Fraldarius Castle - Evening - Cold
Cyril Eisner
It wasn't all that long, in the grand scheme of things, between the time they had last left the Fraldarius Duchy and now, when they returned to it.
And yet for Cyril at least, things almost couldn't be more different.
The lion's share of that difference was presently riding right next to him. Though no few of the Duscur troops had winged mounts, they were riding at ground level in hopes of attracting less attention. Going was faster for this group than it would be for those who followed with most of the civilians, but it was safer that way for everyone involved. This group had further to go, eventually, and had already fought off at least one large bandit troop that hadn't survived to inflict themselves upon the noncombatants to follow.
Now, they once again drew within sight of Fraldarius Castle. The reception, however, was quite different. Where before the understandably-wary guards had pointed spears at them, on this occasion Cyril showed them the seal he'd been given, and they were immediately ushered into the grounds proper. It was quite possible that one or two of those present recognized Senka, but if so no one approached her to ask the obvious question.
When Cyril dismounted, he extended a hand up towards her, not because she needed the assistance but because he liked making the gesture. And, perhaps, because he liked the simple pleasure of her hand in his. There were certainly still things that lay between them—he'd not yet gotten around to telling her exactly what had happened to him, and they were still in some sense getting reacquainted. But there was a deep and abiding live beneath that, and so he knew that with time, things would mend.
Right now he suspected she might appreciate his support, as she revealed herself to her uncle. Cyril had a strong suspicion that Rodrigue would be nothing but surprised and overjoyed to see her, but in a way he suspected that would be harder on Senka than suspicion or scolding, because she held herself responsible for not having remained in contact with her friends and allies.
Either way, he wanted her to know he was here, and that come what may, he was on her side.
She took his hand and dismounted Liev, taking a shaky breath as they waited for Rodrigue to receive them. She glanced at him, smiling softly before she squeezed his hand. “Thank you," she spoke, though it was unclear as to what she was thanking him for. The support he was offering her, or for helping her dismount. It was likely the former because her grip tightened when Rodrigue appeared. She all but took a step back as if to use Cyril as a shield, to hide her from Rodrigue's eyes.
He didn't notice her at first.
“It seems you were successful," he spoke, a weary smile on his face. “If you need a place to rest, you may all use my home for the time. I'm afraid I have even less to offer this time around, but you are welcome to whatever I can spare," he continued. Mercer stepped forward, though.
“Actually, Lord Fraldarius, we have something of a favor to ask. Well, she would like to ask," he spoke, glancing in Cyril's direction, and pursing his lips when Senka had yet to step out from behind him.
Cyril turned slightly, still letting her be concealed by his body, but so he could meet her eyes properly. “Senka," he said, softly enough that he knew he wouldn't give her away accidentally. “It's going to be all right. He's family. He loves you." He lifted his free hand to the side of her face, tilting his head and smiling, just the smallest bit, down at her. It was one she'd recognize—one of the soft ones that had belonged only to her since she'd first pulled it from him. “We all do."
She swallowed, and nodded her head. “Okay," she whispered softly. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped forward, her hand still connected to his, as she glanced at Rodrigue. For a moment, Rodrigue paled. It looked like he'd just seen a ghost, and for all intents and purposes, he did. They had all thought she was dead, and like when they'd first arrived in Fraldarius, Rodrigue descended the stairs. He'd almost tripped on his way down, perhaps because he looked as fatigued as ever, but he managed to catch himself and swiftly took both Senka and Cyril into his arms. The embrace was at once warm and heavy, and Rodrigue's shoulders shook.
“Senka," he nearly choked out. She placed her free hand over Rodrigue's back, holding him as tightly as she was holding onto Cyril's hand as tears escaped her. “You're alive. You're alive," he repeated almost as if he couldn't quite believe it.
“I'm sorry, uncle," she whispered out softly, burrying her face into Rodrigue's shoulder. “I'm so sorry I never told you," she continued, but he shook his head.
“It doesn't matter. You're alive. All this time... I thought you were dead, but you're alive. Both of you are alive; thank the goddess," he stated, finally releasing both of them. “Come, we have much to discuss. Please," he stated, ushering them towards his home, once again.
It was sort of an unfamiliar experience. Cyril's own father had loved him—he knew this. But he'd never been one for such outward displays of affection, and he had no idea what he'd done to earn such from Rodrigue. It felt... nice, though, in a way he hadn't expected. He, too, had returned the embrace with his free arm, and still held to Senka's hand as they led the others up the castle stairs. Most, the soldiers with the Duscur, broke off there, to be led to the barracks where they'd stay. The others, though, the small group of ten, followed Rodrigue back to the same study as before.
Cyril took a seat on one of the sofas, shifting his grip on Senka's hand so she could sit comfortably beside him, but not letting go of it.
Once everyone else was seated, Rodrigue sat at the head of the table, and smiled warmly in their direction. “So, what is it that you'd like to ask," he spoke, his voice soft and still filled with emotion. “If it is within my power to do so, I will grant it, Senka. You know I would," he continued, causing her to furrow her brows.
“What I'm going to ask is a lot," she began, lifting her gaze to keep it with Rodrigue's. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head. “It is, uncle. Please hear me out before you say anything," she continued before he could say anything. He nodded his head as if to tell her to continue. She took in a deep breath, rubbing her thumb over Cyril's hand in an absentminded fashion, it seemed. As if she were trying to draw strength from his hand, alone. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“As you know, Duscur has finally been liberated from Kleiman, however; we don't have a place to go. Cornelia will try and claim the lands, and she will win with her sizeable army. I do not have the troops to protect my people, and there are those who cannot fight. They need a place to stay until they can recover, however." she paused to sigh softly.
“I cannot take the vast majority of my army to the Alliance, either. I need to separate them, and Espera will stay behind to help reinforce you with the other half of the soldiers still hiding in Duscur."
Rodrigue seemed to contemplate this, his brows furrowing deeply. Cyril could feel Senka's hand tighten around his, as if she were afraid that he would refuse.
“It is in fact a lot to ask," Cyril added, carefully lacing his fingers with Senka's. “But we have hope that we can reconquer Alliance territory in half a year. And once we've done that, the next obvious move is to march the army into Faerghus to reinforce yours. It's a risk, and I understand that for that half a year, it will strain your resources. But it's the best chance we have at doing anything but losing slowly, and the soldiers that stay behind will surely be of some assistance at the border in the meantime."
Mercer nodded his head in agreement. “Even with the troops we will be taking with us, it'll give us the numbers we need to break through. And I've said before, you have my word that we will come back to help Faerghus. I owe her that much, as well," Mercer spoke softly, his eyes dropping for a moment before they shifted towards Cyril and Senka.
“And when we have Faerghus back, it'll be two nations against the Imperial army. We'll finally have a decent chance at righting the wrongs in the world." Mercer spoke with a little more confidence, then, as if he truly believed that they could. Perhaps he did?
“Those who are left behind will be able to fend for themselves. They are excellent hunters and gatherers. You may even find that your resources will be somewhat replenished with their help. It is a lot to ask, uncle, but I trust no one else to be able to do this. Family or not, I trust you to take care of them for me until I can return."
Rodrigue remained silent a moment longer before a small smile formed on his lips. “Alright. My troops will welcome the support, and those who cannot fight will do what they can to help out. I will do this for you, Senka, but promise me something," he agreed, however; his eyes turned a bit hard as he stared at her. She stiffened slightly beneath the gaze. “Promise me that you will not keep me in the dark, any longer. You used to write to me about everything," his eyes shifted to Cyril, then. “You even wrote to me about how you'd asked that one to marry you in a few years when you reclaimed Duscur. I hope that still stands, now that you have," he stated, the briefest smiles crossing his lips.
For a moment, Senka blinked before she swallowed thickly. There was a faint color appearing on her face as she dropped her gaze from Rodrigue's who merely chuckled. Even Mercer managed to crack a small smile, then.
“I... um," she seemed at a lost for words, before she shook her head. “Thank you, uncle," she stated, intent on not speaking on the previous subject.
She had written—?
Cyril supposed he should not be so surprised. They'd been rather certain of their plans, back then. But so much was up in the air right now, and though the hesitation stung a little, he understood it. They barely knew where they'd be in a week, never mind a month or however long it would take to end this war. And besides, even if the hurts he had done her were forgiven, he doubted they would be so easy to forget. He hoped that someday they would no longer hurt, that she would be able to trust him not to hurt her again, but he was resolved to give things as much time as they needed. And not to hurry just because five years had felt like so much less to him.
“We'll... keep you apprised," he said softly, answering Rodrigue's query hopefully directly enough that he wouldn't press it.
“Before we go though... I think there is one more thing we should attend to. As we are now officially a multinational army, we need a leader. Not because any of the faction leaders cannot manage it, but because the role should be filled. We need to be one whole when we march, not disparate parts." He paused, glancing over the others. “Truthfully, I feel anyone in this room would be qualified to do that, and I'm not only saying that because I taught all but one of you how."
Reynard and Devon chuckled softly; even Vridel cracked a smile.
“But if the rest of you are agreeable, I think it makes most sense for that person to be Mercer. He's been at the front of this fight since it began, and none of us would be sitting here today if not for his efforts."
“Agreed," Vridel said immediately.
Mercer's eyes widened at the suggestion. “Wait, why me?" he stated, seemingly skeptical about the suggestion.
“I think Professor has a point, Mercer," Thea spoke this time, her eyes softening as she smiled at him. “You've been doing this since the beginning. Lyanna and I have only managed the monastery, keeping the bandits at bay, while Vridel was in Brigid. Senka was in Duscur trying to get her homeland, back, but you've been fighting the Imperial army this entire time. They are wary of you, and your strategies, Merc."
“I am in agreement as well. Mercer you're a brilliant strategist and leader, even before this. You'll lead us well. I truly believe this," Senka added, her expression softening in his direction. Mercer looked taken aback before a small smile tugged at his lips. He shook his head and huffed lightly.
“As long as Teach agrees to be my advisor, then I'll take it." His eyes were on Cyril, then.
Cyril snorted softly. “I can do that much, I think."
It wouldn't be so different from being a professor, he supposed.
And yet for Cyril at least, things almost couldn't be more different.
The lion's share of that difference was presently riding right next to him. Though no few of the Duscur troops had winged mounts, they were riding at ground level in hopes of attracting less attention. Going was faster for this group than it would be for those who followed with most of the civilians, but it was safer that way for everyone involved. This group had further to go, eventually, and had already fought off at least one large bandit troop that hadn't survived to inflict themselves upon the noncombatants to follow.
Now, they once again drew within sight of Fraldarius Castle. The reception, however, was quite different. Where before the understandably-wary guards had pointed spears at them, on this occasion Cyril showed them the seal he'd been given, and they were immediately ushered into the grounds proper. It was quite possible that one or two of those present recognized Senka, but if so no one approached her to ask the obvious question.
When Cyril dismounted, he extended a hand up towards her, not because she needed the assistance but because he liked making the gesture. And, perhaps, because he liked the simple pleasure of her hand in his. There were certainly still things that lay between them—he'd not yet gotten around to telling her exactly what had happened to him, and they were still in some sense getting reacquainted. But there was a deep and abiding live beneath that, and so he knew that with time, things would mend.
Right now he suspected she might appreciate his support, as she revealed herself to her uncle. Cyril had a strong suspicion that Rodrigue would be nothing but surprised and overjoyed to see her, but in a way he suspected that would be harder on Senka than suspicion or scolding, because she held herself responsible for not having remained in contact with her friends and allies.
Either way, he wanted her to know he was here, and that come what may, he was on her side.
She took his hand and dismounted Liev, taking a shaky breath as they waited for Rodrigue to receive them. She glanced at him, smiling softly before she squeezed his hand. “Thank you," she spoke, though it was unclear as to what she was thanking him for. The support he was offering her, or for helping her dismount. It was likely the former because her grip tightened when Rodrigue appeared. She all but took a step back as if to use Cyril as a shield, to hide her from Rodrigue's eyes.
He didn't notice her at first.
“It seems you were successful," he spoke, a weary smile on his face. “If you need a place to rest, you may all use my home for the time. I'm afraid I have even less to offer this time around, but you are welcome to whatever I can spare," he continued. Mercer stepped forward, though.
“Actually, Lord Fraldarius, we have something of a favor to ask. Well, she would like to ask," he spoke, glancing in Cyril's direction, and pursing his lips when Senka had yet to step out from behind him.
Cyril turned slightly, still letting her be concealed by his body, but so he could meet her eyes properly. “Senka," he said, softly enough that he knew he wouldn't give her away accidentally. “It's going to be all right. He's family. He loves you." He lifted his free hand to the side of her face, tilting his head and smiling, just the smallest bit, down at her. It was one she'd recognize—one of the soft ones that had belonged only to her since she'd first pulled it from him. “We all do."
She swallowed, and nodded her head. “Okay," she whispered softly. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped forward, her hand still connected to his, as she glanced at Rodrigue. For a moment, Rodrigue paled. It looked like he'd just seen a ghost, and for all intents and purposes, he did. They had all thought she was dead, and like when they'd first arrived in Fraldarius, Rodrigue descended the stairs. He'd almost tripped on his way down, perhaps because he looked as fatigued as ever, but he managed to catch himself and swiftly took both Senka and Cyril into his arms. The embrace was at once warm and heavy, and Rodrigue's shoulders shook.
“Senka," he nearly choked out. She placed her free hand over Rodrigue's back, holding him as tightly as she was holding onto Cyril's hand as tears escaped her. “You're alive. You're alive," he repeated almost as if he couldn't quite believe it.
“I'm sorry, uncle," she whispered out softly, burrying her face into Rodrigue's shoulder. “I'm so sorry I never told you," she continued, but he shook his head.
“It doesn't matter. You're alive. All this time... I thought you were dead, but you're alive. Both of you are alive; thank the goddess," he stated, finally releasing both of them. “Come, we have much to discuss. Please," he stated, ushering them towards his home, once again.
It was sort of an unfamiliar experience. Cyril's own father had loved him—he knew this. But he'd never been one for such outward displays of affection, and he had no idea what he'd done to earn such from Rodrigue. It felt... nice, though, in a way he hadn't expected. He, too, had returned the embrace with his free arm, and still held to Senka's hand as they led the others up the castle stairs. Most, the soldiers with the Duscur, broke off there, to be led to the barracks where they'd stay. The others, though, the small group of ten, followed Rodrigue back to the same study as before.
Cyril took a seat on one of the sofas, shifting his grip on Senka's hand so she could sit comfortably beside him, but not letting go of it.
Once everyone else was seated, Rodrigue sat at the head of the table, and smiled warmly in their direction. “So, what is it that you'd like to ask," he spoke, his voice soft and still filled with emotion. “If it is within my power to do so, I will grant it, Senka. You know I would," he continued, causing her to furrow her brows.
“What I'm going to ask is a lot," she began, lifting her gaze to keep it with Rodrigue's. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head. “It is, uncle. Please hear me out before you say anything," she continued before he could say anything. He nodded his head as if to tell her to continue. She took in a deep breath, rubbing her thumb over Cyril's hand in an absentminded fashion, it seemed. As if she were trying to draw strength from his hand, alone. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“As you know, Duscur has finally been liberated from Kleiman, however; we don't have a place to go. Cornelia will try and claim the lands, and she will win with her sizeable army. I do not have the troops to protect my people, and there are those who cannot fight. They need a place to stay until they can recover, however." she paused to sigh softly.
“I cannot take the vast majority of my army to the Alliance, either. I need to separate them, and Espera will stay behind to help reinforce you with the other half of the soldiers still hiding in Duscur."
Rodrigue seemed to contemplate this, his brows furrowing deeply. Cyril could feel Senka's hand tighten around his, as if she were afraid that he would refuse.
“It is in fact a lot to ask," Cyril added, carefully lacing his fingers with Senka's. “But we have hope that we can reconquer Alliance territory in half a year. And once we've done that, the next obvious move is to march the army into Faerghus to reinforce yours. It's a risk, and I understand that for that half a year, it will strain your resources. But it's the best chance we have at doing anything but losing slowly, and the soldiers that stay behind will surely be of some assistance at the border in the meantime."
Mercer nodded his head in agreement. “Even with the troops we will be taking with us, it'll give us the numbers we need to break through. And I've said before, you have my word that we will come back to help Faerghus. I owe her that much, as well," Mercer spoke softly, his eyes dropping for a moment before they shifted towards Cyril and Senka.
“And when we have Faerghus back, it'll be two nations against the Imperial army. We'll finally have a decent chance at righting the wrongs in the world." Mercer spoke with a little more confidence, then, as if he truly believed that they could. Perhaps he did?
“Those who are left behind will be able to fend for themselves. They are excellent hunters and gatherers. You may even find that your resources will be somewhat replenished with their help. It is a lot to ask, uncle, but I trust no one else to be able to do this. Family or not, I trust you to take care of them for me until I can return."
Rodrigue remained silent a moment longer before a small smile formed on his lips. “Alright. My troops will welcome the support, and those who cannot fight will do what they can to help out. I will do this for you, Senka, but promise me something," he agreed, however; his eyes turned a bit hard as he stared at her. She stiffened slightly beneath the gaze. “Promise me that you will not keep me in the dark, any longer. You used to write to me about everything," his eyes shifted to Cyril, then. “You even wrote to me about how you'd asked that one to marry you in a few years when you reclaimed Duscur. I hope that still stands, now that you have," he stated, the briefest smiles crossing his lips.
For a moment, Senka blinked before she swallowed thickly. There was a faint color appearing on her face as she dropped her gaze from Rodrigue's who merely chuckled. Even Mercer managed to crack a small smile, then.
“I... um," she seemed at a lost for words, before she shook her head. “Thank you, uncle," she stated, intent on not speaking on the previous subject.
She had written—?
Cyril supposed he should not be so surprised. They'd been rather certain of their plans, back then. But so much was up in the air right now, and though the hesitation stung a little, he understood it. They barely knew where they'd be in a week, never mind a month or however long it would take to end this war. And besides, even if the hurts he had done her were forgiven, he doubted they would be so easy to forget. He hoped that someday they would no longer hurt, that she would be able to trust him not to hurt her again, but he was resolved to give things as much time as they needed. And not to hurry just because five years had felt like so much less to him.
“We'll... keep you apprised," he said softly, answering Rodrigue's query hopefully directly enough that he wouldn't press it.
“Before we go though... I think there is one more thing we should attend to. As we are now officially a multinational army, we need a leader. Not because any of the faction leaders cannot manage it, but because the role should be filled. We need to be one whole when we march, not disparate parts." He paused, glancing over the others. “Truthfully, I feel anyone in this room would be qualified to do that, and I'm not only saying that because I taught all but one of you how."
Reynard and Devon chuckled softly; even Vridel cracked a smile.
“But if the rest of you are agreeable, I think it makes most sense for that person to be Mercer. He's been at the front of this fight since it began, and none of us would be sitting here today if not for his efforts."
“Agreed," Vridel said immediately.
Mercer's eyes widened at the suggestion. “Wait, why me?" he stated, seemingly skeptical about the suggestion.
“I think Professor has a point, Mercer," Thea spoke this time, her eyes softening as she smiled at him. “You've been doing this since the beginning. Lyanna and I have only managed the monastery, keeping the bandits at bay, while Vridel was in Brigid. Senka was in Duscur trying to get her homeland, back, but you've been fighting the Imperial army this entire time. They are wary of you, and your strategies, Merc."
“I am in agreement as well. Mercer you're a brilliant strategist and leader, even before this. You'll lead us well. I truly believe this," Senka added, her expression softening in his direction. Mercer looked taken aback before a small smile tugged at his lips. He shook his head and huffed lightly.
“As long as Teach agrees to be my advisor, then I'll take it." His eyes were on Cyril, then.
Cyril snorted softly. “I can do that much, I think."
It wouldn't be so different from being a professor, he supposed.