Chapter 15.3

Obviously, actual materialisation was out of the question. A sealed card that should never be used or acknowledged. But imagined materialisation, that technique held extreme potential. In a spar with abilities, both sides were likely to hold back out of fear for the risk to cause unneeded injuries. With this technique, that could be completely different.

Of course that would require a proper understanding. So she recalled the sensation she had felt when he displayed said technique. Her mind began trying out and discarding possible ways to make the technique hers. He had shown the entire build-up, so there must be hints in the process. She could blindly copy, but it was better to properly understand a text when trying to ensure its full potential was obtained. 

"Mo Fhíorghra."

"Huh, what?" She blinked and looked at the others. The sight surprised her. All were looking in her direction, some concerned. Lady Pertrellan was slightly shaking her head in amusement, a sentiment shared by the weapon master straight across from Eirwen.

He smiled at her and spoke with a voice that matched the twinkle in his eyes. "Eirwen, how many times did we call your name before you responded?"

Her cheeks turned slightly crimson as she now properly registered what they had been saying. "Six times..." He raised an eyebrow, not even having to ask his next question. "And that was after you said the technique was dangerous and should be practised only when rested and under supervision." He remained silent, causing her to squirm a little. "And I was about to experiment by myself anyway."

Pertrellan burst out in laughter. In response, all Eirwen could do was blush more. A few counts later, the Vicomtesse managed to calm herself down. "Apologies, your Grace. It's just that it's so easy to forget you're still young. I'm glad the three of you are comfortable enough to tease each other again."

She leaned forward and let her eyes go from one to the other. "And on that note, I truly am sorry. You should never have been in this position. Right now, the three of you should have been slowly developing your skills, while still spending a lot of time with friends. Just like your contemporaries have been able to do. Instead, you were dropped into a long war, forced to carry the fate of thousands. I wish we could have taken that burden off you."

She reached out to Eirwen, putting a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were full of kindness, which she openly revealed, and sorrow which she failed to hide. "So take your time. I hope you can all rebuild your past friendships, so that the next generation can grow past the grudges my generation holds. There's time now, there's peace. Let us help you. We can't go back, but we can at least share your burden."

"My father is going to resign." Aoife threw it out there, as if she felt she had to use the opportunity while she still dared. "I kind of lied this afternoon. He already gave me the reins. The only reason he hasn't made it formal yet, is because he expects Eirwen to order his resignation soon. Doesn't want to sabotage her by doing it himself. So yeah, actually I can train you. I just wasn't ready to admit that yet."

She looked up and smiled at Eirwen, her eyes full of conflicting emotions. "So tomorrow, let's properly train you. If we do that outside the library, we can even let this guy listen in." She motioned at him with her head, but kept her eyes on Eirwen. "The two of you are my friends, and I do not want to regret not teaching you. If a blade comes near you, I need to know you can handle it. Lady Pertrellan is right, let's keep our grudges in the past."

Her eyes moved to Pertrellan. "As for the Verglas knights, I would like to teach them the basics that we teach our own. In turn, please teach ours your own methods. We need to develop our combat potential so that we can stand strong, not divided but united. Let us end the isolation of our parents, so that our generation can ease each other's burdens."

Pertrellan nodded. "I would like that. But I would suggest we don't make too big a splash for now, not until Eirwen has announced her decisions. As they say here in the west, a fire takes time to grow. We need to avoid rushing this." She turned to Eirwen. "If I may ask, your Grace, when will you do so?" A formal question, deliberately addressed differently than their personal conversation from before.

"In three days, on the final day of mourning." She saw the pain in the eyes of Aoife and the weapon master. Ignoring that, she continued. "The nobles that haven't abandoned their positions should all be here by then, as well as limited representation of the abandoned territories. And the people will have gathered for the final ceremony. That will let us reach the most people, to decrease how misinformed people might get due to poorly told gossip."

Her own nodded. And as for the other two, she could understand their hesitation in facing that moment. As much as they were currently talking as if all was normal again, it was a fact that Aodhán was no more, a fact which the official mourning period emphasised. Facing that required facing the fact there was no way back, which was a painful thing to do. But all they could do was rebuild.

She knew that in three days time, they would face far worse a confrontation. Neither Eirwen nor her weapon master had gone outside of the estate, but Eirwen had received plenty of reports. If one added up all the people in the Flameheart capital who either wore a mourning band or white clothing, it likely was more than nine out of every ten. And almost to a man, it was him they mourned so openly, not his father. In three days time, it wouldn't be strange if nary a single person remained at home. Having to face that grief would be far from pleasant.

"Alright, let's put the painful subjects aside for now. As I said before, this will be our last night in a while that we can spend together like this. So let's enjoy it while it lasts. There will be plenty of pain in the future." She raised her glass and they did the same, a quiet toast to cut off the subject.

They took their time with the food and drinks, small talk now mixed with discussing the nearby territories. Pertrellan ended up in a lengthy conversation with Aoife about which nobles had fled and who was filling the gaps there. Eirwen mostly remained silent, only occasionally asking for clarification, while keeping mental notes. On the other side, Caerbychan was discussing training programs with the weapon master, while involving Bethan's knowledge on the right balance of training and healing.

Suddenly, Aoife turned towards the knight. "Hold on, did you just say he kneed you in the face? That's a bit much for training, no?"

Caerbychan shrugged. "He also broke shoulders, ribs, arms, even a few legs. Bethan was getting really annoyed at him over all of that. But her Grace avenged us by breaking his nose in turn."

Aoife immediately turned towards Eirwen. "You did what now? Oh, this I want to see. Any chance you could manifest that?" Eirwen pondered that request, then mentally gave the weapon master an order to provide her with the needed guidance. Soon, she manifested a combination of her senses and own memories, with enough detail that they could see the wince and blood. It seemed like manifestation was more within her province, compared to the extra effort mental conversations took her.

Aoife whistled and asked for a few repeats, then asked for other scenes. At first, she admired the moves and called out the ones she recognised. But as the sword dance was on display, she fell silent, emotions swirling on her face. She broke her silence with a self-loathing laugh. "I'm a bit jealous. You never fought with me like that. All I got was spars where you held back. You injured Eirwen more times in a single evening than you did me during the entirety of the war."

Given how often she had acted as his right hand, that did suggest he had treated Aoife with far more care. Though Eirwen did feel the need to interject. "But with you, he trained you with materialisation, didn't he? How many times did that play a role in your victory? I know you beat several knights where I had expected more of a tie."

Pertrellan and Bethan raised their eyebrows in sync with each other, while the weapon master showed both pride and a bit of embarrassment. Aoife ignored them as she responded. "He provided me guidance five times. I think in three cases it helped me obtain a victory that I wouldn't have obtained otherwise. The other two, it just changed the time and effort needed."

"Impressive, really, even if it cost us a lot of ransom. It still takes significant skill. But yeah, I'm jealous myself as he hasn't provided me with that kind of training. Seems like he's been holding out on both of us."

She smiled slyly as he objected. "Okay, hold on, I can explain for both of you. Don't paint me as a two-timing unreliable partner here."

Bethan chuckled. "Four-timer." Eyes shot towards her and she immediately waved in surrender. "Okay, too soon, fine. He's got a point, though. A physical training fight on the eve of battle is a good way to exhaust your healers. And with you, Eirwen, it's not as if there was a need for him to train you with his mind. Besides, even I could sense when he did that earlier. Anyone nearby would be able to recognise his involvement."

Caerbychan nodded. "Agreed. I've been keeping a close eye on him, to figure out which of his techniques are noticeable at a distance. That one definitely isn't allowed. His constant spying, on the other hand, is pretty much impossible to tell. It costs me immense effort to do so."

Aoife whistled in admiration. "You can tell? Well done. I've fought on his side for years and I still couldn't confirm his presence in the estate. No wonder they made you his handler."

The knight took the compliment in stride, while both Eirwen and Pertrellan took note. They eyed each other, intending to discuss Caerbychan's progress later, then returned to normal conversation and drinking. It was a lovely night, the last one in a while. No point in wasting it.