The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 356 - Just Friends, Just Mentors, Is She Buying It?
Chapter 356: Chapter 356 - Just Friends, Just Mentors, Is She Buying It?
"I merely recognized your family insignia and recalled our brief acquaintance at the competition. So, I stopped to say hello."
’Thank the Silver I married this man and ended up here right now...’
Zyris prayed gratefully in her heart - an organ that was ready to explode from being so close to her idol - that Meyran had been persistent and patient with her years ago. That husband made his way outside just before the Dame Talcres could respond. His expression showed a *normal* amount of respect.
Without the fawning quality of his wife’s... overly jubilant breathing.
"We’re honored by your visit even if it was meant to be short, Lady Iralev. Please, at least accept some tea. It does look like you’ve had a long journey."
Finding his less *hopeful* demeanor more tolerable, Corde nodded to the offer. They moved toward a shaded sitting area in the courtyard as the two young cultivators stopped and stared. Finally noticing her presence... their practice forms halted mid-motion... but the girl recovered first, straightening her training clothes and rushing over.
"Lady Iralev. I’m Nohre, f-friend to Elua er Goltbred."
Offering a formal curtsy that suggested more of an attempt at etiquette than a true history of lessons, the boy followed suit with a bow. Though he had even more of an awkwardness to it... someone still growing accustomed to moving his body at all, let alone in formal gestures.
"Fusand. Also friends with Young Miss Goltbred."
"As well as young unguilded cultivators under our temporary guidance. Come. Take a break for a while with us."
Meyran gestured for them to join the group and, as Corde seated herself, she noticed both orphans examining her with more intensity than simple awe would explain. Their gazes lingered on her sheathed blade, her seated posture, even her essence field... if she judged the spirit brushing against her correctly.
"Have you heard any news about... Elua? And Qatrand?"
Green eyes sought the veteran of three Descents and asked the moment tea was poured, leaning forward with an undisguised eagerness that reminded the Frost cultivator of the Talcres woman. Someone who greatly respected and idolized another and could hardly contain it.
"I haven’t encountered either since the competition, since I’ve been in this region like you have."
She’d chosen not to answer about the recent report, yet. While it had been released to her, it was still information of tactical importance. The sandy haired teen held a disappointment on his face that was surprisingly even more immediate than his braided haired comrade.
"Oh. We thought perhaps... with the reports of Qatrand’s achievements spreading, you might have news."
’So that information has reached here already. Since they had to bring me the missive, perhaps someone else around here from the Continental Army has had a more widely open mouth than is strictly advised.’
"There’s been no correspondence? The Goltbred heiress must be busy."
The woman asked while watching their reactions. Nohre made a show of taking a sip of her tea before she responded. She’d been thinking a lot about the way her master comported herself around people since everything that happened at the competition.
While she didn’t want to be exactly like Elua, there was enough respect to try and mimic parts that seemed harmless enough. Such as making someone who seemed eager for your answer wait.
"Some letters have come for us since we parted. But not as much as we’d hoped. She said they would be busy with the war effort, but..."
"She promised to send regular updates and then stopped for a while. The last letter mentioned Qatrand might receive a special assignment, but nothing since. And that one didn’t say all too much."
The Frozen Duskblade noted the tension in their postures and the shared glances. These weren’t mere assistants or cultivators friendly on the surface. There was a deeper attachment there... one that reminded her uncomfortably of dependent relationships she’d witnessed and felt in the past.
"Is it true... that Qatrand defeated two leader-class Voidlings?"
Fusand knew it was and that their master would not lie to them about her spouse’s achievements. But they had also been told to question it with people, especially important ones, to see what they think of the matter. A sort of ’assignment’ to keep them busy and practicing their social matters.
"So the reports indicate."
"And Elua was there? The rumors mentioned her too, but don’t say much about her role. She wasn’t hurt, was she?"
The intensity of their interest struck Corde as unusual. Friends would inquire, certainly, but this bordered on desperate. Their eyes tracked her every shift of expression, seeking reassurance about the brunette’s wellbeing with an almost childlike need. It was her turn to take a sip of tea and think for a moment.
"She was listed as support personnel during an incident. Working as a sigilist. The report said nothing more than that."
As the conversation reached that point, Meyran steered it toward more neutral topics... knowing that the pair had been worriedly pressing almost everyone about this matter. Topics like the defensive preparations in the region, the Continental Army’s particular response and consolidations, and the effectiveness of various Guild strategies.
Throughout, the swordswoman observed the household dynamics between the four. It was hard not to see some similarities to her own situation, even there. The Iralev family had adopted her, a young guildless cultivator from another continent, when she was seventeen years old.
While a large part of that was her determination and fledgeling sword techniques shining through, just a little, during her first Descent... the Patriarch of that family had also treated her somewhat like this back then. Warm, almost like a child, but also with a sense of distance like strangers, compared to ’real’ family.
"I’ve been studying accounts of previous Descents. Lady Iralev, would you be willing to verify some details about your experiences in earlier cycles?"
"Depending on the nature of the questions."
It came up a bit sudden, but it was nothing she had not been interrogated over in the past. The young scholar produced a small notebook from his pockets, flipping to a carefully written upon page.
"I’ve been tracking the evolution of Voidling tactics across cycles. Last time, was there evidence or suspicion of coordination between breaches separated by substantial distances? And regarding the timing of secondary breaches..."
His questions were surprisingly astute for one so young, focused on overarching tactical patterns rather than the heroics of single cultivators that most civilians fixated on. As Corde provided brief, but factual responses... she noted that the other teen’s attention had shifted to Zyris er Talcres.
The woman had grown increasingly quiet during the discussion after the topic had strayed into information about surprise attacks during late invasion phases. At that period, the surviving Voidlings began to employ ’guerrilla tactics’ and sometimes even sought out places to hide in utter dormancy... springing up on unsuspecting families who returned to their homes as a last vengeance.
"Excuse me. It felt rude to bring this up when we met before, but may I ask about your essence cultivation?"
A moody tension spread across the courtyard as the lady of the estate tightened around her teacup. Corde had only asked because of how she employed her own Aspect constantly. Another effect of that was brushing up against nearby essence fields constantly.
The Frost cultivator had developed a bit of a gauge for the strength of other’s essence cultivation due to that... and she had noted that while both showed respectable development in the other energies, something seemed imbalanced in the woman’s essence field. It was pretty clear to her that the woman was not even an Enchanter and lacked a defined Element.
"I’ve... been unable to progress beyond Initial in essence cultivation. Despite years of effort in looking for solutions."
Zyris finally admitted, her voice lacking its earlier enthusiasm when talking to the other woman. Her husband’s hand moved to cover his wife’s, a soft gesture of support that showed off his long-standing concern. Tearing his side-gaze away from the woman, he faced the famed cultivator.
"It’s not for lack of dedication or talent. Whenever she attempts to accumulate essence, she experiences weakness and a sensation of losing whatever she gathers."
"We’ve consulted specialists. Guild experts suggested I might have some sort of undefined medical problem. It’s... almost like what happens with Negavigor poisoning for physical energy."
Vulnerable words from someone discussing a deeply personal struggle. But she’d been discussing them in more detail with Nohre lately, so it felt a little easier to do so. The young girl seemed very interested in the path of the healer - especially with the anatomy book that the heiress had sent her off with.
’She has hardly put it down since we departed the competition venue on that train. At least Fusand is tired of his crab drawings...’
"With my wife unable to advance in cultivation essence... we’ve also been unable to consider having children. As you may or may not know, we have both remarried after losses of different kinds. Not that we’re unappreciative of what we have, but..."
"I’ve had to accept the likelihood of never having more. And so has my husband."
Corde nodded at the couple, understanding the implications. The Birth Limit restricting cultivator reproduction was an immutable fact of their world and it shaped entire family structures. Even her adoption was fueled by it in the past.
The old Iralev swordsman had wanted a warrior ’of his family’ to pass the Duskblade onto... and he had no surviving children to suggest marriage. Now, she started to wonder how long it would be.
’Before this older couple with no good options left does the same with at least one member of this pair of orphans.’
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