Nations on the Brink (storyline)/Was it Time? (vignette)

Was It Time - a Vornavis Vignette

Oldegarde listened by the door, silent and pensive. She could hear the murmuring voices within the southern-facing tower room, though the conversation was frequently punctuated by a racking cough and followed by a wheezing intake of air. With practiced ease, she reached into the air of the room and drew the moisture from it, sending the chill offender into a nearby urn for that purpose. She’d been at it for days as healers came and went.

The lung rot had returned.

She felt a deep sadness invade her soul at the thoughts that followed.

For as long as she could remember, from a time before she went to study in Elsreth, the Malwind family was the kindest, most generous family. And every day that she was in the stuffy libraries of the Hall of Mages, studying, learning, casting, she was thinking of coming home and serving at Vornavis.

This isn’t what she’d thought that would mean.

From beyond the door, she heard the voice of an aged healer. Oldegarde didn’t like her very much, she was always too strict, to judgment, and never gave good news.

“You’ll have to write to Salnim now, Athalia.”

“He already knows, yet father insists he stays with Kasendra.”

“Despite what you may think, your father does not always know what is best for him.”

A long silence filled the air, one that was broken by the door suddenly opening.

“Stop slouching, Magister Brindlestraffe,” the terse voice of the aged healer snapped.

Oldegarde immediately straightened her posture and snapped to attention, the fleeting thought that the old bag should be a drill sergeant creeping into her thoughts for probably the fifth time this week.

The healer stalked off, leaving Oldegarde to meet Athalia’s eyes through the frame of the door. There was always, and forever, a barrier between them.

Quietly, Athalia sighed.

Oldegarde took a hesitant step forward but paused.

“He should come, Lady.”

Athalia nodded.

“Father is worried over the words of the emperor and insists my brother stays at his wife’s side.” Turning towards her now sleeping father, Athalia sighed. “Something is not right, Oldegarde.”

Helpless, the magister only nodded.