Reunification - 3 (Patreon)

This is not the chapter I wanted to write, nor am I particularly happy with how *little* got done. This last week has been... fraught. To understate things greatly.

I won't burden you with my difficulties and just say that I apologise for the quality, delay, and that I will try to do better.

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"Seven hundred." Amelia said bitterly as she stared out into the dark and foggy night. All but the most stalwart of her subjects had abandoned her and, of the host she had brought to bear, one large enough to make up a third of the rebellion, a scant seven hundred remained. "To be thwarted by a childish crush of all things..."

She could almost respect the upstart knights. Even many lords with a true and proper pedigree were lacking in a tenth of the skill Darius had shown in establishing his little rebellion; he would have failed, of course, had she not sought revenge against her dear Adam's murderer, but he had enough that the king would have been given pause. Perhaps even enough to see his daughter's gambit to succeed.

Truly, were it not for the fact it was a betrayal of everything she desired now, she would respect them for their skilful manoeuvring.

Putting her wineglass to her lips, she glowered as she found it empty. She knew what Adam would say, that at her age so much wine was an ill decision that would cost her what time she had left... but she did not care. The dark red of the wine as she splashed more into the glass was just the colour she wished to be spilled from the Greymanes, one and all.

Though perhaps not the princess. Killing children was unsightly – and Geoffrey had yet to take a wife. Ten years would no doubt have been a long time for him to wait, but royal blood – the last of the true royal blood – would have been a grand salve to the pain she felt.

And a just price to be paid to her family for what that monster had done to her Adam. But it was not to be.

"Seven hundred." She said once again, mulling over her wine as she swirled it in her glass. "The eastern reaches are lost, the river cannot protect them. The Bite as well. Carnam, perhaps... but no, they will simply bypass the castle."

Or bring it down entirely. The old bastion had been built for an older time, when mages were scarce and cannon but the dream of crazed dwarves in some far-off land. She might bleed twice their number from those that came for her, but more than that would be a foolish dream – less if they brought forth the witch or archmage. And no doubt she would be quite willing; useful and irritating brat that she was.

Even should she find some old ravens, or arrogant young adepts, willing to aid her for a price, she was hardly so ignorant of magic as to believe they would hold a candle to those her foes could muster.

Had Adam still been with her, able to wield the Light to protect their family...

"No. To stand and fight is a fool's errand." There was no foe worse than one that could not be found. The Shadowglen trolls had made that abundantly clear over the centuries. "So why not go back to the old ways?" As Arathor had learned, the Dales did not die easy, and even Aderic himself had needed to win the peace his descendants took for granted. Why, it would be oh so simple to regale the peasantry with stories of fighting against tyranny, of fighting against unjust rulers like in the old times. Having brave warriors rest for the night, take some supplies away, and visit destruction upon those that dared to enter land that was not theirs.

Even those traitorous lords that refused to aid her, so afraid of their status, would look the other way as tax collectors and other enforcers of the Greymane's will just... disappeared. There were many trees that would grow more beautiful with the blood of outlanders nourishing their roots

And should they ever foolishly come themselves, seeking to bring an end to their righteous cause... well, she might gain her well-deserved revenge at last.

A smile graced her lips as she imagined the sight, her wine tasting ever so sweeter with prospects less dire before her.

But the moment died quickly as a raven flew out of the fog to land at her window.

"The noble prince stoops so low already?" She scoffed loudly as she met the beady black eyes of the bird. "Or was it perhaps his oh-so-heroic lady who commanded you to violate those morals you hold so tightly? Certainly it would be harder for one such as you to deny one with such convincing... assets." The raven glared at her before it started to change, but Amelia only smirked. "Did you at least include fiancee in the price you demanded, or are you an adulterer also?"

The unfittingly normal looking girl set her sole notable feature, her amber eyes, upon Amelia with clearly expressed irritation. "There is a difference between the death of an innocent and one who would spill blood for blood's sake."

Scoffing, Amelia rolled her tired eyes. "Innocents. We both know better; thieves and rebellious fools who refused to surrender their arms are no more innocent than I."

"And the woman you stripped to her underclothes–" The witch bit her tongue and settled herself. How disappointing, it would have been far more enjoyable to torment her would-be-assassin further before matters came to a head.

"You know, I had a chance to kill Genn." Arevin said almost conversationally, her discomfort and irritation just barely colouring her words enough to be noticed. "Or at least try to. But in the end I didn't do it; it wouldn't have–"

"Here to tell an old woman how you had what she wanted most in your grasp but chose to let it go, are you?" Amelia interrupted coldly. She kept swirling her glass, holding it between herself and the witch – all the while her free hand moved subtly towards the lining of her skirt and the dagger within. "You balked at administering justice to those that broke their oaths to you, no doubt you were simply afraid."

The flicker in the girl's eyes and the click of her teeth made clear her words had hit home. Hah. Trust a self-important peasant girl to let her fear of dying stop her from doing as she ought.

Still, she made an admirable effort, for one of her class, to ignore Amelia's barbs and picked up where she left off. "It likely wouldn't have worked, and had I somehow succeeded... it may have even made things worse for us all."

"Hardly." Amelia muttered.

"But this?" Arevin gestured in her direction as her hand closed around her dagger. "An old woman dying in her sleep after drinking too much when her revenge had been denied to her?" She shook her head. "No one would question it. A convenient excuse to just... let things go."

Amelia snorted and leaned back, her eyes drooping until her vision was but the barest sliver possible. "And if I should scream, tell all my loyal lords of the king's little assassin?"

She would die, but at least she would not–

"None would hear you." Arevin cut off her train of thought as she stepped forward, her footsteps silent despite the creaky floorboards of the inn's shabby construction. "I suppose I should thank you for that. It would've been a lot harder to pull off if you hadn't forced me to get all that practice with the mage as I dragged him back to Darius."

There wasn't any point in figuring out what the witch meant as she got close enough, and with a surge of energy none would expect from one her age she lashed out. Her dagger slashing through and gutting the witch who had so stupidly–

... Why was she unhurt? Why hadn't the blade cut her?

Gentle hands on her shoulders pulled her back into her chair, the energy she had mustered falling away as her eyes fell shut once more.

"Your grandson will go free like you planned and succeed you as Lord of the Dales." The words were strangely distant and muffled, like the feeling of a hand guiding her knife back to its sheath in her dress. "He won't be judged for what you chose to do."

Struggling desperately, Amelia forced her eyes open, blinking at the sight of two brown-haired girls with mirrored expressions. Yet, even though she opened her mouth to mock the trickery of her killer... All that came forth was an exhausted sigh, her neck falling slack as she slumped in bonelessly in her chair.

"Goodbye, Lady Tulvan. It shouldn't have had to come to this." Her killer mumbled empty platitudes.

Worthless. Worthless. The king should never have killed her son. Oh, how she wished she could go back to the days when her darling boy had so proudly shown her around his cathedral, his successes...

His Light...

His vestments...

His... magic...

His...

...

-oOoOo-

"And so she suffocated in her sleep, the wineglass still in her hand to sell things better. I didn't stick around to see what their responses were – I figured even just a raven would be suspicious enough." Gwen said wearily, her eyes downcast and avoiding Lorna's own just as they had been for the entirety of her report. "Listened to some of the rumours in the next town over before coming back. Lots of blame for not watching her more carefully but nothing about assassination or foul play."

It was impossible to miss just how badly the task they had forced upon her sat with Gwen. Whether it was the cold-blooded assassination compared to a heated battle, the death of a once-ally, or even just someone she knew well... it didn't truly matter.

Gwen was hurt by it, and Lorna couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for being part of the act. She didn't hesitate to pull Gwen into a comforting hug, letting the shorter girl rest her head against her. "I am sorry that you had to do it." She offered as a partial apology; she could not apologise for making her do it, it... it had been necessary.

Nor for her, not even for Gilneas as the Tulvan's could have been handled in other ways, but for Liam to be able to trust Gwen. No matter how much Lorna trusted her favourite – and oh so adorably bashful – witch, he looked at her with at least some of the words of his father ringing in his mind. As a result, he had demanded she be tested before he would allow her into their confidence.

Tulvan had simply been... convenient. A distasteful task that they both knew full well she would not enjoy, a way to test her resolve to act as they asked her to.

"Without Tulvan to lead them the Dales will fall in line." Lorna rubbed Gwen's back gently. "Her death will prevent the civil war from erupting again. You've saved lives doing what you did, and you did it without harming anyone you didn't need to."

Some of the lords would still make trouble, the next Lord Tulvan chief amongst them, but that wasn't Gwen's problem.

It was hers as Liam's queen.

"I know." Gwen huffed, wriggling out of the hug and moving to sit beside her on the settee. "She was a horrid bint, mean and cruel, nothing motivating her anymore except revenge... but it's better I feel bad for killing her than not." After a moment she looked up at Lorna, then, quite daringly for Gwen, leaned into her. "Killing people is too easy to feel good about."

Lorna smiled happily as her friend implicitly forgave her. It would be difficult to gain true friends as queen, even more so than as the heir to a duchy. "One should never feel gladness from taking a life, only in the reasons for why it must have been done."

The moral code of a knight had featured prominently in Dame Hilda's lessons. In between being beaten black and blue, of course; the only time there was time for lectures was when she could scarcely stand.

"Eh..." Gwen mumbled her disagreement. "There's people who really deserve to die..."

"Such as?" Lorna raised an eyebrow questioningly, then shook her head. "Nevermind. Gwen... we won't ask you to do this again. There are better things for you to be doing, so very many things that you and your talents alone are suited for; a killer in the night... distasteful as it might be, they are hardly uncommon."

Gwen prodded her side. "Couldn't stop me helping with the harvest if you tried. And I've got to get Tess her wolf still... not that I think diplomacy's my strong suit. I'm not delusional."

Though that was the most obvious task, and a truly obvious statement, it was hardly what Lorna had been thinking of; though not what she had considered properly until she'd had a long discussion with Liam about Gwen.

Having known her for so long Lorna had accepted Gwen was... herself long ago. The revelation of her prophetic knowledge had explained much, her life from another world even more, but they had simply been explanations for things that Lorna had become used to over the years. With an outside perspective, one geared towards seeking advantages that they might use to secure their still alarmingly tenuous reign...

Well, Gwen's knowledge had become one of the things they came back to repeatedly. "I was more considering what you might do for Gilneas with that clever little mind of yours." Lorna poked Gwen's forehead and smiled. "Not just what you know about us, but your other world. It's the source of your inventions, is it not?"

Under the pressure of her finger, Gwen started to pout. "I still did the work to make them! Do you have any idea how hard it is to rebuild something you only saw pictures of when you were a child – a child thirty years ago?"

"I did say you had a clever little mind." Lorna tapped her head again, smiling wider as her pout deepened.

Unfortunately, a knock on the door interrupted her fun and she let up on Gwen – her friend quickly shifting to a more presentable position rather than their informal companionship. A reaction that was even more necessary than in the past, sadly, with more degrees of etiquette than ever before.

"You may enter." Lorna said, repressing her irritation.

One of Liam's – her Royal Guard's opened the door and bowed his head. "Vivianne Mistmantle has finished her morning practice, Your Highness, and wishes to join you for lunch."

"Excellent." She replied with a smile, tempering her response as she saw the other members of staff behind the guard. Palace staff, trustworthy... to a degree, but unlike the guards they would inevitably spread gossip should she act more freely. "Send her in at once."

He bowed again. "Of course, Your Highness."

The moment he stepped out of the way Vivi burst into the room, moving at a swift walk towards them – and as the door clicked shut once, more she sped up. "Gwen! You're back!" She yelled, tackling her fiancee in her seat and wrapping her up in her arms. "Can you tell me what it was about now?"

"It would be more appropriate to ask me that, Vivi." Lorna covered her mouth to hide her smile as she got it under control. "Unfortunately, it isn't a pleasant topic."

Vivi glanced between her and Gwen's unhappy expression, then frowned. "Okay." She said slowly. "Not now, then – it's been too long since we were all together! What were you talking about? It didn't sound serious outside? Gwen was whining."

"I wasn't whining!" Gwen pouted, eliciting laughs from them both.

"See!"

For a few moments Gwen fidgeted about with her arms, crossing and uncrossing them as she tried to get comfortable. Eventually she sighed and gave up, reaching up to comb through Vivi's still wet hair. "Fine. Whatever. We were talking about my inventions and... old life."

"Oh, neat." Vivi said, preening under Gwen's attention. "Earth is so weird to hear about."

"Fascinating, I would say. And somewhat embarrassing that neither of us put together that Gwen's inventions came from her old world; the pens, the spinning wheel, the sewing machine... all things she knew about and recreated with that cute and clever little head of hers."

Vivi smiled, twisting to peck Gwen on the cheek. "Such a clever and pretty little head."

Laughing at Gwen's sudden and fierce blush, Lorna kept going. "What I was wondering was what else she might have in that adorable and brilliant little head of hers. And whether she might enjoy having a budget to work with, so that they can be spread across Gilneas to the benefit of all. Perhaps we can begin with what you miss the most out of everything?"

"The great and world-spanning series of tubes through which an endless supply of cute cat pictures can be dispensed to all: The Internet." Gwen deadpanned despite her raging blush.

What?

Lorna blinked slowly and met Vivi's equally confused eyes before looking back to her smugly grinning friend. "I... can you explain in more detail?" Preferably in a way that didn't sound like the drunken ramblings of a goblin and gnome forced to work together on the same project.

"Nope!" Gwen giggled happily. "But, um, more seriously and practically? Trains, trains are cool."

Despite the absurdity of her initial choice of favourite thing, trains turned out to be remarkably easy to understand: A rather less ambitious, albeit more widely encompassing, version of the nigh-legendary Deeprun Tram that was being constructed between Ironforge and Stormwind; the business of the dwarves of Ironforge always being an accepted topic of discussion in Gilnean society.

Most had considered the tram a rather absurd undertaking, one with far too great of an expense for its benefits – though most of that grumbling had been before Gilneas had left the Alliance and had been helping to fund Stormwind's reconstruction – but one could not fault its utility. A more... practical variant, meant for transporting large loads of goods around the country rather than just between two great cities? Lorna could certainly see the potential.

To be able to transport an army from the capital to the wall, without stopping, at the speed of a cantering horse would also be of great strategic benefit. Beyond the walls themselves... perhaps as far as Dalaran and Silverlaine Keep, but beyond that too many could easily sabotage the rails.

Even the Duskrocky Peaks held Ettin who could, and would eagerly, uproot and steal lengths of iron or steel left out in the open; the ogres that now dwelled in the mountains of Alterac could undoubtedly do even worse, being just clever enough to learn to 'derail' a train.

But even if it was limited to the safety of the walls, it would be a great boon to their industry. And it was but one of the ideas she drew out of Gwen over hours of conversation. Threshing machines to reduce back-breaking labour, steam-powered ships, the importance of trees to protect farmland, a machine to plant seeds, a loom that wove patterns by itself... truly, they seemed endless and fantastical despite the absence of magic.

"It seems we'll have a lot of work ahead of us." Lorna said as Gwen sipped at a glass of water to ease her throat. "To say that you are a blessing upon Gilneas would be an understatement."

Gwen rolled her eyes at the pun even as Vivi snickered. "I've got a wolf to catch. We'll be gone for months. Then there's the rejoining the Alliance thing... unless you didn't want me there to get the Kirin Tor to agree? And then there's the worgen and curing them properly..." She started frowning, her eyes widened, and then finally she whimpered.

Unable to resist the piteous look on Gwen's face Lorna slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. "There there." She patted Gwen's head, and pressed her tighter as she struggled to escape her chest. "We'll make sure you have plenty of chances to relax... right Vivi?"

Lorna smiled beatifically at Vivi, who quite promptly, erupted with an explosion of crimson that painted her cheeks, ears, and neck the same colour as her hair.

Part of her wanted to reveal the full truth to Liam, to make clear just how valuable Gwen was to their reign... but another, possibly greater part, wished to keep her friends to herself. Teasing them was her pleasure, and she wouldn't share it.