The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 442 - Learning When To Say No

Qatrand ducked through the entrance flap of what had become the communal living area since the kidnapping attempt on Onya, her shoulders carrying the weight of another day spent making decisions that affected hundreds of lives. While the Goltbred pavilion complex had been designed for comfort during extended competition stays, another month of ’permanent’ residence revealed that the father and young daughter did not like living within canvas walls.

"Tat! Fok sweep!"

Rather, they simply were not built for it. Onya’s announcement came with pointing and whispering that was *somehow* louder than her normal speaking voice. The toddler had discovered that the russet creature had curled up near the warm brazier and felt beyond compelled to share this important observation... with everyone in hearing range.

"Use your quiet voice, little river bend."

The gentle correction was nearly automatic to her now, though Qat wondered if she sounded anything like a voice of family authority attempting such guidance. Whether she did or not, the child nodded solemnly at the rebuke. Before immediately forgetting and pattering over to tug at Ondua’s trouser leg and speaking at the same whisper-shout.

"Papa! Fok no wayk?"

"The fox is still sleeping, little one. Just as you should be soon."

"No!"

"After you eat."

"...No..."

"I’ll read you another story."

"No, no, NO!"

Unfortunately, that had become one of Onya’s favorite words lately - and it was slowly shattering her father’s fragile heart. More often than not, all the vehement refusing was forgotten when their cook’s pureed food was delivered by the girl’s nursemaid. His cultivator strength blood pump also often got glued together quickly and kickstarted by lightning when the girl decided that *she* ’wan buk peez’.

’And it’s been like this all month...’

The space felt ’cramped’ despite its generous dimensions and despite there being other sub-tents to take refuge in. Brown eyes met pigeon blues with weary understanding as the swordswoman settled into the cushioned seating area. His eldest’s spouse tried to be strong, but the Goltbred Patriarch knew that while they would never be ’unwelcome’... taking refuge from the threat posed to their youngest in this way had a cost.

"The Earthen Fellowship sent another inquiry about establishing a branch office here. They’re offering to provide geological surveys and foundation work in exchange for preferential status in any future mining or quarrying operations. I’m pretty sure I should refuse."

Qat know any mention of the Fellowship would bring thoughts of Yatrel to them all, currently somewhere on the continent as part of a kind of mercenary militia that was pursuing Saltfire Storm Alliance splinter remnants. The latest letter from six days ago had mentioned successful ’private’ raids on three suspected hideouts, with two small cells of wanted cultivators and an artifact cache located.

The month had been fairly productive for those looking to pull that problem out root and remaining stem.

When well respected heroes organize bounties and even take the field on such a task, it moves a surprising amount of people who were not ’through’ with fighting. Even if many more - especially mortals - were fatigued of it, the count of people now after the remaining rogue Guild members put the odds *greatly* against the traitors.

"I think my wife would say the same thing, no doubt. She never really did get over what some of the upper council tried to pull. It wouldn’t surprise me if she retired from their number and stationed here in this city - just to throw any of them out that wanted to analyze the work you are doing."

Unbuttoning the top of her collar and hair finally changed to blonde for the night, Qatrand gil Yecine smiled softly at her father-in-law. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"That sounds like her. How many tried to bribe you today, exactly?"

"Three. Maybe four, depending on whether you count the woman who offered to ’donate’ expensive wine to the Warden Patrician. With a thinly veiled exchange for a recommendation somehow worked in. To be placed in your logistical oversight staff."

"Ah. So another sycophantic gear greaser that would probably have skimmed off of the caravans. Or... so I’ve been advised. With the same connotation, if not the exact words each time, by a surprising amount of people. Did you take her wine like that last one?"

"Gave it to night patrol station, just like you asked. With the warning of unknown source. I’m sure a few of them will glug it down anyway to put warmth in their guts."

A reputation for ’uncompromising standards’ wasn’t exaggeration - watching the former Yecine turn down increasingly creative attempts at ’influence’ or plain *corruption* had become a source of bemused pride for the older hero. It really drove home something his oldest always said... that ’her beloved’ never did anything they did not *want* to do.

"Onya refused her afternoon rest again."

The nursemaid informed the tired pair of cultivators when their conversation slowed... and the subject of discussion bounced from behind her skirt, eyes set in the determined gleam. The kind anyone might get when they discover the ’intoxicating’ power of declaring a negative. Truthfully, even Qat felt like she herself had started ’liking’ telling people *no* too much.

"No! Pway moar!"

Such a declaration came with an attempt to lift a large leather-bound ledger on the floor. The book’s unmoving weight sent her stumbling backward onto her bottom when her chubby fingers slipped... filled with an expression of betrayed confusion in her brown eyes.

’Like the universe had somehow failed to comply with her *clear* capability.’

Scooping up the fallen toddler before she could escalate to tears, the nursemaid’s years of experience with the child - and the servant training school she attended = had prepared her for such moments. Settling her on one side, she grabbed the ledger with one hand next and opened it for her to look through. Sniffling, but focused, the girl nodded and made humming noises.

"Is she imitating you, me, or Klaytei?"

"Could be anyone or everyone... we’ve all been like that a lot lately."

Qatrand and Ondua leaned on the table with their elbows, jaws in their palms as they watched the girl that reminded them of their most loved one in subtle respects. Both of them thinking it was quite unfortunate that young children had to deal with the reality of adulthood, in their own ways.

"So you aren’t going to try and make her stay?"

"Her duties and desires lay elsewhere. I also promised it would only be for a month."

"Still seems a shame to lose such competence. If I’d known how well my own daughter was making use of her, I might have been jealous."

The personal servant had expressed at the end of the meeting earlier that she’d done what she could and would be returning to their home city. Interestingly, she had not said anything about taking the fox with her. However, Qatrand assumed that was just to keep the child there from making a fuss.

"If I thought there genuinely was no way to do it without her, without incurring truly unacceptable delays, then it might be different. But I’m just... holding on too tight to the people my... our El trusts."

"Please, you don’t have to try and include me in your thoughts when taking possession of my daughter. I came to terms with that on your wedding day... mostly."

"Ah? I was... actually *just* thinking of Onya when I said ’our’. My apologies."

Both of them coughed and looked away from each other. Yet, only one cultivator hid a smirk behind her calloused hand after the exchange. Over making sure her father-in-law did not forget what it was like. To have a daughter intentionally play a little mischief on him.

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

On the ’roof’ in the rain, which was really just the unfinished second floor of the main residence she had designed, a brunette teenager was dealing with mischief of her own. The clouds had opened up unexpectedly after she pivoted to a different project, leaving the open stairwell as a flood point. She’d already covered it with a layer of Gaseous Element to prevent any more from surging down...

With a ’tunnel’ attached that allowed Madrigil’s voice on the other side to bother her with questions as she sat cross legged, carving a set of portable sigils into hardened bronze. She felt silly for overlooking having this prepared, but weather patterns were just so infrequent in the little bubble that was the Astral Exclave.

"As far as I can tell, and makes sense in the case of all rituals I’ve ever seen and you’ve shown me, the rate of decay of your compost boxes doesn’t follow a linear progression based on the essence input. Which suggests you could easily achieve a greater effect if you simply had a larger magnitude of converted essence powering the sigils."

"That would be correct. You probably bring this up because you expect I know the sigils to contain all that appropriately. That would also be correct... and exactly why I didn’t do it here - and why I would never do it on the continent."

Memories still slightly haunted Elua - of how quickly the dead mouse rotted in her initial experiments, before she handed the minimalized product off to the Silversky group. Reminding her of corrosion by Acid and how easily her knowledge of power through sigils could be turned to weapons. There were already too many artifacts of the ’ancients’ dotting the world.

’At least the Void Defense Society seems to try and manage that. Of course, thinking about such wildcards isn’t exactly making me keep firm after two months without Sevra.’

The heiress realized that she would not feel any better with her ’friend’ still there with her, knowing that no one had reported what she wanted to Qatrand. But she was being forced to admit that only having an occasionally inquisitive scholar avoiding his own cultivation and a load of spiritual automatons for company was not very amusing.

She didn’t really feel like teasing any of them.

Prioritizing agriculture was also mostly so that the exiled noble could get distracted by the various lifeforms in the miniature-realm again. He had wandered around and seen most of what was available in their existing habitat. Elua er Goltbred hoped his statements about having had an interest in entomology when he was younger was a cry for attention.

’If I was only wasting my time and he does not go out with a bug net to fill the glass enclosures I made... I just may snap.’