Ulric didn't hear her arrive. She claimed that she'd knocked. Nevertheless, she looked, appreciative? Curious? Something anyway, at what she saw, even if she said nothing. Ulric was too caught up reviewing the lessons he'd learned from this self-study to worry about it, and went to the washroom to dry his face. His simple braid was fraying, so he undid it and rewove the thing to keep it out of his way. He was retying the band when he heard the woman's lilting inquiry.
"What are you doing in here, Glade Chief, why is the furniture against the wall? And why do you appear to have poured the water pitcher over your head?" the smooth melodic voice washed over him.
Stepping back out into the room, Ulric looked at her a moment before answering. It seemed, vaguely, childlike to him to say it out loud. However, given that his Shadow would fault him for something regardless, he might as well tell her and make it this. It might be stupid, but it had, somewhat, worked for him.
"I was shadowboxing. You know, training through movement drills but with an imagined opponent, to work out the kinks in my form and get used to doing it under attack. Sort of." Ulric told her unable to hide his embarrassment completely.
It sounded way, way dumber when he said it out loud, he decided.
"Oh. This is…this is surprisingly wise coming from you." Geyrt said, eyebrows raised, making her glittering almond eyes even more captivating.
She paused, frowning slightly. Ulric watched her chew her lip a moment, as if in silent debate.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to say it that way." She apologized, which shocked the hell out of him.
"I meant to say that it is good for a warrior to practice with their foes in mind. Using their movements, their attacks, the memory of their timings and habits, these are excellent tools to refine your own abilities and prepare for future battles. Young warriors do not normally realize the importance of imagined combats on their training. I can help you in this, if you want. I will offer you attacks in different angles and approaches, so that you may sharpen your responses. If you want. Your training regimen is your own, of course." She said, with more uncertainty than Ulric was used to.
Normally Geyrt spoke in blacks and whites, the woman had all the deft touch of a thrown rock. He must have really thrown her off kilter. Seems to him like that might have been a very good thing or a very bad thing, depending on how he looked at it. He figured he might as well choose the best-case scenario, and take a dub on the day. Gods knew he needed one, after this morning's fiasco.
"Your help would always be appreciated Geyrt, of course. And it's fine, I know I'm not the most ah…how would you say, natural, fighter around." Ulric said, laughing lightly.
Now the woman really was confused, her head tilted and her ears twitched sharply a couple of times. Dead giveaway with her, that was.
"That is not true Ulric. At all. You are one of the best raw talents for a battle mage that I have ever seen. You bested me, your superior in nearly every way, even if I was throwing away near all my advantage from anger. You have killed experienced fighters and monsters that have claimed many of our kin, with almost nothing in the way of training. A bare few weeks, at best. From the way my brother described it, and from what I have seen of you, your intuition for controlling the pace and spacing of a fight is far in excess of what would be expected for one of your age and experience." She said disbelieving.
"No, you are clearly young. Definitely inexperienced. And mostly untrained, that is true. But you have instincts for battle that are second to none. With time and continued effort, you will be a threat to even the most seasoned Iriel'en warriors, and we count ourselves among the best Aesvartheim has to offer." Geyrt reasoned.
Ulric pinched himself lightly. Then hard. Nope he was actually still awake. Ulric was completely without words.
Geyrt Iriel had offered him a glowing praise, completely without sarcasm. This was the second time in a single day. There wasn't, like, a sniper somewhere feeding her lines or else they'd pull the trigger right? He closed his mouth and examined the floor, peeling his eyes away from the Shrine maidenesque resemblance of his Shadow. Was he blushing? Maybe. Was she? He quickly glanced over at her slightly frowning face. Her ears twitched but he couldn't tell if they were reddening, not without getting caught looking and returned to his contemplation of the wood grain in the floor. He was definitely not used to hearing her say such unquestionably positive things, normally even her compliments were backhanded. Now he felt guilty for suspecting her of plotting to make him miserable with her Uncle.
He ran his hand over his braid giving it a light pull, to brace himself before returning his gaze to his multi-layer white robed Shadow. She also appeared conflicted if that distant look and the way she cupped her jaw fingers tapping lips were any indication. His [Shadow Panther] senses were tingling, something was going to go wrong. Soon. Abort!
"Thanks, Geyrt. I'm sure that vote of confidence is hard to come by, I appreciate it." He said awkwardly.
There! Now she was blushing. What in the hell was going on here?
He needed to change the subject, this was getting weird. She might combust if she says anything else nice.
"So, what do you think your Father wants to discuss this evening? We got a couple of hours before then but I'd like to go in somewhat prepared. You know how he is, and all." Ulric asked.
Fortunately, his Shadow was as uncomfortable as he was and allowed herself to be led.
She tossed her hair lightly before answering, clearly glad to move on to a different topic.
"He will want to discuss the results of the information obtained from our scouting party and to chart a course with you for the future. Winter is in full force, snows will soon fall deep and the temperatures will drop such that movements from Prespang will be unlikely, especially now that we are on to their breach in defenses. The deep winter storms will kill any caught out of cover in them, even weather wards are hard pressed when the frozen winds drive ice like sand and erode the barriers. I doubt that we will be returning to your glade or scouting any more until the thaw." Geyrt predicted, her tone serious.
Ulric was slightly surprised. The Varda seasons were longer than Earth seasons, five months instead of three, which meant that the years were longer as well. But he had been thinking that they had experienced the worst of it already. If Winter grew even more bitter here, in what the maps he'd seen showed as the middle latitudes, what in the hells were the northern climes like?
That made the region far north of the inland sea they called Vatyn, labeled the White Wastes make a great deal more sense. He'd figured that, with people being tougher here, by a large margin, than on Earth they would be able to cultivate a much wider range of habitable zones. Apparently Varda's climate was also more severe. It would take a huge amount of work to store food for a season approximating a Northern Canadian Winter that was fifty percent longer. Yeah, Ulric thought to himself, that would make a place with a shorter growing season completely untenable. Food would have to be imported and stored for way, way too long to be reasonable for most civilizations at the level of what he had seen so far. Even magic only went so far.
Some of Prespang's aggressive tendency was made a little more clear to him as well. The Orlethrem encompassed the middle and southern reaches of the continent, the more verdant and arable parts of it. Prespang comprised the middle and northern reaches, which were far and away going to experience harsher climates. Wider swings in daylight hours, shorter growing seasons, less biomass generally, unless they had the kind of untouched Taiga that was, in the old times, typical of the northern climates on his world. Even then, those coniferous forests really were green deserts, monocultures that were fabled for their inhospitality towards animal life.
The beasts that roamed those kinds of places were always larger and more ferocious than their Southern cousins, too. The long extinct Polar bear was a great example of that geographic polymorphism, Bergmann's rule he vaguely recalled it being named in his old biology texts. Then these Northern folk would naturally tend to want to encroach on the richer lands of their Southern neighbors. They would have good reason to desire the safer, softer, more hospitable climates. A healthy dose of institutionalized racism, massive cultural difference, and a couple thousand years of bad blood would just be icing on the cake driving these peoples into conflict.
Bald'rt had his plate full then. He was, for all intents and purposes, locked in with what information he had on hand, and that information was not good tidings. His enemies had, somehow, established movements outside his vision, for purposes that were, so far as Ulric was aware, unknown, if undoubtedly nefarious. It was a situation that would make a general's teeth itch. Knowledge was, without question, power and they didn't have enough of it. Even if, as the Elven King had said earlier, the loopholes in the defenses of Orlethrem and Iriel were closed, that didn't necessarily reveal the depth of the penetration. Ulric had a hard time believing that traitors were a possibility in Iriel, he was with Nahl'ir on that one. Geyrt was also correct, however, it didn't take a willing participant to be a mole. They might have revealed sensitive information in confidence, which was then intercepted.
Ulric wouldn't have traded all the privileges and powers of the Crown for Bald'rt's spot right now, he could barely keep his own shit together, let alone a nation of tribal city states. This here, was the kind of times when it was not good to be king.
"Hmm…I see." Ulric said, brain trying to sort the information he had. It was like a giant jigsaw puzzle, this thing between Prespang and Orlethrem. He had the edges, and he knew what the overall picture was, those were pretty well spelled out, but he was missing too many pieces to be able to complete it.
"What role should I play in all this? I am grateful to your kin for housing me in Winter, for providing the opportunity to learn from your peoples Geyrt. Hell, I like a bunch of them already, and I don't make a habit of liking folk, not without knowing them for a year or two." Ulric asked her earnestly.
"This…" he said indicating the room and the comforts generally "This is all fantastic. Beyond my wildest expectations. But I don't know how I'm supposed to fit in, or what I'm supposed to do. I want to help, but I don't know how. Or when. Or even if I can. What do you think?" he rambled.
Geyrt's demeanor solidified, in this, at least, she was on firm ground.
"You are not Aes'r, you are not beholden to Orlethrem. You bargained fairly for your stay in Irielhos, for services rendered and knowledge that is of great use to my people. If you speak more of metal working with Uncle Uldin, as I suspect you will, he will go on to elevate Iriel'en craftsmanship to even greater heights and already he is closing the gap with the Svartalfin. As your Shadow, I must inform you that you have rendered a great boon to my people in showing them possibilities with magical prowess and in the arcana of substances, and been compensated not at all equally for revealing these advantages, closely guarded secrets that they would be in many nations. So, in this regard, you truly do not owe my kin anything. You are a guest, and a friend of the Royal family. My Father may ask you for your assistance come the spring but, know this Ulric, it is truly an ask; you do not have obligation to make war against your own kin." Geyrt said emphatically.
Ulric shook his head at that last point, with more regret than he'd been aware of in his voice as he corrected her.
"They are not my kin Geyrt. Not at all. I might look like them and the Akashic record might have categorize me with them, but even that spooky All-Knowledge put an asterisk next to it. For better or worse, I'm one of a kind."
That was something that rarely bothered him. He'd known since his Reforging that he was a freak. An anomaly. The Watcher, for reasons that only it would truly know, had introduced a glitch into the matrix. All that stuff about soul origin and whatnot might be true, but none of that was necessarily the real motivation for his second chance. The only thing those superstitious clowns of the Cross Cult got right was that an entity so far beyond a human existence would operate beyond the ability of a human to comprehend, for reasons of its own. His own existence would then be a mystery to the peoples of this world. They'd be suspicious, possibly fearful, maybe even hostile if they knew the truth, which was but a single [Scan] away. He didn't think much on it, but, even he had to admit that it was a lonely thing to be the only one of your kind.
Geyrt held him fully in her attention now, contemplating. He knew not what strange Elf thoughts passed but, whatever they were, they didn't indicate on her face. For now, she was serene calm. A still lake, unsurpassed for its grandeur. He clamped down on the impulse to stare at her. Eventually she settled whatever debate she had held with herself.
"Then you will be your own people, someday. As [Lord of the Ancient Glade] you will, inevitably, should you survive, give rise to children. If, as has been the case with other Reforged, your line breeds true, you will almost certainly spawn a new clan of men. It is how the Frostmir, the ice giants and their descendants, are said to have emerged. A single overwhelming entity conquered that land and their blood ran strongly. So strongly that their interbred offspring always favored the original ancestor. It is my duty Ulric, to see the Heartwood of your dynasty grow strong, with deep roots. Perhaps it will not always be the case that the humans living on Aesvartheim will be enemies of Orlethrem. But, for now, they will consider you an enemy if you declare yourself a friend towards Iriel." Cautioned his Shadow.
Ulric hadn't considered his offspring, that possibility being so remote as to be a non-issue. It wasn't though, was it? Not anymore. Unasked for, he'd been granted power of sort. Territory. A status as a ruling force over some domain unclaimed. It wasn't beyond the pale to think that, someday, he might settle down to the extent that some lass would want to start a family with him, and he her.
He'd chew on that later, he decided. His original goals hadn't changed and, whatever Bald'rt had to say this night would only probably reinforce the budding decision he was coming to. Best not to overthink things, Varda had a way of fucking with him any time he laid plans. He'd just have to play it by ear.
Speaking of which, he decided to pull the trigger on something that had been kicking around the old noodle for a hot minute now. No time like the present.
“You know, Geyrt, I think I’m mostly accepting that I’ll not be able to get rid of you without one of us dying.” He winced, that didn’t sound like what he wanted it to, and she quirked her mouth at him, hands on her hips so that the wide sleeves of her robe hung loose, making her appear to fill a space far wider than her figure would allow.
Like a bear with its fur up, she was more intimidating than usual. He had to hurry up before he lost his nerve, he’d save washing the taste of his own feet out of his mouth later.
“And, as a matter of fact, I’m sort of glad you’re around, especially back there in the canopy; You probably pulled my—I mean, saved my life a couple of times, not even including the [Polar Weasel] you shot before it could tear into my leg. I’d have to admit that, when I think of the perfect Elven Huntress, you’re pretty much what comes to mind. So, I’d consider it a favor and an admission of reciprocal trust if you’d give me permission to scan you. I know it’s a personal thing, and you don’t have to, totally voluntary here, but I’d sort of like to know who you are a little.” Ulric sidled into it awkwardly, before eventually making his request.
“Is that all?” She said with obvious suspicion.
“Well, yeah. Brighteyes made it sound like [Scanning] people unasked was a good way to make enemies.” Ulric confirmed.
“I was fearing your twisty spiderweb of a thought basket had something worse in mind. What Heir Lumyt’seit said is so, in most cases. It is different between us; as your Shadow, you are always entitled to examine my status, the better to put me to use on your behalf. It is good you did not ask this in company, they would think you slow. Asking to see your Shadow is like asking a mirror if it will show you your face.” She explained, somewhat relieved.
At least she stopped with her superman pose. She did that in a way that said her heels were dug into the bedrock and moving was straight out. Whenever she got like that Ulric had not yet successfully convinced her to reverse her position. Ulric didn’t even mind the light sarcasm, that was to be expected. Par for the course.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable is all. This Shadow stuff is awkward enough for my taste and I wouldn’t have it said that I treated you like less than a person. Even if everybody else seems to think that way.” Ulric clarified.
It was important that he left her whatever freewill and dignity he was able, Ulric knew she chafed at being tied down. Bald’rt hadn’t sentenced her to death for oath breaking, violation of Guestright, and dereliction of duty, but he’d come pretty close and Ulric knew for fact that she would take her frustrations out on him whenever she felt overly coerced. Or even just mean, Brighteyes’ sister had a streak of ill temper about a furlong wide. Anything he did that irritated her, which turned out to be many things that he did, provoked her into finding some way to get payback. Most of the time he didn’t know what he’d done to set her off. Sometimes, he suspected, she just did it for the hell of it, like waiting until he was settled into a nice cozy think before dropping a non sequitur on him. That shit infuriated him and she knew it.
This then was, maybe, turning out better than he’d anticipated. He had expected to have to cajole and maybe resort to some light extortion. More likely, she’d set her feet and put her head down and he’d, you know, just accept no for no and leave it at that. Still, she seemed completely fine so he wasn’t stepping on any toes. That he knew of. Yet. You know what? Best to be sure. Like picking blackberries was dealing with Geyrt.
“Alright, just so we’re both on the same page, you’re completely fine with me dropping a [Scan] on you right?” He double checked.
Now she scowled at him, “I have said so have I not? You do not need to ask.” She snapped.
Ulric was on the point of biting back at her but he held his tongue. It wasn’t worth it, just let go. Ye gods, she was an artist at pissing people off. He was nearly impressed.
Unable to repress a frown, he concentrated on her person, taking in the details of her face, her clothing, the feel of her, as his mana reached out. He didn’t practice this particular magic, he’d only done it once before with Brighteyes over a month ago. It took longer than he recalled.
[Scan]
He grinned immediately.
Ulric didn't hear her arrive. She claimed that she'd knocked. Nevertheless, she looked, appreciative? Curious? Something anyway, at what she saw, even if she said nothing. Ulric was too caught up reviewing the lessons he'd learned from this self-study to worry about it, and went to the washroom to dry his face. His simple braid was fraying, so he undid it and rewove the thing to keep it out of his way. He was retying the band when he heard the woman's lilting inquiry.
"What are you doing in here, Glade Chief, why is the furniture against the wall? And why do you appear to have poured the water pitcher over your head?" the smooth melodic voice washed over him.
Stepping back out into the room, Ulric looked at her a moment before answering. It seemed, vaguely, childlike to him to say it out loud. However, given that his Shadow would fault him for something regardless, he might as well tell her and make it this. It might be stupid, but it had, somewhat, worked for him.
"I was shadowboxing. You know, training through movement drills but with an imagined opponent, to work out the kinks in my form and get used to doing it under attack. Sort of." Ulric told her unable to hide his embarrassment completely.
It sounded way, way dumber when he said it out loud, he decided.
"Oh. This is…this is surprisingly wise coming from you." Geyrt said, eyebrows raised, making her glittering almond eyes even more captivating.
She paused, frowning slightly. Ulric watched her chew her lip a moment, as if in silent debate.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to say it that way." She apologized, which shocked the hell out of him.
"I meant to say that it is good for a warrior to practice with their foes in mind. Using their movements, their attacks, the memory of their timings and habits, these are excellent tools to refine your own abilities and prepare for future battles. Young warriors do not normally realize the importance of imagined combats on their training. I can help you in this, if you want. I will offer you attacks in different angles and approaches, so that you may sharpen your responses. If you want. Your training regimen is your own, of course." She said, with more uncertainty than Ulric was used to.
Normally Geyrt spoke in blacks and whites, the woman had all the deft touch of a thrown rock. He must have really thrown her off kilter. Seems to him like that might have been a very good thing or a very bad thing, depending on how he looked at it. He figured he might as well choose the best-case scenario, and take a dub on the day. Gods knew he needed one, after this morning's fiasco.
"Your help would always be appreciated Geyrt, of course. And it's fine, I know I'm not the most ah…how would you say, natural, fighter around." Ulric said, laughing lightly.
Now the woman really was confused, her head tilted and her ears twitched sharply a couple of times. Dead giveaway with her, that was.
"That is not true Ulric. At all. You are one of the best raw talents for a battle mage that I have ever seen. You bested me, your superior in nearly every way, even if I was throwing away near all my advantage from anger. You have killed experienced fighters and monsters that have claimed many of our kin, with almost nothing in the way of training. A bare few weeks, at best. From the way my brother described it, and from what I have seen of you, your intuition for controlling the pace and spacing of a fight is far in excess of what would be expected for one of your age and experience." She said disbelieving.
"No, you are clearly young. Definitely inexperienced. And mostly untrained, that is true. But you have instincts for battle that are second to none. With time and continued effort, you will be a threat to even the most seasoned Iriel'en warriors, and we count ourselves among the best Aesvartheim has to offer." Geyrt reasoned.
Ulric pinched himself lightly. Then hard. Nope he was actually still awake. Ulric was completely without words.
Geyrt Iriel had offered him a glowing praise, completely without sarcasm. This was the second time in a single day. There wasn't, like, a sniper somewhere feeding her lines or else they'd pull the trigger right? He closed his mouth and examined the floor, peeling his eyes away from the Shrine maidenesque resemblance of his Shadow. Was he blushing? Maybe. Was she? He quickly glanced over at her slightly frowning face. Her ears twitched but he couldn't tell if they were reddening, not without getting caught looking and returned to his contemplation of the wood grain in the floor. He was definitely not used to hearing her say such unquestionably positive things, normally even her compliments were backhanded. Now he felt guilty for suspecting her of plotting to make him miserable with her Uncle.
He ran his hand over his braid giving it a light pull, to brace himself before returning his gaze to his multi-layer white robed Shadow. She also appeared conflicted if that distant look and the way she cupped her jaw fingers tapping lips were any indication. His [Shadow Panther] senses were tingling, something was going to go wrong. Soon. Abort!
"Thanks, Geyrt. I'm sure that vote of confidence is hard to come by, I appreciate it." He said awkwardly.
There! Now she was blushing. What in the hell was going on here?
He needed to change the subject, this was getting weird. She might combust if she says anything else nice.
"So, what do you think your Father wants to discuss this evening? We got a couple of hours before then but I'd like to go in somewhat prepared. You know how he is, and all." Ulric asked.
Fortunately, his Shadow was as uncomfortable as he was and allowed herself to be led.
She tossed her hair lightly before answering, clearly glad to move on to a different topic.
"He will want to discuss the results of the information obtained from our scouting party and to chart a course with you for the future. Winter is in full force, snows will soon fall deep and the temperatures will drop such that movements from Prespang will be unlikely, especially now that we are on to their breach in defenses. The deep winter storms will kill any caught out of cover in them, even weather wards are hard pressed when the frozen winds drive ice like sand and erode the barriers. I doubt that we will be returning to your glade or scouting any more until the thaw." Geyrt predicted, her tone serious.
Ulric was slightly surprised. The Varda seasons were longer than Earth seasons, five months instead of three, which meant that the years were longer as well. But he had been thinking that they had experienced the worst of it already. If Winter grew even more bitter here, in what the maps he'd seen showed as the middle latitudes, what in the hells were the northern climes like?
That made the region far north of the inland sea they called Vatyn, labeled the White Wastes make a great deal more sense. He'd figured that, with people being tougher here, by a large margin, than on Earth they would be able to cultivate a much wider range of habitable zones. Apparently Varda's climate was also more severe. It would take a huge amount of work to store food for a season approximating a Northern Canadian Winter that was fifty percent longer. Yeah, Ulric thought to himself, that would make a place with a shorter growing season completely untenable. Food would have to be imported and stored for way, way too long to be reasonable for most civilizations at the level of what he had seen so far. Even magic only went so far.
Some of Prespang's aggressive tendency was made a little more clear to him as well. The Orlethrem encompassed the middle and southern reaches of the continent, the more verdant and arable parts of it. Prespang comprised the middle and northern reaches, which were far and away going to experience harsher climates. Wider swings in daylight hours, shorter growing seasons, less biomass generally, unless they had the kind of untouched Taiga that was, in the old times, typical of the northern climates on his world. Even then, those coniferous forests really were green deserts, monocultures that were fabled for their inhospitality towards animal life.
The beasts that roamed those kinds of places were always larger and more ferocious than their Southern cousins, too. The long extinct Polar bear was a great example of that geographic polymorphism, Bergmann's rule he vaguely recalled it being named in his old biology texts. Then these Northern folk would naturally tend to want to encroach on the richer lands of their Southern neighbors. They would have good reason to desire the safer, softer, more hospitable climates. A healthy dose of institutionalized racism, massive cultural difference, and a couple thousand years of bad blood would just be icing on the cake driving these peoples into conflict.
Bald'rt had his plate full then. He was, for all intents and purposes, locked in with what information he had on hand, and that information was not good tidings. His enemies had, somehow, established movements outside his vision, for purposes that were, so far as Ulric was aware, unknown, if undoubtedly nefarious. It was a situation that would make a general's teeth itch. Knowledge was, without question, power and they didn't have enough of it. Even if, as the Elven King had said earlier, the loopholes in the defenses of Orlethrem and Iriel were closed, that didn't necessarily reveal the depth of the penetration. Ulric had a hard time believing that traitors were a possibility in Iriel, he was with Nahl'ir on that one. Geyrt was also correct, however, it didn't take a willing participant to be a mole. They might have revealed sensitive information in confidence, which was then intercepted.
Ulric wouldn't have traded all the privileges and powers of the Crown for Bald'rt's spot right now, he could barely keep his own shit together, let alone a nation of tribal city states. This here, was the kind of times when it was not good to be king.
"Hmm…I see." Ulric said, brain trying to sort the information he had. It was like a giant jigsaw puzzle, this thing between Prespang and Orlethrem. He had the edges, and he knew what the overall picture was, those were pretty well spelled out, but he was missing too many pieces to be able to complete it.
"What role should I play in all this? I am grateful to your kin for housing me in Winter, for providing the opportunity to learn from your peoples Geyrt. Hell, I like a bunch of them already, and I don't make a habit of liking folk, not without knowing them for a year or two." Ulric asked her earnestly.
"This…" he said indicating the room and the comforts generally "This is all fantastic. Beyond my wildest expectations. But I don't know how I'm supposed to fit in, or what I'm supposed to do. I want to help, but I don't know how. Or when. Or even if I can. What do you think?" he rambled.
Geyrt's demeanor solidified, in this, at least, she was on firm ground.
"You are not Aes'r, you are not beholden to Orlethrem. You bargained fairly for your stay in Irielhos, for services rendered and knowledge that is of great use to my people. If you speak more of metal working with Uncle Uldin, as I suspect you will, he will go on to elevate Iriel'en craftsmanship to even greater heights and already he is closing the gap with the Svartalfin. As your Shadow, I must inform you that you have rendered a great boon to my people in showing them possibilities with magical prowess and in the arcana of substances, and been compensated not at all equally for revealing these advantages, closely guarded secrets that they would be in many nations. So, in this regard, you truly do not owe my kin anything. You are a guest, and a friend of the Royal family. My Father may ask you for your assistance come the spring but, know this Ulric, it is truly an ask; you do not have obligation to make war against your own kin." Geyrt said emphatically.
Ulric shook his head at that last point, with more regret than he'd been aware of in his voice as he corrected her.
"They are not my kin Geyrt. Not at all. I might look like them and the Akashic record might have categorize me with them, but even that spooky All-Knowledge put an asterisk next to it. For better or worse, I'm one of a kind."
That was something that rarely bothered him. He'd known since his Reforging that he was a freak. An anomaly. The Watcher, for reasons that only it would truly know, had introduced a glitch into the matrix. All that stuff about soul origin and whatnot might be true, but none of that was necessarily the real motivation for his second chance. The only thing those superstitious clowns of the Cross Cult got right was that an entity so far beyond a human existence would operate beyond the ability of a human to comprehend, for reasons of its own. His own existence would then be a mystery to the peoples of this world. They'd be suspicious, possibly fearful, maybe even hostile if they knew the truth, which was but a single [Scan] away. He didn't think much on it, but, even he had to admit that it was a lonely thing to be the only one of your kind.
Geyrt held him fully in her attention now, contemplating. He knew not what strange Elf thoughts passed but, whatever they were, they didn't indicate on her face. For now, she was serene calm. A still lake, unsurpassed for its grandeur. He clamped down on the impulse to stare at her. Eventually she settled whatever debate she had held with herself.
"Then you will be your own people, someday. As [Lord of the Ancient Glade] you will, inevitably, should you survive, give rise to children. If, as has been the case with other Reforged, your line breeds true, you will almost certainly spawn a new clan of men. It is how the Frostmir, the ice giants and their descendants, are said to have emerged. A single overwhelming entity conquered that land and their blood ran strongly. So strongly that their interbred offspring always favored the original ancestor. It is my duty Ulric, to see the Heartwood of your dynasty grow strong, with deep roots. Perhaps it will not always be the case that the humans living on Aesvartheim will be enemies of Orlethrem. But, for now, they will consider you an enemy if you declare yourself a friend towards Iriel." Cautioned his Shadow.
Ulric hadn't considered his offspring, that possibility being so remote as to be a non-issue. It wasn't though, was it? Not anymore. Unasked for, he'd been granted power of sort. Territory. A status as a ruling force over some domain unclaimed. It wasn't beyond the pale to think that, someday, he might settle down to the extent that some lass would want to start a family with him, and he her.
He'd chew on that later, he decided. His original goals hadn't changed and, whatever Bald'rt had to say this night would only probably reinforce the budding decision he was coming to. Best not to overthink things, Varda had a way of fucking with him any time he laid plans. He'd just have to play it by ear.
Speaking of which, he decided to pull the trigger on something that had been kicking around the old noodle for a hot minute now. No time like the present.
“You know, Geyrt, I think I’m mostly accepting that I’ll not be able to get rid of you without one of us dying.” He winced, that didn’t sound like what he wanted it to, and she quirked her mouth at him, hands on her hips so that the wide sleeves of her robe hung loose, making her appear to fill a space far wider than her figure would allow.
Like a bear with its fur up, she was more intimidating than usual. He had to hurry up before he lost his nerve, he’d save washing the taste of his own feet out of his mouth later.
“And, as a matter of fact, I’m sort of glad you’re around, especially back there in the canopy; You probably pulled my—I mean, saved my life a couple of times, not even including the [Polar Weasel] you shot before it could tear into my leg. I’d have to admit that, when I think of the perfect Elven Huntress, you’re pretty much what comes to mind. So, I’d consider it a favor and an admission of reciprocal trust if you’d give me permission to scan you. I know it’s a personal thing, and you don’t have to, totally voluntary here, but I’d sort of like to know who you are a little.” Ulric sidled into it awkwardly, before eventually making his request.
“Is that all?” She said with obvious suspicion.
“Well, yeah. Brighteyes made it sound like [Scanning] people unasked was a good way to make enemies.” Ulric confirmed.
“I was fearing your twisty spiderweb of a thought basket had something worse in mind. What Heir Lumyt’seit said is so, in most cases. It is different between us; as your Shadow, you are always entitled to examine my status, the better to put me to use on your behalf. It is good you did not ask this in company, they would think you slow. Asking to see your Shadow is like asking a mirror if it will show you your face.” She explained, somewhat relieved.
At least she stopped with her superman pose. She did that in a way that said her heels were dug into the bedrock and moving was straight out. Whenever she got like that Ulric had not yet successfully convinced her to reverse her position. Ulric didn’t even mind the light sarcasm, that was to be expected. Par for the course.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable is all. This Shadow stuff is awkward enough for my taste and I wouldn’t have it said that I treated you like less than a person. Even if everybody else seems to think that way.” Ulric clarified.
It was important that he left her whatever freewill and dignity he was able, Ulric knew she chafed at being tied down. Bald’rt hadn’t sentenced her to death for oath breaking, violation of Guestright, and dereliction of duty, but he’d come pretty close and Ulric knew for fact that she would take her frustrations out on him whenever she felt overly coerced. Or even just mean, Brighteyes’ sister had a streak of ill temper about a furlong wide. Anything he did that irritated her, which turned out to be many things that he did, provoked her into finding some way to get payback. Most of the time he didn’t know what he’d done to set her off. Sometimes, he suspected, she just did it for the hell of it, like waiting until he was settled into a nice cozy think before dropping a non sequitur on him. That shit infuriated him and she knew it.
This then was, maybe, turning out better than he’d anticipated. He had expected to have to cajole and maybe resort to some light extortion. More likely, she’d set her feet and put her head down and he’d, you know, just accept no for no and leave it at that. Still, she seemed completely fine so he wasn’t stepping on any toes. That he knew of. Yet. You know what? Best to be sure. Like picking blackberries was dealing with Geyrt.
“Alright, just so we’re both on the same page, you’re completely fine with me dropping a [Scan] on you right?” He double checked.
Now she scowled at him, “I have said so have I not? You do not need to ask.” She snapped.
Ulric was on the point of biting back at her but he held his tongue. It wasn’t worth it, just let go. Ye gods, she was an artist at pissing people off. He was nearly impressed.
Unable to repress a frown, he concentrated on her person, taking in the details of her face, her clothing, the feel of her, as his mana reached out. He didn’t practice this particular magic, he’d only done it once before with Brighteyes over a month ago. It took longer than he recalled.
[Scan]
He grinned immediately.
