Chương 22: Chapter 21: Pain is Endured

The morning sun did little to burn away the tension lingering over the Altheris estate. The high-born guests had fled back to their respective territories before dawn, leaving the manor's domestic staff the monumental task of attempting to fill the scorched craters and ruined masonry Elma had carved into the gardens. Elma walked silently down the carpeted hallway, her small, measured steps making no sound. As she passed Christa's quarters, the heavy oak doors were ajar. She paused, cataloging the occupants.

Lady Nina Kresnik stood near the window, as imposing as a monolith. Beside her was the intensely thin woman who shadowed her every move. Sitting in a plush chair was the frail man from the feast, flanked by his eerily synchronized, silver-clad guard. Elma stepped into the room. Christa shot up in bed the moment she crossed the threshold. Despite her pale complexion and the bandages under her gown, her eyes were wide with frantic energy. She practically lunged forward, grabbing Elma's shoulders.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" As she spoke, Christa's eyes darted downward, frantically scanning Elma's chest for the outline of the gold pendant that Elma had almost forgotten about. Elma tightened her jaw. She looked away, remembering why she was wearing this useless pendant.

"I am fine." Christa blinked, her hands still on Elma's shoulders. She looked shocked by the distance. Elma didn't even know what this woman wanted.

"Of course she will say she is fine," Nina stated.

"She understands something my children never learned. Pain is endured, never shown. No one cares to witness it. And those who do are only searching for leverage." The frail man pushed himself out of his chair and stumbled forward, completely ignoring Nina's lesson. As he approached, a heavy, cloying stench of expensive liquor washed over Elma, making her curl her upper lip in disgust. She couldn't feel any weight around him. Zero Total Resonance Output. He was completely Unawakened.

"I heard all about your little display last night," he slurred, offering a crooked, bleary smile.

"I am your Uncle Lucien." Without warning, he reached down, pinched Elma's nose, and pulled his hand back, sliding his thumb between his index and middle fingers in a mock-theatrical gesture.

"Got your nose." Elma blasted him square in the chest, launching him across the room until he slammed hard against the opposite wall, sliding down to the floor with a breathless wheeze. His silent guard moved instantly. She blurred across the room to Lucien's side, helping him up before turning to shoot Elma a lethally sharp, warning glare. Elma's eyes narrowed as she scanned the armored woman. Nothing. She couldn't sense a single drop of resonance from the guard either. How did she movelike that?

The thin woman standing next to Nina looked down at Elma. Elma met her gaze, attempting to parse the micro-expressions on the woman's face. It was an incredibly guarded look, an emotion betraying a tightly controlled physical frame, but it was so thin and heavily buried that Elma couldn't identify it. Pity? Calculation?

"Leave her be, Lucien," Nina commanded, not showing a shred of concern for her son being blasted into the stonework. She stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Elma with a predatory pride.

"The blood of the moon runs true in her. You both should learn from her example." Lucien rubbed his chest, coughing hard.

"If her example involves launching people into furniture, I believe I'll pass." Christa shrank back against her pillows, averting her gaze. Elma looked between them, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. What exactly did Nina want her Unawakened son and injured daughter to learn from her? Nina shifted her cold gaze to Christa.

"Your panic was not the problem. The fact that others witnessed it was. If you must break, do it in private." She sighed, grabbing her temples.

"How many times must I tell you this? What's so hard about it that you can't understand?" Christa's hands clamped onto her bed covers, her knuckles turning white as she refused to meet her mother's eyes.

"My Lady," Anastasia interjected, her voice a dry, rasping whisper.

"Perhaps this lesson can wait until she has recovered." Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Nina's gaze flickered toward her. Anastasia inclined her head before turning to Christa.

"Your mother speaks from experience. This world is not gentle, and neither is this vile house…"

"Anastasia," Nina warned, a sharp edge entering her voice. Why do they harbor such hostility toward this house? The reprimand finally broke Christa's restraint.

"You always preferred Serena!" Christa burst out.

"Even now it's still about her! How is her betrayal my fault? Why am I the one paying for what she did?"

"Do not speak that filthy name in this room!" Nina fired back, her composure fracturing.

"You never taught me any of this. You just keep acting like I should already know." Lucien shouted something in defense of his sister, and Anastasia immediately countered. The room rapidly descended into a chaotic, emotionally volatile shouting match. Elma stood in the center of the crossfire. The acoustic noise was grating, and the emotional variables were completely irrational and irrelevant. She turned on her heel and quietly walked out of the room, leaving them to their yelling.

She had far more urgent matters to attend to—specifically, searching for her lost brother. Before she could round the next intersecting corridor, Valerius abruptly stepped out from a side hallway, almost as if he had been waiting in ambush. He looked down at her, his massive frame blocking the light.

"Little jewel. How are you holding up?" Elma didn't decelerate. She kept walking past him, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.

"I am fine." Valerius fell into step beside her, his heavy boots thudding against the carpeted floor. He cleared his throat, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic, defensive edge as he began offering rapid rationalizations.

"About last night. I didn't expect the Teyrn brat to lose his composure to that degree. It was supposed to be a friendly fight. I didn't know he was that petty." Elma stopped walking and looked up at him.

"I have no intention of participating in 'spars' in the future. The rules of engagement are flawed and confusing. If an opposing entity desires to engage me in combat, they must be prepared to put their life on the line." Valerius blinked, a flash of fierce, prideful validation sweeping across his rugged features.

"I completely agree. A true Altheris does not play at war. You have my word—you will never be subjected to another farce like that again if you do not wish it." Elma stared at him for a beat, calculating his lingering hesitation.

"Is there a secondary objective to this interaction?" The imposing Warlord suddenly stammered, his confident posture subtly fracturing. He shifted his weight, looking down at his own calloused hands before asking, "How... how is Christa doing?" Elma's brow furrowed.

"You know where her quarters are. Why have you not queried her yourself?"

"My schedule is packed with post-war logistics. I have meetings with the southern border commanders. Besides... I cannot allow the Kresnik matriarch to infer that I am actively doubting my own wife's physical fortitude under my roof."

"She is fine."

"Right. Outstanding," Valerius muttered, a visible wave of relief washing over his face.

"I must take my leave then." Without another word, he turned and thudded away. He moved in long, massive, evenly spaced strides. Within a matter of seconds, Valerius had cleared the entire length of the grand hallway—crossing a physical distance that would take Elma's legs several minutes of continuous effort to traverse. She'd meant to ask him for the Flow compositions while she had him alone.

The opportunity had come and gone before she'd even thought to use it, and by the time the thought caught up with her, he was already three corridors and a flight of stairs away, probably halfway to whatever meeting he'd invented an excuse to attend. Elma let out a long, quiet sigh. She resumed her route toward her nursery, only to be immediately confronted by a second ambush. Jorm burst out from an adjoining corridor. The maid was practically vibrating with excess energy, squealing in unfiltered excitement.

"You were so cool!" Jorm whisper-shouted, immediately launching into a series of clumsy, rapid-fire punches and kicks against the empty air in the hallway.

"I had no idea you could do all that! When you went up into the sky on those giant water legs… and, and the green explosions." Jorm squealed again, her face flushed as she grabbed Elma's small shoulders.

"Can I do that?"

"Those are specific to Flow Resonance." Jorm's face fell slightly, but she quickly rebounded.

"What about Geo? Do you know if I can do cool stuff like that? When should I learn how to weave?"

"My understanding on Geo Resonance is currently limited. However, there must be comprehensive frameworks regarding it in the pile of books the Lords gifted me last night. We can review them." Before Jorm could react to the offer, the heavy, rhythmic rustle of expensive fabric echoed down the hall. Lady Kresnik and Anastasia were advancing, having apparently concluded their shouting match in Christa's quarters. As they passed, Anastasia abruptly halted.

Her fiercely guarded, intense gaze locked directly onto the maid.

"Jorry?" Anastasia said. The single word slipped through her meticulously controlled exterior, carrying a heavy weight of disbelief. Jorm blinked, her bubbly energy pausing for a second as she recognized the thin woman.

"Anastasia?" she muttered, offering a small, slightly embarrassed smile. Lady Kresnik stopped a few paces ahead and turned back, her granite features forming a sharp, inquisitive frown.

"You know this maid, Anastasia?" Anastasia turned to her lady, her expression entirely sincere.

"Yes, my lady. This young girl was a great help to me during my tea shopping here two weeks ago. She generously took her time to accompany me and show me all the best stores." Jorm immediately clasped her hands politely behind her back, maintaining her respectful posture.

"The lady seemed lost, my lady," Jorm murmured with genuine helpfulness.

"And I did not have anything else to do. I was happy to assist."

"I see. I appreciate you assisting Anastasia," Nina said, her dismissive tone indicating she did not actually care in the slightest. She looked pointedly at the thin woman.

"But we have matters to attend to. We must go."

"Right," Anastasia agreed. She turned back to Jorm, offering her a strange, appreciative smile.

"I will see you later."