Heroes of Veritas: Bardic Inspiration (Book 2)

Chapter Fourteen: Walking the Line

It was well into the morning by the time the party meeting broke up. Though Elise was still feeling tender - and probably would be for some time - the time spent in close company with people she loved, and who loved her, had a soothing effect on her soul. It made her wish she’d come home sooner.

After the meeting she spent some time on the mundanely comforting parts of her job as a guild officer; checking through their stores of supplies, reordering anything they were short of, and doing some basic synthesis at the town crafting hall. Once her responsibilities were taken care of, she went to the stable to check on Hissabelle. Despite knowing that she had a budget meeting coming up soon, the troubadour couldn’t resist taking the big cat out for a rip.

It was refreshing to get out of the guild hall, and out of the town, even if only for a short while. It made her reconsider staying in Pita’s room; at least for the night. She really ought to visit her mother and Jorgen, anyway.

Though she was happy to get away from the guild hall, this jaunt wasn’t entirely devoid of work. She took Hissabelle for a circuit of the area around the town, surveying the various empty fields that the guild had to work with. She finally reached the area she was looking for; a plot of land with a small hill that looked out onto the river. As they reached the top of the hill, the big cat slowed and Elise jumped off. The snow that had blanketed the fields the last time she came here had melted away, but the grass beneath her boots was still brown and crunchy with frost.

“Well, girl…I guess we could put the trading post here instead.” she said to Hissabelle as she looked out over the dreary, brown and muddy landscape. 

Right now it didn’t look like much. When spring came in earnest, its charms would become more evident. Even in her melancholy state, the troubadour couldn’t help but smile as she pictured it. Rolling green hills dotted with wild flowers rippling into the distance, the bright line of silvery water meandering through. Maybe there would be a windmill nearby, its fins turning idly in the wind. Docks, boats, a little fishery right on the river. The trading post would be on the river too, maybe on the other side. 

There would also be houses. Cottages with curving thatched roofs and beautiful little gardens with quilts flapping in the wind from their washing lines. In time, maybe there would be stately manors too, mysterious towers, or elaborate tree houses. Elise had no doubt that the town of Pounce would become the city of Pounce, and the members of the Dire Beavers would graduate from poor, trashy murder hobos to wealthy, respectable murder hobos. It was something she both looked forward to and, ever so slightly, mourned. Progress was good. Change was good; but to the troubadour, it seemed the change always came hand in hand with some kind of loss.

The big cat sat next to her, yawning widely, then licked her mouth with a huge pink tongue, looking bored. Elise set a hand on the big cat’s head, scratching behind her ear, and chuckled softly. She knew that the creature couldn’t read her mind exactly, but if Hissabelle knew what she was thinking about Pita would have felt bad for the poor creature. He hated listening to long, rambling visions of the countryside.

Ellie looked up into the sky, grimaced a little when she saw how low the sun had gotten. The troubadour made a clicking sound with her tongue, causing the big cat to stand back up and shake herself off.

“Come on, Hisswiss. Let’s get back before we no longer qualify as fashionably late.”

When the wind-tousled troubadour swept into the commander’s office, he gave her a sour look. She was nearly half an hour late for their meeting, and didn’t look the least bit bothered by it. Elise unclasped the half cape that was draped around her shoulders, disappeared it into her storage device, and took a seat in the chair in front of the commander’s desk.

“So, did you have a chance to look over my proposal?” the troubadour asked without preamble.

He was sitting at his heavy mahogany desk, the sheaf of papers that she’d assembled for their meeting spread out in front of him. Even though he was rather irritated by her lack of punctuality, her work was...well, it was impeccable. If she’d showed up on time, there would have been a lot of her awkwardly sitting there while he read, but he doubted that she came late for that reason. 

No, she obviously walked in late as she had because she was pissed. This was an immature way of getting back at him - and for something he had literally no control over. He knew that Moltar wanted him to ‘figure s**t out’ with her, but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He’d known too many women like that; women who liked to play games - and not the fun kind. If there was one thing Ian hated more than anything else, it was playing games.

“You’re late.” Ian said, his voice a low, flat rumble.

Elise blinked at him, her round guileless face and surprised expression not fooling him for one second.

After the momentary shock passed, Elise’s lips pressed into a thin, flat line. 

She was late, yes. She would have been on time, or nearly on time, if she hadn't gotten stopped by Brida - who had had a bit of an emergency during the lunch preparations. She’d made her way upstairs as soon as she could. Astredian would have known that Ellie was rarely late. He’d always known what being an officer was like, and how you’re constantly being pulled in all directions, and he never would have made her explain herself. 

But, this was not Astredian, was it? Ian didn’t really know her; what he did know of her, he clearly didn’t care for. The last message she’d ever sent him back in the old world was basically the equivalent of telling him to lose her number, so she supposed that was fair.

Instead of letting her flashpan temper rule her, Elise took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sorry, commander. I’ll do my best not to let it happen again. I see that you value punctuality.”

It was Ian’s turn to look surprised. His shoulders relaxed a little, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to the sheaf of papers. He’d been expecting her to throw a fit like she had earlier that morning when she shouted at Moltar. That in itself had been odd, though; the way Moltar just let her do it. Moltar usually liked being the one shouting, not the other way around.

Ian still didn’t understand the relationship between his vice-commander and the troubadour, but it was obviously very different from what it had been in their past life. There was some kind of respect there; maybe it had something to do with Pita. Ellie had been close with the druid, hadn’t she? 

“I have some suggestions, but otherwise...you did a brilliant job.” he finally said. 

To both of their great relief, the meeting progressed normally from there. Their conversation was awkward at first, but they soon found their rhythm. The commander was pleased to find that his officer had an easy, straight forward way of speaking to match her unexpectedly sharp mind. He didn’t think he’d ever actually heard her speak this much in their old life, as she’d always been on the fringes of the guild. She pointed out interesting details and made terrible puns that caused him to chortle more than once. He still wasn’t entirely convinced of her importance to the guild, and though Moltar had told him to charm her, Ian couldn’t help but feel like he might be the one getting charmed. That feeling made him uneasy.

Elise was doing her best to treat Ian as she had always treated Astredian, though without the usual teasing or flirting. It was hard; he looked like Astredian, he sounded like Astredian, and yet...he wasn’t.

Or was he? Elise had always thought of herself and the Elise of Veritasia City as two different people. That viewpoint had shifted the more she ‘remembered’ her life as the Elise that existed in this world prior to her arrival, and now she wasn’t so sure. Even so, she and Ian were not the same - and he was at a much different place than she was. He’d only just arrived. It was unfair to form expectations of Ian based on his other self, wasn’t it?

Ian eventually came around to her side of the desk so he could point out something on one of the papers she had in front of her. He leaned over her shoulder, his chest brushing the back of her shoulder as he did. His closeness, and the familiar musky smell of cedar soap mixed with sweat, made Elise’s chest set to aching again. She looked up at him, and swallowed when she saw that he was looking back down at her with his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that she’d gotten lost in so many times. Eyes that had been staring hungrily at her just that morning, even though he had no idea who she was at the time. Wait...was he looking at her the same way now?

The troubadour jumped a little when a knock on the study door interrupted them, and mentally thanked the Goddess for providing such a timely distraction.