Chapter 138: Interlude: Corinne
Corinne stood in the doorway of the Adventurer's Hall, the pastry's wax paper crinkling in her fingers as her grip tightened. The sounds of the common room faded behind the rush of blood in her ears. She saw only a silent tableau in the middle of the room.
Cal stood between two of the most beautiful women Corinne had ever seen.
Cal, who she hadn't seen in over a week. Cal, who she had spent three hours this morning working up the courage to find, rehearsing what she'd say, how she'd bridge the gap that had opened between them.
She'd brought a honey-cake. From Leo. Because Leo missed him even if he wouldn't admit it, and she'd thought it was a kind gesture, a way in; an excuse to finally close the distance.
Is this where he's been? With... them?
She'd told herself Cal was busy. Training, or working. That he would come around when he was ready.
Is that why he hasn't even come by to see if Leo was okay?
The Mycari girl leaned closer to Cal and said something Corinne couldn't hear. She smiled like sunlight through a canopy.
Corinne felt a tug of envy behind her ribs. Envy of their clothes, their poise, their easy confidence in a room full of rough-edged adventurers. That was all. It had to be all, because the alternative was something she refused to examine. It was Cal, for goodness sake.
I should just turn around and go. He's clearly busy, and I look like—
Then she saw his face.
His expression was one she had seen on cornered animals behind the inn: the foxes that sometimes got trapped in the woodshed. He spotted her, and his whole body changed. Relief broke across his features like dawn through clouds. He actually stammered.
"C-Corinne! I was just thinking about you! How have you been doing?"
Oh, Cal.
She'd known this boy, this man, whatever he was now, since before she could remember. She'd bandaged his split lips when Rufan's fists found their mark. She'd hidden him in the inn's root cellar when that drunk lout had come looking and lied to the man about where his son had gone. She had watched Cal transform from a frightened, hollow-eyed boy into someone she barely recognized, someone who fought monsters and spoke with the quiet authority of a person three times his age.
She wasn't going to let two pretty dresses drive her away from her friend. Corinne squared her shoulders, fixed a smile onto her face that was only slightly brittle around the edges, and strode forward.
"Cal! There you are!" She aimed for bright and breezy. It came out a pinch too high, but whatever; close enough. "I've been looking all over for you!"
Astrin turned to regard her with the enthusiasm of someone discovering a stain on new upholstery. She swept Corinne from messy ponytail to scuffed work boots in a complete dismissal.
"We are in the middle of something," Astrin said coldly.
"Astrin is settling a debt!" Cal said quickly. Much too quickly. "She's taking me to an armorer to replace my old kit."
Corinne blinked. "A debt?"
"A personal matter," Astrin clarified, trying to end the conversation.
Corinne looked at Cal. He stared at her, wide-eyed, the plea in his expression so loud she could practically hear it.
"That sounds fascinating… mind if I tag along?"
Astrin opened her mouth, and Corinne could see the refusal forming; but Cal beat her to the punch.
"Great idea!" Cal said, stepping closer and dislodging Lyraethis with a shift of his shoulder that looked almost accidental. "The more the merrier! Let's go."
Astrin's mouth closed and a muscle in her jaw spasmed. The Mycari girl, on the other hand, turned to Corinne with a warm smile that reached her eyes.
"I, for one, am glad for more company. I am Lyraethis Sapwright."
"Corinne Hearthsong."
"Oh, the innkeeper's daughter! I have heard your family's establishment is one of the finest in the village."
"We do okay." Corinne found herself smiling back. It was hard not to. The Mycari girl radiated a sincere, gentle kindness that seemed completely at odds with every other noble Corinne had ever served. "Your dress is beautiful, by the way."
"Thank you. It was woven by my mother." Lyraethis twirled a bit to show it off. "She would be pleased to hear it appreciated."
They moved toward the exit. Astrin led without looking back, her stride brisk and all business. Corinne fell into step beside Cal, and the proximity felt both natural and strange, like putting on a favorite coat and finding it no longer fit quite the same way.
The streets of Deadfall were slick with the morning's rain, puddles reflecting the gray winter sky in dark mirrors. As they walked, Astrin spoke without turning.
"By the way Valorn, congratulations on your ascension. The debt, however, was incurred while you were F-tier and using F-tier equipment. It is only fair that you be provided with replacements equivalent to what was lost."
Cal hummed briefly with his mouth closed, then replied, "Only F-tier? Are things really that tight for House Kaelix? I didn't realize. If you're short on coin, just say so. I'm sure we can work something out."
Corinne stared. The old Cal would have mumbled out an apology and accepted whatever was offered, grateful for the scraps. This new Cal… he was poking at the pride of this noblewoman like it was a harmless game.
Astrin glanced back over her shoulder, her expression unchanged. "The damage occurred to F-tier equipment. The replacement will match what was damaged."
"Right, right, match the equipment…" Cal said, nodding agreeably. "And I'll be sure to tell everyone who asks that House Kaelix couldn't afford to outfit an E-tier adventurer in F-tier gear. No worries."
Corinne saw her opening and took it.
"He's right," she said, stepping up beside him. "And it's not just about appearances, is it? He lost time. Valuable time he spent without proper equipment because of what happened."
Astrin stopped walking, the Kaelix heir slowly turning around with a slight scowl on her face. She studied Cal, then Corinne, and Corinne held her ground, though her heartbeat quickened under those hard eyes.
"You," Astrin said, looking at Corinne, "are remarkably bold for someone who was not invited."
"I'm remarkably bold for someone who was invited, too," Corinne replied cheerily.
A sound that might have been a laugh escaped Lyraethis, quickly hidden behind a delicate cough.
"Tell you what," Cal interjected, his tone still light. "If you think F-tier gear is a fair settlement, how about we fight for it? I've finally been able to get rid of my handicap and have been looking for an excuse to go all out. If I win, you upgrade the kit to E-tier. If you win, the F-tier gear stands, and I never bring it up again. What do you say?"
The street around them went quiet. A merchant leading a handcart gave them a wide berth, eyeing the nobles warily.
Corinne held her breath.
Something shifted behind Astrin's eyes. Corinne had seen that look before on merchants in the common room working out whether a deal favored them. The answer, whatever it was, left Astrin dissatisfied.
"Basic E-tier equipment," Astrin said, each word bitten off cleanly. "Nothing fancy."
"Wonderful! Honor to House Kaelix!" Cal exclaimed with a grin.
Astrin frowned the slightest frown, then turned and resumed walking.
Corinne exhaled slowly, her heart hammering. She glanced at Cal and found him watching Astrin's retreating back with an expression she couldn't read. Satisfaction, maybe. Layered over something deeper and more patient. He caught her looking and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Thanks for the backup there, Corinne. Nicely done."
"Anytime."
They entered Deadfall's noble district where the buildings stood taller and cleaner, their timber dark and freshly stained. Even the gutters ran clearer. Corinne had delivered orders in the area before, but she'd always kept her head down on the sides of the streets. Walking through the middle felt like trespassing.
The silence between everyone was awkward, broken only by the slap of boots and shoes on stone. Lyraethis, apparently immune to tension, broke the quiet.
"I understand you two have known each other since childhood." She addressed the statement to both of them, her tone light and curious. "That must be a comfort, having someone who knew you before all of this."
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"He used to trip over his own feet," Corinne said before she could stop herself. "Constantly."
"I had a growth spurt," Cal said flatly.
"You had six growth spurts! In two years! You were like a baby deer learning to walk, except the deer eventually figured it out and you just kept—"
"Thank you, Corinne."
Lyraethis laughed, a musical sound that drew a reluctant smile from Corinne despite everything. The Mycari girl had a warmth about her that made conversation feel effortless.
"What about you, Lyraethis?" Corinne asked. "You seem to know so much about us… tell us a bit about yourself."
"It's only natural that I would look into the second-place finalist of the Reaping Tournament and his friends! The young hero who slays goblins and defeats nobles; it's all anyone talks about in our social circle these days. But I'd be happy to tell you about myself, of course. I come from an old family of woodweavers," Lyraethis offered, as though sharing a secret. "It's a Mycari discipline used to shape living wood through magic. It is an older, quieter path than what most people associate with my people." A shadow of something crossed her face. "Many Mycari now feel they must follow the martial traditions, like the warrior's path. There is pressure to fight, to prove strength and reclaim what was lost. The gentler arts are sometimes seen as... lesser."
Corinne thought of the Mycari she had known. The contrast with Lyraethis was so stark it almost hurt.
Cal perked up. "Was your family involved in building the festival arena? The Reaping grounds?"
Lyraethis brightened. "Yes! My mother and uncle led the shaping of the entire thing! Though the excavation and foundation were done by a Legion siege mage who was sent in via Courier." She paused, then added with quiet pride, "The arena has been grown by my family for nineteen years without a single structural failure."
"That's incredible! I've been developing some interest in magic myself, but I'm still in the early stages."
"Oh? What can you do?"
Cal raised his right hand and quickly drew some glowing runes in the air. In less than two seconds a sphere of white light appeared, casting gentle illumination across his fingers and the underside of his jaw.
Corinne went still.
She knew he could do magic. Had witnessed him use it to blind the Mycari ambushers and ultimately kill Narbok. But this was the first time she had seen him use it so casually, and it was something else entirely. The orb floated between them, shining and beautiful, turning the winter-gray street into a scene from one of the adventure stories she'd grown up hearing in the common room. It painted Lyraethis's jade skin in white highlights and made even Astrin glance sideways, though the Kaelix girl remained carefully disinterested.
Corinne noticed herself smoothing the front of her work apron with her free hand. She stopped, fingers curling.
Lyraethis clapped her hands together delightedly. "A [Light Orb]! And so stable. You have a steady hand with Mana, Cal Valorn."
"I've been working hard at it." He dismissed the orb with a flick of his wrist, and it winked out soundlessly. "Speaking of magic, can I ask you something? How are you and Astrin not freezing right now? Those dresses are lovely, but they're not exactly winter wear."
Lyraethis and Astrin exchanged a look. It was brief, lasting barely a heartbeat, but Corinne caught it: a shared look that carried the comfortable shorthand of people who inhabited a different world. A world of silk dresses and private armorers and magic learned as casually as Corinne had learned to pour ale. Lyraethis seemed to recognize she had been caught and offered a slightly sheepish smile.
"It is a bit ironic that you can cast a formal Spell with runes, but haven't learned the simplest trick most magic practitioners figure out in their first winter after Awakening."
"What can I say, I'm mostly self-taught. There are probably a bunch of gaps in my knowledge."
"And that is admirable. What you will learn in time is that you do not need runes for every little thing. Some applications of Mana are simple enough that you can do them safely inside your spirit. In this case, we are circulating a small amount beneath our skin with nothing more than Intent to create heat. It requires only a trickle."
"Only Intent…" Cal repeated. His eyes had gone distant and unfocused. An expression Corinne had recently come to recognize from this new, more mature Cal, as him being deep in thought. "Thanks… that's really interesting. I've not been able to figure out how to cast anything safely inside my spirit yet. Maybe this will help?"
"It might, but the ability to cast a Spell internally or not just really comes down to practice. Sure, there are training methods to help speed you along, but the true key is mastery. When a Spell reaches the Expert rank - sometimes sooner for the exceptionally talented - the caster has internalized the spellwork so completely that it becomes instinctive. That mastery is the key to getting the Spell to manifest safely outside of one's spirit; when the Spell becomes as natural as breathing."
Corinne couldn't help but note the fervent light that appeared in his eyes.
The Gilded armory that was their destination occupied a three-story stone building at the district's center. Its sign was wrought iron shaped into crossed swords, and the windows displayed mannequins wearing armor that gleamed under enchantment. An attendant in a pressed red tunic opened the door before they reached it.
Inside, display cases lined the walls, each lit from within and showing armor sets arranged artfully. Plush chairs stood near a low table where a bottle of wine and crystal glasses sat beside a tray of dried fruits and smoked meats.
Astrin spoke briefly with the head attendant, a thin man with immaculate posture, and gestured toward Cal.
What followed was the most absurdly entertaining thing Corinne had witnessed in months.
Cal was measured, assessed, and then shuttled into a changing room with the first of what proved to be many, many sets of armor. Corinne found herself ushered into one of the chairs by Lyraethis, who poured her a glass of wine without asking and settled beside her.
The first set Cal emerged in was functional enough, with dark brown leather with standard iron reinforcement, but Astrin dismissed it immediately. The second was too bulky across the shoulders. The third had a collar that Cal said restricted his neck movement too much.
By the sixth set, Corinne had her legs crossed under her in the oversized chair and a second glass of surprisingly good wine in hand. She shared the plate of dried fruits with Lyraethis while they watched Cal grow increasingly resigned, laughing and commenting all the while.
Corinne watched his face and saw that distant look he got sometimes, like he'd stepped somewhere behind his own eyes. He seems like he's a million miles away. Poor Cal. He must be so embarrassed.
It was strange. In the past, every uncomfortable thing the world had thrown at him he'd always fidgeted or deflected, cracked a joke three seconds before he needed to. This patience was new. She wasn't sure yet if it was strength or just a very convincing impression of it.
"Is she always like this?" Corinne whispered, nodding toward Astrin, who was now circling Cal with the intensity of a hawk appraising a mouse.
Lyraethis considered the question and responded diplomatically. "Astrin Kaelix pursues perfection in all things. Especially in herself. When she extends effort on someone else's behalf, even reluctantly, she wouldn't allow herself to accept a result that falls short of her standards. But don't think of it as kindness, precisely. It is..." She searched for the word. "More like integrity."
"That seems like a generous way to put it."
"Ha! She is a generous person, in her way. She simply does not wish anyone to know it."
Cal emerged again, this time in a set of segmented leather plates that looked like fish scales. Astrin studied him for three full seconds and said, "Absolutely not."
"Aw come on, this one moves really well. What's wrong with it?"
"It is far too ugly."
Corinne snorted wine up her nose.
Lyraethis patted her back gently while Corinne coughed, and when their eyes met they both dissolved into quiet, helpless laughter. Cal shot them a betrayed look from the platform, which only made it worse. Even the attendants were struggling to maintain their composure.
Three more sets followed. One was too stiff in the torso. Another had reinforced gauntlets that Cal said limited his grip. The final rejected set was, by Corinne's estimation, perfectly fine in every way, but Astrin declared the stitching pattern "an eyesore," which prompted a visible twitch from the head attendant.
Then Cal stepped out in the last set, and Corinne had to do a double take.
The armor was black leather, form-fitting and minimal, tailored to follow the lines of his body from head to toe without an excess strap or buckle. Dark reinforcement panels protected his forearms, shins, and the vital points of his torso and head, their surfaces treated to a matte finish that absorbed light. Every piece fit like it had been made for him.
He looked… dangerous. And capable.
Like someone she barely recognized anymore.
Astrin walked a slow circle around him, cataloging every seam and joint. She stopped in front of him, finally gave an approving nod, and addressed the attendant.
"This one will do. Bill it to my family's account."
Outside, the winter air felt refreshing to Corinne's flushed cheeks. Cal exited behind her, adjusting the fit of his new armor and slung bow. Astrin turned to face Cal, staring at him intently.
"This settles the matter, Valorn. We are square."
"Indeed, it does. Thank you, Astrin. This is a fine set of armor."
She held his stare a moment longer. "Your suggested spar shall be merely postponed. When I reach E-tier, I intend to collect."
"Anytime, anywhere," he replied with a fierce grin.
Lyraethis stepped forward and took both of his hands in hers, and Corinne was glad to note she didn't feel the envious tug behind her ribs again.
"You are welcome to visit our estate anytime, Cal. My mother would be fascinated to hear your thoughts on magic. We could discuss theory at length, if you like."
"I'd like that very much. Thank you, Lyraethis."
The Mycari girl squeezed his hands once, then released them and turned to Corinne. "It was lovely meeting you, Corinne Hearthsong. You are an honor to your family."
"Come stop by the inn sometime," Corinne heard herself say. "I'll save you a good table."
Lyraethis smiled, and the two ladies departed down the street, dresses swishing in the winter breeze. Then it was just Cal and Corinne standing in the cold.
They walked in silence for a time.
The noble district gave way to the main thoroughfare, and the more uneven placement of Deadfall's typical cobblestones.
They passed a small general goods store near the market square. The door was propped open despite the chill, and a warm draft carried the unmistakable scent of cinnabark across the street, the smell so deeply familiar that it stopped Corinne mid-stride.
"Do you remember that shop?" she said, nodding toward it. "When I was eight, I fell off the barrel stack behind Hemlock's. You spent the only coin you had on a candy from in there, just to get me to stop crying." She smiled at the memory. "Told me you'd eat it yourself if I didn't."
Cal nodded. His expression was steady, and behind it she found the young man he'd become; measured and guarded, carrying burdens she could sense but not see.
"It worked, didn't it? You always had a sweet tooth."
All she could do was smile wider as they kept walking.
A few minutes later, the Hearthsong's gabled roof came into view above the surrounding buildings.
"You were very patient back there," Corinne said, keeping her tone light. "With all the modeling and stuff. I think the attendants were ready to stage a revolt by the end."
The corner of Cal's mouth twitched. "A small price to pay for the upgrade. I don't think it would have gone like that if I hadn't pressured Astrin in the first place, and she was paying me back for it." He glanced at her with a face full of gratitude. "But I couldn't have done it without your help. Seriously, Cor. Thank you for stepping in back there. With Astrin. I think you were the push she needed."
"Someone has to have your back."
Corinne reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the wax-paper package. It was thoroughly crushed, the careful wrapping now a crumpled, misshapen lump. She held it up between them.
"This was a honey-cake. From Leo." She turned it over in her hand. "It didn't survive the trip. I think I may have squeezed it to death back in the Hall when I saw..." She waved vaguely in the direction they had come from. "You know."
Cal looked at the ruined pastry, and something shifted in his features.
"Some days… just don't go as planned," she continued. "We've missed you, Cal. Leo's been quiet, more so than usual. And I..." She trailed off, pressing her lips together. "I just wish you would come around again."
He said nothing for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was steady, but she heard the pain beneath it.
"I've been working on something night and day the past week. A project. For Mira, originally, but it's going to help Leo too." He met her eyes. "I'll come get you in a few days when it's finished. I want you there when I show them."
Corinne searched his face for any sign that he was deflecting, offering another vague promise to buy himself more distance. Only conviction looked back.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
She held his eyes for a beat longer, then let the tension in her shoulders unwind. A smile crept across her lips.
"Fine," she said, tucking the honey-cake mess back into her pocket. "But I'm holding you to it. And Cal?"
"Yeah?"
She punched his shoulder lightly, just hard enough to make a point. "It's a date."
Cal closed his eyes and groaned.