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TRAS Chapter 113: Bea, Like a Bzz
🕑 Added 2025-05-27 13:17:22 +0000 UTCAiln’s niece was standing in front of him. He’d only found out she existed two days ago—and by all rights she should be two days’ ride away.
“...Béatrice?” Ailn uttered in disbelief.
His niece tilted her head in confusion. “My name’s Bea… Like a bzz.”
“Help me out, Bea,” Ailn said, reaching gently to make sure she was fine with him picking her up. Her legs—and stuffed animals—dangled as he talked with her face-to-face. “Where’s your mommy?”
“...At my house,” Bea rasped out, her lip momentarily trembling at the mention of her mother.
“How did you get here?” Ailn asked.
“I rode with you and all the knights…” Bea replied.
Ailn felt a horrible pit of dread in his stomach. Had they really accidentally kidnapped a four-year-old girl? How had all the knights missed her?
“Alright, Bea, can you tell me why you ran away from your mom?” Ailn asked.
“I didn’t…” Bea’s eyes grew teary at the accusation of being a runaway. She clutched her stuffed animals tightly. “I… just… want to help mama.”
This clued Ailn into roughly what happened. He’d seen her eavesdropping on his conversation with Ciel. And given what Ciel had told him, Bea was likely the type of kid who picked up more from her environment than she let on.
“Do you know who I am?” Ailn asked gently.
“Papa’s… papa’s brother…” Bea answered in a raspy voice, as if she were being lectured.
“Well, Bea, you being here might just put Uncle Ailn in a lot of trouble…” Ailn sighed. “We’re gonna send someone to get your mom to come pick you… up…?”
He trailed off. Bea looked like she was about to cry.
She got caught doing something she shouldn’t, so that wasn’t too strange. But the look on her face suggested that she’d suddenly been gripped by fear. Her eyes glazed over—yet darted around frantically as if she’d glimpsed something terrifying, and didn’t want it to scurry out of sight.
Every so often, they’d snap back into focus, like she was suddenly seeing Ailn again.
“Bea? Are you alright, Bea?” Ailn asked. He spoke her name a little louder, hoping it would break her out of her trance. “Bea.”
Bea’s face scrunched up. “No…” Her voice was small—then loud, all at once, as she burst into wails.
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The Great Hall of the ark-Chelon estate served a very different purpose than Varant’s, and its setup reflected this.
In Calum, the Great Hall was essentially a public forum. At its center stood a roundtable, encircled by hundreds of seats which rose in tiers. The pertinent speakers or negotiators sat at the roundtable, while their supporters filled the surrounding auditorium.
The night before negotiations were to begin, Kylian decided to survey the hall himself. There was likely no advantage to doing so, and yet he felt he couldn’t sit still.
The entire space was wood—a warm contrast to the stone and metal that defined so much of Calum. The city took great pains for the comfort and ease of its residents and guests, yet it never quite let you forget its industrial might.
This Great Hall was a testament to a subtler kind of power. Even its acoustics suggested it. The sounds of his footfalls as he descended to its center roundtable were rich, clear and resonant—lingering without the harsh reverberations of stone or metal. The grandeur of the space spoke for itself, letting history stand as its witness.
That said, a curious object was mounted to the roundtable, which stood out against all the wood. It was a turtle, about a foot across, with head and limbs of what looked like mythril, and an adamantine shell. Kylian would have thought it a mere ornament, if not for the knob on its back.
Truth be told, Kylian could hardly guess its function by merely looking at it. The marvels of Calum were beyond him—from the artifacts which let them choose the warmth or coolness of their water, to its grand buildings.
It wasn’t merely that Ailn was out of his depth.
Varant itself was. Concerned almost wholly with its internal affairs and the defense of the wall, it had lost touch with the outside world.
The only exception, perhaps, was Sigurd. That made it all the more surprising he hadn’t forced himself into the fore of this negotiation. Even setting aside his stringent personality—and the fact that they had all been blindsided by the direct involvement of the imperial family—he’d entrusted Ailn with an important and difficult task.
“His Grace Sigurd has changed somehow…” Kylian said to himself.
He was tempted to attribute it solely to Sigurd’s defeat at Ailn’s hands. Yet Kylian couldn’t help but feel this had been set in motion long before.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind him. “His temperament has eased with time, hasn’t it?”
Kylian glanced over his shoulder to see Ashton ark-Chelon, the heir apparent of the ark-Chelon duchy. Just as Ailn had said, he had a smile that was unnervingly smooth.
His eyes weren’t cold, but whatever warmth they had didn’t feel quite genuine either.
“Your Grace ark-Chelon,” Kylian addressed him. He gave a shallow bow, crossing his arm across his chest—a restrained show of deference which showed respect without fealty.
“The new duke is an interesting man, Sir Kylian,” Ashton said, dismissing Kylian’s bow with a wave of his hand. “As I understand it, you often function as his second-in-command.”
“I have done my utmost to aid him in his endeavors,” Kylian said politely.
Ashton continued down the steps slowly, then let his hand rest on the artifact which Kylian had been examining.
“If you were curious, Sir Kylian, this turtle here happens to be an echo stone,” Ashton remarked smoothly. “Here for the purpose of letting us convey and receive correspondence. There are times when a relevant party, of vital importance, simply cannot be present.”
“...An echo stone?” Kylian repeated. “I would hardly have guessed. His Highness, Duke eum-Creid had shown me one prior in the evening, yet it was fashioned to be held in one hand.”
“Disputes in this Great Hall often devolve into clashing voices, all seeking to be heard,” Ashton shrugged. “As you can imagine, when messages take quite a while to relay and receive, it can be quite vexing when petty squabbles render them inaudible. The larger artifact, with its intricate orichalcum internals, ensures that those seated at this table can be heard with utmost clarity.”
He rapped on the turtle twice with his knuckles. “In essence, it provides a clearer echo.”
“Could they not simply exercise discipline and speak in turn?” Kylian muttered.
At that, Ashton frowned. Perhaps he was also galled by the needless expense and sophistication.
Soon enough, his smile returned.
“When a courier is dispatched, it is an accepted inevitability that circumstances will shift by the time the message is heard,” Ashton continued, pointedly ignoring Kylian’s question. “Yet, with only a few minutes’ delay, conversation devolves into a maddening exchange of echoes.”
He shrugged helplessly. “How often I see a discussion wrenched back in time, by a remark an hour delayed. It’s akin to a stalled gear, straining to finally turn forward.”
Kylian’s brow furrowed. He’d been warned of Ashton’s penchant for speaking in parables and veiled meanings—as well as his fondness for unnerving others.
“There are times where it seems to me better to be days apart yet near in heart,” Ashton continued, “rather than a step out of harmony, with the cacophony growing louder.”
Ashton met Kylian’s gaze. “All that said, I hope you’ll come to eventually forgive Sigurd, Sir Kylian,” Ashton said.
The prickle of unease that had been stirring through Kylian’s chest sharpened acutely. “...It is not a knight’s place to forgive their liege,” he replied, his words faltering.
Forgive Sigurd—for what? There was only one thing Kylian could think of—a matter known across the empire, yet which had left each member of the Azure Knights to reconcile with it in their own way.
He was not alone in harboring some resentment toward Sigurd. That was true. And he was fully aware that his doubts had led him to unduly suspect Sigurd in the case of Ailn’s attempted murder.
Still, if Ashton’s cryptic, provocative remarks alluded to the slaughter of the Blancs, then the man was watching Varant far closer than anyone realized.
“All the same, I hope you’ll forgive him,” Ashton said. He gave Kylian a cheery wave as ascended the steps out of the Great Hall.
There had been the hint of mirth there—in Ashton’s eyes, his warm smile. And it sent a chill down Kylian’s spine.
_____________________
There was a bawling child in Ailn’s arms.
“...Oh man,” Ailn stifled a groan. “Come on, you’re alright, you’re alright…”
He held her against his shoulder, patting her back and gently swaying his arms as he walked. But Bea only seemed to cry harder as he did so.
“Y-you’re crushing Aristurtle…!” Bea wailed into his trench coat.
“Oops,” Ailn gave Bea’s stuffed animals some room to breathe, which seemed to calm her down some. His steps slowed down some as he made sense of what she’d just said. “Hold on. Aristurtle?”
“Aristurtle’s… a turtle,” Bea sniffled.
Ailn blinked a few times. “Can you tell me the other names of your stuffed animals, Bea?”
“There’s… Bent Ham the pig…” Bea mumbled, in-between hiccups. Asking her about her stuffed animals seemed to be grounding her.
“Bent Ham… Bent Ham…” Ailn tried to find some deeper meaning in the name but got nothing. “Can you tell me why you named him Bent Ham?”
“‘Cause sometimes Bent Ham is crooked…” Bea explained.
“And the dog?” Ailn asked.
“Cant,” Bea replied.
“Did you say his name’s… ‘Kant?’” Ailn kept walking in the direction of the barracks.
“No, it’s Cant, ‘cause he always tells me what I can’t do…” Bea said, looking at Ailn as if he were the weird one.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Ailn mumbled. “Bea, do you have any… interesting memories? Like maybe from before you were a baby?”
“...Uhuh,” Bea replied. “Sometimes I remember things… from before I was with mama.”
Slowly, Ailn’s steps came to a complete halt. This probably wasn’t a coincidence.
“Let’s uh… get some snacks,” Ailn said, starting to head towards his room.
Uncertain of how openly Bea might talk about being a reincarnator, he decided to bring her and her friends to his suite for the moment. If she really was a reincarnator, she was so emotional right now she might accidentally reveal her jeweled eyes.
After his encounter with Ashton, Ailn didn’t want to take any chances.
Was she like Ceric, maybe? Her stuffed animals were some form of manifestation of a supernatural power?
“And your stuffed animals? Can you tell me about them?”
“They’re my friends,” Bea said. “They… teach me how to live good.
Or maybe it was more like Safi and Cora? Somehow the souls of long-dead philosophers had… gotten stuck in her dolls. It sounded a little too ridiculous when Ailn put it into words.
“Do you mind if I try talking to them, Bea? Your friends?” Ailn asked.
“They don’t usually talk to other people…” Bea said, holding out her stuffed animals hesitantly. “But… they said it’s okay.”
Cradling the child against his shoulder, Ailn opened up the door to his room, setting her down on the sofa.
Every time he’d returned to his room, a bottle of wine and a silver platter of snacks had been left for him—sat atop a chestnut-colored marble pedestal with brownish red veins. It wasn’t exactly a minibar, but with all the dried meats, cheeses, nuts and fruits it was the closest thing you could get in this world.
Kids liked food. And Bea was old enough to appreciate the fancy presentation.
“Cheese…” Bea eyed the platter, looking like a little mouse.
Ailn grabbed the platter and set it on the low table in front of the sofa, while Bea began to eat with her hands. Meanwhile, her stuffed friends were sat next to her on the sofa.
“Alright, Cant? Aristurtle? Bent Ham? I’m Ailn,” he said, looking each stuffed animal in the eye. “I’d like to get to know you guys.”
But they said nothing back.
“Bent Ham keeps asking for sausage…” Bea said politely, between bites of cheese. “Don’t let him…”
If that’s what Bent Ham wanted, Ailn hadn’t heard about it. But Bea continued to explain patiently.
“He thinks… therefore… he’s ham.” Then she kept nibbling her cheese, as if that would suffice.
Whatever the case, Ailn couldn’t talk to the stuffed animals. It didn’t completely rule out that they were real in some sense—but given that he’d been able to hear naiads, sylphs, and even a rusalka without issue, he doubted it.
“Bea, lemme ask you something,” Ailn said. “Have you ever told anyone about your memories?”
“No,” Bea shook her head. “Not even mama.” Her eyes started to scrunch with loneliness. “‘Cause… mama’s more important than the place before.”
“Do your eyes ever sparkle, Bea?” Ailn asked.
Suddenly, Bea’s cheese-eating stopped. And while her eyes didn’t sparkle for Ailn, they started to brim with tears. “Uhuh…”
Had he hit a nerve? Ailn rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want to make a kid cry if he could avoid it… But he couldn’t shake the feeling that her tears earlier were more than a tantrum.
“Bea, when you got upset earlier…” Ailn spoke softly and slowly. “Was there something you saw with your special eyes? That made you afraid?”
The moment he asked, her eyes began to slowly shimmer like sapphires. “Papa’s gonna be gone…” she whimpered. “I… messed up. I did it…”
Her face continued to crumple, until she took in a big breath and started crying again.
“Papa’s… gonna be dead…!” Bea wailed.
Comments
Lemance
Protect Bea at all costs. Great chapter! I really loved the conversation between Ashton and Kylian.
