Revision – 2026.6.29
“Why, Lieutenant Mernesse!” gasped Tiselius. “You were not waiting for long, I hope?”
“N-no, I-I wasn’t, I was, I mean—” stammered Emilie, “—I came running when I’d heard Rolf’d come to. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“No harm done; there stands here nary a door to knock, after all,” soothed Tiselius a remorseful Emilie. “Nay, ’tis I who must ask forgiveness. You are his superior; who am I to solicit him absent your counsel? Some bound has been overstepped, surely.”
And asking Emilie to forget the matter, the mareschal then stood from her stool.
“Ah, yes. Speaking of forgiveness,” she spoke again, “you two deserve a proper apology. Mine Owlcrane Erik has been ill-behaved. I am very sorry. He has been handed a censure, if ’tis any solace.”
“‘Ill-behaved’, madame?” I asked.
“You’ve forgotten already, Rolf? About his beating and ballyragging you the other night?” Emilie reminded me as she made her way to my bed. “And my saying I’d protest to the 1st about it?”
“Ah, that’s right…”
My wits must’ve been under the weather yet to have missed that memory. Not that it was a happy one, by any stretch; but I had in fact persuaded a puffing and put-out Emilie to pursue the matter only once the battle was behind us. She must’ve been busy going through with it yesterday, I imagined, and none too nicely, like as not. But more than likely, this also meant Lindell’s hopes for her heart were all but dashed. I somewhat pitied the brangler now, truth be told. Well, almost.
“Ever the wolf whetting his fangs, that Erik,” Tiselius sighed, shaking her head. “Though I confess, I never thought he would bite so out of the blue…”
“A rather rabid wolf, if I must be honest,” I added, thinking to air a word of warning now that the matter was made official. After all, even forgetting our little row, that such a fleeced wolf should lurk its halls was sure to haunt the Order someday. “‘What matter, should he die on this day,’ I remember him bawling, even as he familiarised my face with his fists,” I recounted to Tiselius. “Leashes were conceived for sorts like him.”
“Yes, very fair… I will mind this henceforth,” agreed the mareschal. “Only, he wears well the senator’s toga as he does the knight’s surcoat. ’Tis not to be wondered how he has got away ungrazed like he has done. Again, I must apologise; this mareschal has been of vain avail.”
“N-nay, not at all, madame…!” said Emilie in a flutter.
Violence against a fellow officer is no slight crime in the courts of the Order. Violence against an ungraced, however, be he knight or swain, was neither a notion that’d hitherto needed consideration. Little could thus be helped if a slap on the wrist was the sum of Lindell’s sentence. Still, Tiselius truly had tried to bring her underling to justice, it seemed, and that was something.
“You have done more than enough, Mareschal,” I assured her as she stood in discontent. “Really, we thank you.”
“You comfort me unto the last,” said Tiselius, showing me her smile once again. But then she took a deep breath. “Yes, well. I have detained you two for long enough. ’Tis time I took my leave,” she ended. But as she proceeded to depart the tent, Tiselius stopped at the entrance and gave me one last look. “Get well soon, my dear Rolf,” she said. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“Yes, madame. Thank you,” I answered. And then she was gone. Emilie, however, stood staring rather intently at the entrance as its flaps swayed and then settled.
“…‘My dear,’ she said,” uttered Emilie. “‘Rolf,’ she said.”
“That she did,” I echoed.
Folding her arms, Emilie then turned to me. “Since when’ve you two become so intimate, then?” she asked.
“From when I awoke, apparently,” I answered. “The Mareschal is given to addressing her subordinates by their first names, as I’ve noticed.”
“But you’re not one of hers.” Emilie pointed out. “…You’re mine, remember?”
I blinked at this. “Well, of course, my Lady.”
For my name to be known and remembered by the Realm’s foremost lion was a genuine honour and delight. But that was all, really.
Yet the edge in Emilie’s eyes remained sharp. “…Why did you have to save her, anyway?” she pressed me.
Again I had to blink. “‘Why’? Well, she is the commander here, my Lady,” I answered, though very obviously.
“A commander clad in armour,” noted Emilie. “I don’t suppose she needed a shield on top of that. Not one as big as you, at the least.”
“Well, yes she did, in fact,” I reminded her. “A blast wave is not to be taken in the face, armoured or no.”
“But… oh, never mind,” sighed Emilie. But even as she turned away, I then espied upon her an expression most… “unlike” her, if that’s any description, passing in and out of sight. Before I could make anything of it, however, Emilie spoke again. “…In any case, ’tis decided that the 1st shall remain here a while. But on the morrow, we the 5th are to head home.”
“Standard procedure,” I remarked.
Standard, and tedious in no few opinions. With the long battle done, a chronicle of it must now be writ and its occurrences re-examined, feats and faults all. And withal must damages be booked, from the blasted bridge to the battle-dead; and furthermore, preparatory drafts must be drawn up for the great rebuilding surely to come. Only when all was made tidy again could the 1st march home, but not before arranging and posting some companies to keep watch over the basins.
“Make tidy”, indeed. Though it be their charge to wage war upon it, as with servants and dining tables it is also the job of every knight to “clear up” the battlefield following its use. Doubtless would the 1st remain busy here for a longer while yet. For our part, we the 5th were to start off home, this region being hardly our jurisdiction, and our duty as reinforcements being now officially finished. Get faster updates on g.com.
“Save for the wounded: they’re to stay till they’re sound again,” Emilie added. “That means you, too, Rolf. Be good, and get yourself home when you can, will you?”
“I will, my Lady,” I said.
“I should like to linger if I could, but that mareschal of ours, he wouldn’t have any of it.”
“Yes, I don’t suppose he would sleep very soundly under the stars without all his Owlcranes hooting,” tried I to buck up an unamused Emilie. “Not to worry. I shall be home before you know it.”
“If you say so,” said Emilie. “Anyway, I must be off myself. I’ve got a meeting on the return-march soon. Do rest easy, all right, Rolf? And no swinging ’round that sword of yours! Not till you’re well enough for it!”
“I will do my best, my Lady.”
With that, I sank my head back into my pillow. But as I watched from the side Emilie making her exit, I soon found her halting at the entrance. There she stood a while without a single word. At length, she turned and spoke.
“Rolf…” she began unsurely. “…Um, about what she’s said; about going to—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I interrupted, aware of my rudeness.
“…Not even if she came to ask again?”
“No, my Lady.”
“…I see,” Emilie said, softening a bit. “All right, then. Off I go. Come home quick, Rolf!”
And with a smile, she ran along at last.
I’ll stay by your side, Emilie, for as long as I may—for as long as I’m allowed.
Left alone to think such thoughts, I let my eyes fall shut.
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