05. Astrid

[katzepaw]

(From 1:39:39 to 2:03:35)

Caleb follows the instructions of a letter through the streets of the capital city of Rexxentrum, through the upscale Shimmer Ward, to an address 31 Wodestone Manor, which leads him to a respectable manor house on an expansive property with a number of other abodes across its sneaking grasses and fences. They all sit in the shadow of one of the ominous tall towers of the Candles, the towers where the wizards of the Cerberus Assembly reside. All of the manors in this area encircle a tower Caleb is very familiar with, the one belonging to Trent Ikithon. The manor is nice, far less ominous, built from bleached pale wood and dark window frames, one and a half stories tall.

The sun is beginning to go down and evening is falling, lanterns in the district are lit, and the lights are on in the manor as well. Caleb stands outside on a street corner for ten minutes, staring up at the tower and then back at the lit windows, working up the courage to approach. Finally, he knocks the iron knocker on the door.

A few moments later, a male halfling in a suit answers the door.

“I’m here to see the lady of the house,” says Caleb. “My name is Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

The halfling goes to check on this, and then returns, inviting him in to wait in the guest holding chamber. This is a minimalistic room; not bare, just simple, everything particularly placed and spacious but well-appointed. Caleb sits on a couch in the waiting room, stock still, frozen and a little terrified. He can feel his heart beating through his whole body, his entire chest hot and swelling with nerves curling in his stomach. And he hears footsteps approach.

In the archway that leads into the hosting chamber, the figure of a human woman steps in and raises a hand, and the low candle light in the room brightens. She is in her mid 30s, short blonde hair. It is a very familiar face, but much older than Caleb remembers, with a hard look in her eyes, and a heavy scar that rides from the top of her brow to the bottom of her chin. She smiles.

Caleb gets to his feet.

She seems caught off guard a little, despite her smile, something obviously frail behind it, but something a little eager, too. “It has been some time.” She pauses. “I was not expecting. . . you.” Another breath. “Bren.”

Caleb switches to speaking in Zemnian, more comfortable. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I’ve been imagining and dreading this moment for longer than I care to admit,” Caleb admits softly.

“Hmm,” she says, a little uncertain, or perhaps disappointed. “I’m sorry dread was a word, but. . . I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Caleb is quiet for a moment, just looking at her, and then sighs, and in a rush, “There’s so many things that I - “

She holds out a hand. “Sit.” She steps across the room to sit on the opposite couch, sits, and rolls her sleeves up on her blouse. On her forearms are black, maze-like tattoos. She crosses her hands across her knee and sits across from him.

“Uhm - “ Caleb starts, shakes his head, struggles to continue. “So much. . . what happened?”

She looks back at him, curious. “A lot of things have happened, Bren. Where would you like me to begin?”

He swallows, gathering his thoughts, and then softly admits, “the last thing I remember is. . . my home.”

Astrid sighs, somewhat sad, and seems to look at him with something that he wants to think is remorse, but is perhaps only sympathy. She also seems to be struggling with what to say. “We’re. . . chosen for a reason. From obscurity picked from the rest of the riffraff for something that we can do. And to. . . to seize such a destiny. . . can cause a lot of heartache. And we can do some terrible things.”

Caleb stares at her, utterly bewildered, while she gives this little speech, like she’s speaking another language entirely, rubs his jaw, and then almost seems to laugh a little, though it’s sad. “It’s strange, I find myself wanting to, um.” He stops for a second, chewing on the word. “Apologize. Still. . . so much of me feels like. . . I failed. But. . . a lot has changed. And I know some things now that I didn’t as a boy, and, I am so glad to see you.

She breaths a soft huff of laughter. “I’m glad to see you too, Bren. I mean. . . it’s been well over a decade that. . . And still often I’ve talked about and wondered where you were, if you were okay.”

“How did I - “ he starts, clears his throat, and has to pause, in a cold sweat. “Um. How did I get to the Sanatorium?”

“We took you there,” Astrid admits, uncomfortable. “You had a breaking point and, understandably - “ she chuckles a little - “you began to lash out. Part of that same spark that was seen in you could create a lot of sparks everywhere else.” And she reaches up and scratches her neck, and there are burn scars there. “But for your own good, we took care of you, and we brought you there. But we had to subdue you first. You were too dangerous to us and to yourself.”

Caleb stares at her a little. “I was there a long time.”

“And we’d always hoped that you’d. . . “ she smiles a little. “That you’d improve, and at times you did, and. . . I mean, to be honest, even looking at you now and hearing some of the things that you are doing. . . I mean, you’ve defied all of our expectations. And if you feel like you’ve failed, then know that everyone’s path goes at different paces. You’ve certainly proven now that you are in no way or shape a failure.”

His shoulders hunch a little, and he’s wary, still looking at her like he’s looking at something alien. “What are you doing these days?” he blurts out.

She hesitates to answer. “I’m doing a bit of tutelage. I’m. . . doing what we were meant to do. Which is. . . keep our people safe.”

Caleb looks a little ill at this. “Is it difficult for you?”

“At times,” she admits, with a small smile. “But I take pride in my work. And I’ve stopped some terrible things from happening. And I have seen some of the possibilities - “ her tone changes here, becomes somewhat fiercer and more sincere - “of what can be done. . . with the right application, with the right minds.”

Caleb sighs. “Had you heard that my, uh, friends and I were here?”

“It was rather rapid chatter once Trent had notified us of the return of a lost pup,” she answers, amused.

“You know what the Mighty Nein and I are leaving to do?” he asks.

“I’ve heard, and I’m very curious. It seems. . . “ she laughs a little, lightly. “I mean, it seems so not what I would have expected from you. So much more. I’m impressed, I’m proud.”

Caleb swallows, choosing his words carefully. “When I, um. . . came back to myself, in the Sanatorium, there was a woman. A patient, I, I think. She, um, she healed me?” There’s a tremor in his voice a little. “And this might be hard for me to convince you, but she helped me see things. What we did that night. . . I did fail, but I didn’t fail the empire. I failed myself, and my mother and father.” He takes a breath, and looking into her eyes, says slowly, “He. Lied. To me. I know he lied. And if he would lie to me about that, it is hard for me to understand what he wouldn’t lie about.”

Astrid sighs, reaches out, touches his cheek. “Bren. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The gesture is kind, but Caleb knows her very well, and can see clearly now that it isn’t remorse. She’s sorry for his pain, for his suffering, but considers it the same suffering she endured, the same suffering many people endured, and it doesn’t hold the meaning to her that it does to him. She doesn’t regret it, doesn’t feel that he should, because sometimes suffering is necessary.

When he’s quiet for a long time, she begins to speak again, explaining like he’s slow to understand. “To be gifted in a world filled with hardship like this is to do things we’re not proud of, and to question the choices we make, and to regret the things we wish we could change. Do I agree with everything that I’ve been asked to do? No. Do I think about it, do I lament? Do I see the faces of the people I’ve watched expire at my own hand? All the time. But I also know the reason that we get to sleep, every night, in a comfortable inn bed or in a manor, as do the many families and children just like we were, just like the families we once had, that don’t have to make the choices we did. They still get to live, happily and comfortably, because the few, the chosen few, made the hard choice, and do what few have the will to do.”

Caleb sighs heavily, filled with dismay and grief, shakes his head like he hates to listen to this. That sense that she’s speaking some alien language is back, because he can remember the version of her from his youth so well, but this. . .

“I, um,” he says softly. “I’m sorry. I will. . . never forget what we were. And. . . even now, all these years later, I can’t shake it, I still. . . care a great deal. . . about you.” He looks back at her face, which is full of pity, and swallows hard. “At least. . . the girl I knew. But. . . he has blinded you.” With a little more venom to his voice, he continues. “You and Wulf, and all of his little helpers. And I mourn our childhood, and our souls.”

She reaches out and puts a hand on his knee, still all sad pity and compassion. “I understand your anger. And as much as he’s been our teacher, he’s not infallible. He’s just an old man with the right connections, who will one day pass like they all do.”

He suddenly feels that he understands her perspective a bit more, now. Her words less alien, he can see her a little more as she was, as he gets at the root of what she really feels, but it only worsens the grief he’s feeling. Pained, he whispers back at her, “you always were ambitious.”

She laughs the comment off a little, light. “So are you, Bren, apparently. Like I said. . . I’m proud of you.”

“Uhm. . . “ his voice is a little choked. “It’s good to see you. I think I’d better go.” He raises his hand and touches the scar on her face, runs his hand down it. “Too many scars.”

She sighs. “I regret none of them,” she says, “except one.”

“Thank you for allowing me into your home,” he says, letting go. “Maybe we will see each other again.”

“You’re welcome any time, Bren,” she says. “I’d like to see more of you.”

“Maybe.” He shifts back to Common again. “We’ll see. My friends are depending on me.”

“Of course,” she agrees easily. “Then you should probably get back to them.”

He looks back at her for a long moment, thinks about staying anyway, and then turns and walks toward the door, with her following behind at a distance to see him out.

“Guten nacht,” he says, and she squeezes his hand, and then lets him go. He turns, and walks back through the city streets, back to his lodgings.