Victor 8.50 - Changes

Enjoy today's chapter! I think some of you will get a kick out of it :)

-Plum

When Victor returned to the house, the sun was well up, and he could hear voices coming from the dining room. Peering in through the arched opening in the hallway that separated the room from the kitchen, he saw Valla sitting beside Lam, and across the table from them was Efanie. He looked further into the room, to the smaller table near the far windows, and, sure enough, there sat Cora, by herself, absently picking at a plate full of food. Part of Victor wanted to retreat, to face these people later and well after he’d had a chance to speak with Valla alone, but he forced himself to step into the room. “Hey, good to see you’re getting acquainted.”

Valla looked at him, arching a silver-teal eyebrow. “I’m sure you were going to introduce us, but I couldn’t sleep, and we ran into each other.”

Victor nodded and moved to sit down. He was still his natural size, so he selected one of the larger, Dar-sized chairs, which put him beside Efanie. He saw the food on everyone’s plates—bacon, eggs, grilled veggies, and thick hunks of buttery toast—and his stomach instantly began to grumble. Efanie chuckled and pushed her plate toward him; it was largely untouched. “I’m not all that hungry—too much going on, and my nerves are shot.” Hearing those words was like a splash of cold water to Victor, reminding him that he wasn’t the center of the universe, regardless of how it seemed most of the time.

“Yeah, I guess last night’s events kind of turned your world upside down, huh?”

Efanie nodded and gestured with her thumb toward Cora over by the windows. “Mine and Cora’s both. Still,” she nodded to Valla and Lam, “we’ve been treated very kindly here, and I think we’re both hopeful.”

Victor nodded, trying to show understanding, but, if he were totally honest with himself, glad Cora wasn’t at the same table. How would she feel sitting in the presence of the man who’d killed her father? It was enough to make him want to get up and leave. It wasn’t enough to stifle his appetite, however, so he covered his discomfort by stuffing a large hunk of buttered, honey-dipped bread into his mouth.

Valla nudged him under the table with her boot. “I was just telling Efanie how cruel life could be.” She lowered her voice and continued, “I spoke with Cora briefly, Victor. She told me that she understood that our friends’ lives were on the line and that her father made his living by fighting another man’s battles. A very mature outlook for a girl who’s just recently seen her twelfth birthday, don’t you think?”

Victor swallowed—too soon—and had to fight to clear his throat before speaking. Efanie took the opportunity to voice her opinion on the matter. “She doesn’t hate you, Sir Victor. She’s cross but more at life and circumstances—at her father—than at you. I think I was able to make her understand that you fought for a righteous cause.”

“Well—” Victor began to say, but it seemed Efanie wasn’t finished.

“I hope you know that I don’t expect you and your lady to be the girl’s new parents. Neither does she. If you’ll just give us a small allowance, enough to furnish a home and pay for a tutor, I think we’d be more than happy to move out from underfoot.”

She took a breath and might have continued, but Victor was through being steamrolled. He locked eyes with Efanie and shook his head. “I’ll be doing more than that. I’ve taken responsibility for her, and that means something to me.” He nodded to Valla. “I’d like us all to take a trip back to our homeworld. I have a sizable estate there, and I think it would be a good place for her to grow up.”

“Fanwath?” Valla’s eyes almost sparkled as she said the word, and Victor was reminded of all the times he’d stared into those orbs, lost in their colorful depths.

“Yeah.” Victor smiled, then turned back to Efanie. “It’s a lower-tier world than this, but the nation Valla and I helped to found is growing rapidly, and many opportunities abound. I have influential friends there who can see to Cora’s safety and education, so if you have something binding you to Sojourn—”

“N-no! No, Victor, I would be most pleased to visit your home. What was it?” She glanced at Valla. “Fanwath?”

Valla nodded. “That’s right. Victor is lord to quite an estate there, though we haven’t seen his manor yet. It was just breaking ground when we came to Sojourn. You see, we’d just conquered an invasion in what was considered untamed lands.”

“Ah.” Efanie nodded, then turned to Victor. “Are you certain it’s a good place for a young woman to come of age?”

“Yeah. As I said, it’s growing quickly, and I have people there I trust and think of as family. I think it would be good for Cora to be away from this city and the . . .” Victor trailed off, wanting to say, ‘memory of her father,’ but was too worried the girl could hear what they were talking about. With that in mind, he asked, “Would you talk to her about it?”

Lam cleared her throat and leaned forward, breaking her silence in a hushed voice, “I think you need to sit down with her, Victor. She must know that she wasn’t given over to a monster.”

Valla nodded and reached across the table to grasp Victor’s wrist. “I agree. As harsh as it may seem, this is her new reality. The longer you avoid confronting the facts, the longer she’ll build up whatever monstrous version of you is living in her head.” Victor looked at her, a little surprised by how pleasant and supportive she was being despite their last conversation. He supposed it had something to do with the seriousness of the situation—Cora was a young girl going through a hell of a lot more than a couple’s disagreement.

He glanced around the table, from Valla to Lam to Efanie, and quietly asked, “Now?”

Lam nodded, Valla squeezed his wrist again, and Efanie leaned close and whispered, “She understands your situation. Just be kind.”

With a sigh and grunt, Victor pushed himself away from his plate of food and stood. As he approached Cora, he cast Alter Self, straining to get the most out of the spell. When he sat across from her, she glanced up but then quickly back down at her food—hardly touched. To his horror, Victor found himself channeling every dopey adult he’d ever spoken to as a child. “You’ve got to eat to keep up your strength.”

She picked up a piece of potato and tucked it into her mouth. “As you say, milord.”

“Ah, forget I said that—pretty stupid.” Suddenly, Victor was stricken with the urge simply to be honest. “Look, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I think this whole situation sucks. I know I said that before, kind of, outside Volpuré’s estate, but it’s true. I understand you’re in a bad place right now. You’re probably mad, sad, and everything in between, right? You’ve got every right to be. I’m sorry about your dad, but you understand I was fighting for my life, for my friends’ lives, right?”

“I understand, milord.” She still hadn’t looked up, and all Victor could see of her face was her pale forehead beneath unruly, thick, curly brown hair.

Victor decided to try a different approach. “Do you like Sojourn? Do you have friends here?”

“I—” For the first time, she glanced up, and her chocolate eyes touched his for just a second before she looked back down. “I’ve spent most of my time at the Volpuré estate with my father. I don’t have friends.”

“Um, I know this is probably not a fun topic, but can you tell me a little about that? Why did your dad keep you so close? I know they told me he was your only family, but do you, um, know about your mom at all?” Her head shook from side to side, bouncing her thick curls, but she didn’t speak. “All right. Well, I have an idea I’d like to run by you: I have a lot of property on another world where some very good friends live. I’d like to take you there—get you away from this place. There are children who live on my lands and people who can look after you and give you the kind of attention you deserve. I think you’ll like it there.” She didn’t speak or look up, so Victor asked more bluntly, “What do you say?”

When she looked up this time, she stared into his eyes and didn’t look away. “Do I have a choice?”

“Um,” Victor frowned, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, he settled on what he’d want to hear if he were in her shoes. “I want you to come with me and see the place. I want you to meet some of the people who live there. After that, you can decide if you want to stay or come back to Sojourn.”

She glanced at the other, larger table. “Will Efanie come?”

Victor nodded. “Yeah. She’s eager to go; I don’t think she loves Sojourn.” Cora stared at him for a moment longer, and Victor saw much in the depths of those dark eyes, but she didn’t speak, only nodded, then turned back to her food, scooping up a large bite of scrambled eggs. Victor felt like he’d been dismissed, so he went with it. He stood and pushed his chair in. “When I said we’re going, I meant, like, today. Efanie will help you get ready.” With that, he walked back over to the large table.

“Well?” Lam asked.

“She’s open to the idea.” Victor looked from Efanie to Valla. “I want to leave today. I know it’s short notice, but Dar’s only given me a week, so I want to make the most of it.” They both inhaled and looked ready to ask him questions, but he turned to Lam. “I can probably afford it if you and the others want to come.”

“I think—” Lam stopped and frowned, shaking her head. “I think I’ll wait. I don’t want to return until I’ve regained more of my former strength. Edeya is with Trin, watching over Darren, but I’ll ask her what she thinks. I doubt Darren will wake in time to join you.”

Victor nodded, once again reminded that other people had important things going on and considerations of their own. “What level are you now?”

She grinned and thumped the table with her palm. “All of us are closing in on tier two. Say one thing about that deathtrap of a dungeon—it provided quite a growth opportunity.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. Tell Edeya we’ll be leaving in a couple of hours if she’s interested.”

Efanie pushed her chair back. “So soon?”

“Yeah. I was serious about wanting to get this going. I’ve got a lot I want to do and only a week to squeeze it all in.”

“Understood. I—” She glanced over at Cora. “I should take Cora into town for a little shopping. I have a few loose ends I’d like to tie up around here. Despite Bohn’s awful nature, there are many in the Volpuré household I’d like to part with on good terms. I think a few gifts and letters sent via courier should do the trick. Would it be all right if the two of us meet you at the World Hall?”

“Yeah.” Victor rubbed his chin while he thought. “I think I’m being unreasonable. Two hours isn’t enough time—meet us at the ticket counter at noon. Is that fair?”

“More than fair!” She stood and started toward Cora, but Valla cleared her throat.

“Wait, Efanie!” When the woman paused and turned back, Valla looked at Victor. “If she’s going to buy things for Cora to travel with, shouldn’t you give her some funds?”

“Oh, I—” Efanie started, but Victor laughed, shaking his head in chagrin.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll need to get used to this.” He hadn’t sorted the massive crates of beads in Loyle’s ring into more convenient containers, so he lifted out a sack from his previous stash. It held nearly ten thousand beads in value—most were double or triple-attuned. He handed it to Efanie. “That should do for now. I guess you can consider anything left over as a retainer; we can negotiate a contract for you when we get to Fanwath, all right?”

“That’s fair. Thank you, Sir—”

“Just Victor, Efanie.”

She smiled, then nodded and waved to the table, including Lam and Valla in the gesture. “See you soon.” As she strode toward Cora’s table, her voice became strident, “Up you get, young lady. We’ve much to do and little time in which to do it!”

Lam glanced at Victor and then Valla and pushed her chair back. “Why don’t you sit back down and finish Efanie’s breakfast, Victor? I’m going to go check in on Edeya and tell her what you said about returning to Fanwath.”

“Um, yeah. Not a bad idea.” Victor sat down again, well aware that Lam was trying to give him a chance to speak with Valla. It made him wonder if Valla had been venting, but he supposed he couldn’t blame her if she had been. As she left, Lam walked behind Valla. Catching Victor’s eye, she nodded and winked.

“About as subtle as a thunderak in a jewelry store,” Valla chuckled.

Victor shrugged. “She’s trying to help me out. Don’t you agree I could use it?”

Valla sighed. “Oh, Victor! I know I wasn’t exactly rational earlier, but you must admit that you don’t make it easy for me. I’ve spent some hours thinking and a bit of time chatting with Lam, and, honestly, I don’t know what to say other than that. I think I need more time to think about things. Don’t you?”

“I . . .” Victor frowned as he let his impulsive objection die on his tongue. Did he need more time to think? Was he sure about everything? Or, failing that, was he at least as sure as he used to be? He supposed the answer was no—there had been some changes in his feelings that bore further thought. “I guess some time to think would be nice.”

“Exactly! Some time away from Sojourn is exactly what we need. Some time away from all the high stakes, the life-or-death battles, the schemes, and future plots. Let’s make a promise—no talking about any of our . . . problems until the night before our scheduled return. I want to enjoy a small vacation with you and forget about all of our worries for a few days. Let’s give our minds and hearts time to breathe and think. Can you agree with that?”

Victor held his hand, palm up, across the table, and Valla eagerly took it in her slender, cool fingers. “Yeah, I can agree, Valla. Honestly, it sounds great.”

#

When Darren opened his eyes, he was swept away with almost nauseating disorientation. He saw wooden rafters overhead, but they seemed curved like he was looking at them through a fish-eye lens. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus, but then his world was blotted out by wood grains, splinters, and a nail head the size of a dinner plate. “Ungh,” he grunted, feeling even more queasy. He closed his eyes and, as the world faded to peaceful black, began to recall strange, vivid dreams of flying through clouds, basking in the cold air of the heights and the warmth of the sun. How long had he slept?

With the question came a surge of other memories—waves of monsters, Lam and Edeya and Trin, all fighting for their lives, an axe blade cleaving his clavicle and slicing deep into his chest, and worried whispers and the taste of something incomprehensibly sweet and good as it was stuffed into his mouth. He opened his eyes again, hoping to see one of his friends, but this time, instead of just the wooden ceiling, he saw a bird’s head. No, he corrected himself, an avian woman’s head. Black feathers adorned her crown, and a dark yellow beak sat beneath giant, yellow, and brown-banded irises that narrowed in contemplation as he continued to blink.

“Try to relax and let nature do its work. Your eyes are much stronger than they used to be, Darren. My name is Brimi, and I’m here because your friends were worried about you.”

“Worried?” Darren asked, but his voice was strange in his ears, and it sounded garbled, more like, “Ooried?”

“That’s right, love, you’ve been out for a few days. Try to lie still and take in everything I’ve got to say. It seems you ate a racial advancement cake, and it woke something up—a bloodline.”

“Oodline?” he asked, his voice rising toward a squawk as he tried to form the word with his strange-feeling mouth.

“An avian bloodline. That’s why I’m here. I can help you to figure out how to manage the things that have changed about you.”

“Aieeen?” Darren tried to say ‘avian,’ but, again, it sounded more like a squawk. His heart had begun to hammer, and despite Brimi’s protestations, he struggled to his feet, pleased that his arms, hands, and legs were responding normally. He looked around, frowning at the strange perspective. Was he taller than before? The avian woman held out her arms, trying to steady or restrain him; he couldn’t tell. She was much shorter than he, and as he looked around, his vision kept zooming in on every little detail.

He almost fell several times as he stumbled to his bathroom and finally managed to fight his way through the door to peer at himself in the mirror. “What the hell?” he cried, though, again, it came out like, “Aaah-kah-ell!” Darren had, indeed, changed. He was easily a foot taller than before, looming over the sink, stark naked, save for a pair of tight underwear. His body didn’t look all that different, but there were a few disturbing changes: his head was covered in lustrous brown, mottled feathers, his eyes were enormous, angular things like you might see on an eagle, the irises golden and beautiful, and his nose and mouth had been replaced by a long, hooked beak.

Darren, too stressed and, frankly, panicked to speak, turned to look at his back and saw faint lumps along his spine just beneath his shoulder blades. “No wings?” he tried to ask, too distracted to worry about what the words came out sounding like.

“You’ve just barely awoken your bloodline, but, as is usual when something like this occurs, the first changes are to your sensory organs—your eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. As you advance your bloodline . . .” She kept speaking, but Darren couldn’t hear her over the pounding of his heart, the roaring of his thoughts. He mentally called up his status sheet and scanned what he saw:

Status

Name: Darren Whitehorse

Race: Human - Base 5 - Thunderbird Bloodline

Class: Chaos Sorcerer - Advanced

Level: 18

Core: Wildarc Class - Base 2

Energy Affinity: Lightning 8, Chaos 7.4, Unattuned 6.1

Energy: 1445/1445

Strength: 6

Vitality: 72

Dexterity: 45

Agility: 5

Intelligence: 57

Will: 68

Points Available: 0

Titles & Feats: -

Skills:

System Language Integration - Not Upgradeable

Wildarc Cultivation Drill - Basic

Staff Mastery - Improved

Sense Chaos - Basic

Spells:

Arclight Wisp - Basic

Shocking Arms - Improved

Fractured Reality - Basic

Chaos Storm - Improved

“Ut thah uuuuck!” he screeched, clapping his hands to his head.

“Hush, Darren! Really!” Brimi scolded. “You should be thrilled. You realize that if you keep advancing your bloodline, you’ll be able to fly, yes? A predator avian, too! What handsome eyes you have! And those feathers! Goodness, but you’re going to be something, given time. Now, regarding your attempts at speaking—Darren, you must try to form the words further back in your throat. We intelligent avian species have a very advanced syrinx in our throats. It takes a little practice, but you’ll soon learn to enunciate properly . . .”

She continued to babble on, but Darren couldn’t focus on her. He was staring at the backs of his hands where fine, downy feathers seemed to have replaced the hair that used to grow there. He looked at the tips of his fingers and saw that his nails were dark black, pointed, and hard as iron. Frowning, he looked at his status sheet and, with enormous concentration, tried to form the word in the back of his throat, “Thunderbird.”