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There’s a few things Kliff has to get used to after leaving Ram. The everyday mundanity is one of them; another is the hardened routine that Lukas enforces. And of course, another being how his friends now watch him like hawks: he is the youngest of them, the weakest and by default, the most likely to die first. After all, they’d made a promise to return to Ram Village in one piece after this war was over and done with.
He can feel Lukas’s eyes on his back when he trains. He doesn’t mind an assuring glance mid-battle from Gray. He doesn’t heed Faye’s dejected muttering as they march together, away from Alm and the others. And he can barely tolerate Tobin hovering over him like an elder brother. But what he didn’t expect was the courtesy to be extended to the blue-haired healer, nor did he expect her to take it so seriously.
She doesn’t hover, nor glance, or stare like the others do. She almost studies him with those grey eyes, both stark and shocked whenever they find him, or when she’s been caught staring.
And Kliff, a natural student of the highest regard, picks up on her wandering eyes and knit brow.
“Did you mention to keep an eye on me?” Kliff asks Faye when they’re packing up camp. She glances away from the back of Alm’s head and blinks a few times.
She shakes her head, those twin braids swinging quickly. “No.” she says then half-shrugs. “Nothing serious at least. Just a whisper or a murmur.”
Kliff gives her a look. The dazed vision comes out of Faye’s eyes and she gives him a look. “What? We’re all fighting a war together. Might as well have a clue of people, right?”
Kliff frowns. “Her name is Silque, by the way.” Faye says. “She’s… nice.”
Such idle reassurance is lost on Kliff, and for the rest of the march, he sits on edge. He’s a hundred miles from home, from anything familiar, and this cleric keeps staring at him like he’s the strangest thing she’s ever seen.
Everywhere he goes—the armoury, the mess tent, the battlefield, gruelling marches along farmer’s fields—she’s a few steps behind him and watching with those eyes.
When he’s training he’s seen her slip past. When he’s reading by the fire, she’ll sit down with gauze to fold into bandages. It’s eerie, like she’s ready and waiting to kill him.
(Briefly, he wonders if Mila condones killing.)
It’s when he’s in the infirmary for a not-so bad gash, and the healer is fretting over him that he blows up. She keeps telling him to stay still, that she’ll get her staff and use white magic for it. But Kliff knows what white magic does, how it works; she must kill herself a little to help him live. And he doesn’t want to owe this strange Sister anything.
He grabs a handful of gauze and unrolls it as Silque pleas with him to stop. “It’s really no problem,” she continues to insist as he wraps his wound. “Please Kliff, let me heal you—”
He snaps. The villager spins on his heel, stopping before her. “Will you quit following me?! I can care for myself.”
Her eyes are as big as saucers and she almost drops her staff. She blinks twice before bowing her head slightly. “I apologize.”
Normally people—and by that he means the others—would brush him off and say he’s just riled up or moody. They would take their mistakes, make them his problem or issue. Snapping after being pestered for too long becomes his impatience and not their idiocy. Ignoring stupid remarks and questions become his arrogance.
But Silque has realized that she has tried his patience and asked too many questions. “I only wanted to make sure the wound did not go septic. The smallest of cuts would be deadly without proper care.” She says softly. “You have my apologies, again.”
Normally, Kliff wouldn’t buy such a fast apology. He’d think that it would be something to cover someone’s ass, not a sincere declaration.
Still, it’s not enough to make him so easily forget how she’s watched him like a hawk for the last few days.
He adjusts the bandages, making sure they’re secure. They slip from his hands and he tries again. Silque looks down at her staff, running her hands along the ivory.
“Why are you so interested in me anyways?” He asks.
Her lips part and those grey eyes turn into double moons again. She balks, and he thinks she’s going to lie to him, that she hasn’t been watching him these past few weeks.
“I just have a bit of curiosity.” She says, before taking his hand and the bloodied bandages. She pulls a clean one from her pocket and effortlessly wraps his hand. “You remind me of someone who left me.”
“Then I suggest you leave them behind too.” Kliff says, rather indignantly.
“Now that would not be fair to them.” She chastises gently. She sounds mature, like an elder sister. “I know not of their own consequences and problems.”
Kliff’s gaze narrows. “You were supposed to deliver something to Ram Village, weren’t you?” He says.
She nods. “The Turnwheel. It reached the proper hands.”
He remembers overhearing her speak of it. It was supposed to go to Sir Mycen, but instead she handed it off to Alm. She ignored her instructions; and that doesn’t bode well with Kliff.
“So why are you still here. Shouldn’t you go back to your church or monastery?”
Silque frowns a little. “That’s rather cruel. Wouldn’t you consider me an asset?” She says before setting her own hand over his. “After all, you’d all be nursing rather harsh wounds had I not been here to help you.”
Kliff rolls his eyes. There is nothing he hates more than someone giving him a lecture.
“Though, now that you mention it, I... I had hoped to talk to you about Ram Village for sometime now. You are a lifetime resident, yes?”
“Unfortunately.”
He watches as she drops his hand and nervously begins to run her hands along the staff again. . “I had... I had actually—“
She stops mid sentence as Faye pokes her head into the infirmary. “Kliff, I need help starting supper! Tobin has no idea what he’s doing with the stew!”
“Of course he doesn’t.” Kliff mutters to himself before glancing to the healer. She’s resigned herself back to that little frown and knit brow. “Another time.” He says.
“Yes, yes of course.” She agrees as Kliff pushes himself up from the cot and hurries after Faye.
Kliff watches her walk alongside Faye on their march toward the hideout. He can’t place it but there’s something—big or small, he can’t tell—that is familiar about her.
But he’s never met Silque before. She’s a stranger to him, a complete and utter one. And he’d rather keep it that way.
He keeps all the other villagers at a safe distance from him. Too loud, too annoying, too rambunctious for his calm, collected nature. And too childish, butting heads over who gets to train first, who gets the first ration, who gets the best sword.
It’s too tiring.
And he doesn’t want anything to change about that. Keep them all at arm’s length, survive this war, collect the cheque and ride off into the sunset. That’s why he agreed to join after all. He wouldn’t say it out loud but for once, Tobin was right: the money was the biggest voice. With the wages, Kliff could travel the world and see its wonders. He might even get across Zofia and into Rigel if he plays his cards right and doesn’t die too early.
But his thoughts are stolen away to the battlefield when they encounter the Zofian army. Kliff tears his thoughts from the strange healer to the sword at his hip and words on his tongue. Everything becomes a flurry; armour and weapons clashing against each other. Alm and Lukas call out orders while the rest of them obey as best as they can. It’s a mess on the battlefield. He feels his strength waning and sees the enemy upon the horizon, only getting worse as they approach the castle.
I can’t be weak. I’m not a kid. I won’t let them push me. He continues to tell himself.
But his legs feel wobbly, and his stomach is empty, and his tongue is dry from speaking so many spells.
As he’s approaching, he sees the enemy come up. He reaches for a vulnerary in his packs, only to grope at the bottom of the leather. His throat is too dry, and he can barely breathe let alone speak an incantation.
The cavalier is coming too quickly and Kliff shuts his eyes, summoning the last of his strength to choke out the beginning of the incantation. He hears the cavalier let out a war cry and then—
“ Reprehensible !”
He cracks an eye open and sees the cavalier on the ground, their horse speeding off quickly with no rider. By his side, struggling for breath and nursing her own wound is Silque.
She gives him a weak smile before choking out a few words and meeting the battlefield, face first. But the shock of her fainting is not what startles Kliff; it’s the words she lets out as she meets the ground.
“My sweet little brother.”
The curtain to the infirmary is pulled across and only the injured are allowed inside. Though, there are few, thanks to the day’s miraculous victory which sends the Deliverance to Zofia Castle. Some explore while others pop open a bottle of some booze and cheers to a miracle sent by the Earth Mother herself.
Kliff can’t celebrate. His friends aren’t surprised—he even hears Gray murmur “ do you think a sourpuss would wanna party? ” Instead, all he can think of is what Silque said. She’s his older sister, and he, her brother. Or at least that’s what she mentioned. It could be a delirium from the magic.
Still, he has to know.
But every time Kliff even gets close to the medical tent, Lukas is nearby. And the knight in red is more than happy to give out work to idle soldiers.
So he sits until he hears the party rage inside and sees Lukas eventually leave when Forsyth comes by saying that Python’s inebriated again. Then, as the knight leaves, Kliff sneaks in.
Almost all the cots of the tent are full within people. Most are asleep and treated, at least those with bad wounds are. He spies Silque, nearby a cot, holding her staff and checking a sleeping patient’s vitals presumably. At least, he hopes they’re alive.
But he doesn’t think much about that. Instead, he realizes how much Silque looks like his mother, and how he only just realized it.
The similarity isn’t in features—his mother has got the same white hair and rosy eyes as him—but in presence. His mother is a gossip but she carries herself like a noblewoman when she wants to. She says she was one, once. Or almost one. His father’s standing would have certainly made her one if he didn’t run away.
And by god does he want to be like his father and run.
But he is a curious spirit, a seeker of all the world’s truths. This one, perhaps, may be the most coveted of his now. A long lost sister, a hidden past of his mother’s, a bloodline undiscovered.
She meets his gaze and her eyes go wide. She holds onto that staff tightly before blinking the doe eyed look from her eyes and shifting on her feet.
“Can we speak?” He asks. “Alone?”
Silque glances from her patient and then to him and nods. “Yes.”
She leads the way out of the tent and outside to the battlefield. There’s still marks of blood along the ground, beaten into the marks of where hooves, boots and armour scoured the earth. The air is a little hotter, the sign that Avistym is here to stay.
Ram will be booting up for the harvest sooner than later. And his mother, the town gossip, will have more seeds of secrets to sow. He tries not to think about that. The night is dark, and only in the nearby lantern light, Kliff can see how pretty Silque is, so similar to his mother.
“I’d like to—”
“Why did you call me your little brother.”
“—explain.”
Kliff stares at her, a frown moving across his face. Who does this cleric think she is? Who? “Then start speaking. I want to know why.”
Silque wrings her hands before moving her staff into the crook of her elbow. “Simply that you might be my little brother.” She says. “I was told sometime ago that I might have family.”
“How can I be your family?”
Silque blinks a few times. “I know we do not look alike but—”
“I don’t have family. I have my Mother and that’s it.”
“Well I don’t have anyone.” She says. “And you look so much like my Mother.”
Kliff narrows his gaze on her. He doesn’t want to be his mother. He’s nothing like her. She’s the town gossip and he’s the bookworm son that could never please her.
“I had been told that my Mother had retreated to Ram Village and remarried and had a son.” She says, taking a step closer. Her hands clasp together. “I was assuming... Well, when I saw you, I had hoped you would be him.”
His hands tighten into fists. He’s not a fool but she’s awful convincing. And besides, he’s an only child, always has been. His father was never in the picture—save for the sachets of marks he sent to supply his place—and his Mother only had him.
“How old are you?” He asks cautiously.
“Nineteen.” She answers. “And you?”
“I turned fifteen in the spring.”
Her gaze saddens as she stares at him. She reaches out for a second but reproaches herself, pulling back. She gives him a gentle smile, one he can only guess is used with fussy patients.
“Four years between us.”
“You’re not my sister. My Mother never had another man in her life. She was a city girl before Ram.” He says.
“Before...” she echoes.
Kliff’s gaze widens a little bit before frowns. “Fine, so tell me your story if you’re so sure we’re siblings.”
Her eyes flutter and blink for a second before nodding. “I was born in northern Zofia. My Mother and I went on a pilgrimage for revelation. Shortly after our journey, we sailed to Novis and she left me at the priory there.” She says.
“And how did you know about me?”
“The Sage of the church told me after I begged to know.” She says. “I didn’t know your name or looks, just that you existed.”
“So is that why you’re with us now?” He asks with a growing frown.
Silque shakes her head quickly. “No no! I assure you it’s to pay forth the kindness Sir Alm showed me. And to spread Mila’s gospel.”
Kliff glances out to the night. Remarriage? Is this girl before him truly his sister, or is she a liar?
He may never know.
“But I would hope you believe me. For blood is thicker than water.” Silque says.
“Why would she—” he catches the word abandon . That’s what she is; abandoned by their selfish mother, who left her behind and chose to have another child. Who chose to have him, to raise him, over her.
No doubt she would have loved their mother more; what if it had been the opposite? He had been left behind in an island priory and she had been raised in Ram Village? Would he have not wondered about a possible sister across a sea and land? About a mother whom he had so few memories of? About everything he never knew?
He doesn’t know. He has a feeling that he wouldn’t care, but that is simply bias hanging over from his childhood where she lingered, where she owned every moment of his existence.
“Why did she leave you behind?”
“I do not know.” She says before quickly raising her hands. “And I do not want you to think that I am only approaching to get more information or a reason from her.
Kliff holds her gaze as she hesitates. “I only wanted to know if you were true. And real.”
“Do you hate me?”
Silque’s grey eyes grow wide and she shakes her head, reaching out to take his hand. He pulls it quickly from her grasp and he sees a flicker of sadness cross her face. Silque takes a heady step back and centres herself. “No. I could never hate anyone, let alone you.” She says. “You are my younger brother.”
I don’t know you though. He thinks. Can I really be your brother?
She gives a little sigh. “May I ask if my... Our mother is well?”
Kliff hesitates, looking at this sad, lonely girl. He wonders if Mother would approve of her; a cleric of Mila, a daughter of another Mother.
Knowing his mother, she’d be annoyed.
“Yes. She’s in good health and mind.”
Silque smiles softly. “That gladdens me.” She says. “Mila has seen her through her life safely, thus far.”
Kliff watches her as she stands a little taller. “Kliff, I... I would like to make something clear.”
He holds her gaze.
“I do not expect a sibling relationship from you. And I did not join the Deliverance only to get close to you.” Her voice is stern and soft. “And at your request, I would remove our kinship without hesitation.”
He watches as she wrings her hands. “But, I cannot remove that our blood connects us.” She says. “I will see you as my younger brother for the rest of my days; and I will keep it to myself.”
Kliff’s brow furrows.
“And I will pray for your safety and health to the Mother.” She says. “That is what a sister would do.”
He holds her gaze as she bows shallowly. “If you excuse me, I have patients to attend to.”
She begins to walk away, her white robes becoming a ghostly memory. In the quiet of the night, he thinks about Silque, the sister from the priory. It’s getting cold and as he looks out into the bloody fields, trampled to shit by the day’s battle and the soldier’s feet.
He tries the word out on his tongue. It makes his tongue thick and his heart pound. “Sister.” He hates the feeling it leaves.
“Do you like your siblings?”
Tobin balks a little, his brow furrowing. “What sorta question is that? I love em!”
Kliff frowns as Tobin continues to pack up the cargo. “You could always not like them.”
“Never.” Tobin says.
Figures. Kliff goes to the one person he knows couldn’t hate his siblings. The one with a dozen, the one who can never find a fault in their smiles and giggles and mischief that kept him busy.
They’re packing up cargo from the market, beginning to depart from Zofia Castle and move towards the border of Rigel.
“Why do you ask?” Tobin says as they secure trunks of goods and supplies. Mathilda and Clive’s horses will be carrying the convoy and cargo, and the others will have to lug their packs on their backs.
Kliff has noticed that Silque doesn’t have one, only a little leather satchel that sits on her hip. No need for worldly possessions, not when she is a Sister of the cloth.
He feels indulged, to have a canvas rucksack with extra clothes and a blanket and a few tomes and books.
“Do I need a reason?” He asks.
Tobin shrugs. “Just seems weird of you. Only child and all.” He says.
Kliff frowns. “I don’t need a reason to satisfy my curiosity.”
He curls his lip as the straps slip through his gloves and refuse to tighten. It doesn’t want to lock down properly. Tobin gets his strap secure, and then nudges Kliff’s hands out of the way. With a swift pull he yanks the strap down, securing the cargo to the wagon.
“Well, it just seems out of character. You hardly care about any of us most of the time, so why do you care about my siblings?”
Kliff’s frown deepens. “You’re annoying me.”
Tobin gives a sharp laugh and shakes his head. “I’m just asking a question to your question, man.” He says before resting a hand on his hip.
“Fine. I’m doing a survey of siblings’ opinions.” He lies.
Tobin’s brow furrows at the thought. “Survey?”
“I’m collecting the opinions of those with their siblings.” He says. “And the question is do you like your siblings.”
The archer squints at Kliff before shaking his head. “Gray! Come over here!”
Kliff lets out a groan. The only thing he needs is another idiot. He had hoped Tobin would have some brotherly wisdom, what with being the eldest of a seemingly dozen kids, but that’s not to be born.
Though, Gray might provide another perspective.
Sure enough, the mercenary comes over, of course with Clair on his tail. She’d been following him around only when Alm was missing in war councils and the like, under the guise that she was dearly interested in villagers and their lives.
“What’s up, Tobe?” Gray flicks his head towards Kliff in greeting and Clair offers a proper greeting which he ignores.
“Kliff’s asking if I like my siblings.”
“What manner of question is that?” Clair asks with a furrowed brow.
Kliff suddenly wants to throttle Tobin.
“He says it’s a survey.”
“And what’s the purpose?” Clair asks, turning to him.
Kliff stays silent. “Curiosity.” Tobin supplies.
“How ridiculous is that. I simply adore my brother!” Clair chimes happily.
Gray rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. “I mean, yeah, my sisters drive me crazy sometimes but of course I like ‘em.” He says.
And as he says that, the three begin to chitter amongst themselves, remarking on how strange Kliff must be. Amidst the talking and chattering, Kliff slips away and prepares for the march.
Faye is similar to him. Or at least he thinks.
She’s the only child of an elderly farming couple. It’s only ever been her, no siblings nor family. And Alm’s the same way, with only Sir Mycen as his grandfather and guardian.
He’s sitting by the fire pit after a bad battle when he sees her. She’s exhausted but they have watch together.
“How would you react if you found out you had another sibling?”
Faye’s brow furrows as she glances to him.
“Humour me.” He says.
Her brow furrows as she plays with the edge of her cloak. “I dunno. I like to think I’d be excited but... Maybe I’d be jealous?” She asks.
Kliff holds her gaze as she brings her knees to her chest. “It would definitely be something to adjust to. It’s only ever been me and Ma and Pa and Nana. Finding out I had a long lost sibling or something would be a shock.” She says.
“What would you do?”
“I guess I would be as kind as I could be. They’d probably be as scared as I am. And I don’t know what they’d been through.” She half shrugs before prodding the fire with her sword. The flames burst and cackle. “But I would be really freaked out. It’s just been me for so long.”
Kliff frowns and pulls his blanket tighter around himself. Faye nudges his shoulder. “So. What would you do if you found a long lost sibling?”
Wish I knew what I would do. He thinks.
“It’s hard to imagine you as a big brother. You’re so prickly.” She muses.
“Gee, thanks.” He says.
“You’ve never really been a people person either.”
Faye’s face brightens. In the firelight, he can see her blush a little. He already knows who's coming and grumbles to himself. “Kliff just asked what I would do if I found out I had a lost sibling.” She leans closer. “What would you do Alm?”
“Well, I guess I would ask about our parents. I never knew them—“ He stops. “No. First, I’d welcome them as my family. They’re probably as scared as I am.”
Kliff feels a pit form in his stomach.
The truth is, Kliff doesn’t know if he could tolerate a sister. He can barely stand his Mother, so could he really do with a sister? Let alone one he’s never even known to exist before a few days ago.
He’s taking a walk in the woods when he crosses paths with Silque again. She’s by the river, washing blood-stained sheets from a battle earlier in the day. He watches her for a moment or two, seeing how her brow is smooth even as she scrubs at a stain. He can hear her singing something softly, probably a hymn or scripture song.
In the last few days, he’s watched her. He’s noticed little things, like she doesn’t come to the mess tent for meals and doesn’t really leave the infirmary. And she prays a lot. Kliff’s only seen a few clerics and priests in his lifetime but he didn’t realize they prayed so much.
He steps on a twig, and it snaps, making her head rise. Silque’s song stops and she searches the woods for a sign, a person. In exchange for her song of Mila, he hears ancient incantations roll off her tongue.
Then, Kliff pokes his head from the bush. Her face falls from his severe expression and turns soft for a second before reserving once again. She offers a little smile before turning back to her bucket of laundry. “Oh, hello Kliff.”
“Hello.” He says.
“Are you coming back from a walk?”
He doesn’t realize he’s saying it until he sees her face fall.
“I don’t know if I can tolerate a sister.”
Silque looks as though she’s been slapped in the face. She blinks once, then twice and looks down. “I see.”
“I don’t have patience for people.” He says. “It’s always been this way.”
“I understand.” Silque says.
“But it’s not fair to you.”
She looks up with wide eyes, almost dropping the sheet from her hands. “It isn’t.”
“If you really did walk halfway across Zofia to find me, I could at least be civil to you.”
“Kliff, I do not want to pressure you--"
“Shut it.” He says sharply and her eyes widen. “I’m not a people person, you gotta understand that.”
She nods slowly.
“And I don’t know what stupid reasons our mother had for abandoning you and then having me, but they don’t matter.” He says thinly. “You’re my sister, and I guess... I guess blood is thicker than water.”
Silque’s eyes widen so big, into those little moons. She swallows before pulling her laundry into her basket. “Do... do you accept me as your sister?”
His stomach sours at such a sweet thought. Slowly he nods and Silque lets out a strangled noise. She drops the basket and almost throws her arms around him, but stops at the last second. Instead she holds her arms to herself, wringing her hands together. She lets out a soft little laugh, her eyes watering with tears.
“I’m sorta a tough person to get along with.”
“It is alright. It is a lot to process--” she reaches for his hand and holds it tight. “—yet, you’ve accepted me and this is the greatest gift Mila could ever bless me with.”
Kliff shifts awkwardly and Silque notices. She drops his hand. “If you have any questions about me, I will happily answer them, my brother.”
“Don’t call me brother.” He says, leaning down and picking up her laundry basket. It’s heavy and her hands are bright red from the river’s cold water. “Just Kliff.”
Silque smiles up at her little brother. “Very well Kliff. It seems we have nineteen years to catch up on.”