OUTCOMES

Valgus strode down the hall in confidence. He’d finally done it. He’d found an absolute resolve to the seemingly unavoidable predicament for his daughter. Bertrand Solmer, his first lieutenant, had discovered the information while scoping out the Farnax family in their northern home. At that, Rand was more than just a lieutenant; he’d come to be one of Valgus’ closest friends over the years. The two had gone on countless raids and led peacekeeping missions in the Umber Reach. The soldier may have been half his age, but Valgus had come to think of the Muti man as someone he’d known his entire life, much like the King himself. 

Rand had met with the Farnax family under the pretext of hearing out their claim on the King’s orders. They’d sat him down and dined him with exotic fish that were now growing scarce in the winter months. Kesks they may be, they were still excellent fishermen by trade. 

Brinton had an uncanny ability to channel unhealthy levels of self-importance, but Valgus would never mistake the man for incompetent. He’d seen Carmus through heavy winters before, even with vampyr outbreaks in the outskirt towns along the Ring Road. He did rely on ongoing caravans to import grain stores and firewood, though, which choked their attempts at true independence. Rand had sat with him and discussed their baseless claim at length. 

He claimed he could defend the Umber Reach better than Valgus and that his people’s fishing skills could feed thousands. The issue he avoided was their remote location being an inopportune place to protect the entire region. He also skirted over a simple truth. Nearly a third of his populace had either moved south or planned to. No one loved the cold. He also avoided the second simple fact. Chancellor Brinton Farnax was a kesk, which automatically barred him from holding such a prominent position in the Valivoim. 

All that aside, it wasn’t Rand who had noted the existence of the piece of Reverent God Stone; it was his wife, Trillia. A delicate woman, she was cunning and resourceful. She also had a penchant for prying. Rand had recounted how Trillia had talked about her attempts at opening a school of the arts of her own near Jalg. She’d slipped up about a stone of ancient and unrivaled promise as a way to pay for construction and hopefully increase foot traffic to the city out of pure intrigue. This information could have been accidental or intentional. Still, in either case, Bertrand lightly pushed and deduced it was indeed purported to be a Reverent God Stone fragment. The thought finally legitimizing Allie put a smile across Valgus’ face. 

The smile remained long enough that Sabine noticed it as he turned the corner into their bedchamber. She sat in a plush seat as her young attendants spun around her like a Lithegar revolving around a foe in battle. The young female attendant tended her hair as the young male applied makeup to her face. Valgus had never bothered to learn their names; he didn’t trust them enough to get to know them. They were extensions of his wife, after all. Sabine sat tall and poised, beautiful with alluring features. Angles, furrowed brows, and crisp lines made her stand out in any crowd. Attractive enough, Valgus felt she never needed the makeup.

“Smiles, I see,” Sabine said, slightly arching her lower back on her ornate cushioned seat. It had no back to give her attendants better access to her hair and face as she waited patiently. For a woman of little patience for most things, she would never dare rush the dressing process. In her undergarments, Sabine’s crimson dress was laid out behind her on their shared bed. The room was aglow with candles sitting on tables and in hanging chandeliers, bouncing shadows across the floors and walls. Sabine’s shadow was nonexistent, washed out by the extra light around her so her attendants could prepare her properly. Over time, they’d learned not to disappoint her. Valgus had needed to purchase multiple rounds of attendants over the years as Sabine had driven off or harmed so many in the past for failing to meet her expectations. 

 

“Only for your beauty, my wife,” Valgus said. 

 

“How kind of you. You should also start getting ready, my love. The ball will be starting relatively soon. I’d rather not show up late. You can use Darxa here to help change your heavier vestments if needed. My hair won’t be much longer.” 

 

The young kesk attendant looked up at him and smiled as she gave a short curtsy. 

 

“Ah, I appreciate it. I should be alright on my own, thank you. I prefer to be undressed alone, as it were.”

“Understandable,” Sabine said, a low twitch in her voice. “We wouldn’t want people to get any ideas.”

 

There it was, the first snide remark of the evening. Her anger toward him for participating in the breeding program may have waned over the years, especially recently as Allie neared her twentieth name-day, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take jabs when she could.

“Not the thought I had when I said it, but I appreciate your forethought,” Valgus said. Sabine said nothing; her eyes only met his and battled silently for dominance.

 

“I take it you heard about Volo?” Sabine asked. “I just received a letter.”

 

“Yes,” Valgus said, gripping the back of a chair. “He was a good man. We’ll need to arrange for his body to be returned and have a proper burial. His wife and children should be here.” Valgus hadn’t known Volo as well as other leaders within the Valivoim, but he knew him to be honorable.

“Well, you must have missed the rest of the message then,” Sabine said coolly. “The assassin killed them as well.” Valgus’ stomach dropped. There was no honor in killing women and children. “It’s a shame what falls upon other peoples’ doorsteps when they aren’t looking. Luckily my eyes reach far beyond my own home.”

 

“It’s a shame indeed, the loss of children,” Valgus said. “The innocent should stay innocent.”

 

“War is war,” Sabine said, her neck tilted at the words. “Shouldn’t those words be coming from your mouth? They feel alien coming from mine. You’ve done enough killing to know there are times where no one can be spared.” The words left her lips like sour mead. Valgus tensed. Her callousness wasn’t new, but her brashness was striking.

“Every innocent I have taken lives with me,” Valgus said, his grip on the chair tighter. “Like any man who has fought for as long as I have, war is a drug that I now long for, even if I know what it truly costs me each time. Despite what must be done during war or the outcomes of war: famine, fire, felling, or otherwise, that does not mean the innocent deserve to die.” 

“I take it you saw Allie on the way back here,” Sabine suddenly said, changing the topic so quickly it made Valgus’ head spin. “Did you get the answer you needed for how to handle the assault?” Valgus collected himself, the whiplash of Sabine’s pivot leaving him slightly unarmed.

“I did. Thank you for sitting with her. I know her Blessing gives her an edge in planning, but her emotions and scattered concentration can sometimes cloud her work.” Valgus moved away from the chair and leaned against the doorway, the stone cool enough to feel through his layers of clothing. “The chill is permeating pretty heavily down here. I’ll need to return a request to Jalg to ensure our wood and food stores are ready.”

“I already sent that request. Word returned this morning just after you left to spend the day with the King. I was already expecting a letter from Gorlif. I have him attending to Pansilvan, the shell of a man he is. He noted that the Phytom is not the same after his emissary works in Corvalis. I think we’ve reached a point where he is no longer worth his cost to care for. As for Allie, she’s quite hard to work with. I’m ready for her nameday festivities to arrive and be gone so we can figure out our plans for her.” Her remarks about Allie left her mouth like tiny daggers looking for a home in Valgus’ chest. He was used to this.

“Shame to hear about Pansilvan. He is, or was, a very wise Phytom man. He’d helped create several elixirs over his years with us and provided a good steady companion to Allie.”

“Even though he was a gift from you to Pymeria,” Sabine sniped back without raising her voice. Moments like this reminded Valgus how important it was that he retrieve that fragment. Despite their arranged marriage, he held love for Sabine and tried to weather her discomfort in him fathering a child with someone else inside their marriage—even if it was part of a planned program. However, she’d become cold and cruel over the years, a festering anger that lashed out in subtle yet direct ways. Sometimes he wondered if she had ever loved him. He often felt guilty, for he’d gone through with the program for more reasons than just attempting to make a more powerful Reverent. Those reasons though, he kept buried deep.

“Indeed, he was. I, unfortunately, cannot determine which of my children a piraat will ultimately connect to. To be fair, Pym was never interested in getting to know him. He had no use in court politics.”

 

“Could be a sign of poor gift giving.”

 

“Just the sign of a child’s changing interests. Pym used to love the outdoors as a child, running through the woods and playing with the plum frogs. I remember her walking into the castle grounds covered in mud, holding her hands cupped together, filled with the tiny purple frogs as they croaked. I cannot pinpoint when that changed in her, but she knows I find court politics to be a quagmire of my time. The drama and intrigue are nothing but noise to the next task that needs to be done.”

“Then you don’t see court politics as we do. Often that “noise” you speak of becomes the most useful road to accomplishing the next task. This is why you have me, my husband. You can move forward as the Blade of the Valivoim while I work the courts and keep us in good standing.” Here, Darxa pulled slightly tight on a braid making Sabine twinge. Her head jerked back with a snap. Most women would have complained, but Sabine required an aggressive approach. She was a force. A solid woman from one of the most high-ranking Reverent houses in the Valivoim. The Agnar family line was traced back to Torvaat, aligning them close with the creation of the Cathedral of Igavik. They eventually left and settled in Dawnstar, close to the Unclaimed Basin deep within the Eastern Approach. While Silas Tull, the warden of the Eastern Approach, now sat in Torvaat,  the Agnar family was far wealthier and often dictated to him their wishes on taxes and other laws. 

The idea of Sabine dealing with the twisting world of rumors and conversation had always made Valgus feel freer in his daily life. It made him uneasy, knowing she took care of nearly all instances of entertaining other royal families; especially with how strained their marriage had gotten. Still, she’d always put them in positions of power. She was as invaluable as Allie in this regard. 

“You may be right,” Valgus said. “You’ve certainly established your strengths in the court.”

Darxa finished with Sabine’s hair and gave her a mirror. Pleased, she returned the mirror and rested her eyes on Valgus again. 

“Enough standing around, Valgus,” Sabine said, peering from behind her mirror. “You should get ready. I will not be anything less than punctual. While you're at it, please ensure your daughter is ready in time. Females care more about getting ready, but it’s not without cause. I cannot slip into the same soldier’s regalia every day and call it sufficient. Alumeria is no doubt behind. She has no attendants, after all.” 

Another jab. Sabine was in charge of hiring and assigning attendants. She was able to measure their skills and temperaments better than he could. Give him a line of soldiers, and Valgus could spot the strongest and weakest among them. A line of dressers, handmaidens, and maids all looked the same to him. 

“Thank you for the reminder,” he said. “I’ll make sure I send someone to check on her.” Valgus bowed his head and turned to leave. Sabine cut in quickly before he could depart.

“One quick piece of advice, my husband. I know you are deaf to the ways of politics and meddling drama. You look at it beneath you, or as you say– ‘it is noise’. But do not discount the world of women and the ways of influence. If I am to use comparisons that you can understand–,” she tapped her lips with her fingertips while thinking. “Think of yourself and people like you as sharp swords. You are a simple yet effective weapon. You perform your job, and you do it well. You do no true planning outside of what you need to wage war. The damage you do is frank and pointed for all to see. A statement maker. Think of me and those like me as snake whips. We appear as beautiful things meant for use in small spaces - small conversations. However, those small conversations are crafted, curated, and consumed by those who hear them. Our tiny lashes create wounds that are not easily mended. Pay more attention in court, dear husband, for I fear the tiny lashes in the dark over the sharp blades in the day. I cannot contend with them all on my own forever.”

Valgus’ ears perked, but he wasn’t sure what to say in return. The advice was unsolicited, as always, but sent the intended message. She would need more help in the coming days and years, especially after Allie was removed from view. It was another jab, but it came with a sobering reality. If his plan to legitimize her failed, a united front with Sabine would have to happen for the good of the Valivoim as they stowed Allie away. Valgus nodded respectfully, his heart heavy. He then turned and left to collect both himself and Alumeria for the Advent Ball, his confidence slightly deflated.