To Fight Against Fate

The week leading up to the harvest festival was busy in a pleasant way, fulfilling and tiring in equal measures, like when you've pushed your body while exercising just to the edge of your limits.

That's probably partly because Sulaiman and Illnyea were being drill sergeants from hell and insisted they trained every day, but that only took up a small part of their schedule. Priscilla unfortunately found that she was able to pick up the basics of sword fighting quickly, and that was simply because she knew how important footwork was while fighting, and Sulaiman took that as a sign to torture her.

Okay, it wasn't quite torture, but Priscilla's arms felt like jelly was they were finished so she couldn't even summon the energy to challenge him to unarmed combat and regain some sense of superiority. She frowned, eyeing Sulaiman who seemed inappropriately satisfied by her flopping ungainly on the ground, and realized that was probably the point.

But at least Priscilla had it better than Kavil.

Kavil was decently fit, having grown up in a community that valued exploring the outdoors and moving one's body on a daily basis, but it was clear by the way he melted on the ground after training that he had never pushed himself to the extent Illnyea was pushing him. Priscilla didn't envy Kavil for having Illnyea as his instructor because at least she could talk shit to Sulaiman, but Illnyea's ever smiling face was a lot hard to stay mad at because she was so earnest and did every exercise with him.

Face down, Kavil muttered, "You're trying to kill me."

Illnyea laughed, squatting down to pat his back.

"If I was trying to kill you," Illnyea said kindly, tilting her head as she smiled, "you'd have died during our first training session – I'm just making sure that you survive other people trying to kill you."

Kavil just moaned in response.

Besides training, there was so much they had to get done.

For starters, Perry the prickly platypus who lazed about in any sun beam he could find, needed a carrier so he didn't turn his eldritch wrath upon Priscilla for displeasing him. For some reason, despite warming up to Kavil and Sulaiman, the little bastard always eyed Priscilla with suspicion when she walked by him, like he suspected she had nefarious intent. Priscilla just eyed him back, daring the platypus to try anything.

Illnyea remained oblivious to their feud, petting the platypus with great care as she continued chatting with Sulaiman about what she should teach Kavil next. Said Kavil was ungracefully spread out on Arnold's couch next to her, looking grimly resigned to his fate as Sulaiman cheekily suggested that Kavil needed to do more pushups.

Despite the platypus hating her, Priscilla took it upon herself to speak with Arnold about outfitting a carrier that could be easily attached and detached from a saddle, possibly with a few protective enchantments in case they got into a spot of trouble.

Arnold snorted when she came to him with preliminary sketches.

"Kid," Arnold said, "are you really asking me to enchant a picnic basket for a fucking platypus?"

Priscilla glared at him, crossing her arms.

"Be nice," Mr. Ordan said as he walked behind Arnold with a tray of finger sandwiches.

Arnold let out an exasperated scoff, throwing his hands up in the air. "I am being nice!"

Eventually, with much grumbling, Arnold agreed to make the carrier if the four of them would go collect the materials because he had used up most of his stock.

It was a simple mission they had to undertake, traveling just outside the city to a nearby warren of rabbits to find horned hares.

Priscilla was so excited to see the fascinating little creatures, having read about them both in TDE and in her bestiary. Horned hares were roughly the size of a basketball, with gangly bodies and the crazed gazes hares always had, like it had spoken to a god and was now doomed to know the end of the world. Two spiky horns jutted out from their foreheads, mirroring its long ears that stretched out behind its head. The horns were used for both defense from larger predators and for offense as the hares attacked their rabbit cousins when they needed more protein in their diet. The two species had almost a symbiotic relationship, as horned hares lingered near rabbit warrens, usually scaring off predators with their aggressive headbutts and occasionally treating the rabbits as an easy source of food when times were lean.

All of which Priscilla rattled off to Kavil as they traveled out of Meadowyar, who listened intently.

"And how many horns do we need to protect Perry?" Kavil asked, readjusting his grip on the net in his hands. It had been decided it was too early for him to wield the shepherd's hook, so he was on net duty while the others tried to herd the hares towards him. They were trying to capture the hares first so they didn't accidentally break the horns.

"Arnold asked for at least three hares," Priscilla said, rolling her shoulders to loosen up her body, "but I figured if we catch more than that, we can dry the meat to take with us on while we travel to the capital. It's going to take at least a month to get there, and that's if nothing goes wrong, so it's probably better to have more food on hand."

It went unspoken that it was unlikely their group would be so lucky after all the misadventures they had already gotten tangled up with.

Kavil nodded, his face determined and they approached the warren.

It wasn't hard to find the horned hares but it was difficult to capture the little shits.

They had a sixth sense for danger, darting around with legs that had far more power than they looked like they should, and they were aggressive when cornered, launching themselves horns first if they saw no other escape.

But it was possible to catch them, even if no one was particularly dignified as they scrambled to chase the hares. After they had caught the first three, Illnyea accidentally got her ankle stuck in a rabbit warren and rolled it, so she had to stay out of the mess on Kavil's orders, Sulaiman a black eye from when a hare used his face as a springboard, and Priscilla's hair was completely undone, as a little bastard had taken out her ribbon while going for her face. She had made do with a rough knot but damn was she annoyed.

As they were going for what they had all agreed would be the last hare, the hare had launched itself right at Kavil's chest when Priscilla and Sulaiman had approached it in a pincer formation. Kavil was knocked off balance by the sudden force and tripped backwards into the small pond behind him.

He landed with a large splash, him and the hare letting out a startled scream.

"Kavil!" Priscilla said, frowning in worry as she rushed forward.

But it was a shallow pond, and Kavil was not at risk for drowning, though he looked deeply unhappy with his current situation as he struggled to keep the hare in the net. Kavil had managed to wrap his arms around the hare as he fell, but the look on his face suggested it had not been a worthy sacrifice. His nose was scrunched up as he spat out water, staring unhappily up at the sky like he blamed it for all his problems, but then the hare tried to kick out of his arms again, and Kavil grunted as he tightened his grip.

Sulaiman reached over and took the hare from Kavil, tying off its limbs, as Priscilla helped Kavil to his feet. Kavil was soaking wet and it was chilly today, so he was shivering, glaring at the hare.

"I am going to enjoy eating you," Kavil said through chattering teeth as a water droplet ran down his face.

The hare eyed him back with an evil glint in its eye that promised revenge, but Sulaiman nipped that in the bud by snapping its neck and adding it to the other five hares they had caught.

Kavil sighed and shook himself like a dog, splashing everyone around him and earning sighs and pointed looks that he ignored. He closed his eyes and concentrated, rubbing his biceps up and down.

Some of the water that had soaked into his clothes slowly drew into the air, drawing together into an orb of water about the size of a fist before it dropped to the ground. Kavil was now only mildly damp.

"I call the bath when we get home," Kavil said, though he hadn't stopped trying to warm some heat into him

Priscilla laughed as she reached out and wrapped an arm around Kavil's shoulders to draw him closer to help warm him up, not minding if she got a little damp in the process. "I don't think anyone's going to argue with that."

Kavil irked Arnold that night when he took over the enchanter's kitchen to make a healing salve with some of the herbs that he had collected. The pot was filled with a thick, simmering blue liquid that smelled oddly like the way that mint tasted after drinking a cold drink, cool and sharp but not necessarily unpleasant, just strong.

"This is the best thing to put on sore muscles," Kavil said after he stirred the pot once and eyed the way the liquid dripped off the spoon before he added another sprinkle of seeds, "because you shouldn't cast healing magic after exercising if you want to keep the muscles you're trying to build."

Illnyea was perched on a stool next to him, nodding along sagely as he explained himself. Priscilla was at the kitchen table, and had been putting the finishing touches on the designs for their potpourri bags, while Sulaiman sat across from her, reading Adita Comollo's biography. He had a thoughtful and intrigued expression, leaning his elbow against the table as he rested his cheekbone against his pointer finger and his fist in front of his mouth. As Sulaiman reached further and further to the end, he leaned a little closer to the book, like he was being drawn in by history.

Priscilla wished she was better at drawing people and could capture his expression, but she wasn't, so she just settled for sketching out a sweater she thought Sulaiman might look nice in at the edge of the paper. A pair of glasses would go well with his bookworm vibe, and Priscilla let her mind wander as she designed a soft and cozy outfit meant for maximum comfort while one read a book by the fire.

"So you just slather this on your muscles?" Illnyea asked.

"Yeah," Kavil said, stirring the pot again, "though you can also dilute it in hot bath water and go for a long soak if you're really sore."

"Will it kill us if we drink it?" Illnyea asked, curiously leaning towards the pot.

Kavil paused and stared at Illnyea like she was an odd creature as he slowly pushed her back. "No, but you'll get the runs for the next few days."

Arnold had been watching Kavil warily after the healer had grabbed 'his best pot' and opened up his mouth like he was about to protest now that he knew exactly what was being made.

"Arnold," Mr. Ordan called as he stuck his head through the doorway to the living room, "how should I process the horns?"

Arnold whipped around, a steely glint in his green eyes. "Hans if you ruin my ingredients again, I am going to kick your ass out and you can go sleep on the streets with the rats."

Mr. Ordan sniffed, offense clear in his voice as he said, "I am perfectly capable of handling a horn without breaking it."

"Yeah, you know how to handle a horn alright," Arnold muttered, the word heavy with innuendo, as he stalked to the living room. Mr. Ordan's face suddenly went pink before he hurried after the enchanter, muttering something that sounded like how they had already apologized for ruining Arnold's sleep twenty years ago.

Priscilla's pencil paused. She glanced up to see that Sulaiman had also paused in the middle of turning the page.

They locked eyes and then simultaneously decided they were going to ignore the banter from the old men, pretending they didn't hear what they just heard, and got back to their own very important tasks.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Throughout the week, Priscilla and Illnyea dedicated about an hour each day to packing up their things. They obviously couldn't take everything but since they were going to probably spend the whole winter in the capital, they did need a decent amount of clothing for layers and some variety. The young duchess that Priscilla needed to save was most likely going to be attending fancy events and Priscilla needed at least a few outfits so she would fit her surroundings and wouldn't let people judge her for repeating too often.

Priscilla knew that she was playing with fire trying to get involved with politics and she couldn't let some judgemental asshole insist she should leave because she didn't fit the dress code. She took her time choosing her armors of choice, picking out dresses which could be dressed up or down based on what accessories she chose to pair with it. While Priscilla normally didn't bother with jewelry, she understood its necessity. The necklace that Sulaiman had found in The Starving One's things joined the small collection because of its versatility.

It still buzzed against Priscilla's fingers as she packed it away.

"Master," Asha said, breaking the silence. The artifact had been silent since the reveal of the cult to Illnyea and Kavil, and Priscilla paused in her packing.

"Yes, Asha?" Priscilla said, holding up her hand.

"Why are we really going to the capital?" Asha asked. The main emotion in their bond was intent focus and anticipation, like Asha had high expectations for Priscilla's answer.

Priscilla may have been able to fool the others into just focusing on the tournament, but hiding things from Asha was like trying to hide steak from a bloodhound.

"There's someone who needs our help," Priscilla said carefully, "because there is a large… target on their back, and if they die, it will put the world on a path that will be… bloody."

"And the lunatic cult is behind it?"

Priscilla nodded, though her neck stiffened as she brought her chin down. Asha took in that information and resolute determination filled their bond.

"Just let me know when you need me, master," Asha said with a vicious edge to its sweet voice, "and I'll be ready to go 'spike-on' the lunatics' faces."

Warmth filled Priscilla's heart as she laughed, bringing up her glove to press a kiss to its side. "You are the best artifact a girl could have," Priscilla said fondly, "always so ready to fuck up my enemies."

"Your enemies are my enemies, master," Asha said firmly, "and your mission is righteous – you are fighting to make the world better, and I am honored to fight by your side."

"Thanks, Asha," Priscilla said quietly, blinking away sudden tears from the artifact's sincerity. She sniffed loudly to clear her nose before asking, "So, what do you think I should take with me to the capital?"

"The parasol," Asha said so promptly it made Priscilla chuckle.

"Alright," Priscilla said, grabbing the lacy thing and adding it to her pile. "What next?"

Asha didn't need any more prompting to start sharing its opinions, and Priscilla enjoyed spending the next hour chatting casually with her artifact and bouncing ideas off each other about how she should style herself in the capital.

Illnyea and Priscilla briefly searched through a storage room Arnold had told them about one morning. They didn't find much that was usable, but there were a few gems hidden amongst the furniture. Illnyea found a thick winter coat. It was a deep blue, like the sky before a storm, with spatterings of silver along its back like clouds reflecting moonlight and gold embroidery climbing up from the edge of its sleeves. When Illnyea put it over her shoulders she immediately said, "I'm stealing this."

Chuckling, Priscilla took a closer look to see what the pattern was, she let out a considering hum. She recognized the pattern that had been stitched there, a pack of canines running along the hem towards the top of the coat, whose clasp was a small stylized sun. It was the same motif that had been on the dagger sheath Idalah had given Priscilla, and the spatial pouch that held Priscilla's gold. For a moment, Priscilla was tempted to ask Idalah about it, but then decided that would be a bad idea and not worth the mental effort.

Priscilla was able to find a thigh sheath and another dagger for herself underneath a stack of chairs, like it had slipped underneath it and had been forgotten. After making sure the sheath fit around her thigh, Priscilla slid the dagger out to check the blade. It was made from a black metal, barely giving off any shine until Priscilla held it up to a patch of sunlight. Then, small silvery specks glinted, like a constellation had been stolen from the sky and placed in the blade.

It was a pretty blade and didn't have any obvious flaws, so Priscilla took the sheath and blade, planning on wearing it under her dress at the capital so she wouldn't be wandering around with no weapon other than Asha at these fancy parties.

Later, Priscilla wandered down to the kitchen to finally meet the famed Bella who had seduced her with delectable cooking.

Bella was a round, ever smiling middle-aged woman with deep dimples, glittering blue eyes, and curly black hair that was barely contained by a bonnet. She had flour under her fingernails and all over her apron, and when Priscilla entered the kitchen, Bella paused in the midst of rolling out a layer of dough.

"What brings ye down here, young miss?" Bella asked, her accent thick yet musical and pleasing to listen to.

"I just wanted to thank you for all the wonderful food you've cooked in person," Priscilla said. "I think out of everything in Meadowyar, I'm going to miss your food the most."

Bella looked tickled pink, putting aside her rolling pin. She eyed Priscilla a moment before nodding sharply, plucking up a cornetto and handing it to Priscilla. Priscilla, as she wasn't an idiot, bit into the pastry immediately and sighed in happiness at the taste.

"Wait right there," Bella said. She wandered to a nearby cupboard and rifled through it for a moment, muttering under her breath, before she pulled out a well-worn leather journal.

"Now here's some of me best recipes," Bella said, brushing the journal's cover free of flour before holding out the journal towards Priscilla, "for when ye get hungry on the road."

Priscilla's jaw dropped and it was probably gross to see because she had only half finished chewing. She quickly swallowed, saying, "I can't take your cookbook from you!"

Bella laughed, a lilting, charming sound, and tapped her forehead. "Ah, but I got them all up here, so it's no skin off me nose. Ye're to be scampering 'bout with Hans, right? He's decent with a spoon so ye can badger him into cooking."

Priscilla held the journal reverently, knowing it to be worth ten times its weight in gold.

"I'll treasure this," Priscilla said, hugging it to her chest.

Bella laughed again and Priscilla envied her husband, the lucky dog.

Priscilla showed off her prize to the others when she got home, nose stuck up proudly in the air.

Kavil perked up from where he had just been lying on the couch, staring pitifully up at Sulaiman, trying to get the other man to put the muscle salve on his back. "Can I take a look at it?"

"Sure," Priscilla said, handing it over. He opened the book delicately, his brows furrowed in concentration as he began to read. Priscilla perched on the couch next to him, peering over his shoulder to see the recipe. Bella's handwriting was blocky but legible, written with only capital letters with blunt directions.

"I'll try this one out tonight," Kavil said, stopping at a recipe for a stew. Priscilla began to read the recipe, excitement bubbling inside her as she read the ingredients.

Sulaiman leaned in on the other side, peering at the pages.

"What inspired you to learn how to cook, Kavil?" Sulaiman asked, glancing at him with a quizzical expression. Kavil went still, his eyes locked on the book as he blinked a few times.

"Uh, no particular reason," Kavil said, his fingers tapping on the pages nervously.

Sulaiman's lips curled upwards, the hint of dark amusement in his eyes as he glanced at Priscilla for some reason. She had been in the middle of imagining the future where she would be feasting like a queen on the road courtesy of Kavil. It sounded like heaven.

"Really?" Sulaiman asked, leaning in with a devious look in his eyes. "It has nothing to do with anything or anyone at all?"

Kavil looked like a panicked deer, staring at Sulaiman with wide eyes, fingers gripping the journal a little tighter. Priscilla could tell that there was another layer to Sulaiman's questions, but she couldn't get what he was getting at nor why Kavil was reacting so strongly.

Abruptly, Kavil stood, knocking both Priscilla and Sulaiman off balance, and crashing into one another. Priscilla swore as she fell into Sulaiman's lap and cursed again when he shoved her off and she ended up sprawled across the floor.

"I'm starting now," Kavil said, fleeing to the kitchen.

Priscilla stared, wondering just what was up with him, before she glared at Sulaiman, who had righted himself and was dusting off imaginary lint.

"Fuck you," Priscilla said, hauling herself up to her feet.

Sulaiman just responded by lifting up his middle finger, raising one pointed eyebrow, and Priscilla couldn't help her delighted bark of laughter.

The stew Kavil ended up cooking was hearty, the type that stuck to your ribs and left you feeling fat and happy. But Kavil seemed unsatisfied as he moved the stew around with his spoon, chewing on his lip.

"It's missing something," Kavil muttered.

"I thought it was great," Priscilla said, polishing off her bowl.

Kavil eyed Priscilla, as if he didn't believe her. "Was it as good as Bella's?"

Priscilla blinked, taken aback. "Uh, no, but I still thought it tasted good, right guys?"

She glanced around at the others at the table, who all nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Illnyea had finished her bowl while Sulaiman took dainty bites, and the two old men were nursing their bowls with buttered bread. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it.

But Kavil frowned, poking a chunk of potato.

"I could have sliced it more evenly," Kavil muttered, "and added more… something."

"Salt, perhaps?" Arnold suggested dryly. Kavil perked up, nodding.

"What else is it missing?" Kavil asked, turning towards the enchanter, who seemed unhappy with that development.

"Bah," Arnold said, "don't look at me – Hans is the one who cooks."

For the rest of the meal, Kavil badgered Mr. Ordan to figure out where he went with the meal, despite it being perfectly satisfactory. Priscilla shrugged, happy Kavil had a new passion, and got herself a second helping.

On the night before the festival, Priscilla gave her room one final sweep to see if she needed anything else. Her books were all safely at Arnold's house, along with her clothing (much of it stuffed into the storage space pocket in her bag), the best pillow had been snuck away. Asha didn't have any more suggestions, so Priscilla thought she was all good to go.

Illnyea walked into Priscilla's room, a mixed expression on her face, like she couldn't decide if she was confused, angry, or tired.

"You alright, 'nyea?" Priscilla asked, frowning as she caught sight of her sister.

Illnyea just walked to Priscilla's bed and flopped backwards on it so she could stare up at the ceiling. "I don't know," Illnyea said, quiet and frustrated.

Priscilla's frown deepened and she walked to the bed. When her weight made the bed dip, Illnyea finally looked at Priscilla, chewing on her cheek.

"Mom talked to me," Illnyea said, glancing away.

They had both done their best to avoid the Thornewoods this past week, sneaking in and out through the side entrance to avoid the main common areas, and spending most of their time at Arnold's house.

"Oh?" Priscilla said mildly, something dangerous curling in her stomach. If Idalah had tried to guilt trip Illnyea into staying, Priscilla was going to throw hands and it wouldn't be pretty.

Illnyea's face twisted unhappily, and she sighed. "It was… well, she said she was sorry she didn't come for me."

"Promsing start.

"That was the highlight of the conversation," Illnyea said before sighing even heavier this time as she closed her eyes. "She wanted to know if there was any way she could 'fix this.'"

Priscilla held her tongue, keeping her thoughts to herself because it wasn't Priscilla's place to decide how Illnyea's relationship with her parents developed.

Without opening her eyes, Illnyea reached out and pulled one of Priscilla's pillows into her arms, squeezing it tight to her chest.

"I told her it's unlikely because she proved what mattered most to her wasn't her children," Illnyea said, a quiet, devastating sadness coating her words as she opened her eyes, "but our father and their business and she… she didn't seem to like that answer. Said that she loved me and would do anything to make it right, promising to change, that she'd let father take over entirely so she could focus on me, saying all these things but…" Illnyea sighed again, looking at Priscilla with a regretful slant to her mouth. "It just felt like a bunch of empty promises that came too little too late, you know? And when she was done speaking, I just asked her when was the last time she had told you that she loved you."

Illnyea reached over and squeezed Priscilla's hand, taking a deep breath. "Mom got really sad but… she couldn't answer the question, and I didn't really know what to do after that, and I just walked away and came here."

Priscilla let out a long, slow breath, processing that interaction.

"That's…" Priscilla's words faltered as she tried to figure out what to say. "That's certainly something."

Illnyea snorted, the sound free of true amusement. "Yeah, it's something alright, but to be honest, I don't really want to think about it anymore."

"Then we don't have to," Priscilla said. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to pick out our outfits for the harvest festival for tomorrow," Illnyea said, sitting up.

"One fashion show, coming right up!" Priscilla said, pulling Illnyea to her feet. The sorrow was gone from Illnyea's face now, replaced by a quiet sort of joy as they dove headfirst into the activity.