Bad Timing [very early 4/25, Theoren]

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

When Melanie was awoken by a knock on her cabin door, it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. She'd grown accustomed to the movement of the ship, and barely felt it now. The smell of old salt still continually surprised her, though, a reminder that the wood here was soaked in the ocean even here deep in its belly. The walls of her cabin might never have been filled with salty spray, but the smell got into everything all the same.

She was on her way to Forsilvra. She was headed north to land with even fewer people like her than Enos, but where perhaps they wouldn't have had the same opportunity to entrench wrong-headed notions about what she was worth. She was on her way to Forsilvra and someone was knocking on her door.

"Yes?" she called, reaching out to unlatch the door. "I'm decent enough."

The boatswain stumbled in, a boy whose steeply-angled jaw and dark eyes would make him truly beautiful once his adolescent blemishes left him. He pulled his hat off his head and tried to look anywhere but at the Acolyte in her shift. "Sorry to wake you. There's a man from the Fleurant ship, says that there's a woman aboard giving birth and they need someone to attend her. None of the other servants will go, so I don't know what to tell them if you don't want to go either because--"

"It's all right," Melanie said, dragging a hand down her face. "How exactly will I get over there?"

"Gangplank, my lady."

"Oh," she said, looking up at the boards in her ceiling as though they could deliver her opinion to the gods for her. "Wonderful. All right, well. Tell them I'll be up as soon as I can."

"Thank you," he said, bobbing his head down once before cramming his hat back on his head and hurrying back out into the hall.

She repeated to the tiny empty room, "Wonderful."

*****

Assuming that she was about to get herself absolutely filthy with blood and various watery discharges, Melanie went ahead and put on plain woolen trousers and leather boots with a tunic of undyed linen. Carefully she reached back and tied her braids behind her head. It took long enough to dry them after they'd gotten soaked with water; she didn't want to deal with the thrilling experience of cleaning placenta out of them.

She shrugged her bag of supplies over her shoulder, though she suspected that the most important things would have to be commandeered from elsewhere aboard the Fleurant ship.

When she arrived on deck with only the sails and overcast sky above her, she looked around for a face that didn't belong and hoped he'd have enough clout to scavenge up some wine or vinegar without making a lot of fuss about it. If not this was going to be an even more exhausting night than it needed to be, and nobody wanted that.

[Theoren Fleurant]

Theoren was standing on the deck of the boat, trying his best not to stand out too much, or get in the way of anyone. Although not standing out would be hard, given that the ship he was standing on was one the SanJar family was using to travel to the capital, and they were not too far from it either, perhaps a few days away at most.

He looked around at the sailors after giving his message that he was to bring the priestess onto his ship in order to aid in the birthing of one of the Fleurant family servants. Apart from their appearance, he noted that they were not significantly different than the Fleurant sailors, and the ship itself was not radically different as well. Certain cosmetic choices of course, but the function of the ship was rather similar.

He leaned against the mast as he was awaiting the priestess, looking towards the hold for any sign that she might be coming up. He really didn't know what to think all that much, given that he had never helped with a birth before, even as little as what he was doing now. He had no expectations other than to give the ladies a wide berth, since he knew some serious stuff was going down, and being in the presence of a woman while she was delivering a baby was not exactly what he would describe a pleasant occurrence, for how much he had experienced them at least.

Soon however he noted the hold had opened, and the boatswain who he had spoken to earlier had come up. The lad seemed to give Theoren a disdainful look, but said that the priestess would be up on deck shortly. Theoren simply indicated with a nod that it was fine, and he let him go about his business as usual.

After a fairly short while, he noted someone come up from the hold and so he approached her and said, "I presume you are the one who will help in delivering the baby? If so, I am Theoren Fleurant. If you need help bringing over any materials required, I'll help you carry them across. Though do be careful crossing the gangplank, it is fairly slippery from the spray."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Theoren Fleurant. They sent a knight to get a stand-in midwife? Seriously?

Did he have instructions to carry one off or something? Or was somebody higher up annoyed with him and giving him trivial menial tasks to punish him? Well, whatever. Melanie wasn't here for him, and all he could do was carry things for her. Maybe it'd make him feel useful. Men liked that, right? Sure they did.

"In that case, if you wouldn't mind." Melanie lifted her bag off her shoulder and held it out to him. It wasn't actually all that heavy and she refused to pretend it was. "You're all business. That mean she's screaming already? Or have we not gotten there?"

[Theoren Fleurant]

Theoren noted her semi-cold reply. He wasn't sure why that was, as he had no reason to offend her he thought, but he figured he was troubling her from some other important business she was doing, and attending to a servant was not something that she wished to be doing. He took hold of her bag easily enough, and he sort of cocked his head to the side, not sure what to make of this priestess and makeshift mid-wife. He shrugged his shoulders to his question and said,

"Honestly, I don't really know what's going on. The ladies have her down in the hold, and they said to bring a mid-wife from one of the other ships. Despite watching the waves, I had nothing better to do so I decided to find out what ship you were on, and from there we made our way close to you, and I came over here. Maybe she's screaming, maybe she's not. Maybe the baby is already poking its head out of her, and you're presence is just a formality. Still, you're interesting enough. I'm not all business, but I'd rather not have a woman go through a hard pregnancy because I dawdled around making small talk. If you'd like, once you're all finished, we can talk. But right now we really need to get over there."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Men and birthings. Seemed like there was nothing that threw them into a panic more quickly. This Fleurant went immediately into solutions; he stayed on task. He was curious but he didn't diverge.

Good.

A man like that she could stand to have within a league of a birth, which was fortunate for him considering there was nowhere else for him to go but into the sea.

Melanie eyed the gangplank and took a deep breath. "Yes." She let the breath out. "So you know, if she screams, the men are going to have fits. Tell them that her screaming is how they can tell she's strong. If I fall off that thing and die, someone will have to tell them that, and her too, if it's her first. All right?"

[Theoren Fleurant]

"The men have heard screams before... Men and boys with pikes gored into their bellies, horses with broken legs. Most of the lads know what a birthing is like for horses, they're not going to be troubled by her screams. More by her raging. And I doubt you'll fall off and die. The human body quite naturally floats, even if you don't know how to swim. They'll toss you a line and pull you in easily enough, as long as you don't panic when you hit the water. Anyways."

With that, he took a firm hold of her hand, and lead her across the gangplank towards the other boat. It wasn't very far, and they made it across easily enough, despite the spray. Once they were on the Fleurant boat, the gangplank was pulled back in so that both ships could move independently of one another.

He looked down at the bag he was holding for Melanie, and handing it back to her, he pointed to the hatch where the ladies were and said, "She's in the hold over there. Best you do your thing. Don't worry, the people who don't know what to do will stay out of your way. And if not, just give them hell for being in your way and they'll move."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Men hearing screams before was not the same as men being around for a woman giving birth. Warriors often had wives or lovers and they still turned pale watching a woman pass another human being through her nethers. Victims of war stopped screaming eventually. A birthing woman could go for hours.

Theoren would see. Some sailor would be nervous and Theoren would be glad he had something to tell them that helped them get on with their work.

She didn't give him her full attention, though, until he assured her that the sailors on one ship or another would make a point to rescue her if she fell. Melanie didn't doubt that someone would care about a priestess dying while they were at sea; sailors were superstitious enough to be relied upon there. It was Theoren she doubted, and the skeptical glance she raked across him from his head to toes and back again was as clear as she felt like making her suspicions.

He was a Fleurant. People who fell short of their exacting standards of beauty and purity weren't really real to them. If someone came for her, the odds that it'd be someone from his ship didn't exactly warm her heart.

Didn't matter. Once she was across, it didn't matter.

Melanie let his hand go and took her bag back. "Believe me, I will. I'll need plenty of clean water and either vinegar or wine. Doesn't matter which. Send it down, will you?"

[Theoren Fleurant]

Theoren pointed down at the hold once more "It's all down there priestess... I never did get your name. Anyways, we don't keep supplies like that on deck. Much too easy for them to break or get sea-water inside. If you need rope, sailcloth, or timber though, we can get that easily enough for you up here. But the ladies should have everything you'll need down there. Though honestly... I don't think a hold is a good place for doing a birthing. On sea, wounded men are treated on an airy part of the ship. It's pretty dank down there. But I suppose in this case it's for the best, since everyone would be in the way from the sailors."

He paused for a moment, thinking the ramifications of what he was about to say next. If he went through with it, he would likely not be sleeping in his cabin for some time, though given that they were not too far from the capital and he had not slept much in his room to begin with, he said, "If you wish, and if she's able to, you can move her into my cabin which is on the upper portion of the deck. It's bright and airy there, and while I've no taste to smell the blood that occurs during a birthing that will no doubt stain the bed there, I haven't really slept in it to begin with, and I don't plan on doing so any time soon."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Melanie saw no reason to tell him what she thought of his casual mention that he hadn't been sleeping in his own bed on this journey and didn't expect to. Why would he? Hadn't the Fleurants brought their servants? Didn't the servant girls have beds? Why should they get to have their beds to themselves when somebody born with the right name wanted the space?

They weren't any different from other nobles in that respect, she suspected, but with Fleurants it was hard not to take it just a little personally.

She had half a mind to make a hideous birthing mess in his room, just to claim it for something and someone worthwhile.

"We'll see. If I decide to take her in there, you'll know."

The priestess turned to hurry downstairs, deliberately overlooking his request for her name. He couldn't have everything he liked just because he wanted it, and if he needed her it's not like there were many on this ship as dark as she was. He could just ask for the black one and someone would point him in the right direction. More important people needed more important things from her than this.

*****

It was hours before Melanie stumbled out of Theoren Fleurant's cabin. Enide had given birth to a boy, and contrary to the fears of the servant girl assisting Melanie--Riva was her name, not that Melanie had any intention of speaking with her again--the priestess had not in fact left dark stains from touching the newborn. Enide hadn't cared. In honor of her extensive cursing of the names of every man she'd lain with for the last ten years of her life, Melanie had left her with some preventative measures that should help ensure that little Cosme remained an only child for a good long while.

Riva had taken some, too. Ungrateful little bit.

Melanie hadn't had any idea how long she'd been in Theoren Fleurant's room except that the sun was shining and the gulls were complaining and the sailors were thudding and thumping about on their business and as exhausted as she was after hours and hours of cajoling a screaming woman through her agonized delirium... Melanie didn't think she could have slept right now for anything. The rush of victory was too much.

She'd told Enide before she left that she was a warrior now, and to never let any man tell her differently. Enide had pressed her hand before Riva descended in a relieved smothering mother hen frenzy, and Melanie had taken it as her cue to leave. She didn't need to be here for this part. She'd done her job and now she would either dive into the ocean and wrestle a shark to death with her bare hands or she would sit down on the floor and sleep for a thousand years.

Either seemed like a reasonable option, because seriously fuck those sharks. Melanie had just pulled a human out of another human and watched a boy receive the name his whole future would be piled upon, and he'd taken his very first breath resting in the palms of her hands. She could handle a shark.

Or she would curl up on the floor and sleep.

It was a really tough call. Sharks were impressive and allegedly terrifying, so that was a point in their favor but then again... the floor was right here. Choices, choices.

Hoping the sunlight would return her to the world a little, Melanie wandered up on deck dragging her bag behind her. People. Mostly male people. Men didn't know shit about shit. Melanie knew this because she had just knelt between a woman's legs while she made a man and that was something these boys would not understand.

Melanie was a priestess and therefore not destined for years of childbearing herself, but at least she could be there.

She heaved her bag against the short wall around the deck; she didn't know what it was called. It was a wall. Good enough for her. Sharks weren't the boss of her and neither were walls. She'd just delivered a baby. By the looks of the sun it was nearly noon, too. Cosme had certainly taken his damn time, but it could have been worse. Could have been a lot worse.

They'd done it. Enide had done it, but Melanie and that stupid bit Riva had helped, and that counted for something.

Sagging against the wall, Melanie folded her arms and stared down at the water where it broke against the hull below. Was she hungry? She was hungry. She was going to wrestle that shark and then she was going to eat it. All of it. Because she was Melanie al-Haadiyah and she had helped Enide and the gods make a little boy and the food chain had just better recognize who it was dealing with here.

She sighed. Good start. Good omen for the voyage. This ship would always be a ship that had welcomed a brand new healthy little life. Sounded like good luck to Melanie.

[Theoren Fleurant]

Theoren knew everything was finished once he heard the commotion stop, as well as seeing the priestess leave his cabin and saw her go towards the gunwale of the ship. Walking over to her casually, Theoren smiled and said, "Well, on the basis that you're not upset, there's nobody chasing and blaming you, I'd assume everything went without too much trouble?"

He then took the flask hanging at his side from a baldric, and pulling the stopper out took a swig and handed it to the priestess, "Don't worry, it's only tea... Cold tea and it tastes horrible, but you look like you could use a drink and maybe something to eat too. But the ship's cook won't be serving anything for some time, and waiting around while your stomach is grumbling is a pain in the ass. I think I might have some rations in my travel chest. Like the tea, they taste horrible, and they're hard as hell, but it'll tide you over until the cook decides its time for everyone to eat."

After going to the hold where he was staying; as he wasn't sleeping in his room like some would expect him to, but rather he was staying with the sailors instead, or as he usually did, he slept up on the deck listening to the sloshing of the water on the hull and smelling the salt air. After a short time, he came up with a bowl some dried meat, and a bit of stale bread. He made his way back to where she was, and sitting down beside her handed both of them to her and said, "Pour the tea in the bowl and soak the meat first, it'll make it easier to chew."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Horrible tasting cold tea was still better than seawater. Melanie was beginning to think that people did not belong at sea, and no number of happy or healthy sailors were going to sway her. At his offer of tea Melanie had nothing to say but, "Ooh, fluid. Thank you; that sounds delicious."

It was not anywhere in the vicinity of delicious, but it was wet and not salty, which got it close enough for Melanie.

This Theoren fellow was either buttering her up hard because he wanted something, or he was actually an individual who genuinely liked being useful to people. Admitting the possibility of the latter was as far as she was willing to suspend judgement just yet, but she might be willing to give him some benefit of the doubt.

When he reappeared with more provisions, Melanie had to stop herself from just cramming te meat in her mouth and tearing pieces off as best she could. He'd made a sensible suggestion and she should probably take him up on it. The bread, though, the bread was ready. She shoved the hunk of it in her mouth and set about mixing meat and tea in a bowl. The bread was stale, but it was still bread and bread was good.

She'd certainly had worse.

Not often she had it from a more surprising source, though.

While the meat was soaking, she swallowed a bite of the bread. "Had no idea how hungry I was until I started coming back down from all that." She waved the bread. "Thanks for this. Charitable of you. The meat may be sort of an adventure," she added with a grin, "but there's no way it'll be the worst I've had. That honor goes to a crow that the maggots had gotten to first, but you know what? That's what pepper is for. Am I rambling? I'm rambling; I'm sorry. Also that was a really disgusting thing to say. Sorry. Still kind of in crazed adventure mode, which is definitely not your fault but I should probably not reward you for sharing your food with me by talking about maggots which now that I think about it I just mentioned again."

She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Sorry. Ignore me."

[Theoren Fleurant]

He began to chuckle to himself as soon as she mentioned the maggots and rambling and incessant apologizing. For all her coldness from before, Theoren began to realize that she was somewhat of a likable person, not just all business. He slapped his hand against his thigh and said, "Don't worry about being sorry for all that. You're the one that's eating remember..." As he pointed at the food. "But regardless, you're ravenous and you're dealing with a soldier here. I've seen my fair share of maggots and other disgusting things. The smell of it would be off putting, but not the thought... At least not to me."

He stood up then, and turned to look at the water, placing his hands on the top of the gunwale. "Though... Maggots aren't so bad. At least they'll clean away any dead flesh, and tenderize it too." He looked down at her and winked "Now that was a disgusting thing to say." He continued on, "Anyways, you eat. You've just finished bringing a baby out of a womb and into the world. That's not something most people can say they've done before. It's going to be a long boat ride ahead though... Especially seeing as how the one that you were on before decided to dally behind. "

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

It was true enough! Melanie was the one who was eating and if she could handle talk of maggots then damn it all there would be talk of maggots! Those were the rules. Evidently. For the moment.

Briefly she considered whether His Fleurant Lordship were flirting with her, on a boat in the middle of the sea, over maggot jokes. Being winked at by men was pretty mundane, but being winked at by one under these circumstances... well, at least it was novel.

"Did they?" she asked, twisting in place to glance toward the stern as though she could acquire any useful information at all just by looking, which of course she could not. Melanie blew air through her lips and shook her head. "But yes! The boy's doing well enough. They're always a little squished at this stage, but it's totally normal and Enide's absolutely in love with him anyway, which is nice to see. After watching a woman work that hard, it's good to know that she feels like it was all worth it."

Not that Enide was in any hurry to do it again, as far as Melanie could tell, but that was Enide's business.

[Theoren Fleurant]

"That's good to hear" exclaimed Theoren. To be honest to himself, he felt like he really shouldn't care about knowing that the baby born to a servant was healthy, and the mother was happy. Yet lately he was beginning to question why he should feel that way. For someone who was as analytical as Theoren, he realized that he wasn't being very analytical all those years of his life up to this point. He was being emotional and acting on a supposed tradition, that he had to be better than these sorts of people. But then, spending time with the soldiers, hearing their stories, sharing a common sleeping area with the sailors, hearing servants and smallfolk talk. They were very much like him and his siblings and all other nobles. The only difference is they did not have the wealth to draw upon, and that was not a huge issue in and of itself.

It was then that Theoren realized that he was conversing with this priestess who was initially cold, and somewhat hostile to him previously, but now she had taken food from him, and was proud about what she had done. He didn't really understand all that, and so being inquisitive and somewhat blunt in this case he said, "I'm curious about you priestess. You still haven't told me your name, you accept food that I've given you, you talk proudly about the thing you've just done; rightfully so I might add, but it all doesn't make sense. It all --" He paused, thinking of the right words to say so as not to cause offense. Continuing, he said, "It seems to me that when we had initially met, you were cold, distant, and in a way speaking to me in a kind of hostile tone. We've never met since before then, to the best of my knowledge at least, and I cannot understand why you acted that way. If we have met before and I do not realize it, and I wronged you in some way, I apologize for it. I hope you will at least enlighten a confused person."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Curious about her?

Melanie looked up at Sir Theoren, willing to hear him out but still a little wary. Was it her manners he didn't like? Was it...

Well, she thought. Isn't that interesting.

She looked down at the bowl cradled between her knees. She had taken food from him, and he was being polite enough. Maybe it was because he assumed that she was a Linnet or SanJar or some other sort who deserved civility from Fleurants even if they were not truly friends. She hadn't given him her name and if nobody else had, then he had no real way to know that she'd been chosen for her position by the gods rather than by noble parents. That might have made a difference to him.

What would he do if he learned it now?

But then he apologized, pre-emptively, without even being able to name something he might have done wrong. He was just... perfectly ready to be in the wrong even though he hadn't spotted any reason beyond cool treatment from a stranger.

Isn't that something...

The priestess looked back up again, regarding him with keen interest. Whatever he was up to, Melanie did rather like the surprising manner he had about him and hoped it meant that he wasn't up to anything.

What did you bring me, Enkil? Out here on the water?

"No, we haven't met," she answered. "My name is Melanie al-Haadiyah," she said, giving him the title she had instead of a surname. "and..." She pressed her lips together and they thinned briefly before she spoke again. "I hope you won't mind my honesty since you've been good enough to give me yours. But I'm from your city, and knights aren't the only ones who pull on armor when they think they're riding out to be attacked." Melanie took a deep breath and conceded, "But armor's heavy. Even just the kind in here." She tapped on her chest. "And you've been nice."

[Theoren Fleurant]

Attacked? That was all this was about? Just being wary of someone. Theoren was relieved to find out that it was only that. He was not the kind of person who would want to willingly wrong someone in any way. So hearing that, he sort of let the tension he was holding go down. He was willing to hear a tirade against him, of any sort of evil thing he did, he was ready to take railing and abuse and even curses. He was not ready for this.

But yet, when he thought about it, he realized that it made sense. He too was not always warm with people, especially strangers, specifically for the reason being that sometimes someone would always want to take advantage of your openness. So answering her, he said, "Well met, Sister Melanie al-Haadiyah. As a formal introduction then, it is good to meet you." He said, nodding and making a salute by placing his right fist into his left palm."And your reasoning is most certainly sound. I forget that I too can sometimes be the same way, although it is much easier to stop people from bothering you, if you're carrying a sword and dagger on your belt. I also try to be nice to everyone I meet, at least to those who have not given me reason not to be." He leaned back against the railing and continued, "But you say you are from Enos? I have been to the temple there many times, and I cannot say I've ever seen you there. Although to be fair, I do not normally pay attention to people in the temple. I am there to speak with the five, not to men and women."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Sir Theoren didn't seem upset that she didn't like Fleurants and expected bad behavior from them, which probably meant that she'd done a good job of explaining her wariness without telling him that she didn't think much of his kin. Good. It was a fine line to walk without knowing him better: giving him the honesty she'd offered without giving him pieces of the picture he might not have received well.

Melanie tilted the bowl in her lap back and forth, curious how much tea was still left around the dried meat. There was still some, so she figured that the meat could stand to sit a little longer. She tore off another little piece of bread and chewed it while she listened to him. He understood wariness and that it was easier for him to keep people at arm's reach if he wanted, which was... well, it was close enough. Sir Theoren didn't need to understand the specifics when generalizing would serve.

She chuckled approvingly at his habits of temple attendance. There for faith, not politics. Good man.

"I'm not always at the temple. It's a good place to make powerful friends, but I'd see the same people every day and I doubt any of them would need me too badly. So I let the others make the house of the gods open to people and I'm happy to help people be open to the gods."

With an attitude like that, Melanie didn't predict she'd get far up the ranks, but that was all right. If the choice was between being respected and envied by royalty or loved and thought wise by commoners and lesser nobility, it was not a decision Melanie had much trouble with. Highborn humans hadn't handed Melanie her position--the gods had. They were the ones she cared to please. She couldn't imagine that working out too badly.

[Theoren Fleurant]

If she was not always at the temple, it certainly made sense that he had not seen her before. But he thought that there could have at least been one time, but not that it mattered anyways. They had met, here and now, and that really was all that mattered, to him, and likely to anyone else as well.

He answered her regarding the temple, "I care not for powerful friends. I care for people of ability. Power means nothing, if you cannot do anything yourself. I am a soldier, a fighter, if I cannot stand alone, then it will be time to die. The people who have power, the ones who lord it over all the others... They are weak. Their muscles are like rotten string, and their brains can be as mush, because they don't have to think, others will think for them. They don't have to do anything, because others will do it for them. Such people are useless I find."

He kept his hands moving as he said this. It was clear that Theoren did not like people with so called 'power'. But he continued on, "But you say you help people be open to the gods. And I am intrigued... How do you do such a thing? I would think most people are fairly receptive to the gods. It's the religion and the power that they are not fond of."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

No care for powerful friends. At all? Was he really that naïve--a hypocritical assessment from Melanie if she were honest with herself--or was he just used to being the powerful friend others sought?

It was true, though, that in a fight parentage didn't guarantee survival for oneself or one's allies. Sure, it determined who had access to good weapons and armor and the opportunity to hone combat skills and probably access to real doctors to help recover from injuries, but those were pretty much just things that money could buy. Birth could guarantee wealth, but it certainly wasn't the only way. There were wealthy commoners.

Melanie couldn't help wondering what he really thought of his family specifically, and what he would have thought of hers. She didn't want the answer to that second question badly enough to introduce the subject just now, but it was a question in want of answering.

"Some people think religion is for priests, that the gods are primarily concerned with bigger people, important people. If you've been told your whole life that you're nothing and your fate is irrelevant, it's hard to imagine something as large as a god taking an interest." She tore the last of the piece of bread into two and rolled one in her fingers, feeling the stiffness of the stale inner white bit that had almost certainly been soft and warm a couple of days ago.

"And of course, suffering changes things, too. Some people turn to the gods when they're in pain, and some people turn away. And why shouldn't they? How are they supposed to believe that they can reach out to the gods if they can't reach out to us?" She looked up from the bread in her fingers, back at the knight. "A lot of people who have lost their faith can at least have it restored in other people." Melanie shrugged, giving Theoren a helpless little smile. "It's a start."

[Theoren Fleurant]

"Ah, but you see, religion is for the priests. Most men and women care only for the naked fundamentals in life. These warm intricacies and trivialities of religion and philosophy. Questions of reality and illusion. That matters not to the individual people, and in my case it matters not to me either. The gods are there, I know that much. Those who deny them are as blind as those who trust them too deeply."

He lowered himself down, sitting against the edge beside her. He didn't exactly want to have a religious debate, here and now of all places. Theoren knew the gods, he trusted them, but not blindly, and not too much. He preferred to live life to its fullest, and give the five their just do. Anything more, and he felt like you were bothering them. And why even try that? Why bother the gods and get their attention and chastisement upon you? They were more likely dooms rather than fortune. They gave you strength at your birth, and breathed life into you. There was not much more to ask of them, but only give what they ask in return. But he figured it was best to change the subject. Not a good thing to get overly emotional with religion and gods, with a priestess of all people. If they truly spoke for the gods like they claimed to do... It would not be wise to anger such people. So he waved it away and said,

"Anyways, enough of all that. I'm a soldier, I live, burn with life, I love, and I am content. I give the gods their do, and I don't bother them. Most of the people I've encountered in my walk through life feel the same way."

Would she believe him? He wasn't too sure, but he went on. "The gods gave us strength, breathed life into us, and set us upon our path. Why ask for anything more from them? Honour them, give them respect, but if you want something from life, work for it and earn it as your just reward for the fruit of your labour." He was perhaps being a bit bull headed in this regards, but still he continued, "That," he stressed, "is true religion. Not chanting, and idols and smoke and incense. All of that stuff is a vanity unto ourselves. You must know, you are a priestess and must have spoken with the gods. Do they care for the abusive people who claim to represent them? Do they care for our wailings and repetitions? I genuinely want to know. If they do, then... perhaps my respect for them is higher than it ought to be. But if they do not, why don't they stop the madness?"

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Finally Sir Theoren came down where Melanie was. He, like many people in Melanie's experience, had a great deal to say about his gods and his churches and his fellow people and their needs. Everybody had some kind of opinion on the matter, at least when pressed. Some took more persuading than others to voice it, but if Sir Theoren were comfortable enough to be frank about something so important, Melanie was content to listen.

Sometimes people who asked for guidance didn't so much want to hear something worthwhile as to feel like they were speaking it.

That was all right.

So she listened mildly, finishing her bread as the knight went on. Melanie watched him thoughtfully, trying to see him clearly, to see what he had seen to bring him to these conclusions. Whom had he known? How had they behaved? What had he thought of those people then, and what did that mean he thought of people now?

Eventually he ran himself to a pausing point, and she considered her answer. Melanie would figure out something to say eventually; she knew that. She was clergy! Figuring out some way to ramble aimlessly toward a useful conclusion was prominent in the job description.

"The gods don't always comply with our wishes. Sometimes that is very frustrating, because we feel we want something very reasonable, like the continued wellbeing of a loved one or our family or our country. Sometimes what we want is not reasonable, like harm to someone innocent but who is in the way or is... I don't know, maybe just extremely annoying. And the gods get all of those requests. It just is not possible to please us all the time, and I think that I would be more worried if I thought they were trying to."

She looked down at her borrowed bowl, tilting it to see how the tea was doing. "But we can still have a relationship with them." Satisfied with the dried meat's progress, she regarded the knight again. "I don't think most people need priests or priestesses too terribly badly for that. One of the best things I think that we can do for laity is teach them how to do that without us so that we don't have to be everywhere at once to know that people are doing all right."

Melanie lowered her voice and leaned forward a bit, conspiratorily. "Not all priests agree, but I think that's because they won't feel special if they aren't hoarding something. The ones from important families get like that, but we can slip too if we get too used to enjoying suddenly feeling special. But it's not real generosity if you're only handing out scraps to..." She made a face. "to put people in their place by reminding them how much you're keeping for yourself. It's important not to trust priests very much who try to hoard the gods and only hand out scraps to remind everybody of their own importance."

She pulled back and waved her hand in front of her face as though dispelling a bad smell. "Lot of politics in the church because of those people."

[Theoren Fleurant]

He really opened his big mouth now. He didn't exactly want to get into a whole philosophical and religious debate. Not here, not out on the water where everything was perfect. He listened to her, but didn't pay too much attention. He had his own thoughts, which he had formulated over his years in life, and he was not want to change them any time soon.

So he just listened to her talk, about the gods, and requests and other things that he didn't care to take note of. He simply nodded and feigned interest. This was not his thing, and he knew he would have no chance at all in attempting to persuade her of his thoughts.

For all of that though, all he could say was, "Yes, I understand."

That was it? She was making an effort to explain things and be polite to him, and all he could come up with as an appropriate response was a short three word answer... He was laughing at himself on the inside, and instead he shook his head and said, "Actually... I'll be honest with you. While I do understand what you are saying in this regards, I can't say I care all too much about politics. My brother, and my cousins, and my entire family... All they do is politics. Apart from my uncle Ludovic; who is a pariah to the family all on his own, for his own reasons, I'm the only one who has ever really taken an interest in the military. I --" He stopped, not sure of what to say. Or rather, he was sure of what to say, but he was uncertain if she would like his words. She; someone who brought life into the world, and healed people, and he; someone who brought death. But he decided to go on with it, "I appreciate the purity of it. Nobody in the military tries to sugar coat anything. We have eyes, we can see when someone is telling a lie about something that is clearly visible. So we know that we have to kill people, that we'll be killed ourselves, usually by something as simple as taking a shit, or plague. Not the plague mind you, but rats and mites and fleas all bring some kind of disease. A stripling lad, the son of a lord might have his own ideas, but once he gets there on the first day, those ideas are ripped out of his skull and he's faced with reality."

He looked down at his feet, and then back at her, staring at her eyes, emotion clearly visible in his own, and he said, "Nobody cares about soldiers. We have our job to do, and we do it. We might get a parade or two, but nobody cares really. I've seen grown men break down and vomit their guts out, while they're crying, after having to kill someone. Boys who can't sleep soundly because they were tormented by the sounds of fighting and dying, men who can't be touched or be in public because they'll react violently after what they went through. But all that is chocked up to cowardice, or some other stupid designation. We fight in the field, we die in the field, but mostly we die sitting on the latrine, or infected with diseases and bleeding from every orifice... Or body parts turn black and fall off because they got bitten by a rat in our sleep. Rats as big as cats..."

He looked out at the seas again as he sat down, its serene beauty was purifying to him, and he spoke as he stared at the water, "Nobody cares about all that..."

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Melanie was finding more and more reason to support her guess that Sir Theoren wanted to talk more than listen. Was he that starved for connection that he didn't have anybody around him he could speak to? Was he so isolated from the other members of his family that he believed they really couldn't care about those who fought? Had they demonstrated that, or did he just assume?

Did it matter which?

Like a lot of people, it didn't seem like what he needed right now was a connection to the gods. What he needed right now was other people. Thankfully, the gods had sent him Melanie instead of showing up personally--at least, any more than they showed up everywhere else.

A smaller and darker corner of her mind noted the name Ludovic. A pariah, he said? That sounded like someone Melanie could have a thing or two in common with, provided he didn't still agree with his family about her.

"Do you have anyone in your family you can talk to? You mentioned someone named Ludovic."

[Theoren Fleurant]

He shook his head. He probably could talk to Renate or Pepin, or even his father about it. But not one of them had really gone through the sort of campaigning that he had been through. All there was, was uncle Ludovic, and he was not exactly the most personable person to be talking to. It wasn't that Theoren was hurting by all this though, it was more the fact that nobody really cared. All the nobles really did, was play at war. They liked to hide away in their tents, protected from the noise and the smells, and all manner of unpleasant things.

But for the most part, Theoren was just looking for a worthy cause. The fighting and the dying, all of that he was used to. It didn't bother him too much. But guarding caravans and fighting bandits, while important was all still part of 'war games'. Nobles trying to protect their interests, but not even giving any sort of recognition to the people who did it. What Theoren wanted, and was looking for was to protect someone, or some thing. He wasn't sure which, but he figured he knew what it would be when he found it. He answered her question about his uncle however, "My uncle... Ludovic. He's family, and I love him as family. But he is not the kind of person that I could talk to about this. And it's not even really the talking about it. Most people simply don't understand, or want to understand. We'll go through with the fighting, it's our job. But the problem is when these men -- Tough men, break down. They're forgotten and left by the wayside. Some are placed in asylums, but that is no help to them. Some are left to the general populace, and everyone reacts in horror when a broken man reacts like an animal. Even when all of the warning signs are there, and other soldiers are warning the higher ups to not just leave him, but get him proper help."

He stood up once more. He found that his legs were starting to cramp up, and once he had, he continued, "I care for all of those men who were under my command. But I get some high strung noble politcker who tells me that they're just cowards, after all they've been through, and I want string him up by his testicles; if he has any, and thrash him." He spat into the water, as if the disgust of such a person was evident even just by speaking of them, and he continued. "That is why I say that nobody cares. Because they don't. I pray to the gods that my men will be comforted, and instead I get idiots who don't know anything, calling them cowards and refusing to lend even a little bit of aid." He looked down at her, "Do you care Sister Melanie?"

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Melanie thought sometimes that nobody could really understand anybody else. She couldn't understand how Sir Theoren felt when he watched men he'd fought with thrown aside when they weren't any use anymore, just as he couldn't really understand how Melanie felt when poor women were used by people of his rank until they weren't pretty enough anymore. Maybe the feelings had similar roots, but they weren't the same.

Sir Theoren's family didn't understand him or want to understand him. Melanie tried to feel for him as one human being to another without comparing the Fleurants lack of interest in him to their lack of interest in her, or distant relations just like her. After all, they could have embraced her and loved her and looked after Melanie her whole life and it wouldn't change things for Theoren. Their situations were not connected. Neither of them could help the other by suffering more or by suffering less.

Slowly and carefully she said, "I care about Ahestere's warriors and I care about the people you kill. I lose family no matter who wins. So I don't get to throw anybody away."

It wasn't something that she expected him to comprehend, since Fleurants only ever married people they considered their own kind. Sir Theoren's heritage was probably a good deal less complicated than her own.

[Theoren Fleurant]

"Lose family..." He pondered for a moment. If she mentioned she lost family on either side, then that meant, if she was talking to him in this way, she considered herself to be of a relation to him. Of course Theoren couldn't see it, but he realized that stranger things have happened before.

He looked back towards her, unsure if he should reveal his musings on the matter. But he had to know for sure. It wouldn't have mattered much, as she was a member of the church, but if she was family, then she was family, and that's all that really mattered to him.

He was about to say something, but decided to cut himself off, trying to think more about what to say. It was clearly visible that he was pondering all of the implications to himself, and was trying to tread lightly over unknown territory. But finally he figured, he was open enough with her to begin with, what would it hurt if he was open in his questions as well. So after looking around and making all kinds of motions with his face, he looked back at her and said, calmly and in a manner that indicated something of a bit of joy at meeting an unknown family member, "When you say that... Do you mean to say we are related?"

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Melanie's chief concern was that Sir Theoren would take offense at her willingness to value the lives of the people he killed on a level with his own. After all, those people were the enemy. Their ways were foreign. Their gods were foreign. Their lands were foreign. They didn't even look similar. They visibly did not belong and were not like anyone else... not like the people who mattered, anyway.

That was the sort of thinking she had to prepare for, even though being a priestess gave her some protection from the possibility of anybody doing anything about it. She wasn't her mother. She wasn't her mother's family. Melanie was important. Well, she was important enough. Probably.

What would Sir Theoren do, throw her overboard?

His actual decision might have been worse in the long run.

He was curious.

It spoke better of him as a human being, at least in Melanie's opinion, but it wasn't much safer a turn for the conversation to take.

"Cities are smaller places than they seem," she answered vaguely. "If you look carefully, everybody who has been there for a couple of generations is related to everybody else." Melanie pulled the dried meat out of her bowl with the fingers of her right hand and bit off a piece, which obviously meant that she could not elaborate because she was chewing now and of course it would be rude to answer his question in greater detail while she had food in her mouth.

[Theoren Fleurant]

It was a reasonable answer, but not one Theoren was willing to accept. He had been around people enough who were avoiding to speak about something, or to not tell the full truth. And so, he instantly said with a sort of wary tone, "I am not so sure I believe that. It is easy to answer in that way, but not as a response to you initially saying that you lose family no matter who wins. We might all be related to one another throughout the city, in some way or another. But not all of those people are family members."

He tried to think of any of his ancestors or cousins or uncles who might have done something like this. The only one that had ever came to light was his uncle Ludovic, and he was forced to marry the woman he had shamed. But clearly he could not tell what had happened. Or even if he really believed he was correct in his assumptions. But still he had to try. She was being cryptic for a reason, what better reason than to make him think. However, he interjected his own thinking with speech, politely saying, "Regardless, I think you are trying to avoid my question." He smiled, "And you stuffing your mouth with food right after is somewhat incriminating." He tried to be jovial about this. If she wasn't related to him, he thought she might take offense at his trying to pry for information. But likewise if she was related to him through some not so distant means, he felt she might also be upset with him for uncovering it.

But Theoren was legitimately curious. Though one might say he had no love for the Hazir, that was true in itself. But he did not exactly hate them either. Rather he simply did not agree with their ways, and he certainly felt that their invasions of the past were not conductive to good relations. But he would help one in need, though he wouldn't go out of his way to look for such a thing. And he most certainly would have accepted anyone who was a family member with love and kindness. Theoren could rightly be called arrogant in some ways, but nobody could ever accuse him of not being compassionate.

[Melanie al-Haadiyah]

Melanie tilted her head sharply, acknowledging a hit when he accused her of evading his question using a cunning strategy of chewing things instead of speaking. Sir Theoren didn't seem to mind too much, but he did want to know. Was he so naïve that he thought merely being a product of some Fleurant by-blow's liaison with an inferior made her family? Perhaps that was how he felt about it, but Melanie had no expectation that the rest of his family would agree.

Even if a few of them did, she wanted nothing to do with them. Anybody who accepted her in spite of her mother's heritage rather than valuing it could hang while Mihra burned them to the bone and Amelie ate out their eyes for all Melanie cared. She had the gods. She didn't need Fleurants. She may never make it down to the sands her Maélazan kin called home and she had never been to the homeland of the Hazir either, but at least neither race had yet rejected her outright. Her luck with northerners had not been so good.

Finally swallowing her first mouthful of this meat and tea adventure they called a meal, Melanie said, "You're right. I am avoiding your question." She took a deep breath and shrugged, unphased. "My point at the start was that if you're used to people tossing each other aside if they aren't politically useful... well, with all due respect to your family's station, Sir Theoren, it might be the company you keep."

[Theoren Fleurant]

Well, at least she was being honest that she was avoiding his question. And Theoren felt that if she wasn't going to give in by him trying to pry for information, she probably would never give him anything. At least now, but still, he figured she didn't have to talk as hostile as she did. But obviously the area was a touchy subject, and he could respect that.

Still, at least from his point of view, he was getting a bit tired of all of this back and forth, attacking and parrying in terms of their speech. If she was going to be that way, then she could stay that way. So with a slight inclination of his head that was the most subtle of nods, he simply addressed her statement. A nod that was if to say "who knows?"

Let her talk some more to him like that. Better to listen, or pretend to listen, and stare out at the water than to get into an argument. So he sat in silence, staring out onto the ocean once more as he did. He could sit in silence, even if someone was sitting beside him. She could talk as long as she wanted, or not. It made no difference to him.