Chapter 2—Ivan

Wil had a very arrogant smile on his face after his most recent shot. Of course, Feodor just considered the shot lucky. Wil had the most annoying luck when he practiced with Feodor. Feodor was not a knight, but he was still a very skilled archer. Feodor shot far more accurately and precisely than Wil, but he had much weaker wrists, resulting in his tiring out quicker. Wil continued staring at his friend and rival until Feodor took up his bow and arrow again and prepared to shoot. It was a difficult shot, even for someone as accurate as Feodor, but he pulled back the string as usual and heard the whistle of the arrow.

Feodor had closed his eyes, but he heard Wil clicking his tongue, indicating a miss. Feodor sighed and looked over at Wil.

"Yet again, stamina beats precision," Wil said.

"Yet again, you just got lucky," Feodor responded. "In fact, you probably weren't aiming for that mouse in the first place."

"Don't get upset just because I beat you for the tenth time in a row."

"So you have the best streak. Until that streak, our score was nineteen to one with three draws. Besides, I'm still ahead of you. When my wrist starts holding out longer, you'll never have that arrogant smile again."

"When your wrist lasts longer, I'll visit my old friends in Pherae."

"If they're still your friends after you just up and left like that."

"Sure they are. My little adventure with Dan is something I'll never forget, not to mention I haven't seen Rebecca in what seems like a dragon's life. I hope she's not too worried about me."

"And you insist that you don't love her. You've told me so much about her that she might as well already be your wife."

"That's enough," Wil said. "Or shall I bring up that embarrassing situation with Serra?"

"Not funny. Why she would flirt with me in the first place is beyond even my father; he thinks someone like that should not be a cleric."

"Well, that's Serra for you. She's certainly cute, but she's the most annoying girl you'll ever meet."

"There is no doubt about that. She's sworn herself to chastity, but she went right on ahead trying to get me to fall for her, only to tell me she's a cleric once I tell her how I feel. That would have just about ruined my opinion of girls had it not been for the fact that Xenia's my sister."

"Well, speaking of Serra, I wonder how Erk is holding up. I wouldn't be surprised if the poor guy deserted halfway."

"I still think you exaggerated your part in that whole campaign. In fact, I'm even beginning to wonder if Rebecca and Dan are real people. Somehow, I can't picture you working a ballista and saving the entire group, or leaving a town in Pherae, coming across a clever tactician and Lady Lyndis, and winding up a knight of Caelin."

"Well, I did."

"Hah. Well, judging by the sun, I should be getting back home; Mother always starts on dinner around this time."

"So soon?"

"Unlike you, Wil, I'm not a night person. Also, we didn't bring any lanterns. Therefore, we should be getting back to town."

"'Therefore,'" Wil said, quoting Feodor. "You been spending too much time with your father again?"

"I would hardly call it too much time."

"Well, anyhow, can I have dinner with you? I don't feel like Fafner's cooking tonight."

"I've nothing against it."

The dinner table had five chairs set up, but a sixth one was taken to it once Feodor's mother noticed that Wil was having dinner with them as well. Feodor went on upstairs to put away his bow and arrows. Right before starting up the spiral staircase, he noticed his father playing chess with a young man who looked about Xenia's age. He concluded that the man was the other guest and decided to learn his name after putting away his equipment. Xenia happened to pass by Feodor on the stairs, a small amount of sweat on her forehead, implying that she had done a little work in the garden earlier.

Feodor and Xenia shared a room, and anyone who knew them well enough could tell which side was used the most by each person. On one side was Feodor's bed with the blankets neat, but with too much on one side and a small part of the mattress showing on the other. A bookcase was on Xenia's side of the room, and while there were some books that Feodor read (with a shaman for a father, illiteracy would not do—even for someone with no interest in magic), most of the books belonged to Xenia. Feodor put his bow and arrows next to his bed and headed on downstairs again, just in time to hear the word "checkmate" be uttered. The voice that said it was not that of Feodor's father, which encouraged him to rush down the stairs.

There, in the living room, was Feodor's father looking at the board from every possible angle in utter disbelief. The sight was an extremely rare one that neither Feodor nor Xenia had ever seen. For the first time in their memories, their father had lost a game of chess. Feodor approached the young man, who was laughing at his opponent's surprise.

"Pardon me," Feodor cut in, "but I don't believe we've met."

"Indeed we haven't," the man said, turning his head to meet Feodor. "I'm Ivan," he said, shaking Feodor's hand.

"Feodor. So, how exactly did you end up here?"

"I happened to notice your sister practicing magic. I was quite surprised to see a maiden her age using Elfire with such skill."

"She's had years of practice," Feodor's father said. "This is apparently the same Ivan who led the battle against Lord Lundgren."

"Is that so?" Feodor asked. "Well, do you remember Wil?"

"Of course," Ivan said. "I would think it fair to assume you are acquainted with him."

"Yes, and as it turns out, he asked to stay for dinner with us tonight."

"In that case, I will have to see how he's faring. He's an impressive archer, but he still has much room to improve."

"I agree completely; he and I have a friendly rivalry going on. Right now, our score in matches is nineteen to eleven, with three draws. I have the nineteen."

"Then you must be quite skilled yourself. Anyway, is Wil nearby?"

"I'm right here," Wil said, coming in from the study. "It's certainly been a while, Ivan."

"Only a month," Ivan said. "I suppose it's a good thing you came across me today; I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"What?! But you've only been here a month!"

"Do you have something against Caelin?" Xenia asked.

"Not at all," Ivan responded. "However, I do not like staying in one place for too long. Also, I have been told that the summers here are quite brutal."

"They are, but that's because we're not connected to the ocean."

"Therefore, I do not intend to stay. The other reason, though, quite simply, is that I would like to see this continent before I get too old to travel."

"Well, make sure you have some guys to protect you," Wil said. "You're not that much of a fighter, and you certainly don't use magic."

"Just bad luck. Magic relies on a complex set of genes; some can use it, some can't."

"Suffice to say you're no ordinary thinker," Xenia said. "Even though you can't use magic, you can read Dragon, Eliminean, Spiritual, and modern writing and even understand it. I've never met someone so knowledgeable about magic before—at least, no one so knowledgeable who can't use magic himself."

"Thank you, Xenia."

"By the way," Feodor started, "Wil tells me that, under your command, he turned the tide of a battle by wreaking havoc with a ballista."

"He actually had little effect on the battle," Ivan said, laughing. "As a matter of fact, the ballista had only one bolt left when Wil finally reached it, and he used it to finish off a cavalier that Rath had wounded. I'm afraid I didn't use Wil's skills very effectively."

Feodor looked skeptically at Wil. "I'll never believe your account of the campaign again," he said.

"By the way, Ivan," Feodor's father started, "have you ever been to Ilia?"

"Yes," the strategist responded.

"Well, have you, perchance, heard of Niime the Hermit?"

"Of course; she is a legendary druid. Were you one of her students?"

"I learned from her briefly, but my family left for Lycia when I was fifteen. As a matter of fact, the story of our journey is a rather odd one."

"Is that so? If we meet again, I will have to remember to ask about it. My experience with shamans is that their stories are as long as their history."

"I…" Feodor's father laughed. "I suppose that is true. And the one I would have told you would be long even by our standards."

"It's a good story, though," Xenia said. "Feodor always fell asleep, but he doesn't care for long stories. Perhaps when he has children, he'll want to tell about how he met his wife."

"Compared to what Father went through," Feodor began, "I doubt my story will be anything like his."

"So, Ivan, where are you from?" Xenia asked.

"I prefer not to reveal that information; people think of me differently if they know where I am from. Besides, considering how much traveling I do, my descent really means little."

"Sorry; I wasn't trying to offend."

"You didn't; people always ask me that question. In fact, one of the reasons I travel is for the sake of tolerance. Someone from Bern is unlikely to treat a Lycian like one of his countrymen. Similarly, an Etrurian will probably sympathize more with a fellow Etrurian than a Sacaen. By traveling, I am able to get a sense of all the national customs. For example, the Djute tribe's movements actually follow those of the Djute bird, a bird that travels north to Ilia and south to Lycia depending on the season."

"Occasionally attacking southern Ilian towns," Feodor's father added. "Of course, Ilians and Sacaens are not known for getting along politically. On a personal level, they can easily befriend each other and even fall in love."

"I gathered that from the appearance of your wife; she is quite clearly of Sacaen descent. In addition, Lyn—that is to say, Lady Lyndis—and Dame Florina have been close friends for a long time. Admittedly, Lady Lyndis is only half-Sacaen, but she was raised on Sacaen customs."

"By the way, Ivan, you've commanded mages before, haven't you?" Xenia asked.

"Yes; a young gentleman from Etruria named Erk was under my command for a brief while."

"At least Wil was honest about that," Feodor said.

"I hope the poor fellow is faring all right as Serra's escort. I will not deny that Serra is attractive, but she has a personality that I had a great deal of trouble tolerating."

"Don't remind me."

"So you have met her?"

"She pretended she was interested in me, only to tell me she was a cleric after I finally got up the courage to tell her I was smitten."

"If I have been here long enough for infatuations to come and go, then I should definitely leave tomorrow."

"What's wrong? Have you something against love?"

"Nothing against it; I just know that love does not come and go over the course of a week. It makes me wonder if Erk will end up with Araphen Syndrome."

"You know what Araphen Syndrome is?" Xenia asked. "You're the first person we've met here who actually knows what it is."

"It matters to few; unless some great war were to break out, it would be unimportant to anyone." Ivan chuckled somewhat sadly. "Ironic that one who hates war would be a tactician."

"Then why did you become one?"

"It's what I'm good at; I'm weak enough to lose a fight with a child, and since I don't have the proper descent for magic, I was left with something that required thinking. What better for a thinker who loves to travel than tactics? Besides, I meet plenty of interesting people. As a matter of fact, I actually keep a log of all the people I meet. Since I have some skill with the brush and quill, I also try to sketch them so I remember them should I come across them again. In fact, I could tell a number of stories about the groups I've commanded."

"Such as?"

Ivan walked over to his greatcoat, which was hanging from a rack near one of the doors. Feodor noticed that even his way of walking seemed like that of a tactician—calm and somewhat arrogant; he had his arms behind his back, one hand holding the other by the wrist. Ivan reached into the secret pocket of his greatcoat and took out a large book and opened it to a page dated the 13th of the month of the Bow, 979.

"Each page has a picture of the face of someone I commanded," Ivan started, "along with some details about his or her personality. For example, someone I became very close friends with in Ilia was this young lady here." Ivan turned to a page with a picture of a girl who looked around fifteen. She had purple hair (a common trait in Ilians). "Her name's Yuno, and she was, without a doubt, my favorite out of the group of pegasus knights I commanded. There were initially about fifteen under my command, and they were, for the most part, just in training."

"A fellow your age commanding a wing of pegasus knights?" Feodor cut in. "That sounds suspicious, considering that only women are allowed to ride pegasi."

"That's just how things turned out. If I've given you the impression that I'm some sort of cad like Sir Sain, I apologize for misleading you. When I was first given command, I would have preferred a more experienced group, but spending time with them proved to benefit both myself and the troops. I became far more skilled with inexperienced soldiers, and the pegasus knights are probably full-fledged knights now. I'd mention the battles, but you would probably not believe me if I told you."

Xenia took the book from Ivan's hands and looked at the large number of notes about Yuno. "You've probably got the best handwriting I've ever seen," she said. "The writing's not exactly good-looking, but it's much more legible than anything else I've read. Is it all right if I take a look at this?"

"I suppose there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, one might be able to say it's all just fiction, considering my accounts of some of the battles."

Xenia walked upstairs to the drawing room so she could read without any disturbances. Feodor sat down in one of the chairs.

"So… pegasus knights," he said, skeptical of the validity of Ivan's small story.

"It is no lie," Ivan said. "I've had a small number of adventures, considering that my family was never content to just stay put."

"So why don't you have anyone traveling with you?"

"I'd rather not answer that."

"A traveling tactician who commanded a wing of Ilian pegasus knights and doesn't say a thing about his descent—somehow you strike me as more of a storyteller."

"I don't know about the pegasus knight part, but he's definitely a traveling tactician," Wil said. "You can ask anyone who helped defeat Lord Lundgren; Ivan's a bona fide tactician."

Feodor's mother gave the call for dinner, ending the conversation. Perhaps it stemmed from his father's paranoia, but Feodor could not help but wonder how much of Ivan's story was true. Hopefully, he would be able to expose the liar for who he really was during dinner. Ivan may have been able to fool Xenia, but he would be unlikely to continue lying like that to five people.