Through the distant, grey mists, the village appeared smaller than it was in truth, though it still failed to impress. The slick, muddy path made the approach strenuous and even a little repulsive, as each time her boots sank into the mud, Diantha found herself wondering if it wouldn’t be better if she had died with all the other Blossoms so swiftly culled. On one fork of the road, a horrible death. On the other, this rank, cloying smell of wetness, the stench of things that Diantha did not know how to name but knew she despised. Still, she refused to retch in front of her wards, and to turn back would be a shame more sordid still.
Crude, weathered timber made for an ugly sight, but sturdy enough for the houses here, and their stooped and heavy thatched roofs were more robust than they appeared at first, to have endured the heavy rains. None in the center of the village waited to meet them, but Diantha noticed eyes looking through unbarred windows, tracking their movements. Mia was perceptive enough to become suspicious, but Diantha pulled her hand away from the hilt of her sword; it was good that she recognized the danger of an unknown place, but until they could be certain, it was best not to show any hostility. Sometimes a sword, once drawn, cannot be sheathed.
When they were finally received by half a dozen men and women, it seemed a favorable sign that they did not bear arms, either. Amidst the tensions growing within Alunziria, this was what passed for hospitality now. That the Prince-Regent had sent Blossoms to deal with the uprisings in the province rather than Vaduria’s troops could be an ill omen as much as it might be cause for relief. In other words, they couldn’t know anything at all for certain, and who knows how they might react? Lovely. I had forgotten how it felt to be a moron.
“Well met,” she said with a curtsy, and forced out all the pleasantries she must have somewhere inside her, swallowed by dust, by grief, by fatigue. “Good folk of Vaduria. I pray our arrival brings no cause for alarm. These are tense days, I am well aware, and the last thing we want is to frighten. Ours is a diplomatic mission,” I hope it remains that way, at least. “This discontent troubles our Rose, and I have been tasked with resolving the matter more amicably than the Vadurian slangrills. It always falls upon Blossoms to do what worthless, fatuous, eurysome dotards lack the wits to do. They couldn’t find their own cocks if they had to piss. And so I am here. I cannot know which of you nurture resentments towards Vaduria, and for what reasons, and which of you may have believed the wisest course to be rebellion. You will not be punished for it, as it has not come to blood, and I am not inclined to allow matters to get that far. Your honesty and your cooperation will help me ensure that.”
As expected, none stirred. Those with rebellious sympathies would not be foolish as to reveal their secrets and allegiances with minimal prompting, and those willing to help the Rose were unlikely to know anything worth hearing. Nevertheless, they had to be here, somewhere, and a display of good intentions ought to be a fine soil on which to sow peace. If my predecessors had actually cultivated loyalties within Vaduria, she thought bitterly, I would not have to start from nothing. The last emissaries to Eluriel were well-bred Vadurians fit to mingle amidst the gilded halls of royalty… But in a shithole as execrable as this Territory, those halls were but the smallest portion of the land. Those high lords did not require such courteous efforts to maintain their loyalty while the Ruby Blossom watched over the world, but the hordes of common folk left behind by the course of history did demand attention that was never given to them.
“It is easy to lose track of certain facts,” she recalled Henriette explaining to a dozen or so Blossoms gathered for tea. Lillia had been the one whom Henriette invited, Diantha merely accompanying her as she often did. “Our alliances are important, and work must be done to preserve them, but such formalities are limited, and limiting as well. Our Rose has outlasted dynasties, and the natural course of history must lead us to expect that we will yet outlast more of them. Our fates may entwine; they must never join. Think on the plain truth that great Houses end but there will always be people. Powerless they might be, but nevertheless nothing comes to pass without their touch.”
Lillia had scoffed at that, and Diantha would nod in agreement later that night when Lillia remarked that Henriette’s words were nonsense. But privately, she believed in Henriette. She was just too afraid of Lillia to disagree with her.
There was no inn here, to no one’s surprise, but after some insistence, the villagers were able to provide some lodging, though they would not remain together. Hugo and the horses were sheltered beneath what a young man called a stable but which was clearly just a decrepit livestock pen. Less than half a dozen cows grazed about, joined by twice as many sheep. On the opposite side of the village, rice and barley and wheat were grown in communal patches alongside other crops Diantha didn’t recognize. A tool shed was offered to Mia and Teana, who had the grace to politely accept, while Serra and her pegasus joined Hugo. Serra spoke to it as though it were a baby, and Diantha was compelled to tell her to shut up and stop humiliating herself, but she held her tongue for courtesy’s sake, and was granted a bed in a deserted shack. The dust and disrepair were a fair trade for some privacy.
A handful of ryals bought them warm meals. Too great a price for peasants’ porridge fit for pissing upon, but some overcosted meat and beer helped wash it down and dull the taste of vomit Diantha felt building up. It’s not poison, at least, she comforted herself, though it certainly tasted foul enough to make her long for death.
Wherever she went, attention fell upon her, as she was watched over by several villagers, though what it was that they wanted to see was hard to tell. They could be foes as easily as they could be loyalists, or they might just be curious onlookers. Though their stares annoyed Diantha, it was not a great harm, and allowed Teana to roam freely, hopefully unearthing any information of value. When they met again, as the lights were going out and the time came for all to sleep, Teana had a few crumbs of interest to share.
“There is no doubt that the people here are familiar with the rebellion,” she said. “Not a surprise, I know, but what I heard confirmed it. They were not questioning whether or not to sell us out, at least. I wouldn’t be able to tell whether it’s simply because they know they can’t really hostilize us, and thus they fear us, or because they see us as friends.”
“It makes enough sense that they wouldn’t be all of the same mind,” said Diantha. “They spoke openly about these rebels, then?”
“They did. That was not the word they used, however.”
“And which word would they prefer, hm?”
“Those who think it’s folly would call them malcontents, knaves, coistrils, and an older woman referred to them as morons. The people who did not have such a low opinion of them referred to them as Isan’s men, or as healers.”
“Isan… Their leader, perhaps their founder?” Diantha wondered. “The name is unfamiliar to me, but so are most names of Vadurian peasants. Healers, though… Very curious that no such name was mentioned by the Prince-Regent or any of his advisors. Are they truly so blind to the nature of this revolt, to know nothing of it, not even the most basic of facts?”
“From the way they were spoken of, these healers did not appear to be adherents to some heresy. I cannot say that for certain, however. But I heard no words of blasphemy or superstition, so with what I know I still can only assume it’s a secular coterie.”
“Well done,” Diantha said, and the praise seemed to surprise Teana. “Healers… What am I to make of that…?”
“If I learn any more, I’ll inform you,” she said. “Diantha… Do you think it will come to blood?”
“We are here to ensure that does not come to pass,” Diantha reassured her. “For the most part, thus far this revolt has only chased off tax collectors and rendered most of the province incommunicate. Loyal alcades were ousted, roads and bridges put under blockade, but it seems a bloodless movement. We aren’t dealing with impulsive imbeciles, at least. Once we learn what exactly it is that they seek, we will know how to deal with them. They might even be receptive to being civilized.”
“Do you think that our arrival might change that? Make them panic, I mean, if they think we’re here to wipe them out.”
“Men are always prone to panic and haste,” Diantha shrugged, “which is why we are clearly conveying that we seek a peaceful resolution to this. If these healers have associates in this village, word of our intentions ought to spread. You still seem uncertain, though.”
“I have never fought against people, not in any serious fashion,” said Teana. “I have never fought outside the sparring circle, truthfully…”
“Blossoms are made for more than just fighting,” Diantha explained. “Though that is one of our duties, when it is demanded of us. Hurting people is easy. Killing them is not. I have no doubt that some of your peers will have boasted of their skill in combat, and with false bravado claimed to have no compunction about taking life. Let them boast. A fool’s tongue is but a whip for their arse.”
“Do you speak from experience?” She asked, and something in Diantha’s face must have been uglier than expected, because Teana apologized at once. “That was an inappropriate thing to ask. I’m very sorry.”
“It’s fine,” perhaps if Diantha said it she might believe it. “The questions that we are not expected to ask are often ones worth asking. Shame is quite an effective technique when it comes to dulling curious minds. I have taken up arms time and again but have never slain anyone. I have shed blood. But beyond that… Nothing.”
“Did you… Did you ever wish to? Or could you never…” She clutched her chest. Diantha knew the feeling. That unnameable wrongness in the chasm of the soul.
“I never had to,” she said.
It was not a lie. Teana could make of it whatever she desired, but Diantha knew she had not lied. She had heard the dying dirges of corpses sliced and pierced, but it had never been her hand that delivered them from the flesh, not once… She had been in Teana’s position, too, asking an older, more experienced Blossom about the topic, but the answer she received had been different. Colder, crueler… That was how Lillia spoke.
“You might have to,” Diantha said to Teana before her own mind wandered to hurtful memories. “I can promise nothing, and battle is a chaotic affair. When the time comes, choice may be taken from our hands. We all must be aware of that, whatever our own wills may be. But if you have enough wits to care for my advice, I will tell you this: when you head to a conflict expecting violence and bloodshed, with the desire to mete out death, then you will find cause to do so, whether it’s truly there or not.”
“I will keep that in mind,” she said, and appeared earnest. “And I will hope that all of this remains purely conjectural.”
Diantha nodded, watched Teana walk away, breathing silently, slowly. She snuffed out her candle, letting the gloom swallow her and her thoughts. It was not hope or happenstance that spared me from soiling my hands. And neither was it virtue. She thought of Lillia’s fingers sticky and crimson, damp, and warm… But now here lingered only the cold.
The Rose's Torn Petals 