Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was late afternoon when they arrived home from Ezrest.

The long shadows stretched across the grass towards the atelier, and the herbs in the garden seemed to wave a tentative greeting in the breeze, but for once these things went unnoticed and unappreciated.

The flight from Kahln was one traveled in near silence, the six of them too tired to talk, too hungry to joke, too distracted, too melancholy to do anything but fly and long for bed. 

When they landed, shoes setting down a short distance from the front door, Richeh stumbled on the uneven ground and Olruggio reached out to catch her by her arm.

“Easy there,” he murmured, and carefully released her as she straightened.

Qifrey, meanwhile, looked exhausted. His pale cloak was streaked with grime and spattered with the rust of old blood - from the leech, Olly assumed - and his expression was positively haunted. It was hard to look at him like this. It made him feel as though he’d failed his duties as a Watchful Eye (and a friend), and not just by a little, but catastrophically. Qifrey’s eye locked for a moment on Olruggio, then looked away, and there was something about the exchange that caused Olruggio’s stomach to lurch.

“Alright!” Olruggio said, setting the feeling forcefully away and summoning energy he didn’t truly possess. He pressed a palm to the front door and guided it open slowly on its hinges. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Four tired, disheveled faces looked up, and it dawned on him that he couldn’t look much better. Covered in grass stains and ash, his hair matted by sweat, heavy cloak dragging along the ground - there was probably nothing reassuring about his own appearance.

“Everyone get cleaned up, change your clothes and go rest up for a bit. Go to sleep if you need to, but I’m going to work on getting dinner ready. If you feel up to it, come out and grab some, and if you don’t, I’m going to leave the food out until you do. Later tonight we’re going to go over what happened, but for now, just focus on resting and getting cleaned up.”

Three heads nodded in unison, and Tetia muttered a worn, “Okay,” as they filed past and into the warmth and familiarity of the building. The brushbuddy inched along behind them, and it was a testament to the little creature’s bond with the girls that it hadn’t made for the hills in all the chaos of the last two days. He’d have to find it some kind of treat to repay the act of loyalty.

“You too, go rest,” Olruggio ordered as Qifrey stepped to the open door. “And whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t want to hear it.” The words themselves were harsh, but he couldn’t help but deliver them softly. 

Qifrey paused and licked his dry lips. Never had he looked more like a wilted flower, left too long in its vase.

“I’ll need to visit the Hall to discuss something with Beldaruit-” Qifrey started.

“He can wait. You don’t think he has ten people knocking his door down right now? You don’t think Sinocia isn’t fussing over him? Man’s probably up to his ears in Knights.”

Qifrey seemed to consider the likelihood of this, and relented. 

“Tomorrow then,” he said.

“Tomorrow,” Olruggio agreed.

Qifrey nodded, just once, and started to move across the stoop, trailing after the girls. 

Olruggio was ready to let him go - fully planned on it, even - but his own traitorous hand reached out and caught him by the back of his robe, stopping Qifrey in his tracks. Before his friend could object, Olruggio closed the distance between them and set his forehead against Qifrey’s shoulder, holding him snuggly from behind. It was only natural to lean, to rest his weight against Qifrey and wind his friend’s robe in his closed fist, knuckles white. (It was only natural.)

Something about the show of vulnerability seemed to shake Qifrey from his torpor, and he turned in place and maneuvered until he could wrap both arms around Olruggio’s shoulders.

“You’ve done so well,” he said. “It can't have been enjoyable work, but you were above and beyond, as always.”

“You too,” Olruggio muttered. “There’s still four of ‘em. Five if you count the worm.”

It was said in the cadence of a joke, but neither of them laughed, and he could only marvel that the words were true.

“Let’s not go anywhere for awhile,” Qifrey said, just by Olruggio’s ear. “Perhaps we just stay put for the next few weeks.”

“Years, more like. I won’t go anywhere if you don’t.”

“Mm,” Qifrey agreed, in the nebulous way he always did when he was deep in thought. After a pause, he lifted his hand and brushed his thumb carefully across the skin at the base of Olruggio's neck, where the leech had so firmly attached. "Pains me to know I wasn't there to help, but I am glad you're feeling better. That much is a relief."

"Physically, anyway," Olruggio gave him a rueful half grin, and rather than lighten the mood, Qifrey's expression softened, and his brow knit as he looked away.

As reluctant as Olruggio was to detangle himself, they were both needed elsewhere. Coco especially looked as though she was in need of some quiet reassurance, and Olruggio didn’t know how skilled he was at that particular brand of comfort. Gruff affection had a time and a place, and he was self aware enough to know that this was not it.

“I’m going to get started on dinner then,” he said, and released the grey fabric from his tight grip.

“Thank you,” came the distracted reply. "I do not think I could be deserving of you, but few could."

The reply was not what Olruggio was expecting to hear in that moment, and he had no answer for it. He merely nodded once, and stepped into the building.

"You come talk to me later, right? Don't get all alone in your head when you don't have to be."

Once inside, he made for the kitchen. The bath would undoubtedly be busy for some time, so he peeled off his heavy robe and lay the dark expanse of cloth across the back of the nearest chair.

The solitude of the room was welcome. There was no din from the crowds, no need to be on or socially graceful for the sake of patrons or customers or flag waving parade goers; here he could be as himself as he needed to be.

And he needed to be.

A quick look through the larder told him that a trip to the market was in order, but that there was at least enough for a decent meal. A straightforward stew might do nicely. They had root vegetables in the larder and half a loaf of bread set away. There were a few pieces of thick cut bacon, protected from the air with some of Qifrey’s clever seals, and he knew for a fact that the garden had enough herbs to round the whole thing out.

“Suppose that’s it then,” he said to the empty room.

The skin on his hands sent him a sharp rebuke when he reached into the vapour bubble to wash up, and upon closer inspection he saw that his palms were red and tender, and there were blisters between his fingers. The heat from the pyreballs exploding off the pages of his quire was almost certainly the culprit, but he'd been too caught up in the moment to notice. Now that nothing more immediately pressing was afoot, the angry little wounds made themselves known with a fury.

There was little to be done about it for now, however. Olruggio helped himself to a clean cloth from the cupboard and ripped it neatly through the centre, then wound his sore hands until the worst of it was covered. With that problem temporarily solved, he started prepping for the meal.

It didn’t take long. He fell into a deep and focused state as he worked, silently dicing the vegetables into even cubes and mincing the herbs into something roughly appropriate for a rustic stew. In his tired haze, he assembled everything in the heavy pot and reached for his quire to write an entirely different kind of fire spell, invoking a silent flame that burned warmly and steadfastly as he settled the pot above it.

He much preferred these kind of spells to the kind that lit up the night sky and seared the very air around him. 

Beyond the shock of the leech itself, why did Qifrey still seem so plagued? There had been plenty of horrors if you cared to look, plenty of screams unintentionally committed to memory, but what had Coco seen that had pressed her into this stony, contemplative silence? An even better question, perhaps, was what he could do about any of it in the meantime?

As the stew simmered away, he gathered the bowls from the cupboard and lay them out on the table in their typical spots. Something about the gesture seemed necessary. Maybe it was the consistency and predictability that had been so lacking in the days before, but he was grateful for the tiny ritual.

With the places set and stew simmering away, he pulled a chair from the table and didn’t sit, so much as collapse into it. Olruggio was used to being tired. The push and pull of threadbare consciousness was like an old friend - familiar, frustrating - but this particular weariness was so deep he knew as he set his head in his hands that he was going to lose the battle.

Conceding, he shut his eyes and let himself be dragged through the gauzy curtain of sleep and toward the quiet of the void.

Tomorrow, at least, would be better.

Chapter Text

Adanlee was a blunt, predictable little village, though if he had to make any concessions in its favour, Olruggio supposed the name itself was pretty enough.

He sat on the stoop to his cottage and squinted into the sun, watching the other villagers go about their afternoon chores. They hung their laundry over the hedges to dry and collected fresh eggs, hauled water hand over hand from the well, and mended their clothes under the shade of the trees.

It was all very expected. It was all very peaceful.

And something about it was so jarringly wrong, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.

It was just an ordinary afternoon, yet everything felt shifted on its axis somehow, including himself. He knew at this time of the day he should be chopping wood for the fire or weeding the garden, but it was hard to rid himself of the feeling that there was something else he would normally be doing with his time.

He knew he did something with his hands, though the what of it escaped him. A painter? A woodcarver? He was a craftsman of some kind, that much went without saying, but the forgetfulness was irritating, the answer forever on the tip of his tongue.

Olruggio dragged his hand through his hair, then winced. The skin on his palm and at the base of his fingers was still blistered from the axe where the handle had rubbed too often.

At least it seemed like that would be the most likely culprit. What else would cause such tenderness? His mind felt as though it was trying to correct him on the matter.

He set his chin in his hand and mulled the mystery over some more.

There had been someone else. He’d lived with this someone, and together they did this… this profession, whatever it was, and they were both exceptionally good at it, from what little he could recall.

Olruggio wondered if he loved this other person. It certainly felt as if he did. He would often look over at the door, waiting for the someone to step into his humble cottage, but each day came and went with no visitors. The feeling left him hollow and unsettled, his heart restless. The logical thing to do would be to not think about it, but that seemed, somehow, worse.

“Master Olly?” There came a voice, young and perhaps a little boyish, but when he glanced up, there was no one looking in his direction. The other villagers were bustling about as they always did, seeing to their chores, or else chatting between themselves. None so much as glanced his way.

Had he been a master? Masters made good money, so that much was promising, though if he had that much expertise surely he should remember what it was that he did.

“You shouldn’t sleep there,” said the voice again, and the village began to soften and fade before him. Rather than being alarmed by the development, Olruggio watched as a passive observer, letting the nearby cottages blur and fall away before him, until it all sunk into a comforting darkness.

Olruggio woke suddenly, nearly tipping the kitchen chair he’d propped himself on.

Agott’s hand lay on his shoulder, holding him steady as he balanced himself against the table.

“Just go to bed,” she said. “You shouldn’t keep doing this, it’s bad for you. Master Qifrey thinks so too.”

He sat up stiffly, the inside of his mouth feeling thick and unpleasant. Had he been sleeping with it open? Had he been dreaming? Whatever had been on his mind was fleet-footed enough to vanish before he could pin it down, and from the uneasy feeling it left behind he was very glad of it. 

“Did you eat?” He asked, changing the subject. The words came out mumbled, but she nodded in response, and on the far side of the table he noted a half-finished bowl of stew and the crusty end of the bread, a single, tiny bite taken from it.

“A little. Everyone else is still sleeping, and Coco seemed like she needed to be alone.” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t want to push her about it.”

Olruggio made a sound of thoughtful agreement.

“How’re you feelin’?” He sat up fully and dropped his arm over the back of the chair. Briefly, he considered that he really should go to bed, that he was doing himself no favours by playing the role of sleepy sentinel. 

Agott’s features, serious at the best of times, took on a somber expression.

“Would you teach me defensive magic?” 

Olruggio’s brows lifted in surprise.

“Defensive magic? Like what?”

“Like what you and the others were doing with the leech. The flame shields, and those fireballs.”

Fireballs? The girl had real ambition. Not that he could blame her. He’d been younger than her when he first started experimenting with home brewed infernos.

“Not on your life. That’s exactly the kind of stuff I’m supposed to keep away from you, and I’m already falling on that front depending on who you ask.”

“I think this is kind of…” Agott paused, and made her way around the room and back to her chair. “Extenuating circumstances though.”

“Make your case,” he said, reaching across the table for her half-finished bowl of stew. He slid it in front of him with two fingers and picked up her spoon. 

“This is the third time we’ve run into something like this, right?”

Olruggio lifted a helping into his mouth and nodded. It wasn’t half bad.

“I just think if it were to happen again, knowing how to shield or make a distraction of some kind could go a long way.”

It was a fair point. He swallowed and took another bite.

“Can I see your quire?” She asked.

Unthinkingly, he reached beside him and slid it over. 

Qifrey kept a loose but cultivated curriculum, saving room for lessons that naturally arose, and adapting on the fly as individual student needs changed. It was his purview as their professor, and Olruggio was loath to interfere in any way. With that said, his own official role within the atelier was observation and protection, and what were flame shields if not protection? Surely it was better to know more, rather than less about dangerous magic.

He glanced to Agott, only to find her leafing through his quire, her focus sharp on the pages of the round little booklet.

“Woah, woah, woah!” He gestured frantically for her to return the quire. “I take it back! Don’t look in there. You’re too smart, I can’t have you picking those spells apart.” 

“Then teach me!” She bristled, sliding his quire back in frustration. “Master Qifrey doesn’t have to know.”

“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Olruggio exhaled and glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder to the hall. It remained dark, the others still engaged elsewhere.

For what felt like a full minute, but must’ve been scarcely half that, he considered her words.

Then he lunged forward over the tabletop and tapped its wooden surface repeatedly, and she leaned forward to meet him, a conspiracy of two. 

“One spell. One defensive fire spell. I’m not sending you out in the world with the knowledge of how to lob off fireballs, hear me? You can learn how to shield yourself, and that’s it for now.”

Agott nodded enthusiastically.

Olruggio pushed the now empty bowl away. “Alright, hurry up. Get outside quick before I change my mind.”

She nearly tripped in her haste to find her shoes.

Outside the atelier the last of the late summer sun was slinking over the horizon. Far in the distance a raincloud rolled across the vast expanse, but it was still far enough away that it posed no immediate threat to their lesson.

They strode with purpose, past the vegetable garden and just over the nearest rise.

“Alright!” 

They had gone far enough.

Olruggio stopped and fished around in his sleeve until he grasped the searneedle wand and pulled it out. After the debacle that was Silver Eve, the nib was blunted and badly in need of a change, but it would do for now. The last thing Nolnoa probably wanted was visitors.

“First of all, never do this unless I’m around,” he said, gesturing to her with the point of the wand.

On the wind ruffled grass, Agott sunk into a crouch and crossed her arms across her knees. “Got it.”

“Second of all, you know how to cast an ice shield. A flame shield follows the same principles as ice in that you tie it to your centre so it moves as you move, but if you don’t project the flames as pointing out-” He paused and dragged the word for emphasis. “You’ll roast yourself inside. So flames directed away.”

Agott nodded, unfazed.

“I need you to rephrase that for me to let me know you understand.”

Agott cleared her throat. “Make sure the flames are projected outward, or the inward facing flames will burn you.”

“Right, good. Stay back for a second.”

Olruggio flipped open his quire and dashed off a quick flame shield, keeping the signs short to minimize the duration of the cast. He closed the circle to activate it, and was immediately encircled in a rush of familiar warmth. The air outside of the shield boiled, and blue and orange flames licked and snapped, searching hungrily for something to ignite, but inside the spell was pleasant, harmless.

And then, as quickly as it had flared to life, the shield vanished, and the air was once again cool and breezy.

“Going forward, the last spell in your quire is going to be a drenching spell, and if I catch you without it, I’m-” 

Olruggio paused, unable to think of a stern enough admonishment.

“Just don’t let me catch you without it. It’s a long way to Kalhn’s hospital and a burn is going to make you realize that like you wouldn’t believe.”

She nodded, gaze fierce.

It remained that way for a heartbeat, but very quickly the expression fell from her face, and Olruggio watched as her focus turned suddenly to a point behind him. She sat up straighter in her crouch.

“Eh?” Olruggio turned in place, and his gaze lit upon two figures in the distance as they stepped from the back door of the atelier.

The two shapes, Qifrey and Coco, settled themselves by the foot of the conical tower, their posture anything but casual. Qifrey leaned forward, hands spread as if explaining, and Coco… If he wasn’t mistaken, Coco looked still and melancholy, her shoulders a little slumped. It was no wonder, really.

Olruggio sunk down low and flattened himself to the grass to avoid detection, and without a word Agott joined him, wriggling in next to him.

“D’you suppose this is about Tartah?” He asked.

Agott shook her head, just as uncertain. The distance was too far to hear their conversation, and he wouldn’t have listened even if he could.

(Or maybe he would’ve, but just long enough to make sure everything was alright.)

“You didn’t see where Qifrey went last night, did you? Before the counterclock spell, I mean.”

Agott only glanced at him. “I thought he was with you, or maybe at the healing spire. Was Coco with you?”

“No.” Olruggio ran the tips of his fingers slowly across his chin.

In the distance the conversation carried on, and even from Olruggio’s position he could tell it was a tense exchange, as if they were discussing something dire.

“Qifrey,” he muttered, helplessly sympathetic, just as Agott spoke at the same time.

“C’mon, Coco.” 

Her tone was a mirror of his own.

They exchanged a meaningful look, and he came to a profound realization about young Agott.

Agott and Coco were friends.

Friends in the way he and Qifrey had been friends at that age, adventurous and defiant, ruled by a sense of justice that had not yet been ground down by the powers that be. Friends who would willingly leap into the path of danger for one another. Friends who wanted nothing more than to impress one another, share spells, and search out one another’s company at every given opportunity. 

Under normal circumstances he would’ve found their burgeoning relationship sweet and worthy of gentle protection. Like Qifrey, however, Coco had a spirited streak and tragedy nipping at her heels, and trying to protect a friend with such a casual disregard for their own wellbeing meant carrying some of that misfortune for them. 

It was difficult, unacknowledged work with no likely end.

Olruggio lay his head on the grass and offered a small smile.

“You’re good for her, Agott.”

Agott looked at him intently, as daring him to give voice to the thought.

“What happens now?” She said after a pause, gaze darting across his face.

“Now?”

In the distance there came a low roll of thunder across the Downs. 

“I think you’d make a good watchful eye,” he said finally.

She made a face of polite, yet immediate distaste at the idea, interpreting the words literally. Then, as he watched, she suddenly seemed to take the meaning of his words, and her eyes widened. Not the official, duty bound role required by The Wise, but something outside that. Someone in the background, quietly ready to step in when necessary. A cooler head in times of stress, ready to smooth over problems and coax passions back towards reason.

“You-” 

Agott flushed a splotchy red, and Olruggio scrubbed at the bridge of his nose as he turned back to watch Qifrey. 

“Do you and Master Qifrey, um.” She hesitated, trying to ask a question that Olruggio had no real answer to anyway. “So you’re his watchful eye…”

“Agott,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“What way do the flames go?”

She stared for a second too long, then blinked. “Outward. Facing out.”

He pushed himself onto his hands, rising from the ground in one stiff, inelegant motion. “That’s the one. Let’s go back inside before we get rained on, and if you could, please make sure Coco eats something.”

Agott nodded.