Fantasy All's Fair

[Conifer]

Remin allowed her whatever silence and time she might need, more than comfortable with laying, unspeaking. It was anything but quiet; soldiers began returning from the field now, and the camp that had been relatively still was beginning to fill with life again. Men chatted, their voices drifting in and out as they walked past the tent. Their shadows stretched strangely against the light that filtered in, growing taller and shorter with the edges and curves of the tent as they moved on, oblivious to what they'd find inside if they did so little as shift aside a bit of fabric. She ran her fingers through Cyeria's hair in a slow and intentional pattern, stroking blunt nails against her scalp as if idly petting some animal. They should look into getting a dog again. That might be nice. Something large that could keep away terrors, both real and imagined. A discussion for a later, though, when they didn't have too much on their plate already. "Of course." Remin murmurs, when Cyeria draws Remin back out of her thoughts with a quiet word that isn't hard to understand means more than that. She leans in to press a kiss against Cyeria's head, and that, too, means more than an idle kiss against her hair, even if Cyeria doesn't read more than that into it. It's...a promise. An offering. Perhaps one or the other, or perhaps both - it was definitely, at least, an assurance.

Remin nods. "...well," She says, and as much as she just wants to allow this meager time between them to be all softness and silence and tender kisses, there...is really not time for that, is there? They could have some of that. Softness, and work. Tenderness, and discussion. "What do you think they might want? Consider not just what they might want from the beginning of the conversation, but by the end, too. It'll probably change, as the admission is going to change the dynamic a good amount. And what will they expect? How can use use that?" It would be simple enough to offer up a handful of solutions, but this, too, was a battlefield, and so Remin would subject him to this game of lessons as he had done to her earlier before.

 

[Aerynth]

It was only fair, she supposed, that Remin hadn't given her the answer immediately. Cyreia hadn't done that earlier, either, and she did know that her wife was trying to teach her how to navigate these situations. That didn't make the solution any more obvious to her, though. "Oh come on, is that any way to treat your love? I just returned from the battlefield, you can't expect me to be able to think clearly," she chuckled. "No, no. I'll try, just give me a second."

Alright, think. What will they want? There were many things a noble might want from a king, but all of them related to power somehow. Money, titles, promises of favor, destruction of their enemies. "Well, I suppose that not telling them that I hid my identity from them because I was afraid they wouldn't listen to me would be a good start," she laughed and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'll just say it was a safety concern, which should sound reasonable enough considering what happened to you. As for what I might give them to placate their anger... hmm. I'm not sure whether shiny new titles would be a good idea here. I mean, it would probably be fine in Athea, but Werough? These people seem to look down on the rest of the country, so I don't think they'd consider it to be an honor." What would work, then? What did they value the most? Their gods, though it wasn't like Cyreia could take advange of-- oh. Maybe she actually could do that, in a way. Hadn't Wellan gathered the support for his rebellion partially because of the anxieties revolving around a Eupriunian on the throne? A Eupriunian that might not respect their gods?

"Instead of that, I could show them that I'm not the enemy they think me to be. I could-- tell them that what I witnessed on the battlefield changed me, and that I found the true faith. As such, I could promise to build a new shrine to commemorate the day the gods saved us all. Also, I don't know the details, but Velka seemed to think that the arrangement between Athea and Werough is unfair. So, I could ask them what exactly bothers them about it so that we could work out a compromise?"

 

[Conifer]

"We definitely need to work out a compromise." She agrees with a soft, rather humorless laugh. They'd ended this mess, but that didn't mean that it couldn't start back up again at the slightest provocation. Gods, even the soldiers coming to some petty disagreement kick it off once more. Hopefully they were too tired and stunned and uneager to fight for that to happen, but it could. They needed to officially end this mess sooner than later. "Otherwise, you're on the right track - but there's a difference between letting them think they have what they want and actually having to give them something. Your ideas would most likely work, but it...gives them power. Which is sometimes good. Occasionally it might be worth it to put yourself in a bad position. But not when you don't have to.' She kisses Cyeria gently, unwilling to let this chatter be so business-focused that they couldn't take advantage of this quiet moment.

"But there's, I think, a way to handle this where you dont have to give anything." She says. "Nobility as a whole like to feel important. They like to feel included in things no one else is. So if we frame it as if you're trusting them with the information - that you're Avther, and that you wanted to keep an eye on the situation, but you wanted to keep it a secret... then that might be enough. You'd be playing into their expectations to be treated better than everyone else, while...really just giving them only what we want them to have." She nuzzles against her, laughing softly. "But a shrine certainly wouldn't hurt."

 

[Aerynth]

Ah. Well, that certainly hadn't occurred to her before. Why, though? It was so simple and yet so effective! The gap between our abilities, Cyreia realized. That's the reason. Just like she had been fighting for years, Remin, too, had been besting opponents, although in a different way. With words and half-truths and manipulations. Would she ever reach her level of mastery? Maybe not, but trying certainly wouldn't hurt. Besides, Cyreia didn't have to be as good as Remin; just... good enough to avoid making a complete fool out of herself. That shouldn't be too difficult, right? She wasn't stupid, after all. Inexperienced, yes, and perhaps a little clumsy with words at times, but not hopeless. Once she managed to embrace this new way of thinking, surely things would improve. And until then? Until then, there was Remin to rely on. (Had the gods really meant for them to get together? If so, maybe she should thank them. Cyreia wasn't the one for grand gestures, but-- well, it was only polite to express gratitude when someone gave you a gift, and her wife was the greatest gift of them all.)

"That's... a really good idea. You're so clever," she smiled and kissed her on her collarbone. God, Cyreia couldn't wait until they got home and enjoyed more privacy than this flimsy tent offered. The things she would have done to her if not for the threat of someone barging inside! The position they would have found them in would have been incriminating enough even without her losing the rest of her clothes. No, just like many other things, this, too, had to wait. "Let's go with you suggestion, then. We'll make them feel special." Frankly, it somewhat baffled her that they valued such a thing so highly, but it was the kind of foolishness she had learned to expect from aristoracts, so there was no doubt in her mind that this would work.

"Alright, so with that out of the way, what's actually the situation in Werough? Aside from the religious differences, what do they have a problen with?" Cyreia intended to ask them about that, of course, but investigating the matter beforehand seemed like a good idea. Besides, the nobles surely wouldn't give her an unbiased answer. Remin... might actually be somewhat biased in her description of the feud as well, but if she listened to both sides of the conflict, surely she'd get closer to the truth.

 

[Conifer]

"The terms were set before even my parents," she says. "A century ago or so. I don't...know them as well as I should." She'd put some time into studying it while she had been still at the castle, but honestly, less than she should have. There had been so much to do, and every moment she hadn't been doing that, she'd been sleeping or worrying over Cyeria. "But the terms for aiding them -- they aren't /predatory/, but they're certainly more favorable for Athea than Werough, and haven't changed much since they were enacted. Taxes in Athea have comparitively lowered since then, but not Werough; bringing them in line is something that we could approach with, though...if we can avoid it, it may be good. Wars are expensive. This was expensive, and the crown isn't destitute, but...again. Wars are expensive. It's been very expensive lately." She sighs softly, thinking for a moment. "Back then, the religions were more in line, as well; that might be a point of concern. You've seen the differences between the two outlooks by now. And when we first aided them, they weren't pleased about our laws applying to them and replacing theirs, which...it was a more lawless place that Athea, easily. We brought in order, for better or worse. Whatever happens, though, keeping them as allies is more important than most other things. If we need to lower taxes, we will. If we need to let them free of us entirely, we will. I'd rather not, as their farmlands supply a good deal to us, and the taxes they pay aren't insignificant, but we've already seen that some of them are willing to go to war for what they think is their rights."

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia frowned slightly. "I... understand that the taxes are convenient, Remin, but we'll have to lower them. This is not right." She held little love for the people of Werough, at least the ones she had met so far, but this wasn't about her personal sympathies; this was a matter of principle. You couldn't rule a country, treat people of various regions differently and then expect them to be loyal. It just didn't work like that. Had Cyreia showed a preference for a certain unit, others wouldn't have respected her, either. Besides, the Weroughians she didn't like? They were nobles, and nobles were rarely hurt by high taxes. Not as much as smallfolk anyway. Yes, they probably weren't as rich as their Athean counterparts, but as far as she was concerned, those people had too much money anyway. Common people, though? High taxes often meant that they weren't able to eat properly, or that they could only afford one pair of shoes per year. No, this had to stop.

"I don't like the idea of giving them independence, though. It could be a dangerous precedent. I mean, we'll do it if there's no other way, but if we do let them go-- what will prevent the others from asking the same? Surely a lot of nobles would enjoy calling themselves a king or a queen instead of a lord or a lady." Not all regions had the same historical justification for something like that, of course, but that probably wouldn't stop anyone. "As for the money issues-- I suppose that we can confiscate the properties of the nobility that sided with Wellan," she suggested and caressed her face. "At least some of them. That's bound to anger certain people as well, but Wellan did commit high treason, so I believe it's reasonable to punish them somehow." Hell, they should be glad Cyreia didn't want to have them killed; king Loran would definitely have done that. "Or do you think it would be a bad course of action?" She didn't really see the downsides to this, but that didn't mean that they did not exist.

 

[Conifer]

"I think you're right in that people won't be pleased." Remin agrees softly. It was...honestly tempting to allow Cyeria to handle this. It was her war that she'd won, after all - or as close to someone being responsible for winning it could be, at least, all considered. And what was the worst that could happen? A bad deal. That's what would happen. Remin would step in before it became a terrible deal; she wouldn't allow Athea to suffer that much, but a bad deal was almost necessary to learn how to someday make better and better deals. It wasn't going to be a bad deal, anyways. Cyeria was more capable than she gave herself credit for, even if she was still growing into her new power. It might help jump-start that confidence that she deserved to have. That-- someday she would have. She would. They would get there, and Remin would do everything she could to help her every step of the way just as Cyeria had helped Remin through all of this week. "But I don't think it's bad. They aided in the treason, and thus - and if they're worth anything to their people, they'll welcome the lowered taxes in return. We won't leave them destitute at any rate. Is there anything else that we might do? You've spent more time with the people of this area than I have. Is there anything they lack that we might be able to provide?"

 

[Aerynth]

Cyreia furrowed her brow. Yes, she had spent more time in Werough than Remin had, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. The people she had talked to were either nobles or soldiers, and none of these groups exactly faced the struggles smallfolk did. Well, the soldiers likely did, when they weren't fighting at the very least, though they hadn't discussed these things with her. The issues of their day to day lives had kind of been pushed to the background when facing much more immediate issues. Issues like possibly dying. Still, Cyreia did have eyes, and while she hadn't thought to ask, she had seen some things that could be improved.

"From what I have witnessed," she started slowly, "the whole region is... uh, a lot more backwards." There just wasn't a nicer way to say that; Cyreia had tried, but no amount of pretty words could change the ugly reality. "The roads are particularly terrible. It will cost a lot of money, I'm sure, but we should really take care of that at some point. If nothing else, it needs to be acknowledged and dealt with in the future when we have more funds." If they ever had them. Why did everything had to cost so much money? Back when the idea of being a king had been nothing but a terrifying spectre hanging over her, Cyreia had used to think that, even if everything else might be terrible, at least she wouldn't ever need to worry about finances again. Oh, how naive that notion had been! Cyreia herself didn't suffer from poverty, certainly, but now she had to manage the budget for an entire country, and that was infinitely more exhausting. It almost made her miss her old financial situation, really.

"I'm also... not sure whether our education program managed to reach them. I've seen some people struggle with reading instructions, so we might want to be more diligent in that. Still, the greatest problem, I think, is that they see themselves as separate from Athea. It's a clear us vs. them distinction, and honestly? It doesn't surprise me in the slightest because there seems to be very little contact between them and the rest of the country. Is there a way we could-- I don't know, promote cooperation between Werough and Athea?"

 

[Conifer]

Despite herself and all the grace she should possess, Remin found herself unable to hide the smallest smile at Cyeria's clumsy description of the state of the area. It was more backwards; she was hardly wrong there. The bluntness of it was still entertaining. Werough always had been, and somehow took pride in that. Remin...didn't understand exactly, but she understood that different cultures valued different things, and while Athea was similar enough to not entirely upset the balance that the two places had struck, her home prided itself much more on moving forward as Werough found strength in the daily motions.

Remin thinks quietly of a solution to Cyeria's raised concerns; she wanted these solutions to be Cyeria's own, mostly, but the woman had provided the pieces. She understood what was important to the common person more than Remin had the time or opportunity to notice, and she realized that something needed to be changed about them. Remin truly didnt have doubts that Cyeria would someday find her skin in leadership, but...that day might come sooner than they both might expect it to. However long it took, though, Remin would be beside her and supporting her the entire while. "An improvement to a main road might help," she suggests, beginning to lay out a selection of options. "It would allow for better travel - better trade - between the two areas, and thus make them more dependent. We can't afford to fix every road now, or soon, but one or two would be manageable. We could either send more teachers for literacy lessons this way, and - or in addition, likely - train those who /can/ read and write in the area who wish to teach others." She hums softly, thinking further. "Further than all of that, we could host a celebrations. Like the kite festival we're planning-" or, planning on planning, really; most of that work had been temporarily left to the wayside, "-between Eurpiunia and Athea. There's enough joint gods between us; we find one that they respect, and hold a different celebration for than we do, and we extend it through the rest of the country."

 

[Aerynth]

"That sounds reasonable enough," Cyreia nodded. "Let's not speak of these things further, though. I'd like to enjoy a few restful moments with my beloved." There was no point in planning things in greater detail, after all; the nobles would surely like to argue their point (as they always did) and they would have to adapt to their whims, if only in a symbolic way. As such, any real effort spent on the plan now would have been wasted; they had a rough outline they would stick to and that would be more than enough. Besides, didn't they deserve to forget about their duties for a while? Soon, they would head among the aristocrats again and they would have to don courtesy for their armor, they would need to smile and lie and pretend that nothing pleased them more than kowtowing to these people, but 'soon' wasn't 'now'. Even the soldiers outside could be heard celebrating. Why couldn't they do the same? Cyreia just wanted to hold her wife and close her eyes for a few seconds. They hadn't had many opportunities to do that lately; opportunities to just... exist, free of worries.

How long did they lie there? Minutes or hours? It was difficult to tell, really; at some point, Cyreia may have fallen asleep, so that complicated the matters, too. It probably didn't matter, though. Not when the war had ended and Remin rested safely in her arms. They couldn't remain hidden in this tiny oasis of peace forever, though; the main battle may have run its course, yes, but there were other, smaller victories to claim. Apparently word about Wellan's death travelled fast, which meant that the remaining enemies gave up quickly, but their own allies? Ironically, they posed a large problem at the moment. Without the war to unite them, they lost a large part of the incentive to be on good terms with Athea, and now Cyreia and Remin had to find a way to deal with them under these new circumstances. God, what a headache.

"I almost, almost wish we still had a common enemy," Cyreia sighed as she put on her armor again. Not that it was necessary, mind you, but it... kind of made her feel more powerful, as childish as it was. "I assume that we should pay lady Beleret a visit. I mean, I assume she'll want to see us. Do you think I should break the news about my identity before that or once they've all gathered?"

 

[Conifer]

Remin was perfectly content to settle herself in Cyeria's arms; she had no intentions of being the first one to rise, nor did she have any intention of being the one to break this hazy, comfortable silence that they were finally allowed to settle into. She drifted aimlessly, grounded only by Cyeria's embrace - sleep never quite came, but the cozy warmth of almost sleep did, and that was almost nicer. For the first time in gods know how long, there wasn't some part of her that wasn't quietly despairing. There were plenty of things to despair over, yes, but they remained solidly out of her mind as she listened to Cyeria's breathing, felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest, existed tangled beside her. Later those worries would return to her, but this...this was enough to make the thought of that bearable.

As Cyeria donned her armor once more, Remin pulled on her dress, changing out of her borrowed trousers. They had been fine for the battle, and likely would be fine now if she abused her rank, but that wasn't something that she wanted to risk if they were going to attempt to sweet talk their way into some sort of compromise. She would have liked to be properly dressed, especially to meet with the lady Beleret, but surely she would understand the difficulties that a war camp imposed on dressing fashionably. This thick, inelegant fabric would have to do. "...once they've all gathered, I think." She suggests, watching Cyeria slip back into the layers of protection. Remin hated how they had to exist with all of these walls, but it was...nice to know that later, Remin would get to help her shed them once more, with her careful hands working over buttons and ties and allowing Cyeria to be herself again. As much as she wanted her wife to be able to be as open as she wanted with the wide world, some possessive part of Remin was glad to have this thing that was her own to share; so much else of her life was on display, so much else of it left up to public opinion and need, that...knowing she had something that none of them did was a comfort. A selfish comfort, because Cyeria was a person, who shouldn't have to hide, but...a comfort. "We may as well get it out with all at once."

 

[Aerynth]

"That may be easier, yes." Or... well, maybe not easier because these things were never really easy, but if she got to postpone the revelation for a bit, Cyreia was a happy woman. It would be a problem for her future self. Was that a healthy philosophy to live by? Probably not, but it had gotten her this far in life, so she saw no reason to discard it now. Besides, the additional time would help her to come up with a good way to say it. If she were to admit the truth now, Cyreia would probably manage to insult everyone in the process somehow and they did not need that. No, an opportunity to think about her words would be good.

When they stepped outside, soldiers could be seen celebrating everywhere; Atheans drank with Weroughians, the differences between them seemingly forgotten. Cyreia would have loved to join them, but unfortunately, they couldn't afford to do that. Not when they still had so much work to do. Would that ever change? Maybe once they returned back home, but only for a few precious, stolen moments in any given day. Privately, she... still hadn't come to terms with that. With her life not really being hers anymore. That had always been true to an extent as Avther couldn't just stop being a war hero once it was time to sheathe her sword, but-- well, it was much more extreme here, and she wasn't sure whether she would ever manage to get used to that. How did Remin handle it with such grace?

Either way, they had to ride to lady Beleret's castle. It wasn't too far, and Cyreia had no idea whether that was a blessing or a curse. Not having to spend too much time traveling was always convenient, of course, but maybe it would have actually been nice. How long had it been since she enjoyed a ride just for ride's sake? Way too long. Perhaps they should do that with Remin sometime; choose a distant-ish location and ride there, their only companion the wind in their hair. How beautiful that would be! Definitely more beautiful, at least, than listening to lady Yngran and other nobles bicker, and bicker they did. One would have thought they'd be happy that the war had ended, but no; immediately, they went back to their old feuds. Did they seriously think that now was a good time to argue about a last year's festival gone wrong? Apparently. Maybe it was a good thing they didn't have to travel for long, after all.

Lady Beleret was waiting for them outside; she bore a striking similarity to Wellan, though his arrogance was nowhere to be found in her face. "Welcome, my king, my queen," she bowed when they got off their horses. "I've seen you coming."

 

[Conifer]

It was charming and comforting, despite what they faced ahead, to see the two armies mingling so easy. It was one thing for forces to share their food, their medical supplies, the things necessary for them all to make it back home alive, but drinks were....much more possessed. More important to men rewinding. They were frivolous and personal, and so the sharing of the stores...perhaps this would work after all, Remin was encouraged. (Though, she assumed, the nobility would be much less willing to open their cellars to those who had acted against them. Oh, if only the world turned on the common person instead of this mess of self-righteousness.)

Remin hadn't anticipated how unsettled wandering from the camp would make her. It had been lost in the mess of war before, the nerves already allocated to a whole other lot of things, but now her heartbeat only grew louder in her ears as the sound of merriment and cheer grew quieter. There wasn't hundreds of men with swords and shields and knowledge on how to use them both between her and anything that threatened anymore. There...didn't need to be. She'd seen Wellan's head roll lamely in the grass and spill red onto green and she'd seen the blood on Cyeria's sword before she'd wiped it clean and she'd seen the way he lay limp and awkward and she'd seen-- Remin gripped the reins tighter. She'd seen enough to prove to herself that Wellan couldn't come for her if he wanted to. And Cyeria was at her side, with her sword, with her sword that still gleamed bright and untarnished despite the gallons of blood that must have stained it over its life, with her sword that was sharp enough to slice cleanly through a neck, with her sword that had ended the threat against Remin's physical form but regrettably not the rest of her. She'd seen enough. She knew enough. This was fine. They weren't unguarded, they were barely away from camp. If she listened hard enough, she could still hear soft bursts of sharp laughter carried on the wind. There was no reason for any of this.

Distraction came soon enough. Greetings were quick enough; a pleasant smile, a nod of the head, and they were swept out of the wind and into the walls. The castle was modest as they entered it, but not in the way the one Wellan had taken up residence in was; the size of it was comfortable, with perhaps less than even a dozen rooms, and while the walls were nearly bare, they weren't empty. It didn't feel hollow and wrong. Intricate stained glass that took up spots in the window, showing various religious scenes and casting color against the grey stone on the opposite wall, and tapestries took some of the cold edge from the space. It was...nice. Understated, and nice. Warm, just as the Lady Beleret seemed to be, if a little proper. She seemed to take up her place in the world well; no one would doubt that the woman before them was of note, but there was nothing in particular that made her notable. Her hair was worn only slightly more complicated than the fashions Remin had seen elsewhere, and her dress was much like the one that Remin herself had been put into before - though the fabric surely nicer, and in a soft, sage green instead of tanned and plain. Remin looked anywhere but her face as much as she could; she's sure it was nice, but it was...his eyes, looking back at her, and not the rightful owner of them. She couldn't admire the architecture and ignore the lady forever, but it bought her a few moments.

"We trust that this whole affair hasn't left you too scathed?" Remin prompts gently; it was clear that they'd made it out of the mess intact, though. It was smalltalk for the sake of it. "We apologize that it didn't all happen a bit sooner, but are more than glad you were safe from the whole mess."

 

[Aerynth]

Isobel smiled gently as she led them through her halls. "It wasn't... terrible, all things considered. My castle walls are strong, and we were prepared for a siege. I had an inkling something like this might happen. Not necessarily something involving my brother, of course, but... yes, I saw to it that we had enough food and other necessities to last for a while. Worry not; your help was swift enough. In fact, you came more quickly than I expected. We would have been able to endure it for another month or two, I believe."

They continued to walk until they reached what had to be a dining hall; just like all the other rooms in the castle they had seen so far, it was modest and almost sad-looking when compared to the luxurious mansions other nobles lived in, but functional. Functional and rather cozy. There was a hearth in the middle of the chamber and, for some reason, it reminded Cyreia of home; home and other warm things. Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to get lost in memories now. Not when other problems occupied her mind at the moment, the most pressing of them being that lady Beleret seemed to know who she was. Remin had... kind of ignored it, but she had called her a king, hadn't she? How did she know? Had she just guessed who the man accompanying the queen might be, or had she recognized her from her visions? And, more importantly, what was the proper way to react here? They couldn't exactly deny that, especially not since they intended to reveal it anyway, but-- not like this. If the lady told the others for her, the position it would put her into wouldn't be good. It would-- it would look like she only admitted to it because she had to, like a thief that was caught red-handed, and not because she wanted to. God, what a mess. Why could nothing ever go according to the plan here? Cyreia could only hope nobody else noticed it.

"Sit down, please," lady Beleret gestured towards them. "You must be tired after the journey. I have some excellent tea and I'm sure it'll warm you up." Cyreia had never been a tea lover - she tended to prefer water as it was much more refreshing - but when maids brought their drinks, they smelled so nice and flowery that she was almost inclined to change that stance. Perhaps she just hadn't had a really good tea yet? That seemed likely enough. To taste the best goods, you had to have money, and that hadn't been true for her for most of her life.

"It's good, isn't it?" Isobel smiled sweetly. It was difficult to believe, really, that she and Wellan had been related. Physical similarities were there, definitely, but the rest of it? His sister couldn't act more differently even if she tried. Was that a pose, a carefully crafted mask, or her true self? Only time would show, Cyreia supposed. Her experiences with nobles had taught her to not trust them easily, no matter how friendly or kind they appeared on the first glance. Vestat had provided her a good lesson in that regard, and she wasn't one to forget her lessons. No, caution would serve her well here. "Now, before we start dicussing other things, I'd like to apologize to you, my queen," lady Beleret looked up from her cup of tea. "From what I understand, my family caused you a lot of grief. I can only hope that you'll find it in your heart to forgive me. To forgive us."

 

[Conifer]

This whole affair was...unsettling, but in some complicated way that didn't raise the alarms in Remin's head more than they already were. Isobel seemed genuine enough, but the way she spoke, the way she acted...had she called Cyeria king? Gods. She had, hadn't she? Had they been that transparent, or were her visions as prolific as rumor would make it seem? Remin was eager enough to believe that - she'd seen other seers, she'd known them and spoken with them, and that tiny scrap of knowledge would be nothing to figure out - but still, there's some amount that hesitates. Isobel was a powerful woman regardless of her abilities. There was a chance that her sight was a smokescreen; yes, she saw things, but there were other ways to know about what she saw. It wouldn't take a genius to see that Ianes and Avther looked identical, and Remin hadn't gone around shouting from rooftops about what had happened to her, but it was no secret. Remin sipped at her tea, trying to determine how much they should - how much they could - trust the woman before them. "There's nothing to forgive, my lady." She says, gently. The mug is pleasantly warm and grounding in her hands. "The matter's dealt with. We don't need to linger on it further." Wellan is dead, and so it was done. If she said that enough times, then perhaps it might become true.

Would she grieve her brother, Remin wondered? How did she feel about it? They were enemies already, with his trying to overthrow her, but...Well. Vestat had been her enemy, and she couldn't help but grieve that fractured relationship some amount. That had been a surprise that had come swiftly, though; perhaps this betrayal had dragged on for long enough that any feelings of fondness had been tainted. Still, speaking ill of the dead might be something they should be cautious with. Isobel still at least called him family, and that signified...something, surely."You've seen through our ruse," She comments, carefully, seemingly offhand but really anything but. They had to know how much she knew - or, had to have some idea of it, at least. "If you'd be kind enough to avoid mentioning it to anyone else before we come clean to them later, it would be appreciated. Avther assumed - correctly, I'd say - that it would be easier to handle all of this mess as someone who wasn't Avther."

 

[Aerynth]

"Perhaps not," Isobel said gently, "but a wrongdoing doesn't cease to be a wrongdoing just because it happened in the past. I cannot do anything to set things right, I'm afraid, but what I can do is to express my feelings regarding the matter." The woman... did seem honest, Cyreia had to admit, but she still couldn't relax. Not entirely. As pleasant as this exchange looked on the surface, there was something underneath it that made her a bit tense. They still didn't know lady Beleret, after all. What exactly did she want from them? Would they be able to give it to her-- and if not, how would she respond? Maybe paranoia had gripped her mind, though that was probably a good thing. Vigilance could never hurt, and so far, Cyreia simply hadn't been vigilant enough. Not for someone surrounded by potential traitors at the very least.

"It is appreciated, my lady," she said carefully and took a sip from her cup. Just an empty courtesy, which was a type of communication that annoyed her to no end, but only a fool would deny the benefits it held. It gave her something safe to say and it showed to the lady that she was willing to play by their rules, no matter how stupid or frivolous they seemed to her. And a person who followed conventions? That was someone who could be trusted; trusted and hopefully worked with rather than against. It worked in a similar way in the army as well. Whether you had clean shoes or obeyed curfew didn't really matter; what mattered was demonstrating that you could be trusted when it came to following orders.

"Yes," Cyreia quickly added when Remin tried to save the situation somehow. "As you can probably imagine, things have been... a bit complicated for me here." An understatement of the year, surely, and lady Beleret probably saw that as well because she chuckled.

"I can see how that could be a problem for you, my king. Well, no matter. Monarchs have to resort to a little ruse here and there from time to time, don't they? It is a good thing that you are so proficient in wearing your masks." Was... that supposed to imply something? How much did she know? Unable to stand her gaze, Cyreia looked inside of her cup instead. God, was this woman strange. And the strangest thing about her? That had to be the fact that she had no idea whether Isobel rubbed her the wrong way or not.

"Worry not, I won't tell anyone," lady Beleret promised. "I would like for us to be friends, and nobody wants a friend who doesn't know when to keep their mouth shut. Either way, hard times are coming, so there is no need for any hostility between us. In fact, it would be best to cooperate more tightly than we did in the past."

 

[Conifer]

Somehow everything out of the women's mouth seemed simultaneously like a reassurance and a threat. Which was it? Was it either? Perhaps both? It was honestly impossible to tell. If they trusted her, would this be the moment they looked back on when she betrayed them and think 'Oh, what fools we weren't? Or would they be grateful to have ignored that nagging feeling that there was something wrong about this all? Well, at any rate - there was no denying that she wanted something from them. Everyone always wanted something. Whether that was safety and lowered taxes or something more sinister, it was difficult to tell, but this was no meeting of the bleeding hearts. Her kindness didnt exist to exist as kindness. It very rarely did. (Remin was equally guilty there, she supposed. It wasn't a bad thing. It was just something to be cautious of.

"You speak of hard times." She prompts, sipping at the tea. It's warm and pleasant, if a little perfume-y. It reminded Remin of springtime in the gardens, tucked away in the groomed paths and pretending that that they were something much more wild and that she was something much more wild, too. "Do you have more information about what might be coming?" Hadnt times been hard enough so far? Gods, she just wanted one month of peace. One month of boredom. "Or just some looming threat of danger?'

 

[Aerynth]

"I do and I don't," Isobel smiled softly, except that there was no warmth in that smile; more than anything else, it seemed weary. "My gift-- well, it is complicated. I find it hard to predict things with complete certainty because circumstances change and shift and form a slightly different pattern every time I look. Sometimes, it feels like the gods are laughing at me," she chuckled. "They almost, almost show me the truth in its nakedness-- and then they yank it away from me." A few weeks ago, Cyreia would have likely thought something about the gods not being as petty as to amuse themselves with the suffering of a random mortal - if they even existed at all - but... well, her experiences seemed to suggest that yes, they were exactly that petty. At least some of them. "The overall shape remains the same no matter what, though, and it's a shape of a war."

"War?" Cyreia looked up from her cup, disbelief apparent in her tone. "But-- but we just had one." Which changed exactly nothing, of course, because fate was rarely as kind as to decide you had suffered enough and give you a break, but still. Would they never be able to exist in peace? Was she naive for even wanting that? War had won her the throne, after all; it seemed logical, in some twisted way, that it would nevet let her go. Not until she paid off her debt. "With whom?" Cyreia asked once her thoughts finally became a bit more organized. Perhaps this woman was wrong - or even lying, really - but it wouldn't hurt to ask her for additional information. If she lied, her answer would tell them more about her motivations, and if she didn't? If nothing else, they could prepare for what was to come more adequately. "Is there another rebellion movement we don't know about?"

"No," Isobel shook her head. "That's one of the things I'm certain about. This time, the danger approaches from the outside."

Now that made no sense. "From the outside?" Cyreia repeated after her. "I apologize if I sound rude, my lady, but your visions must be wrong. We're under the Eupriunian protection now. Nobody would dare to attack us, and even if Eupriunia itself went to war, we wouldn't be dragged into it aside from being asked to provide material support. They know that we're not a nation of warriors."

"I saw what I saw, my king," Isobel responded gently. "You may not like it, but it's true."

 

[Conifer]

War. Gods, war after war. Was this what her reign was to be colored by? Red of bloodshed? She wanted peace. She wanted to rule her people, she wanted to improve her kingdom. None of that could be done if all there was was endless battle, draining their moral and coffers. "No." Remin agrees, so softly, into the surface of the tea in her cup before she sips at it, finding some tiny moment of solstice there in its steam. "No, I don't like it, at all." She clears her throat, setting her mug aside; as much as she wanted to retreat into it and away from all of this...if she couldn't rule her people through peace, then she would lead them through war, and she would do it as well as she could. "What other information do you have?" She prompts, not expecting much, but having to ask all the same. "Do you have a time frame? What we should do to best prepare? Any knowledge of what we might face, beyond something in the wideness of the world?" This hadn't been the conversation she'd been expecting while travelling here, and it wasn't the one she wanted to have, but she supposed it was better than not knowing war was on the horizon. Another war on the horizon before the other two were even faded from the sky. Had she done something to draw the gods wrath? Was this her? Who had she insulted, who had she upset, to drag all of this down onto her people, and why couldn't they just force the burden onto Remin herself and allow her to carry it? This would hurt more was the answer to that. It would be an easier weight if she alone carried it. She knew how to carry weight alone. She was used to that. Allowing others to take some of it? Watching others have it forced upon them, especially the people that relied on her to protect them from matters such as this indistinct heaviness, was a far more impossible burden. That's why it was her alone, in this spiraling fantasy that in a world where the gods are true and alive - which they'd seen proof of earlier, hadn't they? - Remin had done something so terrible that this was warranted as punishment. Or...was it just a game? Some stupid game played among them for amusement? Gods, Remin was tired. She had some tiny scrap of mind to wash her hands of all this; enough people wanted the crown. Let them have it. She and Cyeria could retire to some tiny beach somewhere, and walk barefoot, and be forgotten.

 

[Aerynth]

"No," Isobel sighed. "Unfortunately, I've told you everything I know. The visions aren't exactly clear; they've never been, at least when it comes to things with such a wide scope. I wish I could help you more, but I cannot." Lady Beleret fell silent for a while, staring into the flames that flickered wildly in the hearth. "I'm also sure that his highness will know what to prepare better than I do. This is your craft, isn't it, my king?" she smiled at Cyreia, the intent behind her words unreadable. Was she praising her or chastising her? Implying that she shouldn't be sitting on the throne at all or saying that her skills were exactly what the realm needed right now? It could easily be both, really, but trying to figure that riddle out would only distract her from what was truly important; from this supposedly approaching war. No, she had to focus.

"... yes. Yes, I know, more or less," Cyreia admitted reluctantly. "It's always different depending on what kind of opponent you're facing, but the fundamentals are the same no matter who you fight." She also had an idea or two concerning how to improve the effectiveness of the Athean army, though... well, she hadn't expected to be forced to explore that so soon. Those plans had been just idle things, ways to entertain herself when her mind had grown tired and drifted back to the comfort of the familiar, and now they could prove to be vital. Vital to the well-being of their people. What a sick, sick farce!

"Are you absolutely sure you don't know more, though?" Cyreia asked the lady. "Anything could help, even the tiniest of details." Knowing how to proceed, after all, didn't mean that they couldn't use additional information. If they had the benefit of planning to counteract specific dangers, they could save hundreds, even thousands of lives. Surely the lady had to know something! What would have been the point in telling them of this nebulous threat they couldn't really do anything about?

"No, I'm afraid. As I've said, the visions are hazy and the gods don't listen. Although-- perhaps there is a way to make them more comprehensible," Isobel said after a moment of hesitation. Suddenly, she looked more guarded than before; almost like a forest animal cornered by hunters. The change was almost imperceptible and yet so striking at the same time that it startled Cyreia. What exactly was going on here? And, perhaps more importantly, did they want to get involved? "It's not a pleasant way, though. Pray tell, what did you do with my brother's body?"

 

[Conifer]

"...I don't know." Remin admits, feeling shameful for having to tell his sister that she'd left his body lying in the dirt and the mud and the blood like some discarded rubbish. That's what it was, more or less, but it was still uncomfortable to admit that to his family. "It's being tended to by soldiers, but what they might have done with it, I'm unsure." It was close enough to 'we left it on the ground' that surely it wouldn't be anything but transparent, but at least held enough careful words to make the whole process seem a little more thought out than her flighty retreat back to the safety of the tent had been. "But whatever needs to be done-- if you're willing to aid us, I'll do anything." Remin says. She'd face Wellan again. She'd face rats again. She'd do what she had to to protect the people that she was sworn to; it was her duty, and what else was there to do but that? "If there's a way to stop this before it starts-- I cannot keep dragging my country to war. We've fought one for years and we've lost. This win today was a stroke of luck we won't achieve again. Our supplies are meager, our volunteers are thin, our wealth is dwindling, and our children need their parents to stop being ripped away from them every other week. This isn't sustainable. Whatever's on the horizon - we're not going to win it. Gods, will we try, but we won't." It was foolish to admit all these shortcomings in front of a person who might use them against Athea, but- it wasn't foolish to be open if she was actually someone they could trust. It was an uncalculated risk, emotion winning out over reason, but they were the facts of the matter. "Another war on the scale of Eupriunia will destroy us, and this sounds...worse."

 

[Aerynth]

"I don't know, either," Cyreia admitted. "Handling that wasn't exactly our priority at the time, I'm afraid." Perhaps it should have been a priority, really, considering the fact that he had been the ruling lady's family and she could very well want to bury him, but that ship had sailed already. What had the soldiers done to Wellan's corpse? Not anything nice, Cyreia was willing to wager. The best outcome they could realistically hope for was his body ending up in a shallow grave with all the other men that had died that day, and that meant that nobody would be able to locate it anymore. That... didn't actually seem all that likely to her, though; not considering what he had done to his own subordinates. Surely they wouldn't allow him to rest in peace after he had sicced those monstrosities to feast on them. No, it would shock her if they hadn't taken the opportunity to deface the dead lord, and soldiers could get very creative in this regard. Describing these things to his sister was awkward, though, so Cyreia simply bit her tongue and kept her opinions to herself. Isobel didn't need to know everything, after all. What mattered was that they had lost Wellan; the grisly details were unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

"I understand," lady Beleret said. "And I don't blame you, either. I imagine that the situation must have been fairly chaotic, with the gods themselves descending on the battlefield and whatnot. It is not at all strange that you would fail to tend to such a thing under these circumstances." As she spoke, some of the control that had slipped away from her earlier returned into her tone; once again, Isobel turned into a dignified lady. Why, though? Could it be that she found them easier to deal with when they were apologizing to her, clearly on the defensive, or was she actually glad that they hadn't brought her her brother's body for some reason? The woman confused her to no end. Not that other nobles - or even Remin at times - were easier to read, but Isobel Beleret was utterly baffling in ways she just didn't have any experience with. Did her behavior made more sense to Remin? Cyreia certainly hoped so, because navigating this conversation felt like trying to cross a frozen lake without being able to see where the cracks in the ice were. What would offend her? What would please her? Gods only knew.

"And I also understand your concerns," she nodded. "War is a terrible thing and we've had too much of it lately. Sadly, my ability to help doesn't depend on my willingness to do so. It is a shame that you lost Wellan, as he would have made for a fine sacrifice." Sacrifice? What? Cyreia's lack of understanding must have been tangible, really, because nobody had to prompt Isobel to provide an explanation.

"It is an old practice," she said quietly. "Burning bodies and divining the future from the smoke. It is said that it is most pleasing to the gods, and that they give you the clearest visions in return. Not everybody is suited to serve as such sacrifice, though; my line is of the old blood and Wellan was dead already, so he would have been an ideal candidate. It's... not easy to find people who fit the requirements. Not since the blood has become so dilluted. Both of you might do, actually, but I wouldn't ask you to volunteer, your highnesses."

 

[Conifer]

"...No, I don't think either of our deaths would benefit the situation." Remin agreed - again, was that a threat? No, certainly not, but it wasn't unlike one. Gods. More and more Remin wished for the chaotic but understandable chatter of Lady Everbright. The world would be a better place if everyone was so plain with their thoughts, even if it would also be a much more distracting place for all the talking feeding in one ear and out the other. "...we'll inquire of Wellan's body." She says, unsure on whether or not that's a good idea. The information would be invaluable to have, but the shift in Isobel's demeanor didn't go unnoticed by Remin, either. Remin herself was without siblings, but she doubted that seeing your brother's beheaded body burning for sacrifice would be a very comforting sight, even if you two were at odds.

The whole concept of sacrifice was...unsettling. A Weroughian thing through and through, at least with the sacrifice of bodies. It wasn't uncommon for someone trying to divine specifics to ask for some tribute - Remin had lost her favorite childhood toy that way, and watched it smashed and burned so that her mother could learn things that they really could have guessed at about her future (and that the meat in the pie for dinner that night had gone off, so she supposed the avoiding of eating that might have been worth it.) Bodies, though? Flesh and blood turned away? If it happened in Athea, it was kept quiet, and Remin had little desire to ask Maric for confirmation that it might be. No one was reporting strings of missing people or bodies missing from graves, so it must not be too close to an epidemic.

"...knowing more or not," Remin sighs. "I suppose it's coming either way. Knowing the scraps of information that your ritual might bring to us would likely change little unless it shows us how to circumvent this whole fate." Her tone suggested that she didn't have high hopes for that, and truly, she didn't. Still...but, wait. Her thoughts catch, hanging in midair. "Your highnesses," She repeats. "I'd...assume that the gods care little for-" there's really no way to say it elegantly, and so she tries all the same, but the hesitance colors her voice, "-...bonds of marriage." And....very technically a marriage that she's not entirely sure would hold up if pressed, "But you include Avther as a suitable sacrifice all the same?" Oh, and that's a thought she didn't need: her wife in Wellan's place, head rolling across the floor, body burning. A look at Cyeria, her head firmly clinging to her neck, settles some of the feelings that thought brings, but not exactly as many as Remin would like.

 

[Aerynth]

God, Cyreia couldn't wait to get back to Athea. Some of their ways still seemed foreign and vaguely incomfortable, but-- well, at least they didn't burn people as sacrifices in order to consort with the gods. What an incredibly low bar to pass, right? Well, Weroughians still managed to fail at it somehow! Even Isobel, with all her apparent softness and good manners, didn't shy away from such practices. Though honestly? Once the initial shock dissipated, Cyreia had to admit that what they did in Werough... wasn't all that different from the Eupriunian customs. Her countrymen, too, killed to please their god. What exactly made them right and Weroughians wrong? If nothing else, their sacrifices at least led to tangible results; unless lady Beleret was lying, they received prophetic visions in return. And what did they get for razing cities to the ground? Nothing but a few miserable coins. No god had ever shown up to thank Cyreia personally even though the men she had slain during the course of her life would likely fill an entire city by now. So, so many people had fallen by her sword, and for what? For someone else's ambitions. It had been difficult to admit that before, but she saw that oh so clearly now; yet another benefit provided by the distance from her previous life.

"I'm not too eager to die, either, so that's out of question." Dying on the battlefield was one thing, but this? This was completely honorless; Cyreia didn't like the idea of being someone's sacrificial lamb and she'd much rather kill Isobel before even considering such a fate for Remin. She hadn't saved her wife from Wellan's clutches just to... just to burn her at some random woman's whims, for god's sake! No, they really shouldn't dabble in these arts. Having more information would be preferable, but sometimes the price was simply too high, and this seemed to be one of those cases.

Remin... had pointed out something interesting, though. "That's a good question. I assume that, by old blood, you mean being a member of an important bloodline, right?" Cyreia found that a bit foolish as no blood was truly 'old' or 'new' - did anyone really think that smallfolk just kind of popped out of nowhere? - but maybe it was one of the instances of nobles wanting to feel more important than everybody else just for being born. Either way, she doubted that she had interpreted lady Isobel's statement incorrectly. "I don't mean to burst your bubble, but I'm as common as they come." Hell, technically speaking, she was a bastard, though Cyreia didn't feel like mentioning that. Why give the lords and ladies even more reasons to look down on her? Being a Eupriunian commoner seemed to be more than enough on its own.

"Oh?" Isobel smiled softly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that; not unless you have very different standards for what is considered to be common in Eupriunia." Now she was just toying with her and Cyreia didn't enjoy that; the woman was obviously getting at something, but she danced around it instead of speaking plainly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, cutting straight to the point; Isobel's expression sobered a bit at that.

"What I mean, my king, is that you clearly have fae blood. Your magical presence is... very distinctive, though I am not surprised that nobody told you before. These days, not many people know what they're looking at."

Cyreia looked at Remin, uncomprehending. "I have what now?"

 

[Conifer]

Isobel's reveal came as equally a surprise to Remin as it did Cyeria. For all the amount she couldn't find herself to fully trust the lady, this was...different. It rang true immediately, even if Remin hadn't noticed the signs before, or had really any inkling that it was a possibility. Whether they could trust her or not was still another matter entirely, but she at least seemed to know what she was talking about - if she was right. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe she wasn't right at all, and was just hoping that the two of them would be gullible enough to believe her - but what would the point be there? What would she gain from that?

Remin sets her tea aside, shifting in her seat to look to Cyeria. "...it would explain why your magic has been so tricky." She says, risking reaching across the space between them and settling a hand on Cyeria's wrist. Isobel apparently knew enough about them that surely caring about each other, something which plenty of people who had no magical sight surely had figured out, would come as no surprise. "Fae magic's...different. According to story, at least. That's..." She trails off, looking back towards Isobel. "You're sure of this? It's not some...I don't know. Godly interference you're picking up on instead?"