It was as expected. Her father had only left a couple of weeks after she did to find her, but the reason he did in the first place was what concerned Irene.
"Grandmother knew I was going to be in danger?" she asked in disbelief.
"Half asleep, she would constantly say that you were," Arthur explained. "It ate at me enough that I decided to follow you here. Never would I have imagined that you would be facing a wyrm of all things."
At that, Irene looked a bit unsettled. Since magic was something in existence, why shouldn’t her grandmother’s foresight? Was that part of being a Volna?
However, there was also something else that bothered her.
"Wyrms can give curses?" she asked. "Does that mean I still have it?"
"Yes," her father explained. "Unlike their close relative counterparts, they have a unique trait of being able to give curses to their prey because of the high amount of mana they possess. However, none of us knew that there was a wyrm in that village. We all thought it was cursed, but were unaware of how. It must have been dormant for nearly a hundred years, for none of us to know about this."
"But you said you cut it in half," Irene persisted. "Perhaps it was enough to stop it." Newest update provided by NoveI(F)ire.net
Her eyes searched his face desperately for a positive response. She didn’t want to leave a horrible creature behind that could bring harm to others.
"With mana comes surprising traits that could allow such a thing to survive," Arthur continued. "I’m unwilling to risk you further. You were already in far more danger than you could ever imagine. For now, we must wait a couple of days for your fingers to heal, then we will leave this place with what you came here for in the first place."
Irene felt a bit incomplete with this answer, but she knew he was the one being logical. She couldn’t imagine how she must have looked sitting there, defenseless and waiting for her fate. How irritating that magic could cause her to be so idiotic.
Another side to this was that she felt that each time something happened, it was someone else saving her rather than her saving the situation. This unrest within her caused her to want to push herself to become a better knight. When she returned, she would dedicate all of her time to the order. Whatever Chemois needed, she was going to be that and then some.
Admittedly, she also missed her life as a knight. She was only just delving into it before she had to leave again.
"That sounds like a good idea," she finally relented, even though the answer came a while after her father said what they ought to do. "Then I suppose I should be happy I will have company on the journey back. While Sammy listens to my ramblings, it gets a bit tiring never having a response."
She offered a smile, hoping that her disappointment in herself and the situation wasn’t evident. She truly was happy that her father was there to keep her company. She knew she could do the journey alone—that wasn’t something she needed to prove to herself any longer.
"Did you journal as I told you to?" he asked.
"Perhaps a bit too much," she admitted. "Filled a whole book and had to steal one from a chest in the township so that I would have more pages to write on. It has helped me get better attuned to the language as well. I try to write at least one sentence in Sunstoian per day."
"Very good," Arthur complimented. "Your grandmother will be very happy."
That in itself brought up another question, and the mood took a bit of a turn.
"How is she doing?" she asked, her face giving off an expression of hope that Arthur felt he couldn’t shatter.
Arthur observed his daughter. There was a time he would say words he wanted her to hear because he thought she didn’t need to know about the bad things in life. However, he also saw a woman looking back at him, and he knew that she had grown up so much.
She had plenty of worries in her life and things she likely stressed about that even he didn’t know the half of. That was the hardest part about watching your kids grow: not being able to take away their burdens because they become burdens outside the home.
After everything, she deserved to be talked to like the woman she was, rather than a little girl, because reality would hit her hard if he lied to her and said her grandmother was fine.
The former knight sat down at the edge of his bed, across the hearth from where Irene sat on her bed. He laced his fingers together as his elbows rested on his knees.
"I would say her physical state is worse merely because she can’t move around like she did. It’s hard to see the strength she worked a lifetime for disappear as her arms become frail," he admitted. "I even had the town healer come out and make sure there wasn’t anything more I could be doing. She refuses to eat a healer’s herbs, saying she has her own. However, I’m more worried about the state of her mind. I almost didn’t listen to her warnings that you weren’t doing well because she says a lot of things that I can’t make sense of, particularly when she’s going to sleep for the evening."
Irene took in his words silently, nodding slowly as each blow was dealt. It was very clear by now that she wasn’t going to last much longer, but...
"I just hope she lasts until we get back, that’s all," Irene explained. "I want her to know that what she worked her life for didn’t disappear with her. I will do my best to study the materials and practice the teachings that are in all the books I have found."
"You’ve grown up so much," Arthur complimented, his voice strained as emotion strangled his throat. "How amazing to honor her life in such a way. She always hoped I would have a daughter since my brother only had sons, and now I understand why."
Even though there was still sadness in her eyes, Irene smiled at that. She hoped that she or her brother had daughters as well. An even more unlikely thought was the hope that there would be more Sunsto people out there still sailing around. Would she find them one day? Perhaps things were less bleak, and there were more people like them than they realized.
After their conversation, there were a couple more days of coziness where Arthur and Irene stayed indoors and merely read the books on the shelves in her grandmother’s place. It was a preferred way to gain back their energy before they had to face the outdoors and snow that still covered the world.
What they could both look forward to, however, was the fact that in Chemois spring would be starting and, from the north where they came from, they wouldn’t have to cross floodplains. Their trip should go on without a hitch.
Before the two of them could leave the village for good, they brought their horses to the place in the center of the village where they protected the dead. Even though the stones had been moved south by Arthur, he still remembered where each person was buried. He needed to pay respects to his old man and explain that Kara would soon be following.
As Irene watched her father looking fondly over where his father’s body lay, she hoped that she could wear such a peaceful expression in the face of death. He truly was Sunstoian through and through, believing that the afterlife was guaranteed and having no qualms about leaving their physical being behind.
It was still so hard for her to face. Even in the journal she had, she would address Leif occasionally. She still couldn’t accept the deaths of those so young. It wasn’t just Leif but the maids, squires, and other apprentices who passed.
That was one thing she would need to learn as a Volna if she truly wanted to guide others forward and pass on the knowledge.
The two grabbed more supplies and left the village, knowing they would have to sleep out in the cold that night. Just as before, they made it to the largest township at the same pace as Irene had the first time.
Just like the first time as well, they stayed in the longhouse, where her father could explain to her all the things she didn’t know before.
The most alarming one presented itself early.
As they brought their horses in and Irene went to shut the door, her father stopped her.
"Wait," he said. "Let me get tallow first."
She was lost as to what he meant but she allowed him to do as he needed.
On a shelf just next to the doorway, there was a brass pot that she thought was only decoration, but arthur soon pulled out a brush and began spreading it along the top, sides, and bottom of the door.
At his daughter’s confused expression he explained, "So the door doesn’t freeze shut while we’re here."
Her eyes widened. She had a much different method for freeing herself from a frozen shut door and her guilty expression said as much. She then showed her father the axe marks along the bottom of the door that were evidence of her escape the last time.