Record of Ashes War

Chapter 29 - Shameful Return

Gulls circled above Qalydon's harbor. Dawn had just broken, revealing an empty sky with fading embers. Eildred leaned against a mast as the Salamander approached the city. Rescue efforts had taken the better part of the night. Few soldiers and sailors from the fallen ships had made it aboard the four surviving vessels of the fleet. Most had been swept away to Flames knew where, or had sunk to the depths with arms stretched towards the surface and mouths hanging open, a world of water muffling their final cries.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Eildred looked up, eyes heavy and body aching. Qalydon rung bells to announce the fleet's return. The men aboard found no welcome in its song. Eildred especially wished it would stop. It was no better than listening to the bells before an execution, bells to gather an audience while a criminal's sins are read aloud, his head placed upon a block, a masked executioner standing behind with an axe in hand. Eildred was the criminal. The ships were sailing towards the city as a sinner is marched up the steps of the execution stand. And the audience were the women and children at the harbor, awaiting the return of their loved ones. Many of them would stand waiting forever.

The incessant shrieks of gulls grew harsher with the nearing of the vessels. Eildred stood at last, staring his fears in the eye. More and more people gathered beyond the harbor, their worry evident as only four of twenty ships were returning.

What am I to tell them?

The ships were moored and men upon them disembarked, sailors rushing to greet their families while soldiers from the capital lined up on one side, awaiting further orders from their commanding officer. He descended down the gangplank, his armor bundled in a burlap bag slung over his shoulder like a pile of junk. A Lotus Knight's armor. The symbol of Xenaria's strength, its grace, and its unrelenting defense. A strength that showed weakness. A grace that was now stained. And a defense that had shattered. Captain of the Guard. What right do I have of wearing such a piece?

The wails began. The tears flowed. News was broken. Some collapsed to their knees. Others ran to the edge of the shore, peering into the horizon. Few returned home, distraught and unbelieving. Eildred walked over to the soldiers. But what order was he to give them? He wanted to go home and see Dahlia, but how could he face her now? And how could he just up and leave Qalydon?

The Thundersword, a fearless hero, now a shameless defeated man who'd run away. Such would be the rumors. He didn't care about his own image. But if he who had been a symbol of Xenaria's pride were to be slandered, it would tarnish the nation's image, and more importantly, Dahlia image.

The first order of business was to wait for Theodore. Flames willing the escort ships would return with him safely and plans for the future could be made in accordance. He spotted Tilda stepping out of a carriage, child in her arms. She wore that same white dress as from the day before. She strode up to him, her expression undecipherable.

"Sir Aegis…" Tilda said, the question in her voice clear. Eildred could see the reflection of The Salamander within the darks of her eyes.

"We lost," was all he could respond with, head hanging low. She was about chest height to him, and yet he felt so small before her right then. Smaller than the child she held to her breast.

Tilda didn't ask about the defeat. Didn't ask about the ships. Or the men. Her expression had barely changed upon hearing of the loss. "Where is Theo?" she questioned.

Her gaze felt sharp as a lance. Her three words stabbed with more vehemence than a dagger in the back. Eildred avoided her eyes and turned to the sea, checking to see if the two ships he'd sent were at the horizon. And they were. For a moment, he felt a minor relief. The lump in his throat receded. He opened his mouth to explain but Tilda rushed passed him, likely guessing at what was happening. She stood on the wooden planks of the harbor, staring out while a breeze made the frills of her dress flutter like small angelic wings.

Eildred thought of waiting beside her, but he couldn't. His heart sank as the two ships got closer to the city. Their sails were in tatters. Some were near burnt entirely. The ones remaining were riddled with holes, barely in functioning condition to carry the vessels back home. The frame itself was in no better shape, cracked wood here and there and iron bolts sticking out the sides. Had they even made it to Kovar, or were they decimated before reaching the island?

The ships moored and the men came down, some in bandages and others with their arms around comrades for support. Tilda stood unmoving. The last of the sailors and soldiers descended, ship captains coming down at the end. Some formerly crying citizens were now shedding tears of joy as a few more of their husbands and brothers had returned.

None of them however, were Theodore Coraine.

Tilda's gaze turned back to the horizon. Eildred walked over to her. The bundle in her arms shuffled about. Eildred closed his eyes, teeth clenched. He breathed in and mustered the courage to speak. "I sent those two vessels to escort him back. I don't think any more ships will be returning, my lady."

"I see," was all she said, still staring at the horizon. Her son began to wail and squirm. She held him loosely, her arms trembling. Her hands were slowly sliding to the edge of the bundle they held.

"Tilda!" Eildred cried, grasping her hands to support them before she dropped her son. Her expression was blank. No. She was in shock. A single tear rolled down her cheek and fell. She blinked, looking up at Eildred.

"I… Was I… Did I almost drop…? I'm sorry, Sir Aegis. That was poor of me."

"No, I am to blame. If only I hadn't—"

But she wasn't listening. Tilda clutched her child and wiped her eyes before turning away, her shadow stretched thin as if scraped against the planks. Eildred swallowed, creases forming on his forehead as he closed his eyes. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling Tilda's tear that had fallen on one. Sea breeze touched them. It felt especially cold.

***

Eildred stared at his own reflection within the dark liquid of his tea. He hadn't touched it at all. It had gone cold and no longer carried a scent. A few biscuits were set aside on a plate next to his cup. His empty stomach rumbled, but he didn't move to pick up any. He waited in the Coraine manor's common room, unsure of what to do or what to say. Tilda was on the second floor somewhere, mourning. He very well couldn't leave the city without her permission. It would be rude.

I need to return to her majesty. There was the matter of the Flame Bearer which Dahlia needed to know. A boy prince with hatred for the nation and surrounded by talented and powerful individuals. The child needed to be brought to heel or he could one day grow to threaten the crown. Further internal strife was the last thing Xenaria needed.

Return home and extinguish the immediate threats to Xenaria alongside the queen. And then return to reclaim Kovar. That was Eildred's current plans. But what if Tilda demanded his aid right now? He could refuse of course. But Eildred wasn't certain he had it in him to refuse anything at that moment. He had made a silent promise with her and he hadn't kept it. He'd betrayed her trust and now felt paralyzed. His fingers closed around the glass cup, its surface cold. He squeezed hard while glaring at his own eyes within the liquid. Glaring at his own shameful face. He downed the cup in a single breath, hoping to punish himself if but a little with the bitter taste of tea.

There was no punishment to be had. The tea was sweet, a lavender blend mixed with honey. Theodore's servants were as mindful as they were hospitable, offering a calming tea without being asked for it. Eildred massaged his forehead with his fingers. His stomach rumbled again. He finally gave in and brought a biscuit to his mouth. It was sweet also. A thick biscuit filled with date paste. He let out a long sigh before leaning back against the velvet cushioned seat, reminded of Theodore's nonchalant attitude just yesterday. Eildred was regretting having beaten the man all those years ago. He hadn't deserved it.

Eildred finished every biscuit, crumbs spilt over his shirt. Sweet food, kind servants, and an expensively furnished manor with pieces that complimented each other and made the space whole. But it all felt cold and hollow. They no longer seemed to serve a purpose with their master not present.

Shoes clacked against a set of stairs to Eildred's left. He looked up to see Tilda descending with two maids. She'd changed into a full sleeved black dress, hair tied back with a thin veil resting before her face. Even with the veil, he could see her bloodshot eyes worn from shedding many tears. She didn't seem to have washed her face either, vague lines of saltwater marking her cheeks. She sat down opposite of him, maintaining proper manners and grace with her movements, her two maids standing behind her.

"Er," Eildred began. What was he to say? Apologize? What good would it do Tilda in that moment?

"You should have left, Sir Aegis," she said. Her voice was damaged, cracking with every other word. A third maid arrived with a tea set, pouring her a steaming cup and refilling Eildred's own. "The queen will be needing your aid. Strange things have been happening, or so I've heard. I haven’t had time to confirm any of it though."

"My lady, I—"

"Sir Aegis, please. If you're going to apologize, don’t. Battles can only ever have a victor and a loser. We lost. That's all."

That wasn't all. How could that be all? Twenty warships the likes of which Illusterrra had never seen. Two of the realm's greatest swordsmen, and all they had to show for it was six surviving vessels and thousands of deaths without bodies to return to families. How could Tilda not be blaming him deep inside? "Strange things?" Eildred asked, hardly curious at that moment.

"I'm not sure. I've received word of a few villages denouncing the crown and starting an insurrection."

Eildred frowned, a bit more curious. Villages rebelling? It wasn't as if Xenaria had conquered new lands and its newly acquired citizens held resentment for it. "Why would long standing Xenarian citizens start a rebellion all of a sudden? And how many are there?"

"I don't know," Tilda answered, blowing away steam from her cup before taking a sip. "That is why you should hurry back to her majesty's side, I think."

"What of Qalydon?" Eildred asked, suddenly losing the courage to look her in the eye. He once again found himself staring at his reflection in his tea. Sudden high pitched wailing could be heard from upstairs. The cries of an infant. Eildred glanced at Tilda who sipped again, unmoved by the sounds. "Er, should you go see to your son?"

"It's fine," she answered.

The wailing continued, seeming louder. "Are you su—"

"It's fine!" Tilda shouted, arms shaking, a drop of tea falling into her lap.

Eildred swallowed. She was upset after all. But of course she's upset. He bit his lip, bringing his own teacup half way up before setting it back down. He took in a deep breath. "Is there anything you would have me do before I return to the capital?"

Tilda was staring into her own cup, holding it up by its handle with two fingers and her free hand beneath it. Steam still rose from within. The cup's surface had to be hot. She was intentionally burning her palm. She lifted it up at last, face twisting. It took several moments before she managed to wear a half calmed expression. "How many soldier do you have left?"

"Of the five thousand I arrived with, a little less than two fifths I believe. About a hundred or so with injuries."

"Can you leave most of them at Qalydon?"

Eildred frowned. "Pardon? My lady, you aren’t thinking of retaking the island are you?"

She closed her fists. "I'm not that stupid!" she cried. "I… I'm sorry," she then quickly said, turning her head away. "It was logical of you to assume that. No. Qalydon doesn't have many defenders herself. With pirates roaming the seas and Theodore… No. I just want the city to be prepared in the event anyone attempts a raid."

The infant's wailing continued. Eildred felt uncomfortable carrying on the conversation like this. "I see. Very well. I'll take the injured men with me and perhaps a hundred more. I'll leave the rest in your care. Does Qalydon's garrison have the resources to feed and house them?"

Tilda offered a faux smile. "My husband may be gone, but House Coraine is still here, Sir Aegis. We're filthy rich, remember?" She took another sip from her tea. "Leave the injured men here. There is no need to burden them with a return trip. I can have them treated and you can make haste to Exaltyron without being slowed by them."

Eildred nodded. Her thoughtfulness in such a time was admirable. "Then by your leave, my lady."

"Farewell, Sir Aegis."

He rose and bowed, turning away. He paused after a few steps. "This isn’t over, Tilda. Once things have settled in the capital, we will aid you in retaking the island."

Tilda sighed. "If only retaking the island would bring him back…"

Eildred flinched. His parting words were poor.

"I'm sorry, Eildred. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Your help will be appreciated then. Trade can resume if Kovar is retaken and many refugees will be allowed to return to the lives that have been stolen from them. Don't worry for me. I'll be fine. I promise."

She didn’t look fine. She was still ignoring the cries of her own son. Though some within Qalydon might be given their lives back in the future, Tilda Coraine's life would remain changed for the worst. Eildred bowed again, leaving the hollow manor without another word.