Heroes of Veritas: Bardic Inspiration (Book 2)

Chapter Fifteen: The Toymaker's Daughter

For a moment, Ian thought he felt Elise shiver when he brushed against her shoulder. The way she bit her bottom lip was adorable, and the faint coconut smell that he could just barely detect from her curly hair was deeply enticing. His nose twitched a little, and he had to resist the sudden urge to bend closer so he could nuzzle her hair.

When she looked up and caught him staring, he thought he was done for. She blushed, her lips parted slightly, and the redness of the lip she’d been chewing practically cried out to him for a kiss. Had a knock not sounded from the door, he probably would have kissed her.

Instead, the knock sent a shock down his spine, which straightened of its own accord. He turned to look at the door, and said, “Come in.”

The door opened, and Hattie walked in with a pair of lunch trays, one in each hand. She looked from the commander to the troubadour, frowning slightly. It seemed the news of their breakup had gotten around.

“Uhm...did you want me to bring your lunch downstairs instead, Ellie?” Hattie asked, avoiding meeting the commander’s eyes. It was clear who she was siding with in this situation, and it wasn’t their illustrious leader - though she didn’t really want to get on his bad side either.

“I’d appreciate that, Hattie. I think we’re about done here anyway. I’m sure the commander needs some time to himself before his next meeting.” Elise said, getting up from the chair she’d been sitting in for the last hour or so.

Hattie smiled when she saw that she hadn’t just interrupted a tense argument, and scooted into the room to set the commander’s tray on his desk. 

“Thank you, Hattie.” Ian said, trying to give the young secretary a warm, charming smile. 

This had the effect he’d been looking for; the small bit of frostiness she’d had toward him melted away, and she gave him the adoring look he was starting to get used to seeing on the faces of women he interacted with.

It was a little creepy, he had to admit, but it was one of his abilities - and he needed to figure out how it worked. Elise apparently thought it was creepy too, as he could see her rolling her eyes from where she now stood on the other side of the room, by the door leading out onto the landing.

“Oh, by the way.” Elise said as Hattie scooted past the troubadour and back down the stairs. “I’m going to be questing and dungeoneering with my party for the next few days. If you need me or Ichigo, he has a communication earring.”

“Communication earring…?” Ian asked, clearly unsure of what she was talking about. They didn’t need communication earrings in their previous life, after all. They had voice chat.

“If you don’t know how to use them yet I’m sure Moltar can show you...though Hattie knows how to use them as well. I’m sure she’d get a kick out of it if you asked her.”

There was a slightly biting tone to that last bit that was not lost on the paladin. Did she think he was flirting with the girl? Men flirting with their secretaries was a pretty common trope.

He lifted an eyebrow and said, “Why don’t you just show me yourself? You’re still here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to give you the idea that I’m good for anything more than crafting,” Elise said, batting her eyes with an exaggerated doe-eyed expression on her face. “I suppose I’m not as busy as you are, it’s fine if my whole schedule revolves around what you need. It’s not like I’m one of the heroes of Veritasia City of anything. Oh wait-”

Elise’s expression shifted to the flat, angry look she’d taken on earlier after he’d called her out for being late. She shook her head and turned away, shutting the door behind her as she left.

Oh, right...he was supposed to do something about that, wasn’t he? s**t.

“Damn you and your stupid mouth,” Elise chided herself, muttering under her breath as she made her way down the stairs. Her flash pan temper had cooled almost as soon as the study door clicked shut behind her, and she just knew that she’d gotten herself in trouble.

She was just irritated because of his insipid use of charm, and she knew it. She could have just shown him how the comm earrings worked; she was the one who made them after all. Why did she have to go picking a fight? Things had been going just fine until then. All he did was smile; it’s not like he was really going to mack on Hattie, anyway...right? Hattie was way too young.

Elise sighed, making her way to the dining hall, which was still crowded with guildies finishing up their afternoon meals. Moltar was there, drinking deeply from a flagon of ale. He looked tired, and Ellie wondered if maybe he’d worn himself out trying to get their new arrival up to speed. She decided to take pity on the oathbreaker when he tipped his flagon back and found it empty, bringing a pitcher over to give him a refill.

“Thanks,” Moltar said as his flagon was filled back up to the brim. He scooted over a bit, making room for the troubadour as she slid onto the bench beside him.

“How are you doing, Moltar?” Elise asked as she poured a flagon of ale for herself as well. Hattie had probably taken her plate into the kitchen, as Elise often liked to eat there while she worked, but today she was in the mood for company.

Ichigo and Mercenades were sitting across from them, but were deeply engrossed in a conversation of their own revolving around the catton cleric’s current book. He often asked the tanky barbarian for ideas when it came to boudoir scenes, as she was far more experienced in such matters than he was.

“Shitty.” Moltar said, honestly.

“I feel that,” Ellie said, nodding in understanding. “I might go to Appleton tonight. Spend the night with my Mom and Jorgen. Are you going to be ok on your own with him?”

They both knew who ‘him’ was without the troubadour having to spell it out.

“Should be fine. He’s catching on quick. Keep your comm earring on you though.” Moltar said, before lifting his flagon up to her. “Cheers for not killing him during your budget meeting. At least, I assume he’s not dead because you aren’t covered in blood.”

“He might not be dead, but he could be suffering from a few nasty burns. You might want to check on him after lunch. I accidentally gave him a bit of a tongue lashing.” Elise said, smiling wryly as she clanked her wooden mug against the oathbreaker’s.

“Accidentally my ass…” Moltar snickered as he brought the tankard up to his lips.

Then they both drank. When the hoppy smell of the ale hit Elise’s nose, she gagged a little. She barely managed to choke down the sip she’d taken. It was bizarre; she thought she’d gotten used to her increased perception… had it improved again somehow? Moltar gave her a questioning look, and she shook her head.

“Tastes funny. Maybe I need to eat first.” Elise said, scrunching her nose up a bit.

Ichigo and Mercenades had paused in their conversation as well, the catton cleric looking a little concerned at the green look on the troubadour’s face as she coughed and rubbed at her throat.

“Are you feeling ill, Elise? Want me to take a look?” Ichigo said, his eyebrows drawn together slightly.

“No, no...I’m sure it’s nothing. I hardly ate anything today.” Elise said, shaking off the sensation of nausea.

Moltar took the troubadour’s abandoned mug, sniffed it,  and shrugged. “More for me.”

She sat with Moltar in companionable silence for some time, people watching, before she finally got up from the table to get something to eat.

That night, Elise locked up the guild hall from the outside. She saddled up her big cat, and made the short ride across the fields, through the stand of trees, and over to the village of Appleton. As it was only Siladay, and still the middle of the week, the Drunk Monk was not particularly busy. By the time Elise got there, the place had mostly emptied out. All those left were regulars who were there so often, and who stayed so long, that they’d practically become a part of the pub’s decor.

Sarge was lounging in an armless chair on the little platform that served as a stage, strumming idly on her guitar though she didn’t have the sound amplification turned on. The strings thrummed dully as the old ranger hummed a tuneless song under her breath. She looked up and beamed when she caught sight of her daughter entering the pub.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter. How kind of you to make the time in your busy schedule to visit an old lady!” Sergeant Darien said, setting her guitar down on the little stand beside her chair. She got up, dusted herself off, and met Elise halfway - pulling the smaller woman into a tight embrace as soon as she got within grabbing distance.

Elise laughed lightly as her mother showered her round cheeks and button nose with kisses. “Ok, ok. I think I got the message. I’ll visit more often.”

“We are a ten minute ride away from your guild hall,” Jorgen said, sounding a little grouchy. “I don’t see why you can’t just live here. It’s highly improper for a young lady to live with her beau without even the hint of a promise...I thought that young man was supposed to be a proper knight.”

“Ha...haah..nnn..Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about now, Uncle Jorgen. We broke up.”

As soon as those words left the troubadour’s mouth, the monk kicked all the stragglers out of the bar. He moved with surprising speed for a man who claimed to be so old and tired all the time. Over a mug of hot cocoa, the troubadour gave the best explanation that she could, though it wasn’t the truth. The truth would not have made sense to them, after all.

She spared Ian as much as she could; just saying that things hadn’t worked out and vaguely hinting that it wasn’t her decision. Elise made it clear that they were going to stay friends, and run the guild the best that they could. The guild was her priority.

This conversation depressed Jorgen a great deal, and he retired ahead of the two women, looking as weepy as Elise had been when it was her turn in the crying room. The monk was a tender hearted old man. Sergeant Darien, however, was not. The older ranger looked as if she might spit nails - even after Jorgen had abandoned them for the comforts of his bed.

“That little bastard.” Sarge growled, setting her empty mug of cocoa down on the bar top with a bit more force than was necessary. “I don’t even know what he looks like and I already want to slap his pompous face.”

“Mom, he’s...he’s not that bad, really. It’s my fault. It’s not easy being with someone who uses silence like a blunt weapon and runs away when things get tough…” Elise said, sighing deeply, though she was thankful that she didn’t feel any tears coming on. Her mother probably would have marched over to the guild hall and kicked down the door if her precious baby girl started crying.

The sergeant calmed at this, seeming to realize that these unfortunate habits might have come from her. Like mother, like daughter, and all that.

“Here I always thought you were the toymaker’s daughter…” Sarge said, sliding an arm around her daughter’s shoulder to give her a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you got so much of me, baby girl.”

“Did Dad get frustrated with you for the same things…?” Elise said, looking up at her mother in surprise.

“Of course he did.” the sergeant said, giving her daughter a wry smile. “But your father was incredibly patient. He was the one that saw how our stupid flaws lined up just enough that they complimented each other, and convinced me of the same...though it took some time. Don’t worry baby girl, there’s a man out there who will see that in you too. You’re going to find him and make that sad fool see what he missed out on.”

“Dad ...Dad romanced you?” Elise asked, looking even more surprised. 

Her father had been a very quiet man; always tinkering in his workshop and telling awful Dad jokes, his voice just loud enough for his little girl’s ears only. Ellie couldn’t imagine him going after a boisterous, outspoken ranger like her mother. She’d always assumed the sergeant marched up to him one day, told him he belonged with her, and he just went along with it.

“Your father had his ways,” Darien said, snorting a little. “I was completely shaken by him. Smitten before I even knew what was happening. He was working for the Rangers of Power troupe, creating special effects. This was long before he’d open up his shop, of course. I met him at one of the shows, and I suppose he was taken by me. We started writing to each other while they were on the road. Then, one day I was out in the field shooting...and fireworks just started lighting up the sky. I had no idea they were even in town, it took me completely by surprise. Your father knew how much I loved fireworks.”

The old ranger had a faraway look in her eye as she remembered. “I hunted him down and almost kicked his ass for scaring off the buck I’d been about to shoot. After that, he offered to make me a better bow...and well, let’s just say I really enjoyed the process of making things with your father.”

Elise made a face, “Ugh, don’t tell me I’m the best thing you ever made together. I might gag.”

Sergeant Darien snickered, “That sounds like one of your old man’s jokes.”

Though it probably wasn’t her mother’s intent, this conversation planted a seed in Elise’s mind. 

If her father, the boring, quiet toymaker, could be romantic….couldn’t his daughter find her own brand of romance? She’d been complacent before; letting Astredian do the hard work of making her fall in love. Although she’d been trying to fight it, deep down the troubadour knew there was still something there, between herself and Ian, tenuous as it was.

She hadn’t come to any decisions yet, the seed in her mind still waiting to sprout, but she did acknowledge something that hadn’t occurred to her until now. She was a troubadour now, and the troubadour’s philosophy was very different from that of the ranger. She was a wandering balladeer, a shining knight of melody, of poetry...and of chivalric romance.

Just how romantic could she be?