The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 118 - Do Sheep Worry About Wool Being Pulled Over Their Eyes?

Chapter 118: Chapter 118 - Do Sheep Worry About Wool Being Pulled Over Their Eyes?

A certain group of elders gathered for a second night in a row, this time in a dimly lit study within their estate grounds. The room’s heavy wooden panels seemed to absorb their hushed voices, lending the usual air of conspiracy to the proceedings. It was here they discussed the plan to steal the holdings from the Goltbred family.

It was also here that the surgery to implant the masking tool was performed... as well as the flesh sculpting imposed upon an unluckily naive merchant’s apprentice. The body double part of their plan had apparently been a wasteful precaution. However, it now seemed like taking many more such insurances and safeguards would have been wiser.

"The Goltbred girl has been making waves quicker than we anticipated. Her performance at the bridal test was... unprecedented."

The eldest of them began in a voice gravelly with age. He sat in an ornate chair while the others stood in a semi-circle in front of him.

"Yes, she’s becoming a complication unlike any we dared anticipate."

A sound came from the pressure that her ’father-in-law’ used to clench his jaw. He had dared. He had pushed them to look closer at her themselves years before during the first warning signs. The man felt now, after that argumentative confrontation with the spiritual witch, that they must have been afraid he was right.

’They waited like cowards and now we have a wolf in sheep’s clothing in our pasture.’

Knowing that two different Yecines had now compared her to that sort of animal would not have made Elua happy... even if thinking of their family as a bunch of black wooled sheep might have eased the feeling of disgust some.

"We have a problem, gentlemen. We can’t deny her access to the estate, entirely. It would raise too many questions and alienate our pawn further."

"But... we can’t have her just wandering freely among our women."

"Already she has riled some of them."

"Lirades is being smug and proud once again.

"Who knows what ideas they might plant in their heads if they are allowed the time to join forces?"

Quiet came as the conspirators each considered the conundrum after saying their piece. Finally, Anper er Yecine decided to speak. There was a solution he felt was the most viable... and he hated articulating every syllable of it.

"If we are expected to provide her a room like the others, we merely must provide one far from the women’s quarters with a reasonable excuse for its convenience."

The elders looked at him with varied expressions before they gauged each other. The eldest of them eventually rolled his hand and prompted the younger swordsman to keep talking. Steely gray eyes looked toward a path forward he felt only he could see as he paced between the watchers.

"We offer her a room in the east wing. It’s isolated from the areas we don’t want her in and easy to monitor with attendants. If she chooses to use it, we’ll know exactly where she is."

"And if she doesn’t use it or refuses it?"

A cold smile grew on the lips of Anper er Yecine. He could only wish as much, but expected that was a foolish desire.

"Then we have grounds to question her. As long as we plan the location well, maybe even make a show of renovating or preparing it especially for her... then a refusal will harm her position with the remaining elders that were not as infuriated by my daughter’s behavior at a public event."

The elders nodded slowly, seeing the logic in the plan, before rapidly discussing it with each other.

"Either way, we maintain control."

"We present it as a gesture of goodwill, while effectively limiting her movements among our people without our knowledge."

"It could work... but we mustn’t get complacent, either."

"We’ll position servant guards discreetly. If she tries to sneak about, we’ll know immediately."

The younger men discussed among each other while the eldest of the group tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the armrest of his chair. When they finally stopped their chatter, he gave his final thought.

"It’s a sound strategy, but we shouldn’t underestimate her. She’s proven... resourceful."

Anper closed his eyes for a long blink. He had once thought the same, back when he first suspected her of having a questionable Astralism that affected her servants memory. However, ’resourceful’ was not the word he would use now. She was more like a *force* that didn’t need to find any clever way to act. A storm cloud... looking for lightning rods to drain its energy on.

"All the more reason to keep her where we can watch her. We can’t afford any more surprises and we can’t have her calling attention to us. For the good of the family."

The group murmured the last phrase in rote agreement with the man. The tense atmosphere in the room eased as their plan adjustments took shape. For a while, the men talked among each other about the main preparations... noting that their merchant contact was cutting it close.

Their plot didn’t require a lot of moving parts, but it did require the right ones used at the right time. Only a few minutes later, the meeting concluded with a last confirmation from the faction leader.

"Very well. We’ll prepare and offer the Goltbred girl her own room. Let her think of it as a sign of acceptance, if she likes... or show her to be unreasonable if she does not."

The man who went along with their plots to hide his daughter’s gender, to marry that child to the daughter of his old friend, and ultimately to rid the region of Ondua and Yatrel er Goltbred... stood looking up at the sliver of moon in the sky. His face was marred by a grimace, feeling as though things had never been going anywhere near perfectly to plan.

That daughter of *his* had been an unimpressive disappointment while that daughter of *theirs* remained an undiscovered power. That alone frustrated him. So did the words she spoke of supporting his ’heir’. They had been voiced as if there were not years of resources and training devoted to the talentless child!

’Just like her father. Always assuming. Thinking we must be unhappy performing our duties... while simultaneously expecting that we aren’t doing a perfectly reasonable amount of recognition for our people.’

The only thing Anper was unhappy about was feeling the loss of control. The resources of their cultivator family were spread too thin with their numbers. The holdings they would gain through this farce of a marriage and subsequent dark plan would help, but it was only a bandage.

Creating many well known individuals of the Yecine name seemed further and further unlikely as their numbers bloomed... and they also risked unfilial behavior the more obvious it became that other families had better results with single powerhouses.

<---

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky as Navuill adjusted the straps of his pack. He stood at the edge of The Ironclad Order’s outer courtyard, watching as other cultivators hurriedly prepared for their resupply missions. Despite so often being used for local guard work, he was also being sent somewhere out of the city.

His gaze kept drifting to his cousin, who had arrived not long ago and was being briefed while speaking with the senior mission leader near the supply wagons. The swordswoman secured her own goods with practiced effort, having trained for years like the rest of the Yecine... and also having spent much of early working years on such tasks.

’Why does how hard she works not get seen by him?’

The relative knew it was smarter not to have such questions, but he couldn’t help it. Anper was the one who kept bringing him into the matter and who had told him her secret. Being expected to agree with him was hard.

Qatrand’s black hair was neatly tied back, an unusual change to the familiar color. Both qualities were stark contrast to the straight flowing blonde he’d seen at the wedding. In their almost matching dark colored suits, it would be hard to picture the ’young man’ as being the one clad in silver and surrounded by well-wishers.

Yet, in nearly this time yesterday, it was the case. The young man’s spirit picked up waves of conflicting emotions from his cousin - ’determination’ and ’duty’... and an undercurrent of ’ache’ that he assumed was for Elua. Navuill’s Empath Astralism always did catch things he felt he shouldn’t see.

He shook his head, trying to clear the emotional feedback. During the wedding, being anywhere around either Elua or Qatrand had become more... intense. The energetic sensation during the vow sealing was especially... something.

"Navuill!"

A voice called out, tinged with an urgency that interrupted his contemplation on the Divinity he did not understand in the first place. The young swordsman turned to see the same senior approaching that had been talking to his cousin.

"I need you to move out immediately. You’ll be riding with your cousin and taking vanguard with the group. Keep an eye out for any disturbances as we approach the anomaly campsite. The Snakes say that things are under control, but we already had people get caught in that trap once."

The young man nodded before saluting. Despite having just arrived from her wedding, Qatrand looked composed and ready for the mission. He himself remembered the day after his wedding and wondered how she managed to switch gears so quickly. Especially when their joining was so much happier than his.

As the many cultivators jogged to the station with packs on their back, Navuill found himself striding alongside his relative.

"I’m surprised they called you in so soon."

The silence between them had been too heavy and Navuill finally spoke after letting curiosity get the better of him. Pigeon blue eyes glanced at him neutrally before returning to the road.

"Duty doesn’t wait for our personal celebrations. In this case, the Order’s needs came first."

He couldn’t quite pin down the emotions in her spirit, but he didn’t think she was lying. For some reason he didn’t quite understand himself, he decided to press more.

"Still, it must be difficult to be called away so soon after-"

"It’s what’s expected of us as cultivators, as Yecine, and as Guild members."

The ’heir’ cut his line of questioning off, then seemed to soften a little. The swordswoman realized that he was only trying to make her feel better. Her low voice held more warmth when she spoke a last line.

"But thank you for your concern, Navuill. If I need to talk to someone, I will keep you in mind."

When they boarded their train, the conversation drifted amongst the group to the mission details. One young man couldn’t shake that something fundamental had shifted in Qatrand er Yecine. The cousin he saw always striving for the family’s approval seemed to have been gradually replaced in recent months by someone more... assured.

More dangerous to the perspective of her father, perhaps.

’Just how much more could she change before the coming Descent is through with?’