The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 282 - The Unwelcome Roar Of Billowed Flames, The Sparks Striking Royal Tinder, & The Gentle Glow Of Waiting Embers

Chapter 282: Chapter 282 - The Unwelcome Roar Of Billowed Flames, The Sparks Striking Royal Tinder, & The Gentle Glow Of Waiting Embers

"I should continue on. I have a few more stops to make."

"Of course you should. Don’t let me delay you from your... errands."

Ondua began to step past the dark haired man when Anper added two quieter but no less venomous sentences.

"And don’t call me that. You know I’ve always hated it but never stopped."

The Hero of the last Descent paused without turning around. A sad smile spread on his face. When they first started getting along and he began to call the man by a short name, there had been no fire in that assertion.

The Goltbred wasn’t sure exactly when it began... that he started ignoring its existence. Refusing to see the much more genuine displeasure that had blossomed as opposed to the first kind from the young man - who just wanted to be taken seriously by everyone.

"Yes, I remember. Sorry about that. Some habits are difficult to break."

He left some of his willful ignorance aside, thinking about everything more deeply than usual. Everything. Ondua planned to continue on toward the fountain and the stall to buy snacks for Elua’s personal servant.

With certainty of that now, he would even buy her extra - and make the woman promise to ask more *directly* next time in exchange for it. A daughter that liked to tease him to get her way even though he would give her anything was *enough*.

"Have a good evening, Anper."

With that parting line called out loudly, he left his former friend standing alone in the marketplace. The crowd started to move even further away from the brunette. The mortals felt a mild aversion for the zone of spirit swirling around his form and the cultivators could feel the intent spiraling out in more ’clear’ terms.

Terms that mostly only appealed to some of the women that watched him walk past.

There were times that Yatrel displayed a bit of tendency towards ’careful violence’ with him... and he’d gotten used to that ever since they became an official item so long ago. She never went too far, but always took it closer towards a ’bad end’ than he felt anyone else would possibly put up with. For his part, he had his own tendency that emerged which Yatrel...

Willingly dueled other women to keep hers.

’Whatever she talked about with our eldest, she’ll probably try to hold some of it back.’

The often friendly man smirked, a little less ’nice’ looking than usual... but instantly a lot sexier to the few sets of female eyes that were tracking him and his confident walk. That expression was born from picturing making his beautiful wife spill everything she knew, using the method that worked best on her.

As many times as it took. As long as it took.

No matter how the noise would make breakfast in the morning very awkward for the rest of the camp. He could always ignore their discomfort.

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

It was not how Elua er Goltbed wanted to spend her night - especially after the middle of her day - but watching over Onya while she *willfully ignored* the other side of the camp was at least a kind of distracting... in its own sort of way.

Earlier, unable to stand the wails of discomfort from her sister, she had used her Frost Mimicry to chill some fruit she had hidden. After cutting it in small enough parts for the girl not to choke on, she tended to the reddish blonde haired child when her father came into the tent... with a strange look on his face.

One that latched right on her mother.

He handed the small cultivator a basket of food after taking a single jar out. Then he took his wife by the hand and pulled her along behind him. A woman that almost skipped excitedly to keep up with her husband.

The only other ’warning’ was the nursemaid’s funny squirmy look and reddening face.

’She both knew what usually happened in that circumstance, from seeing them like that before and... ugh.’

By default, Elua had never engaged with the layer of ’sensual’ feelings that may or may not exude from her parents in this life. It was one of the first things she set up a spirit fragment to actively filter out! Their behaviors with each other were their own business.

As a child, she wasn’t exactly allowed to escape the house - but of course now, she wished she could escape the whole competition grounds with the dozing little bundle in her arms. Maybe never come back to the estate again!

’I did *not* need to feel our nursemaid’s desire to go peek on my parents doing *that*.’

Worse, was when she even tried to warn the woman that Yatrel was not that forgiving. The shifty eyes of the servant that was somehow different than ’caught doing something for the first time’.

Even without wanting to, it made her believe that her parent’s bedroom might need to be looked into immediately when she returned. There was clearly a peeking spot to plug that at least this one servant used somewhere.

"Little River Bend, I want to gouge out all my memories of those few minutes. Do you think Qat would mind?"

The sleeping girl wouldn’t be able to answer such a complex question even if she were up and pulling on her sister’s hair like usual. Still, sometimes just voicing things aloud instead of keeping it in her thoughts forced her to realize she was being ridiculous.

"Yes, of course she would mind. Maybe just a quick seal, then. A few days reprieve. Less risk of mistakes."

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

Klaytei arranged the small feast on a plate with meticulous care. The plums formed a perfect circle around the center, while the sweet treats were laid out in a decorative pattern between them like the spokes of a wheel. She stepped back to assess her handiwork with critical eyes.

"Not quite right..."

She adjusted two of the sticks to create a more pleasing symmetry before she nodded with satisfaction. The presentation wasn’t merely aesthetic for her own enjoyment... it was strategic! The Goltbred Patriarch had returned with far more treats than she’d requested for only the price of admitting she wanted them for herself.

The unexpected bounty presented an opportunity she couldn’t ignore.

After wiping her fingers, they reached for her hair to smooth it down while daydreaming about the situation.

"No, that’s too obvious."

She selected one of the plums and bit into it while considering her approach. The spicy-sweet combination was not really to her taste, but Elua had insisted she take half of them.

"Is there any point to a midnight snack if shared alone?"

She spoke the line aloud while adopting the wistful tone she’d been practicing. She shook her head - too theatrical! Dima would see through that immediately as it wasn’t how she usually interacted with her. Her princess required a different approach.

’Although maybe it could still work if I imply these are the items I walked all through the markets for and were refused by my lady...’

Klaytei prided herself on understanding the personalities of people she worked with regularly - it was what made her valuable to her employer beyond mere loyalty. Interacting effectively with other staff made all things go smoothly. In this case, the woman she was interested in had a strange complex over her young charge.

"Yes, it would be ridiculous not to use it!"

The servant checked that her lady was still ’happily’ occupied with her sister, then slipped out of her small tent with a servant’s quietness. The wrapped and covered plate was held steadily in her hands. The only thing she lacked was some of the pickled carrots and the melon - but she wasn’t about to take from a mother and child without permission.

The administrative sections she passed were largely quiet at this time of night. Most sensible workers had retired to prepare for another day of the competition. Most, but not all.

Light still glowed from the tent area assigned to attending Guild staff. Klaytei slowed her pace when she could make out Dima’s silhouette through the rather thin fabric of the cheaper tent. She appeared hunched over ledgers and documents.

’Working late again. So predictable. Of course, I was planning for that...’

The servant paused only three steps from the entrance. Her confidence wavered and suddenly she felt a little uncertain. The plate felt heavier in her hands and her ’master plan’ jumbled together in her mind. Worse, she couldn’t exactly set the food down anywhere to slap her cheeks to psyche herself up!

’Why are you second guessing it again? All this time, you’ve faced down angry merchants and navigated family politics alongside my lady. R-romance is nothing!’

Yet, interrupting the former liaison sitting at the branch with her professionalism always made her heart flutter in a most unprofessional way. The few times she talked to her privately in the kitchen area of that building was still more like ’her turf’. This?

It was like entering her private room!

After drawing in a steadying breath, she announced her presence before she could chicken out.

"Excuse me, Miss Dima? I really hope I’m not interrupting..."

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

Within their tent in the Goltbred’s area but across from the amorous couple, the Talcres couple prepared for bed.

"They’re certainly... enthusiastic, aren’t they?"

Zyris’s voice carried amusement as she brushed out her long hair. The sounds from their friend’s ’main’ tent - though muffled by distance and fabric - were still occasionally quite audible across the camp.

Meyran looked up from the scroll he’d been pretending to try and read as a distraction. The expression on the man’s face was somewhere between embarrassment and humor.

"Both of them are young. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. Just happy our rooms at their estate were further away and... more solid."

His obviously strained tone made his wife laugh as she set down her brush and joined him on their sleeping mat. Years of marriage, both with each other and with their past partners, had made nightly rituals a comfortable affair. The newlywed period for them was long over.

"It reminds me of us, you know. Being excited by life."

Meyran raised an eyebrow.

"I don’t recall you ever being quite so vocal when-"

Her finger pressed to his lips as she conceded the point with a teasing smile.

"Perhaps not. But the passion for so many things was there."

His hand found hers and their fingers twined together with the intimacy of long partnership. They sat in ’silence’ for a moment, but it was ruined a bit my a particularly loud cry of the Goltbred Patriarch’s name. Zyris wanted to change the subject, but the only thing that came to mind was more of the same.

"A-ah, uhm. Do you think that their daughter will be like that with her husband too? Yatrel kept telling me things about how the young Elua... *is*, already."

The question hung in the air, though his wife felt immediately awkward about gossiping. Despite the content... Meyran considered it carefully, as was his way.

"Their match was arranged, but they do seem to be rather infatuated. It would not surprise me. Though if so, we may as well not share a camp with them next time."

Zyris chuckled before leaning against her husband’s thin shoulder. Her voice softened as some nostalgia overtook her. The relationship with her second husband was ’primarily’ one of shared interest, not quite unlike an arranged marriage. But humans were rarely so rigid and their motivations were often not clear cut.

"I’m reminded of how you used to look at me when you thought I wasn’t watching."

"Used to?"

The man’s tone was light, but his sudden comforting grip on her shoulder made her smile. She reached a hand up to touch Meyran’s face lovingly.

"Yes, you still do, sometimes. When you think I’m distracted by my research. But I meant before you asked me to marry you."

"I guess I’ve never been subtle."

"No, you haven’t. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you."

The sounds from across the camp had finally quieted - a break in the ’storm’ as Yatrel finally gave up some hints of what the daughter had told her - but neither of them noticed. They were lost in their own world of milder comforts.

The couple was quite the counterpoint to the passionate heat and furtive yearnings of those still finding their way.

Like a certain pair of orphans who wished they had taken up Elua on her offer of fleeing to her exterior camp. They’d worried about being alone together and how their minds would race - but surely they would think of such things *less* than now!