The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 451 - Having The Bigger Boot To Squash Vermin Meant Nothing, When I Waited To Stomp

Chapter 451: Chapter 451 - Having The Bigger Boot To Squash Vermin Meant Nothing, When I Waited To Stomp

The library turned into Elua’s refuge during the visitor’s first night in the Exclave, considering she had ’gifted’ her temporary private room to Zyris as it was the only one she had gone to such excessive containment lengths in. Thick stone walls were much the same in any other room of the house, but her disciples had mentioned they’d left things in there. Which was a good a place as any, especially since it was one of the handful that had been installed with her ’old’ sigilwork essence lanterns that provided steady illumination that would not disturb her concentration.

Handwritten letters lay arranged across the polished marble center-table. Each bore her Qat’s careful handwriting that had always quickly fulfilled her even if they came back one for every ten. She had read through them all, to completion, six whole times before allowing herself to actually touch her own reactions to the details they contained.

Some of it involved the recent details and struggles with the new territory’s management and settlement growth. Updates were delivered in Qat’s almost Guild report writing way. Others detailed training progress with Corde and the frustrations with the woman’s personality. But all of that was mostly at the tail end, as her beloved had not forgotten how to start at the beginning.

Starting with how she handled getting the message from one of her wife’s Skydancers. Telling Leysah about her gender, retrieving the realmshard, dealing with the fox. About the Valmenf family and Nysoi - which while the blunt description of someone trying to ’remarry’ or ’horn in’ on the swordswoman after so little time with Elua missing absolutely ’irritated’ her on the face of things... it also made her want to smile in how Qat turned it all into opportunity.

But it was hard to smile with the rest of what was written.

Her husband-wife becoming a ’former’ Yecine did not make the Goltbred girl as happy as she once expected it could. Because she knew how much the idea of changing things within that family for the better... *meant* to Qatrand. Her fortress had been hurt, held back, and maligned by *some* of them - and despite all that had still wanted to be their ’fortress’. And that came from a beautiful soul who never did anything she felt she did not genuinely want to do.

"I knew they didn’t deserve her, but I... I wanted her to find a way, I think. To not be disappointed or disillusioned in people like me."

The details of the Yecine plot against Ondua itself were so very silly it was no wonder she never felt much threat, even if she sensed the ’enmity’. Onya’s kidnapping attempt coinciding with Sevra’s appearance was reported on in brief sentences. Not understated or downplayed, but with an attempt to keep every part of it factual to the best of the new Warden Patrician’s recollection. It was here that she also went over everything Qat knew about the Saltfire Storm Alliance corruption and crumbling apart.

She had no words to this.

Ultimately there was no injury to Onya thanks to the ritual Elua had placed in possessive sibling worry. But the brunette could imagine the terror that must have coursed through her family just on the detail that Yatrel was going to stab someone and not just pummel them. Then that same woman proceeded to hunt those connected down, just as the ancient cultivator might have.

However, the Dame Goltbred was not her. Experienced, of course, but with a different skill set. One that made direct assaults in a group her only way to do things. One that made the wound she suffered all too likely compared to solitary infiltration through Illusions that would lead to a confused but rapid dismantling of every corrupted part.

Which is what she had planned for the Saltfire anyway, after what they did at the competition. The knowledge that ’allies’ turned enemies had gotten close enough to touch the child she adored, all because of the reincarnator’s own past decision to take on the work of drafting their Acid ritual hastened their rise... all because of putting off dealing with them thanks to the Descent?

The heiress’s hands trembled without the letters in them. A year of separation compressed down in her heart into the most guilty of the words. The ones that mentioned the threats *she* had let fester. Her spiritual sense expanded throughout the mansion to confirm her guests remained asleep. Then, seeming outwardly to anyone that could have seen her as calm as can be... she walked out of the room.

Out of the building and toward the cliff, while stepping into panels of air. Rising higher quicker until she cleared the basalt arch, propelling herself up and up just short of making the sound of a booming ’thwump’ as she felt her father might label it. Toward the peak of the Exclave’s spherical boundary.

At least until the air got so thin that it became troublesome to gather underneath to provide thrust, which was certainly above the low and mid level golden clouds. Only then did she allow her facade she had re-enabled for the first time in so long to crack completely.

"Guh!"

The short teenager who contained millennia of memories of failures, as much or more than successes, pressed her hands into her eyes and wept. Not tears of strategy, meant to manipulate... or even an honest display of grief not held back because of how the vulnerability could be used as a feint. Or even happy, moved blubbering while hugging her *friend*.

"I’m sorry... dad."

They were only the altitude chilled tears of a daughter who hadn’t been there when her loyal mother lost an eye making sure the family did not have violent enemies loose in the world. Who hadn’t personally stood between danger and a toddler who called her name with such love and trust. And a wife who had felt she wasn’t brave enough to seek isolation again if she dared go back - while her most precious person navigated life alone for the sake of their ’growth’ and ’experience’.

For being the eldest of his progeny and failing him, her whole heart profusely reached for the memories of the so often amiable father that was not there. Ondua would clearly have mixed feelings - not being thrilled his little girl was crying or blaming herself, but still some amount of ’victorious’ that she would think of him at all when seeking comfort. That she wanted to cling to him *secondmost* right now would be considered a great win.

"I could have protected everyone there. Not cared at all about the two stuck here with me. About keeping the Exclave stable when we first arrived."

Her wispy voice crawled through without an ounce of ’sweetness’. Bitter and accusatory as she lay on a panel of highly pressurized gases, in a large bubble of minimally breathable atmosphere. The logic of the ’what if’ felt more sound while she was so emotional, at least until something else entered her head.

Her time with Sevra after she started thinking of the woman as a friend. Trapping Madrigil permanently or worse was barely a shame in her mind, at this point, but the scout was different. Moreover, if she could be turned around with her prejudice, than the exiled noble scholar also might someday be considered ’important’ to her. She wasn’t sure if she had the foresight to label people as *never* necessary to her.

"Even... if not that, I could have slipped back first through the Gateway and then... sequestered myself later. After I dealt with the Saltfire leadership that was trying to scatter. I would have been there the day they came for Onya."

Knowing waiting that long like she had to send the former assassin back also meant she would therefore not have been able to change almost anything ’for Qat’ made her chest ache. But the more she thought about it, the more the practical voice in her mind told herself there was... so little she could have done other than be there with her.

Perhaps pursue quiet, petty revenge that could make the Yecine leadership realize their mistake. Even if part of her felt nothing could be better than Qat’s own hard work showing them that, even while crying her eyes out and rolling around on her ’rectangular cloud’. Alone with the consequences of being powerful enough to solve problems - but absent when solutions were needed most.

"Actively doing nothing is the worst."

Her fingertips dug around the edges of her own left eye, sharing the mint color of the one now missing. Thinking things she was sure she would have to talk Qat into agreeing with if the swordswoman were here. Eventually her mind moved from atonement to the next best solutions. To tomorrow, when she would need to be the composed mentor for Fusand hez Talcres and his fiancee Nohre... and she supposed Zyris would count in that mentee category as well, once she finished working through things.

However, tonight, she just wiped her eyes and stared up into the greenish black of the Exclave barrier. Holding knowledge that cut just like holding a blade on the wrong end. But instead of letting go, she began using the resolve it engendered to ’carve’ sigils through her illusions into her palms. Just like her cherishing husband-wife had carved assurance with every ounce of beautiful, strong muscle that wielded the pen.

/ I love you, El. Still. Always. I can weather anything except you forgetting that. /

The brunette clenched her fists over the two potential blueprints she was designing in tandem, before letting loose her Element and falling against the thin substance so filled with her variety of Gaseous essence...

For over a dozen miles.