe on it. They had the same name.
Not just that. There was another reason. There was something different about this card. This card had something on it that none of the other cards had: Date of Execution.
Date of Execution. Christophe Gaspard was the only Faerghusi personage to have been executed…for his involvement in the Tragedy.
The Tragedy of Duscur. The thing that killed her parents.
Someone else called out to Ashe now. A low voice, a gruff one. Parvati snapped back into the real world. She felt the hair on her arms rise up. She was coming to realize…that she was about to meet with someone else who would need no introduction. His name had been on her cards before.
She turned to face him.
Gaspard, Lonato.
