Book 2 Chapter 03: Boring Affair

Joan flushed and stared at the rather elegant, red dress that was being offered to her. She tried to speak, but couldn’t imagine what she could say. It was perfect. Beautiful. It looked as if it was something an elf would have made, possibly even woven by magic. Even as the Hero she couldn’t remember having anything so nice.

“Well?” Bauteut asked, motioning once more towards it. “Come along, you have to have some opinion of it.”

“Did you make it? How? When?” Joan asked. “Why?” She reached out and touched the fabric. It seemed to almost ripple at her touch, flowing along her fingers like water. There were at least two different shades of red, the arms and sides were a dark red while the center, from the neck down, was more of a pink. Threads of what she would have assumed was silver were between the two different reds, drawing the eyes to them with ease. Over the chest the symbol of Dusklam, Hardwin’s house, had been stitched with a dark blue thread.

“Of course not, I can mend a tear but nothing like this.. If you are the daughter of Lord Hardwin, you should look the part. It was Searle’s idea, however. Having a new chosen appear has caused quite the stir and you’d be surprised just how many people are crawling over themselves to bring him gifts,” Bauteut said with a light chuckle. “Or, well, if you weren’t a seer I’m sure you’d be surprised.”

Joan nodded, stroking a finger along the symbol of the Dusklam house. “I see. I should thank him, shouldn’t I?”

Bauteut stared at her for a long moment before, very slowly, she moved forward and sat on the bed besides her. “Joan? Are you okay?”

“What? I’m fine. I’m--” Joan stopped herself short when she realized why the healer was asking that. She was crying. Why in the world was she crying? She quickly reached up and wiped her eyes, struggling to find out the reason for the tears. Had someone she cared about died in a dress like this? No memories sprang to life. Was it the symbol? No. Was it something else? She didn’t even feel sad or scared or anything like that. She stared at the dress and realized she didn’t feel sad at all. She felt HAPPY. Incredibly happy. “I’m fine,” she said again, choking on the words slightly. She mentally tried to push those feelings away, wondering what in the world was wrong with her.

“It’s okay,” Bauteut said in a soothing tone, reaching out and lightly placing a hand on her back. “If you don’t like the dress, we can find something else.”

“It’s not that,” Joan said, choking on the words. She mentally screamed at herself, wondering what in the world was wrong with her. Why would she be so happy over something so stupid? It was a pretty dress, the most petty and silly thing in the world. “I love the dress. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so lovely in my entire life.”

“Oh?” Bauteut asked. “Not a big dress wearer, I take it? Or just never had the chance? I guess it is hard to go off and fight trolls in one, huh?”

Joan nodded, struggling to find the right words. “Yes, exactly. It’s such a stupid, silly thing. But I’m happy. I’m so happy and it’s a big, stupid dress and it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen so much death, so much destruction. I’ve seen the world burn again and again in my visions and I don’t have time to worry about such things! I don’t have time to be happy about a stupid dress and--” She was cut off when Bauteut put a single finger to her lips to shush her. She sighed and awaited yet another lecture from the healer.

Instead, Bauteut just smiled at her. “I understand, Joan.”

“What?” Joan asked. “I don’t, it’s not important enough to--”

“Shhhh, Joan. Listen to me,” Bauteut said in a soothing tone. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you’re allowed to relax and like things. If you like pretty dresses, that’s okay. I know you’re scared and worried about everything that’s going on. I know your visions have you worried and you think that if you don’t push yourself at all times, going as hard as could be, you’re afraid you’re going to fail and ruin everything.” The healer very gently patted her head, soothingly petting the hair. Joan couldn’t be sure, but she suspected the healer was using a bit of magic to her touch to make it feel incredibly soothing and calming. It did help, at least. “But you’re not built for that, nobody is. Like it or not, you’re still a little girl who needs to take care of herself or she’ll fall apart. Nobody can survived going a hundred percent at all times. If you try, you’ll end up sick and collapse again. Is that what you want?”

Joan shook her head. “No, but--”

“No, you don’t,” Bauteut said, cutting her off. “More importantly, everyone needs a chance to calm down and examine things from a calmer, nicer perspective. That’s why we have celebrations, parties and festivals even during times of war. Nobody, not even a seer, can push themselves that hard if they want to survive. Just because you let yourself enjoy yourself and relax once in a while won’t mean you’re failing or letting anyone down, okay?”

Joan gave a small nod. “But it’s not--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bauteut said, before slowly making her look up. “You need a break. A nice, soothing, relaxing break. And so what if you like a dress? If it’s important to you and makes you feel happy, nobody has any right to complain about it. Do you like dresses?”

“I mean, a little bit,” Joan said softly, her cheeks going a little redder before she glanced over at it. She had been the Hsero, the one who had faced gods and fought through more blood, tears and pain than likely anyone in the world. How could she let herself feel so happy over something so simple and mundane? She didn’t have time for such selfish thoughts. “Is it really okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Bauteut said. “If anything I’d say it’s probably the most healthy behavior I’ve seen you display since I’ve met you. It’s certainly healthier than running off and trying to hunt a wyvern with a broken spear.”

“Wait, who told you about that?” Joan asked and couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of alarm that formed on the healer’s face, then mild annoyance when the woman realized that she had been making a joke. “Can you help me put it on?”

“Oh, truly? Who would have thought that a life of hunting monsters has left you ill prepared for the rigors of donning a proper dress. Very well,” Bauteut said with a snicker.

Joan got to her feet and walked to the mirror, ignoring the teasing comment while the woman helped her change. “It’s not my fault. I don’t see why people even make garments like this,” she said while she struggled to figure out where all the ties were. “There are plenty of dresses that are easy to get into or don’t require magic in order to properly tighten.”

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“Oh? So you’d prefer a dress you can slip on and off like a tunic?” Bauteut asked with an amused smile as she worked. “Why does that not surprise me? You’re supposed to be Lord Hardwin’s daughter, you know. Nobility is expected to wear things like this to big events. Besides, this is your first time meeting the prince, isn’t it? Don’t you want to make a good impression? Stars know the impression you’ve made on the rest of the royal family.”

Joan paused and thought about that for a moment. She had a sneaking suspicion her initial ‘impression’ with the royal family was less focused on her clothing and more on just how many of her bones had been shattered at the time. Probably a lot of questions about where Hardwin had found her and, more importantly, why. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it that much.”

“Aren’t you a little excited to meet the prince? I figure he’d be the exact kind of person you’d love to meet,” Bauteut said with a small grin. “The rumors say he’s a master with the blade, a prodigy just like yourself.”

“Not everyone lives up to the rumors,” Joan said, trying to remember anything she could about the prince. When she had been the Hero she had met him at least once that she could remember. They’d even fought once or twice. He hadn’t been anything special. In fact, she remembered hearing all kinds of rumors about him, how he had been the greatest of fighters on the front lines, slaying demons left and right, a master of the blade who could compare even with Hardwin. Yet whenever they fought he had been passable at best. It had been such a disappointment when they actually fought and she found out someone so mundane had managed such a reputation. At least this time she wouldn’t have to waste her time with him for long. “To be honest, I’m a lot more interested in hearing news from the front lines.”

Bauteut gave a soft sigh. “A chance to meet the prince and you’re more interested in finding out how the war is going? You’re really a strange girl sometimes, Joan.”

“We’re on the brink of extinction,” Joan said, her voice coming out far more harsh than she intended. “We only hold three more cities of actual import. Even if he is a prince, if the front lines continue to be pushed back, then he’ll be the prince of ruins.”

Bauteut sighed again before reaching out and lightly patting her on the head. “Joan, you shouldn’t have to worry about--”

“And yet, I do,” Joan said softly before shoving the other girl’s hand off her head and pointing at it. “I’ve seen visions of what can happen if we don’t deal with this threat correctly. So no, I cannot find myself that interested in the arrival of the prince.”

“Very well, you do have to worry about that. But you shouldn’t spend every day of your life worrying about it,” Bauteut said with a small smile. “What do you want to talk about, then? Pretty dresses, maybe?”

“I didn’t tell you that so you could mock me,” Jone said softly. To her surprise, the healer pulled her into a hug from behind, before motioning towards the mirror.

“I wasn’t mocking you, you look adorable, Joan. A pretty young woman,” Bauteut said in a soft tone. “An incredibly stressed young woman who has run herself ragged every day that I have known her. A pretty young woman who needs to take a few soft, deep breaths and find a distraction for herself before she entirely falls apart.”

Joan stared at her reflection for a few moments, blinking. The dress was gorgeous. She, on the other hand, was not. She might have been passable at best, the rather elegant dress just made her seem more plain than she ever had before. A small part of her wondered if she had been the Hero how she would have looked. She quickly shoved that thought away. The Hero wasn’t supposed to wear a dress, he was supposed to be a legendary figure for all to see. She reached up and lightly patted her cheeks, trying to shake that thought away. She was the Hero reborn, she shouldn’t care about any kind of dress to begin with. The whole world was counting on her to succeed or they would all burn. She--

“OW!” Joan said harshly when her cheek was, rather roughly, slapped by Bauteut. “You hit me!”

“Oh, stop being such a baby, I didn’t hit you that hard,” Bauteut said with a sigh, glancing down at her. “I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m going to do something stupid’ look.”

“I always look like this!” Joan said angrily.

“And how often do you do something stupid?” Bauteut said, giving a smirk that Joan barely resisted the urge to slap off her face. “Look. I get it. You’re scared. You’ve had terrible visions and you’re sure everything is going to go horrible in the end if you don’t fix it. Right?”

“Yes,” Joan said, glaring at the woman.

“What can you do about it now?”

“Nothing,” Joan said grudgingly.

“Exactly. Nothing. So, in that case, what should you do?” Bauteut asked.

“Plan and figure out how to--”

“You should try to relax. It’s just one evening. Besides, you’re a personal guest of the queen and one of the chosen. You know how many people would kill for that opportunity?” Bauteut asked.

“Do you want to take my place?” Joan asked in her most deadpan voice she could muster. Even when she had been a hero these kinds of events had always made her uncomfortable. The celebrations had been nice, but the meeting of random dignitaries had been miserable. Worse, she wasn’t the Hero now so she couldn’t even take a nap through them because she was bored.

“I would absolutely love to. But we both know that’s not how this works. I am your attendant this evening. Unless you would rather hang with the servants all night?” Bauteut asked.

Joan nodded. “Honestly, I would. They always have the best gossip. EEEE!” Joan shrieked when a sudden pinching pain shot down her spine. Her cheeks turned scarlet before she turned to glare at her healer who just smiled. “You did that on purpose!”

“Sorry, my hand slipped,” Bauteut said with a smile that she didn’t buy for a second.

“I’ll behave, okay? No doing anything stupid, I’ll even try to relax. Will that make you happy?” Joan asked.

“It’s a start. So, tell me, have you had any visions of this evening?” Bauteut asked.

“I told you, my visions don’t work that way,” Joan said with a roll of her eyes. “They only relate to the chosen and--”

“Searle is going to be there. He’s a chosen.”

“It’s a return of the prince,” Joan said with a sigh. “It’s not even a full party. It’s going to be a bland, boring affair. If you’re lucky, maybe someone will spill their drink.”

------

Joan narrowly slammed the door closed behind herself, shoving her body against it. She heard a loud thump when the beast slammed into it and she was nearly shoved out of the way. Only Bauteut slamming in besides her managed to keep it closed, though the beast clawed angrily at the door.

“Boring affair?” Bauteut asked, glaring at her.

“Shut up, I need to plan!” Joan yelled. There had to be something she could use against them. She glanced down at her hand but, honestly, she didn’t know what she expected. She didn’t have a weapon. She hadn’t even bound her new sword to her yet, so she couldn’t even summon it. She swore if she survived this she was going to make sure Searle escorted her to every dinner from now on. By the gods, even the dignitaries sounded far more appealing now.