Chapter 388: ARC 6-Winter War-82

Unfortunately, my short tour of the James estate didn’t include any good places to disappear from loved ones for a few hours. My verbal explosion leaves me feeling relieved, drained, and incredibly embarrassed. It’s obvious I’m going to have to talk to them, if only because I hate the thought of finding another place to sleep tonight, but I need a place of quiet until the thought stops making me feel nauseous.

In the end, I settle for the back of the estate, plopping down in the snow with my back against the thick ice that comprises the gate circling the house. I figure it’s late and cold enough that no one will chance upon me. The night sky, full of stars slightly obscured by fluffy clouds, is also a good backdrop to my currently dramatic life.

Saints, what was I thinking? I wasn’t wrong but that could have been handled better. I keep seeing Alana’s face before I ran out. The outward shock and the subdued fear. I didn’t look at Kierra. I don’t know if I’d feel better or worse if she wore a similar expression.

My breath fogs as I sigh heavily. With time and distance, I have a better grasp of my feelings. For one, I hate this place. I haven’t seen all it has to offer but I’m confident in my summation that Victory is horrible. A few careless words and fifty people were locked into a deathmatch, the fate of hundreds more on the line. All because they were led astray by one of the leaders of the fort, the favored heir himself.

And what were the residents’ response to a bloodbath and a boggling use of magic? A slap on the back and invitations to join them for a bigger slaughter.

Victory is a morbid, dour, bloodthirsty place. It’s too cold and too gray. The people here are all mentally damaged. Worse, it’s infectious. Alana seems to be slowly losing herself the longer we’re here. Saints know what she’ll become by the time the campaign is finished. Ah, maybe that’s a bit unfair. She made no secret of how she felt about her home. I just didn’t think it’d have such a powerful sway over her.

And my wife. That damn elf. She’s made even less of a secret of her nature but never has it annoyed me as much as it did today. She has the worst timing. Or maybe that was the point. She chose the worst possible time to inflict the most stress.

It worked. Better than she might have wanted. I’m not certain how I feel about it. A part of me is angry and another is resigned, having accepted her and her role in my life. But both parts can agree on one thing. Never again. Not like that. I’m determined. Not sure what shape such a conversation will take but it’s going to happen.

The sound of a door opening interrupts my thoughts. I would have ignored if it wasn’t accompanied by the soft crunch of a foot stepping onto snow, moving in my direction. Against all expectation, someone is about to wander upon me. Or maybe this meeting isn’t so accidental. Is it…no. A quick sniff tells me it’s neither of my lovers or my elementals. Though Rolly is probably around, watching the show with immense pleasure.

I don’t bother investigating further. I’m in no mood to entertain whoever it is and will soon send them on their way. There’s plenty on my mind without holding a polite smile while someone cheers on some of the most pointless death I’ve ever witnessed, let alone had the displeasure to be a part of. To think this all started from a simple favor to a friend.

“You are strong but it is unwise to challenge the prowess of the wind.”

I startle, eyes snapping open to find the duke himself standing over me. He’s still wearing his heavy blue cloak lined with white fur but his helm is missing. With snow liberally covering his head and speckled on his beard, he looks as if he belongs more to winter than men. His cold blue eyes, so similar yet so different from Alana’s, look down on me impassively.

If this were the old me, his presence and sense of power would have prodded me to stand, head bowed and feet shuffling as I frantically wondered how to navigate this conversation without losing my head. These days, I’m confident enough in my own power not to fear for my life but I am still uncomfortable as I look up at him. “I don’t even feel the cold.”

His broad shoulders rise and fall as he lets out a deep breath. “I have known warriors that have done the same. They had the melders make it so they felt no cold but it meant they also couldn’t feel the warmth of the hearth. They felt no pain but they also couldn’t feel their wives’ touch. Soon, they felt nothing at all. It drove them all mad, without exception.”

…okay? “My melder is better than that. I can feel the cold. Just not bothered by it…your grace.”

“Do not bother with pleasantries. One of the many lessons I have learned is that there is no point in standing on ceremony with someone who can kill you.”

I stiffen.

“Calm yourself. That was not a threat nor do I feel threatened by you. It is simply best we know where we stand.”

“…you’re that confident in my abilities?”

“A null caster took off your head and your reaction was annoyance.”

I wince at the reminder of my exposed secrets. Not that surprised the duke has come seeking me out. I would want answers too. “I’m not telling you anything and my wife’s not available, not even to you. So we know where we stand.”

“Then it is good I have not come for your secrets or your wife.”

I frown as I stare up at him. “Then what are you here for?”

The duke slowly crouches so I no longer have to stare up at him. He’s putting us on equal footing. No, he’s been doing so from the beginning. This isn’t a lord talking to a visitor to his realm. But what is it? One fighter speaking to another? A father speaking to the woman brought home by his daughter?

“You are an asset to Victory and humanity. No mere knight, but a champion that comes along once in many generations. The equivalent of the first saint, not the imitations that came after. But you are not resolved. The March unnerved you.”

I don’t bother to hold back my scowl. “Yes. How terrible of me for not glorifying that nonsense.”

“You are upset because you are lost. You don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? Your son didn’t like Alana coming back with some sharp teeth and a cocky swagger so he tried to slap her down and failed spectacularly. The hunters, his chosen weapon, suffered the consequences.”

“They are not without blame.”

“Oh, no. They’re idiots. But a lot of people are idiots. That’s why there are lords and kings. You’re supposed to stop them from tearing each other apart. When the rulers are plotting their demise, then the poor bastards really don’t stand a chance, do they?”

“I suppose they do not.”

We lapse into silence. It’s strangely comfortable. While the duke has a strong presence, it isn’t demanding or overbearing. At least, for me. I have no desire to prove myself to him so I’m content to lounge against the gate.

“The leader of Victory must be three things.”

I glance over at the duke. He is still crouched but his gaze is turned to the sky. “Do you know what they are?”

“No.”

“Humor me.”

I don’t want to but the novelty of the situation is compelling. I doubt I will be having many heart-to-hearts with him in the future, even after I marry his daughter. With a shrug, I give the first answer that comes to mind. “Strong, stubborn, and stern.”

“You did not say wise. Or fair. Or just.”

“Well, I didn’t see any of that today.”

“Because those are not needed. Desired, yes, but not needed. Strength and will are paramount. That is what I have taught my son. That is why he could not retreat. But this will serve as a good lesson. That charging in recklessly has consequences.”

I don’t believe this bastard! “So all those lives were needed to teach your son a lesson?” A spanking could have accomplished the same thing in a fraction of the time for a fraction of the pain.

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“Better he lose fifty than thousands.”

That…that wasn’t a bad point. It annoys me that I think that.

“Zach has led forces on the campaigns but in name only, a smaller contingent a part of a larger force under the command of a more experienced commander. Before he takes responsibility for the lives of Victory’s knights, truly, he needs restraint. To learn to look twice before charging head. To march against death, not because he can’t fathom losing, but because he knows the fear of death but has the will to march against it anyways.”

“And I suppose Alana and I should be thankful we could assist you in raising your heir.”

“It was a lesson for Alana as well.”

I perk up, far more engaged in the conversation. “What?”

The duke’s gaze turns back to me. “I gave her the opportunity. And she exploited it, crushing her opponent without mercy. She proved herself a James…and a worthy candidate to lead Victory. Even without that, her connection to you and your wife would be enough. Your clan will cut a swath through the north. The knights will worship her for that. If she has the wherewithal to lead as well? They will follow her to the Abyss itself and they will be unstoppable.”

I scowl, hating the way he talks of her. “What if she doesn’t want this place? What if she chooses something different?”

“She is a James. She will always choose Victory.”

“How convenient. She’s your daughter now that she has some value.”

His eyes are cold as ice, his expression unmoved. “If she did not prove herself strong, it would be a mercy to send her away. I gave her the choice. She came back. And so, she will live with the consequences of her actions.”

I click my tongue. There’s no point in talking with this fanatic.

“It was the same for me, my father, and my father’s father. So it will be until the north is conquered. It can be no other way.”

Something about the conviction in his voice draws my attention. Or…ah. That’s not conviction. It’s resignation. Maybe even anger. Mixed in with his stout belief and pride, of course. He speaks as if the James family’s obligation to Victory is a chain. A comfortable chain but chain nonetheless.

“There are old ways that have been forgotten. In the time of the ancestors, vows and oaths meant more than words. As a summoner, you understand bonds can be formed of magic and intent. The James family will conquer the north or die trying. It is as certain as the mountains we march past every winter.

“Alana is drawn to Victory. To walk away would destroy her. To walk toward it will fulfill her in a way nothing else can. I had to be sure of it, that the blood was strong enough. I should have known better than to second guess. The James blood is always strong.”

“Are you telling me to get out of the way?”

“I’m telling you that you can still be happy.”

I blink slowly, trying to control my shock as the cold man…softens. It’s the only word I can use to describe the change in his demeanor. It’s nothing physical. His features are still flat, his broad shoulders tense, but his presence…shrinks. It’s difficult to describe but I can feel it, instinctually. “What?”

“A James is their duty. They cannot escape it. It is a hard life but it need not be an unhappy one. In my youth I had my passions, of which Alana is the result. When I grew older, and the fighting slowed, I had my wives. A hobby or two.”

Saints, I can’t imagine this man with any hobbies.

“In my old age, if I don’t die to some beast, I will watch my children build their own legacies. Grandchildren. I’ve heard the older knights enjoy them very much. Yulianna keeps her son out of my reach. She fears for his future but there is no running from your blood.”

“What are you saying?” I finally ask, very weirded out by this unexpected conversation.

“You make Alana happy.”

Ah. “…you approve?”

“Happiness is rare. It is to be grabbed, no matter its form. Truly, our lives are too short for anything else.”

“Then…”

“Do not let duty get in the way of happiness. She cannot give up Victory. But give her that and she will give you anything else.”

Oh sweet saints. Is the duke of Victory…giving me love advice? It’s so ridiculous I can’t help smiling.

“My wives—"

“Please stop.” I hold up my hands to forestall his next words. “This is…interesting but I can’t do it.” I sigh. “Honestly? Since you’re all about making sure everyone knows where they stand, I can’t help thinking you’re trying to foist your daughter onto me to further Victory’s war.”

He huffs. “If you think Alana needs you to wage war on the winter lords, you do not know her at all.”

This bastard. “Hmph.”

“My family is so focused on the war there is no question as to what is to be done once it’s won. What will we do if the James who stands at the top of the Peaks is as cold as the north inside? It will be a hollow Victory that follows.”

He stands from his crouch. “If your fate lies in the north, that is your fate. But do not dismiss a future because you are unsure how to walk the path.”

“Does that mean I have your blessing to marry her?”

This whole time, I couldn’t decide if the duke was speaking as a lord or as a father. My comment makes it clear. His brows twitch. That’s it. If I weren’t used to interpreting the muted expressions of Miss Talia, I’d think nothing of it but it’s made more significant by the fact that’s it’s the only change in his expression I’ve ever seen. Even after the display we put on in the Witness Circle.

Saints damn it all. There’s a worried father underneath all that metal, fur, and stoicism.

With a large huff, the duke rises lumbers back toward the estate, like a beast returning to its lair. Leaving me with more to think about.

 

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