Fantasy All's Fair

[Conifer]

“The advisors sorted that out ahead of us,” She assures him. “I honestly don’t know what they’ve sent - likely fruit and local wine - but I’m sure it’s more than alright. It should be already there, or will be within the day.” It hardly mattered what the gift was - it was more a gesture made as formality than something that would be cared terribly about. “We likely should make a stop for supplies today though - not that it terribly matters, but everything costs a good bit more where we’re heading. Tourist destinations, and all that. And the selection won’t be wonderful.” She looks him over. “We should find something more appropriate for you to wear, as well. I’m not sure that I’ve packed you anything quite formal enough, and certainly nothing that will match me.” Remin had forgotten entirely about this when sourcing clothes for him, but there wasn’t much to be done about it now.

“Dancing really is nice,” She admits. “I used to be good at it. It’s been years, but they were some of the lessons I truly enjoyed, and it’s a nice opportunity to get away from being asked about things you couldn’t begin to care about for a while.” She bet it would be even better when dancing with someone she’d actually like to be near.

 

[Aerynth]

Ah, alright. At least they didn't have to care about choosing something appropriate. It seemed a little too impersonal to her, but wasn't that kind of expected of them? They were rulers, not lady Everbright's friends. Besides, Cyreia didn't even know her first name. It was likely that, if she tried to go for a meaningful present, she'd insult the lady in the process somehow. Delegating the task seemed safer. Either way, any thoughts of presents disappeared the moment Remin mentioned buying clothes.

"Formal enough? What I'm wearing isn't formal enough?" Somehow, Cyreia managed to sound a great deal more outraged than when she had been talking about assassination attempts and betrayals. "God. I suppose that it's not truly formal unless you can't move at all, right?" Back in Eupriunia, they had, occasionally, tried to stuff her into ceremonial robes for parades and such. 'Tried' was the key word. Cyreia had only given them a bunch of excuses, each more ridiculous than the one before it, and proceeded to show up in her shiniest armor instead. In time, they had stopped trying. Too bad that this won't work here. "But alright. I don't want to look like a boor," she finally relented. "I may be one, but I don't have to advertise it." At least they didn't have time to get something custom-fitted; she'd simply tell the tailor her measurements and he'd find something appropriate for her. That wasn't particularly dangerous.

"We can make a stop in Thornhold, I believe." Cyreia did know this particular part of the land - she had gotten to know it during the whole Hadsberry affair - and Thornhold seemed like a good place to stock up on some supplies. War hadn't hit it terribly hard, mostly because the city had given up fast and started trading with the soldiers. Eupriunians could have forced them to give up their goods for free, but antagonizing the locals needlessly was never a good idea when there were other battles to be fought, so they had accepted the arrangement. As a result, Thornhold... well, didn't really prosper per se as they had had to sell their goods with a significant discount, but they hadn't fallen into poverty like some of the other settlements. Like Hadsberry and many others. While there wasn't a place in Athea that would welcome the Eupriunian invader with open arms, the residents of Thornhold had no particular reason to shower them with hostility. They had more to lose than they had to gain from it.

"What do you think of grabbing lunch in some inn while we're there?" It seemed, though, that their plans weren't meant to come to fruition. At least not at the moment. As they rode, Cyreia heard a noise in one of the bushes lining the road and, soon enough, a man staggered out of it. He looked terrible; leather had protected him from most of the attacks he had had to endure, but blood was running down his face and one of his legs didn't support his weight properly. "Help," he breathed out.

"What happened?" Cyreia asked.

"Bandits. They've... they've been bothering us for weeks now, the damn bastards. Me and my men are trying to stamp them out and..." Oh. Well, that wasn't too surprising. Wartorn lands always fell prey to soldiers first and then to the scavengers who came to feast on the corpses. Easthaven had merely been their first taste of it.

"How many of them are there? Where is it?"

"Not... not too many of them. Six or seven, but they are no ordinary bandits. And it's close, just behind that hill," he pointed in the direction he was talking about.

No ordinary bandits? Now that sounded interesting. Also potentially dangerous, but how could she ignore a plea for help? A king couldn't do that. More importantly, she couldn't do that. Not when the bandit problem plaguing them had likely been caused by the fact that the invading army had upset the old balance of forces. This, too, was her responsibility. "Remin," Cyreia turned to her wife, "would you take care of this man while I'm gone? I'll leave one of the guards with you for your safety, too."

 

[Conifer]

“Unfortunately,” Remin says, more amused at his outrage at having to dress nicely than anything else, “Clothes borrowed from the staff aren’t quite formal enough for a party hosted by the Everbrights, no. They’re...ostentatious.” That was a kind word for them, certainly, and the fact that she’s understating it is clear in her tone. “But we’ll find you something comfortable. I won’t force you to suffer terribly. Just a little bit, as is my job as your queen and your wife,” She teases.

Thornhold wasn’t far - it would be a smart place to stop, and the fact that he knows that only reminds her of what he’d done in Hadsberry. What else had he done, elsewhere? Was that the worst of it, or simply the beginning? She wanted to know as much as she never, ever did. Allow her ignorance for a while yet. It would all come up in time, surely - if there were other places, then they should likely offer them aid directly as well, if they wanted to redeem that relationship. But that was a task for when they returned home. That was a task for when they ever-growing to-do list they were creating finally caught up to them. For now, “Lunch sounds lo-”

Or not. She shifts off her horse, going with one of the guards to the man’s side to help him into the carriage - somewhere relatively safe to tend to his wounds. “Go,” She nods to Avther, though she wants to refuse him and allow the guards to handle it alone, or order whatever local law to take care of it, but she doesn’t ask that of him. That look in his eyes suggests that it’d be a pointless attempt. “Just- be careful, my soldier,” It’s as much fondness as she can show him in this moment with another person present and the guards fully paying attention to them in this moment, and she can only hope that he hears it in her words. “And return to me with all your pieces as intact as you can manage.” She was somewhat comforted that Thornhold likely had some decent healers - better than her, certainly - and as long as he returned to her, he would be fine. Or…

“Adam,” She turns to the coachman of the carriage they aren’t helping the man into. “Take one of the horses and go on ahead into Thornhold. Find a healer and return with them.” The man would absolutely need someone sooner than later, and then they’d be prepared in the event that Avther was injured. The man nodded, moving from his seat to begin untangling the horse from the cart as Avther left. She watched him go, before heading into the carriage with the man.

“I promise, your bandit problem will be sorted as soon as he’s finished with them.” She smiles politely as she sits across from him. “And we’ll sort you out as soon as Adam returns. What’s your name?”

“Hirret West.” He answers quick enough, and then in this moment of relative peace, looks her over, seeming to realise something. “Are you- you’re the…”

It may have been nice to have gone unrecognised, but this wasn’t Hadsberry any longer. Apparently her title mattered again. “Mm. I am. Remin’s fine, though, please. ”

Hirret nods, before glancing out the window at Avther’s retreating form. “Our new king make a habit of rushing in like that?” He sounds a bit judging, but he’s also very aware that the king is rushing in to solve his problems, and thus can’t complain of it too much.

“He’s certainly trying to.”

As promised, the destination isn’t far - nor are the bandits being entirely subtle about their actions. The man of the house run off, the bandits are making a hurried search through the large home on the other side of the hill. Two of them stand out front, chatting quietly as one of them tends to a horse that had been lightly injured in the fight just before, and the other loading things - candlestick holders, silverware, the like - into saddlebags as others bring it out and toss it into the grass at his feet. Time is of the essence, they seem to be well aware, and so they’re moving quickly.
There’s something distinctly familiar about them, though, even from this distance. The armor they wear is battered and well-used, though there’s a much more intentional marring of the surface across their chest, as if something had been scratched away. To someone who knows the armor, it’s clearly of the Eupriunian military, with the emblem haphazardly removed.

 

[Aerynth]

"I will," Cyreia promised with a tiny smile. The care in Remin's words was palpable; a notable shift from the last time she had ridden off to deal with bandits. Back then, Cyreia had received a command to prevent casualties on their side. Now, though? She worried about her. What a strange concept. Not that she didn't appreciate it - quite the opposite, really - but nobody had ever worried about her per se. Had they wished her success? Yes, definitely, most of the time. Many of her missions had been critical to Eupriunia's long term plans in one way or another. Of course that they had prayed for her to accomplish all of her goals. That had never translated into wishing for her to stay out of harm's way, though. Soldiers just weren't meant to do that. Ultimately, they were there to die for their country. In a way, Cyreia still followed that mindset; it bled through her actions, through the way she always charged ahead. She didn't want to die there, but a small part of her-- expected it, and didn't mind. "Don't worry," she said to Remin despite the grim thoughts, "I'll be back soon."

"Sorry for that," she turned to the guards when they were far enough from the carriage, Remin and the injured man. "I do realize that guarding someone like me must be a nightmare. You probably didn't expect all of this when you signed up for the job."

"Well, given your reputation, your highness, I think that we should have expected it," Tirsi smirked.

"If that's the way you wish to perceive the matter, I won't stop you," Cyreia smiled. They didn't have a lof of time for banter, though. Chatter was a distraction and distractions could easily get you killed when swords were involved. Especially when it came to the swords of Eupriunian soldiers. So that's what he meant by no ordinary bandits, she thought as the oh so familiar armor came into their view. God, would the shadows of her past ever stop pursuing her? Maybe that day would come, but it wouldn't come today. "Don't attack right away," she told the guards with badly suppressed anger. "I need to speak to these people first." Cyreia simply had to know why they did this, why they had chosen to spit on everything the army stood for.

When the two men guarding the entrance noticed them, they grabbed their weapons, but the sight of her caused them to lower them once again. "Commander Avther? Is it you?"

"No, not anymore," Cyreia replied, her voice shaking with anger. "I mean, yes, it is me, obviously, but I am no commander of yours any longer. What are you doing here, Reznys?" Somehow, this turned out to be even worse than she had expected. It wasn't just about them being Eupriunian soldiers; that wouldn't have been terrible enough on its own. No, they had to be men she knew personally. Her men. Technically her former men, of course, but it didn't really work like that. Bonds forged in the heat of battle couldn't be severed by such a formality as her being Athean now. Her subordinates had betrayed their oaths and joined the ranks of those tormenting the Athean people. God. Why did these things keep happening? Had she not stressed the importance of not hurting civilians diligently enough?

"I can explain, commander. This is--"

"Shit, is that Avther?" Another voice asked from inside of that house, sounding both vaguely terrified and shocked by the turn of events.

"I don't know why you sound so surprised, Terran. I am supposed to be here. You, though? I don't bloody think so. Now come out, all of you, and drop your weapons before I make you." Sure, these people didn't have to obey her anymore, but Cyreia believed that they didn't want to get on her bad side. They had seen what she was capable of from up-close, after all. "You said you had an explanation. I'll listen to it, but not while you're still armed. I do hope that it's a very good explanation, though, otherwise I'll fucking lose it." To be honest, she was losing it already; the only thing keeping her from not punishing them right away was her self-control. Well, that, and a tiny hope that there might be an acceptable explanation to this mess after all. The hope was dying rapidly, though. No matter how she looked at it, the evidence seemed to be pretty damning.

"It is," Reznys said and proceeded to drop his sword. The men in his vicinity did the same as more soldiers came out of the house. To her dismay, almost all of the faces were familiar to her.

"Well? Speak. What is your excuse? And don't try to pretend that you weren't attempting to get rich at the expense of civilians."

"I am not going to pretend that we weren't stealing, commander, but we didn't do it to get rich. We did it to help the Athean people."

"What?" Cyreia raised her eyebrow. She had expected brazen lies, but lies of this caliber? Unheard of.

"This man is rich and the people affected by the war aren't. We thought it was only fair to redistribute some of the wealth if he wasn't going to give it up."

Oh. Well. That was a good explanation, provided it was actually true. Still terribly illegal, but it wasn't like Cyreia couldn't see where they were coming from. She herself planned to tax the aristocrats more heavily to fund the restoration of the country. It only made sense, didn't it? "Do you have any proof for your claims?"

"Ask the people from surrounding villages. We've been doing this for weeks now."

God, what a situation. They didn't seem to be lying; the confidence that the villagers would vouch for them was real, that much she could tell. Still, they had deserted from the army and they had hurt the man that had asked them for help. What to do, what to do? Why could nothing be simple anymore? The clock was ticking, though, and she had to make her decision.

"Alright," Cyreia nodded. "Alright. Come with me, then. I'll see if your claims are true and... act accordingly." What exactly did that mean? She had no idea, but hopefully the right solution would reveal itself to her soon enough. "In the meantime, though, you will be considered my prisoners." Her prisoners, not the prisoners of the city. That also meant that, technically speaking, they would be under her protection until the investigation concluded. That would probably cast a shadow on her as well - who was she but a Eupriunian protecting other Eupriunians from the hand of the law? - but so be it. Cyreia wasn't willing to throw them to the wolves without making sure that they deserved it. Perhaps they did, but the matter was too complicated for her to resolve it within a few seconds. She needed time. She needed to hear Remin's opinion as well. The soldiers seemed to understand her hesitation, so they followed her.

When Cyreia returned, she seemed to be tired more than anything else. "I'm back," she told Remin and the man they had managed to save. "The problem has been dealt with, more or less. May I speak with you outside, my queen?"

When they were finally alone, or as alone as they could be under these circumstances, Cyreia sighed. "The problem hasn't really been dealt with. I mean, I got them to stop stealing, but... Remin, hypothetically speaking, what would you do with bandits who help commonfolk?"

 

[Conifer]

It was quicker than she expected, when she heard Avther and the men approaching where they’d left again. The coachman had returned, a healer with him, and she was making quick work of Hirrit’s injuries (which were thankfully hardly more than a twisted ankle and a particularly bloody but not particularly awful gash on his head. His attackers were clearly not aiming to kill him, which left her feeling a bit less worried for Avther. Not a lot, but a bit.)

She’d spent the time with Hirrit hearing the worst of the bandit’s activities - stolen horses, stolen food, stolen knicknacks that had been left unattended. There hadn’t been a real show of force until this day, when he’d returned home early to find them raiding the kitchen for food and supplies. He was...certainly talkative - she barely got a word in once the healer had returned ad he was feeling less winded - and so she was grateful for the distraction and escape that Avther brought with him.

“...That’s...complicated?” Admittedly, she’d never really dealt with that situation. People had, she was sure, but she wasn’t privy to the knowledge of how they’d managed to solve that situation, and here she was at a loss for an answer, and she admits as such. “I don’t know. He’s rightfully upset, but he wasn’t injured badly. I don’t think they truly meant to do any lasting damage, and so I wouldn’t feel right punishing them as if they had. But that’s only one aspect of all of this.” Honestly, Avther seemed to know far more about this whole situation than she did. It felt more logical to share what information she had with him, and see if he had an idea for a solution. It would serve him well to practice at ruling, anyways. “I don’t think that there’s a standard we rely on. If anything, that’s…a noble enough goal.”

 

[Aerynth]

Was it really that simple? Just... judging their motivations to be fair and forgiving every crime they had committed in pursuit of their goal? It certainly seemed tempting. Knowing that they hadn't really harmed people during their quest for justice supported Remin's suggestion of a light punishment, too. Still, could she afford to follow that advice in this case? "Unfortunately, it is complicated. It's not just a problem of what they've done. Even if their story of helping the local people is true - which I don't know at this point - there's still the issue of who they are." Cyreia stepped aside for a bit to let Remin see their new guests clearly. They were surrounded by the guards who watched their every move and that made their armor stand out even more. There had been a clear attempt to disguise their allegiance, but anyone who knew a thing or two about the Eupriunian metalwork could recognize it with ease. Since the people of Athea had gotten to know the Eupriunian army and its aesthetics more than they would have liked to, Cyreia didn't doubt that Remin would be able to pinpoint its origin as well. The former soldiers spoke to each other in hushed voices; they watched them, Cyreia sensed it, but none of them dared to address them directly. At least not yet.

"See? Deserters." In theory, this should have been simple. There was only one acceptable punishment for deserting, and that punishment was execution. The military law spoke clearly enough; those who swore the oath of service could only be released from it by death. Well, death or special circumstances, as it had been in her case, but death tended to be the more common cause out of the two. Overwhelmingly so. The thing was, Cyreia didn't want to follow that precedent, especially if they had indeed decided to risk everything just to help the people of Athea. Deep down, she knew that she had brought them here to avoid having to kill them. To try and find a different way. Perhaps her loyalties blinded her, though.

"Do you want me to introduce you to them? Because I could. I know these people, Remin. They used to be my subordinates, and that is the complicated part. The conflict of interests." Cyreia sighed and put her hand in her hair in a nervous gesture. "You are right that they shouldn't be punished harshly if what they're saying is indeed true, though. We will investigate that, but it changes nothing about the fact that their victim has been wronged. Do you think that he could be appeased if we offered him a compensation of some kind? Who is he, anyway?" Perhaps, if he was reasonable and kind enough, the matter could be solved quietly.

 

[Conifer]

“No one of terrible importance.” She replies, quietly enough that he hopefully can’t hear her while still talking away in the carriage. “A minor lord. He owns a good amount of land around here, but does very little with it as far as I can tell, besides take advantage of people trying to leave more impacted areas and re-start lives.” she didn’t know much of him, but had heard the name tossed around here and there. And he’d talked enough for her to fill in the blanks while Avther was dragging the bandits back here. “We offer him some form of financial compensation and send a note of gratitude in his aid in stopping these bandits, and he’ll be content enough, I predict. But that doesn’t really solve the issue of this lot.” She looks them over, not bothering to hide her inspection. “At the very least, they can’t be allowed to continue this. It’s a noble act, but not a legal one. Theft is theft regardless.”

She turns back to Avther, quiet for a moment. “In the end, I think it truly depends on how much you trust these people.” If he trusted them, then she could think of a handful of things they could do with them. Employ them places that their skills as trained soldiers would be useful. But that wouldn’t do much good if they were simply going to leave their posts and return to banditry as soon as they weren’t being watched. They clearly cared enough about Athea to risk themselves in helping the people recover from the war, and that was a count in their favor. The deserting...were she Avther, were she Eupriunian, her thoughts on that would not be the same as they are now, but she is not Avther or Eupriunian, so that was not a high crime in her eyes. How could it be, if what they did after their deserting was aid her people? It showed proof of morals. “Skilled hands are always useful. But skilled hands that we can’t trust are dangerous.”

 

[Aerynth]

A minor lord? Alright, at least they had picked their target wisely if nothing else. A noble with no real power couldn't really retaliate even if he didn't like their eventual solution. "Yes," Cyreia waved her hand, "let's send him some money regardless of how this turns out. He did lose some property, after all. From what they told me, the raids were a continuous affair." She didn't like what Remin had told her about him, but justice didn't only extend to people she favored. Such justice could not be called justice at all.

"And I don't know how much I trust them," Cyreia admitted. "I used to, but that was before they deserted. Then again, they did follow me willingly. I didn't even have to draw my sword, and some of them insist on calling me their commander still." She would have preferred for them not to do that; not when her former position implied having to follow a certain code of ethics. A code that forced her to execute deserters on sight among other things. Still, it did imply that they considered her an authority and would not. "Perhaps employing them isn't a terrible idea. I'll ask them why they deserted in the first place and see." The reason behind that would be crucial in determining whether they were trustworthy or not. Had they grown weary of endless wars and wanted to start a new life in Athea? That wouldn't be a mortal sin in her eyes. It would have been had she still been their commander, but they had stripped her of that title. Nobody could really demand from her to conform to the military guidelines as a king. Besides, it wasn't like Cyreia didn't understand that desire. It would have been inconceivable in the past, but now? Let's just say that her opinion had shifted slightly, with certain someone at her side. It was funny how meeting the right person could change everything.

"Alright," Cyreia said when she approached them. "Let's say that I trust your story. I will confirm whether it's true or not, but for now, let's focus on something else. I need to know one thing. Why didn't you return to Eupriunia when you were supposed to do so? Did you just plan to sacrifice your careers to help the downtrodden from the very beginning?" Something in her voice implied that she didn't consider that to be too likely.

 

[Conifer]

They look among themselves for an unsteady, awkward moment, silently debating amongst themselves who’s going to be the one responsible for answering for them, before Reznys moves forward, half voluntarily and half volunteered by gentle pushes from the other. “Commander-” He starts, trying to sound sure of himself, but only doing that half well. “With all due respect - you’ve lived here for a short while. You were here with us during the war. Eupriunia sits right with you after all that?” He’s speaking like he’s very well aware that saying that much was dangerous, but he says it anyways. Avther asked for reasons. He was going to get them. “We’ve each got our reasons. But that’s the jist of most ‘em. And Eupriuna didn’t need us. They’ve got enough hands to swing enough swords. There’s not enough hands here to fix the shit we swung swords at.”

“None of us planned on it.” One of the others speaks up. “Not from the beginning, at least. Me, personally, it was...kind of a gut decision. Heard some of this lot was leaving, and I thought - why not me? What’s the point of war after war? So I tagged along. Regardless of what you have to do, I stand by that.”

 

[Aerynth]

"I am not--" Cyreia began, but she decided to drop the issue before the end of her sentence. She had been their commander for so long that trying to get them to accept the new reality would be a pointless task. "You know what, call me what you like. It's not like titles matter terribly. It's still me even though I'm wearing this now," she pointed towards the distinctly Athean clothes. That, of course, posed its own set of problems, but it might prompt them to speak honestly. Despite not shying away from swift punishments when the situation called for it, Cyreia had never been needlessly cruel to her men. She had never been unreasonable, either. If they weren't ashamed of their reasons, they likely wouldn't hide them from her. That estimate of hers proved to be correct.

So that's how it is. Cyreia sighed and shook her head. "No, I... I understand that. That's a good reason. I didn't approve of many things that happened here, either. I still don't." It felt almost surreal, admitting all of this in front of her former subordinates. It would have been unthinkable to allow them to see her uncertainty before; a commander could never doubt the official narrative, least of all in front of people who were following his orders . In this sense, at the very least, becoming a king had brought her some freedom. I wonder how many of the soldiers secretly feel like this and how many of them just swallow the propaganda.

"As I see this, you still committed a crime. Your intentions may have been good, but it was a crime nonetheless. I can't just let you go after all of this. How about atoning for what you've done with service? If you really want to rebuild what's been broken, then nobody will chase you away." They had been right in one thing; Eupriunia wouldn't miss them. Had anyone even noticed that they were absent? They were nameless soldiers, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. "Not when they haven't chased me away yet. You're far less responsible for all of this than I am."

 

[Conifer]

“It’s what we’ve been trying, sir. Sure, not great means, but- no one wants to hire the enemy , so our ickings got slim. And it works. Not flawlessly. But it works. He’s not really missing anything except some pride, and some people get food on the table.” Reznys shrugs. “Can’t speak for the rest, but I’d be happy to do honest work if there’s honest work for us to have.”

“We’ll find something.” Remin promises. “There’s plenty of work to be done. If not here, then elsewhere. Hopefully with our encouragement, we’ll find you some. But you can’t be stealing again. If we hear of bandits-”

“You won’t.”

“Then I can’t imagine that we’ll have a problem.”

“We won’t, ma’am.” Whatever respect they had for Avther didn’t seem extended in the same way towards Remin, but she had a feeling that was more out of unfamiliarity than with intention. Word travelled slowly out in these parts of the country, and she wondered if they even were aware of Avther’s title now. Whatever the reason, she didn’t mind. It was a continued welcome change from the usual, stretched from Hadsberry.

 

[Aerynth]

"We can start with getting you some more appropriate clothes to wear. I imagine that this armor doesn't really inspire a lot of trust with the locals." No armor ever did. That was something that never changed, no matter where she went. Steel only ever conjured up images of violence in the minds of people who couldn't hope to defend themselves against such a force properly. A Eupriunian armor in a conquered land? The connotations of that were even worse. Getting rid of it could only help them in the long run. Not that different clothes could erase all of the Eupriunian mannerisms, but at least they wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb anymore. "Besides, you won't need it for honest work, as you put it."

Seeing Remin speak with those men - her past and her future colliding - felt... strange, yet not unpleasant. Dreamlike. Cyreia was ashamed of many things connected to her past, certainly, but not of them. They were good people and retained their goodness throughout everything that had happened here. Hell, they were probably better than she was. Would she have gathered the courage to do the right thing had she found herself in their situation? Who knew. Certainly not her. It occurred to her in that moment that her former subordinates might not know who they were talking to. It certainly looked like that to her, at least judging by the way Reznys spoke to Remin so casually.

"That's my wife you, you know," Cyreia pointed out gently. "The queen."

"Oh," Reznys said, a flicker or understanding appearing in his eyes. "I forgot you got married in the first place, commander." He finally looked at Remin properly; before, his attention had mostly been consumed by Cyreia, by trying to explain himself. For the first time since they had stumbled upon each other here, he looked sheepish more than anything else. "I wouldn't know how to address you properly, m'lady, but congratulations. God knows we need fewer wars and more weddings." Not that their wedding hadn't been merely an extension of war - its bittersweet end - but Reznys clearly meant well; it showed in his features.

Terran, though? With the direct threat to their lives removed, the man immediately returned to his brazen ways. "Yes, no wonder that you forgot. I never thought I'd see the day myself. Our Avther, getting married? The man was a hermit!"

"Terran!" One of his friends scolded him.

"What? It's true! I've never seen him in the company of anything other than paperwork or swords. I bet he doesn't even know how to treat a woman. Has he already tried to teach you how to wield a sword, my lady? Because I wouldn't put it past him."

 

[Conifer]

The man’s brazenness drew an amused laugh from her - it’s strange to be in the company of people who truly seem to like Avther, and it’s exciting to catch this glimpse of who he was before all of this mess. “Not yet, but at the rate that danger insists on finding us lately, I’ve half a mind to allow him to. You never know where bandits might turn up.” She teases lightly. “And in defense of his honor, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” More than that, far more than that, but polite restraint seems to be what’s called for in the moment. Especially if they were trying to be subtle.

For the first time, the congratulations actually felt nice. She’d heard it before, dozens of times at the ceremony, but only now did it not leave her feeling like it was a terrible joke they were telling her - making fun of her, almost. Congratulations on being wrapped up in all of this, congratulations on your marriage to the enemy - they all knew it was terrible, not something worth celebrating, but said it anyways. Gods, how many things were different since then. It helped, she supposed, when you cared for the partner you were marrying. She turns to Reznys, smiling at him. “Thank you. Very much.” Even if his wording was strange, he was earnest, and that was more than enough to leave her delighted by the interaction. “And please- don’t worry about formality. This is the middle of a road, not a court, and you’re Avther’s companions. If there ever comes a day where I care terribly much about being addressed properly, my ego’s grown much too large.”

 

[Aerynth]

Reznys bowed his head slightly. "I'm glad to hear that, and I wish you many happy years. You seem like a good woman. Commander must be happy to have you."

"Thank you too, Reznys. Your kindness is appreciated," Cyreia smiled at the man. He had always been a bit too direct for his own good, but that wasn't a bad trait to have. "And now that you mention it, Terran, I wouldn't actually be opposed to that. It's only sensible to know the basics of self-defense when we seem to be the primary target of every conspiracy in the country." Maybe it wasn't a terrible idea. Definitely scandalous, true, but since when was she a stranger to creating scandals? Not that Cyreia wanted to make a soldier out of her; no, that would have been going too far. Subjecting her to the grueling regime refined by the Eupriunian army would have also been cruel. Teaching her how to handle a short blade effectively, though? Cyreia saw no disadvantages to her acquiring that particular skill. Guards, as qualified as they were, could never be relied on fully. Leaving your safety in other people's hands always, always carried a certain risk with it. It made one vulnerable in the rare moments of privacy; the incident with Vestat had proved that already. Would there be more threats such as this one in the future? Quite possibly.

"See? See? He's actually considering it. I know that look in his eyes. I apologize for planting that idea in his head, my lady."

"Hey! I'm not a tyrant," Cyreia protested with a hint of outrage in her voice, though her lips curled up in a smile. Terran's spontaneity had always had its way of getting past her defenses, even if she had tried to act more formal in front of her subordinates in the beginning. 'Familiarity breeds contempt," that was what they had said to aspiring commanders. Cyreia hadn't really found it to be true. Perhaps there was a grain of truth to it (if one was contemptible, for example), but treating her men like people had never proved to be a handicap for her. Not once in her entire career. "It's not like I'm going to force her to do anything. I'm just saying that, should Remin want to, that option is there. Well?" she turned to her wife with a smile. "What do you think?"

 

[Conifer]

“I think that it sounds like a worthwhile activity when we return home.” She agrees. The idea of knowing how to use a weapon might have been terrifying, but the idea of being unable to use one if she needed it - which if all this kept up, she might - was worse. It couldn’t hurt, at any rate, to know how to not make an utter fool of herself. And...well, the thought of having a reason to spend time with Avther when they weren’t forced into this sort of proximity anymore was appealing. Perhaps even privately. It wouldn’t due for the staff to see her likely disasterous-at-first training. (They wouldn’t truly care, but...honestly, she would take any excuse to spend time alone with him, titles stripped back, as she could.) “But for now, you’re simply forced to defend me. I’ll try not to make that too terrible a task.”

“I also think,” She shoots Avther a quick grin as she turns away, back to his former men. “That you all must have some interesting stories about him.” She may not know too much of the intricacies of war, but she did know that if you shove enough people in tense enough situations, they bond over and find fun in ridiculous things. She doubted that Avther, in all his apparent dedication to his work, was entirely exempt from that.

 

[Aerynth]

It didn't even surprise her that Remin agreed to her suggestion anymore. Despite her facade of propriety, her wife actually seemed to be quite an adventurous person, even if that thirst for new experiences seemed to be suppressed by her upbringing. How much of this could Cyreia bring to light? It was a bit thrilling, really. The idea of breaking through the shell that had been cultivated by the expectations of everyone Remin had ever known. Wouldn't it be nice if she could be herself with her, if only for a few stolen moments? Cyreia wanted to give that to her. Wanted to give her a lot more than that. "Oh, I think I'll manage. Defending you is the most pleasant job I've ever had, I assure you." Once again, Cyreia didn't manage to be very subtle. Certainly not in front of the men who had known her for years. Other people may have been fooled, but the soldiers? There was no way they missed that warmth in her eyes whenever she looked at Remin; the kind of warmth that had never been there before. Maybe that was fine, too. It wasn't like they out of all people would judge them. Cyreia had a feeling that they genuinely wished them happiness.

"I have so many stories I could write a book, my lady, but Avther would have to kill me then. It wouldn't be good for his precious reputation," Terran smirked. "I can share some of them, though. You're his wife, so you should know what you got yourself into. How about Avther's feud with Cleyn?"

"No," Cyreia started to laugh, "don't tell her about that one! Don't you dare, Terran. I'm still your commander. Shut up."

"You're only my commander when it suits you, eh? Forget about it, Avther. There's no way in hell I'm not telling on you," he smiled deviously. "Alright, so Cleyn. He was another commander, and a real nasty piece of work. He would mutilate his men for failing to obey his orders perfectly and called it discipline. Avther didn't like that. To his credit, he tried to submit some official complaints first, but that didn't work because he didn't technically break any rules. That's when he went on his personal crusade against the man and it was the most hilarious shit. You wouldn't believe the depths of his dedication. Whenever Cleyn went, Avther followed him there to turn his life into living hell. He was always perfectly polite, but also the worst kind of nuisance you can imagine. He kept asking him unpleasant questions, insulting him in indirect ways and, mysteriously, his stuff always went missing in his presence. He'd also sneak into his tent to pour urine into his boots while he slept, stuff like that. He continued with this for weeks until Cleyn finally snapped and attacked him, which, of course, got him demoted and landed him into prison. We celebrated for three days. That's also when we learned that your husband shouldn't be crossed."

 

[Conifer]

Halfway through the story, Remin was laughing more than she could remember laughing in a long while - she expected some sort of fooling around, but nothing so dedicated to causing trouble. That showed how well she knew her husband yet, she supposed, but it was exciting for once instead of terrifying. There was so much she had yet to learn about him. Her life was fairly predictable, she thought, but his? Every time she heard some snippet from his past, it was unexpected. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” she says, delighted with this turn of events. “Next time he starts asking too many questions, I’ll keep a better eye on my things.”
She can’t help but cross the tiny space between them to take his hand and give it a soft squeeze - it was safe enough, she hoped, to show that small amount of affection here. The men seemed genuinely happy for Avther and her, and frankly, she’d simply pay the guards off to encourage their discretion. She trusted them, but offering further incentive never really hurt. They’d be more careful in the places it mattered - were gossip would spread as quick as someone could assume about them, but it didn’t matter here. Not in this road, a good mile from anywhere of any sort of importance.

“This story isn’t anywhere near as thrilling, but we attended a festival, a few days ago, and somehow we were roped into joining the dancing.” Remin says. “He was doing remarkably well, for the first few minutes, and then suddenly I found myself on the ground.” She carefully didn’t mention the magic. She wasn’t sure exactly how far they could be trusted, and was nearly entirely sure that Avther didn’t want that news spread too far. “He’d fallen, and dragged me with him. So there we were, sitting in the dirt, in front of an entire festival. It did wonders for their opinons of us, I’m sure.”

 

[Aerynth]

It should have been embarrassing, really, but Cyreia found herself laughing with Remin and her men instead. She wasn't exactly ashamed of the way she had dealt with Cleyn, even if it didn't fit her image of an honorable man. At times, honor just didn't get things done effectively enough. Thinking like that probably didn't make her very honorable in the first place, but Cyreia could live with that. When Remin grabbed her hand, she just smiled and put her free arm around her waist. If her wife wasn't going to hide their closeness, then she didn't have to hold back, either. It seemed kind of pointless in this situation anyway.

"Oh come on, when has this turned into you exchanging embarrassing stories about me? I thought you were supposed to be on my side!" Cyreia protested, but she didn't sound too insulted. The amusement shone through her fake indignation. The soldiers, too, erupted into laughter when Remin shared her story.

"You got him to dance? I would have paid a lot of money to see that. I feel so envious right now. Then again, you probably haven't seen him drunk and we have. Remember Gael's birthday party, boys?"

"I certainly don't," Cyreia said, trying her best to maintain a neutral expression. As always, she didn't succeed.

"It wouldn't be strange if you didn't remember considering the state you were in. Long story short, some of Gael's relatives sent him a few bottles of booze. It was foreign and really sweet and nobody actually liked it. Nobody except for Avther, who ended up drinking almost everything on his own during the course of the evening. I never would have guessed that he actually had a good singing voice. It was also good that no important people were present because his impressions of certain political figures were both shockingly close to the truth and very insulting."

"They were insulting because they were close to the truth, Terran," Cyreia giggled. "But yes, it wasn't my proudest moment. Not that I have a lot of proud moments."

 

[Conifer]

She leaned into the touch, allowing herself to settle against Avther’s side contentedly. Yes, she’d absolutely have to pay the guards more. If not to keep quiet, than in apology for having to deal with the two of them this whole time and not saying a word about it so far. “When you gave me an embarrassing story to share, my king.” Remin teases lightly. “Careful not to give me more, or I’ll be sure that they’ll hear all those ones, too.”

“Keep you away from sweet alcohol and people we want to like us at the same time, but in the event I want to be serenaded, provide lots of sweet alcohol. Understood.” She laughs, looking towards the men, because not focusing her attention on Avther was what she needed right now if she wasn’t going to push this all a little too much potentially - a kiss to the cheek could be harmless, could be friendly, but not with everything else they were indulging in at the moment. “I’m truly learning so much from you. You’re an invaluable resource.”

“I suppose, though,” She sobers a bit, pulling away from Avther’s embrace, as much as she hates to. There would be time for that some other time - hopefully, at least. “That we should sort this all out and be on our way. We have to stop for supplies at some point, and we risk not getting where we’re going by dusk if we stay here much longer.”

 

[Aerynth]

"It turns out I can't even trust my own wife. What a cruel, cruel world," Cyreia lamented and hugged Remin a bit tighter. They could have this small bit of intimacy, couldn't they? Cyreia would have to control herself during the birthday party, so it was only responsible of her to relish the closeness now, in a moment of safety, instead of suppressing her feelings and letting them overflow later. Yes, it had to do with responsibility, not with the fact that she had already gotten used to touching Remin whenever she wanted to. The rush of happiness that came with every contact they shared had nothing to do with that, either.

"At your service, my lady," Terran beamed.

"Well I mean," Cyreia said, "if you want to hear my singing, I can do it whenever. You don't need to try and get me drunk, Remin. Just don't get your expectations too high. Terran's overestimating my abilities because he himself can't hold a tune to save his life."

"What are you talking about? My talent knows no bounds. If I didn't end up in the army, I would have become a bard."

"Maybe if they needed someone to act as a scarecrow. Other than that? You'd starve," Cyreia laughed. "But yes, Remin is right. We shouldn't linger here for much longer. You know what, lose that armor and go to Hadsberry. You can mention that the king and queen vouch for you - I'll give you the royal seal to prove it - but don't force yourself on them if they aren't interested. I believe, though, that if you approach them with humility, you will be welcome there. There's a lot of work to do, after all. And if they refuse, well, you will still have the seal and that should serve you well in other cities."

"Hadsberry," Reznys said, his eyes growing sad at the mention of that particular name. Clearly, he had been there, too. Of course that he had; those men had followed Cyreia everywhere. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea. Thank you, commander."

"There's no need to thank me. I will still ask around to make sure that what you told me was true and if I find out that you lied to me--"

"Yes, yes, you will find us and your wrath will be great," Terran interrupted her and rolled his eyes. "We have nothing to fear, though, since we've been entirely honest with you."

"I'm glad to hear that," Cyreia smiled gently, "because I'd hate having to punish you guys." That didn't mean that she wouldn't do it, though. Being friends with them - or at least as close to friends as they could be with the massive amounts of power she held over them - was no reason to overlook their crimes. Preferential treatment had always disgusted her to her very core and Cyreia wasn't about to throw away her values.

"Well, I suppose that we only have to deal with our disgruntled lord now," she turned to Remin. "Please, allow me to do so. I should practice talking to aristocrats." It still terrified her that she would spend the rest of her life in a constant power struggle with those two-faced people, but it wouldn't get better if she avoided them. Quite the contrary. No, Cyreia wouldn't run away from her duties.

"My lord?" she asked him as she entered the carriage. "As I've said earlier, I've captured the bandits. They won't bother you anymore, so you're free to return to your home. I'll speak to the healer; I'm sure that he can drive you there so that you don't have to walk."

"Thank you, your highness," the man said. "What about the bandits, though?"

"They... received the king's justice," Cyreia said, hoping to distract him with the vague answer. It sounded menacing enough and it had the added benefit of actually being true, so she didn't have to worry about being too transparent in her lies. "You don't need to live in fear anymore. Moreover, since we understand that they were pestering you for a while, I and the queen will send you a compensation for your trouble after we return from our journey."

That seemed to work; the prospect of receiving compensation from the royal family made him forget about the fate of the bandits. The rest of it was resolved rather quickly. The lord went home along with the healers and the former soldiers headed towards Hadsberry. Not before saying goodbye to Remin and Cyreia, though. They still kept their distance from Remin, only bowing politely in her direction, but a few of them hugged Cyreia out of the blue and it surprised her how great it felt. They couldn't waste a lot of time here, though. Not when they still had to stock up on supplies and - oh, god - buy those goddamned clothes. She was not looking forward to that part of their trip. "Well, that was an... unexpected meeting, but it ended up being rather nice," she said to Remin as they rode towards Thornhold again. "I... have to admit that I didn't think my former subordinates would still like me after our paths diverged. I mean, our lives are so different now. It almost seems unfair." Cyreia hadn't asked for it, of course, but that changed nothing. She was still a king now. Them, though? They would probably spend the rest of their lives doing backbreaking labor.

 

[Conifer]

“They seemed to respect you a great deal,” Remin says, unable to keep the fondness from her voice - though she wasn’t particularly trying to. While he’d done what he had done in Hadsberry was terrible, it was comforting to know that he wasn’t a despot. It was also some small comfort to know that her husband did have friends in the country- she can imagine that she’d be desperate to know that any sort of familiar face exists around her if their circumstances were swapped. “Even if it was surprising and the situation was difficult, I’m glad we came accross them.”

The ride into town wasn’t very long, and before Remin knew it, they were in the decently kept streets of Thornhold. It hadn’t faced the war the same way most cities affected had - making deals with the soldiers rather than being razed by them. As much discomfort their compliance had left her feeling, it had been a smart move for them, and she couldn’t fault them for it. They were still running, still producing goods besides the necessities, and all of that was desperately needed right now.

“Tirsi, Davreth.” She guides her horse to face them at the edge of town. “Can I place you two in charge of stocking up on supplies for the rest of our journey?”

“Of course, my queen.” Tirsi agrees easily, giving her a short nod.

“Thank you. Once you’re finished with that, you’re welcome to do what you like. That goes for the rest of you, too. Help the coachmen tend the horses first, but then your time is your own. We’ll take a couple of hours here.” It was perhaps foolish to send off their guards, but they deserved a rest as much as she or Avther did, and she hoped that they were far enough from the capital that no one here really knew what either of them looked like. They likely wouldn’t be that lucky, but it was a hope regardless. And, anyways, Avther was capable enough. War hero who’d already proven himself able to protect her more times than she’d have liked needing protected, and all that.

“Come on.” She shifts off her horse, smiling at Avther. “Let’s find some lunch and some clothes.”

Lunch was a simple enough task. There were a handful of taverns, cafes, and the like as they walked deeper into the small city - some of them seemingly having altered their menus to adjust to the tastes of the soldiers who had been in and out of here for the past years. Or at least, the cafe that she led Avther into at random had. “Is there anything here worth me trying?” She asks, looking over the small selection of Eupriunian dishes written hastily with the other selection of more familiar dishes available that day.

 

[Aerynth]

The streets of Thornhold were a sight so different to Hadsberry that Cyreia could hardly believe the two towns weren't very distant from one another. It's like a different world. A world untouched by the cruelties of war. Still, she should let the thoughts of Hadsberry sleep for now. Nursing guilty conscience and letting it spoil the rest of the journey wouldn't help anyone, least of all the people who were working tirelessly at repairing the damage she had caused here. The dice had been cast; now they simply had to wait for their decision. That was, of course, the hardest part. Cyreia didn't like not having the chance to influence the outcome of the council meeting, though perhaps something could be gained from enduring it as well. A lesson about the merits of humility.

For now, they might as well enjoy the lunch. God knew that she needed a good meal in her stomach before braving the horrors of shopping for clothes. "Hmm, let's see," Cyreia smiled gently as she looked at the menu board. It felt kind of exciting, really, getting to show Remin something from her culture that wasn't terrible, connected to the war or a combination of both. Her wife had shown her so many things from her own world already, so repaying that favor only seemed appropriate. "Alright, so this," she pointed at the first item on the menu, "is a sweet dish. Basically dumplings made out of potatoes that are filled with fruit, usually plums, and we eat it with melted butter so that it isn't too dry. It sounds kind of terrible when you look at the ingredients, I admit, but it's actually pretty good. I used to reward myself with one of these whenever I succeeded at something," Cyreia said with a nostalgic smile.

"Or perhaps the second item on the menu, but that's only if you like spicy food. It's..." How to describe it to someone who had never seen something like that before? "Well, kind of like bread, except that it has a warm filling inside. A mix of ground meat and vegetables, seasoned with chilli. Also very hearty. That's a running theme with our cuisine." Not all of their meals were like that, of course, but Cyreia supposed that the owners of this cafe had decided to cater to their main clientele: soldiers. Soldiers likely wouldn't appreciate salads.

"And if you aren't feeling adventurous, you can always have a grilled chicken. I don't know anybody who'd hate a grilled chicken, though it is also a bit bland compared to the other choices." So far, nobody seemed to recognize them and Cyreia was enjoying the freedom which came with that. To the other people in the restaurant, they were probably just a young couple.

 

[Conifer]

Remin looked over the menu for a few moments, trying to decide between the options. She wasn’t really a stranger to spice - Athean food didn’t tend towards spicy, but it wasn’t one to shy away from it in certain dishes. But potato fruit dumplings sounded entirely unlike anything she’d had before, and so it’s what she ended up ordering. It was nice to be able to share these benign bits of his life before, even if this whole day had just been a series of happy accidents in that regard.

The two of them sat at a fairly private table in the back corner of the small, delicious smelling cafe. While it was possible that no one would really recognise them, especially dressed in travelling outfits - still nicer than most the things people here were wearing, admittedly, but nothing outstanding - Remin found it silly to invite people to scrutinize them by sitting somewhere much more visible.

“Hopefully,” she says as they wait for their food, “We’re able to find something that can be quickly tailored, and then we can be on our way. If not, and more difficult alterations need to be made, we’ll have it sent to where we’re staying. It should arrive by the time we need it.” Otherwise it would be pointless - but he really could use some proper Athean formalwear in general, so it wouldn’t be an absolute loss.

The food came surprisingly quickly, two plates set down in front of them with little elegance. Gods, she could get used to being unknown like this. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t have the time here for it, but she certainly wanted to.

“These look good,” she smiles, before digging into her lunch - that muscle-memory refindeness still pushing through. “And they *are* good.” Remin beams at him, bright and happy with this little moment.

“What other foods did you enjoy in Eupriunia? Do you have a favorite?”

 

[Aerynth]

"You know, isn't it a waste of money to spend a fortune just to get me clothes I will probably tear apart within a single week?" Cyreia smiled at Remin innocently. Somehow, it sounded more like a promise than anything else. "Of course, I will do my best not to ruin it, but keep in mind that I am not used to wearing clothes that are too tight or unnecessarily frilly. If we get something that is... well, not like that, I should be able to preserve it more effectively."

Cyreia ended up ordering the same food as Remin; when it arrived, she dug into it eagerly. The explosion of familiar taste on her tongue made her smile; god, this really felt like going home. "I told you! Maybe I can cook it for you when we return to the castle. I mean, I haven't really prepared it myself before, but I've seen my mother do it countless times. You just boil potatoes, mash them, add flour and eggs until it starts looking like dough, wrap some fruit in it and then you boil it again. It can't be that difficult. Maybe I could try using some Athean fruit for it, too." It seemed like an unlikely prospect, of course. Their duties wouldn't allow them to waste time in the palace kitchen. Still, she could daydream, couldn't she? Daydream of a simpler life that wasn't bound by endless rules; a life where they could be people instead of living symbols. Who knows? Maybe we will enjoy something like that later, when the situation isn't as dire.

"Honestly, I'm not a picky eater," Cyreia laughed. "I wouldn't be able to survive on military rations if I were. I was mostly satisfied with anything unless it contained mushrooms." She made a disgusted face at the mention of that word; no cook, no matter how skilled, had ever managed to prepare mushrooms in a way that didn't make her want to barf. It had to be the slimy structure. "If I had to choose one meal, though, then I'd definitely pick stuffed peppers. God, I haven't had them in ages. It's nothing fancy, but it's really, really good. You stuff raw peppers with rice and some ground meat and then you cook it in a tomato sauce until it's tender." I really should have brought a cookbook because I'm going to miss some of these things.

"I'm sure that this has to sound terribly basic to you, though." Not that Cyreia blamed her. It was basic, mainly because her tastes hadn't really changed from the times she had been a poor villager. Old habits died hard and all that. "What did you eat at the castle? I imagine that it was much more refined than what I'm describing." Despite the content of her words, Cyreia didn't sound bitter; more than anything else, curiosity was apparent from her voice.

 

[Conifer]

“No,” She murmurs, reaching across the table to take his hand. “No, it sounds really nice. Not basic at all.” As much as she had been determined to the time to spend some time in the kitchens when they returned home after Hadsberry, she was even more determined now. Tucked away in the warm room with Avther sounded - well, it sounded familiar, for one, but she doubted anything of that sort would happen. Kitchens were far less suited to acting like fools in love than tucked-away washrooms. For two, it just sounded nice. Another excuse to see him, and spend time with him - the two of them simply who they were, and not as titles. There might not be time for it soon, but there would be time. She’d make sure of it.

“I don’t have nearly as many fond memories around food as you, I think,” she admits. “But the food was always good. Our cook - she’s been with our family since as long as I can remember - is incredible. The only thing she could never get me to like was- well, there was this awful trend of everything everyone ate being encased in aspic. People were using it to preserve food, but then of course the nobility got ahold of it, and suddenly it was all anyone would serve. Gods, it was awful. I couldn’t stomach it, even if I avoided the aspic itself. She’d sneak proper food up to my room after dinners, though, so I managed not to starve to death. Your childhood meals sound much, much better than that.”