The Duke’s Reborn Daughter Sometimes Chooses Violence.

They started with the funeral.

Eight bodies arranged in a row, what little of their effects they had brought with them, laid out beside them. We hadn’t even had time to sit down. Hadn’t even greeted the villagers. Hadn’t needed to. The few locals had seen the procession and with practiced ease, they;d set up the large raised podium where the eight bodies now lay. It was a ritual of a kind.

I merely watched from within the crowd. Sere held my hand. Violet stood on my other side. Damian stood in front of me, jaw set. Estovan’s hand rested on my shoulder.

Count Vance did the rites. He talked about each man and woman who had died: their deeds, other expeditions they had been on. He talked about one man who had saved his life from some kind of Monster I did not recognize. It was a short and simple address. When he was done, another expeditioner would step forward, recount their own tales. Every man and woman spoke with the weight of religious recitation.

There were more stories then, but these ones were more humorous.

Stories of a particularly funny joke one expeditioner had said at an odd time or another. Stories of how one man narrowly escaped death, though they tried their damnedest not to. One story was about Harren. About how he had looked a Wraith in the eye and mocked it. How they’d survived, the speaker didn’t say. Each man and woman got a turn. Eventually, it was Saffer’s.

“He always said his time would come out here. Said he’d rather die in the Infernal Blaze if he had his pick.” The woman paused. “I told him he deserved the Everfrost instead. He asked me why, and I told him it would freeze his balls off.”

It wasn’t funny. Wasn’t even appropriate. For some reason, it made everyone laugh anyway. Some inside joke I wasn’t privy to, and never would be.

Finally, the last man had said his part. Two men and one woman stepped forward towards the podium, their hands glowing. Fire burst from their palms in waves, setting the bodies alight.

Sere gripped my hand tighter. I felt, more than saw, Violet stiffen next to me. I took her hand with my other one. She flinched, then gripped mine back.

You did not leave the dead out in the Wastes. Walkers were, I was told, the least of the horrors that could lead to.

The flame rose high, and the smoke higher still. It climbed until it reached the white sky, eventually thinning into nothing.

There was food, then. The villagers carted it out. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread did much to drive away the smell of burning flesh. I did not feel the hunger but I saw every expeditioner move to take their fill. The pyre had not yet stopped burning.

“My Lady,” Estovan murmured, squeezing my shoulder. “You should eat.”

“How can I?”

“Out here,” he said, leaning close. “We celebrate life. We do not mourn death. Not for long.”

He was right. I knew he was right. That didn’t make my feet move any faster. Finally, I nodded and led my friends to one of the tables the villagers had set up. There were more than enough empty seats. Estovan did not join us. I saw him moving towards a table that had Count Vance, his Lieutenants, and a few other men.

We didn’t have to wait. A scruffy-looking man approached us, carrying a tray with four plates, each carrying the same thing. Smoked meat, stew, and bread.

Damian ate first, his expression tight. Violet followed, and once she started, she tried to inhale the food rather than eat it. Our fare since leaving Aelheim had been meager compared to this. Sere hesitated, looked at me. She reached for her notepad.

“I’ll eat,” I promised. “You start.”

She reluctantly set the notepad down and began to do just that.

My eyes moved from one table to the next. The expeditioners really were making merry now -laughing and joking amongst themselves. They mixed in with the local people freely -those men and women were a hard kind, not in the same way that the expeditioners were. More worn, in a way an expeditioner might not live long enough to be.

There was dancing, then singing. Men and women shouting over each other to recite lyrics that made my face go red. Violet joined in at some point, shouting loud enough to add to the growing song. Sere was oddly enthused. It was far too late to cover her ears. Not that she seemed to mind.

The Godblade weighed heavy in my mind.

This…is Defiance.

A full sentence. I hadn’t expected that.

Perhaps it is, Vaelin.

I sighed and reached for the food. It made little sense to me. This world and its people rarely did.

The pyre burned low, now more smoke than flame.

The festivities had finally died down enough that several men and women had retired. This small village had two inns -both meant for these expeditions.

Every now and then, a burst of blue light flared from the center of the village. A small Obsidian arch, similar in shape and function to the great Farstep Circles of Aelheim. This one connected to its smaller cousins in the city, though it could only transport inanimate objects. Without it, this village -and every outpost in the Wastes- would not exist.

They would take the ashes to that arch, so the dead could find rest with their loved ones back home. From what I’d overheard, this was an honor. Many expeditioners died too far from an outpost, and had to be burned where they fell.

In the end, I had only picked at my food, but I had eaten enough.

Count Vance found my table. Violet had joined in the dancing -had tried to get me to join her- leaving an empty seat that the Count took without asking. He looked much the same as he had the last time I had seen him. Still dangerous and still sharp.

“You bypassed my authority,” he said.

“I did.”

I had been braced for this. Part of me was relieved he was saying it to my face.

“Out in the Wastes, my word is law,” he said. “You can only have one commander in a place as dangerous as this. Conflicting orders mean death, if you’re lucky.”

“I have good eyes. It would have been a shame not to use them.”

We stared at each other. Damian and Sere still sat at the table. Damian looked stricken. Sere puffed out her chest.

Count Vance slowly nodded. “Do not do it again. You had the right instincts this time, but that does not mean you will have them again. You might give a command you think is obvious and helpful, only for it to be anything but.”

As far as reproaches go, it was a light one. I had been the key to turning that battle around after all.

“You do not look convinced.” He said, his eyes never leaving mine.

“If there is a way I think I might help, I will,” I said. I paused. “If I do not see a way to convince you, then I will take your leash more firmly.”

Count Vance’s eyes hardened. “Are you going to play at being a commander now? When you’ve barely managed to play at being a Lady?”

Damian rose from his seat. I raised a hand to stall him.

“Careful, Count,” I said. “There are words we can say that we may then never take back.”

He frowned and seemed to hesitate. Then, he tipped his head. The barest fraction. “My apologies, My Lady. It has been a difficult day. I misspoke.”

“You are forgiven. Grief blinds us all.”

He moved to stand. I could see it in the shift of his weight, the way his hands pressed flat on the table.

”You said that the men had expected something to happen earlier,” I said before he could rise. ”Has our trip been… relaxed?”

He paused and settled back. Caught off guard by this change of topic, Count Vance hesitantly nodded. “Aye. That last attack was more brutal than most, but we should have had several attacks by now. From all manner of beasts. Perhaps the last attack was so effective because we had let our guard down.”

“Did you expect more men to die just in reaching here?”

“No. Perhaps four or five.” He said. “Why?”

“I wish to understand better. This….” I gestured, trying to encompass the village and the expeditioners and all of the Wastes in the same motion.

“You won’t need to understand it for long.” Count Vance said dryly. “This one trip aside, you will be back within the safety of the great walls.”

“I told Duke Greenward this expedition marked the start of a new era,” I said. “I meant it. I do not understand how yet, but I do mean to try and reclaim the Wastes.”

He snorted, shook his head. “A meaningless boast. And if it’s a promise instead, then it’s a feeble one. No Lord or Lady would give up their comfortable lives to do something as foolish as that.”

“You did.”

He had no reason to be out here in the Wilds. He might not have been a true noble in Aelheim, but he would have been better off than he was out here. That made him pause, furrow his brows and frown at me.

“And you are wrong about one thing. I do not mean to take your command from you. Nothing of the sort.”

His brows furrowed more. He looked both confused and suspicious. “What then?”

“I simply hope you take my words into consideration next time. You have been out in these Wastes for fifteen years. That is longer than I have been alive. There is value in that.” I said, idly tapping the table. “Do not dismiss what I say out of hand. That is all I ask.”

The fire had gone out by then. I saw men starting to gather the ashes amidst the dying flame. I watched them. Those men did look somber as they worked at their task, contrasted by the merriment all around them.

“I had thought you were greedy at first,” I admitted. “Now I understand you simply celebrate everything. I respect that.”

Count Vance sighed. He put his head in his hands. “My Lady, has anyone ever told you that you are quite strange?”

“All the time,” Damian supplied helpfully.

“Aye, but you would know, lad.” Count Vance set his hands down. “Very well. I will take your advice more seriously in the future, My Lady.” He paused, spared a glance for the men and women around him.

“You should rest now. We move for the mountain in three days’ time.”

“Three days?”

“Alira needs time to heal the wounded, and they’ll need time after that to get back on their feet. We’ll need every man we have. Even a dying dragon is still a dragon.” He stood. “I’ll have one of the villagers show you to your rooms.”

The man left, leaving the three of us alone.

“That went well,” Damian observed.

“I think it did, didn’t it?”

There was a tugging on my coat. I turned towards Sere.

Where sweets?

“I…am not sure.” I smiled. “I’ll ask.”

The ‘inn’, if it could be called one, was better maintained than I had expected.

We were on the second floor. Four rooms had been set aside for just us. Mine was the largest. Not that I had asked, but the man who worked as the ‘innkeeper’ had insisted rather fiercely. Estovan would stay with the camp. Just in case.

“Wake up early,” Damian told Violet. “I want to practice.”

Violet snorted, stretched out her arms. “Sure. Didn’t think you liked getting a beating, but I’ll give ya one if you’re really asking for it.”

Damian nodded seriously and moved to his room. I could guess at what weighed him. He had been instrumental so far, but one’s own worth was often hardest to see.

Sere pointed at my door and reached for her notepad.

Can I?

She looked up at me with wide eyes, cheeks puffed. It was an attack, and a rather effective one.

Before I could answer, Violet grabbed the hem of her tunic and dragged her back. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re here with me!” Violet dragged the girl with her to her own room, right next to mine.

Rather insistent, though it was good for them to spend time together. I might have joined them. On another night, I would have.

I hadn’t slept much out on the Plains.

I’d stayed awake, searching the surroundings with my Gift for hours. The strain still wore at me. And beyond the strain…there was a weight I didn’t want to bring into anyone else’s room.

I entered my chambers and locked the door. The room was small. A bed, a window, a table. Compared to my chambers back home, it was nothing but it would do. I peeled off the leather armor and stretched. It didn’t take long to lie down. Took even less to fall asleep.

WAKE!

The Godblade woke me, just as the door clicked open.