[Self-post] On guilt, love, and duty

[Gillermo Stregazza]

In the room I'd cleaned up for myself, I'd fallen into an uneasy sleep. I could have blamed it on my conscience, on guilt, on pain. Instead, I blamed it on the humid heat of the Eluite summer nights.

I'd sent Mirielle away, to fight in Azzalle, refusing with cold and frigid calm to follow her. Words rang in my mind as twisted and turned in my bed, bedsheets galore.

“My sword is yours. It ever was.”

I had visions, too, of her tending to me like one does a babe, ignoring fresh lashes on her back, cleaning the nails, my nails, on which her blood was drying.

Sometimes, the dreams were merciful and lapsed into nothingness. The black void of deep sleep claimed me, and for a few blessed hours, I found rest.

My days were little better. Ever exhausted, constantly cranky, I prowled the city for news of the disappeared, to no avail. It affected the dreams.

Somtimes I saw Cascata. Her braided hair was a mess, her bedspread thick with fever sweat. I heard her retching, crying, begging for merciful death. Those nights were the worst, and I often finished them out in the yard, looking at the stars and crying in solitude.

Then one night came, that outdid everything. A woman cried, keened, and I could have told her voice apart from any crowd. She was screaming now, begging for help, and in the dream, there were rough hands to silence her, more hands to rip her gown, more yet to savage her, and through it all, she screamed and begged, no no no, and the sight of it made my blood boil even in the deepest of my slumber. It went on while I thrashed in my sleep, and the hands reached for a hunting knife, diving into her helpless flesh and carving Skaldic runes of which I knew nothing.

Mirielle crying, Mirielle suffering, Mirielle raped, tortured, Mirielle wounded and killed and a babe crying for her dead mother, prone on the lifeless body of my beloved.

The vision was unbearable, and I woke up with a start.

Under my breath, the words came again, ringing truer and with deeper meaning.

“My sword is yours. It ever was.”

[Gillermo Stregazza]

Two days later...

In the little hours of the morning, I took my quill and started to write a note of instruction for Raisa.

I felt guilty, leaving my new employee in such a whirlwind of change, but at the same time, I could hardly stand to stay and further endure the dreams and guilt.

All in all, I felt better about the whole deal, and ready to travel. I set, then, to writing a list of notes to Raisa, to assist her in her charge. I was apologizing for leaving her so soon, with little to no training on the job, but assured her of my trust in her heart and in her capacities. I'd written her a letter of introduction to Auberon Shahrizai, who had our funds in safekeeping, the budget I had drafted for her, and instructions that would help her develop that aspect of her work.

In the letter, I explained that I'd found a retainer I already liked, though trust had to be developed, and his network of strong arms had been tapped into and hired. I had a captain of the Stregazza guard, he had a second, and I trusted that the woman they called Flower would keep an eye on the ragtag band of thugs.

There was also a letter of introduction to House Mereliot, one to Leandre de Guivre, one to Avrielle no Valerian, and one to the Queen herself, with instructions to keep it for all extreme measures. The letters all explained that I had gone to Azzalle and had appointed Raisa Valois my stewardess, that she was both tasked with keeping house and allowed to search for Cascata, and that I would owe a boon, if any would assist her in my absence.

My instruction was also to ask Avrielle for information about my sister, and her last assignation on Mont Nuit. I begged her to inform Leandre of my departure as soon as she could, as well, and left her with a note for Baltasar de Cordova, whom I believed could be of help in searching Cascata.

She had permission to hire a carriage driver and to buy a few more horses, and instructions to visit the Bank Palatine as soon as possible, to that effect.

The various notes written, identified, and sealed with the seal of House Stregazza, I dressed in my travel gear once more, keeping close to my body my own letters of credence, and locked the door to my study, which I didn't wish to see visited in my absence. I took the letters to Raisa's room, and leaving them for her to find, and went to saddle Strider, ready to leave.

I was ready to go face my guilt. Mael and Adrien would ride with me, strength in numbers for a time of chaos.