Chapter Text
Heismay approached Strohl first thing the next morning. While closing the door had allowed Will some privacy during the night--Heismay hadn't caught any specific words--the voices raised from surprise around midnight had carried enough that Heismay bluntly questioned if something had happened after Strohl told him their captain would be sleeping in. Hardly wanting to go into all the sordid details, Strohl told him simply that Will had returned late because he'd started feeling ill while he was out, but had taken a remedy and would be fine. And...Heismay should disregard any strange rumors he might catch about Will around town.
Heismay had cocked an eyebrow at Strohl, but shrugged with little hesitation. "So long as the captain is fine, that's enough for me," he said. The middle-aged eugief was not exactly one for gossip.
...Strohl hadn't thought Basilio was one for gossip either, but he was the next to come to him, with a worried-looking Junah in tow. "Look, I just popped down to market for eggs," Basilio said in a low voice, absentmindedly lifting the egg basket he was still touting. "But everyone's eager to talk about a public execution what went down by the harbors last night."
Wherever they'd gone, Basilio was able to easily strike up a conversation with other paripus, and in some instances got dragged into exchanges even when he wasn't trying. In hindsight, Strohl should've realized he'd be the first to hear the talk.
"And the daftest thing is, the lot of 'em are saying Will brought him to be executed? 'less we got a second elda candidate when I wasn't lookin'. After that sanctoress, I can't see him bringing someone else to the chopping block knowing what'll happen. Well, maybe if they were a real bloodthirsty and ruthless sort, like... But the whole thing's odd."
Strohl pinched the bridge of his nose. "The rumors are false, yes. Please, don't spread them further, or bring them up to Will." He still wasn't sure how much he should say, but... there was one detail that would make it clear to both of them why they needed to keep it quiet. "The person executed was a friend of his."
Basilio's ears flinched back before he nodded. "Got it. Guess that settles that," he said with a look to Junah.
"Basilio only told me because he was worried," Junah said. "We weren't sure if someone had made up the story to help Will or hurt him somehow." Her tourmaline eyes narrowed as she looked down, and she shook her head. "...What a vicious lie."
Ah. Now Strohl understood why Basilio had gone to Junah about it: not because she was his closest friend in the group, though that may have played a small part, but because she was a famous songstress who had all too much experience in dealing with rumors and gossip. They were drawing the wrong conclusion about the execution's intent, but...
Well. The intent had been soundly trumped by its actual effect, Strohl had to say. "I don't believe anyone had further business in town, so we should move on quickly once Will awakes."
Both Basilio and Junah agreed, with Junah promising she'd explain the situation to Eupha and Hulkenberg if the gossip happened to reach them. And that was mostly the end of the matter for the time being, with them leaving on the gauntlet runner soon after Will woke late in the morning. No one commented on the unusual tardiness, and if Basilio happened to cook a few of Will's favorite dishes for a 'brunch' on the runner and serve him heaping portions as Junah kept up lighthearted conversation... Will seemed a little too out of it still, not catching on that he was being fussed over, but appreciative all the same. By evening, after tea with Heismay, he seemed fully back to himself. No doubt he was still hurting, but he could keep going.
Will deserved a break once the curse on the prince was broken.
...He wasn't going to get it, as it then turned out he was the prince, in a turn of events that seemed straight out of a legend.
It was roughly a fortnight before they chanced to return to Brilehaven for some errands, and Strohl accompanied Will and Gallica into the city. In the side of his vision, Strohl caught Will stilling and looked to him--and that was quite the glare his captain was making. Strohl followed the direction of his narrowed blue eyes and saw a heavyset, middle-aged roussainte wearing a conservative suit. The roussainte did not flinch from Will's fierce look but nodded back, if stiffly. "Who is that?" Strohl asked Will.
"The landowner," Will said. "I'm going to talk with him."
As soon as Strohl connected 'the landowner' to 'the one who killed Will's friend', he reached out to snag Will's wrist. "Don't be rash," he said before letting go. Not a warning he'd ever thought he'd need to give Will, but this was an exceptional situation.
"Don't worry. And don't wait up for me." He held his right hand down, palm facing Strohl, his customary way of telling the group to 'hold'. Though usually it was made because Gallica had just spotted a beast they wouldn't want to fight. In this case, he went on alone. His posture, usually the most unprincely thing about him (how he would slouch when sitting), was tense, ramrod straight with shoulders pulled back as he approached the man and addressed him. Their opening words seemed peaceable enough, but Strohl was still unhappy to see them turn to go into the nearby tavern for more substantial conversation.
A few seconds after they'd gotten off the street, Gallica hmphed. "Well, I'm not leaving."
Her indignant tone managed to crack a brief smile from Strohl in spite of his worry. "Neither am I."
They caught a glimpse of Will and the landowner again when the two men took a seat by one of the tavern windows. Only the silhouettes of their heads were visible, but that was enough for Strohl to at least try to act as though everything were fine and take in the sights of Brilehaven, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure nothing suspect was happening. It at least didn't appear as though they were eating or drinking, which eliminated the concern of another drugging attempt.
It was a brief meeting, perhaps twenty minutes or so; Strohl looked over his shoulder to see both men gone from the table and felt his heart jump into his throat before spotting Will's head of silver blue (he was still getting used to the far lighter color) in front of the tavern. Gallica was already fluttering toward him--she'd likely spotted him right away with her fae sight. "Will!"
He turned to the fairy in surprise, letting them see that he was holding a folded letter close to his breast. "Gallica--Strohl," he added, as he caught the clemar as well, and frowned. "You really didn't need to wait."
"Forgive us our concern," Strohl said lightly as he walked up.
Will sighed and shook his head. "No, thank you." The letter crinkled lightly as he tucked it away inside his coat and patted the fabric down to make sure it was secure. "Um, the landowner, Datarum... I need to meet with him again tomorrow. For a last request."
"From Alonzo?" Gallica asked.
Will nodded. As they started to walk back to the gauntlet runner, he explained the request further: while alive, Alonzo had tried giving his village his own fortune for repairs and recovery after the fire, but had been soundly rebuffed since they thought him the culprit. He'd given it to the landowner for safekeeping, but even if the landowner was not reviled by the villagers, there was still bad blood from when he had exploited them. Surely, though... surely they'd accept aid from the hero who'd captured the villain? And so, Will was to give them the money as if it were his own charity, to make sure it would be accepted.
Closurei, Strohl found himself thinking, an echo of old Sanctist sermons he'd sat through. He'd never been particularly devout, and certainly wasn't about to start after all he'd seen on this journey, but he could see why people appealed to a god's mercy when fate could be so twisted. If he'd been blamed for Halia's destruction for some twisted reason, not even allowed to help the survivors, he would have wished for death too. Even if he still hated how Alonzo's decision had hurt Will, he felt a strong sympathy for the man.
Will's voice had flattened as he described the request, as if trying to divorce himself entirely from the story Alonzo had woven, and that was also upsetting. Will was a hero, to so many. It shouldn't have to be for this. "And we're already here," Will concluded. Of course, he could teleport the gauntlet runner, but it required a good mental effort; it still made sense to try to get as much done in one place as possible. "So I should go tomorrow."
"You don't need to push yourself if you're not ready," Strohl said. "This can't be easy for you."
Will stopped walking for a moment. His hand touched the breast of his peacoat where the letter had been tucked away, over his heart. His blue eyes were bright and determined when he looked up at Strohl. "That doesn't matter. They need the money. I am going tomorrow."
Strohl sighed. "...You're right, of course. Can't leave people in need. I just... I do worry for you."
Will had distanced himself from the tournament the night of the execution, because it was not him who would take the throne but the prince. Except... he had not yet known he was the prince. His determination had not wavered, but the expectations had changed.
If it bothered him at all, he didn't let on. Strohl certainly didn't expect him to quit his path, and a certain stoicism was required in a leader to instill confidence in the people, but it, like so many other things, could be taken too far. Would Will let him shoulder some of his woes, and not just when he was drugged and in distress?
There was a second when surprise rounded Will's eyes; then he looked almost upset, and Strohl thought he might have pushed past a boundary in their companionship. But then the prince smiled, and it was... polite, his eyes calming. "You're a good friend, Strohl. I'll be fine." Mind made up, he walked ahead toward the gauntlet runner lots, Gallica flying after him.
Strohl sighed into the cool evening, contemplated the stars beginning to shine for a moment as if they could tell anything, and then followed Will back.
The next morning, Will and Gallica set out with the landowner, just the three of them as they were going by carriage. They returned to Brilehaven mid afternoon. If Strohl just happened to be by the tavern then, having whittled away the morning at the Coliseum with Hulkenberg, Basilio and Eupha, it was convenient timing.
Gallica knew better, with the look she gave him when she found him. (That she'd known to go looking for him was a mild embarrassment in itself.) "Everything went... about as well as it could," she said, folding her arms as she fluttered in front of him. "No tricks this time, totally on the level. Datarum said there was one last thing and he needed Will to wait a few minutes, but I'm sure he'll be out soon."
"Right," Strohl said with a nod. "I'll go then."
"What?" Gallica cocked her head. "Why?"
"I doubt Will would appreciate that I'm..." Strohl searched for a word that didn't sound too overbearing. "Hovering."
"...Okay, but you're already here, and just because it didn't end in disaster doesn't mean he had fun, and also, Will will tell you if he doesn't appreciate it. Like he told Hulkenberg."
Finding out Will was in fact the prince she'd been searching for many long years had done quite a number on Hulkenberg, and for nearly three days she'd stuck to Will's side like a burr. Then they'd had a private conversation, and she'd looked scolded for the rest of the evening. There'd never been any raised voices, and Strohl was sure Will had been perfectly civil, but. "Perhaps I don't want to be told like Hulkenberg was?"
Gallica rolled her eyes. "You're already here. He's not going to mind."
...No. Of course Will wouldn't. Strohl wasn't going to pry--they'd only talk about the matter if Will wished so. He just wanted to there for Will, like he had been there for him so many times.
As they waited for their captain to emerge, there was a strange sound from the alley by the tavern, almost like a gust of wind had ripped through or...something. On a day of otherwise mild weather, barring the ominous red sky, it seemed out of place, and Strohl moved to look. All that stood out in the alley was a small child holding a hand to their chest as they breathed in deeply, as though trying to calm themself. Nidian, judging by the luster of their blue hair, which would be hard to find in other tribes.
"Are you all right?" Strohl called as Gallica swooped in, dropping herself to the child's eye level. The child seemed to be cared for, given their smart suit and the neat ponytail their hair was pulled back in, but this was hardly a typical place for someone so young to be.
The child scowled for a second, but then opened their eyes--most certainly nidian then, given the brilliant color, much like Junah's gemlike eyes. But there was a wetness in their eyes adding to the shine. "I'm quite well," the child said, with both a young voice and a mature tone, and when they smiled it seemed genuine, a dimple appearing in one cherubic cheek. "I'm simply happy to have the most wonderful friend. I hardly deserve him."
Such an unexpected sentiment to hear from one so young. Strohl was still wondering at it when Gallica responded. "Well, then, you better cherish him!" she told him. "I'm sure he's glad to have you as a friend, too."
"I hope so," the child said before waving at them. "And I will. Goodbye now." Strohl's concern ebbed as the child confidently picked a direction on the street and walked away. They knew the area well, then, and knew where they were going.
"Bye!" Gallica waved back until the child was out of sight.
It took a few more minutes for Will to emerge from the tavern. He looked... deep in thought, still paying attention to his immediate surroundings to avoid bumping into anyone on the crowded street, but not looking around to observe the broader city as was his habit. Even though Gallica had gone with him and he knew she would be nearby, he didn't seem to look for her at all before Gallica got impatient and called out to him. His expression as he looked to them was strange--Strohl couldn't quite decipher it--but when he saw both of them, it cleared into a smile.
"Strohl. How are you?"
Very glad to have checked on Will after all, now. "Quite well; had a few rousing bouts at the Coliseum with the others. How are you doing?"
"I'm." There was that strange look on Will's face again--bothered, perhaps? "...Fine."
"...You know that wasn't convincing, right?" Gallica pointed out.
"If you don't want to talk about it now, it can wait," Strohl said. He'd promised himself to not pry.
Oh, yes, Will was most certainly bothered about something. "We should get to the gauntlet runner."
...What had transpired at the village? Gallica had said it'd gone as well as it could, and that was not a high standard, but Will had expected it to be difficult. Gallica looked very confused as well, and after a minute or two of expectant silence, she burst out:
"Okay, what happened in the tavern? What did Datarum do?"
"Nothing!" Will said quickly. "Datarum did nothing."
"But something happened?"
"It's--" Will stopped walking for a moment, rubbing his face. "I feel like I'm going mad."
Always encouraging words to hear from one's captain. The most baffling part was his tone, which he could have used to remark on a thunderstorm rolling towards their gauntlet runner. Was he close to breaking down in tears? Was he worried he would hurt someone?
Nothing for it but to ask. "Why?"
"Alonzo is alive," Will said quietly. "He revealed himself in the tavern just now."
...Were the dead just not going to stay dead any more? After Zorba and Louis and the prince-- granted, Strohl was not complaining about the last, it was just a bewildering number--
Oh. Oh no, wait. Will thought he was going mad because he'd seen a dead man walking.
"Uh..." Gallica floated close to Will's face and folded her arms. "Did he just happen to also have a magla construct, or..."
"No, no," Will said. "The execution was staged, he never died." He huffed an aggrieved sigh. "I should have realized. His glamor stayed when he 'died'."
"Should it have not?" Strohl asked, still feeling lost. For all the rumors about nidias and their glamors, he didn't know anything concrete about how those worked.
"I'm pretty sure?" Will's brow furrowed. "A nidia's glamor doesn't seem to require much effort from them, but they can lose it if they feel strong emotions, so I assume it takes some. I should have figured it out then."
Hm. Assuming that was true about the glamor, Will seemed to be reasoning soundly... though there was one point Strohl had to take issue with. "Will, you were drugged. And... I don't know if you remember, but the night it happened, you compared the execution to Grius' death. The memory of that misfortune, along with the drugs, may have distorted your perception. Besides, the act apparently fooled the rest of the crowd the rest of the crowd as well. ...Can I ask why you think you're going mad?" If he believed Alonzo being alive made sense (and Strohl sincerely hoped he was right), why did he think he was losing his mind?
"...Shouldn't I be happy? That my friend is alive?"
Ah. All right, that did seem a bit strange. "Are you not?"
"...I was, at first... no, I still am. But now I find...I'm angry as well."
Well, yes. Good. Strohl had sympathized with Alonzo before, but he still believed Alonzo deserved some anger. He could have tried to contact Will in a more timely fashion after the 'execution', and on that point, surely he could have found an alternative plan to making a friend believe he was dead? But Strohl had no idea why being angry would make Will think he was losing his reason... Hold on. "...Have you never been furious with a friend before?"
He couldn't remember Will ever quarreling with another of their party before. Even if he'd needed to ask Hulkenberg for space the one time, it'd hardly been an argument. And Will seemed to be casting his mind far back to remember one, given how seriously he was thinking; his light eyelashes fluttered over his eyes as he looked down, one hand cupping his chin.
...Will was thinking quite hard about this, while Strohl could think of several fights he'd had with friends when young off the top of his head, even if the petty reasons were harder to recall. Before, he'd thought, especially with the immaturity of childhood, the occasional quarrel with a friend was regrettable, but simply part and parcel of a relationship. But perhaps he'd not only been ungrateful for his privileged life: perhaps he'd been an overly contentious child, a truly spoiled brat.
"No? I mean... before I met all of you, I was my only friend, and... I was imaginary, so... no," Will concluded at length.
...Or perhaps Will's childhood had been so strange as to render comparisons meaningless.
"That makes sense," Gallica said, sitting on Will's shoulder and nodding sagely, as if he'd made a reasonable statement that wasn't at all confusing or unbearably tragic. "Why would you imagine yourself mad?"
Will nodded back to her before looking up hopefully at Strohl. "This is normal, then? I...wouldn't say I'm furious, but... I do feel like I could shout at him, or..."
"Punch him?" Gallica suggested, a little too eagerly. Will made an unhappy noncommittal sound.
"I believe you feeling conflicted is the only thing normal about this," Strohl muttered. Those small hints of a sheltered life had become so much clearer now that Strohl understood more of Will's circumstances: as the prince, he'd gone from living in the remote village of the most unfairly despised tribe while barely more than a babe, to living in a palace filled with political intrigue against him, to languishing in the ruins of his tribe's village. Then the whole part where he'd walked the land as a fantasy with the false memory of being his own childhood friend. He'd certainly had bonds with some of the adults around him, but until this journey he'd never been able to make friendships freely, or experience their lows and highs: being angry with a friend one still deeply cared for... or being able to rely on one at all.
Strohl felt he understood Will a little better now, a piece clicking into place. He would keep showing Will he did have friends to fall back on now, for as long as he could; he knew he wasn't alone in that. For now... "Well, you clearly don't want to actually go back and shout at Alonzo or punch him, even if he does deserve some words."
Will shook his head. "No. He's a good friend. And I understand why he made the plan as it was, it's just..."
It'd hurt, of course. Strohl nodded. "So it seems all you need is some time and space to get your thoughts in order. Perfectly understandable."
"I'm sure Neuras is ready for a flight, if you want to go somewhere else!" Gallica said.
"We should. We still need to prepare against Louis," Will said. "But I do hope to see Alonzo when all this is done."