Vol.2, Ch.3, P.5

 

And still did my heart race.

From morning till this moment, for today was the long-awaited commencement: to be held was the official screening for the post of Chief Adjutant of the 5th Chivalric Order.

But ‘twas more an intimate affair, held in a small conference room in the headquarters proper. Gathered were the top brass of the 5th: myself, the under-mareschal, the Owlcranes, and the brigadiers, including Felicia herself. And together, ‘twas our charge hereupon to meet the aspirants one-by-one. To enquire of them, to know of them, through and through.

Yes…

Long-awaited, indeed.

Months now, it’s been, since I’ve last laid eyes on Rolf.

To see him again…

The thought was as a fresh wind billowing upon my dour sails.

But I’ll not forget my office, of course. The screening must be carried out with all fairness. To that end, I mean to spare Rolf not an inkling of leniency. To earn back his place amongst us, and my side as chief adjutant besides, he must prove himself more worthy again than all others of like ambition.

A knock upon the door. In peeked a knight, one charged with the day’s clerical duties.

“Madame,” he called, “we’ve a fair gathering of aspirants at present. Shall we start soon?”

“Ah, yes,” I answered before yielding a deep breath. “Right. Let us begin.”

“As you wish. The first shall appear shortly.”

The wheels were turning at last. And with them, the fraying of my nerves. A bit silly, really. ‘Tis not I that’s being screened, after all.

Nay… There’re worries aplenty to be had. The leaders, gathered here to judge the aspirants alongside me—there’s no doubt in my mind that they would resist full-fervent Rolf’s very presence, let alone the idea of selecting him for so notable a position.

But Rolf himself has done many an outstanding deed in Ström. Deeds that none here can overlook. And with a show of sincere remorse for the incident of months past, as well as my ensuing support, the pieces of the puzzle are sure to fall in place.

And when they do, the way shall finally be unbarred: the way towards a future, together.

“Pardon.”

With a knock, the first aspirant entered the room—a man seemingly in his forties.

“Good morning, ser,” I greeted him. “Pray have a seat.”

“Thank you, madame.”

And there in a lone chair did he sit, one vis-a-vis us leaders, sat as we were in a single row. Intimidating, to be sure.

“…You’d have done well had you been first…”

A murmur from Felicia, verging on a whisper too faint for an unattentive ear to catch. And who else were they for but her own brother? Truth be told, she spoke the words writ also in my own heart, for I, too, wished Rolf had been the first to cross that door.

But alas. I yet had my duties as a mareschal to fulfil, and any aspirant passing through the doorway must be accorded my fair and earnest judgement.

With my spirits set, I looked to the gentleman before me and commenced the assessment.

 

 

The screenings went on uninhibitedly. ‘Twas on the eve of noon that we were sat afront our fourth aspirant.

“…‘Tis writ here that you’ve assumed command on the field. To wit, on the southern fronts of yesteryear,” I said, looking at the papers. “Is that so?”

“Indeed I have, madame,” nodded the aspirant. “There we were, cornered, disadvantaged. My men were fraught and affrighted, and our foe saw victory on the horizon. But by my wits did we wear them down with nary a hole in our stores. And on the seventh day of that long struggle, we drove them off and snatched victory—right from the front of their noses!”

“Faith! ‘Twas your hand that checked that game, good sir?” gasped one of the leaders. “Why, we hardly talked of aught else when we’d read the reports! And justly so; ‘twas a fine manoeuvre, sir! Standing steadfast like you did!”

“Good man! Glad am I to be so warmly remembered,” our aspirant beamed. “Oh verily, the moment bears my proudest mark. No other soul in that battle could’ve hoped to match my merits, I dare say!”

“Thank you, sir, for that glowing account,” I said. “Right. I believe we’ve heard enough. We shall apprise you of the results in the coming days.”

“And with bated breath shall I wait,” he returned, rising and bowing. “Though you should know, madame. I am quite the steal, if I do say so myself. Hm hm!”

“That you are, sir. Thank you.”

With that, the fourth assessment was concluded. As for the aspirant himself, he made certain not to leave without looking straight my way and airing another expectation of a good tiding.

“My…” Sheila sighed. “Our aspirants thus far—with such spirit do they sell themselves. To some success might they pitch the selling of this very kingdom for a coin, were they to try.”

“I likes it well ‘nough, their spirit,” Raakel chimed in. “Shows motivation, passion.”

The words of the two rang quite true. The aspirants certainly imbued ardour in their persuasion. And as if that weren’t enough, some amongst them belonged to the higher Orders. I had wondered of what compelled them to apply to the 5th, the lowest of the bunch. ‘Twas then that Gerd offered an answer.

“Hah. Likely the work of the ‘Emilie effect’, as I like to call it. All riled and ready to fight alongside our new hero-dame, they are. As they should be!”

Loath though I was to admit, he spoke the grain of truth.

“…Whatever the case, we break here,” I said, standing up from my seat. “Let’s reconvene in an hour hence.”

With that, the leadership collectively shuffled and stretched, whilst I promptly exited the room. To the knight clerk I went.

“Pardon. How many remain?” I asked him.

“Twelve, madame. They wait in the parlour as we speak. We expect more to arrive as the day waxes, however.”

“Is that right…”

“More again have answered your call than any could’ve imagined. I’ll bat not an eye if our work continues well into the night. Stringent indeed were the criteria, but they have done little to abate the flood of aspirants drawn to your beacon, madame.”

“H-have they now…?” I yielded, somewhat afluster. “Right. Let’s keep at it then. There’s much ahead of us.”

Parting from the clerk’s company, I went down the corridor, stopping just before the entrance to the parlour. There, I took in as deep a breath as my lungs allowed, and oh so slowly exhaled. Hand upon my heart, I calmed my nerves.

Then, with perhaps too much caution, I peeked inside.

Within were twelve, all of different ages. And amongst them—

“Emilie.”

“Hya!?”

—a voice prodded me from behind, teasing a silly yelp from my lips. I swivelled about, finding Felicia standing near.

“Has the man shown himself yet?” she asked, surely referring to Rolf himself.

Of late, she’d ceased speaking of him with any warmth. It must be months now since I’d last heard the word “Brother” from her mouth. ‘Twas a change, I gather, precipitated by his silent incapacity for apology at the hearing of months past. A change that only darkened her despair for her once-beloved brother.

“N-no, not yet, from the look of it.”

“The nerve…” she sighed. “Such a boon that awaits him. And he had but to be the repentant earlybird to claim it. How clouded be his eyes, that so simple an appeal is lost to their sight?”

How biting they were, the words of a sister for her own bloodkin.

Yet in faith, her heart was willing to forgive him. This I knew very well. She was amongst those I had privately consulted of putting together this very affair. A conversation, in which course, found her immediately wise to its true intention: to give Rolf another chance.

Even then, in spite of her bitter demeanour, she aired nary a breath of disapproval.

Indeed, the will to forgive Rolf was yet hale in her.

Or perhaps, the desire.

“He sees well enough, Felicia,” I attempted to assuage her. “‘Twon’t be long before he arrives, I’m sure.”

“And you should sooner give up on coddling him so, dear Emilie,” she said, softening upon addressing me. “There’s no need to humour him if he intends to keep playing the pouting toddler. We otherwise chance slighting the other aspirants.”

“Yes, Felicia, I know. The assessments shall be done in full fairness, I swear,” was my assurance to her, after which I gave one more glance through the parlour.

Not less than five years of service in the Order…

Field experience in military command…

The souls I saw inside were all mete with those conditions. And as such, they were each a tempered knight, full-fledged and full-ready to tackle the burden of chief adjutant.

But Rolf will be just fine.

He has to be.

By none of them would he be outshone or overshadowed.

This, I kept pondering.

And thus, did I keep yearning for our reunion.

 

 

Four hours had gone by since we reconvened for the afternoon session. Titian noonlight sighed through the windows.

“Thank you, honoured knights all. I shall await the good word.”

The aspirant dame before us curtsied, and summarily left the conference room.

“She, too, is quite the star, I must say,” said one amongst the leadership. “That she had a hand in the Rossantine defence is most assuring.”

“Yes…” I remarked. “It certainly is.”

Truly, the dame’s deeds were not wanting. Just as true, however, was that the stronghold of Rossant was not especially fraught in its plight. A pale comparison, really, to the deathly circumstance of Balasthea, made deathly no more by Rolf. ‘Twas his deeds that I found to be more vaulting, miraculous even.

I looked to the clerk at the doorway. “How many more?”

“Four in the parlour, madame. The stream of late arrivals looks to be drying up, too, from the look of it.”

“I see. Thank you.” I rose from my seat once more. “Everyone, let’s break for now. We reconvene in twenty.”

A rustling rose from the leaders once more as I left the room. Met with fresher air, I gave a stretch.

“Haah…”

How tiring.

Even as mareschal, I yet ill-take to measuring others with such stringency.

…Nay. That wasn’t it at all.

‘Twas the hours of disappointment. Of welcoming in aspirants to the assessment, one after another, to see not Rolf’s face, but only unacquainted ones. A repetition ever-wearing away at my nerves.

By now, there nagged in me the itch of annoyance. But casting it off with a shake of my head, I went and peeked into the parlour once more.

“…Mm…”

Rolf wasn’t there.

Why?

Felicia’s prior words rang through my mind. More clearly, and truly now, as I pondered further of them. ‘Twas to Rolf’s utmost benefit to show up at the earliest and make plain his remorse to us all. Yet to instead have us sit in grating anticipation… ‘twas passing strange.

The rumination did little but tinge my annoyance towards anger.

But in the course of that reddening, a new concern was awakened in me. One I felt was beyond all possibility. And yet I found myself unable to silence the foreboding.

…Could it be?

That Rolf’s not coming?

No.

What in the world am I thinking?

‘Tis Rolf’s long-lived dream to become a knight. And so it is that here, the Order, honoured hall of chivalry and esteemed service, is where he truly belongs.

Admittedly, he has erred along his path. But I am here. Here to give him another chance. Here to let him retrace his steps and tread anew the right way. Here to welcome him back to my side.

He will come.

I know he will.

But in knowing such did I feel every minute and second drag on grindingly.

How tiring, indeed… More so than I’d anticipated.

With a deep breath to renew my spirits again, I wound about and began to make my way back to the conference room. ‘Twas then that I found Gerd approaching from down the corridor.

“There you are, Emilie,” he called.

“Why, Gerd. We reconvene soon. You should head bac—”

“Still waiting for that ungraced, aren’t you?” There was a flatness of tone in his timbre. A clouded guardedness from which nothing could be gleaned. “The criteria—tailor-made for him, weren’t they? No point in hiding the tale now, Emilie. These eyes of mine are hardly the sole pair that’s seen through the smoke.”

“…I’ll not forget fairness in my duties here.”

“And so you won’t. Not that I had any doubt, of course.” With those words aired, Gerd went and had a glance through the parlour himself. “Hm. The man of the hour—nowhere to be seen.”

“Nowhere indeed.”

An answer of mine, dammed by as much reticence as I could muster, for I felt then that committing to aught would’ve soured the moment immediately.

“Tell me, Emilie,” Gerd said, turning back to me. “Have we real need of him? That ungraced.”

“…I should think so,” I returned carefully. “You’ve heard of what’s happened at Balasthea, haven’t you?”

“That I have.”

“And Erbelde, Godrika… You saw with your own eyes. We all did. How lost we would’ve been, were it not for him.”

“I know that full-well, sure.”

“Yet still you brand him an ‘ungraced’?”

Remaining non-committal was my intent in this conversation, but in its course did I find my words smouldering more and more redly.

“As I ought to. That’s what he is. That’s what he’s been denied.”

“And to be denied is too profane a stigma, in your eyes?”

“Profane enough. For me, and for many, many others,” Gerd answered, before stepping past me and beginning his way back to the conference room. “Still, you have my trust, Emilie. And my ear, and my sword. As well as everyone else’s, I’m sure.”

Words from his parting figure.

I stood there, somewhat whelmed by it all, before I thought to follow him back.

 

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