Reborn From the Cosmos

The camp looks…nice.

The efforts to clear the city has put some vitality into the refugees. It seems they've pooled their skills and magic to make their temporary homes more livable. The lean-tos with dirty cloths for roofs and ragged tents have been cleared, making room to expand the boxy shelters. Those have been remodeled, with new slanted roofs, doors, and shuttered windows. Even the road through the camp has been improved, the earth tightly packed to be smooth. I still wouldn't want to spend so much as a day in this place, and I'm sure there's still a lack of comforts inside the buildings, but it doesn't look so, well…pitiful.

The refugees are the same. When I first rode through the camp, their eyes were lifeless and their bodies were heavy with despair. There isn't an abundance of smiles to go around, but their frowns are thin and tight with determination rather than drooping with sadness. People are moving, their steps quick and filled with purpose. The chatter is not the low drone of meaningless conversation, but the pointed tone of productive points being made and the loud bellowing of instructions. Even the children are involved, trailing behind adults with their own little frowns, their round faces making the expressions more adorable than dour.

"They're resilient," Alana comments, watching the camp with a mirror of my own fascination.

"Yeah." I settle back into my seat. "What do you think about our new friends?"

"This Coalition for Quest? Or the knights?"

"Not a fan of Harvest's best, huh?"

She scoffs. "You made a good point him taking out his frustration on that man. How long have the supposed best of the kingdom been trying to catch this Sin? Weeks now and nothing."

"Their focus is spread thin," Kierra offers, voice soft. She hasn't wrapped herself around me again but she has a tight grip on my hand, our fingers intertwined. "They are few and yet they have many objectives. Protecting my father's gift. Defending the camp. Hunting rebels."

"I wouldn't be surprised if at least one isn't safeguarding the prince," I add. That's why they're here in the first place, right? It wouldn't look good if they left him on his own in the middle of this crisis.

"That's not the real problem." Alana crosses her arms. "They're soldiers. They hunt manabeasts, not people. He's out of his element and trying to make up for it with brute force and bravado."

"You disapprove?"

She frowns. "I'd understand if he was just some knight. Wouldn't expect anything more. But he's not just some knight, is he? He's the knight. Or he's supposed to be. Yet he's punching a man to shut him up like some kind of thug."

"Disappointed?"

She doesn't answer but there's an answer in the tilt of her head as she turns away. I wonder where it's coming from. I wouldn't think the independent north would put much stock in the crown or the knights that represent it. Perhaps it's like the saints, an idea that is so deeply ingrained, you don't think about.

"What would you do?"

"You mean if I didn't have the succubus who's already infiltrated them?" She crosses her arms and closes her eyes as she thinks. "Knowing what they know…I'd have regular soldiers mix with the refugees and see if they can get recruited."

"Sneaky."

"The direct approach isn't working so well."

"But wouldn't they get discovered pretty quick? Not being from here and all."

"Depends? I'm sure there are plenty of Quest natives in the army. They could send for someone that wouldn't draw attention." She huffs. "Though with their resources, I don't know why they haven't flooded the city with soldiers. Feels like they said they were going to catch the rebels thinking it would be easy and now that it's proven harder than expected, they can't be bothered to do their job."

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Oh, I can imagine that. The people aren't happy with the crown right now. Taking out a few uppity bandits they like even less would be a neat way to improve their reputation. If they weren't failing so spectacularly. Though it's not like they have a shapeshifter that can read minds helping them. Outmanned and on unfamiliar ground, I hardly blame them for struggling.

Soon enough, Gajin is parking the carriage. While the acolytes are still in charge of the field, telling my gardener turned driver where he can wait after dropping us off, a few men approach him, asking if they can bring water for the horses or give them a brush. For a small fee, of course. I catch Gajin's eyes and nod. It's good to see some life in them.

Less good to see is Butterfly waiting at the edge of the field. A knight in golden armor stands just behind her, a stark contrast to her casual dress, a simple one-piece of soft brown, tied around her waist with a golden sash with the head of a stag embroidered on the front. She's holding a walking stick. One crafted for the purpose, the length too smooth for a random stick, the wide, round head perfectly fitted for her hand.

Her eyes are closed but she stares directly at us as we dismount. Cheh. That same behavior is wonderfully mysterious from my precious flower but coming from the fake seer, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Still, she's the reason we're here. It'd be a bit ridiculous to turn around and ride away, no matter how much I want to.

Resigned, I square my shoulders and march toward her. She smiles as we stop in front of her, but there's nothing happy in the expression. "Good morning, countess. What brings you to me today?"

"You don't know?"

"Where's the fun if I look at all the answers before hand?"

"Uh-huh. And the real reason?" Is she messing with me.

Her smile wilts. "Looking at you is like looking at the sun. I'm going to see its effects whether I want to or not but staring directly at it for long? Bad idea." She lazily waves her stick. "Bad enough that I've got this just in case."

"Your abilities make you physically weak?"

"Not quite. I'll explain more over breakfast if you're interested. Less chance of me falling on my face that way, too."

"Sure."

I expect her to lead us to her tent or whatever temporary shelter they've constructed for someone of her status. Instead, she guides us to a quiet corner of the camp, a place just beside the short walls. Despite it being nowhere, there is a small square table set up, complete with less than pristine white table cloth and a clay vase filled with fresh flowers. I frown at the silver tray topped with a steaming pot of tea, bowls of bread and cut fruit alongside it.

"You knew we were coming," I grouse as she waves for us to take seats, of which there are four.

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't." The knight walks away from us, giving us the illusion of privacy while remaining close enough to protect his charge. "Now, how can I be of service? Just don't tell me you're refusing the position."

My brows go up. "Did you see that too?"

She makes a sound between a huff and a sigh as grabs a small plate from the tea tray and the bowl of fruit. "I don't know how my eyes compare to true seers, but things aren't that cut and dry. I don't so much see the future as I…" She sighs. "It's complicated. Suffice it to say, it was a possibility. But you know that better than me."

True. I've contemplated throwing the royal writ in the trash and hightailing it to the elven continent. "I've decided to graciously accept my new title."

"May the saints bless your house and territory."

"And I have plans."

She stiffens, eyes fluttering behind their lids. Then she slumps, shoulders dropping like a heavy log is balanced on them. "Why me?" she whines like a child being dragged to their lessons.

"Um…"

"Hey, can I retire? Seriously, just pluck these damn things out of my head and let me sleep. Preferably forever."

"…did you just ask me to kill you?"

"No. Maybe."

"Oi."

She rubs her eyes. "Go on. Lay your plans on me, my wonderful countess. This simple servant of the crown will do everything in her power to assist you."

Despite her words, her tone suggests she wants me to do anything but. "I plan to enlist the Temple to help rebuild and manage the new Quest." Hm? That might not be bad. New Quest. Enough of the old to not be foreign but a clear separation, like Kierra suggested. I glance at the still moping elf and pour her a cup of tea. "I'm here to make sure none of this conflicts with whatever the crown is hoping for. I doubt you really came here with no objectives. Better we have everything out in the open than a seer trying to manipulate things in the shadows."

"Like I'd dare," the woman mutters, before raising her voice. "Sounds simple enough. I'm going to ramble for a bit."

It's my turn to stiffen. "You're doing it."

"Lou, please."

"You're about to do it."

"For the love of the saints! This isn't going to end with you sacrificing your first born or anything."

I just barely keep from jumping out of my seat. "You better not involve my child!"

"Your wha…" She freezes, mouth hanging open. Blood starts to flow from her nostrils, dripping onto her forgotten food before the fruit slips from her trembling fingers. Then she pitches to the side, falling out of her chair.