Vol.6, Ch.4, P.8
“…Forgive me, Highness,” I replied, half-startled. “A thought had taken me.”
A thought that’d haunted me for times uncounted. The old penance, the ceaseless self-blame… In such times would Rolf seem to me something like a curse: a wolf by the name of Regret, ever breaking the sweet air of Recollection with its sad howls from afar. Yet he wasn’t to be driven out from my heart, all told, nor could he ever be, I imagined.
“Yes; he is an alliant, for certain,” I answered the question at last. “On peril of his own life did he protect your royal person. Why name an enemy him who would chance such a deed?”
That moment… all too clearly did I recall it: the moment when Her Highness was knelt beside the legate Myrd as he showed his true and principicidal colours —and withal the countless bombs girt to his person. But wasting no time, Rolf had plucked the princess from danger before striking Myrd clear across the room. Had such heroism not been assayed, then His Majesty would have now a daughter to mourn. And like as not, the rest of us there would’ve shared her burning grave. And so ’twas that once more had I been saved by Rolf.
“Very good,” said the princess. “That is solace to mine ears.”
She then smiled lightly. But I, none the more lightened, turned to my own person, and to the burns that were upon it—the same wrought by that blast, by forces hot and gusting, unodyllic yet intangible… the very sort against which no paling may avail.
“…”
I grimaced. For this was all. These few burns were aught and all that I’d been dealt. The flying stones? The shooting timbers? None of that had proved any effect against my paling—a result I should’ve prevised the instant I beheld the bombs upon Myrd’s body. And so ought dealing with him have been my responsibility, my sworn duty at that moment. All the long years of training, of honing the strength and speed of my palecraft… for what? To but stand dumb and watch a defenceless Rolf swiftly save the princess in my stead? To but observe that virago of a jarl-daughter, Lise, slay the mad legate thereafter?
Nay. Such was precisely what’d happened. I hadn’t moved as I should’ve done. I hadn’t. Although in my defence, neither had I stayed idle for long, for as soon as sense and action allowed, I’d flown forth to shield Her Highness, and so spared her the violence of the blast. But even so, I could not help but feel myself yet lacking to compare, whether in deed or quality.
“Nevertheless, still more and more clearly must we mark friend from foe,” Her Highness cautioned. “Forlorn as we are, we can ill-endure another deceit.”
“’Tis as you say, Highness,” I affirmed, though not without a pang in my bosom. For ’twas my greatest regret to have mismarked in the past him who deserved my utmost trust… to have not acted as ought a “friend” when bombs and martyrdom had threatened to end us all.
But as I brooded so, I became aware asudden of a silent Raakel beside me.
“…”
There was she stooped, and wearing upon her face a look that… that was rather harsh and grim in a way most unlike her. The topic must’ve raked some nerves of hers, I supposed. The two never had got on, after all, Rolf and Raakel. It’d been my hope that their reunion today might bring some remedy to that, but alas.
Nay, she wasn’t at all the unsociable kind. Really, Raakel was a friend, and a merry and trusty one, at that. Both she and Rolf truly could get along, I fastly believed. Thus did I wish to return to Norden, to the 5th headquarters, along with everyone safe and sound, Rolf included. And then might we start to make amends. Such would be the best for us all. Such I didn’t want to give up on, no matter what.
“Might I have spoken ill?” Her Highness said sadly. “I must apologise; the battlefield is foreign to me.”
’Twould seem there was some misunderstanding. But that was forgivable. If met with my brooding and Raakel’s sullen mien, anyone would think themselves at fault for having slipped the tongue.
“Nay, not at all,” I assured her. “Your Highness has spoken the right of it.”
’Twas then that His Excellency the Lord Hugo, who’d been anxious and quiet all this time, came plodding close. “Your Mightiness,” he whispered to me politely, though tensely. “Uncalloused by combat, too, though I am, might I propose we seek some walled respite?”
That certainly would be ideal, were it possible: to couch and bide someplace till came some good turn to this plight. Of course, bristling now as ’twas, the studitōrium was out of the question, but any other building ought serve that well enough. Sadly, however, such a building, much less so convenient a hiding place, was nowhere at hand to be found.
“Let us forget the main gate, then, and wend westwards first,” I answered. “And then we shall see.”
“The west!” echoed the chancellor hopefully. “Yes, yonder thereabout does indeed stand a great college, if memory serves.”
I shook my head. “That we must avoid,” I replied. “With all its crannies and corridors, we would be too easily beset or surrounded.”
“Hrm… I see,” the chancellor greyly conceded.
Were battle our aim, then roof and wall ought avail us much, that is sure. There could we funnel the enemy to a more manageable size, something otherwise hard-going in the outdoors. To force the opposition into odds more equitable is ever the standard when disadvantaged in numbers.
…Except that fighting was not our aim. Were it but Raakel and myself, then very well. But nay: so long as there was Her Highness to look after, then at all times did we require at hand some easy way of escape, and a building so maze-like certainly didn’t fit the bill. No… our present course, of braving the open, was for the better, precarious though it very much was.
Concerned all the more for our precious charges, I returned to peering about and charting our next course. But as I did so, my eyes soon halted.
There, further in the gardens, spanned a bed of flowers. And in it, there grew a burst of little white flowers: lilies-of-the-valley, all nodding daintily in the breeze. It took me back. Back to the flower-flooded fields of Buckmann. Back to the hill awash in the white, whence we would sit so oft—myself and Felicia, and…
My shoulders sank. Were Rolf only here… I thought again to myself.
Oh, how many more times must I do so? How many times had I done so over this past year and a half? Enemies brimmed and prowled, and yet here I was, almost wholly without my knights. How hopeless I felt, how utterly alone. Is it the same for Rolf? I wondered then. Might the uncertainty, the solitude, be pressing upon him at this moment?
…Nay. Of course not. For what’d he done back at the Erbelde, lost and frightfully wounded though he was? And also Godrika: what’d he done when that dread catoblepas hunted him through all those lightless tunnels?
He’d fought. All alone and with nary a blade in hand, he had fought. And what’s more, he had won through. For Rolf was strong. No matter what anyone might say, Rolf was stern and strong and constant. And this I knew, more than any other. Or at least, I…
“…Hh!”
At that moment, my ears pricked asudden. Somewhere ahead, there played the rustle of stealthy feet. I turned back to Raakel, who, seeming also to have perceived it, nodded to me gravely.
After signing to her to stay with our charges, I crept forth through the garden greenery. Ahead grew hedges thick and tall, behind whence the sound was issuing.
Many feet there were in the footfalls. But more than half had got nary the steady, booted strides of soldiers. Were non-combatants amongst them, then? Taken in tow like our princess and chancellor? Then so ought have they heard us, I began to fear.
Preparing for the worst, I slowly and quietly drew my silver blade. And after sidling up to and creeping along the hedges, I waited… and sprang!
But after veering swiftly about the leafy side, I was met with the sight of weapons just as poised—
—and a much-annoyed scoff.
“Now there’s a face unsought,” the figure now afore me snarled.
“Likewise,” I returned.
Hair long and tinselly golden. Eyes sickeningly emerald. Daggers held crosswise in a most affected fashion—’twas Lise, that dratted jarl-daughter.
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