The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 290 - Calculated Connections On The Stage & At The Rail

Chapter 290: Chapter 290 - Calculated Connections On The Stage & At The Rail

The staging area at the edge of the competition grounds held workers so busily preparing that it had attracted the attention of the night market attendees. Troupe members and extra hires alike worked on last-minute changes - carrying panels, adjusting costumes, and marking positions for props.

Fusand led the Talcres woman through the chaos slowly turning into shape, noting how different the energy looked from when he’d left them just hours ago. Elua er Goltbred’s precise instructions, delivered through bird-mail, had accelerated what would normally take days of prep into a *very* compressed timeline.

’Getting things done must be easy if you throw enough money at it, huh?’

He quickly decided to stop thinking about it after considering he was also a ’project’ where her riches were being ’invested’ in. The teenager was learning a lot of bad lessons from the heiress and her family.

"Wait, is that-"

"Please don’t ask me to explain anything, I really did make a promise."

The sandy haired teen pleaded when Zyris pointed to a curved piece of scenery being hoisted into position by a temporary pulley system. The woman only nodded, too entranced by the glut of activity to argue. Eventually her gaze landed on a man with a certain ’presence’ directing several of the workers.

’Found the one in charge!’

Before the boy could even think to stop her, the Talcres made a sprint for the troupe master himself. The young cultivator hurried after her with his Plant Physique markings darkened muddy brown with stress. It didn’t ease very much, even when the woman bowed with exaggerated respect.

"Excuse me. I apologize for taking up your time, but I understand you’re preparing things for a special performance tomorrow."

The troupe master turned with a face that showed just as exaggerated politeness. He was an actor good at matching the energy of his partner, after all.

"Indeed. Though I’m afraid our rehearsals will be closed to spectators."

"No, I’m not here to watch! I’m here to help."

The fire in her eyes was sort of hard to match. Fusand caught up, bowing his head apologetically to the man before waving towards the older cultivator.

"This is one of my mentors. Zyris er Talcres. She’s... enthusiastic at the moment."

"I can paint, sew, build - almost anything you need. The Frozen Duskblade will be attending and I simply must contribute to this performance in some way."

The troupe master had seen this type before and exchanged an amused look with the teen that had helped out earlier under their employer’s request.

"She is a fan, I take it?"

"The most dedicated kind."

Fusand confirmed with a resigned smile and a twitching cheek as he began to think... that their master was also kind of the same as the woman. Only that behavior was limited towards Qatrand er Yecine, someone that Elua had an actual relationship with.

’Does that make it better... or not?’

As the boy pondered interpersonal matters, the older man stroked his chin while looking away from them.

"Well... we could use assistance with the costume alterations. A few of us had to take the early trains with the Descent signs..."

"Perfect! I’ve studied the regional textile trades and traditions extensively!"

The Talcres was already rolling up her sleeves and walking off. She took a half dozen steps then turned and hurried back. The older actor chuckled at her excitement and gestured toward a tent where several of his performers and a talented clothier that Elua had sent them were working with fabric.

"Just follow Mareg’s instructions. And please-"

"Absolute secrecy."

Zyris interrupted and promised him solemnly. She also looked toward her mentee and nodded.

"Though... if there is any need I could also pose as a character in the background? I have been told I have excellent posture."

The teenager covered his face with his hands but the troupe master just laughed at her boldness. It boomed across the staging area and made most of the workers look over.

"Let’s just start with the costumes, shall we?"

"I really am sorry for putting you in this position."

The voice softened considerably from her fervor as she stuck a hand on Fusand’s shoulder once again. She could feel how tense it was... and it increased her genuine remorse for using him to get where she wanted.

"It’s just... when it comes to this one thing, I lose all sense of propriety."

The young man’s expression and stance relaxed slightly.

"It’s alright. I understand having strong interests. I’ve also been lectured recently... for only thinking about one thing."

Nohre had really given it to him this morning. She was fed up with him touching on the subject so much just because of all the noise in camp that the Goltbred parents had caused.

’What else was I supposed to talk about with her but crabs?! It felt like everything else would twist back towards... towards...’

Fusand sighed heavily as Zyris let go and hurried off.

"I should probably stay and make sure she doesn’t... well..."

The man patted the teens shoulder sympathetically. He had his own problematic performers in the troupe. He had even been one himself at one time, for another group leader.

"Your friend warned us there might be some enthusiastic helpers tonight. It seems she anticipates everything."

They both watched the woman gesturing animatedly to the seamstress. The mortal was wide eyed for a while before getting her wits and nodding at whatever Zyris was saying. The disciple recognized the artisan as one that Elua had introduced them to in case they wanted to buy anything less flashy than she’d given them.

’No, I don’t think she thinks of everything. But far more than most might realize.’

Ready made items were altered on site, with a speed and accuracy that made both him and Nohre wonder if she was really a mortal. That seamstress was clearly undervaluing her goods and services.

She had thanked the Goltbred heiress and spoke about how she looked forward to moving her family after the Descent while they were there. When it came to recruiting talent, he was sure that their master had gained the most valuable pieces and connections during this festival.

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

The dim morning light shone on Anper as he supervised the final packing of his personal effects. His face remained impassive despite the flurry of activity from retainers around him. Outside the station, cultivators traveling to far places rushed to meet their designated transport times.

"Quite the extravagance, wouldn’t you agree?"

Another elder not of his faction approached to speak to him with barely veiled disapproval. His thoughtful gaze was directed toward the main venue staging area where workers had continued their preparations into the night. When the family sent a patrol to check, they had already started up again on a new shift.

"The Goltbred girl has always had peculiar priorities."

Anper barely spared the construction a glance since it started, despite hearing about it. He had no intention of attending or convincing the Yecine one way or another over it. His mind was on further things.

"To continue to organize entertainment while evacuation for the war is underway..."

A third man from their family joined them, shaking his head in further distaste - though this individual actually *was* part of the faction involved in their plot. Anper had always found him quick to speak out. Another younger elder like him, who was overly proud of the armguard under his blazer sleeve.

"One might question the seriousness with which she approaches the Descent."

"Or commend her understanding of the benefits to morale for those with no choice but to wait. You sound like jealous younglings, upset that you can’t take part."

The female voice from behind them made even the most stoic of their family frown visibly. The men turned to find Lirades watching them with that irritating half-smile of hers. Anper was still unsettled by their previous confrontation - enough to note that she seemed to have more attention on the two of them in the same ’group’.

"The Continental Army has officially sanctioned the delay for those with evening departures. Several Guild representatives I know have even expressed appreciation for the diversion."

"Of course they would. The Goltbreds have always known how to curry favor."

The cold reply from the older of the three men made the oldest cultivator in their family raise her brow. She knew that not everyone was happy with the marriage arrangement, but was still baffled over how some elders continued to be so *unconstructive* about it.

"If that was meant to sound level-headed, you failed, dear. You may go board the train and yell at your subordinates."

The shooing motion irritated him enough that he remembered *why* engaging with her at all was a bad idea. He turned his face and walked off. His idea, he told himself.

"And you. Sent your sons away to deprive them of what they might learn from such displays. You fooled none of us with your excuse."

The direct criticism of his parenting hung in the air between them. Anper’s hand reached back and tightened on the hilt of his heavy blade again. Using it was not in his mind, but gripping his sword was comforting. Steely gray eyes looked up to her own.

"My sons are safely situated where they can best prepare for what’s to come. Not all of us have the luxury of frivolous distractions."

Near the other end of the rail platform, the distinctive retinue of nobles from the other continent caught his attention. While they were not traveling all the way back, they were still planning to fight their part in a region closer to home. Attendants were boarding, efficiently loading ornate luggage onto the train.

"Interesting. It seems others find value in remaining behind as well."

Lirades remarked after lazily following his gaze. She had heard some of the argument among them already. The Lady Aarengraf herself was not traveling back with them. The other young elder frowned as he did a quick headcount.

"The northern contingent is departing without their main patron?"

"She apparently put in a request to depart on a later train. She and that curved blade fighter the *really* upset man over there sponsors..."

The old woman continued to gossip about the political movements. It was rare for any of the very old men to verbally spar with her more than once or twice, but the younger generation sometimes broke character. Including Anper.

"Leysah."

The name was spoken almost automatically, making a soft hum of curiosity erupt from Lirades.

’I am not being careful enough.’

The woman’s distinctive style during the early competitions before being disqualified had caught a lot of attention. Then there was the rumors of her being looked at and talked to coldly by the ’medical fairy’.

It had made the father-in-law look into her more as a potential ally... or someone to manipulate to ruin the girl’s reputation. However, after that incident it seemed like they had no further crossings.

"Yes, I do believe that was her name. Both have chosen to remain an extra day. Curious timing."

Steel gray eyes narrowed. Another piece seemed to be shifting on the board. These connections were another variable to consider in the aftermath. The Goltbred girl’s reach extended further than he’d anticipated..

Further than his faction seemed to want to believe, despite the heiress acting out lately. The old woman approached him closer while he was in thought.

"Your assignment is quite distant from the city, isn’t it? The northwestern fortifications."

"As requested. The number of Primalists there was insufficient."

His curt response betrayed nothing of his faction’s arrangements to have him positioned where a certain item of interest might be located, once delivered. Seconds later, the train whistle pierced the morning air and signaled the boarding of individuals.

Anper gave a perfunctory salute to the other elder beside him who returned the gesture with some words.

"Duty calls. Fight well."

As he walked into the car and sat, he cast one final glance out the window at the three towers now surrounding a stage for a play. A farce. His ’heir’ would no doubt be in attendance tonight. Further exposed to the Goltbred’s influence.

He was glad he sent his youngest two away first.

’Let them both have their day with those parents of hers here... with Ondua and Yatrel. No one will get any more like it soon.’