The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 223 - Honeyed Blood, They Used To Think... With Father Blind, To Willing Meek

Chapter 223: Chapter 223 - Honeyed Blood, They Used To Think... With Father Blind, To Willing Meek

Elua er Goltbred stepped over and placed the item on the table with the recovering man under the eyes of Karis er Malthen. He had seen one of these *treasured* by a well known member of his region.

"It will be marginally quicker if he holds on to this. I’ll want it back before the two of you leave the grounds. Okay?"

The scout nodded, accepting in his heart not to ask about the methods she used or the wealth she brandished. Curiosity was sometimes a scout’s ally, but others it was their downfall. He really was just glad things turned out fine for his friend and left it at that.

"The Descent matters more to him than a competition. Thank you for..."

He trailed off as the sound of bootsteps approached from the hall. The ’ghost’ had apparently made another attempt to return. Elua’s shoulders stiffened even before that achingly familiar voice of a cultivator carried through the doorway.

"I need to apologize properly to him. Please, I-"

"Your weapon failed. That’s being handled by my wife."

"It was handled. Nothing else requires discussion right now."

The brunette’s tone could have frozen water. She gathered her things and turned toward the exit, mint eyes fixed firmly ahead of her. The ancient cultivator tried to keep in mind that *that* face didn’t deserve her attention. Neither for the past it reminded her of, nor for the present accident.

She moved past the woman, then paused next to her Qat.

"Thank you for the wedding gift. It was very... convenient."

Without turning, her voice fell into its empty monotone. The curved blade wielder’s spirit flickered with confusion, something about the unemotional delivery striking her. But Elua was already continuing down the hall, and the Yecine heir had fallen into step beside her with natural ease.

The fragment of the reincarnator’s spirit in her fortress’s chest released complex ripples of emotion - ’satisfaction’ at the tendrils wrapping her tight, ’relief’ at finally walking away, and underneath it all, a deep current of ’exhaustion’ from maintaining control.

The walk back toward the dueling grounds remained quiet. Neither spoke until they were well clear of the storage room turned surgical drama theater. Several gazing competitors and staff moved quickly out of their path, reading something in the small Goltbred’s purposeful stride and the muscular Yecine’s accompaniment that suggested giving them space was wise.

"Your elders will have opinions about me sending you off for tools like one of your retainers."

Elua’s voice still carried traces of her earlier monotone, though a bit of warmth crept back in. Her grip on the bundle eased up now that they had distance from that particular betrayer... or at least their somehow repurposed remnant.

"They always have opinions."

The low response drew a softly exhaled sound that matched the flicker of ’amusement’ from the brunette. Her spirit gradually settled as they walked. Without much trouble ’composure’ returned over top a lingering ’disquiet’.

They approached the area where their region’s competitors waited between matches. Several faces turned their way, obviously curious about the medical crisis that had interrupted the proceedings. Murmurs of it had already traveled this way in the minutes since it happened.

Elua’s sweet smile slipped perfectly back into place.

"You should return to your matches, my love. I need to store these properly."

Her voice carried just enough volume to reach curious ears - the perfect image of an affectionate wife not wanting to delay her spouse any longer.

"Will you be alright?"

The low question came too quiet for a lot of those turning their ears to hear. Pigeon blues studied her face, seeing past the restored facade to the trouble beneath.

"Of course. I have years of practice being perfectly fine."

The fragment caught her brief flash of ’bitter’ amusement at her own words. The practice of pretending, plotting, and pursuing. Her personal 3 P’s of managing schemes.

"Elua?"

Ondua’s voice carried the particular tone of parental concern she had grown used to in this life. She turned slowly as her father approached from the direction of the medical station by the western field. By the looks of it, the senior medic must have spoken with him - his expression suggested he had already heard a rather interesting version of events.

"It was just a small accident that needed immediate attention, father."

Tendrils of protective spirit gradually disentangled themselves from the cute girl. Qat watched the man walk up. She somewhat trusted him to take care of her El until she was ready to talk about things. At the very least, the whispers of ’mischief’ let her know that his daughter had found a... distraction.

"I should go check the updated brackets."

Ondua nodded at his future son-in-law before focusing back on his eldest child. His brow furrowed at the specialized tools she carried. He knew what the healer said, but he knew better than to mention or question her about them directly where others might hear.

"The person I just spoke with seemed... quite impressed with your work."

"I’m sure he was."

They fell into step together to head toward the Goltbred camp.

"When did you find the time to develop this skill of yours?"

"Books are very educational."

Her voice maintained a playful lilt despite the weight of what had just occurred. After all, she had an image to maintain with him - especially now that she had displayed certain talents publicly. At a certain point, she knew he wouldn’t be able to allay his own suspicions.

’Well, this occasion still *very* tightly fits the angle of a prodigy. I learned to cut and stitch leather so ’quick’. Why couldn’t I have done the same with the anatomy of people?’

"I’m sure he exaggerated. I simply did what was necessary."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few steps before Elua opened her mouth once again.

"Speaking of necessary, I left that healing brooch you bought for me with the injured fighter."

A slight twitch appeared at the corner of Ondua’s eye. He distinctly remembered that particular piece costing him and being happy to pay it. He also remembered her being happy to receive it. At least, she had claimed it was like that when he presented the special jewelry to his little girl.

"You had to give him the *one* I bought you?"

"Mm. Well, it will help his recovery and it happened to be sitting on top. Though I’m a little concerned about security here..."

Her voice carried an edge to it that didn’t quite match her usual sweet facade. Teasing her father would be a nice distraction for a few minutes, but she had started planning for diversions much earlier before she knew he would arrive.

"After all, someone might notice its value. Especially after seeing me with those tools. They might think I have more interesting things worth... taking."

Ondua studied his daughter’s profile as they walked. Something in her tone suggested she wasn’t entirely worried about a thief approaching - the subtle *anticipation* in her voice wasn’t quite hidden enough.

It reminded him of times his wife baited traps for garden pests. Except back then, his little girl had at least pretended to be upset about Yatrel having to deal with them.

"Should I be concerned about this?"

"Oh no, father. I’m sure anyone who tried to take your gift and make off with it would learn a valuable lesson about proper respect for other people’s belongings."

The ancient cultivator may have no logical reason to see his gift as important. There was even a slight imperfection on it due to handling and the movement between auctions. Nonetheless, she had ended up growing attached to what had been given to her.

It was not to the level of her dress, nor was it a relic like the mirror, but it certainly had some modifications. The item would be easy to track... and obvious if it left the competition grounds.

"You seem upset."

The matter of fact statement made Elua slow her steps and she waited for him to do the same. As they came to a stop in the middle of the path, she dropped her smile and looked him in the face with her lusterless eyes.

"A little. Thank you for noticing."

"Is there anything I can do?"

The fact that he didn’t really flinch from her change made her feel complicated. Her voyeuristic spirit had certainly noticed how everyone else had regarded her with shock when she wasn’t walking and talking like her blood was made of honey. She studied his face, deliberately letting some of her ancient calculation show in her tilted gaze.

"Just... continue being exactly as you are, dad. Someone who notices when I’m upset and asks if they can help."

Her words carried ’gratitude’ for his attempted acceptance. There was a bit more testing of how he’d handle her showing more of herself as she let slip a bit more spirit than usual in his direction. His continued solidity led to just a touch of ’wonder’.

Having a father who truly cared past the glimpses of nature he had seen had never been her exact ’plan’. It was an option that only opened up because of so many combinations of events that forced her facade off kilter.

Yet, the proposition that he would still care even if she did something ’awful’ was growing more and more intriguing. She wondered if it was *his* own nature... Yatrel also had her own set of questionable morals, from a common social perspective.

’Qat would think it’s good for me to have people like this.’

She wasn’t as sure. Across from her, Ondua watched his daughter’s empty eyes softening at the edges due to some private thought. He recognized that calculating tilt to her head.

It was the same angle Yatrel used when planning how to deal with rivals for his attention. His sweet girl had certainly inherited her mother’s shrewd nature and even her possessive streak. But just like how he’d gotten used to his wife’s particular brand of intensity, he was learning to accept these glimpses of his daughter’s colder side.

After all, family traits were family traits.

"Alright, dear. This time just... don’t make it so that Qatrand has to seek our help before you bother to."

His tactic was sound, using her beloved to restrain and direct her. Yet, he had no way of knowing just how much deeper her nature ran than mere inheritance from his wife. That his little girl had once orchestrated the fall of entire cultivation organizations, not *just* single social rivals.

’Sometimes for suggesting they might use my partner to get me to do things~’