Therion had been there during the execution, among the crowd. He figured it was a prime seat to see the whole spectacle... and also swipe a few wallets, of course.
And then, of course, Alfyn came bursting in with his usual gusto and bleeding-heart bull. The thief was almost worried the people would want to tear the dumb blonde apart for being such a sap.
Then, lo and behold, the mighty church of the Flame gets involved. They propose exile, not execution. Everyone is shocked at first... and then they buy into it. It's decided.
Vanessa gets to keep her life.
At the conclusion of the not-hanging, Therion lingers as people slowly mill on back to town. His eye looks up towards Alfyn on the platform. The apothecary, the cleric, the clergy, and the condemned and the officers of the law remain there as well. The church seems to be concluding their business with the arm of the law. The sheriff gestures for the hangman to let Vanessa down. They would be taking her back to the gaols.
Among the stragglers, Therion spots the familiar woman with the sick daughter lagging behind. She keeps looking towards the two apothecaries.
Nearby, Prim and the rest of the crew had stayed as well.
"Alfyn?" Ophilia goes to touch his shoulder lightly, "Are you alright?"
"Huh? O-oh, yeah... thanks for the assist, Lia," Alfyn smiles.
"Well then... I'm glad this has amicably settled..." Donovan gives a passing glance towards Vanessa as she is led away, "... Mercy has prevailed."
Alfyn looks towards Vanessa. The other apothecary doesn't look to anyone, looking merely even more haggard as she is taken away. Alfyn purses his lips a little and sighs, closing his eyes.
"You have a heart of gold, I must say," Donovan smiles at Alfyn, "She has done you and others much harm, and yet you testified on her behalf. In my time here as archbishop, I haven't really seen such show of compassion."
"It ain't nothing much," Alfyn rubs the back of his neck, "We're apothecaries. We ain't supposed to be killing people. It's as simple as that."
Ophilia manages a small smile of encouragement, "You're more than just a good apothecary, Alfyn. You're a good person."
"Ophilia is right about that," Donovan nods, "As for Vanessa, she will never be allowed back into our town. I expect us to complete exile no later than the next hour. And then we will have the Kindling shortly after."
"So... she's just gonna be kicked out? Given the boot?" Alfyn asks, looking a little nervous.
"Well, yes. The Knights and sheriff will make sure she has all her belongings as they escort her to the west entrance. And she will be off our hands from there."
Alfyn definitely doesn't look the most happy about this outcome. But it is still leagues better than watching some corpse hanging by the sea. He nods.
"Thanks, sir."
"Ah, call me Father Donovan... or just Father Don," Donovan laughs, "Now, I should be away to prepare then for the Kindling..."
The sheriff and clergy leave, save for Ophilia. She and Alfyn descend from the paltform down to where their little party is, as well as Marlene. Alfyn spots the mother and waves his hand as he approaches.
"Ma'am, you came out here to... see, huh?"
"Is it true," She asks in a low voice.
Alfyn's smile lessens. A few seconds of awkward silence follow.
"Is it true that... she poisoned Flynn?" Marlene looks up to him with distraught eyes.
"..." Alfyn lets out a sigh through his nose, "... She gave Flynn some bad medicine... That's true, no denying it."
"Why did you stop them from hanging her?" Marlene asks a bit louder, "Why, after all the grief she has caused...!"
Therion watches a bit behind. The woman is likely harmless. The others of the party awkwardly look on as well.
"... Ma'am-"
"What if it was someone in your family?" Marlene asks him, her eyes searching his own for answers, "Would you still have stopped her deserving death?"
Ophilia purses her lips a bit and she holds her staff tightly. The idea of a person deserving death is rather... extreme. Humans are imperfect. To have them judge who among themselves can live or die is contrary to the teachings of Aelfric.
"... I get how scared you were for Flynn, ma'am. I don't got a family like you do... Gods know I would go in a fit anything happened to 'em..." Alfyn says softly, glancing back sideways a little to his group.
"..." Marlene keeps looking at him.
"But that doesn't mean I can just send someone to die. That just ain't how apothecaries should do. We ain't executioners and we oughta bring more relief than harm," Alfyn sighs, "Even if it means second chances to people not everyone thinks deserves."
Marlene looks to him and then down a little. She then shakes her head and drawls her shawl about herself, sniffling a little.
"Ma'am, Flynn is safe. Vanessa'll never be back here..." Alfyn adds, "It doesn't hafta end in blood."
Marlene lets out a soft sigh, "... She had betrayed the trust of so many... I had honestly thought her to be such an upstanding person..."
"She had me fooled, too, honestly," Alfyn grins softly, "I don't think it's a bad thing though, seeing the good in people first."
Marlene looks up at him now, "... I am sorry I … didn't see that in you at first."
"Ahh, no harm no foul, don't worry about it!" Alfyn chuckles, scratching his neck, "I guess it's just motherly instinct when I'm just a stranger by yer daughter!"
Therion rolls his eye.
"Thank you so much again, Alfyn," Marlene bows her head, "I... I wish you luck on your journey... And, I know you won't take coin... it may not be much but... You can visit me and the girls here whenever you wish."
"Ah, thanks for the invite! Maybe I'll see 'em before we take off, hehe!"
With that, Marlene excuses herself back to her daily chores. Alfyn watches the washerwoman leave before turning back to see the faces of all the party looking at him. It seems a bit awkward, and no one says anything for a full minute.
"... Gee, you are such a sap, Alf!" Tressa breaks the silence, eliciting a laugh from Primrose and Olberic.
"It's wonderful how you've helped them, Alfyn," Ophilia nods.
"Aye, thou haft much to taken pride in doneth here," H'aanit nods. Linde nods in agreement as well.
"I say, there are not enough stories of this kind of heroism," Simeon seems to think a second, "Truly, apothecaries have such potential to be riveting characters..."
"Aw shucks, it was nothing! C'mon, we gotta get ready next for the, uh, Kindle or something, right, Lia?" Alfyn grins.
"Ah, yes, the Kindling...! I suspect I will have to prepare alone... so you all are free to go about until it is time to light the flame in the cathedral hall!" Ophilia nods enthusiastically.
"The Kindling... Wow, I never thought I'd get to see that this year," Therese puts a hand to her chin at the realization.
"Tis a grand opportunity indeed, every vicennia," Olberic nods, "You do us all proud, Ophilia."
The cleric blushes and hurriedly bows to them all before hurrying off.
"Hehe... alright, I guess I got some more patients to see then!" Alfyn wipes his nose, "Oh, and I gotta see Vanessa sent off..."
Therion rolls his eye, "What? Seriously?"
"Well, yeah... I feel I oughta..." Alfyn rubs the back of his neck.
"Idiot... You'll be lucky if some people don't throw you out after you sided with her," The thief scowls, "Not everyone's gonna be some meek washerwoman."
"Well, you guys figure that out then," Tressa folds her arms and begins marching back to town, "I gotta make up some revenue. Otherwise, this town was a total bust!"
Primrose laughs a bit as she goes to follow Tressa. She tosses a glance to Alfyn and Therion with a bit of mischief, "Play nice, boys."
Therion scoffs at her as she leaves. He looks back to Alfyn. The apothecary looks determined as usual. The thief sighs. He's stuck on apothecary duty again. Somewhere inside, he feels... unsatisfied.
…
Saved from the jaws of death, it seems... Was that just a dream? Maybe she had already dropped and broken her neck... Maybe this was all some strange dream...
Another rough push from the sheriff convinces Vanessa that this has to be reality. She surely could come up with a more pleasant dream, after all. Then... She is still alive. That apothecary had come to her defense... Such a wild and unexpected turn of events. She didn't think anyone would speak up on her behalf... and certainly not with his vigor.
She's led back to her cell in the gaol and shoved in. Her hands are untied. The sheriff gives her a look of repugnance as he slams the door closed, "Ye'll be outta here soon... Maybe the gods decided death was too good fer ye."
She says nothing, merely sitting there on the cold, dirty floor.
She's alive... should she be celebrating then?
Exile... And her image here is irrevocably tarnished, no doubt. If word spreads, she'll be done for. Likely, they will send advisories of her face to other towns and cities...
So, she is alive... but she is ruined.
Despite that daunting premise, part of her is elated enough to kiss the floors of this dingy cell. No matter what, a primal part of her desired to live, even if it was just scrounging.
As the daze of the cancelled execution slowly wears off, she knows she has to plan for her inevitable departure. She doesn't have much left since her bag was thoroughly searched and pretty much emptied. All her funds had been confiscated. She's leaving with little more than the clothes on her back.
But she isn't a stupid person either. She has a small stash hidden outside of town, in one of the caves where the undertow of the sea pulls in at times. It is a place locals tend to avoid, hence why she stashed a small backup fund for a rainy day. It had been a while since she visited there, but it should suffice for her to make some changes and maybe get away from all this.
As she assures herself with this knowledge, another part of her is seething still at how this has all turned out. All because she wanted to live beyond how her mother had... was that so wrong? So what if some people had gotten sick?
And yet... despite these horrible thoughts, that man, Alfyn, had stood up for her right to live. Why in the name of Steorra's Scales did he do that? It's hard to wrap the mind around when even she knew what she was doing was wrong...
Surely, he was doing it for his own gain or something. He has to expect something in return, right? Maybe he wants to aggrandize himself, even? Some people who are too good to be true are just massaging their egos, after all. Maybe he...
And none of these excuses she conjures up convince her. He had genuinely approached her, assuming her intentions were like his own; that she was treating people for benign reasons. When he learned the truth, his anger was at her betrayal of that expectation and the apothecary creed more so than petty jealousy or something like vengeance...
She had called him a bumpkin, one ignorant of the ways of the world. He's someone who sticks to those ideals that can't fill any bellies...
Then he really was just... a decent person.
The admittance to the realization gnaws at her insides. That someone like him had stood on her behalf... it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. After she had tried to kill him and his little friends... for him to save her not just once, but twice!
It makes the bile rise in her guts thinking about the unexpected rescue by an enemy... and some stupidly good-hearted bumpkin no less! Was this supposed to be some kind of cosmic joke? In that case, well done universe.
So, she'll have to leave. Start fresh somehow. The stain of what she's done is merely compounded by the knowledge of exactly why she is still alive.
For a second, she wondered if things could have been different. If she had walked a different path... they could have been allies on the quest of apothecaries.
Now... she is to be exiled.
What should she do? Where should she go?
And, most importantly of all, how can she atone?
…
Alfyn works like a dog as usual, treating victims of Vanessa's trickery. While his little stunt at the hanging site didn't earn him any favors, people were more worried about their own health at the end of the day. And his cures were working well.
Therion had hoped the idiot would lose himself in his work and forget about the exile. But Alfyn is adamant to see Vanessa off.
At the west gate of Goldshore, the way their party had come, Alfyn and Therion arrive to see the town law and Vanessa. The recently pardoned apothecary has only her clothes and her satchel, which has been reduced a lot in size. She sees the two of them and she recoils a little in expression.
"... Hi," Alfyn gives an awkward grin and waves as he and Therion approach.
"..."
"..."
There is a notable bit of awkward tension. It's understandable. Vanessa can't look Alfyn in the eye. Alfyn isn't allowed near her on account of the guards escorting her out of Goldshore forever.
"... Well?" The sheriff stares at them just standing there, "Come on, lass."
They nudge Vanessa along. A few of the Knights Ardante assisting the escort don't pay Alfyn and Therion too much mind.
At the gate, they can see the sandy path out and the surrounding areas with some patches of greenery. Vanessa trudges out past the town line now. The sheriff folds his arms gruffly, eyes wary of the girl to ensure she leaves.
"And don't come back, ya hear! Or else there will be a hanging next time!" He growls.
Vanessa doesn't turn at his words. Her steps don't stop. She doesn't look back. She knows Alfyn is probably watching, being the sappy bumpkin he is.
True enough, Alfyn is waving her off. Therion is face-palmed next to him. They see Vanessa's somewhat-unsure gait as she leaves their sight.
"Hmf," The sheriff side-eyes Alfyn, "You're wasting your time, boy."
"..." Alfyn doesn't say anything as Vanessa disappears over a nearby sand dune. He lowers his arm and then just stretches.
"Oh, speaking of that, here."
Alfyn looks in surprise as the sheriff hands him what looks like a loose sheaf of papers. The paper looks a little soiled with some mildew at the edges. Scrawled on the first page in somewhat elegant, yet rushed, handwriting is "Cures for the Common People."
"Huh?" Alfyn receives the papers and looks to the sheriff, confused, "What's this?"
"I dunno. Lass said to let you have it," The sheriff thumbs his nose and shrugs, "I said I'd give it to ye, not that she deserves any favors."
"Vanessa?" Alfyn's eyes widen. She wanted him to have this?
"Alright, we're done here! Finally!" The sheriff sighs and starts walking back into town with the Knights, "Now we can finally get behind the Kindling coming!"
Therion looks to Alfyn as the apothecary thumbs through the worn booklet. It's not bound as nicely as Alfyn's own book nor Zeph's. Its age is definitely showing.
Still, Alfyn seemed pretty absorbed as he looks over the various hand-drawn art and writing on a multitude of plants, their stages of life and uses, and even some recipes. Scribbles of notes show meticulous methods in record-keeping.
On the last page is a small scribble saying "Property of Vanessa Hyzel."
"..."
Alfyn lets out a nigh inaudible sigh and he puts the leaflet away. Therion can see that his face is brimming with renewed energy rather than anything like sadness. That's a good thing. Of course, Therion wasn't entirely sure what was to be so happy about with some ratty booklet.
"Alright! Back to the grind!" Alfyn announces, "Still got a coupla houses to hit up and then we gotta see Lia at her event!"
Therion rolls his eye a little at the busybody attitude. But he preferred this to Alfyn being despondent any day.
…
"Alright, come and get your sky stones here!" Tressa bellows confidently at the marketplace. She luckily had the last of her stock from Quarrycrest to sell in new places. And, without a rival like Ali here, she has all the clients for the pickings. The nobility and rich are particularly taken to the sheen and luster of the stones that they had never seen before. The hubbub for these stones had not reached outside the Cliftlands.
"I have a limited stock! When it's out, it's gone! Come one, come all! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I guarantee it!" Tressa holds the rim of her cap with confidence and looks with satisfaction at the faces ogling her goods.
Nearby, Primrose chuckles. She's playing guard for now, with her watchful eye looking for any thieves among the mix. Simeon had gone off with Cyrus and Therese to visit the cathedral archives. Simeon is a bit of a bookworm as well as a writer. The dancer is honestly glad he can find commonality with others than just herself.
"You've improved your pitch," The dancer teases Tressa, "I see Ali taught you well."
"Taught?! Humf! I mean, maybe he had a point or two, but he didn't teach me this! I just gotta think of it myself! Not like I'm lying," Tressa wipes her nose, "These are the last of the stones I got from the quarries."
"I'll take these two big ones!" One woman exclaims.
"Oh, these are just like the sky when it is at ataraxia with the sea below... a blue yonder of reflections that stretches to infinity..." Another buyer muses.
"That'll be three hundred leaves!" Tressa grins. She had upped the prices a good chunk from Quarrycrest. To her glee, these loaded nobles barely bat an eye at the price. Of course, this kind of price is a steep drop from what Vanessa was hawking for. Tressa had thought about going even higher, maybe to 500 leaves. But, she figured these guys were probably a bit spent after that apothecary's stunt, so she shouldn't push her luck.
"This is perfect! I have to get to the jeweler's right away! I absolutely need a necklace with this stone for the Kindling ceremony later!" One buyer hurries away with their purchase.
"Yep, these are perfect for any occasion! Compliments your earrings, your ring, your brooch!" Tressa points to the crowd.
Primrose watches with a small smile at Tressa selling. It's nice to be so eager and love what you are doing.
I, on the other hand...
She had wanted to dance even as a child... but that desire feels so dirty and tainted now in comparison to what Tressa, Cyrus, or Simeon do. They have professions they enjoy that bring joy to others... her dancing has more often than not just been a precursor to whatever the patron wanted with her body after...
She shakes her head slightly and looks up towards the cathedral overlooking the town. Her hand clasps lightly over her birthmark, which aches just a little all of a sudden.
Alfyn had looked her over after the tussle in the Caves of Azure. He saw the mark, as much as she wished he hadn't. He was certainly worried about the strange mark spreading across her skin. She can't just lie and say it's a birthmark anymore. But she had him swear he wouldn't tell anyone else. She had to assure him that it was harmless... and so far, that isn't a lie exactly...
Despite her vigilance, maybe she is fated to meet the same end as the other Azelharts who fell to this dark magic they wielded themselves. The mark is a sign the magic is consuming her through use... In that case, she would just have to finish her revenge before her time is up.
The cathedral's bell tower glints in the sunlight of the late afternoon. Her eyes look to it with some accusation.
When had the gods ever answered her prayers?
"Alright! Last call, last call!" Tressa hollers to sell out the last few measly sky stones, the smallest of her stock, "These may look tiny, but they make for great gems in jewelry! Don't waste this chance, get them while they're here!"
Her spiel works and her small spot in the marketplace is cleaned spotless. Other sellers in the area look with some jealousy at the merchant as she happily closes up for the day with a handsome haul in hand. At around this time, Olberic enters the market square. He waves and sees Tressa's big smile.
"A good day, I hope?" He says with a chuckle, "Your grin is so wide it puts the moon to shame."
"Hehehe, I guess the key in a stale market is to have the fresher, newer goods!" Tressa holds her chin with a smug expression, "I'll hafta count it all up in the inn!"
"And how were you faring, Sir Berg?" Primrose looks to the warrior, "No more swimming, I hope?"
"Perish the thought," Olberic rubs his neck awkwardly, "If I should need to wade into the sea within this tenday, t'would be too soon..."
"Ah, but that's a shame when we are in the Coastlands. You've been here twice now and barely stepped foot on the beach when you weren't drowning!" Primrose laughs and winks, "That's a bit of a waste of an excellent opportunity. A golden one, one might even say."
"Hmm, come to think of it," Tressa packs up her things, "I haven't hit the beach here either! I've been hitting the stores up and down... Let's see what these gold shores are made of after I get settled!"
The warrior looks a bit apprehensive at the two women who are more eager than he to near the waves once more. He sighs and scratches his head a bit before just walking with them back to the inn.
"Don't worry, Olberic! Prim can probably save you again!" Tressa grins, "And I can blow you back to shore with my magic... maybe!"
"Maybe when you can manifest a larger gale," The dancer scoffs softly in amusement, "Your range and power seem like short-ranged bursts."
"Well... Cyrus is a slow teacher!" Tressa says quickly.
"Hurry along with your accounting then, Tressa," The dancer chortles as they near the inn, "Me and Sir Berg will be outside and then we can go to the beach before the Kindling begins."
"Mm!" Tressa nods and runs into their rooms.
"... she is a very eager child," Olberic puts his hands on his hips, "Reminds me of many a cadet back in the day..."
"Those you trained?" Primrose looks to him from the side.
"Aye... I was not often a trainer. But I did see many promising soldiers," The warrior nods, "I myself had many great mentors."
"Oh? Some legends go as far as to say you were born practically swinging a sword," Primrose teases.
"Heavens no, gods forbid..." Olberic looks away awkwardly, "Few, if any, are born with skill so polished from whence they were a babe. All warriors of any level require training to hone their skills."
"Was that a lesson you learned from someone else?" The dancer leans back on a nearby fence post.
"Aye. She was a wonderful teacher," Olberic smiles fondly at the memory.
"Cyrus could learn a thing or two about telling stories from you," Primrose chuckles. Olberic blushes, not entirely sure he knows what she means, "You might have a knack for it."
"Is that so..."
"Alrighty, beach time!" Tressa comes bouncing out with her enormous pack reduced to a still-heavy bag slung across her chest, "I got my essentials and then some, convenient travel size!"
"That's travel size?" Primrose can see the pack practically bulging.
"Hmm, it looks about the same as the ration packs we carried on mountain patrols," Olberic shrugs, "So long as you do not swim with it, it shan't be an issue, I think."
"Hey, I know how this goes! I'm a Coastland girl, did ya forget!" Tressa points to herself proudly with her thumb, "Alright, let's go before the Kindling starts!"
…
"My, this is quite an impressive collection... though I should expect nothing less!"
Cyrus is avidly poring over the archives, courtesy of the Church of Flame. He, Therese, and Simeon are currently within the recesses of the cathedral's innards. These are not frequented by churchgoers and just upkept by staff. However, they are actually open to the public. It's just not everyone's cup of tea to look over these old books. Scholars are usually not that common a visitor in Goldshore.
"Some of these are limited edition from even the ages circa even the lost kingdom of Bernstein!" Cyrus exclaims with glittering eyes.
"Bernstein? Wasn't that the lost kingdom bought down by Saloman the Scholar?" Therese looks up from her tome of romantic tales.
"Correct, Therese! The very same who wrote the famous tome From the Far Reaches of Hell... They say he was hanged for his crimes before his own granddaughter," Cyrus rubs his chin, "A lot of people lost their lives due to his dark magic... not only Bernstein, but also the kingdom of Granatt."
"Yes, many a play lend from that famous tragedy," Simeon muses, leaned on a stack of books that seem heavier than himself, "You have the classics like 'The Mad Scholar' or even lesser known productions like 'Forgive Me By The Noose.'"
"Theatre is quite expansive a topic," Cyrus nods, "Despite having read many a script, I'm afraid I do not spectate them at all... I simply haven't the time, I'm afraid."
"That's awful to hear. I think a bit of theatre will enrich any life, no matter how learned already."
"Professor, Simeon has a point," Therese says hopefully, "It would do you good to even attend some of the skits held by the students in the acting school. The arts, at all, really."
"I simply find time so... easily slipping from my fingers, is all!" Cyrus exclaims with some lament, "One minute, I'm reading a fascinating piece of text... and then the next, an entire hour has passed, the candle wax is already dish-deep, and tis dark!"
"That does... sound like a conundrum," Simeon chuckles softly, "You are simply an avid reader, hm? Tis not a fault, for sure. But one needs better eyes to see more than just words on a page."
"You sounded a bit like my colleague for a second there," Cyrus thinks a second, "Actually, I suppose I do receive that advice often."
"Professor..." Therese sighs with exasperation. The man is truly helpless sometimes... oh well.
Simeon looks over some titles and his eyes fall upon a more recent tome... one on the Azelhart family. His eyes narrow for a second. He picks the volume up and leafs through it, looking displeased.
"Hm? What's that you got there?" Therese looks to him curiously, "You look... upset by it."
"Ah, it's... this is a rather tragic tale I am familiar with," Simeon shows her the cover.
"A Complete Family History of the Azelharts..." Therese looks it over. She's a bit bemused since the name is unfamiliar to her.
"The Azelharts, ah. We never covered them in class, so allow me," Cyrus speaks up and clears his throat, "Ahem, the Azelharts were an aristocratic family. Together with the other aristocrats from the Flatlands, they were a formidable policing force throughout the kingdom. At the time, their ranking was highly regarded even by the King Osred I, your great-uncle."
"Hmm... But they were not one of the eight Flatland clans," Therese points out.
"No, indeed not. It is speculated that the Azelharts might actually have been transplants from another region before they settled in the city of Noblecourt, where most of the aristocracy was centered. There, they built a strong trust with the crown, showing exemplary leadership, as the books go..." Cyrus flips though a book, "They are a much more specialized topic than general history. I believe Thomas teaches a course on the history of noble bloodlines..."
"Noble as they were, one cannot forget that is not an adjective exclusive from tyranny and despotism," Simeon brings up, "A little known fact of the Azelharts is the ruthlessness in their climb to power. This is often overshadowed by the amounts of glorification in stories they endorsed writers to later produce."
"Ruthless? I mean, they were police even among the aristocrats, no?" Therese thinks a moment.
"During their initial entry to the aristocratic circles, back when the crown of Wold was still fairly divorced from the tribes, the Azelharts had held a feast in the honor of their rivals. They invited them to their dinner in a show of humbleness," Simeon weaves his finger slowly through the air as if conducting, "When their guests were drunk with mead, the Azelharts had their throats cut overnight, thus securing their power by eliminating said rivals."
"Oh my!" Therese exclaims.
"Ah, yes... the infamous murder at the dinner of 1500... I believe," Cyrus thinks a second, "Yes, the same year that Pope Catalina had called a conference to discuss cross-national issues across Orsterra."
"Aye, and it was decided by the Kingdom of Wold to allow the Azelharts to claim their victory despite the underhanded nature of the grisly deed," Simeon smiles grimly, "History rewards the wily fox more often than not... Plays featuring famous scenes mimicking the murder at dinner are few, but they do exist."
"They had fallen, though, right?" Therese realizes, "Yes, I do remember reading about it in some old papers before I was born... About how their entire family was felled in a night's time."
"Well, to be fair, it wasn't so sudden," Cyrus points out, "The Azelharts had long admittedly been in decline even before the untimely demise of their last patriarch, Geoffrey."
"Indeed, their popularity and transparency in the public sphere was a poor showing, in many ways," Simeon closes the book with a gentle thump, "As the police aristocracy, they were vulnerable to pressures of corruption and their ruthlessness earned them no favors. As a result, you won't hear of too many tears when their house fell. Some of their rivals rejoiced."
"Well, I wouldn't count on rivals for a fair trial," Therese raises an eyebrow, "I don't know... We don't usually hear much about the aristocracy in class... and I am one of them!"
"Hmm, but you are, forgive me for saying, not one in line for the crown, yes? Nor are you an eldest son. Surely, your parents merely plan for you to get married and do not actually teach you of more complex affairs?" Simeon thinks aloud.
Therese looks down a bit, somewhat flustered by his words, "... It... I mean..."
"Nonsense, Therese's parents are extremely invested in her education!" Cyrus obliviously answers, "I'm sure they wish her a bright future!"
"Bright, yes, certainly. However, expectations are different, are they not? Many women are still merely expected to marry well compared to their male counterparts, who are expected to carry and manage entire households," Simeon raises his hands, "Not that I meant any offense. I have heard of plenty of powerful matriarchs who manage their own families and more... but it just does not seem to be what your parents expect of you... and therefore you have not been exposed to the true workings of the aristocracy."
Therese seems shocked at Simeon's words and their implications. Denial dies in her throat as she quickly assesses his statements and slowly finds the truth to them. It's a sobering thing to realize. She had largely been coddled, hadn't she?
"Sending her to academia is a small gesture I have seen," Simeon holds his chin as he leans forward on his knee, "It allows you to enjoy your youthful years before you must devote yourself to a husband and your house name."
Cyrus frowns at Simeon's cynicism, "Therese is free to choose her path, even outside marriage. Why, she could become a scholar, if she so wanted!"
"Mayhaps. Tis better you know this now then, rather than later. For you can still choose what you wish," Simeon gives a soft scoff and smile.
"..." Therese goes and surprises Simeon by taking the Azelhart book from him. She goes to look it through herself.
Simeon chuckles awkwardly and scratches his cheek, "Ah, I'm afraid I've offended yet another young maiden."
"I may not be expected to know a lot... nor am I the best student," Therese speaks up, "But I won't accept those as constants! I am a relative to the Atlasdam crown and I will not simply be a trophy!"
"Bravo!" Cyrus cheers. Therese and Simeon look at him with deadpan expressions and he clears his throat, "Ahem, apologies."
"... hm?" Therese pauses on a certain page in the book, "'Primrose Azelhart?' What a funny coincidence."
Simeon bats an eye slightly. Cyrus glances over.
"See?" Therese turns the book to show them both a family tree within a folded page, "It looks like it was added recently? It's not part of the original book material."
The family tree is a long, rectangular piece of paper that was folded and tucked within the pages of the book. Unfolded its full length, the tree is about four pages long from top to bottom. At the very bottom, where Geoffrey and his wife Dahlia are listed, is also their daughter Primrose. The years for both Primrose and Geoffrey's are listed as ten years ago...
"How terrible... she died so young," Therese sighs, "Come to think of it... What exactly happened to the Azelharts? Felled in one night... some tragedy?"
"From what I recall reading that day," Cyrus rubs his chin, "It was an act of burglary. The perpetrators broke into the Azelhart manor and killed Geoffrey and his young daughter... though the daughter, Primrose... her body was never found. Oh my, it does sound strange when we have a companion sharing the same name..."
The scholar shakes his head.
"That's so awful... I would think that guards or someone could have stopped it..." Therese looks genuinely troubled as she looks at the book.
"You seem to have taken an interest in them," Simeon raises an eyebrow.
"Well... They are one of the Flatland nobles... and I suppose the first step is to educate oneself on their surroundings," Therese closes the book and puts it away, "I think I'll read more on them when I get back to Atlasdam... as well as the other famous figures in Wold's history."
"That is a wonderful idea. As great as this repository is," Cyrus dusts down his breeches, "Atlasdam's archives are second to none in all of the continent!"
"Ah, yes, I should frequent such a spot as well, then!" Simeon declares.
…
The Goldshore Kindling, despite having been an event cobbled together in a short span of time, is a merry celebration of both the Flame being lit and the purging of ailment from the town. Alfyn had become a bit of a known face by then, having run tirelessly to cure those afflicted by Gaborra whooping cough. He also had his own treatment for those who did not manage to have their fevers treated initially.
The Kindling is held in the cathedral, where the mighty flame is housed in the back, with a similar layout to the cathedral of Flamesgrace. Goers amass within the main hall and look on as Ophilia comes forth with the Sacred Ember in the lanthorn. In the fashion of a slow procession, she walks forward, up the steps of the altar. A hush falls when she offers the lanthorn up before Aelfric's flame.
A brilliant flash of pale, warm light bathes the hall as the flames both seem to synchronize and expand in each other's presence. The flame of the cathedral climbs and then disperses, but now burns brighter than when the ceremony had first started.
The ceremony is complete.
Alfyn blows a whistle of congratulations before Tressa pulls him down and shushes him. Ophilia looks a bit nervously towards the crowd as she announces Goldshore's flame has been lit. She calms down a bit looking to her party of friends among the crowd.
"Rejoice!" Donovan declares with a tremulous voice to his flock, "The Goldshore Flame will burn for another 20 years! The darkness will never encroach! We all wish Sister Ophilia the best of prayer that she hasten to fulfill the last flame!"
There is a low, collective "Aye" of assent from the crowd. Alfyn smiles a bit sheepishly.
"And now... let us to the mess hall! We have a feast prepared in commemoration of not only this moment, but also to the health of those now that the plague in Goldshore has abated!" Donovan smiles.
The crowds now mill towards the hall set up to receive them. It's a larger number of goers than the party at Clearbrook, for sure. Long tables are set out for people to sit and eat. Equally long tables manned by the church staff handle the food. It's nothing fancy, but it's plentiful. There are large plates of bread, pasta, tubs of stew, slabs of meat, and pots of simmered vegetables and salad.
"Oh boy! I know that smell!" Tressa takes a big whiff of the aroma as they enter, "That's gotta be bouillabaisse!"
"Bulla-wha?" Alfyn laughs, "You're just making up words, Tress!"
"Am not! It's a fish soup! Real-deal Coastland cooking!" The merchant huffs.
"Hmm! Observe, Therese," Cyrus immediately gets to scrutinizing even at such a moment, "The portions of meat here seem to be the smallest of servings in comparison to the bowls of stew and vegetables. Meat in these non-agrarian areas is a luxury, likely imported. Fish and shellfish are a far more preferable and easy to procure protein in the Coastlands-"
"Professor, do mind to eat before the food gets cold," Olberic interrupts with a hearty laugh.
"My, how mindful of them to have a good amount of vegetables," Primrose chuckles, "A girl simply cannot live off just meat and bread, fufu..."
"Dear Prim, you need not worry on any diet, surely!" Simeon laughs.
"Ah, there you are!" Ophilia comes over after finally getting away from the clergy, "Thank you all again so much for attending..."
"Thou weren wonderful," H'aanit nods. Linde nods in agreement.
"Yes, that was some spectacle!" Therese nods.
"Oh, thank you, hehe," Ophilia giggles, blushing, "Please, do help yourselves to the food!"
"Don't mind if I do!" Alfyn grins as he goes off to get a plate.
"I'm gonna get us some seats first!" Tressa scurries off.
Therion looks around silently. The people around them talk with one another, mill about, find a table... While there are members of the richer district here, a good number are simply lower class. He can even spot Marlene here with her daughters. It seems Ellen got well enough already.
"Ah, yes, I shall inspect the cuisine further!" Cyrus announces as he makes his way towards the serving stations. Therese follows him with an amused giggle.
"Do go on, Olberic," Primrose playfully pats Olberic's stomach, "You worked up an appetite on the beach, did you not?"
"Ah, you both perused the sands?" Simeon blinks.
"It was... a visit to get over some sentiments," Olberic says, awkwardly rubbing his neck. He goes to get some food now.
"It seemeth Tressa hath a table found," H'aanit sees the merchant girl wave to them, "We shallen sitten first."
While no alcohol is served here, there are plenty of juices made from tropical fruits. Even some Knights Ardante help out with the service.
"Hiii!"
The party looks to see Lysa and Daniel wander over to their table. Linde looks unenthused to see these children again, as she has some unfinished meat before her paws. To her delight, though, Lysa presents her with a nice cut of meat.
"Can I feed her? Can I?" Lysa looks to H'aanit with glimmering eyes of eagerness.
"... Tis up to Linde if she desireth to eaten," H'aanit shrugs a little.
"Heehee...! Heeeere, kitty, big kitty!"
Linde snaps up Lysa's offering. The brave little girl giggles and pets Linde as the big cat licks her lips. Linde tolerates her touch this time and gives an appreciative growl.
"Danny! Your turn!" Lysa looks to Daniel, "You got something, too, right?"
The shy boy nods and shuffles to take out another piece of meat. Linde eats that gently out of his hand. He hesitates before gently scratching behind one of her ears. The large cat purrs a little and nuzzles his face. He smiles a little.
"Haha, did you enjoy the extra treats, Linde?" Ophilia giggles.
"Huh, I had no idea Linde was a hit with the kids," Tressa looks over with a mouthful of stew.
"Hehehe, this is great food though. Right, Therion?" Alfyn asks the thief at his side. Therion merely eats more.
"You can see culinary differences in based on what proteins are available," Cyrus is still talking, "The lack of larger land animals and that sort of meat also means no intestinal casings that would be used for products like sausage, which are very popular in the Highland region. However, the seafood is absolutely-"
"Professor, try some bread!" Therese shoves a roll in Cyrus' mouth, much to everyone's amusement at the table.
"I do think this is quite... perhaps one of the best meals I have had in a while," Simeon chuckles, "Ah, I have been on the road too long as a starving artist."
"You should do paintings," Tressa pipes up, "That stuff sells well."
"One does not simply paint, young lady," Simeon laughs."
"It sounds like an endeavor you might enjoy," Primrose smiles, "If you had the proper muse, maybe."
Simeon gives a soft scoff and eats his bread without another word.
…
The night is passed rather blissfully after the Kindling. Nary a person left with an empty stomach and leftovers were dispersed to the needy and anyone else who wanted some. People passed by and said kind words of encouragement to Ophilia and Alfyn.
Through the night, not a person stirred... well, almost no one did.
Simeon slips out of bed, his eyes glowing red. He steps out of the room he shares with the other men and looks down the hall, down towards the room where Primrose is sleeping. He purses his lips and sighs softly before walking out towards the door of the inn.
Outside, the moon is waning. They have a nice view of high tide. He leans back against the front wall of the inn. From the corner of his eye, he sees a raven perch on the corner of the inn roof. He closes his eyes with a smile.
He didn't expect to run into Primrose like this. It was something both a curse and a blessing. Meeting her again... he can speak to her like this... such nostalgia.
However, what she seeks... revenge... And also that power inherited from the Azelharts... She has been using it. He had hoped she hadn't obtained it yet. And she has already mastered it to such a degree.
Well, mastery is a bit of a misnomer in this case. Such dark magic is never truly mastered. It is bargained with. The user is merely a vessel. Even he is... no exception...
But if Prim follows this path... then she will...
The raven lets out a caw and flaps its wings before taking off into the night. Simeon watches some of its spare ruffage flutter to the ground. His red eyes are pensive.
He had gone as far as to murder Geoffrey, only to be foiled. His hand lightly tugs at his snug cravat.
The black bird can be seen flying towards the grotto area closer to the sea. The playwright looks there, considering if he should follow. Mattias should have some foothold out here...
No, he cannot be too hasty. There is still time.
The surge of power within the Caves of Azure was a wakeup call. Prim's power will only grow stronger at this rate. There has to be a way to abate it...
"... I won't let you be devoured by the darkness, my flower," Simeon lets out a sigh into the night. He vowed that he would not lose another muse.
…
Morning comes without much ceremony. The party has to scramble to ready for their voyage to Atlasdam. The clipper ships are one of the few vessels that can properly access Goldshore's piers by skirting otherwise perilous shoals underwater. Larger galleons would be moored trying.
"Alfyn!"
Alfyn looks to see the lively twins Flynn and Ellen run up to him as he waited with the party on the pier. The girls tackle him in a full-body hug while Marlene approaches.
"Hey! You look much healthier, Ellen! That's great!" Alfyn grins.
"Mm, all thanks to you!" Ellen beams.
"Thank you again for all your help, Alfyn," Marlene smiles, "You... really are alright with no compensation at all?"
"Ma'am, it's compensation enough seeing Ellen all healthy and smiling!" He grins, "You take care of them well!"
"Alfyn, take this then!"
Flynn and Ellen hand him a small satchel. He's about to refuse until he opens it to see a variety of beautiful shells like those you collect from the beach instead of coins.
"Oh, wow!" The apothecary exclaims.
"Heehee, we found as many as we could! We know you're poor..." Flynn smiles.
Nearby, Therion and Tressa almost do a spit-take. Primrose and Ophilia glance with slightly exasperated expressions.
"Shucks, this'll keep me fed for a while," Alfyn scratches the back of his head as he pockets the souvenir, "Y'all take care of your mother, you hear?"
"Yes!" The two girls chirp in unison.
"Do you have everything you need for your round trip, Ophilia?" Donovan came to see the cleric off. Lysa and Daniel came as well and are playing with Linde again while H'aanit supervises.
"Yes. I have enough... Thank you, your Excellency," Ophilia bows, "For all your help."
"You shan't thank me, Ophilia. It was the efforts of you and your friends that I and all of Goldshore have to thank," Donovan smiles warmly, "I'm sure Josef is proud of you."
Ophilia blushes, "You are too kind..."
"Alright, people!" Tressa now hollers, "Let's get going! We wanna be in Atlasdam before nightfall!"
Therion looks at Alfyn being all buddy-buddy with the family before waving goodbye and boarding. The thief sighs and looks out with a face of melancholy. The ship crew makes a final call before hoisting anchor and raising sails. Other than them, it seems like few others bought any tickets. This is a relief since this is not a large ship.
"Bye! I'll come back to visit!" Alfyn shouts as the ship slowly departs from Goldshore. On the pier, the family of three and Donovan's little group wave back.
Linde gives a satisfied growl. H'aanit smiles and scratches her between the ears.
"Thou hath found those children fondly, hm?"
Linde snorts.
"My, that was a riveting visit indeed! An entirely different culture from Rippletide!" Cyrus nods enthusiastically, "And now, back to Atlasdam... I must admit that I am quite eager to return to the halls of the Academy... though a little less so with the news I will have to bring..."
"Don't worry, professor, I will support your word every step of the way!" Therese beams.
"It has been quite a trek, hmm..." Olberic sighs, folding his arms and standing against the ocean breeze, "I have never been the Frostlands."
"Well, there is a time for everything," Primrose giggles.
Therion says nothing as the others banter behind. He clutches the bangle on his arm under his poncho.
How differently Alfyn handled things... it's no question... They don't really see eye to eye.
He can't stay with these people at this rate...