Legend of Ransera

"Kaus might be disappointed to miss such an opportunity," she said with a quiet laugh, "but he will get over it. We both continue to train, although he has more time for it." Obviously, she spent some time at the Tranquil Gardens, but she didn't go into the work of maintaining her family zaibatsu's interests in Kalzasi proper. Financial affairs tended to bore warriors; they certainly bored Kaus. Some Avialae joked that was why women hadn't been granted wings; someone had to mind the shop. Kala tended to quietly bristle at such sexism. She would do her duty regardless, but she did feel as though she deserved wings.

"If you lack for a place to stay when you are discharged from the hospital, there are guest rooms at the Cintamani Pavilion, and we would be pleased to host you until you return home." She wasn't joking about hospitality, apparently.

"I will find a Gelerian cookbook for the kitchen so we know what to feed you other than ice cream. A fat Avialae is practically unheard of." She grinned. Even if he was laid up in the hospital for quite a while, an Avialae had to work at growing fat; whatever had been done to their metabolisms by Garel of Atoria made them quick to put on muscle and slow to put on fat. Sometimes she wished that had translated to the women, but she had enough explosive strength to make her daggers effective. She didn't need to wield a greatsword to be deadly when she needed to be.

"Do you have the equivalent of a Warren March in the Imperium? We have to prove ourselves in the Warrens before we are accounted adults. Well, the male Avialae, but I went with my brother anyway."

At his reaction, she wondered if she had misspoken, or something essential was being lost in translation. She clarified slowly.

"All those young Avialae presented themselves before the Shokaze," she said. "He bade is go into the Warrens and come back with a dragonshard." Her hand came up to touch the amulet around her neck. Kaus had taken to calling it Stormspeaker and his bracelet Stormrider, and she just went along with it good-naturedly. "There are many who are competitive. Some took issue with me for going, thinking it was improper for a girl to undergo the ritual." She shrugged. "We avoided conflict, though. My brother and I made quick friends with an Orkhan Avialae named Caden and the three of us set off together.

"We found two friends set upon by a Shinaegri... ah, twisted creatures that look like some mad necromancer took pieces of many different creatures and put them together... We helped them dispatch it and I tended as best I could to the wounds one of them had sustained, but he couldn't continue, so they retreated and we went on. Eventually, we found a pool electrified by storm gems, but my brother and I were able to protect ourselves with Caden's help and retrieve some.

"The two we met... Ceran and Indric... they went back down just this season and were successful in their Warren March. I think the setback made them smarter, stronger in the end. Now they are starting a mercenary troop." She smiled. They were starting the troop under the aegis of House Leukos, and it had taken both her and Kaus to galvanize the orphans to try again.

"But one of the chief threats to Kalzasi are the horrors of the Warrens, so young Avialae test themselves against what lies beneath. For some, they want to prove they are invincible on their own, I suppose. I think our way was better, though, to find people whose strengths and weaknesses complement our own so we can all succeed. Then there are more of us to defend Kalzasi from the Warrens."

Now she was certain something was wrong as his face changed and he clutched at his broken collar like he would strangle himself with it.

"Baudric—" But he cut her off with a scream, and then words were spilling out of him in a torrent.

She heard the rush of footsteps in the hall, and then there were people.

"Please," she said over her shoulder, "he's all right. Don't crowd him. You'll make it worse!"

Then she turned back to him, small hands with their warrior calluses held up so he could see them, empty of weapon.

"Baudric, it's all right. Please, focus on me. Focus on my voice." Telling a panicked man to calm down was never helpful, she had found. Her hand turned so that she was offering them. She didn't touch him, but offered him something to hold onto while he processed whatever trauma had come back to haunt him. There was a pang of guilt in her gut; had her attempt at kindness backfired, caused more harm than help?

Nurses and orderlies kept their backs to the wall, at least. She couldn't offer them any of her attention, though. If they attempted to pinion him, it would not go well for anyone.

"Baudric, it's me; it's Kala. You can take my hands if you need to. I'm here."

She knew they would only allow her a small respite to get through to him before they took matters into their own hands. Restraints might madden him further; sedation might help, but would likely make him more suspicious of his Kalzasern hosts than he was already.

"Shh, Vöglein." She didn't know much Kathalan, but Mistress Feada had called her that when she was young. In that moment, the giant Kathar looks like a little bird to her. She leaned in and kissed the gray-black waves of hair at the crown of his head. She didn't let go of his hands, nor shy away from his face pressed to her hands.

"He'll be fine," she said to the people behind her, not looking, hoping they would just disperse, though she would understand if they left orderlies outside the door just in case after his outburst.

But Kala didn't need to understand everything he said to recognize a trauma reaction. This seemed deeper than a demonic attack, though she supposed a clever demon might have manipulated that deeper trauma to its purposes. She feared that this was evidence of the mistreatment of her Kathar cousins in the Imperium, but she wasn't a mind-healer. She hoped she hadn't triggered this with her well-meaning time spent with him, but she began to suspect something she had said or done had led to this, but in for a penny, in for a pound. There was no extricating herself without doing further damage, she supposed.

Still murmuring soft words to him, she hoped it would be enough. His wings had flared, and held, so if the movement caused pain, it wasn't enough to feel through the adrenaline rush. If he started bleeding again, though, he would soon have to undergo the indignity of someone touching his wings again.

At least it could be her. She asked permission and was as quick and respectful about it as she could be. The other staff of the Tranquil Gardens weren't bad people, but they had their feelings about members of the Imperium.

When he stumbled upon her name, she smiled. She didn't attempt to hold onto his hands when he let go, but let hers rest upon her knee.

"I'm here," she said softly. Of course, that was obvious, but she meant emotionally, holding space for him so to speak.

As Kala listened to him apologize, she shook her head. Apologies weren't necessary, and she almost jokingly offered to run Fire and Water over him and then dry him off with Air, but he began to recount the harrowing tale of his version of the Warren March—the barbaric Trial of Broken Wings. So many of her Kathar cousins were murdered by their brethren. It was sickening, but she couldn't hate Baudric for it. All he had done was survive, answered that call that was primal to all creatures—to survive at all costs. Even his inborn kindness was used to torture him, to strip away what was good in him.

She wanted to hate the people who had done this to him, to the others, but they were faceless ideas of people, no doubt strung up in the same chains of cruelty. From whence had it come? From whom? She wasn't wise enough to decide where the blame lay; perhaps Wraedan would decide in the end.

"I don't know, Baudric," she said honestly. "We are taught that the treatment of the Kathar Avialae is barbaric, and from your story, I cannot disagree. Others have come away from the Imperium and taken up our ways—Lord Aoren, for example. But we are also encouraged to think for ourselves, and so I can only encourage you to do the same. Examine what you have witnessed here, compare it to the ways you were raised, and decide for yourself the answer to your question."

She had no words of comfort for how could anyone have words to comfort that which was told. She was right though. He needed to decide if returning to the Imperium now with the knowledge, the doubt, was worth his pride and love for his home. The fact of the matter was he was here now. He had learned something which shook the core of his understanding and now stood at a crossroad. He never stopped to question it all until he was here. Merely accepted it for what it was. What changed to have made him actually question everything he knew?

He shook his head, thoughts for another day.
"I am holding you up. It's late and I am sure the rest of the staff would be far more at ease were I to sleep. I am tired. And I am sure you could use a break after the day you have had.. and me."
As he expected Kala had many kind and caring things to allay his worries. Wishing him a restful sleep as they said their farewells. He lay in his bed mentally preparing himself that tonight was likely the last time he would see the kind Avialae woman. If not by her choice then by someone else's. Certain that Dr. Faelith would also have opinions on further dealings with her patient.

As he suspected a nurse followed by three orderlies entered the room.
"Dr. Faelith ordered to sedate you for the night. To help you sleep. As well as putting some restraints in, as a precaution to yourself and others. We won't restrain you unless we have to. These gentlemen will be staying around in shifts for the remainder of your stay." He nodded his understanding and allowed the sedation to be administered. Very soon the colorless room faded from view leaving only the churning mists of his mindscape to surround him. Looking around him there was no rosy light. No soft white light of healing. No powerful pyre of energy. Except one thing. The stone monolith back in the Imperium stood there. Partially crumbed in this place. Then he let sleep take him. The promise that tomorrow would be a new day, with nightmares tucked away.