Rebirth of the Nephilim

“I’ll kill her. I will. I don’t care if she’s a count, but I’ll bloody well gut the bitch.”

“Still mad?” Syd asked mildly with one eyebrow raised.

“No, I’m not fucking bloody well still mad!” Bridget snapped. “I’m furious! Livid! Burning with vengeance-soaked rage! Who in all the fucking skies of the world does that woman think she is!?”

“Countess Voclain, apparently,” Syd commented as she watched her orc lover vent. “Whatever that might mean.”

“Don’t tease me right now, Syd,” Bridget pointed a finger at the Nephilim’s face. “I’m not in the bloody mood for any shit-wit banter right now.”

“My wit is not shit,” Syd countered before taking hold of Bridget’s hand and using it to pull her in close for a hug. “But I don’t blame you. This is all my fault. I’m sorry your family was pulled into this.”

“It’s not your fault other people are assholes,” Bridget said, her word muffled as she pressed her face against Syd’s torso.

“I’m still sorry,” Syd repeated as she stroked the back of Bridget’s head, causing her braid to come loose. “And I’m going to fix it. Somehow.”

“I know you will,” Bridget murmured quietly. Then, with a stronger tone, “Let me go, though. Hugging your armor is like hugging a boulder.”

“Sorry,” Syd laughed as she released her hold on her warrior woman. “We need to get going, anyway. Everyone’s waiting for us in the yard.”

“Right,” Bridget said as she straightened out her braid and picked up her helmet. “Let’s get out of this city before some other terrible piece of news drops on our heads.”

The two quickly made their way out of their bedroom where Syd had found Bridget ranting at the air and headed for the storage yard where the rest of their companions were already waiting. It was early in the morning, the sun just barely above the horizon, yet they had all been up for hours getting ready for their first real flight. Despite the news that Elodie had passed to them, the initial plan hadn’t changed. Fortune’s Favored was still taking a trip to Thea’s home village. What had changed, though, was the length of the trip. While they were still going to Thea’s home to visit her mother, the flight plan had been extended. Bridget’s hometown was in the same approximate direction as Thea’s village, so they were going to head that way after briefly stopping by Thea’s home.

As mad as Bridget was about the threat to her family, which was an anger also echoed by everyone else in their group, the situation wasn’t dire. Elodie had been right to say that there was no immediate urgency. No one in Bridget’s clan was about to die and none of them were even in any debt to the woman. Not yet, anyway. Countess Voclain, despite the title, just didn’t have that much power over Clan Warsong.

Bridget’s hometown was called Brightstone. The small town was further east and a little north of where Thea was from by a couple of weeks of normal travel, putting it firmly in the large ring of territories most called the heartlands of the empire. Brightstone was largely a farming community that did a fair bit of trade because it was located along a busy road that many traders and caravans used on their trek between the capital and other major cities. Brightstone was under the banner of Count Holtz, who was himself a vassal of Duke Messer, an old-fashioned and conservative noble who was one of Prince Hraustrekr’s supporters, though not a particularly outspoken one.

Countess Voclain was a vassal to Duke Poirot, another conservative nobleman who supported the first prince more out of tradition than any strong political stance. Countess Voclain did not have any control over Brightstone. In fact, her family had a long-standing feud with Count Holtz as their territories neighbored each other and the two had often fought over their borders. So, while the countess was certainly an influential figure in the small region, she wasn’t truly all that powerful in the grand scheme of things, nor was she in a strong position to directly go after Clan Warsong.

Those facts hadn’t stopped her from trying, though.

While Elodie didn’t have all the details, what she was able to tell Jadis was that Countess Voclain was using some form of the old-standing border dispute to go after Bridget’s family in a legal contest. Count Holtz should have been Clan Warsong’s protection, but it seemed that wasn’t happening. The reasons behind the count’s lack of support could be many, but the most likely cause was pressure coming down on him from above.

Of course, Elodie would never suggest that Prince Hraustrekr had anything to do with the attempt at extortion. In fact, all political doubletalk aside, she doubted the prince had more than tangential knowledge of the plot. If the scheme worked, he would benefit, but if it failed, it was best that he had distance from it. No, Hraustrekr was not behind the plot, nor were either of the dukes who were allowing it to happen on their watch. This attack on Bridget’s family as a means to get at Jadis was the brainchild of Countess Voclain’s cousin, one General Egilhard.

“I’ll kill him,” Bridget mumbled under her breath as she stalked up to the Behemoth. “I swear. I’m going to tear his eyeballs out through his fat nose.”

Syd sighed in frustration. Not at what Bridget was saying; she wholeheartedly agreed with her lover and would hold the idiot general down while Bridget did her thing. Her sigh came from the growing irritation Jadis was feeling towards not just Egilhard, but towards the whole imperial political landscape.

It was easy to blame Egilhard. The man was a power-hungry, hypocritical sycophant with less than half the brains than he thought he had. However, in Jadis’ opinion, the real issue was the feud between Hraustrekr and Kestil. It was their fight for the throne that enabled Egilhard to make his idiotic attempts at grabbing power. It was also their fight that encouraged nobles like Duke Messer and Duke Poirot to look the other way when their vassals engaged in some tomfuckery, all because the situation might result in some brownie points they could use when dealing with one prince if he became emperor. But on the off chance that the other prince gained the throne, well, then they had the ability to point the finger elsewhere.

Not their fault, no, not at all! It was just unruly lesser counts who were stirring up trouble.

Jadis didn’t think it was her responsibility to fix the empire’s problems. She didn’t have a clue where she would even start on a project like that. But the emperor had asked her for help settling the differences between his two sons. Maybe there was something she could do on that end, eventually? Certainly, if there was no more benefit to come from attacking those who supported Prince Kestil, then men like Egilhard would have more reason to leave Jadis and her family alone. That was a strong reason for Jadis to consider Somerulf’s request, if nothing else.

“We’re all packed,” Aila told Jay as she settled onto her seat at the front of the wagon. “Are you ready to go?”

Jay and Syd both checked around either side of the huge wagon, making sure that nothing had been dropped. While they did so, Dys did a quick sweep of the area around the backdoor.

“Looks like we got everything,” Jay told Aila as she slapped her gauntleted hand against the side of the wagon a couple of times. “So long as Kerr remembered to bring her extra pair of boots.”

“Bien sûr, j’ai apporté mes bottes.,” Kerr’s voice echoed from inside of the wagon. “What do I look like, an idiot?”

“Well actually—”

“Shut the fuck up, cock monkey.”

“Cock monkey? What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out!”

Listening to the muffled argument, Jadis had to wonder if having Kerr and Sorcha stuffed together into a small space for a long period of time was a good idea.

“Alright, we’re good to go,” Jay shook her head. “So long as you are, Tegwyn?”

“All set!” The smiling Dryad said as he finished adjusting the harness on the giant magical goats that would be pulling the wagon out of the city. “I am ready to depart!”

“Good,” Jay nodded as the man leapt up onto the wagon and slipped through the door to the interior. “Gunnar! You’re in charge while we’re gone. We’ll be back in a week, maybe two at the worst. If it looks like we’ll be gone longer, we’ll send word.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gunnar gave her a salute from his spot at the back door where he and the rest of Fortune’s Favored were gathered. “We will hold down the fort.”

“Don’t forget to check on that Demon regularly,” Aila cautioned as she took up the reins. “It’s locked up, but I don’t want you all to take any risks.”

“They’ll be fine,” Syd assured her redheaded lover. “Besides, it looked pretty occupied with that bowl of oats we gave it. Hopefully that’ll keep the little bugger entertained while we’re gone.”

“I’m not worried about the Demon being entertained…” Aila muttered. “I’m worried about it escaping.”

“The Demon and the rest of our home are in good hands,” Jay told Aila as she started walking towards the front of the wagon. “Everything will be just the way we left it when we get back.”

“Fuck, that sounded like a red flag,” Dys cursed. “Quick, knock on wood.”

“Who the fuck is knocking?” Kerr shouted from inside the wagon.

“Forget it!” Dys shouted back. “Let’s just get going before something else happens!”

Without further ado, the wagon set off.

While Jadis had initially planned on just pulling the wagon out of the city herself, Eir had vetoed the idea. With her very public position, Eir didn’t think it was a good idea for Jadis to pull her own wagon around like a pack mule. Jadis had dismissed the concern, but arguments from literally everyone else, including one made by Severina during a short visit, convinced her that she did need to think about her public image, at least when she was in the capital city and had other options to avail herself of.

Since the four Stone Crusher Goats weren’t coming with them, that meant someone had to be around to lead them back to the stables. That job fell onto Vikwas, Aila’s father, who was waiting for them at the city gates. However, when they got to the gates, it wasn’t just the quiet man waiting for them.

“Mother! Father!” Eir cried out as she leapt off the tall wagon to run and hug her parents. “You didn’t need to come for this.”

“Of course we did,” Svana said with a soft smile. “Even if you’re only going on a short trip, we are going to be sure to see you off properly.”

“We will pray for your safe journey,” Einer said solemnly as he eyed the large, bundled up balloon on top of the wagon.

“As will we,” Senta said as she kissed Aila on the cheek a few feet away. “We’ll pray for all of you, every day, to all the gods.”

“Thank you,” Aila said with a smile as she kissed her mother back. “Both of you, stay safe.”

While Jadis watched the two couples dote on their daughters, she had her Syd self focus on the last person who had turned up waiting at the gates.

“So, are you going to be praying for us every day, too?”

“I already pray for you every day,” Severina said with a straight face. “Along with everyone else in your band of misfits.”

“I knew you cared,” Syd joked as she grinned at the armored Seraphim. “Nice of you to see us off like this, though. Are you going to give me a goodbye kiss?”

“No,” the paladin said flatly as she reached with her one hand to pick a tightly packed bundle out of the carriage she had been standing next to. “Because I did not come to see you off. I came to join you.”

“What?” Syd asked, her surprise causing her voice to go up in pitch.

With perfect accuracy, Severina tossed her packed bag into Syd’s arms, who caught it on reflex.

“I’m coming. You’re about to fly over a long distance for the first time, and you’re going to be navigating political matters that you barely understand. I would say that I am in a unique position to aid you with both endeavors.”

“You really want to come?” Syd asked, still shocked by the unexpected turn of events. “Kestil is letting you? He doesn’t need you here?”

“I am a Paladin of Valtar first, before I am a servant of the empire,” Severina said primly as she pulled herself up onto the front of the wagon. “I go where I can best serve his will. Besides. Prince Kestil has a vested interest in making sure you and your companions come back alive, now that he wants your flight enchantments.”

“Good to know,” Syd let out a huff of amusement as the Seraphim pushed open the door to the wagon and made her way inside.

“Oh, fuck, who let you in here!?”

“Shut up, Kerr.”