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WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT: found family vignettes
1. First impressions
“Uh, Leonie… who is that?” Claude asked.
“This is my apprentice!” Leonie said proudly, hands on her hips. Next to her, the small child followed suit, putting their hands on their hips and puffing out their chest. They looked to be eight at most.
“Uh-huh,” Claude said.
“No,” Lysithea interjected firmly. “Apologies, but—no. That is a child—and if anyone says ‘it takes one to know one,’ I will scream—and not old enough to be your apprentice.”
“Piper is the best mercenary apprentice I ever had,” Leonie said. The child in question—Piper apparently—crossed their arms and nodded.
2. Evening practice
After the Professor, and after Piper, the third-biggest surprise at the reunion was Lorenz. Gloucester had declared fealty to the Empire, and few knew what to make of Lorenz’s presence at the monastery.
“Does your father know you’re here?” Leonie asked in a low voice. They were outside the dining hall, looking towards the fish pond and greenhouse. A windmill turned, deceptively ponderous, in the distance. Lorenz’s lips thinned at her question, and he shook his head. He took a deep breath, but before he could speak, another voice was heard.
“Boss?” It was Piper. The child peeked around the corner. They hesitated when they saw Lorenz. “Oh, uh.”
“Piper,” Leonie said, holding an arm out. Piper came the rest of the way around the corner. They were holding a spear. They came close enough for Leonie to settle a hand on their shoulder. “What’s up?”
“It’s time for evening practice,” Piper said, mumbling a bit. Their eyes flicked between Leonie and Lorenz. Leonie nodded.
“So it is,” she agreed. For Lorenz’s benefit, she added, “We practice the spear every evening, to build up our endurance and train our muscle memory.”
“Of course,” Lorenz said, answering on automatic. Piper’s appearance had thrown him mentally off-balance. “Good policy.” Piper nodded, and Leonie smiled at Lorenz.
“We should go; it’s important to commit to a regular training regimen. Will you be around later tonight?” she asked.
“I will. If I’m not in the war room, I’ll likely be in the library,” Lorenz said. It did not escape his own attention—or Piper’s—that his cheeks were growing red. Leonie only nodded and led Piper from the courtyard.
3. Sleepless night
“It’s really good to see you,” Leonie said. They were sitting next to the old fishpond, legs hanging off the pier. It was late, and the night was clear and pierced by stars. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this, not for anything,” Lorenz said. It was too dark to see his expression, which may have been why he spoke as honestly as he did.
“I… I’m glad,” Leonie said. It felt inadequate. She was about to try again when she heard footsteps, just barely audible above the ever-falling water powered by the windmill. She turned in time to see Piper peek around the old fishkeeper’s stall. “Kiddo? You okay?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” they muttered. Lorenz couldn’t help but notice that Leonie’s ward, despite otherwise in being soft sleep clothes, was carrying a knife. It was sheathed, but it still drew his attention. Leonie did not seem to think anything was amiss.
“That sucks,” she said. This time when the child approached, they drew closer and closer until they were practically standing on Leonie. “You could sit with me and Lorenz for a bit, or we could walk around, or I could make you some tea. What do you think?”
“I’ll sit,” they said. They passed Leonie the knife, and she tucked it onto her belt. They sat down on Leonie’s far side, away from Lorenz, and leaned against her. She wrapped an arm around their skinny shoulders and tucked them comfortably against her. “Sorry I interrupted.”
“I want you to tell me if something’s bothering you. You know I don’t like to have to guess,” Leonie said. Piper nodded comfortably, in the manner of one listening to a familiar speech. Lorenz, watching, felt strange. He’d known, as had all their friends, that Leonie (probably) wasn’t really training the child as a mercenary apprentice, but to see them interacting like this still felt… personal.
4. Duties
Despite the whole mercenary apprentice thing, Leonie had never knowingly led Piper to an honest-to-goddess battlefield.
“How come your friends are going to the front, but we’re stuck here?” Piper wanted to know. “There’s no glory at the back.”
“Glory is a fool’s goal,” Leonie said, a woman who’d left her whole life behind to chase the dream of being the World’s Best at something. “The border needs protecting too.”
“It’s because of me, isn’t it,” Piper said flatly. Piper was good at the flat voice—too good for their age—but they hadn’t quite perfected it. Leonie knew this was the ‘I am hiding my feelings’ flat, not the ‘This situation is stupid’ flat or even the ‘I am bored’ flat. She sat on the ground and looked up at her—apprentice.
“We will be helping, staying to protect the border,” she said. Piper sat next to her, with all the twitchy disdain of an alley cat, somewhere between wanting to be nearby and needing to be independent. “And you’re right, that if you weren’t here, I’d probably be headed for the front too.” Piper made a satisfied noise but crossed their arms. “It’s not a cushy fake job, though, Pipes, it’s important. If the Imperial Army gets behind our guys and invades across the river…”
“That’d be bad,” Piper admitted. Leonie nodded. “Really bad.”
“Someone needs to do it, and it’s a big job. We’ll work hard.”
“You’ll work hard,” Piper corrected, frowning. Leonie grinned.
“You think I’ll let you laze about? If I’m working, you’re working. That’s the rules,” she threatened. Piper stuck out their tongue, but some of the tension left them at the promise of hard work to be done. It was probably a sign of damage, that Piper found labor more comforting than rest, but Leonie was hardly in a position to judge.
“… What kind of work?” they asked.
“All kinds,” Leonie promised. “Adding sums, and training men, and digging latrines. Your blisters will have blisters.” Piper made another face, but that didn’t stop them from inching closer to her. Leonie lifted her arm up and her apprentice shimmied up against her side.
“I don’t have blisters, I have calluses,” they said with stubborn pride. Leonie smiled softly, an expression only allowable when it occurred outside of Piper’s field of vision.
“You think you do now, kid. Just you wait.” Piper snorted and settled more firmly against her.
“… If we’re here, then who will look out for the purple one?” they asked. Leonie, who was not a total fool, had half-wondered if they were going to ask this question. She did not sigh.
“Lorenz can look after himself; he’s tougher than he looks,” she said calmly. It was even true. And the rest of the army would be with him, and Marianne would be on hand, and he was a grown man and Piper wasn’t. No question where she belonged.
“We can look after him better,” Piper said, surprising her. Leonie didn’t know what to say to that, so she tightened her arm around the kid. The silence spread out.
5. Eye-to-eye
“I’ll make sure she gets her head down, I’ve been doing it since we met, but you… who’s going to make sure you do?” the child asked. Lorenz… was fairly sure that Leonie’s apprentice had just expressed concern for him, in a roundabout way.
“I rest,” Lorenz said. “Every night.” Piper crossed their arms and frowned at him. Lorenz could not help the amusement he felt at how similar the gesture was to one of Leonie’s. They frowned harder at his smile. He tried to master himself. “I swear. Sleep deprivation is bad for the skin, you know.” Piper scoffed and rolled their eyes, a mannerism all their own.
“You’d better rest,” they said threateningly. Lorenz nodded. “… It’d be really stupid if you died out there.”
“It would be,” Lorenz said, “And I do so hate to appear stupid. I will endeavor not to die, I swear it.”
“Well. Good.” They turned on their heel and marched away, every movement decisive. It was not enough to hide the rising color in their cheeks. Lorenz watched them stride out the door and turn down the hall. He kept his hands folded precisely on the table before him until he was sure they had gone, and only then allowed himself to place one hand upon his breast.
6. Erika
Leonie never set out to recruit an apprentice, but there was the remains of this border village... Leonie was there, and Piper was there, and there was no one else, so… she ended up with an apprentice. She thought that when they found a town of a decent size, with decent people, Piper would probably choose to take their chances with the Church’s mercy or a foundling school. Mercenary work was dangerous, and it would have been reasonable if Piper had decided they’d seen enough violence already. But, as Piper had pointed out—at some volume—there was no such thing as a peaceful life if other people wouldn’t let you have one. The kid’s village had been perfectly peaceful, up until it wasn’t. Leonie didn’t have a comeback for that. She and Piper entered the city together, and they left the city together.
When it became apparent that studied neutrality wasn’t going to be enough for Edelgard or Claude—when it became apparent to Claude and the other faction leaders, that is, since it had long since been apparent to people like Piper—they rehashed the argument. Leonie eked out a win that time, since there was a difference between Piper tagging along on a job versus leading them into a blighted field of war. It wasn’t much of a victory, but she’d take what she could get.
Piper still managed to make trouble, Saints bless them. Erika was five or six years older than Piper. She lived—had lived—in a crappy town on the way to Elmsford, where they were to be stationed. Leonie would never know how Piper met her, much less came to the conclusion that what Erika really needed was to be plucked out of her house and swept along with the army, but apparently that happened. Leonie shelled out for the girl’s apprenticeship fees—even though that was backwards, the family was supposed to pay them, and she knew they were just going to keep the money instead of using it to file the proper papers, so she’d be paying twice over for that shit—because it was better than being a kidnapper.
It said nothing good about the girl’s family that they let their daughter go off with a stranger so easily once the money was in hand. Then again, there was a lot about Erika that said nothing good about her family. She and Piper shared a certain flintiness that… no, maybe flint wasn’t quite right. Maybe she was more like volcanic glass, sharp and brittle in equal measure. Or maybe Leonie should leave the poetic whatevers to the poets and get on with life.
Leonie half-expected Erika to abscond as soon as they were away from the town, or maybe to wait until they got close enough to a city to make a break for it. That was… Leonie wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, but she wouldn’t have blamed her. She just hoped the girl stuck around long enough for Leonie to find her some better clothes and maybe get a few good meals under her belt.
Erika didn’t bolt, though. She and Piper stuck to each other like there was an invisible cord connecting them, never too far apart. No matter what Leonie did, Piper and Erika were there. Well, okay then.
7. Growing
Dear Lorenz,
I’m going to tie Piper to my saddle the next time we leave the fort. They’re like a truffle hog, only instead of finding mushrooms they sniff out wayward children. It must be some sort of ‘like calls to like’ situation because somehow I’ve added another damn apprentice to the damn fort. That makes two so far, but three apprentices running around is already a lot. I’m only one person! But they work hard and don’t complain, and I couldn’t just leave her there. (This one’s Sevi, she’s about 12 I think? Goddess, I’m a damn fool.) The Pinelli School of Fighting Real Good is apparently open for business.
Much love,
Your Leonie
8. Whirlwind
The Count and Countess Gloucester were aware that their son was… well, best-case-scenario was if they thought of it as “dallying below his station.” They knew Leonie existed was the important part. And they knew she was poor and common and who knew what else besides. But, well, there was a war on, and Gloucester had declared fealty to the Empire, and yet here Lorenz was. Defying his father’s political play was already grounds to be disowned, although it wasn’t official yet, and so, on one of the army’s many jaunts back to Garreg Mach—
“You’re sure?” Leonie asked, expression unusually still. Seteth required regular in-person reports from the leaders of the forts, and she’d been able to time her visit back to Garreg Mach with that of the army. Lorenz nodded.
“I am.”
“Your father will hate that,” she said, testing. Lorenz brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles.
“I can’t see how it’s his business,” he said haughtily. Leonie’s expression softened, and she smiled crookedly as he kissed her fingers again.
“Alright then, let’s do this.”
On a pleasant summer’s day, the weather neither glorious nor ominous, Lorenz and Leonie were married. They had the ceremony not in the cathedral, but in a clearing in the woods outside the monastery walls. Rather than the cream of Fodlan high society, it was attended by their friends—some of whom, indeed, did constitute important players in Fodlan high society, but also included merchants’ sons and other commoners, including a certain famous mercenary and the carefully-scrubbed apprentices of another mercenary.
“… It is my sincere pleasure to present our newly married couple, Mr. And Mrs. Pinelli,” Seteth concluded, smiling. Their friends, true to form, made their enthusiasm abundantly clear. Raphael’s whooping in particular alarmed several previously-unseen forest birds into flight. Leonie, also true to form, threw rather than tossed the bouquet, beaning Ignatz hard enough to send his glasses flying in an explosion of petals. Ah, Leonie. Ignatz, for his part, did not seem particularly distressed by this turn of events, especially not as Flayn fluttered around him with concern, bestowing gentle touches all over his face and hair. When Claude triumphantly held up the wayward glasses, it was Flayn who eased them onto the artist’s face and received his blushing thanks.
9. More the merrier
Piper’s tendency to bring home other children did not abate. If anything, it got worse as the war progressed because a) Leonie’s defenses were lowered, b) Lorenz was a soft touch, and if he was in the vicinity he caved almost immediately, and c) the more children there were in the Pinelli entourage, the more children there were to gaze piteously at her. Under ordinary circumstances, the students of the Pinelli School of Fighting Real Good were, she was pleased to say, tough, unscrupulous bastards who would as soon gut a man as shake his hand, but when they came upon a kindred spirit, well.
Most of them did leave in time. Churches, foundling schools, and extended family served as safe havens. Leonie felt less like she was collecting children and more like she was shuffling them about. But a few chose to stay with Leonie and Lorenz and Piper and the rest.
The fourth to stay was River, who was good with her hands and good with the horses. She looked at Piper like they were a miracle, and when Leonie took her aside for a private chat, she looked at Leonie that way too. All Leonie said was, in general terms, that if River wanted to use a different name or grow their hair out or wear dresses—or not—that was fine by her.
Leonie was competent with a needle, in a rough and ready way, but she blessed Erika and Sevi because they were good at it. They made it look like the easiest thing in the world to tailor one of Erika’s dresses for River. Weirdly enough—except that it wasn’t that strange, now was it—Leonie would have loved to do it herself, but it was more important that it be done well.
They were staying at an inn at the time, in a city on the border of Ordelia and Gloucester. Lorenz had paid for two rooms for them all, and Leonie was grateful for the extravagance now. The other girls wanted to cram into the master room with River, but it was only Leonie she called for through the crack in the door. Leonie went.
River was looking at her with a jumble of hope and apprehension and who-knew-what-else on her face. A flurry of memories presented themselves to Leonie, but she smiled through them at the girl in front of her.
“What do you think?” they both asked, and River looked surprised and Leonie smiled and shook her head.
“I think that’s my question,” she tried again. River ducked her head and shrugged, peeking over her shoulder. Ah, yes. The mirror. It was one of the really big, expensive ones, long enough for a person to see their whole self in. They were silent as they approached it. River positioned herself squarely in front of the thing. Leonie stood at her shoulder and watched the emotions play across River’s face, reflected.
“Well?” River asked again.
“I think you look great,” Leonie said honestly. She watched shy agreement unfurl in the mirror.
As the war progressed, Leonie’s purview at the border increased. This involved a certain amount of in-person check-ins and inspections, and of course Piper surveyed the towns they passed through for more strays. Leonie would have left them and the rest of the traveling circus at Elmsford, which was her base of operations, but she knew that was probably the fastest possible way to provoke a mutiny. A tiny, adolescent mutiny, but still.
She resigned herself to being trailed by her increasingly eccentric collection of youths.
The addition of Kelton was the most legitimate on paper. His family said something about making a man of him which was... huh okay. Sure. They were extremely lucky that Balthus and Raphael were traveling with them at the time; Leonie let the shirtless guys do the talking—and flexing—and, by the Goddess, they had actual articles of apprenticeship signed and sealed by the time they needed to return to their camp. Good grief.
Kelton was a sweet kid. He reminded Leonie a little of Ignatz, and a little of Lorenz and, weirdly enough, a little of Annette. He was close to Piper’s age and bubbled with questions about everything. His general earnestness made Leonie, in her secret heart, suspect he was just a promising city away from running off. None of them had yet, but she was always bracing for it.
He didn't. He also didn’t know what he was doing in the woods—being a city boy more than any of the others—but he learned fast and didn't complain. He seemed to bond with Sevi, but when Lorenz was around Kelton became his second shadow. That was fine. It was more than fine, actually, and Leonie was very careful not to smile when Kelton started exhibiting some of Lorenz's mannerisms.
The war was almost over by the time Marley came to stay with them. Piper must have some kind of extra sense that Leonie didn’t. She'd never even known there were other people like her out there, even if Marley approached it from the other side. For him it was ‘a trousers, not skirts, plus a new haircut’ situation.
Leonie was glad Lorenz was back with them for good at that point. He and Kelton handled the guy stuff, and she just kind of hung around in case they needed anything stabbed or filled with arrows. They didn't, but the thought was what mattered. Moral support, that was what it was called.
Of course at that point it was beyond unreasonable to keep roaming the countryside, her and Lorenz and six adolescents. Good grief. Leonie had never, never considered that she might have kids and now she’d managed to end up with half a dozen of them. Admittedly, they weren’t her children, but they were her responsibility. Dang.
10. Break
Lorenz was summoned to Gloucester Hall immediately after the war ended. It would be his last visit there. While his family marked time in one of the forests near the Hall—fishing, sparring, and doing some light gear repair—Lorenz was the recipient of a tirade about duplicity, the importance of filial piety, and sullying one’s noble name. Well, Lorenz wasn’t a Gloucester any more and hadn’t been for some time. This additional piece of information was like soothing oil upon a flame. Many words, at high volume, were thereafter exchanged.
Lorenz’s ears were still ringing as he struggled to re-saddle his horse with shaking hands. He would not be inheriting Gloucester, not now or ever. Although he had suspected it since he’d left home against his father’s wishes, to know it was still a new wound.
The stablehand, keeping watch at the door, whispered, “Milord,” and made himself scarce. His mother’s shadow darkened the doorway a moment later. Lorenz stopped struggling with his horse’s tack.
“Mother,” he greeted quietly. The Countess Gloucester was considerably younger than the Count and had always been vain of her unlined face. Her forehead was creased now, though, brows drawn together, as she crossed the distance between them with her hand outstretched.
“Lorenz,” she said, and his heartache redoubled. He knew what she would say next, though. “Lorenz, just—say you’re sorry. Apologize. Your father will take you back when you’re a Gloucester again. He wants to. You know that,” the Countess implored. Lorenz shook his head.
“I… cannot,” he said softly.
“Lorenz, now isn’t the time for misplaced pride, you must—”
“I am not the one with misplaced pride, Mother,” Lorenz interrupted gently. “If,” he took a deep breath, “If Father wanted to keep me in the family, he could. No one is forcing him to disown me, except for himself.” Even the issue of names was not insurmountable, as there was legal precedent—but that was not important. He curled his fingers against his palms to hide their shaking.
“If you only apologize— Your future—”
“I don’t want that future any more. I… There are better futures, and I’d rather have one of them.”
“You could be a Count, maybe someday still the Alliance Leader. What could be better?”
Lorenz closed his eyes, breathed out long and slow. Goddess. He’d never—really—wanted to be the Alliance Leader. He’d only tried to want it, for his father. And Father had wanted it as a feather in his cap. Goddess. When he opened his eyes again, they were dry and clear.
“Sharing my life with the people I love, who love me, is better.” Without meaning to, he added, “It’s so much better.” More than he’d imagined, living in this great and empty house.
“I love you,” she said fiercely. Lorenz uncurled his fingers, extended a hand to her. It shook, despite his best efforts.
“Come with us,” he said, and for a moment—just a moment—he really thought she would say yes. “There’s a better life for me, and there’s a better life for you too. Mother, please.”
“Living in the woods with no home and no money is no kind of life,” his mother said, staring at his outstretched hand. “And you have no skills, except to govern. What good is a nobleman without a territory?” Lorenz tried not to show how that hurt. It wasn’t true, he knew that intellectually, but that she would say it, might believe it—Goddess. “Stay here, with us. With me.”
“Come with us,” Lorenz repeated.
“They’re not even your children,” his mother said bitterly. “Just orphans your wife collected.” Lorenz’s breath caught. All of their little band came from somewhere, and some of their families were dead and some wished never to see them again, and some still held out hope that when enough years had passed they might return. They’d all chosen to be there, and some were Pinellis and some were not, and Leonie and Lorenz navigated a careful path between letting them know they were loved and trying not to overstep or replace their charges’ birth families. He let his hand fall.
“I… I am theirs,” he said. His mother shook her head. She was crying, and part of Lorenz still cared about that, would probably always care about that, but—“Goodbye. Goddess keep you.”
“Goddess keep you, and Saints bless you,” his mother whispered. Lorenz left.
11. Respite
Working at the Officers Academy was… weird.
Leonie and Lorenz shared a room, and their apprentices were given two rooms and told to figure things out. Lorenz appeared alarmed by this system, but Leonie had shared a room with five other siblings and didn’t see what the problem was. After a short period, the kids figured out a system that worked for them and settled in.
Leonie taught general outdoor survival skills and archery. Lorenz taught reason and logistics. As for their apprentices, well… Erika was barely old enough to enroll when they took up residence at the monastery. She didn’t seem especially interested in what the students were up to, and things were still wonky what with the whole “new continental order” thing, so…
Piper, Marley, and River followed Leonie around all day, and Kelton, Erika, and Sevi trailed after Lorenz. Before too long, they agreed to be loaned out to various work rosters. This is how they discovered that River had a knack for woodwork and Kelton was a natural fletcher. Keeping track of which kids were working in what part of the monastery became involved enough that Lorenz was compelled to create a calendar specifically to track everyone’s whereabouts. But they seemed happy making themselves useful, and that was enough for Leonie.
12. Garreg Mach runs the Pinelli Apprentice Gauntlet
Erika did enroll as a student, come the next year. She went back and forth on whether she wanted to enroll at all—warfare in general not being of particular interest to her—but when she learned that, as a student, she’d have her own room, she couldn’t sign up fast enough.
The year had barely started when Kelton and River brought up whether it was “unfair” that, if they followed Erika’s example, they would both be enrolling the next year— “What if they make us share rooms?” “Erika didn’t have to go to class with any of us”—and Lorenz vetoed Leonie’s suggestion that Kelton and River simply duel to determine who had the “right” to enroll the following year. (“Besides,” Marley had added brightly, “Even if Kelton or River waited a year, then they’d be sharing with Sevi, unless she wanted to wait.” “I don’t,” Sevi had interjected. Youths.) Kelton tried to argue that he should be allowed to enroll first because he was older, to which River replied that the difference was one of mere months… Leonie stopped listening after that.
13. Memories
The White Heron Cup, with all its attendant memories, came around. Professor Pinelli and Captain Leonie’s vile displays of affection (handholding! Nose kisses! In public!) were interrupted by the news that their very own Erika had been selected as the representative for the Golden Deer House. They saw… very little of their charge the student in question right up until the night of the dance itself.
She was radiant as she stepped onto the dance floor. Lorenz and Leonie, standing in the corner of the room so as to be unobtrusive, may or may not have clutched each other’s hands as they watched her dance. When the judges declared the Golden Deer the winning house, it is possible that Captain Pinelli’s whoop of victory echoed around the hall. Erika, inured to such shenanigans, accepted the judges’ congratulations with perfect poise. She lingered in the hall long enough to accept the kudos of her classmates and then disappeared.
Lorenz found her outside, sitting alone near one of the courtyards, out of sight. Her arms were tightly crossed, and she was staring at nothing. She stiffened when he entered her field of vision, but she gestured for him to sit next to her. He did so, moving slowly. They sat in silence for a moment. Unseen in the shadows, Leonie hesitated. She should leave, but—well, she already knew she wasn’t going to.
“Erika?” Lorenz ventured.
“I’m fine,” she said shortly. She crossed her arms more tightly and looked away. “I’m fine.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Of course.” They subsided into a silence that was crowded with unsaid words and punctuated by the sounds that filtered through the air from the ongoing revelry. The moonlight caught in her hair and the curve of her cheek, making her look terribly young.
“I liked it,” she blurted, then covered her face with both hands. He watched helplessly as she hunched over herself, trying to disappear. “Not the magic, the dancing. I…” He waited, but she remained silent.
“That is wonderful, that you liked it,” he tried. “You were magnificent.” When she raised her head, her expression was hollow.
“I always thought… She and Piper love it, you can tell. They don’t like the, the danger but they like the fighting, the training, the waking up before sunrise… I just thought, maybe the way I feel is more quiet, you know? I think it’s okay. I’m okay at it. But then I do this, and I… I liked it.” Her face crumpled, and she hid it in her hands again.
“That is wonderful,” Lorenz said again. “It’s good to find things you enjoy.”
“What am I supposed to do after this? I don’t—I can’t—I don’t want to join the army, but what else…” Lorenz huffed almost silently through his nose and reached out, slowly, to lay a hand on her shoulder. She turned towards him, leaning into the touch, but didn’t uncover her face.
“There are positions for dancers who do not work for the army,” he reminded her. “Many of them, in fact. Civilian dancers perform in music halls and opera houses, and the like.”
“Can I, though? I’m a mercenary, a thief, I don’t—” she uncovered her face at last, only to hide it against his jacket. Almost inaudibly, she said, “I don’t want to leave, please, I don’t—” Oh, that was—there was the crux, Lorenz suspected.
“My dear child,” Lorenz said gently, “We will never send you away. Certainly not for finding something you love.” Her shoulders hitched, a sound escaping, and he knew he’d finally heard what she was trying to say. “If you choose to leave, that is one thing, but you will always have a home with us. Regardless of occupation or ambition or any of it. Whoever you become, diva or maestro or, or barroom singer, the Captain and I will always greet you with open arms.” Leonie, eavesdropping, thought of Lorenz back in their Academy days, so eager to win his father’s approval. She thought of him walking out of his parents’ home, dry-eyed and white-faced. She wrapped her arms across her torso and stayed silent.
Erika cried a little longer, growing softer, and protested again that she didn’t dislike the sword, that she was good with it, that she could still become a fighter or a mercenary. Lorenz cupped the back of her head and tried to explain, “We taught you to fight and hunt and plan because that is what we know how to do, not because it is all you should ever do, nor all you should become. But there is a future that is calling you, and I speak for the Captain and myself when I say that you should pursue it, if you wish.” Erika sniffled and at last straightened. She wiped ineffectually at her eyes. Lorenz produced a kerchief—a simple square of sensible, much-washed fabric—and she dabbed at her face.
“My makeup,” she muttered fretfully. Lorenz offered her a small smile.
“Ah, a problem where I can assist. Most gratifying,” he said. The girl laughed, a little wetly.
“Not even you have emergency touch-up makeup hidden in your formal wear, I refuse to believe it.” Leonie, still unseen, took this as her cue to steal away.
14. Highlights
In the fullness of time, all six of their charges enrolled in the school. It was probably one of those irony things that the one who was most interested in the coursework was Piper, who was also the youngest and therefore had to wait the longest.
General highlights from the Pinelli School of Fighting Real Good passing through the Officers Academy:
Erika was nominated as the Dancer for the Golden Deer and, not to put too fine a point on it, annihilated the competition. (“You can just call it ‘winning’ like a normal person,” Erika had sighed, fond despite her inescapable adolescence. Before the evening ended, she allowed first an openly gloating Leonie and then a I-am-so-proud-but-must-hide-it Lorenz to spin her around the ballroom floor.)
Kelton founded the Garreg Mach Poetry Salon, which became—according to him—the place for the finest minds dedicated to the poetical arts to meet and mingle. Oh, and he fell into the giant stinky flower in the greenhouse, had to be pulled out of it by the greenhouse keeper and her assistant, and narrowly avoided losing his lunch into it, which Leonie considered to be something of a milestone as well.
Sevi and River swapped years. The younger girl won the fishing competition in her year and the Interhouse Reason Tournament. Like Kelton, she enrolled under her own family name rather than Pinelli, which did almost nothing to hide her connection to Professor Pinelli and Captain Leonie. Professor Pinelli’s aura of smugness after her Interhouse Tournament win didn’t help.
River, following Erika’s example, enrolled as a Pinelli and let the chips fall as they may. She’d been largely absent for the preceding year, having undertaken an informal apprenticeship with a local carpenter, and returned to her teacher’s workshop often during her days off. Even the discovery that she had an aptitude with pegasi proved but a mere distraction—as exhilarating as flying was, her heart was in the workshop.
Marley, breaking with tradition, offered to graciously allowed Piper to enroll in what was “rightfully” his year. The dynamic duo of Marley and Piper proved so trying to their various professors that even Captain Leonie looked sorry. Well, a little sorry. Once or twice. Maybe once. (“Just imagine: it’s you, all six of them, and you’re camping during a four-day rainstorm. I threw them both into a lake.”)
15. Supporting the arts
Most of the kids graduated from the Officers Academy with some notion of what they wanted to do next—even if the answer was not that. It got easier after the first graduation, since there was, as Lorenz liked to call it, precedent. Well, it got easier for the kids. For Lorenz and Leonie there always seemed to be some… fretting.
“It’s not that far,” Lorenz said, not for the first time. They were hypothetically getting into bed, but in actuality, Leonie was pacing.
"There might be strange men. What if something happens to her?"
"Leonie," Lorenz interrupted for the first time during this litany of worry. "If I said what you just said, do you have any idea what would happen to me?"
"What?" she asked, sounding baffled. Lorenz stood and took both her hands.
"There may be strange men. What if something happens to Erika?" he asked in an earnest voice. Her puzzlement was instantly replaced by irritation.
"Hey, fucko, I'll have you know that—oh." Sheepishness suffused her expression.
"Oh indeed," Lorenz echoed. She buried her face against his chest, and he promptly tucked his arms around her. "I do believe you would bodily throw me into the nearest body of water, if you did not encourage Erika to do the deed herself."
"It's a useful skill," Leonie said absently. Lorenz was more than familiar with his wife’s feelings on the topic, and had in his time been thrown in some fashion or another by all the children in their care.
"Darling, what has you so concerned? You know Erika is a capable young woman."
"We..." she trailed off in favor of pressing herself more closely against him. "It makes no sense."
"Yes?" He coaxed. He suspected the answer. Leonie sighed.
“What if she needs us, and we don’t even know?”
“She will be fine. It’s a dance troupe,” he insisted, ignoring his own pang of worry.
“Those actors get up to some shady business,” Leonie mumbled. Lorenz sighed but carded his hand through her hair.
“And what were you getting up to a year after you left the school?”
“That’s not a fair comparison.”
“Isn’t it?” he asked. She sighed against his chest and looped her arms around the back of his neck. They swayed from side to side, a silent dance.
It had been Lorenz whom Erika had confessed her interest to, but Leonie was the one who’d inquired at the local theater about opportunities. When it became apparent that Erika loved it well enough to hone her talent into real skill, it was Leonie who had suggested that she might find a position with a bigger theater, in a bigger city. When Erika raised the question of cost—she’d no more come from money than Leonie had—Leonie had only said that they would pay for her education and continued helping the girl arrange for recommendations. Lorenz and Leonie had been awarded miscellaneous purses for various deeds performed during the war, and although raising six children was hardly inexpensive, there was still a little money left over.
Lorenz had, in his possession, a box of mementos. There was an embroidered handkerchief, a sea shell from a beach he’d never seen, and a stone with a hole in the middle, among other such trinkets. There were also several scraps of paper with drawings she’d let him see over the years. They were nice, though untutored. He could still remember the way she’d smiled, crooked but light, and said, “Not much time for drawing when you’re hungry.” So, after quietly checking with Erika that yes, this was something the girl actually wanted, he stood back and let Leonie charge ahead.
“Erika will be fine,” he reminded his wife. “She is capable and canny, and she can cut the wings off a fly before it even knows what’s happened. She will have her sword and her wits, and she’s not afraid to speak her mind.”
“She’ll be fine,” Leonie sighed. Lorenz kissed the top of her head. In a louder voice, she repeated, “She’ll be fine, and she knows how to reach us.”
“Exactly, my darling,” Lorenz agreed. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her. “Come to bed.”
16. And one more
As time passed, they spread out, moving to this city or that one. But every so often, there was this: a beautiful spring day. Soft, bright clouds billowed silently overhead, and a light breeze stirred. Near the stream by the monastery, there was a small clearing. Leonie and Marley were up to their elbows in fish guts, cheerfully discussing what they should have for dinner. Piper was standing in the stream, pants rolled up past their knees, trying to catch more. Sevi, visiting from Fhirdiad where she was studying magic, had crawled across the grass and was trying to drop a flower crown on Leonie’s head without spoiling her pretty skirt with said guts. The garland matched the one she’d already bestowed upon Lorenz. Erika, flowers in her hair and petals all over her skirt, was speaking animatedly to Lorenz about some new ballet as her hands worked busily, fashioning yet another garland. Kelton, on leave from his posting in Goneril, was pouring tea and nodding along to Erika’s words. River spoke a quiet word of thanks as Kelton set a cup of tea near her knee, but she made no move to drink it immediately. Her hands, too, were busy, and her lap was covered in wood shavings, and there was a small but steadily-growing pile of wooden buttons by her other knee. Each of them was as bright or quiet, cheerful or calm, as their nature was inclined. The day was warm, the year was young, and they had—so much time.