IX. Aren’t You an Angel

When he saw her, he scarcely recognized her. She had a certain grace about her, a confidence that he’d not seen before. Rémann set down his coffee and stood from the small table. Smartly dressed as always, Alice had her hair pinned up, and sported a pair of square rimmed ceramic eye-glasses. She was in conference with one of the mages, a young man in his early twenties who looked to her with deference, jotting down every word she said.

Rémann approached slowly, still not certain it was really her. It had been ten long years since they last saw one another. She had been an impetuous young girl, compounded by wealth and privilege. The young man shot him an annoyed look as he approached, catching her attention. Rémann froze mid-step, his arm outstretched. He saw a plethora of emotion cross her face in an instant. Her ire at the rude interruption, a tilt of the head, a spark of recognition, tears of joy at a familiar face in a faraway land. Before he could even stammer a word, she had leapt into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck in a full embrace.

The young mage she had been speaking to stood by awkwardly for several moments, eventually choosing to excuse himself quietly. Rémann felt her tears on her cheek as she sobbed silently. He raised his arms, hanging uselessly at his sides, and returned her embrace. The warm welcome was quite a shock. While they had essentially grown up together, his role had always been that of the servant. Her response was shocking, though by no means unwelcome.

After several moments that felt like hours, she stepped back, holding him at arm’s length. Her electric green eyes sparkled as she flashed a radiant smile. Rémann averted his gaze with a goofy grin. Her exuberence at his arrival had caught him completely unprepared.

“Master Rémann,” Alice began shrewdly, a curious glint of amusement in her eyes and on her voice, “was this my father’s doing, or my cousins?”

“Both my Lady.” Rémann said cautiously.

Alice laughed and folded her arms over her chest. “Of course father would. I’m surprised he didn’t send an army.”

“When we received word you traveled with the Lord Aichlan, the king was able to convince your father not to raise an army to canvas the continent.”

Alice raised a questioning eyebrow. “How did you know that?” She waved her hand indifferently before he had a chance to reply. “Never mind, how many did you bring?”

“A dozen knights of the King’s guard my lady.” He glanced around, several mages and a few Sorn soldiers milled about, drinking coffee or smoking cigarettes. “Overkill it would seem; you’ve managed quite well.”

A self-satisfied grin crossed her lips. “I have indeed, though admittedly, Aichlan holds much of the credit here. He is the one who got us this far.”

“Is Lord Aichlan around?” Rémann glanced about the room again with a hopeful lilt in his voice, “I’d very much like to speak to him.”

She gave him a knowing look, seeing through his flimsy pretext. His cheeks flushed. General Garrick was a national treasure, and his son had made a name for himself in his own right. He was the first Aes Sidhean Grandmaster in over two-hundred years, and the youngest since The Knights of The Order’s founding. Given such pedigree, he couldn’t be blamed for being a bit star-struck.

“He’s out canvasing the city for some mercenaries I saw earlier.” She said with a knowing smile. “He’ll be around later this evening.”

She was about to continue when her eyes abruptly narrowed and her demeanor changed drastically. Perplexed, Rémann turned around to follow her gaze, jumping with a start upon finding Siegrun standing behind him, her once black hair now inexplicably a gaudy shade of teal green.

“Dawn’s light woman!” He swore, annoyed by her habit of sneaking up on folk. “When the devil did you get here?”

“Just now.” She replied dryly, the hint of a smile in her eyes as if she enjoyed startling armed men. “I came to check on you as promised, but it appears that you’ve already found your missing Countess.”

“Lieutenant Wolfmother,” Alice spoke with unbridled contempt. “I didn’t expect to see you sulking about in these parts.”

Siegrun smiled politely, her lips pursed tightly together. Rémann looked her over once more in disbelief.

“Wolfmother?” Rémann asked. “You don’t mean—“

Siegrun nodded quickly, and a bit ashamed. “The one and the same.”

Rémann nodded slowly, despising the woman all the more. It certainly did explain Alice’s chilly greeting, General Garrick had been like a favored uncle to her, if he was to believe the king's many tales on the matter. Which of course he was.

“Is the-“

“Yes.” She said quickly with what could be mistaken for panic. “Aichlan and my brother reached an understanding some years ago.”

“I wasn’t a part of this understanding.” Alice muttered.

If Siegrun heard, and she likely did, she tactfully ignored the comment.

“I have come to escort Master Rémann to the palace, if that Is acceptable.”

Alice shrugged. “Fine by me.” She turned her back to Siegrun and smiled at Rémann. “I’ve a full load this afternoon I’m afraid, but hopefully you and Aichlan can join me for a late dinner?”

Rémann bowed. “I shall be certain to pass the invitation along.”

Alice embraced him once more. “It’s so good to see you again Rémann, I’m sure Aichlan will feel the same.”

Rémann nodded stiffly, trying in vain to hold back his own emotions. “You honor me too much my Lady.”

With a final wave, Alice ran off to rejoin her mage advisers, leaving Rémann alone under the stoic gaze of Siegrun. The woman was making his skin crawl, particularly after the reveal of her parentage. He still had no idea who her father was, or if it even mattered. Knowing what he did of the woman called Wolfmother, she probably had her way with Aes Sidhean prisoners of war in some twisted sex torture dungeon.

“Do you still wish for me to accompany you to the palace? Or would you prefer to make your own way?”

Rémann blushed, aware that his face had shown visible disgust. “Please, lead the way.”