by Kal Spriggs
“Thanks,” Jasmine said with a roll of her eyes. “Well, I've not crafted anything as fanciful as Jasper's shield, but I think you'll appreciate my work nonetheless.” She laid out several outfits on the table and Aerion actually let out a sigh of relief. They were not, as he'd expected, something fanciful and decorative. The first was clearly padded armor to be worn under his scale mail to absorb the impacts. He could see patterns woven into the heavy cotton and before he could ask, Jasmine spoke, “Heat control and waterproofing. You'll not be miserable in the cold or heat. The armor should keep your temperature moderated to a comfortable level... and I've designed it to be adjustable since you're still growing. Even better, it will provide minor protection from normal attacks where your armor doesn't. Really, I've designed all of this to be at least somewhat adjustable, though if you continue to grow that will be for naught on some of this.”
Aerion's gaze went to the next outfit. The brown and green pattern she used seemed to shift under his gaze in a fashion that almost gave him a headache. It was a full set of clothing, with leather padding and reinforcement in various spots. “For skulking about in the woods. It's similar to what I make for some of our scouts who patrol the borders of the Eastwood,” Jasmine said. “In addition to the heat control, it also has weaves designed to fool the eye and reinforcement to protect your vitals.”
The third outfit was a simple set of trousers and a plain gray tunic, though cut well enough that it looked worthy of a well-off merchant. “Just some simple clothing so you don't stand out,” Jasmine sniffed, “Really not much to speak of, except for some small details.” She ran her hand along a seam on the trousers and pulled out a long, thin knife. On the tunic she opened it to show leather reinforcement around the torso and neck. “There's a number of hidden pockets and such to allow you to sneak all manner of items with you, from coins to weapons, and it should protect you from knives and other light blades.” Aerion nodded. He could think of a number of uses for such an outfit, though he felt as if he stood out enough with his height and missing eye, the clothing might help him blend in to a crowd in some regards.
Jasper held open a leather knapsack and Jasmine folded each of the outfits and tucked them inside. “Last, but not least, is this,” Jasmine said and laid out an outfit in forest green. Aerion restrained a sigh as he saw it. This was what he had feared. The forest green tunic was of some soft, water-like fabric that shimmered slightly. It had a bright white undershirt that he feared he would stain if he so much as looked at it too long, and tight, black leggings that, while they might be stylish, he felt his face flush at the parts of his anatomy that they would display. It looked rather like something his friend Walker might wear, far too glamorous for someone like Aerion. I'll look like some preening noble, he thought darkly.
Yet he didn't dare refuse it. He would have to pack it somewhere at the bottom of his bag, out of the way, he figured.
“This is something I spent quite a bit of time on, young man,” Jasmine said sternly, clearly reading his expression. “So don't you dare put it at the bottom of your bag and forget about it. Wearing this will show the value that the People of the Eastwood have placed upon you. You have earned the friendship of our King and the respect of all of us. Wearing this shows that you are not someone to be overlooked, but someone to be treasured.”
Aerion flushed a bit more and looked away. Dammit, he thought, I'm proud of what I've done, but I'm nobody special and if some noble takes offense at my behavior or dress it could get me in a lot of trouble. Still, better not to speak of it, he knew that the Wold already didn't hold much with the outside world. If he insinuated that someone out there wouldn't like him, these two might just take it in their heads to do something about it.
“And, since formal gatherings tend to run towards bloodshed and betrayal,” Jasmine said cheerfully, “I've made certain that your garb – and you – survive such occasions.” She pulled out a dagger and slammed it down on the tunic. It bounced back with enough force that it spun out of her hand and landed several feet away. “I've put my own weaves of protection into it, with the Shkami spider silk already being tough enough to turn a knife, this should stop a sword thrust as well as armor.”
Aerions eye went wide at that. Despite its appearance, he could well see the use in that, especially if wearing it might well convince some noblemen to want to stab him in the first place.
“In the belt-pouch is a crystal wine-cup, which will change color on contact with most poisons and a matching spoon and fork. If they turn black, I'd advise you not to drink or eat,” Jasmine said with a smile. Aerion nodded, though part of him was instantly tempted to make a gift of it to Lady Katarina, once he returned. Though, he wasn't certain she wouldn't have something like that already.
“The rest are some additional outfits for everyday wear under your armor or just in general,” Jasmine said. “Part of me was tempted to craft you a surcoat as well, but you've no coat of arms.”
Aerion snorted at the very idea, “I'm no knight or noble. Thank you though, for the excellent work. I will wear it, all of it, with pride.”
“You had better!” Jasmine said. “Now, Jasper is dying to tell you all the details about his boondoggle, so I'll pack the rest of this away for you while he takes you out back to show it off. Just remember, no matter how horrified you are, just nod and smile.” She leaned close and whispered loudly, “He'll just be too proud to notice anything else anyway.”
***
Aerion limped slightly as he came back to his room that evening. He'd spent almost the entire afternoon with Jasper as the Wold craftsman showed him the workings of his 'boondoggle.' Aerion was impressed, and not just by the shield. He had assumed that Jasmine's mention of deflecting a cast boulder was a jest of some kind... until he saw the arcane device that Jasper used for just that purpose. The armorcrafter had a range of equipment, from magical to mundane and everything in between, some of it to test his creations and others to help craft it. He had, quite offhandedly, introduced Aerion to Samophan, a young dragon who slept curled around his forge, apparently so deeply asleep that none of their activities caused it to so much as stir.
Aerion still wasn't certain that he could keep all of the functions and triggers of his new shield straight, but at least Jasper had been kind enough to write them down for him to study and practice.
He had other things to study as well, for earlier King Simonel had personally delivered the item that Aerion had requested as his favor. It was a map, crafted by the Wold scouts who traveled the edges of the Eastwood. While it wasn't as detailed with elevation and the exact lay of the land as with Starborn style maps, it did show landmarks and the locations of various hidden trails and waypoints extending far into the mountains, presumably with enough detail to get him back to more familiar lands.
The Wold King had also given him instructions on how to approach the border and be granted entry if and when he should want to return. That was useful, considering that the Wold normally killed any trespassers to their lands without warning. Aerion thought that, once the fight against Lord Hector was finished, he might like to return and he'd rather not be killed in the process.
As he opened the door to the guest house, he paused to find that Princess Tirianis sat on one of the chairs, “Good evening, Aerion,” Tirianis said.
“Good evening, Tirianis,” Aerion said politely. She seemed more informal even than most of the other Wold, but it still felt odd to know that she was a princess and not call her such, or at least 'my lady.'
She patted the chair next to her as Aerion closed the door and stepped inside. “I wondered if we might talk about something before you leave.” She hesitated, “As you may have heard, I'm something of a healer... and it pains me to see someone in pain and not take action to help.”
Aerion sat gingerly, “Princess, that is, Tirianis, if this is about my eye...”
She shook her head. “No... not that. I did help to heal your physical wounds, yes, but my skills are primaril
y those of mental and emotional healing.” She waited a moment before she continued and Aerion felt something uncomfortable slither through his stomach. What did she fear to speak of? “I can sense that you've suffered trauma, much of it as much to your mind and spirit as to your body. You mentioned the murder of your village, you've told us about the loss of your friend Josef, and I've seen the scars from the torture you've experienced... but these are things that you seem to have coped with, things you have begun to handle on your own. You have anger, but it is a healthy anger, a righteous anger about evils done to you.”
Aerion shrugged uncomfortably. He knew he wasn't 'right' as far as those things went, but he functioned and he had turned his energy, and yes, not little amount of his anger, towards fixing the things he could. “So what else is there?”
“What else indeed?” Tirianis said with a slight smile. “My brother has a knack, it seems, for finding complicated people to invite to be his guest. Any normal person might have enough issues with what you've been through to require quite a lot of my attention, but you seem to shoulder it quite well.” Her smile faded into a more serious expression. “What I have noticed, however, is that you have another pain. One which you have not mentioned.”
Aerion looked away, “I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.”
She rested one hand gently on his shoulder. He felt both nervous at her touch and oddly comforted. He hadn't been close to nearly anyone besides old Taggart and his mother, not until after Lord Hectors mercenaries had destroyed his village. Since then he had grown close to Bulmor and Gerlin, and then later Josef, Quinn, Walker, and even Nakkiki. But still the touch of a person, especially that of a beautiful woman, was not something he was used to.
“You've spoken quite a bit for your respect and loyalty to Lady Katarina,” Tirianis said. “And you've mentioned, inadvertently, comments of friendship. But I notice absences in what you speak about... and how you say it.”
Aerion felt his face flush, “I'm not sure what you're saying...”
“Yes you are,” Tirianis said. “I would guess that Katarina is about your age, perhaps a few cycles older?” At Aerions nod she smiled slightly, “Beautiful, probably with a strong sense of duty and a caring person.” Aerion found himself nodding to her words despite himself. “It's only natural that you would be drawn to her... and I assume, from your story, that you've spent much time with her and perhaps she found first friendship with someone her age... and then something more.”
Aerion's flush seemed to burn well into his hair. “We're just... friends.”
“Of course,” Tirianis said. She squeezed his shoulder gently. “And her duty, in the way of nobility, probably requires her to think in terms of alliances and stability for marriage, not for love or affection.” She shrugged, “It is something that Amelia has spoken of, in any case, though I find it a silly premise. What good is a marriage if it is not built upon love and respect?”
Aerion shrugged, “I can't say much about that.” Am I so transparent, he wondered, that she could see so much unsaid? He would have to hide his emotions deeper.
“What I find is that attraction without release often becomes obsession or worse,” Tirianis said softly. “Denial of self, repression, causes turmoil, to the point that you lose sight of what is truly important. You have put much weight into your affection for Katarina, have you not?”
Aerion wanted to deny the statement but he found himself nodding.
“Have you told her?”
Aerion looked over and met Tirianis's gaze. Her green eyes seemed to hold both sympathy and respect, both for his feelings and for the pain he felt. She cared, really cared, and it was a bit of a shock to him. Emotion was something to be handled on ones own or sometimes shared with family. Tirianis wasn't much more than a stranger, the sister to a man he had met no more than a few months ago. She came from a different culture, had lived centuries, and yet his tangled knot of feelings mattered to her. “We... talked,” Aerion said. He sighed a bit, “She said we couldn't give in to such emotions, that too much was at stake. She asked me to stay close, to be her friend, but nothing more.”
“So she did feel similarly,” Tirianis nodded. She shook her head, “Oh, you poor children.”
Aerion felt his back go up at that, “We might not match your experience, but it doesn't mean what I felt, what we felt, isn't real.”
“That is true,” Tirianis said softly. She brushed some of her raven-black hair out of her eyes, “What I meant was not to denigrate your feelings, merely the lack of experience that gives you the ability to either put them in perspective or to deal with them.” She shook her head, “As I said, such feelings can either fester or grow out of control if they are buried away. That you both talked is both good and bad.”
“Oh?” Aerion asked.
“It is healthy to address such things, though I suspect that while her intentions were to resolve the issue she probably only made it worse for herself in what she said and she put you in no small turmoil as well,” Tirianis shook her head. “That's probably all the worse for the fact that you're both virgins, so you've got unrequited physical attraction on top of repressed emotions.”
“I – that is, I'm not...” Aerion squawked. She gave him a level look and he closed his mouth on further denials, even though he felt like his skin was hot enough to catch fire. This had become far more awkward than he had dreaded.
“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” Tirianis shrugged, “though nothing to have pride in, either, I suppose. It does, however, make it harder to put love and affection into perspective.” She raised a hand as he tried to interrupt, “Now, I'm not discounting your feelings for her, trust me, Aerion. I am, however suggesting that in your lack of experience, you may not really be able to realize the depth, or lack of, those feelings.”
“Like what?” Aerion asked
She leaned close and he felt her warm breath on his cheek as she whispered into his ear, “Like the difference between lust and attraction, between caring and affection.” Her voice was sensuous and Aerion felt his body respond even as he leaned back in surprise. The Wold Princess wore a slight smile, her white teeth bright against her reddish-gold skin.
Aerion started to his feet, suddenly even more self-conscious about the tight-fitting leather pants that Jasmine had made him. “I'm not sure what you are suggesting...”
She came to her feet as well, “Do you not find me attractive?” Tirianis asked, her voice at once both teasing and gentle. As she spoke, she eased the blue dress off of her shoulders and Aerion's gaze dropped to her body before he pulled his gaze back up to her face. Her slight smile suggested she found his restraint amusing.
“Well,” Aerion said, “yes, but... well, you already know how I feel about Lady Katarina.”
She raised an eyebrow, “I do. And as I've said... I don't think it is entirely healthy to let you run around with all that pent up emotion on top of your hormones. I'm not suggesting falling in love, Aerion, I'm offering a bit of pleasure, something to share between friends.” She stepped closer and Aerion stepped back. She followed him, step for step until his back struck the wall. Even as he kept his gaze on her face he could still see the slim curves of her body in his mind.
Aerion closed his eye and tried to force the image out with one of Katarina, but as her lips met his, Aerion's mental image of Katarina shattered. Suddenly, all that mattered was that Tirianis was in his arms and that she was warm and soft. As her hands found the snaps that held his pants closed, he forgot about guilt and worry and pain... he had something far more pressing on his mind.
***
King Simonel Greeneye
The Eastwood
14th of Agmat, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
Simonel waited as Ceratul said his farewells to Aerion. The Warmaster had seemed quite taken with the young warrior and Simonel suddenly wondered how much of that was some similarity with his own past. Though Ceratul's past took a dark turn when he was young, Simonel remembered. Stil
l the ancient warrior had misty eyes as he turned away, the last of Simonel's people to say farewell before he did so himself.
On that thought, Simonel stepped forward and clasped Aerion's forearm. The boy looked tired and distracted which made Simonel wonder if he had much sleep the previous night. He had hoped that the events from the Nadir Ebeli wouldn't have soured Aerion on his people, “Gantarel has offered to lead you to the edge of our territory.”
Aerion nodded and his gaze became sharp, “I appreciate that. Especially if he can put my feet on the right trail. The map will help, I'm sure, but I don't want to spend too long wondering around trying to find the right way.”
Simonel nodded, “I understand.” He looked over and saw Amelia stood nearby, ready to say her farewells. He saw no sign of his sister, however, “I thought that Tirianis might wish to say her goodbyes as well...”
Aerion shook his head, “She, uh, already said farewell.”
Simonel nodded, though he was confused at the boy's sudden nervousness. Before he could ask, Amelia stepped forward, “Aerion, I hope you don't mind, but I've written about the Starblade in the letter to my father. He's a senior officer in the Boir Navy, I think it best he bring it to the Grand Duke's attention.”
Aerion shrugged, clearly uncomfortable at the reminder. “I suppose that makes sense. Still, if it was kept hidden for so long, I am nervous about people knowing about it... and especially that I have it.”
She nodded. Simonel felt more than a minor concern about that. To the people outside the Eastwood, both those of what was now called the Five Duchies and the lands to the north and south, the Starblade would be a great prize. Armies had marched for less, he knew. Still, from what Amelia had said, her father was not only well trusted, but a man of intelligence and tact. Hopefully none of Aerion's potential enemies would learn of the blade's existence and location. Short of some of my people leaving the Eastwood to protect him, he thought, my only alternative to protecting him from that is to imprison him myself. Neither was a viable option, the one because of their exile and the other because it would be a betrayal.
