The Prelude (6)

No parent truly wishes to be surpassed by their child.

Freigha had presumed she would eventually confront this realization, but never anticipated it occurring so promptly.

In truth, her grounds for dissuasion were tenuous.

She had warned against the dangers of enlisting. When else could she exert her authority as the Martop matriarch, if not in such circumstances?

Yet Eryne’s abstention would not preclude others from participating, nor avert the impending war.

Amidst her vociferous objections, Freigha found herself enveloped by a complex amalgam of emotions – a sense of her daughter’s maturation mingled with apprehension, yet also a degree of pride in Eryne’s chosen path.

“If you truly oppose this, you could simply arrange for her to join the Martop instead……”

“No, it seems I have overstepped by interfering excessively. Do as you wish.”

“…Are you upset?”

“Not at all. Rather, I am newly struck by how mature you have become.”

And so, at the final moment,

Freigha ultimately abandoned her efforts to sway Eryne’s obstinance.

Had Eryne displayed an inability to differentiate between courage and recklessness by proclaiming intentions to wield firearms at the vanguard, Freigha would have forcibly intervened.

Yet Eryne retained at least a modicum of judgment, harboring no delusions about assuming mercenary duties despite her lack of actual combat experience.

Supporting roles slightly rearward, while still hazardous, constituted an acceptable compromise.

‘Or perhaps not.’

Upon later reflection, Freigha realized the term “acceptable” seemed ill-fitting.

Had Eryne not already matured? A fledgling could not be confined indefinitely to the nest.

Likewise, a child could not remain perpetually ensconced beneath their parent’s aegis. To raise them solely in accordance with one’s desires would be akin to princess-making, not parenting.

“I should not overly worry. Yet promising your safety amid warfare would be disingenuous.”

“Shall I withdraw my application, even now?”

“Even so, I wish to contribute in whatever way I can, rather than merely awaiting the outcome.”

She had indeed developed such profound contemplations. In certain respects, she surpassed even Freigha.

“Are you certain of your choice? You won’t come to regret it later?”

“…Yes.”

Freigha posed her final inquiry, receiving Eryne’s resolute affirmation.

With such unwavering conviction, there was no point in further remonstrations.

Of course, accepting reality remained a separate challenge from maintaining composure.

For if one could remain utterly unperturbed, they would have attained enlightenment – and where could mere mortals aspire to such heights?

Freigha indulged in her cherished spirits after an extended hiatus, ultimately venturing to a tavern in a mildly inebriated state.

Not since the turmoil of Ceres Martop’s tribulations had she resorted to such cathartic intoxication.

“Proprietor.”

“Welcome, welcome. An unfamiliar face – a first-time visitor, I presume?”

“The usual, if you would.”

“…But I’ve never seen you before, ma’am.”

This was not stress-induced.

She simply yearned for a momentary respite from her turbulent emotions through the clarity of inebriation.

“So this is where you frequent?”

“Eh? Edan?”

Before long, a familiar visage entered the establishment.

Detecting a slight slur, he inquired:

“You come here often?”

“No, perhaps once a week at most.”

Initially hypothesizing war-related concerns, Freigha swiftly dismissed the notion.

He was not one to surrender to defeatism, forsaking his determination. The very weapons contracts he had secured from the government served as evidence.

Nor did he appear overburdened by his work at the Martop.

Recalling her impressions since their initial encounter years prior, she could scarcely recall instances of him exhibiting job-related distress – a testament to his professional competence.

“Since when?”

“Around three months, I’d estimate.”

“Ah……”

Come to think of it, that duration roughly coincided with their return from the Antrim excursion alongside Freugne.

Surmising the probable cause, Freigha refrained from prying into what was evidently a personal matter.

Instead, she regarded Edan with a sympathetic gaze, sliding a pre-ordered glass towards him.

Of course, indulging in alcohol inevitably compromised her filter, uninhibitedly venting thoughts she would ordinarily suppress.

“This world leaves me utterly disillusioned. I shall simply drink myself into a stupor.”

“I wasn’t aware you could be so eloquent…?”

“Me? What did I say?”

A memo: Freigha lost her restraint and became coarse-tongued when properly inebriated.

While hardly vital information for Edan, he committed it to memory nonetheless.

Not that he could spare her much concern. His own situation was already a three-ring circus.

“About us.”

“I see.”

“Did we… manage to raise them well?”

“Heh, until yesterday I might have responded with uncertainty.”

“So you believe otherwise now?”

“We raised them splendidly. Who else could have accomplished such a feat? I am proud.”

Freigha, in turn, inquired of Edan:

“And you?”

“I suppose… similar sentiments.”

“As expected? We may agonize, but witnessing this provides a sense of fulfillment.”

“Freugne and Eryne seem to induce slightly different varieties of anguish… In any case, another round?”

And so time flowed onward,

until the day of Cardiff School’s graduation ceremony.

---

Summer was not far, yet a crisp spring chill lingered.

Amid the commencement’s chaotic proceedings, the headmaster bestowed his blessings:

“I pray that you all may fulfill your dreams–”

“Zzzz……”

“You there, no dozing off!”

“What should we do once we get home?”

“I’ve already reserved a tavern, so let’s drink ourselves into oblivion today.”

“Even if adversity awaits, I believe you can overcome any challenges. So always remember the lessons learned at Cardiff–”

The headmaster, having presided over innumerable graduating classes, seemed well aware that protracted sermons would only induce restlessness.

Thus, after a succinct speech, as he prepared to descend from the podium, he offered one final remark:

“May peace and tranquility find you all.”

“That is all.”

“Wooooah!!”

“So this is what graduating feels like, huh.”

“But what about employment? How will we manage that?”

“Now is hardly the time for such nonchalant contemplations. Ah, I hear the munitions Martops have some vacancies.”

“Quiet down.”

Amidst that throng – comprising those fretting over their futures, feigning profound contemplation, and the utterly carefree – I too was present.

Before long, Freugne waved farewell to her friends, clutching a bouquet as she approached me.

“Freugne.”

“Uncle.”

“You’ve grown considerably, wouldn’t you agree?”

“…I suppose so.”

Freugne’s eye level reached my shoulders.

Adolescents underwent transformations with each passing day, yet remnants of her former self lingered.

Unconscious patterns of speech, minor habits, her very gait –

whether ensconced in a shadow cabal or not, capable of foresight or not, she remained the Freugne I remembered.

Folding her arms, she remarked:

“There’s much to prepare for now. Not that I was ever truly idle, but having it loom so imminently is somewhat unnerving.”

“For today, at least, let us commemorate this occasion. No matter how preoccupied, one day can surely be spared.”

“Are you treating, Uncle?”

“Traditionally, such celebrations are the guardian’s prerogative. You are the anomaly here.”

I escorted the business-minded Freugne to a restaurant.

Though not of this world, did parents not customarily mark such milestones by treating their child to an upscale establishment seldom frequented?

Even within this realm, the essence remained unaltered.

And there was no harm in memorializing a fleeting moment, creating treasured recollections.

As we awaited our meals, I posed a question that had lingered in my mind:

“What were your original plans? If this war had not occurred, I mean.”

Freugne responded with a faint smile:

“Did you assume I would not have pursued a shadow cabal?”

“My apologies if that was the impression. However, upon reflection, I cannot envision an alternative path.”

“I did initiate preparations around ten years old, after all.”

“Indeed. You seemed utterly averse to losing anything.”

Then she inquired of me:

“Are you disappointed by the person I’ve become? Do you harbor any regrets whatsoever?”

The answer was predetermined.

Even if granted the chance to revisit the past, my choice would remain unchanged.

“…Of course not.”

“Heh.”

Naturally, were such an opportunity to manifest, additional guidance would be warranted. Yet she had matured admirably overall.

“Our meal has arrived. Let us eat.”

“Yes.”

And after this respite from the complexities of the world,

I engaged Freugne in further serious discussions.

The tender domestic persona she had exhibited until the previous day had receded, her “shadow cabal mode” resurfacing.

“You are aware that full-fledged mercenary recruitment is underway?”

“Indeed, it has been several months now.”

“I cannot remain uninvolved. Here, I shall deploy the ‘Orphanage.'”

“The Orphanage – you mean the one under my auspices?”

“Yes, if you are referring to the foundation’s orphanage entrusted to me. They include former military personnel professionally trained in combat tactics.”

So my charitable endeavors had nurtured a veritable cadre of hitmen. Good grief.