Arom's Stand was quieter the past few days. You wouldn't think it should be. The Coven was defeated, the horrible Mother Waycrest and her cult of Witches driven back into the pits of Thros - their unholy scion banished from this world by silver and ash. But there was little joy or festivities in that victory. Only mourning and loss. Lucille had handed out their medals, appointed her new Inquisitors, and elevated her foremost to Marshal.
But not all would stay.
"Inquisitor Wyrther.. Alaina. Take a seat. You said you wanted to leave?"
Alaina's eyes had sunken so far into her skull, and atimes looked out towards nothing. Her voice held little emotion.
"I would like to see my family. They escaped to Boralus after Corlain fell."
The Marshal shook her head. "I'm afraid we cannot do that. As an Inquisitor, you have responsibilities - to the Order, to Drustvar. We may have cut the head off the snake but there are many places still overrun. We've men stationed at Gol Osigr right now. You should join them."
"I should join them, yes." Alaina replied.
She'd not beg to her superior. She'd not plead.
The Marshal looked deeply at her, and saw the scars of war that had been left on one so young. "Tides, Alaina. You look awful."
Alaina nodded. "Aye. I do."
Joan took some papers from her desk, and for ten minutes or maybe a decade, scribbled onto it.
"Do you believe you are in a fit enough state to fight?"
Alaina would not lie to her superior either.
Joan scribbled some more.
"Very well. Sign here please. This will grant you leave. Just know this is an exception. Not everyone will have this chance."
Alaina could not help but feel she was being pitied. "Thank you, Marshal."
She replied, and felt a glimmer of hope, a smile as she left. Things might go back to how they were.
The Wyrther household had been staying, it seems, in a rented out townhouse for the last two years. They were far better off than the other refugees from Corlain or Brennadam. Smaller than their Estate, it still had a room for each of them, and ample space around the dinner table.
Alaina walked in to the sounds of an argument.
"It's like you don't even care about our household. I barely even know you anymore. Do you have any idea how this makes me feel?"
Auntie's voice could be heard from outside.
Celica's voice only sobbed.
Alaina pressed herself up against the wall and quietly hoped the shouting would stop.
Footsteps thudded up the wall on the other side.
"Oh, you're leaving? Fine! I'll just run this entire household by myself, seeing as I'm the only one who cares!"
Alaina breathed coldly, and knocked on the door. It slammed open, but Auntie held her tongue when she saw who it was.
"Alaina. You are finally back. Look how old you've become!"
"Aye, I have, Auntie." She looked around an empty room, the atmosphere a searing venom. It was just them. "Where is everyone?" She dared to ask.
Auntie was quick to snap. "Your Father spends more of his time gallivanting around the city than with us. Lance left on an apprenticeship some time ago. Bianca is gone, ran away shortly after you went. Celica thinks she matters more than the rest of us.
Does that sum it up?"
Alaina soon learned not to ask any questions.
-
Father came back, a few days later.
Alaina was the first to greet him.
"Father! You're back- and I'm here!" She said, tears in her eyes, forgetting her Knightly manner and remembering who he was to her.
He came through the door and she continued to speak to him. "I have learned much from Drustvar, many battles and struggles and... and..." though she soon found it like speaking to a brick wall.
"I did all that so I could come back. Show you I can be a Knight. I was your best student, you said."
He came out of a trance and nodded. Tides, how his moustache had greyed, how his hair had frayed, his skin mottled. He looked at Alaina, up and down. And she eagerly awaited his response. He didn't give the one she wanted.
"I must go now. I have something I must do." He got up from the creaky chair and took his old war armour, beginning to place it on.
"What? Where must you go? You only just got back!" She cried, as he strapped his breastplate on over rustling chainmail.
"I must do this, Alaina. We all have our Paths."
"Then let me come with!"
"T'is mine alone to bear."
She was driven to tears, the thought after two years of hell she would fight her way back to him only for him to leave so soon again. Old burdens bubbled.
"Why must you do this? Why can you never just talk to me?"
He looked at her with a withering stare. "You are a Knight, and an adult. You will not speak to me that way. You do not understand."
Alaina drew in, and found herself staring at an old pair of boots in the corner of the room. All other sights and sounds muffled and turned black.
He strapped Briarbane to his waist, and headed towards the door. The handle clicked. But... he stopped. And walked back to her.
He took his blade and offered it to Alaina.
"I hand my sword to you. Keep it safe for me, until I return."
Alaina could barely hold it close enough to her, as she slumped in the corner of the room, hearing the galloping of hooves as he left over her little tears. They were all she could muster.
Days passed.
"So, you're all grown up now then hm? That's good. I think it best for us if we all spend some time apart, so I am buying you and Celica separate apartments. I might go stay in Bridgeport, myself. I hear the game can be quite good this time of year."
Auntie swirled a tea in her hand as she look at a different Alaina. A better one. No tears. No anger.
"Yes, Auntie. That sounds nice." She replied.
Father would come home some day. She had to prove to him she was strong enough to come with him. No matter what he said, that must be the reason why. She couldn't stand the idea of anything else. He needed a Knight, an Inquisitor, an adult. Not his emotional daughter who cries at the first thought of anything. Heroes don't cry, either. And he should see that she is a Hero worth knowing.