QElwynD
patreon
Rebellion - 10
🕑 Added 2023-08-19 09:00:05 +0000 UTC"–so while it doesn't mean that you have to act in any professional capacity and you wouldn't be expected to provide classes for students, unless you want to of course, it's very prestigious!" Frazzle explained exuberantly as she managed half a dozen saucepans and pots simmering away on the stove, having decided to go all out on tonight's dinner after she came back to find me in tears. "Any recognition at all from one of the Threefold Universities is a very big deal!"
"I can imagine, but–"
"I'm not sure of the particulars of what being a 'prophet' recognised by the College of Divination means but, at a guess, with a decent degree of accuracy based on my own aspirations..." She tapped her chin. "You see, much as an inventor's patents are recognised and added to the University of Mechanical Brilliance's archives, spell formulas, enchanting matrices, complete manaform studies, and functioning thaumaturgical rituals are all..."
She trailed off as she noticed my bemused, and somewhat impatient expression. "Ah. Well, that is I mean, your prophecies would undoubtedly be added to the records of the college."
Shaking my head as I kept up stroking Tricks, I held back a laugh. "As much as I appreciate the detailed explanation of what it means, all I asked was why it was in short-form."
Not that Frazzle's impressively detailed explanation hadn't drastically expanded on what I'd gotten out of it, or focused on aspects I'd brushed over, but it really hadn't been what I asked. The letter from her great aunt, which she'd tried to use to 'cheer me up', not seeming to recognise how to deal with my crying, had been... very abrupt.
Warning: Sufficient. Troggs: Expelled.
Khaz Modan: Stable. Armies: Rearming; awaiting mobilisation order.
Prophet Status: Recognised circa 2449 AF by College of Divination, Thaumaturgical University of Gnomeregan; notarised by: K. Tindersnap, Archmage; G. Mekkatorque, High Tinker; M. Bronzebeard, King of Ironforge.
Thanks for caring for Fralatina this last year. – Kinder Tindersnap.
Personally, the whole signed by Gelbin Mekkatorque and Magni Bronzebeard seemed more important than the College of Divination, but Frazzle hadn't exactly agreed, had she?
And as much as I was very glad that what I'd told them had helped, that Gnomeregan wouldn't suffer like it had, the emotional impact of knowing that they'd listened to me was definitely playing second fiddle to Trix's letter.
"Ah..." Frazzle flushed with embarrassment, immediately turning away and refocused on her cooking where I couldn't see her face. "Well, you see, there's a lack of ley lines which makes messaging..."
Her explanation, this time on what I actually asked, lasted all the way through the meal. Delving into the exact methods by which Dalaran handled sending messages across the city, and to even more distant places, which were all rather non-functional in magically lacking Gilneas.
It wasn't terribly useful information to me, though it made clear that the ravens were the best we'd get here – and certainly better than most got – but left me with one, final, burning question.
"Have I been using the wrong name all this time, Fralatina?" I asked, watching as her face fell through disgust, horror, and soul-deep agony in mere moments. It was one of the most amusing sight's I'd seen in months. "I'm sorry, Fralatina, I'll–"
Her hands slammed onto the table. "My name is Frazzle!" She roared squeakily – gnomes were not built for roaring.
Pushed over the edge by the sight, I started giggling.
It wasn't kind nor particularly friendly of me, but seeing Frazzle like this was deeply amusing for some reason.
Frazzle's face twitched as she looked at me, settling on deep-seated disgruntlement as she threw herself back into her chair with crossed arms. "It isn't funny." She grumbled. "I went through so much effort to officially change my name, and my deaf old aunt won't recognise that I changed it! And she's the only one!"
"Okay... Fra–" I paused briefly, getting an adorably fierce glare. "–zzle. So long as it's official." Kind of a shame I hadn't revealed my reincarnation to her, I'd changed my own name in that life.
She narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously for a few moments before smiling again. "Thank you!"
Actually, thinking about it, I should find out how to do that here so I could make the Elwyn addition I'd decided upon official as well. But that was something to pursue when the country, and world, were significantly less on fire. Which... might be a while.
-oOoOo-
Outside of Tricks’ irritation at being left behind again, my return to the front lines in the Northern Headlands was uneventful. Here and there a few hours of inclement weather impeded my progress, and I spent a little over a day searching for the army along the roads to and from Tulvan Keep, but it was still an easy journey.
From the air, the changes the last week had brought to the army were plainly visible; what had once been a single battalion of a thousand soldiers had swelled into nearly ten times that marching down the road.
Yet, for all it was an impressive showing of the support people had for the rebellion – or perhaps just Lady Tulvan – I couldn't help but wonder what cost there would be for their presence. The professional army, the core of trained men and women whose livelihood was war, weren't the ones making up this force.
As I landed at the edge of the camp and, after transforming in secret, made my way in, it only made it more plain to me. Those with training were working hard to bring those without up to some degree of standard, the young laughed and joked without truly understanding what they were getting into; these were farmers, craftsmen, merchants, sons, daughters, and so many others.
At best reservists and militia, but for the most part civilian volunteers and plain feudal levies.
It was a concern, but it was one for later. Fields that were left unplanted could be accounted for with magic, as we had done before. Trade goods were worthless without partners to trade with. Remaining isolated would cost us more in the long run than to surrender this war.
I accepted what was happening, knew it was necessary, but couldn't just ignore the costs. Not when they niggled at my mind, reminding me this was, at least in part, my responsibility.
Spying the Mistmantle and Merrowfall banners I was tempted to go see Vivi first, to reunite with her after my flight. But I had responsibilities to handle first – Tulvan's place in the force was, if anything, too obvious.
Though the security was actually decent. "Do you really think one of the king's agents is going to imitate me?" I asked rhetorically as I was held up by members of her household guard. "I would think I'm pretty damn distinctive; especially with these." I gestured at the drifting starlights I was using for illumination. "Seriously."
One of them glared at me irritably. "Quiet, Witch. After the last attempt, we are taking no chances."
"With the mage Godfrey is employing, illusions have become a concern." A second said in a more even tone. "And you have been absent, without word, for some time."
Huffing I crossed my arms and waited.
Frustrating as the delay was, getting to see people like the duchess immediately like I often did was unusual. After the first hour, where I sincerely regretted my decision to not visit Vivi, I got the feeling it was also a power play.
She had the authority to keep me waiting as the commander of the army, and so she did to remind me that despite my vanishing act I was here to support her and not the other way around.
In the end, it was Howard who came, confirmed my identity, and led me to see the grumpy duchess in her command tent where she was waiting with a number of other lords... And then immediately abandoned me the moment he had declared my presence, citing a need to handle the preparations for something.
"Lady Tulvan," I offered greetings with a perfunctorily polite curtsy after he left, "I have reports from Lord Crowley on the advances made in the Ember Hills–"
"Hand them over." Tulvan snapped, holding out a hand, and the moment I withdrew Darius' letters from my coat, she snatched them away and tore them open with a knife. "Hmm. Walden is dealt with, good. Bumbling fools always relied too much on their peasants’ faith to assure loyalty so no doubt the bishops turned them easily enough. Their lords would be fools not to follow."
Bowford, along with a great number of others I had zero knowledge of, responded with a mixed murmur of agreement and laughter.
She stared at me with a frown and tossed the first letter aside to drum her fingers on her desk. "Bowford, reallocate the supplies; we have our witch again. The rest of you, get out."
"Milady–"
"Out."
With her eyes fixed upon me, I didn't move. The intent was clear enough for anyone to make out. "You wished to ask me something, I assume?"
"There are many uses for the ability to traverse great distances at will, especially upon a powerful piece in war." Tulvan leaned back in her chair, her expression only darkening further. "To strike at the enemy from an unknown angle, to scout foes before they know of our presence. Supporting multiple forces as they act independently and ensure none are left unprotected. Simply carrying messages is a waste of your talents."
Taken aback, I hesitated before responding. "While I was making sure the worgen we encountered was truly alone I sent letters by raven to Darius, as the sender I received them back. Are you saying I can teleport?" I snorted and shook my head, trying to put on an appropriately sad smile. "I wish I could; do you know how much easier that would make things for me?"
Lying had never been something I enjoyed in either of my lives, but unless someone got me laughing... I was decent at it.
At keeping a straight face, anyway. Not so much coming up with good ones.
Why I remembered blaming deleting my mum's Banjo Kazooie saves on a ghost I had no idea, yet I did...
But from the way Tulvan stared flatly at me, utterly devoid of any expression, told me that she didn't believe me. Too many coincidences for her to ignore, or maybe my hesitation had given it away.
In either case, she didn't press me further. Simply waiting and watching for a painfully long few minutes before she opened the other letters.
Only when she was on the very last did she utter another word, and it came in the form of a rhyme. "Ware the woods, the beasts untamed, for forms three do eld so claim; of ravens in night dire and still, of foxes grim and desiring thrill, of boughs tall and towering will."
She had a rhyme about our patrons? I was surprised, not to the point of being shocked or taken aback, but it wasn't something I had been expecting.
"Pretty," I said after a few moments’ thought, "though I will point out that the raven, fox, and Wild Home are our gods, not our forms." Technically even true, as no one served as Speaker for Tal'Doren nor took on the great tree's form.
But the rhyme certainly added to why she had her suspicions about my ability to move around swiftly.
Ignoring me, Tulvan finished reading the last letter from Darius and laid it down. "You will go with a detachment under the command of Lord Meringale–"
I opened my mouth to protest, but she just rolled her eyes.
"–Lords Mistmantle and Merrowfall, along with your paramour, are already assigned to his brigade. I wouldn't even consider separating you from the Mistmantle girl, rose-blind as the both of you are." She shook her head in exasperation. "Your task is to advance through the Esting Woods and cut off Godfrey's retreat. Be warned, he has magical support in the form of at least one mage."
"Understood." Disappointing that some of them would join the king's forces... but inevitable.
"Sodding wretch has made our advance miserable, even with my chapel priests and an additional witch he keeps ahead of us easily. Cut him off, deal with his forces, and it will be a simple matter to clean up the rest of my rebellious lords." She sneered. "When all is said and done, we should be able to join up with Darius' advance by midsummer."
-oOoOo-
"D'you see that?" One of the men said as I walked down the column, undoing some of the damage our passage made to the forest around us. Easing the path forward and then restoring it behind; my days were remarkably monotonous on this march.
Not that I was entirely unhappy. The Esting Woods were a particularly impressive example of how conservation as a concept originally came to be in my old world; lying in a wide valley replete with babbling streams, waterfalls, clifftop vistas, ancient trees, and truly plentiful game, the beautiful forest had been made into a private reserve for lordly hunts.
Free from the threat of logging, clearing, harvesting, or excessive interference, the forest and all the wild things here thrived.
It was no Blackwald by any means, but I had to agree with Lord Meringale's love of the place. Even if I didn't so much care for the young lord's attempts to woo Vivi with so many stories of hunts he went on here as a boy.
"Just a bird, James." Another soldier answered with a shrug. "Big one, sure, but a bird."
"You sure it ain't a dragon? Gotta be high up there."
"Gettin' bigger too."
Mildly curious I looked up, blinking as I stared into the bright blue of the afternoon sky. Sure enough, there was a big smudge up there, high enough to be drifting in amongst the few wispy clouds that hung there, but slowly descending.
It only took me a moment to recognise them and, seeing that they already noticed us, I gathered Astral light from the sky and shaped it into a replica of the Mistmantle sigil above us.
Not above the canopy of course, giant magical signs in the sky would give away our position and I wasn't that stupid. Lord Meringale might have some complaints about it on that front regardless... but, honestly, I was bending the forest out of our way. Anyone who might see it would already be able to see the forest warping around us to let us through.
"The flyer's friendly." I said to the men. "You," I gestured to the one who'd first spotted them, "get part of last night's hunt for Donovan when they land, and send a runner to the rearguard with Lord Mistmantle."
"Aye ma'am!" He snapped a salute before trotting down the line.
Around me others stopped to peer upward, making a mess of the march. "Cor, tha' really her?"
"Ain't gonna be no one else, sure."
I clapped my hands loudly. "Keep moving. You'll have your chance to gawk later – assuming, of course, your sergeant doesn't punish you for the delay." Nodding to said woman, who startled out of her own gazing to start barking at them, I made my way up the column.
We weren't likely to come to a halt any earlier than the evening even with Lorna's presence, the planning demanded we arrive as far ahead of Godfrey as we could, but the rest of our leadership still needed to be informed.
-oOoOo-
"Hmm." I kept my eyes focused as I made a show of examining the youngest of the Candren family, a young boy of eight who was putting on a brave face. "Nothing major; a minor chill, some saddle sores – which I've eased up a little – but nothing dangerous." I let go of the boy's hand and offered him a smile as I stepped back.
"Good. Good." Lady Candren replied, pulling him closer into her lap and shutting her eyes while her elder son put his hand on her shoulder.
With the worrying mother satisfied I bowed and retreated, hopping off of the wagon and giving the worrying family privacy.
Things weren't going well in the Headlands; there were more than enough people there that disliked the king, and Lord Candren was putting up a fight, but even without detailed reports, him asking that Lorna evacuate his family out of the king's way...
It painted a bleak picture for the rebel cause in the west.
Walking up to and keeping pace with Donovan and Lorna, I ignored Lord Meringale's attempt to integrate himself with her to run my hand through the gryphon's feathers. Nothing more than a little fatigue, which was to be expected really. Giving him a scratch along his eye ridge I received a deep croon of appreciation. "Good work, Don. Best gryphon in all of Gilneas."
He puffed himself up a little at the praise, not quite understanding me well enough to get the qualifier. He really was a good gryphon, but I'd always have a soft spot for Featherstorm.
"And what about me?" Lorna asked, looking down at me with trembling lower lip begging for praise.
Rolling my eyes, and smiling, I patted her leg. "I'm sure you worked hard... but it was Donovan who had to carry your... impressive arse all the way here."
"Gwen!" She exclaimed, briefly scandalised before she burst out laughing. "I'm not that bad, am I Don?" He didn't reply, just pushing his head into my hand and asking for more scratching. "Don?"
Lord Merringale cleared his throat and shifted his horse closer. "If I may say, my lady, your figure is–"
"You may not." Came her blunt reply. "Ah, such a shame..." Lorna said, shaking her head. "Come, Gwen, let's talk. It has been too long." She reached down and I took her arm, easily being hefted up and in front of her on Donovan's back.
Which of course saw me with my head pillowed against Lorna's chest, debating how to avoid awkwardness... before deciding it wasn't worth the effort. Instead, I leaned back and accepted my fate, the inevitable blush, and the warmth of Lorna holding me in place in lieu of proper straps.
"Should I be sad you no longer provide such amusing responses, or happy you've gotten over your hang-ups, I wonder?" She mused as we passed the head of the column.
I giggled lightly, thinking of why I wasn't quite so much of a blushing maiden anymore. "Both? If it helps, I still think you're absurdly pretty."
Donovan slowed and she reached up to pat my head. "And you remain a wonderfully adorable friend I enjoy teasing. How are things with Vivi?"
My blush intensified and I shifted in the saddle. "Well, good... yeah. Good."
"Good, huh."
"Very good." Actually talking about and describing what we did? Nuh-uh, no way, not happening. Keepers, I could barely believe I actually convinced her to let me do what I did after the worgen.
Once upon a time I had been thoroughly corrupted, and an entire second period of youth, crushes, and puberty to rebuild my 'innocence' and embarrassment or not, I still remembered a lot of things that would be considered outlandish.
And terribly inappropriate in polite conversation.
"Was the rebellion this bad in what you saw?" She asked out of the blue. "Did family fight against family like this in what you saw?"
"Ah..." I fumbled for an answer, trying to reconcile the jumbled mess she'd made of my thoughts by derailing them, and the conversation, so suddenly. "I don–"
"Lord George Candren sided with the king. Lord Candren's brother, he and his family seized Aderic's Repose and from there disrupted supplies. Effectively allowing the loyalists to cross the Northgate River freely." Her arm tightened around me. "He turned against his brother and all but gave the Headlands to the king..."
That explained why things were going so badly as to desire an evacuation. "I couldn't say, the Northgate Rebellion was... a footnote." Such a pivotal moment in Gilneas' history, but like so much of Gilneas, it scarcely warranted more than a mention.
Until you were living it.
"What I know of the Rebellion..." I blew strands of hair out of my eyes. "It is going better than it did. After all, we're winning. Mostly."
My reply was less certain than I liked. We were winning here, pushing Godfrey back, all but securing the Northern Headlands, readying to push enough to threaten the capital. Losing the Headlands and Candren, unless they were ignored, was all but inevitable.
For it to happen quickly due to the betrayal of family was horrendous, and yet, also expected. Side with his brother, leal and loyal to familial ties, or side with the king and claim the greater family title as a reward?
"Winning is better than losing. For us, for Gilneas as a whole." I continued more quietly. "Better than leaving the country to bleed out slowly, foolishly, as Genn damns us all. I don't regret my part in making the rebellion happen, in pushing Darius onto the course of opposing Genn as I saw him do." Running my hands through Donovan's soft feathers helped with my thoughts, a distraction, a comfort. Not that accepting the cost of what I'd done could ever be comfortable. "But I do regret not trying alternatives first."
I regretted not fighting harder against Calia coming to Gilneas. I knew Darius didn't want her here, we'd all known she wouldn't get what she desired from Genn, but I let it happen.
I regretted not reaching out to Genn, or even just Queen Mia, after the Harvest Miracle. Or after I had the attention that archmages showed me thrust front and centre in Gilnean politics. Or when I was allowed onto his war council meetings...
I regretted letting my biases, my own knowledge, get in the way of helping my country as best I could.
Yet what was done was done, I'd chosen this path. And though I held part of the blame, others held as much as me; what I made of this, what I tried to do to mitigate the consequences, mattered now. Not self-flagellation.
"Oh." Lorna whispered softly, her grip on me loosening.
Donovan's loping gait slowed to a crawl, then a complete stop. The column had fallen far behind us and only the sounds of the forest broke the quiet.
"I cannot say that is the answer I was expecting." She said after a minute. "And, on second thought, let's not dwell on such topics. You say it has been very good... so does that mean the rumours I've been hearing are true?"
"Huh?" Was she trying for tonal whiplash?!
"The ones of you and Vivi getting involved with another witch, as well as making use of magic in your–"
"The tent is soundproofed!" I declared loudly. "They know nothing!"
Not even Heather! We made sure she was busy that day, and as much as it could be fun I knew– why was I even bloody thinking about this?!
"Shall I ask Vivi instead?" Lorna mused, her arm wrapping tightly around me again. Right under my breasts and all but copping a feel. "I'm sure I could entice an answer out of her with this little thing I have with me..."
Feeling deeply concerned by her escalation my cheeks burned furiously. "Lorna!" I whined, returning to form as she won and started to laugh.
"I will enjoy my friendship with you as I always have, Gwen." Lorna said smugly, spurring Donovan to turn around. "Now, seriously, let's go get Vivi. I'll be gone by morning and need to add to the rumours about your tent."
"Why?!" My question received no answer save laughter as Donovan started bounding across the ground back to the column.
Comments
Quinn
Not intentionally, no.
Rubeno
Is Fralatina reference to Lalatina from Konosuba? Gag is almost identical
