Chương 335: 6.2

It was so strange how her own desk could feel simultaneously small and vast. When she was Jewel, the sturdy if simple piece of furniture barely seemed enough room to do anything. But as Gem? It was easily four times her height across and half that deep! Only her horns and if she was particularly alert and at attention the tips of her ears could be seen from behind the edifice that was Jewel's desk. She had to have an especially tall stool made just so that she could work!

And of course like everything that had to be made out of Axebreaker wood! Stone was fine for the furniture that didn't require much moving but strong as she was for her size Gem was not going to manage hauling a chair tall enough if it was made of solid rock! And even then if she was not careful to position things as her larger self Gem had to crawl on top of the monumental piece of furniture to get everything she needed into easy reach. It was such an oddly silly feeling.

Something she often giggled with both throats over whenever her memories came back together as one. Berating herself for forgetting to set up her own desk for her own convenience. Paul was an absolute treasure though, he made sure that the local bird master had orders to place any missives stacked close to her preferred spot in the center. Even if it left most of the desk seemingly barren and unused some days. She took the first of the scrolls of the day's messages.

One with Count Thurzo's seal, although as she suspected before opening it the words were in fact from little Imre! He was doing well and had made his father proud on a hunt! There was also included in a separate piece of parchment some overtures for another visit from her friend's family to Valasect. It had been too many years since they last saw each other face to face!

Gem happily wrote out a smooth and neat acceptance when they would both be available with a tentative suggestion of perhaps Swine turn the year after next? Setting aside that message to dry, Gem moved on to another one. Next was a less joyous correspondence. Fiebron had finally set the date for his abdication to this winter. It was honestly a long time in the coming, the Gryphon Lord had not even been able to handle the heights of the Eyrie for four years.

His son would be ascending to his place as Count of Zekhedge and expected to be making a tour of his lands to accept the fealty of his father's vassals. Gem considered that Zekhedge tradition. Would she have been ready to make such a trip at her own assumption of Viznove? Probably not, but Bathory had not abdicated, she had been murdered. Her northern neighbor was having a much more stable transfer of power then Viznove had. Fiebron was still well and healthy and expected to stand in the council for his son.

Gem wrote out a fluid handed condolence and congratulation for her ally and fellow Vassal of the Realm. Practiced grace learned across two bodies making her letters flow even in the sharp and compact script needed for bird carried missives. She set that aside in a different place upon the expanse of her desk, then rolled and sealed the now dry scrolls for Thurzo. Melting the deeply crimson almost pitch black wax over a candle and then sealing it with the crest of Viznove.

After making sure that was placed so the birdmaster could send it properly on its way she turned back to glance at the letter to Fiebron and started on another to include with it. Adelyne was right, Fiebron's son was not his father. So Gem wrote a letter of congratulations for his new position and rank. A more officious overture to speak of alliances and blood lines. Although again it had to wait more than a year before a proper meeting could be set. Magarska and the meeting with the Wolf Prince required it.

She continued with the work, doing what her larger self could not while the eggs left her indisposed. The foreign correspondence was followed by interior missives from her vassals. Thanks and praise for her visits last year. Entreaties to the business they had brought up in her presence. Confirmation of the deals she had struck. Or rather her larger self, Jewel, the Countess had struck. Gem chortled and giggled like birdsong for her mistake.

She wasn't being the Countess here, she was being her particularly gifted 'daughter'. It was important to try and hold those two separate. That was what Bethica had told her... This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. She shook her head of the stinging in her eyes and broke the seal of another scroll. The familiar seal of her family's long standing ally. It would be good to find out how her General on Land was recovering.

Although perhaps the wasting of whatever his illness was might require him to retire? She unfurled the scroll and began to read. But there was none of the character she had come to expect from the old general's hand in those lines. Gem stared at the missive sent from Kliatbatrn. Penned in an unfamiliar hand that appeared to be his son and heir's The hand of the new Lord Baron of Kliatbatrn. And as she read her heart began to clench and her breathing quickened. The Old Lord Baron was dead.

Having never fully regained his senses and eventually sinking once more into the same ailment that she had struggled so hard to put right. And that had apparently only bought a year for a man all but bedridden and deprived of his wits. Gem very carefully released the trembling grip she had clenched her fingers into around the missive. Laying it intentionally and carefully back upon her larger self's desk. That was going to bring a small delay. But they were already going to have Kaeketeh on their Itinerary.

It should still give them plenty of time to make their way to the Capital of Magarska by the appointed time. She reached for one of the small sheets of parchment for messenger dove. Wrote clearly, concisely but with just enough hint of poetry to not be cold. Her soon to be sworn vassal was certainly grieving the final loss of his Father. But Jewel had a schedule. The Countess of Viznove needed to be in Magarska before next summer. For the sake of peace between the two High Kingdoms.

Still the words burned back at Gem on the page for reasons other than her hand's inability to not clench the quill so tightly. She took a slow, long breath, focusing on the feel of its coolness through her back. Circling through her, No longer just in and out, but in a whistling flow. Her chest pushing air as much as pulling it. Flutes in her bones. A music only she and maybe Tsulogothulan had ever heard.

She set aside the missive, not yet sealed, she needed to make sure all of herselves had a look at it before setting a seal and dispatching the order. But already she was writing another. Still the same small parchment, but this one was going to need to go by horse. She had failed the late Kliatbatrn. Been Confident that wizardry and her own Wyrmish abilities would solve the problem. But she had failed and now she didn't even have wizardry to call on.

Her hand didn't shake as she wrote out the request to Bitta of Thuringia, Keeper of the Temple Fortress of Nerthus. But she had to keep holding back on the pressure of the quill's nib to treated skin. Gem shook her head, trying to hold onto the years-long habit of remembering 'this' self was the spawn and not the Countess Wyrm. But her larger self was trapped by the call of her eggs. Jewel could not be here and now and Gem could. But this was not the work of a spawn or daughter.

These were not the acts of Gem the wyrm spawn, this was the work of a Countess. The responsibilities of her larger self weighed on all of her whether she denied it or not. And the memory, the knowledge she had acted, that there was one more step made to never letting her fail again? Jewel needed that. She knew it. The shakes diminished, the trembling tension eased. The aching pain in her hand relaxed. She looked down upon the ink she had laid to parchment.

A summons, a request, a plea for her vassal to provide a council and addition to Jewel's court. Gem gently placed the quill to the side and stared down at the simple letter. The trembling shakes grew again. She tried to breathe deeply and slowly. But the pace of her gasps was getting faster. Why didn't she do this sooner?! She could have written it seasons ago! She could have had this matter settled before Tsulogothulan left!

She should have gotten more involved in the work of her Temple vassals soon after her assumption of her title! She should have had the knowledge to save the Lord General Kliatbatrn in the first place instead of fumbling in the dark with sorcery only to fail to do more than merely drag his life out for another year. Gem's shoulders shook, but she kept her hands steady. Made sure the ink was not going to run. She sealed the inkwell, slid down from the stool she had for when her smaller self needed to reach her desk.

She turned and marched from her office, down the hallways of her home. Trying to keep the tears in her eyes from overflowing. This was too much. It was all too much! She walked steadily even though there were tremors in her spine. And finally felt the warmth and assurance of her greater self. The memories of long hours spent watching over two precious parts of herself and one infuriating indestructible and inscrutable lump. Gem didn't have to strain her voice to speak.

She was Jewel and Gem and the two yet to be named lives in those eggs besides! Gem didn't have to strain her voice that she knew would creak and squawk. Her larger self was already rising from the nest. She reached out a hand to brush her own flanks as they passed. A surge of Wyrmflame filled her to prepare to sooth and maintain the presence of the two eggs. Gem settled between the two of them, one resting on either thigh. Her hands settled atop each.

And the soft indistinct memories and thoughtless peace of two selves yet to hatch. Jewel was going to fly, to revel in the air and the triumph and joy of flight. Gem needed that memory right now. She needed to feel that freedom from all worry and concern. But until then she could settle for the peace of focusing on the fire within her. On cycling and pulling wyrmflame from her own body and letting it flow through her fellow spawn. Just communing with her sisters.

Gem squeezed her eyes shut tight until the rhythm of flame in and out finally soothed away the shakes, until the tears stopped trying to well up behind her eyes.