Revision – 2026.6.29
A rumour rilled into my ears.
Water was gurgling; gurgling in a great, distant sigh. Well, this is it, I first thought. I’ve come down to the Underworld, down its Underdrifts. Down, down to join the…
Happily, however, my lids quivered open, and I woke to find myself lying in bed. Bleary and looking around, I remembered mistily that I’d been to this place before: it was one of the healers’ tents. The noise of water must’ve been the Erbelde babbling.
“Oh? Finally up, are you?” I heard a voice speak; and from behind some drapery, in peeked a knightly nurse. “Well, do stay put,” she said without interest. “I must be reporting, now that you’ve come ’round.”
Before I could ask “why” or “to whom”, however, the nurse was gone from the tent. Thinking on it, I remembered her, as well; though I didn’t quite remember her hospitality being so brusque. She’s found out who—or what—I am, maybe, I guessed, to also go by the vacancy of all the other beds. Not a seldom sight for this Ungraced; albeit curiously, there was a stool placed hard-by the side of my own bed. At least Emilie was here… I guessed again.
But after a slow moment, the tent-flaps fluttered, and there appeared not Emilie, but the mareschal to the 1st herself.
“Rolf!” Tiselius gasped, all in a rush for some reason. “Oh at last, you’re awake!”
…Hold on: “Rolf”?
“Mareschal, madame,” I said, mixing up my words as I sat up to salute her.
“No, no; at ease. You must rest,” Tiselius stopped me; and without so much as looking away from me, she came straight to the bedside stool and sat herself down. Her face, I now saw, bore a peculiar… “blush” to it, for want of a better word; she must’ve been very weary from all the warring, indeed, I thought. “Tell me, how do you feel?” she then asked breathlessly. “Are you unwell anywhere?”
I put a palm to my brow. “I feel a… a faint fever in the head. The fault of broken bones, perhaps. Otherwise, I think I am well enough,” I answered slowly. “What of you, madame? Were you…?”
Tiselius shook her head. “Nay, not at all,” she smiled, “and I have you to thank for it.”
“I see,” I said. “I’m glad.”
“Yes…”
Even as she looked upon me, Tiselius then fell silent. I blinked.
“…Do you… remember calling for me?” she asked at length. “By just my name?”
A flaming memory then flashed afore my eyes, putting me back at the enemy garrison. There, I’d spotted a fire-arrow piercing the tent that stood behind Tiselius; a tent also stuffed with black powder crates. And it was then that I’d… oh dear.
“Pray forgive me, madame,” I nodded as contritely as I could. “That was in the heat of the moment, you understand.”
“Forgive what? For then taking me into your arms? For getting me to the ground? For holding me in your embrace?” she recited, smiling still. “You remember these, as well, I trust?”
“A-again, my gravest apologies.”
“Ah! so you do remember.”
“I… yes.”
Softly, Tiselius laughed. “…Very good,” she uttered, whilst rather tenderly stroking her shoulder whence I’d held and braced her for the blast. This quite puzzled me. Was she not angry? Her mild mirth was maintained still, as I saw, and so I had to wonder if she wasn’t one of those sorts that disguise their grudges with a grin. “At any rate, I’m pleased to see you awake and aware,” she said warmly. “For fully a day you’ve slept, I’ll have you know.”
A day? I’d thought this merely the next morning. Naturally, I became curious as to all that’d fallen out, though I thought I could guess from Tiselius’ garb, which she wore without its erstwhile armour.
“Madame,” I said. “The battle, have we…?”
Tiselius gave a glad nod. “Yes,” she said. “The enemy committed to their retreat, just as desired. Some of us insisted we give chase, but I dashed the idea. And that was the end of it; we’ve won, Rolf.”
I felt then a deep relief rolling out of my lips. Finally, it was all over.
“Your sister, your superior; they are the both of them safe and sound, as well, if you wonder them,” Tiselius revealed.
“…They are?” I said. “You comfort me, madame. Thank you.”
All the weight remaining in my heart next seemed to lift. I sighed again.
So it was that Emilie, Felicia, and I had passed our baptism of fire, as it were, and triumphantly, to boot. We could now go home together, safe and sound indeed, and with our heads held high. Well, whether “safe and sound” applied to me was yet very debatable. But all’s well that ends well.
“The bridge,” she brought up. “At that moment, mere seconds ere ’twas unmade…”
“Yes?”
“…You perceived the peril anon, didn’t you? And just as anon bolted off to the enemy banks.”
“As did you, Mareschal.”
“Yes, guilty as charged,” huffed Tiselius, who then hung her head. “I’m well-aware of mine own wantonness; but even I must admit, ’twasn’t very commander-like of me to leap from pan to fire like that,” she went on, as if in a confessional. “But in mine heart, I knew it must needs be done, lest we lose all our dear forders below. And so, just like that, I… I found myself racing for the other shore.”
“Madame,” I said. “What could be more ‘commander-like’ than trying to save your men from a ravenous river? Nay, your choice, I think, was the wisest that could have been made.”
A little mirth returned to the mareschal. “You would comfort me in turn? Thank you, Rolf, truly,” she said. “Yet, though we were of one mind, you proved the swifter: in dust, din, and danger you acted, that all the sooner might you attain the tributary.”
My brows lifted. “You saw that, madame?” I asked in wonder.
“I did,” confirmed Tiselius. “With blazing blade, I blew the dust away at the first chance I could. That was when I found you flying away on stolen steed—with its rider railing after you, no less,” she recounted with a chuckle. “Yes. ’Twas a blasting crate that you bore on that shoulder of yours, and a resolve burning in your heart besides. And so I resolved myself: to wager all our fortunes on you; to fend for our forders and foundering knights till the dice decided the destiny of your deed.”
“A wager you risked alongside the Lieutenants Lindell and Mernesse, yes?” I added.
“That’s right,” said the mareschal. “Between the three of us, we held out for some minutes, harrying the enemy artillery. And then we heard it: a riving noise from up the river. And some more minutes later, we were amazed: the Erbelde had begun to ebb, allowing our founderers to find their footing again. I knew then that your gamble came off at the last.”
“A gamble… and a gambit,” I muttered, recalling when the clouds had parted and revealed to me the vista of defeat—of the bridge debris riddling the river; of numberless knights splashing and thrawing therein. And so I had to ask: “Madame, how many were lost by that time?”
A gloom came upon the mareschal. “…Three parts of the forders… and no few of my knights, ’tis guessed,” she said quietly, “whether to the Erbelde, the blast, or belligerence. A search party rakes the river for them as we speak, but… naught has turned up, as yet.”
“Alas…” I uttered.
A third of our forders; a contingent of the valiant 1st—now lost in every sense of the word. This was inarguably a bitter blow. Still, inasmuch as the bridge was gone, and along with it all immediate means of drawing off the enemy artillery, this was perhaps the best outcome that we could’ve asked for.
But to the mareschal, that seemed of poor consolation. “I bear the blame heavily,” she said, almost mourning. “Time and again have I gazed the maps, and yet… a dam?” I then saw her eyes close and her brows bend, as though in ruesome remembrance. “’Tis burnt into my bosom, the sight of them,” she murmured. “How they wept and wailed; how they waned even as the waters swelled. Any later, and…”
…And all would’ve been lost, like pieces wiped from the gameboard. Well, I’d thought as much. Things really had been that close-run, all along. A glad thing I’d dashed madly to the dam like I’d done, and got its destruction going even as it meant destroying myself.
“The day would’ve been a dark page in Londosian history, for certain, were you not there to correct the quill,” said Tiselius, her sad eyes opening. “I cannot thank you enough, Rolf.”
“Nay, madame. The blame is shared,” I sighed, shaking my head. “It was we the 5th who forded overslowly, being spent from too expedient a march. Had we swallowed the easier route, then surely would the bridge be standing yet… and the day won without so much fire, water, and woe.”
The Hero-Dame condoled me with a kindly look. “Well, I must wonder, then,” she said, “whether we would’ve had the 5th to count on at all, had you not counselled a march under moon and star. Why, is it not you, Rolf, who proposed that ‘easier route’ at the start?”
I was struck. “You know of that, madame?” I said. “But how?”
“I’ve heard it all from your officer Kranz.”
…Kranz? Gerd Kranz? Well, well… count me shocked.
“But ’tis you I should rather hear more from, Rolf,” Tiselius went on. “What befell you after you freed the waters? And how came you alone to so far and fanged a place as the foe’s garrison?”
“Well, to answer both… I was washed away, madame,” I answered.
“My word, washed away?” Tiselius said with round eyes. “When you destroyed the dam?”
“Yes. There were yet enemy earthworkers thereat who, as you could imagine, were none too keen to let me blow up something of their own. I had to dispense with precaution, therefore. So, I broke through. I undid the dam in a hurry, dived for my life, and was whisked away.”
Tiselius exhaled. “…Passing foolhardy, aren’t you?” she remarked. “Though that makes the two of us. Even so, ’tis a marvel you’ve survived at all.”
“This fool’s flesh is nothing if not hardy, madame.”
A hardiness fully owed to my parents, perhaps, though I didn’t suppose I could thank them for it any longer. To them, their son had died two years ago at the Rites.
“I think I may guess the rest of your tale,” said Tiselius. “From strength to strength you went: stealing thence into the enemy garrison from behind; feigning a flank attack to rebate the main battle; and finally—and quite brazenly—riding back into our fold.”
“That is the short of it, yes,” I nodded.
And then, Tiselius smiled again. “What valour ’tis you’ve shown, Rolf,” she said.
For a moment, I doubted my ears. “Your… pardon?” I stammered.
“Despite peril and mortal pain, you’ve put hand to hilt, and cut for us the tomorrow that we live now today,” the mareschal explained. “‘Short,’ you say? I must agree: yours was an adventure nothing short of valiant, Rolf. And for it, you have mine admiration and applause.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Y-you’re very kind, my Lady,” I stammered again, to which Tiselius chuckled in her nose, and a rosen tinge passed upon her cheeks. Really, who could’ve thought her one to heap such impassioned praise upon a swain, of all people? Much less one from another Order? No wonder she’s so lauded a leader.
“Speaking of ‘hilt’…” she said.
“Yes?”
“How came you to acquire such swordcraft, pray tell?”
I cocked my head, having not the foggiest what the mareschal meant by that.
“‘Such’, madame?” I echoed. “I fear I do not follow.”
“I was watching you even as we were waylaid, Rolf,” she said. “Those twain swings you assayed have been on my mind since.”
That wasn’t quite helping. So, I deferred to honesty. “Well… they were just that, madame: two swings with a single arm. My other was made lame, you see.”
“Yes, I did see,” said Tiselius, smiling more still, “—that they were swings unthinkably superb, nonetheless. Indeed, it must’ve been millions practiced prior to produce such prowess.”
“Millions…” I mused. “…Yes, that does sound near the mark, thinking on it.”
“T-truly?”
Well, it certainly couldn’t have been any other way. Practice once a day, everyday, from boyhood to present, and there’s the number. Albeit I’d had to miss some sessions this past week, what with the march, the battle, these injuries and all. Mulling this, I resolved to make up for them once I was back home again.
“But that touches another matter,” spoke Tiselius.
“What is it, madame?” I said.
“Kranz has told me, too, about your… unlucky ‘lot’,” said Tiselius, careful and quiet. “And so I must ask: why did you risk befighting that Nafíl nonetheless? Knowing full-well that your sword could never’ve reached its mark?”
“Ah, right… that,” I muttered. My hands clutched at the bedsheets. “Put plain, I… I needed to get to grips with myself; to see how far my sword could really fly, ere it failed. Of course, my mind knew the answer to be ‘not far at all’, try as I might. But my hands, my heart… they had to feel for themselves the reality of it, however cruel.”
The mareschal made no remark, but looked upon me with a rather pensive expression.
Self-conscious, I sighed at myself. “A foolish fancy, I agree, but—”
“Nay, nay…” said Tiselius. “…Yes. I see now. I see your heart. And so this I say to you: that ’tis nothing so foolish that guides it. Not as you might think.”
Very gentle she was as she said this; gentle and genuine. I felt then a glut of gladness well up in me. Here was the Hero-Dame, the mightiest knight in all the Realm, showing sympathy and understanding for this swain’s absurdities. But then, I saw her sit up straight and assume a mien serious and yet a little sorrowed.
“Rolf,” she addressed me. “By rights, I have no say in how and to whom your Order doles their laurels.”
“But of course, madame,” I nodded.
“Your deeds, your quality, on that day are without equal. Yet unfairly, I fear, you will neither have nor earn any honour for them.”
“I should not think otherwise.”
The mareschal’s fair brows fell. “…How I do pity your plight,” she sighed, “though it be beyond me to fathom.”
“It’s not all rain and rocks, really,” I said, thinking to enhearten her. “I’m rather enjoying myself, in fact.”
And once again did Tiselius smile, light and wistful. Indeed, every expression of hers seemed worthy of a portrait. “…Fair enough,” she said. And then, putting her hand upon my breast, she gazed at me a while.
“…Rolf,” she began again. “Suppose I bade you come to me, to mine Order. What would you say?”
…“Come”? Lost for words, I could but blink as I tried to puzzle out this proposition. But not a moment later, we were both startled by a voice crying from behind Tiselius.
“W-wait! Rolf is mine!”
And looking, we found a flustered Emilie standing at the entrance.
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