Mistakes Were Made [Wulfbauer]

[kleineklementine]

OOC: Tags to @Cambie ! This takes place during Year Nine of the Connlaothian Civil War, following events in Hellvion.



The landscape of her childhood passed before her like a dream. Or like a nightmare. Constance Carwick, or “Olive”, watched the rolling hills and forests of Wulfbauer, all bright lively green with new spring growth, from the back of an army supply wagon. The daughter of the last Carwick duke of Wulfbauer sat cramped, bound and gagged, between empty sacks devoid of supplies; little were left after the harsh winter that had ravaged Connlaoth. Bound because she was a prisoner, hauled away by the army that had rushed to the chaos unfolding in the small village near the border with Hellvion. Gagged because she was a mage, and without a Mordecai in their midst, the nervous soldiers hoped that the gag would keep the mage from casting any spells.

Were she someone else, she knew, she would have been killed on the spot and left dead in the ruin of the storm she’d made. But the villagers had spoken on her behalf. She was no mage, they told the soldiers, or that she was no ordinary mage. She was Lady Constance, who they had long though dead, and the last of the Carwick line. More than that, they said, she had saved them. Or most of them.

Olive wasn’t sure.

One of the villagers had found her two days earlier, at the end of her rope in her flight from Hellvion. Her horse had gone lame and she’d been forced to go on on foot. The man, too old to serve in the army and now retired to his ancestral village, had once been a guard at Wulfbauer Keep. Despite her dishevled appearance and rumors that she had died years ago in the mage camps, the man had recognized the girl he’d once been tasked with protecting. He had to insist on taking Olive, hiding her in the village. The villagers, what little of them there were, had all agreed. Despite the fact that she was a mage - or perhaps because she was a mage, but because she had been pious and held up as an example of what a Connlaothian mage should be, because her parents had kept her and hadn’t sent her to the Church - for all those reasons, Constance had been loved by her father’s people. They would hide her; they would shelter her. Reluctantly, Olive had agreed.

She hadn't known what was coming.

Now she wished more than anything they hadn’t. For their kindness, they had been repaid with the destruction of their village. The loss of their livelihoods and their homes. Some had lost their lives. Many of them had not, but one was too many. Olive closed her eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath through the gag. Unsure what to do with the claims of the villagers that the mage the soldiers had found in the midst of the chaos was the "dead" Lady Constance, the soldiers had decided to take the girl to Wulfbauer Keep. Duke Therrien would decide her fate.

Across from her, bound on the other side of the supply cart, was a captured soldier of Krah’s forces. The forces that would have, Olive was sure, killed every last person in the village if they’d had their way. He was not gagged, and as the cart bumped and rolled down the road towards Wulfbauer Keep, Olive listened to his constant stream of insults and threats. But they rolled off her. Olive was focused on the scenery, the landscape and preoccupied with what would happen once they arrived to the place that had, for most of her life, been her home.

They weren’t far now.

____________________________________________________

Ahead of the army cart, a rider had been sent ahead to bring news of the happenings to the duke. The man dismounted his horse, handing it over to the stableboy and pausing only long enough to ask where the Duke was at that  moment. Minutes later the tired, breathless soldier, burst unannounced into the Duke’s study.

“M’lord,” he panted, “urgent news.”

[Cambie]

By all accounts the winter had been just as devastating as the wind readers had predicted. Even now snow still fell intermittently from the grey skies above, though they were nowhere as violent as the blizzards ravaging the countryside for the last months, grinding any semblance of a functioning duchy to a halt. Even now, the small reserve of Wulfbauer's army, the ones not already attached to the Grand Duke's forces, struggled to clear roads and bring much-needed supplies to the outermost isolated towns.

Food, of course, had been scarce throughout the ordeal. They'd all predicted it. But Erwin's early response to the potential crisis had meant that, at the very least, most of Wulfbauer's citizens survived. The rationing had been tight, and the supply lines very infrequent, but it'd worked. Even as the Duke stood in his study, poring over a desk covered in maps and reports, there was some trickle of good news: Wulfbauer had fared slightly better than the other less-prepared duchies.

He had no time to reward himself or pat himself on the back, though. As the Duke, he wouldn't be judged on the correct things he did (indeed, the things expected of him), but rather from his failures. He had to continue doing right by his people, and it was getting increasingly difficult to do so. Most days he had advisors feeding him conflicting advice, and he was at a loss as to who had the best plans. It'd gotten to the point where, today, he had ordered them all out of the castle.

What little measure of peace he had was shattered when a snow-covered soldier burst into his study, clumsily saluting the Duke. Erwin looked up with a frown, cup of tea halfway up to his mouth before the interruption. What new urgent news could there be?

"Speak freely."

"My Lord," the soldier said, panting through quick breaths. "The town of Valence, on the border of Hellvion, was attacked and destroyed yesterday. By forces bearing the banner of the Grand Duke."

Erwin perked up and stared at the soldier, immediately setting down his tea. What had he just heard?

"There's more," the soldier continued. "Our reserves arrived and captured two prisoners. One of them is Lady Carwick. Lady Constance Carwick."

The Duke's brow furrowed as he said, "That's impossible, Lady Carwick is dead."

"Begging your pardon, my Lord, but apparently she is not. We are transporting her here now, she should be here within the hour."

[kleineklementine]

“They don’t believe you, you know.”

Olive’s eyes left the snowflakes that were falling around them in the spring flurry, coating the landscape in snow. The landscape, as well as the two prisoners; the cart was open and without a roof. Olive looked at the bloodied soldier they’d captured from Krah, unable to respond to his snarling statement.

“Those soldiers. I saw it in the way they looked at you. They don’t believe you’re 'Lady Constance’ or whatever it was all those vermin villagers were saying. Look at you,” he sneered. The man had fallen silent for awhile, perhaps asleep, but was awake and leering at her again. He did have a point. Olive looked nothing like a ‘lady.’ She’d always been a bit of a skinny tomboy, but the winter had left her underfed and bony. She was covered in mud, blood, and dressed in travelers’ rags that were too big for her. And the exertion of the magic she’d performed had left her pale, exhausted, and ashen. But her gaze was level, proud, and defiant. She knew who she was.

Though to that point she hadn’t said anything herself. The villagers had interceded, saying that she was the late Duke Carwick’s daughter, it was true. But Olive had said nothing, even before they gagged her. After seeing the ruins of the village, she was unsure if she wanted whatever favor being Constance Carwick would garner her.

“You can bet that Duke won't believe you, either, witch. He’ll hang you on sight,” came the snarling conclusion of the man, spitting at her. “Should’ve just hung you all from the start. Filthy mage.”

Olive turned her attention away from the man again. Because as he spit the words at her, the cart was rumbling into Wulfbauer Keep. She recognized every hill and swail and garden and cottage. Leaner than when she’d last seen it, but it was home. Or it had been. In another half hour, the cart pulled in front of the stables of the Keep. The soldiers came around and roughly pulled out the man, then Olive. And as she found her footing, Olive’s eyes immediate found someone she recognized.

It was Bairn, one of the stablemen. A limp in one of his knees had kept him out of the army, and he’d worked in the stables all through her childhood. He had a son her age, and the two had been thick as thieves, running about the Keep and playing in the stables. And she saw that he recognized her, too.

“Miss Olive,” the graying man breathed, looking on with open mouthed shock. Then he said more certainly, “Lady Constance!” as he moved forward to embrace the bound and gagged girl.

But Bairn was intercepted by one of the soldiers. “Steady there, old man,” he warned, holding a bayonetted musket in front of the stableman. “That’s a prisoner of the Duke. He’ll determine just who this mage is, and what to do with her. Get back to your station now.”

Bairn opened his mouth to protest, but before he could two of the stable dogs - Olive had always had a soft spot for dogs, and the two spaniels had been no exception - bounded forward, tails wagging. The dogs jumped up, whining and trying their hardest to cover Olive in doggie kisses. The two spaniels, at least, had no uncertainty about who this woman was.

[Cambie]

It had taken the better part of an hour questioning the scout to ascertain whether or not their prisoner was actually the long-lost Constance Carwick. In the end, even the soldier had to admit that he didn't know for sure, and that everything he'd relayed to Erwin was conjecture. The surviving villagers all avowed to it, but none of the soldiers could confirm her identity.

When the cart rolled its way past the stronghold's outer gates and into a snow-covered bailey, Erwin stood quietly in the opened doorway of the Keep, watching tired soldiers file in one by one. He could not blame them for looking exhausted. The winter had taken its toll on them, and now with news of bloodshed coming so soon after, the Duke thanked Ansgar that they still remained stoic and vigilant. If the reports were confirmed, that Calent's banner had flown in Valence...

The two prisoners they dragged out of the cart were unrecognizable from this distance, and Erwin had doubts that one of them really was Constance Carwick. He observantly noted the stablehand's reaction, though, along with the gleeful playfulness with which the stable dogs danced around that one prisoner's gaunt frame.

He strode purposefully toward the group, a hard look upon his face. It would have been difficult not to notice the way his brows rose the closer and closer he got though. This girl (it was a girl, after all) really did strike chords of familiarity with Erwin, and the more and more he eyed her up and down, the clearer it became.

He knew her. Despite her ill-fitting clothes, the disheveled hair and grime-covered skin, she could only be a Carwick. He'd known her in his younger days, when she was more girl than woman. They'd ridden horses together, caused havoc together. On more than one occasion he'd been tasked with looking after her, making sure the Duke's daughter did not find herself in trouble.

And now, he was the Duke and she was his prisoner.

As one of the dogs broke off from Olive to bark happily around Erwin's feet, the Duke nodded stiffly to her, the first time he'd done so in years. "Lady Carwick," he said with a stony voice, giving her at least the respect her family name garnered her. Then, he turned to one of his Keep guards and ordered, "Take them down to the cells, and have them thoroughly questioned."

He would get to the bottom of this later, but first he had to find out about Valence, and Calent's treachery.

[kleineklementine]

"But m'lord!" Bairn quickly objected, forgetting for the moment his station and that he had no place questioning a duke. "But m'lord you can't..."

A threatening gesture from the bayonet silenced him. Olive caught his eyes. Did her best to communicate with her own that it was fine. As much as her heart leapt to see him, she didn't want to cause him trouble on her behalf. There'd been enough of that. So Bairn slunk back, watching with a troubled expression.

Olive's eyes returned to the new duke. Duke Therrien. Duke Erwin Therrien. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. When she'd heard the soldiers say 'Duke Therrien' she'd assumed it was the elder Therrien. If it were Erwin, that would mean Marsden was dead. Inwardly, she sighed. She'd been close to the elder Therrien. Once upon a time.

She made no reply to Erwin, though. She couldn't, after all. But her gaze didn't waver from his as he looked her over or when he instructed the guards to take her to the dungeon. Nor did she give any reaction when he'd said to have the prisoners 'thoroughly questioned.' In her experience, that never meant anything pleasant. What it would mean here, she wasn't sure.

Olive went without struggle as the guards pushed her forward towards perhaps the only part of this castle that she didn't know. She only glanced once back at Bairn, wondering what became of his son. There was no chance to ask now, though. Despite the eery feeling of being 'home', if she could still call it that, Olive found the cell to be much like any other. Damp, cold, bare. If anything, it was nicer than the shack she'd repeatedly been shut up in for days at a time in the camps. It was the punishment given to her whenever she spoke out; anyone else was beaten. When they pushed her in and left her gagged, Olive wondered if all the Mordecai had left the Keep, or if they just hadn't seen fit to remove it. She slumped against the wall, letting out a long, slow exhale through the dirty gag. This felt familiar, if not in the same way as the rest of the Keep.

The gag finally was removed when two guards came to question her. They were both younger; they'd been in the war, but had been left too wounded to serve in the active army, but were still fit enough to serve as guards. Neither of them had any love for mages. And neither were willing to believe that the dirty-looking mage in front of them was really a noble lady. Olive, though, had experience in holding her tongue. She'd been left with a few fresh bruises from the guards, one bright red and purple across the side of her face, but she hadn't answered any of their questions. She hadn't said anything at all.

Now, Olive was sure, it was only a matter of time before she was hung or - worse yet - sent back to the mage camps. She didn't plan on cooperating with either. After they left, she sat in the cold, damp ground of the cell, wiped blood from her lip, retied her long, dirty hair into a bun, and waited.


Above, in the Duke's study, one of the higher ranking guards gave a nervous report to the Duke. "The man's told us quite a bit, m'lord," he informed Erwin. "Though I'm not sure how much of his story makes sense. Or how reliable it all is. A nasty man. But I am happy to give you a summary." He paused, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "The girl, er, Lady-, er..." he stumbled over how to refer to the girl in the dungeon. "She won't talk."

[Cambie]

Several hours went by like a blur, and Erwin was shocked to find, upon looking up, that daylight had stopped streaming in through one of the windows. Since the news first trickled into the Keep, his entire staff had predictably been thrown into a state of chaos. Envoys had to be sent out in all directions, especially in the direction of Connlaoth's capital. More importantly, the reserve forces still left in the duchy had to be mustered to aid the sacked border town -- and to make sure that Krah's army did not set foot in the duchy again.

And, of course, word had to be sent to the Wulfbauer army entrenched with the Grand Duke's combined forces. If it came down to it, the order was simple: return home.

When the senior guard gave his report to Erwin, the Duke frowned and exhaled softly. Somewhere in his mind he knew that his men would include violence in their interrogation tools. After all, Carwick or not, she was still a mage and tensions against them still remained at an all-time high. Perhaps he hoped that it would all go unnoticed if he simply ignored it.

That wasn't the case, and he felt a slight knot in the pit of his stomach at the thought of them laying a hand on her. Being a Duke had hardened him to the realities of life and war, but it hadn't hardened him that much. At least not to the point where seeing a woman with a bruised eye and a bloodied lip wouldn't make his blood curdle. A noblewoman, at that.

"I want to know everything he knows," he commanded to the guard as he went back to poring over his maps. "And have the girl brought up here. I'll speak to her myself."

[kleineklementine]

"The man claims that he was part of a legion under the command of Krah Mordeth. They were on detachment in Hellvion when a Templar came upon them. The Templar was in pursuit of a renegade mage. The man thought it might have been related to," he coughed, "the recent events in Hellvion. At the Duchess's ball. But he didn't speak to the Templar directly. The legion was ordered by their commander to join the pursuit of the mage. They tracked her - he sounded quite chagrined that it was a her, so I don't think he thought the mage was anyone, ah, in particular - to the village of Valance, which according to him had been taken hostage by the mage. The legion tried to liberate the village from the mage's, er, 'clutches,' but when they had her cornered she conjured up great and terrible magics that destroyed the town and scattered Krah's forces."

The man frowned deeply. "It is in conflict with what the soldiers were told when they arrived in the village. By the villagers, I mean. He explains that by saying that the mage enchanted the village into believing that she was the dead Lady Carwick. I suppose it isn't outside of a mage's powers... We may be able to still get more information from him. He's spoken very freely so far. Harder to get him to shut up."

The guard cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably again. He had, unfortunately, more bad news to deliver. Though of, perhaps, a lower caliber. "There have also been some, ah, troubles with the staff, m'lord. The stablehand Bairn, the one who was there when the prisoners arrived, has, ah... Word has circulated amongst the staff that the Lady Carwick is being held in the dungeon, if that's really who she is. The staff that served here under Duke Carwick are, ah, rather unhappy about it. Including, I'm embarrassed to say, some of the guards. They're threatening to strike if she's left there." He frowned again, shifted again. "We'll take care of it, of course, m'lord," he assured Erwin hastily, "but I wanted to make sure you knew. You can't blame them, m'lord. Loyalty to a family, it's not a bad trait. Misplaced, in this case, perhaps. We'll sort it out." He coughed again, shifted again, then said hurriedly, "Yes, well, I'll bring the girl up. You don't really think she's...? Well, no, I won't... I'll fetch her for you now."

________

The guard returned a few minutes later, leading Olive by her still-bound arms. He glanced nervously, doubtfully at her. Perhaps thinking of what it would mean, if she was Constance Carwick... but surely she couldn't be. The thought that his men had manhandled a young noble lady was too much for the old guard. So naturally she couldn't be a young noble lady.

Olive, for her part, also looked distracted once she was brought into the study. But not by the guard, or by Erwin; her eyes roamed across the room. She looked like someone seeing ghosts. She felt like a ghost. For a moment, she felt like she was going to be sick. Though she'd known about her father's death, it had been as though... If she couldn't really see it, it was some abstract fact. But this, looking through his study, now Erwin Therrien's study, made it very, very real.

But when the guard led her to a chair and forced her to sit across from Erwin, Olive returned to the present. She looked at Erwin with clear, composed eyes. But they were harder, wilder than they had once been. Lurking somewhere behind the calm, composed exterior, she looked as much like a trapped, wild creature as she did a noble lady.

[Cambie]

Krah Mordeth.

That would have explained the Grand Duke's banners. The so-called God of War was known to be Calent's lap dog, or as much a lap dog as one could buy with money. Every military man in Connlaoth (and perhaps any man in general) knew of the sellsword's penchant for money and women, and for selling himself to the highest bidder. Erwin had no doubt that he would slit Calent's throat the moment a richer patron knocked on his door and offered him a sack of coin.

But that did not change the fact that Valance was now a burnt hole in the snow. He'd heard of Krah's penchant for wanton violence against innocence, but to be bathing in blood under the Grand Duke's name? A man who had Wulfbauer's military support in his quest for normalcy and the country's unification? And against a loyal ally's own land? The very thought of it made the Duke's blood boil. Mage involvement or not, Krah had to answer for his crimes against Wulfbauer. And if the Grand Duke refused to serve justice on his rabid animal, then was he truly qualified to run the country?

Which brought him to the mage. Waving the guard out of the room, Erwin stood silently behind the study's large table as he looked the girl over. Still dirty and unkempt, and sporting a bloodied lip (which made him frown even further). She sat there with a straight back though, stoic and unrepentantly proud despite the manacles that circled her wrists. He had to admire that about little Constance Carwick, for she'd had to grow up much too fast.

"I apologize for any mistreatment at the hands of my guard," he said evenly, though he perhaps put a little emphasis on the word 'my.' After all, though she came from a long and respected lineage, she had to understand that he was the Duke now. Of course, her familiarity with the staff might breed some resentment against the new lineage, and so he had to tread carefully with her. "But I will not apologize for wanting every scrap of information I can get about Valance. What happened, and why."

He poured himself another cup of tea then, after a moment's thought, poured a second cup. Walking over to where she was seated, he handed the cup to her before continuing. "Tell me the truth about Valance. I already know you're a mage. Everybody knows it."

[kleineklementine]

For a moment, Olive just stared at him. ’I already know you’re a mage. Everybody knows it.’ No shit, she wanted to say, she’d been wearing the Mark since she was ten. It had never been a secret that Olive was a mage. It never could have been. She managed to keep her mouth shut on that note, though. His emphasis on the word ‘my’ wasn’t missed, either. But it didn’t really strike any resentment in her. Being here made Olive sad, perhaps, but she was under no illusions about who was in control here.

Her eyes shifted to the tea he’d placed in her hands. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of something warm to drink. She hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since the chaos in Valance, and the cold of the dungeons hadn’t left her, but she decided against it. Carefully, moving the cup awkwardly with her shackled hands, she set the cup down on the table.

Now it was Olive’s turn to look over Erwin. She had known him when she was a girl, that was true. But she knew little of what kind of man he’d become.

Finally, after what felt like a long silence, she asked, her tone level, open, undefiant, “What do you want to know?”

[Cambie]

He folded his hands across his chest and leaned against the edge of the table, regarding her mannerisms. She had the same petulance and defiance that she'd had when he knew her as a child, though perhaps back then her antics had grated his nerves as only one child could frustrate another. This was different. Her defiance stemmed from a different source now: the magic in her veins that made every day a struggle.

Perhaps he felt sympathetic to her plight, the the plight of all mages in Connlaoth. They didn't scare him, not in the least bit. To him, given the proper incentive, they could add to the pool of skilled hands and laborers and help build this duchy. Of course that sentiment was not shared by the general public, especially under the new Grand Duke's rule. Erwin still did not understand the logic of wasting precious resources sending mages north to work camps, when they could have helped fight the winter here at home.

Home.

That thought snapped him back to reality and he turned his steely gaze on her. First order of business was to sort out this debacle with Valance. He dreaded the answers she might give him, but if what his soldiers said was true, then Calent had betrayed Wulfbauer.

"Tell me about Valance, about what happened there. I want to know about Krah's involvement, and I want to know about your involvement."

[kleineklementine]

Olilve held Erwin’s gaze, then gave the very slightest nod of her head. She let out a long, quiet exhale. Above everything else at this moment, she felt tired. Tired from the ordeal of the fallout from the ball. Tired of being chased, of struggling, of constantly worrying about what was going to happen to her next. Tired of the war.

And the events in Valance had shaken her resolve. Since she’d left the camps, she’d felt so certain. Not all the time, not every moment. But underneath her actions, she’d always felt that the fight was the right thing. She still did, didn’t she? But when she thought about it now, she didn’t see the brutal images from the camps that filled her with righteous anger. She saw the devastation of Valance.

Her eyes glanced out the window. “I don’t know what Krah’s involvement was,” she answered, starting slowly into her narrative. Olive still wasn’t sure why Erwin was asking, and she was uncertain of how detailed she should be. She would, however, be truthful. If nothing else, Erwin Therrien was Duke of Wulfbauer. Her home. She would answer his questions truthfully. She continued in a steady, matter-of-fact tone. “I didn’t know that Krah was pursuing me. I was being chased by a Templar. That’s what I thought. My horse went lame and I took to foot. I aimed to go around the town, but a man - Granger Keil, he used to be a guard here, when I was a girl - found me and recognized me. I denied it, but he was certain. He insisted on hiding me.”

She paused here, frowning. Again her eyes left Erwin and shifted downward. She was wishing bitterly, again, that she hadn’t agreed to go with the man. And some of the emotion showed on her face. But she forced herself to continue in the same manner, trying not to make excuses for herself.

“In the end, I agreed. I thought if I could hide for a day, recoup, the Templar would follow on another trail. I didn’t know that Krah had joined him. I never would have stopped if I had.” There she was, making excuses for herself. Again she frowned. “When his forces were sighted, the women and children were sent to hide in the forest, out of the village. The men,” something made her pause here - they hadn't been men, they were boys and old men and criples, none fit to fight, “stayed behind to defend their homes. But they were outnumbered. Krah’s forces would have slaughtered them. I don’t- I don’t condone the use of magic, but.” Olive stopped again, her face tensing. “I never learned how to use my magic, or control it. But I can, when the situation is dire, I can use it. As Krah’s forces were entering the borders of the town, I created a storm to prevent the men from being able to fight properly.” She swallowed, but she wouldn’t look down. However clear the conflict she felt was, she wouldn’t look ashamed now. But she did look heavy, tired, and sad. “I couldn’t control it. Krah’s men were dispersed, but the town-”

Now Olive did look away, biting her lip. After a moment, she let out another long breath, and turned back to Erwin.

“The town was my doing. I couldn’t control what I started. What Krah’s men didn’t burn, my magic destroyed. I’m responsible for that.”

It was, perhaps, a stripped down version of what happened. But it was true. It was more than Olive had originally intended to tell Erwin, but once she had started, she couldn’t stop her tongue. She’d held her tongue until she was beaten unconscious before. But somehow she didn’t have the capacity now. Maybe it was because Erwin was only asking after her involvement. For once, she had no one else to protect.

[Cambie]

Erwin, for what it was worth, listened silently and attentively to her story as she relayed it, his facial expression not changing much even with each new twist in the narrative. When she finished and sagged her shoulders, the silence enveloped the room, broken only by the gentle crackle of logs in the study's large hearth.

So Krah had willingly attacked the village in order to find this girl. He could see why: her worth as a mage prisoner was beyond immeasurable. Having the daughter of a former Duke paraded around in a mage camp would have done much to destroy the confidence of other mages still at large. How could they hope for any chance when even one with as much influence as Constance Carwick received no respite?

It also proved to him two other things. First, Calent was beyond mad. To let his dog loose like that, and to murder innocent villagers for the singular purpose of rooting out one mage? Erwin could hardly believe it. And even if the Grand Duke did not authorize Krah's rampage, he should have known that would have happened, and that made him accountable.

The second thing was that Olive was also directly responsible for the destruction of Valance. Which means that, despite her good intentions, she also had to be held accountable. No easy task considering how much controversy she'd already stirred up simply by setting foot back in Wulfbauer Keep.

With a sigh of frustration, Erwin closed his eyes and fumbled for his cup of tea, taking a long sip of the hot soothing drink. "Krah must be brought to justice. I'll be damned if I see him set foot in this duchy again and not in chains."

And you too...

[kleineklementine]

It was just as well that Olive couldn't read his thoughts, or that Erwin hadn't said anything aloud about the relative value of sending Olive to the camps 'to be paraded around.' Because Olive had been sent to the camps. More than five years ago. The time since Constance Carwick could receive any 'respite' on virtue of her name or title or father had long since passed.

But instead Olive wondered what would happen to her? Because that was, in fact, her greatest fear. Going back there... She wouldn't. Somewhere in the chaos of Hellvion or Valance, she'd lost the hidden poison that would ensure she would never go to the camps. That would lull her instead to sleep as it stopped her heart. But even without it, this time Olive wouldn't go. Whatever she had to do. She felt it as strongly, and instinctually as one would flee a burning building.

Olive watched Erwin carefully. She wanted to speak out for herself. Explain how dire the situation had been. That if she'd done nothing it wouldn't just be a town that was destroyed, that the people would have all been slaughtered. All of them. Surely Erwin knew Krah's reputation as well, or better, than Olive did. But if she'd never been there, perhaps the people would have been spared entirely. If they'd still come into Krah's path... maybe not.

But how would she explain that? How could she communicate to someone who had an army, a duchy, at his disposal just why she had agreed to step foot in the village in the first place? What it was like to be alone, with no options, no one to turn to. Even in the army, even in combat, the men weren't alone. What it was like to be hunted by people who would certainly kill you - or worse - not just that day, but every day? It was easy to think loftily, from a seat of safety, that Olive never should have accepted the help of the villagers. That she should have accepted that she was the one the Templar wanted, and that either she should escape him on her own or face the consequences. Even for her, it was easy to think that now, but in the moment...

She said none of that, though. Erwin hadn't asked her any further questions, so she didn't speak. Olive only waited, and silently prayed that, when the Duke of Wulfbauer made a decision on her fate, he'd hang her here rather than turn her over to be returned to the north.

((A long post, in which nothing happens! Oops.))

[Cambie]

Erwin set his tea down and stared off at nothing in particular, mulling over his options. The obvious option was to hang her here and now, for her involvement with the destruction of Valance. Perhaps she had been doing what she thought was best, and perhaps she'd saved more lives than harmed. But the laws of Wulfbauer had to be respected.

Except that everything had changed. The moment he hanged her, the castle (indeed, the entire duchy) would be in an uproar. Mage or not, the Carwick lineage meant something to the populace and for this new upstart Duke to essentially eradicate what was left of his predecessors would not sit all too well with his citizens. And at the end of the day... weren't they the reason for his dukeship? His duty was to them.

Then there was the option of having her shipped back up to the camps, but what was the point in that? To appease Calent and the mage-hating nobility siding with him? As far as he was concerned, until either the Grand Duke or Krah himself answered for crimes against Wulfbauer, he would not acquiesce to either. If they wanted to exact their own justice on Constance, then he wanted his own justice.

Which left the only one option for him right now: keep her alive.

"If you were in my position, what would you have me do with you?" he asked her calmly, trying to gauge her opinion. He didn't expect her to beg for her life, but perhaps she could be reasonable in deciding her own fate.

[kleineklementine]

Olive hadn't expected to have the decision of her fate foist back upon her. In truth, she didn’t think that the destruction of the town was itself a crime, though it was what she regretted most. Any battle wrought devastation, and rarely were the people acting in defense held accountable, legally, for protecting themselves or others. But the act of her defense, now that was a crime. Magic use, to whatever end, was always a crime. If it killed or saved, it didn’t matter. And perhaps the biggest crime, in the eyes of the law, was one Erwin had perhaps not considered yet. The fact that she was here at all. Constance Carwick was an escapee. She should be in the mage camps now. And there was only one way out of the camps. Through uprising.

Her gaze shifted sideways, down to a dark knot in the grain of the hardwood floor. His question, at least, she gave serious consideration. She thought for several silent moments. Not trying to decide what she thought was right, or what she thought was just, but what she would do. If she were him. In his position.

“If I were in your position,” she started - she spoke slowly, deliberately, still looking at the knot in the wood, “I would hang me. Or, however you like to do it. The method wouldn't really matter. Quietly, without any public display. Then I would disavow any rumors that the mage brought here was Constance Carwick. Not very many people saw me, after all. That way you would avoid releasing a mage,” she would not call herself a criminal, “which would reflect badly on you and on Wulfbauer and might stoke the ire of other duchies, or of Calent. And you, personally, Duke Therrien, would avoid bearing the responsibility of ending the line that preceded you, if it were publicly known who I was. Which might cause further unrest at home, and would be no better for Wulfbauer than it would be for you.”

Provided, of course, that Erwin Therrien was good for Wulfbauer. She glanced back at him, wondering.

[Cambie]

"You've been here half a day, Constance, and the entire castle already knows your identity," Erwin said with another soft sigh as he pushed off from his table. Stepping to the hearth, he stared into its crackling flames pensively.

"Hang you or not, I doubt even I'll be able to quash that rumor. You know what sort of reaction your family name brings about? No, you're more useful to the duchy alive at the moment."

He turned.

"You'll remain a prisoner for now, at least until I can sort out this business with Krah and the Grand Duke. I'm more concerned about a repeat of Valance than I am with executing or exiling a single mage."

Was it the right thing to do? It was his decision in the end, but he hadn't held this dukeship long enough to know what the consequences of it might be. Perhaps his utter shock at how the God of War could be allowed to ravage his countryside and not have justice served upon him clouded his judgment.

"Welcome home."

[kleineklementine]

Olive couldn’t hide her reaction to his choice of words. A mix of hurt and surprise, and perhaps anger. ’Welcome home.’ It felt like a slap in the face. Or, more accurately, a punch in the stomach. Was he taunting her?

But she swallowed it, recomposed herself, and nodded in acceptance of his decision. At least, she thought, in the dungeon she'd be safer than she'd been for a long, long time. At least she could stop running for awhile. For however long it suited the duke, that was. Though she was left wondering… Did half the castle really know she was here? How could they? She thought of Bairn’s reaction to seeing her. Olive had never really considered, before that, that anyone might be happy to see her again. Not anyone from this life.

After a moment, she asked, “Can I ask a favor, Duke Therrien?”

[Cambie]

Erwin had stepped back to the table and once again had his arms folded across his chest. Nobody had told him that being a Duke would be so difficult. Then again, nobody had the need to.

He looked up. "That depends on the favor."

[kleineklementine]

"My dowry should still exist," she started, betting that even if her parents had thought she'd died - or especially if they had - they would have kept the dowry of their only child set aside. "I'd like that to be used to rebuild Valance. I know it won't make supplies less scarce after the winter. But that way you won't have to redirect general funds from the duchy."

After all, it wasn't like she'd need it. And the guilt she felt for the town was plain on her face.

[Cambie]

Erwin fell silent as he gazed across at her, listening to her heartfelt words. It really was hard not to be sympathetic of her situation, considering how difficult her life must have been these last years. He couldn't even begin to imagine the horror she had to endure at the mage camps. And though her use of magic was perhaps ill-conceived, he could see the remorse in her eyes.

He nodded once. "I'll see that it is done."

Standing, he began maneuvering toward the closed door, where presumably a handful of guards stood on the other side, waiting for their Duke's order. Before throwing the doors open though, he paused and looked over his shoulder back at her.

"I suppose I should at least offer you the chance to bathe and have a hot meal."

More than any prisoner deserved, really. But she was no ordinary prisoner.