4. Silvershield Estate

Aiwë grits her teeth. "Torm protect me," she prays in Orcish. She hurriedly picks up the books and returns them to the shelf, which she carefully puts back in place. "Maybe next time lets not do research by poking around in the private things of our very kind, very strained, very powerful host, okay?" She takes one of Entar's pens and writes a note.

Lord Silvershield,

Stella had a druid moment in your office. I apologize on behalf of my team and ask for your understanding. Duke Jannath can attest to the extreme nature of the stresses she faced today. It won't happen again. I hope you find your office restored to your satisfaction, but I will pay for any damages you see fit.

Aiwë Blacksheaf

She looks over the letter and sighs. Aiwë drives this group forward now, and while Stella can clear her own plate Aiwë has responsibility for the group.

"Alright, get out now and go to bed before anyone sees you." She grabs the spellbooks.

Aiwë leaves the office and walks to the room she shares with Stella. She puts the spellbooks on Stella's bed and steps back. There's a note on top.

Let me know when you want to work on these.

She sighs, does the bare minimum to get ready for sleep, then crawls into bed. She closes her eyes and Gruumsh stares at her through Keggruk's face, and all around him are holes in her mind.

She sleeps anyway.

"Yes Ma’am" Dieter replies. He slips out of the room makes his way to his bedroom with the utmost haste and stealth.

Wait, his mother didn't just get sick? Did it have something to do with these...Knights of the Shield?

"...You're right. I haven't treated you like you deserve to be," She swallows. "I say this not as an excuse, but so you know I do care about you: I...I found out today that my powers could be used to shatter continents and kill gods. And my first fear was what might happen to you and your home here. But I let my fear direct me more than my care..."

She pauses. "And you're right. You need to be devoted to your city. If..." She closes her eyes, frustrated with herself. "If you want to be alone, I'll leave you alone. But you're hurting. If you're going to be able to help your city, it sounds like you also need to talk. About your mother, and your father. And if it helps, I want to listen."

There's some muted shuffling, and then Aldous opens the door again. "Thank you, Stella. I appreciate that. For tonight, though, I think I'm fine. Goodnight."

The door closes again, and this time she hears his footsteps receding.

Stella nods as the door closes.

"...Goodnight."

Stella stands there, eyes-stars a dim blue, feeling as if lead ink were draining from her pores, weighing her down from both inside and out. Part of her wanted to silently scream. But she didn't have any energy left for even a silent one, feeling run dry like a toppled inkwell left unrighted.

So she just stands there.

It's...a start. she tells herself. The back of her mind whispered it was also an end.

After several minutes of silently staring, she slowly turns and starts walking to help finish cleaning.

When she arrives at Entar's office, she stands in the doorway, looking over the clean office, scarcely a sign of her outrage. Her boots clack against the floorboards as she walks over to read Aiwë's note.

...Druid moment. Aiwë made it sound like vandalism was a normal occurrence for Stella. But she had cleaned up her pages, replaced the books, mended the chair, and wrote an explanation and apology. All without complaint.

She stops and stands for several more minutes, then turns and heads for her room.

She glances at her tomes on her bed with the note, then at Aiwë, asleep or seemingly so. She truly didn't deserve a friend like Shelur. She would try to change that.

Stella then does her best to quietly doff her armor, dress for bed, then lowers herself onto the mattress as if with great effort and stares at the ceiling, mind swimming, heart sunken.

It's...a start. she tells herself again.

But she wouldn't be studying the stars tonight.

Aiwë rises with the sun. The Silvershield manor is likely to be tense this morning.

She first checks to see if Aldous is up. He'll likely need her. Perhaps Koveras is a better help to him, but Aldous is her friend too, and she'll be on hand.

If she doesn't run into the frog-legged lordling, she settles into the dining hall to play soothing tunes on her lyre to the wakening household.

Aiwe finds Aldous sitting in the dining hall with some papers in front of him, deep both in thought and in a large bowl of iced cream. By the spatters of melted cream on the table, he hasn't quite mastered dual-wielding spoon and quill simultaneously.

"Morning, lordling," Aiwë calls quietly. A satisfying sounding sweep of the hand clears the ice cream spatters. "How did things go last night?"

"Ah! Good morning to you as well, Aiwe."

He leans back in his seat, revealing more ice cream stains down his shirt. "You mean with Skie? Father and I managed to talk some sense into her, I think. Father was... extraordinarily humble. 'Twas... it was rather sweet to see, despite the circumstances. Anyway, she wouldn't come home, but she's done with that Eldoth Kron, at least. It turns out the small fortune we gave him is more valuable when not shared with a partner." He shakes his head. "She's gone off to stay with some friends. I hope she returns soon..."

Aldous takes another mouthful of iced cream. "How are you faring today?"

"I'm glad Skie is safe." Aiwë cocks an eyebrow at him and his iced cream stains. "You've got something there..."

She sits back and tunes her lyre. "Oh you know. I'm fine. I just have tender pride. And an unrelated headache."

Aiwë strums some experimental chords before adjusting another string. "I don't need to know your family secrets or anything, but I know yesterday was hard in a lot of ways. I just want you to know I'm here if you need." She smiles up at him. "I consider you a friend."

Aldous rolls his eyes. Not at Aiwe, but at the mention of yesterday. "Oh yes, hard in a great many ways. But... I don't know. I also feel... focused, I suppose. We have an important job to do, after all." He meets her eyes. "But I do appreciate your friendship. Maybe after the Iron Throne's taken care of we can talk about some of this stuff, but for now... Better just to stay focused."

He ignores her remark about his dirty clothes.

"Iced cream already, Aldous?" Koveras enters the dining hall, looking fresh and alert. "Didn't we talk about this?" His typical frown is already in place this morning, but he tosses Aiwe a wink at Aldous' expense.

Aldous snorts. "Some of us need more for breakfast than just some push-ups, Koveras." He grins up at the half-orc. "Besides, it's not as though I'll get fat from it. I'm eating for two, after all."

Koveras settles into a chair. "I hope your aim with fire bolts and scorching rays isn't as messy as your eating habits."

He glances at Aiwe and her lyre. "What are we going to hear this morning, Blood?"

Aiwë does a half bow from her seat, grinning at the exchange and the nickname. First 'cousin' and now 'Blood'.

"I'm taking requests," she says with a flourish on the lyre.

Koveras tilts his head back slightly. "How about an Orcish one? Something to wake the late-sleepers and put some fire in their blood?"

"I have just the thing!" Aiwë puts the lyre on the table so she can strum at it with one hand and sets a rhythm with her feet and her other hand.

"Tsvuuuuk!" She begins with a cry. Not full volume, certainly, she doesn't want to break Aldous and Koveras' ears at this distance, but it is a loud performance.

She sings the full round once in Orcish, a rousing chant-like tune with a heavy rhythm from her hands and feet that does indeed bolster the spirit and put fire in the blood. She even repeats the round once in Common for Aldous' benefit.

Awake!
Blood, my blood! Awake already!
The sun shines off the snow already
The caribou are walking already
Leave your cave
Leave your tent
Leave your lovers arms already
Take your spear
Take your club
Come and join the hunt already
Blood, my blood! Feel the fire!
Awake!

Her last word finishes like a howl, and she pounds the table before cutting off abruptly.

"You speak of yourself?" Dieter speaks up addressing koveras’ comment he was sitting in a corner chair. He had been quietly polishing his armour. He was wearing a loose linen tunic again but this time with some added trim embroidered on the collar though it’s quality was poor.

Aiwë jumps with a curse. "Stop doing that." She rounds on him, likely to scold further, but stops. "Oh, hey, I like your tunic."