Chapter 6: 5 saddlebags or less.
Yozak sighed— the thought of his beloved friend Conrart committing suicide, or going crazy, scared the hell out of him. He knew very well that Conrart would have stayed in Shin Makoku, and done it without question or regret on the king's order. The man was obsessed with proving his worth to a country, which by Yozak's opinion at least, didn't deserve him.
The very idea made him sick; he wished he knew what had happened to bring about the complete shift in Conrart's personality. Fifty years had passed, and he still occasionally found himself flabbergasted by some of Conrart's newer tendencies, like the tendency to work himself into exhaustion for one thing. He just didn't know what had happened in the three month intern between when he'd left on assignment and when he'd come back home. Conrart had been an entirely different person from when he'd left. The difference between the 84 year old he'd known and the 85 year old he'd discovered upon his return had been so marked that he suspected something significant was at the heart of the change.
The Conrart who'd smiled, and become talkative when they were alone, had been replaced with an aloof, and reclusive, mistrusting workaholic. Granted over the years Conrart had gradually began to shift back, but the boy he had known was gone, and in his place stood a man who, while aloof was still a very good friend. Still he missed his Conrart, he still caught a rare glimpse of him at times however, lurking behind his friend's eyes, and on very rare occasions, Conrart still let him out to play.
He shook his head to clear away old memories, and glanced over at his comatose friend before beginning to pack Conrart's things. He started by removing several things from Conrart's shelves he knew his friend would want. Conrart's baseball glove and the ridiculous rubber duck he set lightly on the bed before tugging down the few books Conrart actually owned. These consisted of two small, well used, paperback books from his majesty's world, and three hard leather-bound books just slightly longer then his hand, and they joined the duck and glove upon the bed.
He took a step back glancing at Conrart's now bare shelves with a slight shake of his head. In some ways it was truly sad—Conrart had less in the way of personal possessions then he did! With a sigh, he made his way over to Conrart's heavy mahogany nightstand – which was curiously out of place. He pulled out the drawer, and felt around the edge of the nightstand for the small button concealed there, before sticking his hand into the space left by the drawer to find the small latch that held the hidden compartment closed.
With that done, he removed a small 8 to 9 inch long leather box embossed with the Weller Crest from the compartment. He set the box on the bed and turned to go about closing the compartment when he noticed 2 small rectangular objects which had been concealed by the box.
After a brief moment of consideration, he took those out as well before closing the compartment and deftly replacing the drawer.
The two objects turned out to be books. One was an old, but extremely well kept, leather bound book with vellum* pages, with a finely worked silver medallion bearing the Weller family crest set into the cover. It's thin, time worn, no longer quite blue bookmark rested lightly in the exact center of the book. Curiosity overcame him briefly, and he flipped the book open to the marked page. What he found made him smile slightly—he'd seen Wolfram, bragging to Yuri about family lineage books, deftly waving a small leather bound, (but less well maintained) book of parchment under the young king's nose.
This was the Lineage Book of the Weller family, and the page he was looking at bore the name Conrart Laurence Weller accompanied by the date of his birth in neat script. Across from it lay Conrart's father's name and the date of his birth in a hand he didn't recognize. However, the date of his death and the small note written across the bottom half of the page was written in Conrart's neat, slightly slanted script.
The second book he recognized immediately, despite its missing corner and the scorch marks obscuring its title. Bound in dark green velvet – that had faded to pale green-gray with time – and embellished with gold leaf work, it was the book that Conrart's father used to read bedtime stories to them from.
The same book Conrart had used to teach him how to read.
The same book Wolfram had deliberately set on fire twenty-five years ago.
The same book Conrart had burned his hands retrieving.
It had been in Conrart's family since before the founding of The Great Demon Kingdom!
He set the two books down lightly on the bed and went about collecting Conrart's clothing. He grabbed his friend's few articles of non-military clothing, folded them neatly, and set them on the bed. Socks and underwear came next. Then he took out several pairs of the noble's standard issue panties, and after a moment's thought added a few pairs of the strange underwear from Yuri's world that Conrart preferred to sleep in; boxers he believed they were called. He grabbed both sets of Conrart's boots and some night clothing. Glancing around, he deftly plucked Conrart's sword off its rack and placed it on the bed. Then he grabbed Conrart's flute and proceeded to dismantle the silver instrument and pack it into its padded leather case, before setting it on the bed as well. Ducking back into Conrart's now bare wardrobe (except for his uniforms) he plucked Conrart's travel packs off of one of the shelves.
Deftly he rolled up the clothing and stowed it all away in the bags. It didn't take long to pack the things on the bed, and Yozak was mildly disgusted by the fact that barring the uniforms, he could basically fit Conrart's entire life – all 135 years of it – into three small travel packs.
He glanced around, praying that he'd find something he'd missed. Anything he'd forgotten; anything, to at least fill the fourth bag. All he found were bare walls.
He sighed and left the bedroom in favor of the also bare sitting room. That's when he spotted it. Resting in a place of honor above the mantel was Conrart's father's sword. He smiled as he lifted the thing free of its spot, grabbed the little stand it had been resting on with his left hand, and walked back into the bedroom, setting the sword down beside Conrart's. It was only an inch or two longer, and a little wider, than the eloquent blade Conrart carried. He picked up the not quite full third bag and set the little stand inside before closing it again.
Turning on his heel, he walked quietly up to Jissa and hugged her neck. He would soon be going home. It was strange how quickly he'd come to think of any place that held Jissa as his home.
Jissa's ears flicked forward, and she made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. : Heralds live in the capital city of Haven, but a Herald's home is in his Companion's saddle, Chosen. With time you will see what I mean. You have family again now; every Herald is a part of your new grossly extended family. : Her mind-voice had a crisp clean feeling to it, like fresh apples on an autumn day.
She paused briefly before continuing: You worry for your friend; what Vanyel said has scared you. : She pressed on, not giving him a chance to respond. : Do not fear for him, Chosen. He is in the best hands possible. Vanyel may physically be young but he is an old soul and has firsthand experience with extremely powerful Gifts. Your friend will be fine. As to the changes in his personality that you have noticed over the years…well, trauma is usually behind such drastic changes. Be that the case, the best thing for your friend may well be that he is Chosen. There are very few who can completely shield out their Companion, not that Heralds really want to. Vanyel knows full well what can happen when a Companion allows his Herald to be ruled by trauma. He'll not let that happen to Conrart. Trust me when I tell you, if there is some trauma underlying the changes you noted, Vanyel will find them, and he will do all that he can for his Chosen. Conrart will be fine—he will learn to control his gifts, and he will be fine. :
He hugged her neck firmly. : Thank you, love: he replied calmly. : I'm going to go pack my own bags. Will you please stay here and watch after Conrart for me? :
: Of course I will—go see to the things you need to do.: she said simply.
He took a step back and patted her neck fondly before turning and leaving the room. He walked down the hall and down the staircase leading out into the courtyard. He wasn't nobility, nor was he a guest in the palace or even a servant; he was a soldier; as such he lived in the barracks.
He yanked open the heavy doors to the barracks and walked through calmly down the halls, nodding to the occasional soldier who'd noted his return from whatever 'assignment' Conrart had sent him on as a cover for his latest spying mission. He made up answers to various questions quickly and easily, making sure every single answer matched up with both the question and every other answer he'd given so far. He paused in his trek only once to break up a rather loud and unbecoming bout of unauthorized sparing between two junior officers, who really should have known better. He turned them over to LT. Brice to be dealt with, after verbally ripping them several new orifices. Conrart didn't tolerate internal strife among his men, and when he was in residence he enforced his captain's orders with a heavy hand. However, with both Conrart's and his own resignation from their posts, it was likely Brice would take over command of the unit at the very least, and Conrart's place as Yuri's personal guard at best. It was time he hit the water and swam on his own.
At last he made it to his room; one of the perks of being named Conrart's second was that he had his own room. He ducked under his bed and liberated a large wooden box. From this he pulled out his travel packs—they were all plain, unadorned brown leather, baring the little fox symbol on the very edge of the pack. With that done, he stooped and pulled out a longer, cedar wooden box from under the bed also. Opening the lid, he carefully dug through the pile of neatly arranged gowns, dresses, and various costumes until he found his favorite dress, the one Conrart had once referred to as 'the little blue number'. Carefully, he removed it, being sure not to disturb any of the other dresses stored inside. He set it on the bed, closed the box, locked it, and slid it quickly back into its place.
Then he turned and went about packing his things. He packed all of his civilian clothing and the dress, before (as an afterthought) packing up all of the jewelry he actually owned. After twenty-five years as a spy, he had quite the collection of jewelry, some of it cheap imitations, some of it more expensive. His collection of ornamental hair combs he packed next. That done, he packed both pairs of his boots and the small slip on shoes he wore around his room when he was off duty.
He glanced back at his wardrobe, which was empty except for his dress uniform and the two other standard issue uniforms he owned but rarely wore. It was odd seeing his room so… empty—he'd lived here for the last thirty years. He shook his head, and grabbing his now full packs, he left the room, still confused as to why he'd been able to pack up Conrart's entire life into three not quite full saddle bags, when he could hardly fit his life into five bags and still had a trunk full of dresses he was leaving behind.
Closing his door behind him, he began the long trek down the hall in the direction of Brice's tiny office. He'd better have a talk with Conrart's second officer, since Conrart wasn't in any condition to do it himself. Along the way, he paused briefly to remind a few of the men that gambling was prohibited, particularly if they were foolish enough to leave the door open so that their commanding officers could see what they were up to. He then closed the door and left them to it.
Yozak arrived at Brice's door just as the two junior officers were leaving; he nodded politely as the two men saluted to him and knocked briefly on Brice's door before entering. He was still technically the man's commanding officer, until Gwendal had signed the papers dismissing him from his post; as such he didn't have to knock at all. He did so more out of courtesy than anything else. Brice bolted to his feet, his hand raised in a salute the second he laid eyes on his superior.
Yozak sighed. "At ease," he said calmly, setting his bags down on one of the hard-backed, uncomfortable wooden chairs. He leaned casually up against the chair, his arms resting against the back. He briefly considered handling the situation like a military officer, but quickly dismissed the idea as less then fun.
"I've come to offer you my congratulations." He said with a cheerful grin.
Brice looked genuinely startled, not that Yozak had expected otherwise. The man had no way of knowing that he and Conrart were about to be spirited away to a country on a different world by their Companions. The mere thought of Jissa warmed his heart, and he wondered if he would always feel like this before shaking off his retrieve at Brice's startled "Sir?"
Yozak smiled at him briefly before indicating his packed bags. "On your promotion of course, Lieutenant," he replied.
"Sir?" Brice repeated, realization dawning in his hazel eyes before he asked, "Permission to speak freely?"
"Permission granted, Lieutenant." Yozak replied lightly.
Brice sighed. "Have you been reassigned, sir?" He asked after a brief moment's hesitation.
Yozak grinned, "Retiring actually."
The expression on Brice's face was absolutely priceless. "But sir, you're so young! Surely you… I mean-"
The young lieutenant fell silent, a faint blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks, and Yozak couldn't quite help suppress a laugh. "I never took myself for the retiring early type either." He said simply, than added; "Jissa changed all that a short time ago when she pranced into my life and happily turned it upside down." He smiled, amused both by the look on Brice's face as he took that statement entirely the wrong way and by Jissa's sputtering in the back of his mind.
:Flatterer. : She accused mildly.
: I call 'em as I see 'em, my lovely lady. Now if you'll excuse me, Brice looks like he's about to have a conniption: he replied, before turning his attention back to the startled Lieutenant just in time to catch his next statement.
"Aren't you courting the Captain?" the man blurted.
Yozak briefly considered reminding him that that inquiry was out of line even if he had been given permission to speak freely. He was still technically his commanding officer! He decided to let that particular comment slide . . . sort of.
"Sadly, no," he replied flippantly before adding for Jissa's ears alone : Not that I'd even have a chance if I tried. :
Jissa's reply took him off guard. : Why do you say that, Chosen?:
His reply was simple, and by his way of thinking, undeniable. : Social stature, love. We come from two entirely different classes; he is higher nobility, and I am an orphaned peasant turned soldier. It could never work. Besides, he's my commanding officer—it wouldn't be seemly. :
Jissa pondered that for a moment, before replying. : Social stature has little bearing among Heralds, love. We choose them from all walks of life, and the only Herald with true rank is the Monarch's Own. Even the Monarchs themselves are only Monarch in the Throne Room; everywhere else they're just another Herald. You can love him and still protect him; that is the nature of love, Chosen. As to his being your commanding officer, he no longer is, and even if he were, the Heralds wouldn't care. :
Yozak sighed: I don't even know if he's interested in men. He was infatuated with Lady Julia, although he used to date Lord Odalis Gwilherm. But other than that, he's never seemed particularly interested in men. I mean, he only dances with women at the court functions, granted he's danced with me a time or two, but only when I was undercover. :
Jissa snorted and seemed resigned: You are very good at disguising your gender. : She admitted after a moment, before adding: I can't help you in regards to his preferences, Chosen, but I can say this – he may very well not know his preferences. Either way, don't sell yourself short. :
: Conrart has always been able to see through my disguises, even when I fool everyone else. : He replied mildly, before abruptly remembering that he was still in Brice's office.
Thankfully one didn't survive twenty-five years as a spy without picking up a few things. He blinked, and stifled a mock yawn behind his hand, pretending to be sleepy. "Sorry," he muttered, "didn't get much sleep the day before yesterday and I rode straight through the night to get here. I'm pretty tired."
Brice smiled slightly, "How's the captain taking it? Even if you aren't courting him, you've been friends for years and closer still since the war."
Yozak paused briefly, wondering how best to go about this particular subject. At last, he decided on the direct approach. "Oh, Conrart will probably have a conniption when he finds out. Not that it'll matter. Lord Von Voltaire is drawing up the necessary paperwork as we speak, and Conrart is no longer my commanding officer – seeing how he's also retiring early; for similar reasons I might add."
The look on the older man's face was one of pure shock. "THE CAPTAIN'S RETIRING??!!!" he yelped.
"Yup," Yozak replied nodding his head slightly, "He'd have told you himself, but he's currently not in any position to do so. Until further notice, you have command of this division. I'm sure Gwendal will send for you as soon as he has the time. Guard the king well, Brice – or you'll have Conrart and me to deal with."
With that done Yozak turned and left the room, his back ram-rod straight. He had to go and have a talk with Gwendal, and then see Gisela about whatever in the hell she'd force-fed Conrart!
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A.N: Vellum was originally a translucent or opaque material produced from the skin of an unborn Calf, antelope, deer or lamb. It was more expensive then parchment (which was and is made from the skin of a goat, sheep, or calf) because it is of a much finer quality. Modern day parchment and vellum 'paper' is usually just that high quality paper.