Miniarc-et the Parents-03
It doesn’t take much to swallow my disgust with the marquis. Who knows what who knows? All I have are assumptions. Even if they’re true, it’s no surprise. People selfishly pursuing their desires, regardless of the cost to others, is normal. Expected. Saints, I’m no different, am I? My little bouts of rcy and leaky, bleeding heart are ant to make feel better. Easy to throw away the mont it becos inconvenient.
And my concerns about the morality of Harvest’s leaders is just as easy to throw away. The worry, the offense. But not the anger. That simply joins the rest that has made a new ho in my gut but it’s easy to ignore as I open the next letter, this one from my future father in-law. It’s less a letter and more a note, the single line making chuckle.
Send word if we need to march.
No questions. No judgnts. Just a statent of support, despite the fact that the fort has to be hurting in the wake of the ruined campaign. They’re a bunch of crazy bastards but saints bless them, they can be admirable sotis. I also appreciate that he doesn’t say a word about the March. Maybe it’s because he’s wary of angering the woman who just destroyed a city but I’m choosing to believe that it’s a sign of trust. And why wouldn’t he trust ? The situation may have gone in an unexpected direction but it’s well in hand.
“Do you like snow?” I ask the little beastie that’s made herself comfortable in my lap.
She shakes her head. “Cold. Dangerous.”
Danger—ah. Suppose the cold would be dangerous without a roof to keep it off you and a fire to warm you up. “Yeah, it’s miserable. But sothing tells you’d like it.”
“Trip?”
“Maybe. Or we could go sowhere with lots of trees and fields and good food. Would you like that better?” I ask as I grab the letter bearing the seal of the Rosefield family.
“Yeah!”
Well, let’s see if we’re welco. Hm. A very polite tone, that bodes well. Oh hoh? Forget welco, the good duke of the kingdom’s pantries is practically insisting I co for a visit. More interestingly, he is subtly making a similar offer as the marquis. Again, I could be reading too much into the “many avenues of entertainnt for a lady of your ans” but it sounds very much like he also believes I’m in possession of incredible wealth.
Maybe he’s simply lusting after my elf’s impressive wealth. Or maybe he also knows about this Authority. Maybe all the leaders of the kingdom know about it, in so way. Could be what has allowed Quest to remain largely independent through the generations.
If that’s the case, things are bound to get lively. I imagine all kinds are going to flood the ruins of the city. Spies, opportunists, official agents. Saints, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few pirates make their way over from Graywatch. Pillaging wealth is a major defining trait of the people.
Last but not least is a note from the Hall. Not an invitation to resu my studies, sadly, but a request to arrange a eting at my earliest convenience. Thank the saints for that. It’d make sick to have to fight the Harvest Hero. I still admire him. He’s one of the few examples of a true hero I know, that anyone knows. And unlike Quest, I have connections to the Hall. People and places that I care about. Maybe I can visit the Sanctuary, say hi to the Templetees. I wonder what they’d have to say about all of this.
So. In the wake of the unspeakable, the great figures of humanity are…seeking to parley. So part of is disappointed. It’s not that I want trouble but it is, hm, uninspiring that no one is taking a hard stance against . I don’t want to be denounced but saints know it would make feel better about them. About all of this and this whole kingdom.
Though it’s also a comfort. Good to know that people are exactly what I think they are. It makes feel better about wiping out thousands. It would be much harder to swallow if I had to contend with thoughts of wiping out hundreds and hundreds of future saints or at the very least morally upstanding individuals. Those are few and far between, especially amongst the powerful.
“Co on,” I mumble as I scoop Anna up with one arm while standing, the little beastie giggling. The lounging flocketts perk up as they hear our footfalls, hurrying after us with excited squeaks. “Ti to eat, I think. Sothing light. Don’t want you falling asleep during your lessons.”
I laugh as she groans. “Lady Lou?”
“Hm?”
“Learn summoning?”
I pause, looking down at her to find serious eyes looking up at . “Do you think that’s what I want you to do?”
Her little face scrunches up before she shakes her head.
“Then why?”
She hesitates. Oh no. Is she…afraid?
I quickly adjust my grip, hugging her against my chest. I almost drop the letters in my opposite hand but instead settle for rubbing her back with my thumb. “Hey. I’m not upset or anything.” Rather, I’m flattered and more than a bit excited. “I just want to know what’s bouncing around in that cute head of yours.” I gently butt her head with my own, making her giggle again. Heh, figured the little beastie would like that. “Whatever it is, it’ll be alright.”
She still looks hesitant, but her little shoulders straighten as she raises her head. “We are Lady Lou’s family.”
Sothing in my throat tightens, making it a bit difficult to respond. “That’s right.”
“To family summons.”
I bark out a laugh. “Hah! Right again. Really, I feel a bit stupid for asking. You might be smarter than .”
“Lady Lou is the best!” she imdiately argues. It warms my heart that I’m not sure if it’s how she really feels or if it’s the result of a succubus’ conditioning. “Will you teach ?”
“Of course I will. You’ll do the To na proud! In a few years.” I cut off her whine. “None of that. You want to learn the To way so you follow the To rules. That ans a whole lot of reading and a few months of practicing, at the very least.” Negotiating with elentals is dangerous. There’s no way to separate that danger from the art, and the more I learn the more danger I find, but there are ways to mitigate it. Like not getting children make deals with creatures that would swallow them whole given the slightest chance, flesh and spirit.
It’s a family rule that soone must be at sixteen before they can attempt their first summoning, under supervision. Twelve successful summonings or eighteen years old before they can attempt a summoning on their own. “Family rules. If we do this, we do this right.” I won’t have her being a knockoff like Mr. Self-Made and whatever pitiful souls he’s conned into thinking he’s anything other than a lustful idiot.
“…okay.”
“Trust , it’s not as bad as it sounds. Most records are entertaining, better than classic stories. The places they describe, the creatures. Beyond imagination.” Who could think of a world where there are no continents, only a great sea of liquid fire that swells and explodes upwards in cycles, creating paths to cloud islands? Or creatures with scales as reflective as glass that communicate by refracting light to one another? It’s the kind of fantastical stuff that sparks the imagination and makes a heart beat with excitent. Makes soone look around their own world, looking for so hidden wonder. But they aren’t just stories. Summoners can touch that fantasy, drag bits and pieces of it into our own mundane world.
That’s what makes it the best thing in the world. Of course I’d share that with her.
“But that’s for later. If you want to teach you, you have to do well with the rest of your lessons. Alright?”
“Okay!”
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