Chapter 29: Eliza’s Conundrum

Chapter 29: Eliza’s Conundrum

Eliza walks through the empty hallways of Valarheim, the noise of her boots’ heels on the wooden floor breaking the silence of the early hours of the day. By the moon’s position, it’s about two in the morning and, barring the sentries and those readying for nighttime missions, most Scions are still asleep. It’s, for all intents and purposes, an unremarkable evening – the type she usually spends on the Corps’ never ending administrative duties. Yet, not only did she see the emergence of three Wraiths – a very uncommon occurrence – Paula also saw fit to try that little stunt. Marvelous.

Approaching her office, Eliza already feel ripples across the flow of Prana wafting from within and crashing against her own aura; the ever familiar presence of an Ascended Scion, a tall hill amid featureless plains. Looks like Ragnar’s been taking care of things just as she requested.

The door opens as she steps closer, gently shutting itself behind her like a loyal servant. Ragnar doesn’t even notice Eliza’s return, wholly concentrated in the piles upon piles of documents on her desk. Clearing her throat, she makes her presence known.

“Ah, ma’am!” Ragnar stammers, his quill almost slipping out of his hands. Rushing to get it back into place, he stands up from her chair and salutes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“At ease, Ragnar,” Eliza says. “I appreciate your diligence covering for me, especially with how suddenly this all happened.”

It’s not difficult to see the haste with which Ragnar came back, still covered in head to toe with the intricate noble regalia he wears – begrudgingly, as he’s often noted to the other generals –for official matters at the British court. He probably ran over as soon as she requested.

“It was no problem, ma’am; the party was already ending and I couldn’t take listening to the nobles ramble on anymore.” Ragnar steps out from behind her desk, stretching his arms with loud cricks of his weary bones; he’s never been too keen on doing paperwork but seniority says he’s the Corps’ second in command. “So, how’re the girls?”

“In one piece, much as I wanted to kill them myself. I tossed both in the dungeon until I’ve decided what to do.” Eliza grunts as she sits back in her chair, letting out a long, long sigh that fills the interior of her mask in a warm breath. “Find Ryouma and tell him what happened, please. And warn that his student is quickly becoming a growing pain in my neck.”

“Hah, weren’t we all pains in your neck at some point? Maybe it’s a good sign.” Ragnar laughs. “But she’s a nice girl, just real gung-ho when people she cares for are involved – same as Paula.”

Eliza rubs her right temple, waves of silver light soothing her headache. “And I remember telling you decades ago that ‘gung-ho’ kills… though, by now, I should know better than to expect restraint from teenagers.”

“It’s why us older folks have to help them learn, right, ma’am?” Ragnar punctuates his answer by poking a tiny circular scar at the back of his right hand, a reminder of a harsh lesson she gave to a very ill-tempered High Scion. “Either way, I trust your judgment – we all do. Anything you need, I’ll be in my office… and happy New Year.”

With one final salute, Ragnar exits the room, his noticeable presence moving farther and farther away about the flow. Silence fills the air once more, interrupted only by the occasional soft whooshes of the wind outside. “Happy New Year”… how many times has Eliza heard this? From how many people? She cannot count that high. Another year in her lengthy life has come to a close, though that doesn’t mean much by now – everything reeks of déjà vu. Novitiates make the same mistakes, some die, some survive, there’s the usual politicking with nations the world over, the war with the Valnr continues its unending back-and-forth…

Eliza has long seen herself as no more than a cog in this grand machine, doing her job until the eventual end. She’s witnessed Scions come and go again and again, and learned to accept that death will come to some of her soldiers, somewhere. And despite the seniors’ best efforts, that’s especially true for Novitiates. Such is war.

And, yet, today was different. When she realized what Paula had done, she felt her heart sink. Despite the commonality of Novitiates’ deaths, the thought of that befalling her filled Eliza with dread. Once again, that young girl managed to break her demure and summon forth a part of her spirit that she thought had been buried ages ago. Compartmentalizing is how she kept herself from breaking under everything.

Eliza grips her marble mask and places it atop one of the many piles of documents on her table. Constantly sensing the flow of Prana to see the world around is only making for added strain – she needs a moment. For the first time in gods know how long, she needs one moment of simple nothingness. Running her hands across her face, Eliza slumps back in her chair stares out to the featureless ceiling.

Maybe I should be glad that I can still feel like this. But I am not… she thinks.

The tension etched across Eliza’s hands and neck betrays the firmness that still lies upon her countenance. The burning beats of a frozen heart hurt twice as hard and hammer her wizened mind. She bites the insides of her lower lip, her teeth cutting a small wound that brings the taste of blood to her tongue.

Eliza did not need any of this to be happening right now. With that Valnr Lord walking about, scheming, that should be the sole concern in her mind. The destruction of the Valnr is her purpose; she should not, and cannot, afford to worry so about one lone Novitiate. Still, it is there. For fourteen years, it’s been there and, today, it threatens her balance and focus. Blast the circumstances that put her in this situation…

“Damn it, Paula,” she grunts aloud. “What in blazes am I going to do about you?”

“Now that’s an odd sight. Eliza McCready, uncertain?” a familiar voice erupts from the right. Eliza turns her head, startled, and finds the source: a cat, sitting upon the red and gold carpet.

“Julius… didn’t care to knock, did you?” she greets him dryly before shifting her gaze out the window.

“I figured you’d sense me coming, as always. Good thing it was me and not some rookie, hm? ” Julius answers with his traditionally relaxed tone, sauntering to the other side of her table and jumping onto one of the free chairs. “Ragnar told me what happened; glad to see you got the girls back safe.”

“… If you want to talk, then first get rid of the ridiculous disguise. There’s hardly any need for it right now.” Eliza cocks her head at her shapeshifted subordinate, her lips narrowing in annoyance.

“Oh, it’s just so much easier to get around like this… but as you wish.” Julius sighs but confirms, his whiskers drooping with dejection.

Trails of gray light begin to swirl around Julius, covering his body one by one. Soon, his tiny frame has been wrapped in a cocoon of light twists like a tornado; with a bright flash and a booming pop, the cat is gone and now replaced with a grown man in his mid-thirties.

Sporting long, flowing hair of the same chocolate brown color as his fur; Julius has it parted down the middle, keeping the rest neatly tied in a short ponytail that runs down to his shoulders. The same hairstyle he’s kept since joining the Corps – practical, he once defined it. A trimmed, pointed mustache floats above the anchor-shaped goatee that runs down his defined chin.

Always one to wear simple clothes, his white buttoned shirt hangs over simple dark woolen pants and a long leather overcoat where he keeps myriad undead-hunting tools – mementos of his old job, from practical to insane. He still swears by their efficiency and Eliza’s given up on trying to get him to stop hauling that stuff around many years ago.

“Better, ma’am?” Julius asks, earning himself an uninterested hum from Eliza. “So… want to talk about how you’re doing?”

“Wouldn’t you rather ask about the girls?” Eliza props her head onto her right hand.

Julius answers in kind, looking straight into her eyes with a slight smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “I can feel that they’re fine; more important to me is how out of sorts you seem.So?”

“Hmm… how am I?” Eliza turns her head to the ceiling again, looking around like she’s trying to count the cracks in the wooden structure. “A bit relieved; mostly seething over what Paula did.”

“Well, there was no one around to get the third Wraith, so she did follow protocol there. Hell, the fact that she figured out how to use the Flowing Crystal by herself is kind of impressive,” Julius fires back almost immediately, like he expected that answer. He probably did, ever the good reader of people.

“I know what the protocol is – I wrote it.” Eliza sniffs, pointing at Julius as if commanding him to remember who he speaks to. “And she had no business tinkering with the crystal in the first place. It’s only for proper hunters to use.”

Julius isn’t intimidated by her tone – he’s never been, from day one – and keeps his eyes set on her. “That’s a poor excuse, ma’am; I’d told you that she was ready to get to work. You said no, but the fact is this mess wouldn’t have happened if you’d agreed. For one, I would’ve taken Paula with me, and Amit and Josette could’ve handled that third Wraith.”

“Excuse me?” Eliza’s frown deepens. “Are you implying this is my fault?”

“Way I see it, both you and Paula are at fault. Did you forget what kind of kid we’re dealing with? Furthermore, she is a proper Scion of Lerius, with all the responsibilities of one. She should have started hunting months ago.” Julius crosses his arms, maintaining his calm attitude but staring Eliza down.

She’s half a mind to relocate him to Valarheim’s moat but that would imply that she disagrees with what he’s saying. Eliza knows, all too well, the circumstances around Paula.

“Yet, for no good reason, you’ve held her on a short leash. You may want to keep that suffering girl safe but she is desperate to help – to help you in particular. Stopping her from doing so is not only against Lerius’ will, but it’s also eating away at her. And I know you can see that,” Julius continues.

Eliza feels her headache coming back, a throbbing pain throughout her skull; she closes her eyes, rubbing their lids. Though she says nothing, her mind is racing, seen in the lines etched in her crumpled face. I do see that, but…Eliza thinks.

Julius inches closer, setting his elbows upon her table. “Paula’s fixation with you is anything but healthy, but that’s how she is right now. It was clear from day one that she would never be kept from this, and trying to do so won’t help her in any way.”

Eliza opens her eyes once again, her piercing gaze framed around her right hand’s fingers. “I don’t remember asking your opinion on that matter, Julius.”

“Sure, but you keep me around because I’ll give it anyway,” he answers with a friendly smile. “Paula has a duty to perform. You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Everything about me is complicated… she’s just added more to the pile.” Eliza shakes her head, weariness spreading across her pale skin. Her hands drop onto the table, defeated. She can’t find any argument to use but that hardly makes acceptance any easier.

“You’ll just have to work through it, ma’am. Best I can do is promise you that I’ll guard her with my life during the hunts,” Julius says.

A voice at the back of Eliza’s mind tells her to just order Julius to piss off – she’s the commandant, so it’s her call to make. But she will not. It wouldn’t be fair to Julius, to the Lerius Brigade and much less to Paula. The girl’s grave mistake notwithstanding, Eliza needs to accept her status. She is just another Novitiate, undeserving of any special treatment. It shouldn’t be this complicated. It can’t be.

Eliza lets out a soft grunt, grabbing her mask and setting it back upon her face. "Fine; you win. Just... just do whatever you want." She shoos Julius away, grabbing her quill and turning her attention back to work. Best to do that than dwell on this.

"I'm glad to hear that, ma'am." Julius cracks a wide smile, standing up from his chair with poorly contained satisfaction. He'd been bugging Eliza to let Paula hunt for a while now. "I'll bring Paula to our barracks and explain the situation... Should I bring Hilda along, considering she's already seen so much?"

"Hm... Call Owen Kendrick, too; it's only a matter of time before Hilda tells him anyway." Eliza sighs. "Have those girls get back to work and, as punishment, they'll be cleaning Valarheim's latrines for a week."

Julius jokingly grips his nose, sympathizing with what they’ll have to endure. “As you say, ma’am. Anything else?”

“No, you may go. This matter has taken too much of my time… I’m done caring about it,” Eliza says, gesturing at the door and willing it open. In the brusque movements of her hands, it’s very clear that she wants to be left alone.

Julius understands and salutes her before heading out. On the verge of stepping outside, however, he turns his head to her one last time. “We both know that won’t happen… You’re still the light in her life and it’s not your nature to leave anyone in the dark.”

Eliza slams the door behind Julius the second he exits, clutching her quill to the point where it snaps in half; he has no idea what he’s asking of her. And the worst part is that she, indeed, cannot bring herself to face away. Through no fault of her own, Paula tugs at Eliza’s spirit with far more strength than she can resist, prodding at things she’s kept under lock and key. Behind her expressionless mask, her teeth clench as a storm of frustration rages about her eyes.

And that may well be what crushes me, Eliza says inwardly.