Bones in the Dark

Shadows in the Smoke - 24 - A Rousing Chorus

"Education is core to the success of the Republic. Itria is not a rich land, much of its territory lies far to the north where the soil is less productive and Citizens must struggle against the elements to survive. This means that it must find its wealth in the People. Every child of Itria is guaranteed at least six years of schooling and, for those with the ability to benefit from it, more. This knowledge allows the People to better themselves and their nation."

The Struggle for Freedom by Bjarne Midthun

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Lindholm's cabin was a bit larger than Ester's and had a couple of seats and a desk alongside the narrow bed. She sprawled onto the bed in a thoroughly unladylike fashion and gestured vaguely at one of the seats for Ester, before taking a deep swig from the bottle.

"Huh." Lindholm grunted, glanced at the bottle and gave it a shake. With a disappointed grunt, she put it on the floor by the bed. "So, you have been upsetting my junior officers?" As she spoke, another bottle emerged from a bag stuffed into a corner and flew into her waiting hand on bands of magic.

Ester hesitated, looking nervously around her. This wasn't how she'd imagined talking to Lindholm. Was the woman as drunk as she looked? Was she angry about the gambling? It had served them right for talking down to her! Diplomacy, she needed to remember to be diplomatic and she particularly didn't want to upset Lindholm.

"I am sorry for any trouble that I caused, Arcanist-Colonel. I had just-"

"Think nothing of it. It will be good for them, over confidence gets people killed at the front. Perhaps a little more diplomacy next time though." Lindholm smiled absently and pried the cork out of her bottle. "It is the problem with youth. Even when they have seen combat, they still think they are invincible. So powerful, a fancy title and the might of the Republic behind them. They prance around, pretending to be adults. Confident in their strength and training, knowing that their power has not even plateaued yet. They survived yesterday because of their wits and power, tomorrow they will be even stronger. Fools." She raised the bottle to her lips and gulped some of it down.

Ester nodded carefully. What could she say to that? If she said the wrong thing would Lindholm explode?

"Of course, you are completely different. You would not be so foolish as to think you will always survive and that your wits and power will get you out of any problem? Ha!"

"I-"

"You are what? 17 years old? 18?"

"I am nearly 20!"

"Exactly." Another swig. "You need to prove yourself. The hunger burns in you, desperate to show the world that you are not just another upjumped commoner," Ester clenched her hands, "who has risen above her station, but a loyal hero to your… Empire." Lindholm's lip curled at the word. "The sad thing is, I understand it. Oh, believe me I do. I understand it better than you think. I was there once, I felt much of what you do. Most of us do at some point. The lucky ones live long enough to grow out of it."

"I… How…" Ester couldn't find the words to reply to her. "Great Spirits, how much have you had to drink?"

"Spirits? Pah." Lindholm looked up at the ceiling and then looked back at Ester with bleary eyes. "Not enough, that is the answer to your question. You?" She held out for the bottle for a moment and then withdrew it with a shake of her head. "No, I am sure you are a nice girl. Pretty, clean cut and proper, I do not want to take that away. I have taken away too much. Enjoy it while it lasts"

What was wrong with the Spirits? Ester resisted the urge to ask, it would probably turn out to be some horrible Republican superstition. With a shiver, she tried to change the topic.

"Arcanist-Colonel Lindholm, I am not ungrateful, but why did you ask me to join you?"

"Ask you?" For a moment Ester thought the woman had forgotten. "Is an old lady not allowed to be curious? Or perhaps it was just a kindness when you looked lost."

Ester could feel the heat rushing to her face at that. "An old lady? Surely you are not that old?" Given the strength of Lindholm's magic, she was no doubt older than she looked, but surely not so much so that she could call herself an old lady.

"War ages you, Mage Mazar." Lindholm grimaced and took another drink. "Either you die or soon enough everyone around you starts to look like a child. There is nothing glorious there, just death and suffering. Sometimes, when you have seen what I have, even the smallest kindness seems difficult. You want to be like me, do you not?" Her eyes were suddenly focused, all signs of drunkenness gone.

Ester fought not to shrink back under Lindholm's gaze. "I… I want to be able to help people."

"Mmm. You want to be a hero, glory and praise. Just like all those other young fools. Well, Mage Mazar, let me give you a piece of advice for free. It is not worth it. Go home, live a good, comfortable life. You will be happier for it."

Ester ruthlessly suppressed the anger that flared in her. "I am not some glory seeker! I have my duty to the Empire and I will serve it in any way I can." Was Lindholm right? Was she a fool looking for glory? Ester cast the thought away.

"Ah. Yes. Your Undying Queen." Lindholm's lips turned down at the words. For a moment Ester thought she was going to say something unforgiveable, but then the tension in Lindholm's body vanished and she flopped back against the side of the cabin. "Misguided or not, a woman needs to believe in something or she is nothing. That is what separates us from the Liches."

Before she could stop herself, Ester snapped, "Well, what is it you believe in?"

"That can be a dangerous question to ask someone, particularly here." Lindholm took another swig from her bottle. "The Republic, of course. Freedom, equality and a better life for the People. Now, go to bed. I am far too drunk to continue this conversation."

Stolen story; please report.

Ester gave her a shallow, sharp bow and turned to leave, her mind whirling even as she fumed. What was Lindholm even doing? She shouldn't be getting drunk like that, not when she was in such a position of responsibility. She couldn't help but think back to her visit to the tavern with Sonja. That had been different, she hadn't meant to get drunk. Captain Gondahl had had a story about Lindholm's drunkenness too, but everyone still seemed to think of her as a hero. Was it just that she'd seen too much? Were all old soldiers drunkards? Sir Vitaly certainly drank a lot.

Lindholm still shouldn't have been drinking like that though and she shouldn't have been rude about Ester either.

It was fine though. She'd learn from Lindholm and she'd do better, for the Empire. Maybe she could even help to ease the older woman's burdens somehow. As long as it didn't contradict her duty to Her Eternal Majesty anyway.

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By the time the train ground to a final halt in a small, snowswept village, Ester was thoroughly tired of it. There was little to see and even less to do. After her conversation with Lindholm, the other officers had warmed to her a little. Or at least, they'd been more willing to tolerate her presence, but they clearly didn't want to include her in their stories, jokes and camaraderie. It was frustrating. And conflicting. She didn't want to be a Republican, they were wrong-headed at best, dangerous enemies at worst. But she did want to learn from them and experience what they did.

As the soldiers emerged from the train, swarms of porters and more troops descended on them. In what felt like no time at all, its contents were being loaded onto wagons and the troops were being lined up and ready to depart, despite it already being early afternoon.

Ester looked around, were they going to provide her with a horse? She shivered and shifted her bags' weight on her shoulders. It was cold here, far colder than she'd expected. It had never snowed in Trevayn and, even in Vass Karan, it was rare.

"Looking for a horse, Mage Mazar?" Tomas' tone was perfectly polite, but Ester could see in his eyes that he was still angry with her. Matching irritation flared in her. It was just like in the Academy, people hated being beaten. Well she wasn't going to admit any weakness to him.

"No, I was just looking around. I am curious to understand how things work here."

Disappointment flashed across his face. "I see, you should know that here officers walk with the men, unless it's a cavalry unit. If that's a problem, I'm sure you could ride on one of the wagons."

"Why would it be a problem?" Ester gave him her sweetest smile and couldn't help but enjoy the way he scowled at it even as she cringed internally at the thought of a long march on the cold ground. "I can do anything that is needed of me."

She couldn't help but shiver as he turned away. The cold really was biting this far north. If they'd warned her, she could have brought warmer clothing.

By the time the train's contents had been loaded onto carts and the men (and very occasional woman) corralled together, the day had almost faded. However, that didn't seem to stop Lindholm's determination to get them moving. Orders were shouted back and forth and then, with a series of incantations from the Arcanists, magic exploded into the air above the troops, bathing them in light.

Ester moved herself away from Tomas and found a different spot in the column as they started to march. The officer leading the closest group of men glanced at Ester, but didn't comment. That would do.

She couldn't help but wonder how far they were planning to walk that night. She couldn't imagine that the troops were feeling particularly refreshed after their partying on the train and it was already late. She certainly wasn't going to ask anyone though. She glanced at the nearest officer and then looked away, turning her nose up slightly.

More shouts rang out and the columns started to move. Their boots didn't crash in unison like Ester imagined an army should sound. Instead, there was just the sound of hundreds of unsynchronised steps crunching into the ground or squelching through puddles.

It was already unpleasant enough in the cold. She should have brought better shoes. She'd thought hers were sturdy and practical, not like some pampered nobleborn girl's, but her feet were getting wet only minutes into the walk.

Ester glanced around her, wondering whether she should say something. After a moment, she shook her head. She wasn't going to admit to the Republicans that she hadn't thought things through as well as she might have. She was a Mage and she could look after herself. She'd manage.

Heat wasn't such a problem, she could warm herself easily enough. At least as long as she was awake. Wet feet were more of an issue. It might be tricky to dry her feet without burning them off. At least on the move. Maybe she should just put up with the damp and dry them when they stopped?

No. Ester shook her head again. She wasn't going to put up with that. She could figure something out as she walked. She'd need to make it subtle though. If the Republicans realised what she was doing, it wouldn't be as bad as asking for help. She could just claim that that was why she hadn't needed to bring anything warmer, but she'd still look silly.

So, how to structure the magic so that it did exactly what she wanted and wasn't noticeable? She'd need to affect the water directly, rather than use heat on it, that was for sure. But then, there was also the question of how to keep water from coming back in. Perhaps a Schema on her shoes? Could she get it to last long enough?

Ester's train of thought was broken when, slowly, the sound of voices rose above the cacophony of the marching soldiers. It took her a moment to realise they were singing and then a little longer to work out what they were saying through their Itrian accents.

Something about crushing traitors she thought. It was a cheerful tune, if a bit violent. She started to listen properly as the soldiers launched back into the chorus.

Come arise one and all
We must march lest we fall
Together soldiers stand
For victory is at hand

It had a certain something to it, Ester could even imagine how young Republicans might want to get up and march to the tune. She wasn't all that interested in crushing the Republic's enemies though.

The liches crawl down from the north
Marching on sore feet we set forth
Avoiding death, it's us they fear
We dug them graves, their end is near
Crush their bones beneath our feet
For the Republic they shall never beat

Ester smiled at the sentiment. She suspected the Liche Kings didn't fear the Republic all that much, but they were one enemy she'd happily crush.

Come arise one and all
We must march lest we fall
Together soldiers stand
For victory is at hand

She wasn't going to join in, but she could admit that the song made the unpleasantness of the march fade away.

The eternal queen squats down south
Lies and myths flowing from her mouth
Avoiding truth, it's us she fears
We'll tell her subjects, her end nears
Crush her throne beneath our feet
For the Republic she shall never beat

Ester stumbled as her mind processed the words. How dare they?! Despite the cold, she could feel her ears heating. In the background the soldiers continued to sing, but she wasn't listening anymore. You couldn't say things like that about Her Eternal Majesty! It was wrong-headed and treason!

She forced herself to take a deep breath, the air fogging unpleasantly as she let it out. Republicans couldn't commit treason. She needed to remember that, they weren't subjects of the Empire. She should say something though. It was beyond offensive!

Ester took another deep breath. No. She needed to be diplomatic. She was here to observe and to learn, not to put rude Republicans in their place. She wasn't going to forget this song though. She'd get her own back. She could write a song about setting their Central Committee on fire or something. Maybe Jahangir Amini would help.