You people drive a hard bargain.
[x] ...Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya.
[x] ...Vesna Rainer.
The procession of friends you bid farewell to, fortunately, doesn't take up an inordinate amount of time. Which is to say it takes up a significant amount of time, even seeing how everyone is ready to head back to their families and communities, but things could've been worse, for a certain definition of "worse". Aphelia, at the very least, bids you a polite - if not fond - farewell. Emilie and Nikki, too, share enthusiastic "see you in a few months" with you, even if Nikki was a bit more snarky about it.
You're also embraced by two noblewomen in rapid succession.
It's Azalea in the Great Hall first, who does sneak in from behind you - slightly from the side, but mostly from behind you - as she gives you a ladylike hug that's part-affectionate, part-refined. "Promise to tell me all about your vacation when we see each other next," she gently instructs you, even as you only half-successfully fight down an embarrassed, self-conscious squeak. As formal as the gesture is, there's genuine warmth in her smile. The leaves in her hair are pleasantly aromatic in a way that makes you a little bit jealous.
"I p-p-promise!" you say. There's not really any other gracious response, and it's not as though it's a particularly burdensome request.
"Anywhere interesting you go, any adventures you have, any torrid romances you're a part of..."
"Wh-Wh-Wh...?" you stare at her, completely thrown, face heating. "I'm n-not...I w-won't--"
She giggles at you, and you feel your face heating further, even as her name is called by the academy staff; her carriage has arrived in the courtyard to take her home. "I'm joking, of course, don't look quite so panicked. You really are delightful to tease."
You pout.
Lady Lucille's farewell some time later is less refined. She approaches you from the front, at least, so it's not quite the surprise you received from Azalea. That doesn't stop you from crying out in surprise, however, when her small elven body presses up against yours and she throws her arms around your shoulder. As she flings her arms around your neck, you briefly catch Melanie's gaze over hear shoulder, looking mildly apologetic, as if she was the one hugging you unannounced.
With her lips beside your ear in the hug, Lucille quietly asks, "You'll be coming back, right?"
"Y-Yes," you reply; although it's more because it didn't occur to you immediately, the moment passes and you're glad you didn't point out that Lucille has already asked you this specific question some time before.
After all, it doesn't stop her from looking relieved. "Good," she says, backing up a little as she releases you from her hold, although her hands are still on your shoulders. "I hope you get home safe and..." she almost seems to pause here, as if trying to rationalize the thought, "...have a good time with your family." She finally lets go of your shoulder and bows her head a little, murmuring, "Thanks. For everything."
You bow your head in a hurry, which probably contributes you to you bowing your entire upper body, a gesture that seems to embarrass Lucille a little even as you declare, "P-Please enjoy your vacation too." Lucille waves on her way out of the Great Hall, presumably heading for a wagon that has pulled up outside, leaving you with Melanie for just a short moment. "A-Are you going home together?" you direct your question at the aseri.
"Yes," Melanie replies politely.
You nod, looking at Lucille's silhouette as she walks out into the light of day. "Will Lady Celestia be a-alright?" you ask quietly.
"She will. She's s-strong." Melanie sounds like she hesitates - or at least pauses - at that last part, but she at least quickly covers for it as she looks to you and bows her head politely. "Th-There are many things I need to th-thank you for as well."
You blink, confused. "Wh-What for?"
"For R-Roldharen. For h-helping Lady Lucille." Melanie fidgets a little. "For...b-being a friend."
"Oh." It's your turn to fidget awkwardly. "I-I should thank you too. You...technically helped s-save me in Roldharen."
"I d-did my best," Melanie allows in the tone of someone clearly not used to giving herself credit. After another awkward moment, she smiles shyly but sweetly, saying, "U-Until next year?"
"I-I'll look forward to seeing you again," you promise before the two of you part.
By contrast to just about everyone else, Wendy's greeting is a bit more blunt. "Hey," she calls out several minutes after you've moved out from the Great Hall to the courtyard amidst the apprentices leaving the academy one by one.
"H-Hello," you say in return, spotting the remainder of Squad Twelve over her shoulder when she stops in front of you and gives you a respectful nod. Remembering that she's hardly the only apprentice in her squad from Arkenvale, you ask, "Are you going h-home with Penelope?"
"Yeah. Guess we'll be able to meet each other's families." It occurs to you that although the two are from the same city, Arkenvale is obviously large enough that two girls from different parts of the city may not have actually known each other until they met here. These thoughts are abruptly put on hold, however, as you realize Wendy is hesitating and biting her lip. "We're...thinking about seeing Becky's family too. It's a bit out of the way, but..." she makes a visible effort to suppress a sigh and finally allows, "...well, I guess we should at least get home in a hurry first."
You nod lightly, unsure of how to react to that beyond vague polite gestures like nodding lightly. In fact, you give the conversation a moment's pause before looking over your shoulder, seeing Lucille and Melanie by a wagon bringing them home, and asking Wendy, "D-Do you...w-want to ride back to Arkenvale w-with Lady Celestia...?"
The human girl makes a face. "No."
"...O-Oh."
Rolling her eyes, Wendy drawls, "Do you even think she'd allow us unwashed plebes in her wagon?"
The two of you can't help but cast a glance in the direction of the carriage in question. By happenstance, at this very moment, Lucille is bodily leaning out of the door, beckoning for Ashlyn to join her and Melanie inside. The peasant girl, in some ways even lowlier in the scheme of Apaloft's social strata than Wendy and Penelope, smirks at her, and accepts Lucille's offered hand with the air of enjoying a private joke.
Wendy gives an embarrassed grimace at this clear evidence that she was being unfair. "Alright, I suppose she would, if we asked." She nonetheless rallies again, shrugging with an air of finality. "But I don't want to ask."
"Oh." To be entirely fair, based on past experience, you can't imagine that being shut up in a carriage all the way from here to Arkenvale with Melanie and Penelope, the two girls separated by nothing more than a few feet of empty space, would make for a peaceful trip.
"We...didn't get to talk much this year," Wendy adds, with an air of unconvincing casualness, giving an awkward fidgeting on her part. "That's...kind of my fault. Let's catch up next year, right?"
"O-Oh, um, yes. Yes, I'd l-like that." You give her a shy, pleased smile. Which lasts through most of her next comments, but not, as it turns out, all.
"Stay safe on the way home. Smash anything that gets in your way. Or strip. That seems to work for you."
Wendy flees back to the company of her squadmates on their way home before you have a chance to overcome your panicked stammering and throw Wendy into something.
"Neianne!" calls out a familiar voice before you can consider what vengeance to visit upon Wendy, and you greet - previous grudge forgotten - the green-eyed brunette approaching you happily.
"Vesna!" you say, the two of you affectionately holding your hands together when she reaches you. "Are you going b-back to...?" you trail off, consumed by the sudden realization that - even after an entire academic year - you don't actually know where Vesna comes from.
But the human merely smiles a little impishly. "I don't know yet," she admits. "I may travel Apaloft a bit first. Maybe do a bit of good with my magecraft." She beams. "Who knows? Maybe someone out there needs the assistant of a novice healer."
"You'd do g-great."
Vesna laughs. "For scraped knees, maybe."
"You helped my a-arm back in Roldharen."
Blinking, Vesna eventually allows, "Well, I did, didn't I?"
"You did," you confirm.
The mage apprentice seems to think this over for a moment before beaming again. "Well, I'll go home eventually. Need to at least spend some time with my father. But I can take my time, right?"
You smile kindly. "I hope you e-enjoy your vacation. I'll s-see you in a few months?"
That impish, mischievous smile returns to her lips once more, as if she knows a secret that you don't. "Maybe a bit less than a few months." But before you can ask what she means, she's already turning and leaving, strolling for the academy gates. "Take care of yourself!"
Mia, of course, bids you farewell by picking you up a bit and spinning you in circles. You're sure she said something happy and friendly, but you don't actually remember what it was, given all the spinning and stammering and blushing and hoping that you'll die from your mortification.
At long last, as the courtyard continues to clear of apprentices heading home, you have a moment with your squad. Or at least two members of it.
"I suppose you shall be returning to your sister and parents in Caelon?" Sieglinde asks. A wagon has arrived for her as well, but she doesn't seem inclined to hurry away home just yet.
"Yes," you confirm.
The elf nods before turning to Stephanie. "And you yours as well."
"Half-sister," Stephanie corrects, but she doesn't seem like she's particularly put off from having to issue that correction.
Fidgeting, you suddenly ask, "Y-You will be coming back, won't you, Sieglinde?"
Sieglinde blinks, looking mildly surprised at the question. "That is the intent," she acknowledges.
"Your mother didn't seem like she wants you to come back to Faulkren," Stephanie points out, crossing her arms.
Sieglinde makes a sound that largely resembles an exhale but almost seems like a scoff. "A good thing, then, that she doesn't get the final say."
"Who does?"
"I do." And when she catches looks on you and Stephanie's faces, she makes a muted wry expression, rhetorically asking, "What is she going to do? Disown me?"
You do remember that conversation with Sieglinde during the winter, back when she was sketching the shrine in Faulkren, about how she's basically stuck as the heir to House Ravenhill after the death of her elder sister, no matter how ill a fit she thinks she'll be. Still, listening to her leveraging this to her advantage in a family matter makes you feel at least a little awkward, as if you're privy to an unfortunate bit of drama beyond your ken.
There's an uncomfortable lull, and you fidget a little, glancing between the two dark-haired girls. You feel a sudden pang in your chest, an awareness of the time you've spent with both if them, the training, the meals you've shared...the blood you've spilled together and the death you've witnessed. Spontaneously, and much to the startlement of both Stephanie and Sieglinde, you fling your arms around the two of them and pull them together into a tight hug. "I-I-I'll see both of you in a few months!" you exclaim. They're more stiff with surprise than anything, and you feel your face heating, but for once you ignore it.
"You...ah, you as well," Sieglinde says, for once sounding entirely off her guard. The arm that's not wedged up against Stephanie hovers awkwardly at her side, like she doesn't quite know what to do with it. You don't imagine Sieglinde gets a lot of hugs.
"Yeah," Stephanie agrees a moment later, sounding almost perplexed.
"P-P-Pleasetakecareandenjoyyourvacationgoodbye," you blurt out so quickly that you don't even have time to stammer between the words, taking off after releasing your two squadmates from the hug and bolting off towards somewhere that's hopefully at least marginally less embarrassing.
Sadly, you don't get that far, because the word - or, in this case, one name - uttered by the right voice is enough to stop you in your tracks.
"Neianne," comes a sweet, angelic voice in an almost singsong tone, and instantly you feel a little apprehensive, if not entirely nervous.
"Y-Y-Yes?" you turn and stammer as Elizabeth approaches you with a smile on her face. Which looks very sweet and angelic, but somehow also unsettling at the same time. As if you're a mouse looking at a cat smiling pleasantly at you.
Elizabeth smirks. "There you go making puppy noises again." At least she doesn't sound particularly displeased about it. You notice a wagon packed with her personal belongings over her shoulder, indicating that she's just about ready to leave. After taking amusement at your reaction once more, she asks, "Have you ever been to Marloch?"
"No, I h-haven't."
"Lindholm?"
"N-No?"
"What about Stengard?"
"I-I haven't."
Elizabeth almost rolls her eyes a bit, as if realizing you're somewhat akin to a naive, sheltered child. "Well, clear out August on your calendar."
"Y-Yes?" you stammer, the elf's words somehow not entirely sinking in.
"I'll have a carriage sent over at the end of July." She shrugs and turns around towards the carriage that will be taking her home, concluding over her shoulder, "Get your things packed by then. See you in two months."
You watch wordlessly as Elizabeth boards her wagon and it rolls off to the north, back all the way to Lindholm. Your expression must've been utterly blank with confusion, because Stephanie returns after a moment, curiosity and concern clear on her expression. "What was that about?" she asks, a hint of wariness in her tone as if she expects little but trouble from Elizabeth given your expression.
"I...th-think she wants me to visit her," you explain blankly. "I-In Marloch."
Stephanie stares at you with an expression that can probably roughly be summed up as "holy crap, it was nice knowing you".
Fair weather holds. You are not fortunate enough to hitch a ride on a wagon when you leave with your belongings, beginning your journey home, but half a day and two villages over, a trader eyes the buster sword on your back and lets you "guard the wagon", which - given the weight you're carrying - is a welcome reprieve for your feet. This lasts for a day and a half before you part ways with the wagon, but the road ahead is closed; a wild chimera has been spotted and the local guard is on alert. Your services aren't required - the guard have matters well in hand - but thank you for offering. With the road closed, you continue on foot through a shortcut across winding hills and woodlands, trekking off the beaten path. You camp in the woods that night, then emerge at noon the next day just in time to run into another wagon - a farmer this time, not a trader - who takes you as far as her village, where you spend the night.
It's just past noon of the next day when the wood-and-stone cottages of Caelon is finally within sight just a couple of kilometers away, filling you with a pleasant warmth in your heart. In a way, Faulkren has become your home away from home, but you grew up here for years - an idyllic, sun-kissed village just shy of three hundred inhabitants, with a modest amount of farmland on one side and beautiful woodlands on the other - in this little corner of Apaloft.
Home sweet home.
The farmers tending to their fields in the outskirts of the village are the first to see your approach half a kilometer away, and although you can't quite see them quickly, there seems to be a commotion up ahead, as if they are alarmed to see you coming down the road. But then half a kilometer comes down to a quarter, and then to two hundred meters, then to one hundred, and then suddenly the looks on the faces of the farmers light up upon recognizing you.
"Oh, my goodness!" exclaims a middle-aged woman as she hurries her way through the fields towards you upon recognition. You recognize her too; it's hard not to know everyone in such a small community. "Neianne! You're back!"
Smiling awkwardly - Thora has always been a bit familiar with you, albeit in a way not unlike that of a kindly aunt - you stop your trek down the dirt road and reply, "I-I'm back."
"Who's back?" calls out another voice across the field, a head popping up from amidst the field of crops, looking around to see from where the commotion is coming from.
Thora finally manages to navigate herself out of the fields and onto the road. "Neianne's back from Faulkren!" she replies, clasping her hands warmly on your shoulders before giving you a hug.
"What?" comes the surprised reply, and then there's a bit more bustling in the fields before a slightly younger middle-aged woman emerges too, looking at you with an expression of surprise that quickly turns to glee as she stops beside you on the road, where Thora releases you from her hug and makes just a bit of room for you. "Wow," laughs Susana almost breathlessly, "you're really back."
You smile awkwardly again, greeting, "H-Hi."
Placing her hands on your shoulders, Susana exclaims approvingly, "Look at you! Walking around like a Caldran mercenary already."
"Did you just come home?" asks Thora excitedly.
"Y-Yes," you nod, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention you're getting. "I was coming in when you saw me."
"Who is it?" calls out a voice as another head pops up from the fields.
"It's Neianne!" Thora turns from you and calls out excitedly. "She's back from Faulkren!" With this, more heads pop up from the fields in surprise and excitement, and a commotion picks up even as villagers begin to emerge from the field, eager to see their very own Faulkren mercenary apprentice from Caelon up close and personal. You suspect that you're going to be swamped very quickly, in spite of Thora shouting, "Someone go run along and tell Kaia." The plump woman gives you another warm hug. "Oh, how we've missed you!"
"Th-Thank you," you breathe. Or barely manage to, given the strength to which Thora is hugging you, and given how your personal space is quickly filled with your excited neighbors welcoming your return, ushering you back into your home village.
As you walk down the road leading into Caelon proper, an entourage accompanies you excitedly, slowly growing as the commotion attracts onlookers who then discover you have returned. By the time you've passed the first houses on the perimeter of your hometown, a small excited crowd has gathered around you, bombarding you with a hundred questions. Although the elderly mostly look on from their porches with amused interest, that doesn't stop the adults and the children from swamping you. They had all contributed - even with the bursary - to get you into the academy, to make sure that one of their own would become a Caldran mercenary. They didn't expect anything in return; you were simply just one of theirs.
It does take you a while to detach yourself from the crowd, but thankfully, the crowd eventually withdraws as you near your own house, giving you space to reunite with your family. To the rest of your village, the placement of your family's house has always been a matter of curiosity. It's not quite nestled in a quiet corner of the village, apart from the rest of all the residential buildings, but creviced beside where an incline on one side meets the woodlands on the other, making it a little difficult for the average passerby to see it unless they were looking for it. It meant you spent your childhood in a quiet part of the village where the commotion of the village came from around the corner, where it was difficult for any neighbors to peek in on what your family was doing. The villagers made the occasional joke about "dryads and their privacy", but they have always respected this choice, and the occasional joke eventually faded away, the unnoteworthy acknowledgement that this is where your house is taking its place. Perhaps that is why they allowed you a moment to catch up with your family alone first; otherwise, these things tend to be a village affair, with all of your neighbors being as involved as one's immediate family.
You're almost sure the plainsfolk still think your family weird, maybe even a bit standoffish, but they've almost certainly adjusted to it.
You are thus alone in returning to your home, eager to see your parents, when you're suddenly ambushed with a cheerful cry: "Caught you!"
The high, girlish voice is accompanied by a pair of arms going around your shoulders, your attacker emerging from the bushes alongside your house. You squeak in an undignified way, jumping and windmilling your arms, even as your attacker dissolves into familiar giggles, her hold on you melting away into a playful hug. Your father's chickens scatter everywhere, setting up an offended racket, and your mother's sleepy old dog raises her head briefly before deciding that barking is just too much effort on a sunny day.
"Elana, you c-can't just grab me like th-that! I'm t-trained to fight now!" you protest, the admonishment losing a bit of credibility from the high pitch squeak it emerges as.
"Really? You're still really easy to scare!" she says, triumphantly. Releasing you, she grins and adds, "And I'm taller than you!"
"You're standing on your t-toes!" you protest.
"Am not," she says, before making herself a liar by dropping down a good inch in height. Annoyingly, at eleven summers, she's still now at eye level with you. Part of you feels that this is deeply unfair. "So, really, this means I'm the big sister now. Were you the smallest one at the academy? Did you kill any bandits on the way here?"
"No! There were s-smaller girls!" At a number that can be counted on one hand, but there's no need to tell Elana that. Somehow, absurdly, you don't think Elizabeth really counts. "And no! The r-road was fine. It's n-not dangerous between here and F-Faulkren. Except for m-maybe the chimera."
"Did you kill it?"
"No! I took a d-detour! I've already fought a w-wy..." you catch yourself, deciding it's not something you want to share with your sister. "I d-don't really want to fight a chimera! The guards had it in h-hand!"
"Boo," Elana pretends to pout. Your sister has always been more outgoing and exuberant than you, at least ever since she learned to form complete sentences. Never as much as Mia, mercifully - you're not sure you'd ever be able to survive your family life if she did - but she discovered from a fairly young age that she could get away with a lot with regards to teasing you. It used to be innocent, perhaps even endearing proclamations about how she'll eventually catch up to you in terms of height, but as the years went by, it transformed into mimicking your stutter, asking you embarrassing questions, and basically pretending you're the younger sister she has to take care of. All of which were largely unmalicious, but which can obviously be immensely frustrating for an older sister like you.
But then a new voice speaks, and your heads swivel towards a third dryad observing, "Look who's back." Your father has appeared in the doorway of the house sometime in all the confusion, looking on with a happily amused expression. Like Elana, she's built tall and thin, although she has the same red hair as you do. Elana's green-blonde wavy locks come decidedly from your mother's side.
You smile and walk over to your father. "H-Hi, dad," you murmur as you reach her and share a hug.
"Look at you," your father beams as the two of you disentangle yourselves from your hugs, and she holds you at arm's length by the shoulder, looking you up and down. "You've grown."
"No, she hasn't," Elana says behind you, unnecessarily. "I'm almost taller than her now."
"I'm not talking about her height," quips your father in the tone of voice that amused parents take with silly daughters everywhere.
"H-How can you tell?" you ask, feeling a little self-conscious.
"I'm your father. Of course I can tell. You came back just in time. Your mother's running late from the workshop, so I still have some extra food on the stove."
"No," comes a new familiar voice, and heads turn to a woman stepping out the porch from the side, "your mother's back."
Your father is tall enough to tuck you under her chin when you hug, but your mother, thankfully, isn't quite as tall. Still taller than you, of course, but not quite as - as she likes to put it - "vertically-challenged". As you're reminded of as she walks over and the two of you embrace. "Hi, mom," you murmur into her ear.
"You're back early," observes your father good-naturedly.
"Someone came along to tell me my daughter's home," your mother explains, brushing aside a few stray stands of hair from her ponytail with hands stained with sawdust. You suppose she's referring to whomever Thora told to tell your mother of your arrival. "I seem to be the last person to know."
Elana sticks her tongue out playfully at your mother. "It's your fault for having a workshop in the woods," she says in a teasing, singsong voice. Having been born in the plains, she has always been a bit more forward than the rest of your family, her personality - according to your parents, albeit mostly jokingly - "contaminated with plainsfolk frivolity".
Frivolity that your mother largely ignores for the moment. "You look tougher now," she says, stepping back to look you over as your father did. She nods with approval; her smile is broader than your father's more reserved ones, and sometimes your father jokes that your sister isn't the only one to be affected by years of "plainsfolk frivolity". "Almost like me, when I was your age."
"She's still small."
"Oh, shush, you."
"Maybe she can pick me up with just one arm now," grins Elana and, without warning, ducks under your arm and squeezes in beneath your elbow, ignoring your surprised squeak. "Hey, try to pick me up with just one arm!"
Your mother pulls your sister away with a sigh of mock aggravation while your father laughs a little. "Let her come inside and wash up, would you?" she advises, stepping backwards towards the open door to wave you inside. "Or at least let her put her weird metal bed down. She must have been carrying it for days."
"That's her sword, dad," Elana points out from where your mother has her in a headlock.
Your father smiles indulgently in the way parents do when their younger children say something silly. "Yes, I'm sure it is."
It takes you a moment before you realize they're talking about your buster sword. "I-It is. My sword."
It occurs to you, belatedly, that perhaps Elana has no problems identifying your buster sword because she's too young to realize that swords at this size are conventionally ridiculous.
It also takes you a much longer minute before you convince your parents it's actually your sword, after which they both fall silent and stare.
Your sister is dragged inside by your mother afterwards before the former can make good on her ask to swing your buster sword around.
ugh im so sorry this took so long ill be surprised if this chapter isnt split into eight parts or something posting from my phone will make proper edits later
Update was shorter than I wish it was. I meant for part one to properly showcase Neianne's family and Caelon - just before Neianne meets up with a friend from Faulkren - but I've kept you waiting for far too long. So this is what you get for now.
It's sort of amusing to imagine Sieglinde and Stephanie just awkwardly exchanging these confused, startled looks over Neianne's head as she hugs them.
I'd also like to imagine that a very "important" question has been answered.
Please don't make a habit out of deliberately creating tied votes, I'm not going to do this kind of thing often. It mostly helped that my 夏安 plans for both characters weren't mutually exclusive this time.
