Something was wrong with her daughter. After the fright she'd had with Owain, Ranni was not being herself. The way she watched Rennala was unnerving, a mixture of subdued panic and quiet sadness. The queen's eyes lingered on the princess' back as she shuffled off once more to her tower after their midday meal. Ranni had been obsessively tearing through some secret research since their return from Raya Lucaria
Owain too, was not being forthcoming, which was quite irritating. Usually the man would simply answer her questions earnestly and without restraint, as was his nature. Now though, he only told her that he could not explain himself quite yet. His brow had been so furrowed in rumination of late, she feared it would be affixed in place permanently.
Rennala wished she could at least consult Iji, but her councilor and wolven child were still abroad in search of some 'special' ore. She had even questioned quiet Tanya, but the woman was, as ever, far too enamored with Radahn. She'd only recounted that Owain had gone off on his own, with Ranni following after tearing the manor apart in a frantic search. The queen pinched her brow, sighing heavily. She despised being purposefully kept in the dark like this, but she understood why they felt the need to…coddle her. Rennala was nigh hale but even still, little moments would steal away her senses. She would absentmindedly call for Radagon, or find herself cradling the horrible amber without meaning to. She crept ever closer, but was not quite…there.
At least Radahn was convalescing nicely. She brushed her son's vibrant hair from his face. Only half a moon more and she would wake him; only half a moon more and she would finally hear her little lion's voice again. She kissed his cheek with a broad smile. Only one son left to save, and all her children would be returned. Ranni still would not tell her of Rykard's current condition, but Rennala gathered it was just as, if not more, macabre as Radahn's had been. Must all her children be so incredibly prone to danger?
Owain was to set forth to Caelid anew on the morrow, which meant that Ranni would follow. Rennala was glad that she'd had the foresight to have Iji refit some of Rellana's old armor for Ranni. It was a tad disorienting to see the visage of the Twin Moon Knight of her youth, but Rennala was sure Rellana would be much joyed to see her niece so well protected. Not for the first time, did she mourn her little sister's hasty nature, it would have been uniquely comforting to her to have Rellana at her side, instead of wasting her life in that realm of old death and veiling shadow.
Ranni was not the only one of her children that she was having newly outfitted. Rennala was certain Radahn would go off to battle as soon as she let him, so his armor was being repaired. Ever reckless Owain as well, needed protection beyond that of one of his knights. She hoped he would like the present she was preparing for him. It was originally intended to be a wedding gift, but given the state of things, he and Ranni's official wedding would likely not take place for some time yet.
Rennala bade the two farewell to Caelid with thinly veiled concern.
The war encampment he had constructed outside of Redmane castle was oddly subdued at their arrival. Oswald met him at his tent, face dour. "What is it, Os?" He asked lowly as he ushered the still somber Ranni through the entrance.
"A few incidents that I have seen to. Also a…" Oswald paused before the tent entrance, Owain wondered at the wringing of his hands. "A sentinel has been accused of committing a grave crime, lord." Owain cast his eyes about the camp, none of his men would meet his gaze.
"Grave?" He said, nodding his head to the tent, ushering in his squire and princess.
Oswald cringed, clearing his throat nervously. "Several score of the lesser knights and footmen began behaving quite crudely to the Redmanes and causing other problems besides. The loss of my lady's cooling magic seems to have raised tempers. Ser Jerren and I have dealt with those men." Oswald clasped his hands behind his back, a nervous habit he'd picked up from Owain himself.
Owain fussed with the blankets atop the chair he'd sourced from the keep, kissing Ranni's temple as she sat gratefully. "Out with it Os, enough dallying. What has this sentinel been accused of?" He said as he came to stand before his friend.
"The rape of a woman. Sev-several times; and the assault of the woman's sister. I placed him in the castle dungeon ere your arrival. I am almost certain of his guilt but…" Some of Ranni's fire returned, he watched her eyes widen in rage as her fingers gripped the edge of his war table. Their expressions were of matching fury.
Owain did not bother to hide his scowl. "Bring them to me, sentinel and accuser."
Oswald returned quickly, a petite woman of plain, stained, work cloth at one shoulder; one of the freshly promoted sentinels from Stormveil at his other. Aldo had raised him to sentinelship only perhaps a week before the Caelid campaign began if Owain remembered correctly. Owain knelt before the cowering woman, that they would meet eye to eye. "May I have your name, lady? I am Owain."
"I am no-not a lady, lord. My name is Br-Bronwyn. I am a cook, lord." He could feel Ranni's burning gaze at the corner of his senses. For now, she was remaining silent, but he knew what she would propose without asking.
The accused sentinel stepped forward. "My lor-"
Owain raised a hand. "Be silent, Archibald, unless I bade you speak." His voice was soft, he did not wish to frighten this shivering woman any further. "These are serious accusations you levy at one of my sentinels, Bronwynn. Have you proof of the misdeed?" He winced at Ranni's warning look, evidently his voice was not softened enough.
Her shoulders hunched and she wrung the tattered apron at her front. There was a heavy pause before her response. "No, Highlord." He did not miss the way Archibald's shoulders relaxed slightly.
Owain pressed on gently. "But still, you would affirm that this man is he who wronged you?"
After taking a deep breath, the woman nodded resolutely. "Aye, lord. And gravely hu-hurt my sister beside." Owain softened his expression at Bronwynn's look of fear.
"Has she been tended to?" He kept his clenched fist behind his back.
Bronwynn nodded, face downcast, slow tears dripping from shadowed eyes. "She tried to pr-protect me, lord. Ser Oswald healed her injuries personally." Owain met eyes with his squire who nodded curtly. The injuries of her sister could be unrelated to the alleged crime, but there was simply no way a woman of common birth, who was courageous enough to go forth on the Caelid effort, would accuse one of his sentinels falsely. Not when it would cause her endless hardship should she be proven wrong.
"What say you, Archibald?" Owain rose, turning to face the accused.
Archibald flung his hands about vehemently as he spoke, Owain noted with rising anger, the way Bronwynn flinched, noted the purpling bruises under the long sleeves of her dress. Why were they yet untended? Had she not shown Oswald? "I've never seen this woman before in my life, my lord. She is lying! Pray, you must believe me, Highlord!" Archibald met his stare in shifting glances.
Owain locked eyes with Ranni, who nodded angrily. Then, they were agreed. "I am quite skilled in the magic of memories. I wouldst see the truth of it, sentinel." Ranni rose from her seat to round the war table, slender arm curling around Bronwynn protectively.
Archibald scoffed. "Surely this is-"
"Necessary." Ranni nodded. "Thou'rt right that so serious a crime must have no doubt as to its circumstances. Though, if thou'rt so reluctant, I need not inspect thy mind. Bronwynn's wilt serveth well enough." She too knelt to meet the woman's level, who stood on shaking legs but whose eyes burned hot with righteous indignance. "May I, Bronwynn?" At the woman's nod, Ranni began; hand alighting gently on the cook's brow.
Archibald had turned quite pale, and his eyes kept flickering to the tent entrance where Oswald stood in silent guard. After only a few moments, Ranni pulled away from Bronwynn, nodding darkly to Owain; her lips were downturned in deep displeasure. The commander sneered in disgust, glaring down at Archibald. Foul rage fired in his gut; harsh and searing and malevolent. "Never has one of my sentinels committed so heinous a crime." He took a step forward, leaning his face into Archibald's who cowered silently. " Never has one of the golden rampart, they who should inspire only hope, carried out such a sin." The desire to snap the man's neck where he stood was so tempting, the urge to give into the braying of the two runes within him pressing and nigh all consuming. "Your oaths of righteousness, of kindness, of service and truth! All worthless!" Owain breathed passed the pressing madness with a rumbling growl. He must mind the runes.
The man dropped to a groveling bow, face indented into the rotted dirt. "Please my lord, this land is just so desolate, I only sought some semblance of comfort, I th-thought Bronwynn reciprocated my feelings!" Bronwynn herself finally broke into frustrated tears, Ranni embracing the woman to her chest in silent rage. Owain could read plain the wrath of his wife as their eyes met above Bronwynn's head.
It was only through great power of will that Owain did not roar his words at the creature before him. "I will give you a choice, wretch. My justice, or hers." He turned to Bronwynn. "Whatever you so desire his punishment to be; I will make it so, Bronwynn." She nodded mutely.
Archibald sat back on his heels, regarding Owain in rising fearfulness. The punishment for such a crime among the lower ranked of his forces was typically thirty lashes, long term imprisonment, and the loss of any rank or title. That was for lesser knights, Owain had not spoken false before; none of his tens of thousands of tree sentinels over many hundreds of years had ever committed such a crime during his tenure as Lord Commander. It was simply unheard of, they were the best of the best, the most noble, most devoted, most righteous of all men. This was a dire shame this fresh recruit had brought upon his order. Should Archibald choose Owain's justice, he would execute the man after forcing a public admission and apology. He wondered if such intentions could be seen on his face.
The condemned's gaze turned from glowering commander to sobbing victim several times before he cried out his answer. "I-I would face Bronwynn's punishment, Highlord!" Did he think she would be gentler because she was a woman?
Owain regarded him coldly. "As you wish." He forced his breathing to slow. "Oswald!" His squire stepped forward. "Gather the men, strip this one of his armor." He ignored Archibald' pleas for mercy as Oswald escorted him away by the scruff.
"What sentence would you give him, Bronwynn?" Ranni questioned gently.
The tent was deathly quiet apart from Bronwynn's sniffling. "D-death!" She whispered harshly. "Death and castration!" Her eyes found Owain's. "Please, great lord, I've heard tale of your might from so many mouths. I beg you, beat him down to a final, ignoble end, that he may feel the same fear an' shame that I and m-my sister did!"
Owain met the woman's fierce eyes squarely. "Do you wish for an apology?"
She shook her head, gaze bitter. "T'would mean nothing."
"Your will shall be done, good Bronwynn." He bowed lowly. He could not reverse this trauma or this new shame for him to bear; but he would alleviate what grief he could. "I offer my most heartfelt of apologies at the crime one of my soldiers has done unto you. I will see you gain restitution, you have my solemn vow." He straightened, Bronwynn staring at him in mute shock.
At Ranni's nod, he left the tent. Owain knew she would see to the woman better than he ever could. For ever was she the height of grace to his bumbling oafishness. He heard the beginnings of a preposition from his wife for Bronwynn and her sister to join the staff at the manor. Trust her to rouse herself from her own malaise in the defense of another. Her heart was more just than she realized.
Owain stood in a vast circle of his sentinels, shields held forward, visors down. Archibald would find no aid from his former brothers. Ranni and Bronwynn watched the proceedings from the remains of a decaying platform behind him. Owain had doffed his armor and left his shield and halberd in his tent; keeping only his erdtree's seal. Bronwynn had requested that her rapist meet an ignoble end, and Owain would see it carried out in full brutality.
He sneered down at the freshly castrated man who was curled in a ball before him. They'd been too pressed for recruits, a man of low quality had slipped through the quickened process. Owain would ensure he did not make such a mistake again. "Sentinels!" He bellowed, red dust billowing forth from his feet. "Before you is one who would stain the great honor of our most noble order. This man, Archibald, is guilty of the crimes of rape, assault, and perjury. In lieu of my justice, the wants of his victims will serve. She has demanded he be castrated and beaten unto death most shameful." The cowering man sobbed in fear at the realization he would not be spared his life.
The hundreds of circled sentinels called out for Archibald's end, the clang of armor against shield was deafening. Owain let it build to a vibrating cacophony before raising a fist.
"I strip you of your title of Sentinel of the Erd Tree, I take from you your peerage and knightage entire. I strike from the records of our order, your blighted name, and hereby bar any of your line from ever again achieving a place among my sentinels." Owain walked forward slowly, each step a dull thud.
Archibald clambered into a crooked bow, shaking hands held high in frantic supplication. "Please, Highlord! Pray, grant me mercy! Find it in your noble heart to spare me this dishonor!" His voice was horse from pain, his once handsome features had been clearly marred by repeated blows. Owain suspected his brothers had already begun the work Owain himself would finish.
"Rise, cur! Your only chance at survival lay in my defeat. Face me with courage, that perhaps you might not be looked upon so harshly after your death."
Owain halted an arms length away from the craven, glowering at him in scalding judgment. The monster stood, raising trembling fingers to Owain's shoulder, looking at him with watery eyes. "My lord, I beseech you, mercy!"
Owain's first strike sent the man into the shield wall at his back with a resounding crack.
The commander cast a greater heal, wordlessly.
Archibald sprung to his feet, freshly mended and at last realizing his cries for mercy fell on deaf ears. When the man made to strike Owain in defense, Owain tore the offending arm clean from its shoulder, striking Archibald in the face with strength enough to break his jaw.
He cast another spell of greater healing.
What followed was a spectacle of violence that he was sure would be oft spoken of by those forced to bear witness. There would not be another case such as this. None among his host would again dare. He had hoped he might lead only through example, but it was clear that some measure of fear was yet required. Owain had been too preoccupied, he should have paid closer attention to the new recruits they had been too hastily training. This was a punishment for him as well, a reminder not to be blinded by indolence.
At first the disgraced had again tried to flee, but his brothers had rebuked his every attempt with mighty bashes of their greatshields. He then tried to fight Owain in earnest, but what was he to do against the wrath of his commander?
That had been hours ago. The circle of combat was silent now save for the wet thuds of Owain's fists striking against the flesh of a long defeated Archibald. Through it all, Bronwynn's eyes did not wander. He hoped this brought her some measure of satisfaction and closure, meager as it was in comparison to the horror she had endured.
He cast another greater healing spell with the last of his mana.
Archibald lay limply on the ground, convulsing and twitching mutely in uncomprehending terror. "Do you wish to die on your feet, Archibald?"
Glassy eyes stared at him blankly, the man's mouth was agape, drool seeping upon his face. Owain spit on him in disgust before spearing a hand through his chest and wrenching forth the man's black heart. He flung it upon the rotted ground before turning his gaze to the unmoving wall of gold around him. "Sentinels! Beg the wronged's forgiveness!" As one, the hundreds of his golden troops that had stood silent, bowed deeply to Bronwynn. "Does this justice please you, Bronwynn?" The woman nodded, face stony, hand gripping Ranni's tightly. Owain slammed a fist to his chest as he too bowed before once more addressing his sentinels. "Never again will our order falter or stray, dare not let the sting of this shame leave your hearts!" His shout was a ragged thing that boomed out over the red hills around them.
The men shouted out as one, faces still towards the ground. "Yes, Lord Commander!"
"It is done!" He eyed the corpse of the traitorous craven dispassionately, the runes within him sated at the violence. Perhaps in his next life, Archibald would be a worthier man. "We set forth on the morrow, prepare yourselves!"
He was bathing himself in contemplative silence when he felt Ranni's gentle hands upon his back. She took the washcloth from his grip with a low sigh. "I sometimes forget thou'rt capable of such brutality, husband." The first words she'd spoken to him in days and they were damning.
He grimaced, hanging his head. Owain too often lost himself in the simplicity of violence, the duality of his sense of right and wrong. Long had he seen himself as a tool of justice. Though…would that he could be anything save for a cruel cudgel, unsightly in its use. She had never said the words, but he was terrified she looked at him as a man who should be…feared. "Ranni, I-"
"It is comforting to me, Wain." Her motions against his back were supremely gentle. "For I too, am capable of great brutality. I ever worry thou wilt look upon me one day and see true, mine nature most malevolent. That thou shall see the beast in me and turnest from mine side."
He huffed a weak laugh, they truly were of a kind, weren't they? Their thoughts so symmetrically aligned. "Is it my mind you speak, or your own, wife?"
She worked lather into his hair with warm water, he heard her step into the small bath he'd had brought to their quarters within the keep. "Mine own. Thou'rt my guiding light, splendidly warm and blindin'ly bright." She took a shaky breath. "It is mine most deeply held fear that one day thou shalt abandon me afore I canst escape this all encompassin' night of mine. That thou shalt forsake me just as mine fath-" Lithe arms reached around his torso, her face against the curve of his back as she loosed a frustrated sob.
"Ranni, I'd rather die than part from your side, you know that." He turned slowly, wrapping her long legs around him that they might sit face to face. He wiped away the fresh tears on her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
She steadied her breath with an annoyed huff. "Since regainin' my body, I hath been so weepy. Tis frustratin' beyond belief." She lay her arms about his shoulders and her brow to his. "Such emotion takes me, and tears springeth forth in times they shouldst not. My wrath, my love, my hate; all overwhelm me. It has been so long since I held a heart, this frantic beating is yet hard to conquer." Ranni pressed slow kisses to his lips and cheeks. "I lovest thee with my soul entire. Forgivest me mine…outbursts, Wain. I shalt settle into this flesh soon."
He kissed her back languidly, smiling into their shared breaths. "There is nothing to forgive, Ranni. I am no stranger to a loss of composure." He chuckled. He sensed she still held something heavy in her chest, Owain hoped this rekindling would start the process to see it put forth into words. He winced as the cleansing lather she'd put in his hair flowed into his eyes. "Prithee, great witch, save me." She hummed in mock consideration as she scooped water atop his head, attempting to muster some bit of levity.
Just like that, her melancholy had shifted to something lighter. He was glad to have her almost back to herself, these past few days had been torturous. The weight on his mind since discovering the finger's plot and his Queen's hand in his resurrection was a far away thing indeed as he made careful love to his princess in the too-small bath.
That evening, they sat entangled on a sofa in Ranni's quarters within the keep. She read some moldering text on masonry, whilst he went over Oswald and Aldo's piled reports. All of Caelid had been reclaimed save for the dragon barrow, and the ancient sanctum to the north. The place of blooming, he had bade his men skirt around. Without proper warding, he'd only lose his soldiers to the concentrated rot. He would go forth there himself while half of his men further reinforced Sellia. The other half, he would be redeploying back to their former posts now that the rotted land had been so thoroughly culled of undead or addled men and beasts. The redmanes could handle solving the problem of purification properly now, without so many deadly adversaries at their throats. Owain had begun to worry of the state of Liurnia, Limgrave, and Mourne without the constant presence of his sentinels.
"Wain." Ranni asked, fingers toying with his beard. She seemed to be forcing nonchalance for some reason. "I know I hath never asked in full, but I wouldst know it now. The queen; what say she exactly when she took my father as second elden lord."
He blinked at her owlishly for a moment, unsure if he was ready for yet more turmoil this day. "Lord Radagon-" The memory of it took him suddenly, the vehement argument he'd had with his queen.
Reginald dared to try and impede his entry to the queen's chambers. "Wain, she said not to allow you to pass unt-"
"Out of my way, Reginald." He bit out. He could hardly keep the fury from his voice. Just what was the queen thinking?
Reginald straightened his stance. "Owain, the queen herself bade me forestall you." Owain was done talking, he picked up his vice commander by the waist, and deposited him, still voicing his unheeded warnings, beside the massive door that led to the queen's chambers.
Owain strode through, trying to mind his expression. A startled Alecto made to stand in his path before he heard the queen call out from her place at the balcony. "It is fine, Alecto, Reginald. Givest us the room." She turned toward him as the door clicked shut with heavy finality. "I know why thou hast come, Wain"
He knelt, eyes fervent and pleading. "Then you know what I shall ask, my lady. Please, why have you ordered Lord Radagon to the capitol? Why would you take him as your new lord? I beseech you, reconsider!"
She was silent as she walked to his front. She would not look him in the eye and it unnerved him. "The fingers-" His queen paused. "I am in need of more heirs. Trueborn of godly blood thick enough to-" She clicked her tongue. It was unsettling, odd to see her stumble over her words. "I am loath to shatter the Carians, Wain, but there is no other else fit to aid in the birthing of such that I seekest."
Heirs? This was all for heirs? She had three noble sons already! Godwyn and Lady Fortissax had children of their own! "Are the princes not enough, my queen?" He looked up at her imploringly; her eyes finally met his and they were startlingly cold.
"No, Owain. They are not. They hath not what I yet search for, despite mine hopes that they wouldst come to."
"Then surely there is a lord that yet lives that could suffice!" He rose from his kneel in his passion. "Surely one that is not- not Lord Radagon!"
She stepped towards him and he backed away. "Who then, Wain? Who among all the men in all mine order is fit to sire a god?" He swallowed nervously at the intensity of her gaze, at the lightning and wrath that crackled just beneath the calm surface. She jabbed a pointed finger into his unarmored chest, looking down at him. "Thou, Owain? Mine brightly burnished highlord?" She laughed frigidly. "Thou'rt the scion of an ancient line, thou'rt possessed of quality beyond most mortal men. Should I taketh thee as mine second lord?"
His heart was beating so terribly fast, before him stood his queen; in all her might and glory and scalding divinity. Before him stood a choice most punishing. He met the gaze of his goddess, hiding his trembling hands behind his back. He feared Queen Marika was correct, he could not name a lord that compared to noble Lord Radagon, not even close. Only Lord Godfrey surpassed him; but the great lion was long banished, much to Owain's eternal confusion. What should he do? Did he offer himself in place of Ranni's father? It would…Ranni would survive her father's departure, but were Owain to abandon her to sire children with the queen ; he feared it would spark true war from her.
His lady had yet to look away, face set in prescient resignation. "I…I can not, my queen." He murmured, finally breaking free from the golden prison that was her stare.
Queen Marika breathed out, low and smooth. Her hand alighted on his arm, more tender than he'd expected. "I knowest what halts thee, old friend. Though I shalt not name her." She turned from him, offering only the silhouette of her sculpted face against the lowering dusk. "Nay, Wain. I am cruel for placing such a false choice upon thee. I canst not escapest mine duty, canst not now turn from my path. Radagon possesses…He alone is needed, my knight. Much grief do I cause with this choice, I know this; but it is one that need be made. For the good of the many, Wain." She linked slender hands behind her back. Something about the manner in which she spoke the last line made his stomach sink.
Owain felt as a lowly pest. Such deep sorrow from his queen and not a thing he could do to lessen it. Such horrible strife was to come to his betrothed and his hands were forced in anguished idling. Anger, despair, confusion; they warred in his heart. He knelt hurriedly, bowing his head slightly that she might not see his feelings upon his face. "Forgive my outburst, my lady." The sentinel said softly.
"Thou alone art ever forgiven, Wain. Forgiveth me for using thee as mine conscience." She turned at last to him and he only just held back his gasp. So heartrending was the despair on his queen's face, the cornered desperation; she'd never looked more human. "Prithee, commander. Leaveth me to mine thoughts awhile."
As Owain exited with a low "Yes, my lady." He only just realized that the queen had named him friend.
"-Wain?" He breathed in deep as he was thrust once more to the present.
He massaged his temples, the sensation surely never got easier. "She-she said that there was no other lord fit to bear the heirs she sought."
"That is paraphrase, my dear. I bade thee sayeth her words exactly. Showest me the memory, that I might inspect it." At his pained expression, she continued. "I wilt not become angry." He must not have looked particularly convinced. "I wilt try not to become angry."
"I will show it to you then." He said hesitantly. Their brows met for only a moment before she pulled back, face carefully blank. He noted the tenseness of her hands around her book, his eyes traced the straining muscles of her throat. His princess was distraught, but doing her best to remain calm. Owain lay a hand on her knee. "Ranni?"
She sighed, forcibly releasing the tension in her hands and jaw. "That woman, Alecto." Ranni's voice was a chilled murmur. "In her memories, there was a sculptor."