Book 4 Chapter 26: A New Leaf
Book 4 Chapter 26: A New Leaf
++The role of magicians in much of Garamon’s greater accomplishments has likewise been overlooked, until recent generations. Their eternally advancing social status can be thanked for the new, modern understanding of its significance.++
- From ‘The History of History’.
It was not a practical reason that was bringing me back to Garamon, but an emotional one. My younger siblings were there. I would not see them for likely weeks, possibly months, once I departed for Asyran. I wanted to wish them both a proper goodbye.
The Lord Dread of old would find this sentiment terribly pathetic, perhaps even find himself driven to self-mutilation in the vain hopes of ridding himself of it. Isabel Vornholt was more measured, and just noted the effect it had on her as something to be aware of in the future.
I was received quickly upon arriving, of course, by them both. Not least because I did not fly personally this time, rather arriving by rented cloudscraper. This much was an unfortunately necessary concession. With Professor Johns, plus his own extensive set of scientific equipment, I would have found it difficult to carry my companions alone. The notion that we may need to bring back yet more items from Asyran itself made going there under my own power simply irresponsible.
The cloudscraper was slower, clumsier and lacked all of the thrill that came from free flight. To boot, it did not even seem to make Blakely any more at ease. Even still, it was necessary.
At the very least, it seemed to strike a strong impression as I stepped off the vehicle and onto my family’s estate. Victoria and Qaigor had actually beaten the servants in assembling before me, and even my mother.
“Isabel!” Qaigor grinned as I stepped forwards, while Victoria remained to his side, clearly wanting to speak but, of course, not able to do so as freely as her brother. Being the elder sibling had its drawbacks it seemed.
“Good afternoon,” I told them both. “I am here to visit you both before I leave on a trip.”
That inspired a mix of annoyed protests and curiosity from both of them about the trip in question, which I alleviated while we moved through the mansion. I set a brisk pace for my siblings to follow, noting that Victoria was struggling somewhat. Good. If it was difficult for her, then I hoped it would foil my near-forty-year-old mother’s attempts to follow me entirely. I was in no mood to speak with her.
“Why Asyran though?” Victoria asked as I finished my explanation.
“It is one of the few continents I have not gotten the chance to explore,” I explained.
“Why are you going for weeks or months then?” she pressed. “And why with your own cloudscraper? There’s holiday resorts there, father’s even gone once or twice.”
My younger sister’s perceptive nature would doubtless come in handy one day. Today, it was coming in annoying.
“There is some business I must attend there,” I said evenly.
“Business important enough for you to not tell us at first,” Qaigor laughed. “What are you doing?!”
“It is none of your business,” I snapped.
“You always told us to ask questions and learn whenever we could,” Victoria pointed out.
“Or do you want us to stop thinking?” Qaigor added. Apparently the two of them, as Agrian and I once did, had learned to start working together when prudent. Horrid.
“I am not going to explain anymore,” I told them both. “This is my business, not yours.”
Qaigor scowled at that. “I fought to defend your refinery, I can handle it.”
Victoria, I noted, remained quiet, but I thought she had no less claim to maturity than her brother after the kidnapping.
But my response was interrupted when a servant approached nervously.
“Lady Isabel,” he smiled. “It is wonderful to see you back at the manor. I’m terribly sorry to cut into your reunion with Lord Qaigor and Lady Victoria, but Baron Agrian has called on you.”
I blinked in surprise. My father?
“Very…well then,” I said evenly. “Take me to him.”
The man did, setting a swift pace as if he was trying to avoid my mother as well. We reached my father’s study and he stood outside it as I made my way in.
The room was darker than when last I had seen it, though my new warrior’s eyes were powerful enough that I could still—barely—make out the section of wall that had once been broken by my flinging the Baron against it. The Baron in question currently sat behind his desk.
He looked thinner than I was used to seeing him, and seemed to have aged several years in as many months. His hair, once as black as pitch, was finally starting to streak through with grey.
“Isabel,” he smiled. I was surprised by that. Not to see him smile at all of course, the Baron had always done so. But this one seemed different. It was wary and weak, seeming to exaggerate the lines on his face rather than hide them.
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“Father,” I replied evenly.
“Hold that thought,” he sighed, drawing up a cane and planting its tip on the ground as he forced himself to stand. Missing a leg, the motion may have been difficult for most men. My father, of course, was still a warrior of the third order despite it all, and would likely have managed it with ease even had he been forced to do so with myself, all my siblings and our mother resting upon his shoulders, with a carriage horse for good measure.
He began pacing, his cane tapping the ground in lieu of a second foot. I noted that he was managing quite a bit of speed despite his obvious handicap.
“I’ve known men who lost their legs,” he grunted by way of explanation. “They tend to gain the weight back in fat, if you catch my meaning. Not this old soldier. I imagine I’ll lose the creeping battle with time eventually, but if I have my way I’ll be in my damned seventies before getting a pot belly.”
I could not help but smile at that. My father had always possessed a tendency to bypass objects with the use of his head.
As a bludgeoning instrument, that was.
“I assume you called on me to talk about something other than your exercise habits,” I noted.
He faltered, growing more serious. “...Yes, I did.” He seemed to be growing more uncomfortable by the moment, pacing faster as if to give himself some outlet for the emotion. Finally he stopped, turning to me and meeting my eyes in what felt like a forced, difficult gesture. “Isabel, I…I should have told you this a long time ago. I should, frankly, have never stopped telling you this. But I think at least it’s better late than never. I’m proud of you. Of everything about you. I know I…have been an obstacle to you, and I regret nothing more.” He winced. “...almost nothing more. But for whatever it’s worth now, I truly am amazed and proud of all you have achieved.”
It was not, in fact, worth much. This was not due to any personal disliking I had taken to the man, but rather part of a more general fact that I had never valued the opinions of others to any especially great degree.
My sense of accomplishment and esteem was entirely unaffected, at least. But I found that something in his words touched my heart. I was forced to finally accept that I did care for the man who had fathered this new body, at least somewhat. Perhaps that was where the unique heat of my anger had always come from.
“Thank you,” I said stiffly.
He did not appear pleased with the response. “I…understand that this is too little too late,” he said weakly.
“Good,” I told him. My father’s eyes shone with pain.
“Isabel, please, there has to be something I can do. It can’t…this can’t all just be mistakes in the past. I can’t have already missed every chance.”
It was revoltingly pathetic. But somehow it inspired pity in me all the same. I really was becoming soft.
“Your effect on me was limited,” I told him after a moment. “Your effect on Victoria and Qaigor was far worse. Agrian too. All of them grew up under you and looked to you for inspiration. For a father. If you want to find the worst of your failures, look to them…Fortunately, Qaigor and Victoria have not quite finished growing yet.”
Thirteen and fourteen was, I noted privately, old enough that the majority of the damage had already been done. I did not even know why I was bothering with this. Caring about the people close to me led to strange and paradoxical urges, it seemed. This would not make either of my siblings stronger or safer, and yet I still felt compelled to do it.
“You’re right,” my father sighed at last. “Thank you for your honesty.”
I just shrugged. “It was good to see you again,” I said after a moment. “And it is nice to finally have it be good to see you.”
My father winced, but grinned as he did. “I deserved that,” he sighed.
We were interrupted by a sound from outside the office. I whirled around as I heard barking arguments flying one way and the other, then turned a questioning look to my father.
“I don’t know either,” he shrugged, making his way to the door. I was not nearly the warrior he was—yet—but I had the advantage of possessing more legs than I did heads, and used it to beat him through the door.
The argument was apparently between Victoria and my mother, both of whom were staring each other down outside the door to my father’s office. Victoria was literally red in the face with how much she had been screaming, and my mother was not looking anything close to happy herself. Neither seemed to notice me emerge.
“You let Isabel go!” Victoria yelled.
“And it turned her into a freak!” my mother shrieked, seeming to notice me only then. She faltered. “Isabel, I—”
“Where does Victoria want to go?” I asked, having no interest in her apology, caring only about the debate being had. I also was fairly sure I knew the answer to my own question already.
“The Winzorth Institute,” Victoria told me while my mother scrambled for words.
My guess was correct then. “And what is the problem?” I asked my mother.
She seemed to have recovered from her embarrassment now, and sighed. “The problem is that I don’t want Victoria to miss her chance at normalcy, as you did, Isabel. I want her to have the chance to grow up into a proper lady. I’m sorry for calling you a freak, but your talent…it was all we had to bail us out of an impossible financial situation. Victoria doesn’t have that pressure, she doesn’t need to do this.”
“But she seems to want to,” I noted.
My mother scowled, growing frustrated. “Because her big sister did, and now she thinks that’s what a proper lady ought to do.”
“No I don’t,” Victoria cut in with a frown. “I just think proper ladies are stupid and don’t want to be one. Isabel made millions being an improper one.”
My mother scoffed, drawing herself up into a haughty air and preparing, I could see, to give what she no-doubt thought would be a verbal thrashing. I prepared to meet it; if my very presence had re-ignited this argument, then the least I could do was settle it the proper way.
But I did not get the chance to do so.
“If Victoria wants to go to Winzorth,” a new voice rang out. “Then she will.” We all turned to see my father stepping out of his study, still leaning on his cane but with eyes like fire.
My mother was the first to recover from the shock.
“Agrian, we agreed—”
“We agreed to do what was best for her,” he cut in. “And I think what is best for Victoria is…being allowed to decide her own fate.”
My mother’s face was bright red, and she trembled like it was a physical effort on her part not to start screaming and breaking things. Eventually, after a few moments of this, she just wordlessly turned and stormed off, leaving my father and sister alone. Victoria was beaming, of course.
My father, though, did not look especially happy. Good. This was nothing more than a first step, as far as I was concerned. Only time would tell if he did more than the bare minimum.