Chapter 105 Book 2 Ch 43: Vaughn

I do sympathize with you sister, it’s certainly not fun to be the only young woman left at the estate. I remember when it was just myself, Chorde, Jude, and Vaugh. I swear though he was younger than I, Vaughn was barking orders at everyone from the age of two. I don’t think I’d ever seen a child make a servant cry before.

• Theodosia Morrow in a letter to Bernice Morrow

Solomon suppressed a sigh at his brother’s comment. He had been an unhealthy child, but he’d long outgrown the illnesses of his youth. Certainly he wasn’t as healthy as his siblings, but he was far from bedridden and wasting away. In fact, since he’d moved to Moonfallow he’d felt healthier and stronger than he ever had before, aside from all of the mana induced headaches and nausea.

He ignored his brother’s comment and pulled Crimson Command from his waist. He could see its mana oscillating a bit at his touch. He would miss the blade, he realized. He liked the sureness of having it at his waist and he appreciated how well it compensated for his weakness when it came to martial talent. He also knew that it had been trying to help him with the visions it gave him, in its own way. If he had some way of keeping it, he would, but it wasn’t something he could easily claim had been stolen or lost and if he had then it would’ve hurt him more than having the blade benefited him.

He held the blade out to Vaughn who stood up from his desk to take it from him. His brother drew the blade inspecting both sides of the red blade as well as its edge, then he returned it to its sheath and slid it through his belt.

“I found the blade seemed to respond better to me after I drew enemy blood with it,” he mentioned.

“You saw combat on the way here?” asked Vaugh.

“Mer attacked the Arabella. One of them snuck into my cabin. Without Crimson Command I may not have survived.”

That was untrue. He certainly had a variety of methods for handling the average mer, but Crimson Command was certainly less likely to raise suspicion.

“A blade that can turn even you into a warrior. I’m grateful father chose to bequeath it to me. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and have a prisoner that needs executing later. That would be a fine excuse to blood it.”

Solomon regarded him silently. He wasn’t sure why, but his intuition told him that the blood needed to be drawn in battle. He didn’t feel a need to explain that to him though.

“I must supervise for several more hours, but once that’s complete you will join me for dinner.”

It wasn’t a request, so Solomon simply nodded and turned to be led away to the officer's quarters. He had little to look forward to when it came to dining with Vaughn. Generally all of his meals with family that wasn’t Bernice tended to be highly unpleasant and rife with drama. At least Vaughn wouldn’t be making an attempt to take advantage of his valet… unless military life had changed him more than he realized.

The quarters were nowhere near as lavish of those at the waystation and Solomon actually found that he much preferred the simplicity. The other room had been an overfilled and chaotic mix of eclectic oddness and the spartan bed, desk, and lounging chair he now had were at least stylistically consistent and practical.

He cleaned off the dust from the last day's travel using a water basin and a towel and changed into fresh clothes. Once that was done he turned his attention to his sigil studies. Every day of his travel with Jakul and the other auxiliaries had reminded him of just how little knew of the basics of magic. He often caught glimpses of what could be at the height of magical ability, but the distance between the novice he was and master he could be was vast and now he understood more about what lay between them.

After a few hours of study, Edmure knocked on the door to tell him it was time to join his brother for dinner. He considered leaning into his brother’s perception of him by claiming he was too ill to dine, but he resisted the urge. The idea of giving that impression was more distasteful than actually eating dinner with the man.

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Edmure led him through the officer’s quarters and out to a separate building that seemed to be exclusive to his brother. He noticed a distinct air of relaxation around the mine now that Vaughn was no longer watching over everything, though perhaps that was merely a result of everyone ceasing their work for the night.

His brother’s quarters weren’t anything opulent. In fact, it seemed very clear that his brother was eschewing any opulence as much as possible. The furnishings were plain and without decoration, and the walls bare and unpainted. That said, he still had a steward attending him and a personal cook.

Vaughn was still wearing his uniform. It was buttoned up to his throat and were they not sitting at a dinner table together Solomon would have assumed he was still on duty. All of the other officers, from those on the Arabella to those at the waystation, had all at least loosened their collars and removed their coats when they could.

A glass of wine was poured for each of them and they each took a moment to have a sip.

“How was everyone when you passed through the estate?” asked Vaughn.

“They seemed well,” he answered. “Chorde has assumed control of the household well and mother seems to have moved on from the worst of her grieving. Bernice is as she has been.”

Vaughn frowned. “I know you’ve asked that I speak to general Clyturn regarding their engagement in the past. I hope this is not angling for you to do so again. He is my superior officer and the matter isn’t of as much importance as what is happening here.”

Solomon had another sip of his wine, wondering if his brother would be able to dodge the glass if he threw it. Chorde, Vaughn, and their sister Theodosia had the most incredible ability to justify not doing something to help others, and it always oh so coincidentally aligned with what they wanted for themselves. At least Jude didn’t bother with justifications, he simply hated without pretense.

“I had no intention of bringing that up, Vaughn. I’m very aware of your stance on the matter.” He smiled. “Besides. It’s no longer an issue.”

Vaughn’s brow creased.

“What do you mean?”

“I already spoke with him. I feel there’s a good chance he’ll break things off, though I’ll know for sure when I pass back through.”

Vaughn’s eye twitched.

“The man can be a valuable ally to house Morrow. He already has been in many ways. You have no right to bring such things to him without discussion.”

Solomon set his glass down to avoid temptation. He understood the implication. Vaughn had likely benefited from his connection to the general handsomely and had intended to continue reaping those rewards.

“Were you aware of his dalliances with the locals?” asked Solomon, the steward pouring his wine nearly spilling some as he asked the question.

Vaughn’s eyes narrowed.

“Matters of the flesh are meaningless here. Men must do what they need to do in order to stay focused on the mission.”

“Even if it dishonors your sister?”

“A man spilling his seed discreetly away from his betrothed or even his wife doesn’t dishonor her,” he answered with a wave of his hand.

“Should I anticipate an orcish bastard rounding a corner any moment then?” Solomon asked.

Vaughn stood up, his legs hitting the table and causing it to shake.

Solomon gathered that his brother expected him to flinch as he would have as a child. Unfortunately Vaughn was much less intimidating than forest gods, mer, and raging wargs.

Vaughn sat back down after a moment, pretending as if he was only straightening his uniform.

“Your tongue has grown quite a bit sharper Solomon. You’re reminding me a bit of our sister Theo, but a bit more feminine.”

Solomon didn’t take the bait. It was just a weak attempt by Vaughn to feel as if he was in control again. Instead he sipped his wine.

When the food arrived, they ate in silence for several minutes until Vaughn spoke again.

“The men you travelled here with. What did you think of them?” he asked.

Solomon finished chewing.

“They seemed very competent and capable. I watched them ably fight off an orcish raid and they handled themselves very well in the jungle despite the extreme amount of stress they were under.”

He nodded. “I’d heard about the increased activity from the mongrel gods.”

Solomon nodded. “I was particularly impressed by the Union auxiliaries. They seemed to have things very well in hand.”

Vaughn scoffed. “The least they could be is competent. We wouldn’t be here were it not for them.”

Solomon nodded. Drakthiss would be in Manacht no matter what, but they certainly wouldn’t be as far in as the badlands at this particular mine were it not for the Union’s desire for manarite.

Just as they slipped back into an empty silence, Solomon heard a rapid popping sound. Before he was certain of what was going on Vaughn stood quickly from the head of the table and started moving toward the door, a sergeant already at the door to meet him.

“Sir, we’re under attack.”