Chương 138: Chapter 159: Back

I enjoyed my week as the top student. Nobody ever really clustered around me the way they did for Nathan, but he's the kind of person that folks can do that for. Me?... not so much. It takes a while before people start thinking of me as "approachable", and for the most part I like it that way. Maybe I'm just standoffish. Maybe I'm antisocial. Maybe it's because people have attempted to assassinate me. But I'm glad that strangers never get the impression that crowding close around me is a great pastime.

When people muster all around me, I like it to be my friends, my girls from school, the parishioners from Skydown, the folks from Newtown in Broghton, things like that. I can do large crowds, socials, galas, dances... but that's a structured environment. That's different. I like being popular! But I like doing it in a way that people watch me from a respectful distance. They want to be me, or they want to be with me... but they don't want to be bothering me. And so, maybe, I make myself a little less accessible.

I'm instantly recognizable, since elegantly-dressed, impeccably-coiffed, leucistic (not albino!) women are not common around here, or maybe anywhere. When I show up, everyone at the Academy knows it's me. The sorceress. The top student. Killer. The princess. The prophet. The Harigold, even, sometimes. But on the flipside? One of the real measures of fame and favor is when you're not there and people wonder about it. When your absence has its own impact. I would hear about this later, you see.

On Oneday people would mention offhandedly that even just a few hours where I was expected in certain places but was not there, that absence would be remarked-upon. Because on Fiveday I bailed early, after camogie practice. After all this time, it just seemed right. I was finally ready. Maybe I should have done this much earlier. I don't know. But I know that I couldn't go sooner. I washed up after practice, and changed clothes. I wasn't particularly fancy, wasn't dressed to impress.

Just a nice normal gown, a little lily-bloom lace, a little embroidery, some nice earrings. We were just a few minutes out from fourteenth bell. Nothing left of the day but dinner, and then study hall, and then the free period, and then lights-out.

So for those of us (which is only me) that can handle all our own transportation off-campus without involving the gate guards, this is a perfect opportunity to get the weekend started a little early, especially if the place you're going also hews rigorously to the standard that fourteenth bell is dinner. A portal appeared for me in the sweat-stinking locker room, and I stepped in.

I was headed for a place that Natalie had never been before, but that I know from the one scene in the game that actually takes place here. But then, the Glitter game never did explain why it is that the Harigold family lives in Meadwhite Castle. I stepped out of the portal into the grand hall, well inside the gate guards, the drawbridge, and the portcullis. I appeared in the grand hall, which was the only location ever displayed in Harigold Glitter.

The story never spent a lot of time here, so the devs only commissioned one background. The portal closed up behind me, soundless and seamless, and I looked around the place. One of the dimmest and most Dark Ages locations in the game, it was rather trite and cliche. Raised dais with two thrones on it, a long rug for supplicants to walk along, a few doors that were mostly tucked into alcoves.

The stonework was bland and smoke-stained, and the building was clearly a fortress first, a seat of authority second, and a home... like, fifth or sixth? It's actually a pretty good siege position. Too bad that the enemies of Harigold would never give us anything so honest as a siege to fight against. While my family is in rebellion against the crown, defying royal orders and proclamations, we have been beset by all sorts of attacks, harassments, and bedevilments. But always sneaky. Always cunning.

And so all this expensive stonework is for nothing. There was a maid with a broom staring at me, wide eyes, borderline shock. I did not recognize her.

"I need to find the dining room where Their Graces will take dinner," I told her. Because sure as hell they're not gonna just sit on these thrones and eat turkey legs like a cartoon character.

"I- I- I need to find someone," the maid squeaked, and scampered off. That's not helpful to me. Yeah, I'm not expected. No I did not send word ahead. And also, I did not feel like standing around in this dreary bastard of a throne room when dinner is getting served, while some mousy little maid is running off to find a more experienced maid who is also going to need to find her superior and so on. I do not like starting at the bottom of a chain of command, I'm used to shortcutting to the top. All right.

The apartments for the ruling family in a classical siege castle is going to be the most well-defended part. That means the top levels of the keep. I spread my senses, stone and air, and I felt the layout of the castle. Stairs were there. I lifted off and swooped away. Doors flicked open at my approach, and I channeled serpent essence so I could taste from the air. As I streamed up the spiraling staircase, I could taste the scent of my family getting stronger, and also the scent of rich hearty foods.

I trailed one hand along the newel post in the center of the stairway, taking in the texture of this place. The stone here feels cold even in summer, like decades of disuse are still sulking inside the walls, rejecting the warmth of the loving family that has moved in. I fluttered along the hallways, following the scents of the most familiar people. Snakes don't scent like hounds, they're not good at tracking. But they are good at placing where someone is, by scent alone.

That's good because if I had hound's senses I'd probably get all confused by overlapping trails of scent. The serpent led me straight to them. Most of the halls here were empty, disused. The family had little need for a full castle staff, they typically got by with a nice manor house. They did not invest their money in personal ostentation or aggrandizement, the things they spent on were things that would help others in turn.

Filling a castle with soldiers and courtiers was too militant and threatening, or too egotistical and self-serving. So only the portions of the castle that were needed were staffed. The ducal apartments were among those. I came around a corner and spotted a few porters and kitchen staff walking my way.

"Good day," I chirped, and settled down to the ground again.

"Don't mind me, I just wanted to drop in and surprise my parents!" They were still staring after me in surprise as I opened the door.

"Knock knock!" I called out, and walked in with a smile. It is shocking how fast a smile can be transformed. The dining room was dominated by the table in the center, matching the sideboards that winged the flanks. At the head, my father, at the foot, my mother. All down the sides were Harigold relations, all showing the family resemblance and the family colors. Ruddy faces, blazing hair, bright eyes. If the portraits were accurate, these were some of my father's second cousins and their children, my third cousins.

The atmosphere here was boisterous and bright, voices raised in play and gaiety. The baby that my mother was bouncing on her knee was the spitting image of myself as an infant, missing only the eyes- this babe had emerald-green eyes that stared in adoration up at my mother, her smile was wide enough to show all her toothless gums, and my mother was bent down low and close to the baby, making silly little sounds. My father was in position to see the door swinging open, and he looked up with a placid smile.

Comfortable. An "oh did you forget something?" sort of expression. And that cast of his face shattered instantly when he recognized who was walking through the door with a "just dropping by" sort of smile. His smile crumbled an instant before mine. The tiny tug of terror in his eyes, realization igniting. And that was when my happy-go-lucky just-glad-to-be-here glow just snuffed out.

My mother, with an infant girl on her lap, cuddling and babytalking like she never had for me- she turned next, half over her shoulder, and spotted the ghost-pale remnants of her daughter. The one she had never expected and had not had plans for. It was not a fear that raced through her eyes in that split second. It was a tired resignation.

"Here we go again" was on her face. Cousin Shillip leaned forward for a better look.

"Is that Natalie? My word girl! Look at you!" And in a moment the room was transformed, all welcomes, all smiles, warm faces and familiar hands taking my own. Only a single moment had marred my arrival. Flurries of questions about my dress, the capitol, about the extended family, about my adventures. My father was right there with them, sweeping me into the same huge encompassing hugs that I was raised on. My mother quietly handed the baby off to the child's parents and came to greet me just as warmly.

I smiled back to her. I remember how she once lamented to me that she and I have nothing in common. Sorcery and falconry, horseback riding and natural philosophy. Her answer was for me to change myself and fit her mold. My mother has always wanted a daughter that was like herself, a pliable child to make in her own image. I greeted her politely, with a curtsy. Maybe it would be fair to consider that it has to be hard to have a child as stubborn and self-possessed as I was.

From the beginning I had my own mind and ideas, difficult to compromise with. My father swept me up in another hug. He at least never wanted me to be different than I am. But he did insist on controlling my future and my prospects. He seems to really love me, just like I am, with no reservation. And that love does not have any bearing on his duties as the duke to make sure I am the best daughter he can contract off in exchange for alliances. I hugged him back, with plenty of gusto but without showing off.

I can squeeze a lot harder than the last time we were in a room together. I held that embrace gratefully, more for what it used to mean than for what it could say for the future. I clung to him tightly, but what he was feeling was "hello again" and what I felt was "goodbye for the last time". And underscoring it like a bad comedy was Sir Wrybin out in the hallway arguing with some underlings. The head of the palace guard and my parent's own bodyguard.

I imagine my sudden appearance and intrusion has ruffled his feathers in a pretty big way. But those voices moved away, apparently the ducal daughter was deemed as a trusted visitor and not an enemy to be repelled. Things settled a little more normally for a while after that. The house staff brought in another chair, set another place, and I was brought in on the family reunion.

The Eldoonpuc branch of the Harigolds had traveled northeast to arrange the building of an adventurer's guild, and since they were already so close they had come to Meadwhite for a few days to rebuild bridges.

"And we understand we might have you to thank for those adventurers!" Cousin Shillip was saying.

"They all volunteered," I said quickly.

"I told them about the need, and I offered to shuttle them to Meadowtam, but I do not want to detract from their willingness and accomplishments at all." And that's not just big-hearted humility. I wanted people to support the adventurers and hold gratitude, since that would encourage the warriors, rogues and mages to keep hunting blight monsters. I was very interested in holding the duchy with the highest number of high-level adventurers, after all.

We discussed weather and road conditions, like agricultural communities will do. Well, I assume they do. They certainly do in Meadowtam, but back on Earth I was not really a country gal. My father does not like to employ a great number of wizards to manage the weather here and keep everything clicking on schedule, so our rainfall and sunshine can be a bit unpredictable. It's one of the things I like about Meadowtam, the weather is not as curated as it is in other duchies. It feels more like Earth.

I get tired of the same well-planned shower at fourth candle, the same drying dew without mist every first bell. The third cousins were mostly silent, taking some cue from their parents to avoid saying the wrong thing, probably. After the first outpouring where I got hit with a hundred questions, now nobody seems to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The questions towards me are couched in narrow boundaries. What subjects am I studying, how do I like the weather there, have I seen this new play or that.

I think they understand that classics like "what have you been up to", "are you making friends", "why isn't your brother with you" or "how have you been" are just going to make things more awkward or possibly cause an immediate blowup. Because I don't think I was doing a great job of hiding the building resentment that was filling me up. We discussed the food, and the dining set. We did not discuss the process of buying new servingware after the manor burned down.

We talked about directions to the new adventurer's guild, we did not talk about the blight. We addressed music that we've heard recently, but we did not address the reason that I was paying my own tuition. Dinner was tense. I kept catching small looks between Harigolds to Harigolds, and more and more I felt the weight of being an outsider among my own people. They and I share a name, blood, land, titles. They share so much with me, but not our thoughts, or honesty, or goals.

If an ogre had come through the door, and sat down, and demanded they continue their dinners as if it were not there... the reaction would have been much the same. As the dinner wended on, I was getting more and more tired of the stilted conversation, the careful choice of subjects. There's a difference between being polite and being nice. It is not nice to treat someone like a monster. But I did my damnedest to keep civil and behave myself.

God knows what their parents are gonna tell these kids as soon as they're out of my line of sight, but at least I won't act like whatever madwoman they believe I am. Dessert was strawberries and whipped cream, delicious and light, a wonderful way to close out a hearty stick-to-your-ribs kind of dinner on a summer's night. And when it was done, Cousin Shillip called his kids close to him and they walked out with all the usual polite noises.

The door closed, leaving me and my folks in a too-large too-quiet room together. I could have spoken first and taken control of the conversation, setting the tone and pace. But I did not feel like it. That's the kind of thing I do when I'm expecting a complicated conversation that I need something from. This did not feel like that. This did not seem like the kind of chat where I need a particular outcome. Most of our outcome was already decided.

"Sisa Wellen wrote to us," my father said after a minute.

"She seemed very apologetic. Mostly towards you." I shrugged.

"I respect apologies from people that haven't already been caught out." I let my hair down and let it start brushing itself out.

"She had some things to say. Explaining why she did it," he offered.

"She was being blackmailed," I filled in.

"Kudder. Kralcit. I know." He raised an eyebrow.

"And knowing that did not soften your resolve? She had little choice." I smiled a little bit now, wry and sardonic.

"Blackmail is the crime that makes it hardest to sympathize with its victims. If she had not been selling our votes, she would not have been blackmailed. And then she chose to help them try to kill us rather than push back against blackmailers. So, my resolve was quite unsoftened." My mother winced.

"Natalie... when I told you the story of Idnelps Daria, I was not intending it so very literally. I did not imagine you would think I was asking you to take out all of our enemies in one burst." She twisted in her seat.

"I understand what I did wrong there, you were young and impressionable-""Not so much," I refuted.

"I was not young. I feel like you know that. I was affectionate and impressionable. It was not youth that made me trusting, but love." I couldn't look at their faces, I stared at the center of the table.

"And I misunderstood that," she said.

"I made mistakes, but they were also made out of love."

"Sometimes we make mistakes from love," I acceded.

"And sometimes, there are mistakes made in the name of duty. Sometimes the needs of one or the other need to take priority. These are things I acknowledge. But it is the choosing. When someone chooses duty over love, or vice versa. I have noticed that sometimes we choose one over the other. That is what choices are, what judgment is." My father leaned forward, elbow in the table, and dragged one hand down his face.

"We cannot always choose one or the other. They are both important, and sometimes one is needed more than the other. Perhaps during breakfast the needs of duty are great, and the obligation to our loves is small and easily deferred. And then during lunch, there is only a minor matter of duty that may be deferred for family and humanity. We balance our virtues as we best can."

"Certainly," I said.

"And that is understandable. There is something else I understand, Father. Mother."

"What is that, Natalie?"

"That whether duty is chosen, or family is chosen, you both have always chosen away from what I need." That stopped them both, frozen in place. I lifted my eyes, and from the way they flinched I think my glare must have been a cold and sharp-bladed thing, years of refined resentment shaped into a clean-edged hatred.

"Whether it was the family business, or the family's outing, I have been chosen against my whole life. I know that you both saw my eyes from the beginning. I could see you too. You knew it then." My mother sighed.

"I could see... awareness in you. Not right away. I did not immediately recognize, it but... I saw that, yes. You have always been extraordinary and distinct."

"And from the beginning," I told her, "I could see how you treated me different from my brother. Or my cousins. The children of strangers. That baby that just left-""Shoebe," my father granted. He sounded tired and sad.

"Thank you. I've spent my whole life seeing you interacting with children, and with me. And it hurt. Every day." My mother startled.

"Ev- but- Was that not what you would want? You were so different, and-" I held up a hand to forestall protests.

"When I showed awareness early, you put me in charge of watching my brother. When I started speaking early, I was put into a rigorous all-day battery of tutors to keep me busy. When I showed magic nobody had ever seen before, I was put in charge of mail collection that took the last remaining hours of my day. Did you think I would not see that I was being pushed away, that every opportunity I had to be a daughter with a family was being stripped away?

Or that my mother was carefully telling me a story to turn me into a living weapon she could deploy?" A sharp glance between them, but neither of them bothered to interrupt. Or to deny my allegations.

"I do not know if you got together in chambers one evening and decided with a conversation that I would be kept at arm's length. Or if you just both silently made those decisions and reinforced each other with tacit approval. That does not matter. What matters is that I have been pushed out the door for years. And I forgave it, year after year. Without a word, I forgave you." The words were soft words and lenient, absolving them.

But the tone grated out harsher and colder with each word I spoke, speaking volumes about the fact that every single exoneration had been more difficult than the last. The weight against my patience greater with each new insult. They had left me in a cage for three years without a single letter. It had always disappointed me and it had never surprised me. I didn't question it because I understood why.

"I hoped this conversation would go differently," my father admitted.

"You had a thousand opportunities to try," I shot back. For three years the excuse had been the same: The duke can't be seen to support you. But a letter to his daughter does not need the ducal seal. It was his choice to refuse to support me privately. They had to understand the way this would smolder inside me and forge into the harsh grudge that I was laying at their feet today. So I suppose it speaks well to his discretion that he did not try those excuses to my face.

His eyes were dull and tired as he looked to me.

"We have just... never known how to deal with you. We tried. We did try, you know. But there was only so much we could do..." My mother slumped back, and I recognized my posture, the way she stared into the table and spoke without eye contact. That's something I do sometimes, something I learned from her.

"We have never even known where you came from. How were we supposed to behave? I know that no parent gets an instruction manual, but this - an impossible child. Sweet, and happy, and self-sufficient, but impossible." I started to snap at her, started to lash out, but there was something in her tone. More haunted than I expected.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"What was so impossible?"

"Well, we were worried about complications," my father said.

"Early in the pregnancy. Dangerous births run in your mother's family. So in the early spring we spoke to Fwatta, the healer. Twins are dangerous. But we were lucky, just one child. We picked out names and told Fwatta to keep the rest a surprise. She assured us: just one baby. We checked again the morning of the delivery. We never knew where you came from... but we understood that you did not like answering questions. You wanted us to pretend, and so we did."

"As best we could," my mother added. He nodded.

"As best we could."