The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 506 - The Changes We Make, The Time We Don’t Take

Qatrand gil Yecine walked among her students as they attempted to mirror the forms she’d demonstrated earlier. Black hair tied back in a simple tail at the base of her neck, it had finally grown back to the size her wife would have seen it last. But not all the growth was so even on the training field.

Many of the militia still had too much reliance on upper body strength, not enough engagement from the core and legs. She’d learned these sort of lessons young with the Yecine and it seemed much harder to convince adults to discard what had been inferiorly drilled into muscle memory compare to countless hours as a child being watched, tapped when wrong, and sometimes nodded at when right.

’Sometimes. I’m trying to do better than those who taught me about expressing when people improve. Though I have to be careful not to clap in my pride like I do with Onya. That... would just be insulting, I think?’

A familiar spiritual presence poked at her tendrils and drew her attention toward the arena entrance. Navuill er Yecine stood at the edge of the training ground, wearing the dark formal suit that marked him for her birth family as much as the heavy blade on his back. Having gained the heirship right after a lot of hem and haw by the council of elders, in the months after Qatrand’s departure from the family, he was now considered a young elder.

It still put him at the bottom of their senior hierarchy, but the position was a lot higher than many of the family - and came with a lot more leeway on some matters. Which is why, standing beside him a half-step behind, was a woman in formal attire of silky black and gold trim. Nothing about that choice of combination was unusual, except the style had grown quite popular among the wives after the talk of Elua er Goltbred wearing it so proudly while cheering her ’husband’ at the competition.

The young brunette had remained something of an idol to the population of women in the Yecine household, after her highly... *successful* bridal ritual. Quite a few had taken to practicing cultivation again in earnest, despite not having access to the rich foods, training grounds, or cultivation rooms like their husbands. A handful were actually aided by those same men in their resumed quest, though the reason for many of those family elders was only to see if they could be pushed to allow another child out of the Birth Limit.

Rezzue was one rare member of the latter crowd whose partner held no great ulterior motive. She knew that the younger girl’s unfettered relationship with the new Warden Patrician - the then young heir of this Descent generation their family - had been what helped push her own husband into seeking a more true and real relationship. It had given the cultivator with hair straight, flat and red... now often combed at night by Navuill when he was around to do so... the courage to grow in ways she thought she’d given up.

The most unusual part of her today was therefore the black case held in hands kept primly at her abdomen. One Qat knew was designed specifically to hold a particular style of mid-size, composite recurve bow produced by one of the continent’s most eccentrically expensive artisans. She knew this because Helace, the young Hero’s archer companion from the Ironclad Order, had specifically tried to suggest it as a birthday gift to prepare for the swordswoman’s ’noncombatant’ wife.

Any other time, she might have taken a moment to appreciate how much her cousin had spent on his spouse. However... over on the side of Navuill, two boys in their traveling cloaks bore the hard to mistake cut and detail of Yecine tailoring to them. Black hair furthered the affluent family’s trademark look, along with steely gray eyes that watched the training. With critique... and with interest.

Her half-brothers joined in the training at the rear and it took a lot for Qatrand to not stop immediately. Ajoreal moved first, seeing the racks of blunt blades on offer. Kaland worried just a bit too much about what others might think if more rumors spread - or what their sister was going to say if they just up and did as they pleased. Yet he still followed suit and picked out one of his own so as not to leave the younger brother alone.

She’d been sent a letter from her cousin that he would be coming and that there was something important to discuss. But had held none of the details of who would be arriving with him. Somehow, in her *heart*, she felt a ’headache’ growing. Especially when she could pick out their specific new attention locking with her Primalist Cynosure.

"Adjutant Hoolov."

The man straightened from where he’d been correcting a mortal volunteer’s grip. He’d been taking on a lot of private training over the months, trying to aim for being able to manage a potential transition into an instructor for the territory’s Youth Guild in the future. He felt like he needed something more to do, especially when Leysah was around and taking over half of his workload.

"Warden Patrician?"

"Lead the last rotations. Focus on the back leg floating weight problem. Most of them are still leaning too far forward on the downswing and it’s losing them their recovery potential."

"Gladly. Thank you for the opportunity."

She turned fully toward the new visitors, noting how Navuill’s posture relaxed the moment their eyes finally met and he saw no hostility. It was hardly the bearing of a Yecine elder approaching a territorial leader... or even the way members of that family tended to gruffly interact with each other. A loose stance for the Empath was one his wife rarely saw outside of their bedchamber, for she had not actually seen him greeting a trusted friend and rival all that much.

"Cousin. I hope the timing wasn’t too disruptive. Your reply suggested this week would work."

"It does. You could have come even if I was busy. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have questions. Lots of them."

Pigeon blues shifted out to the boys on the field, then to the woman whose green-yellow eyes remained a bit lowered. His letter had not mentioned bringing guests, let alone this sort. Both of her siblings were now in the Youth Guild at her once-home city - and therefore did occasionally step out of the estate for that - but traveling by train out this far for almost anything before they were old enough for Guild work was very unorthodox. The competition had been a special exception of an occasion and not really a precedent to be followed outside of the Descent.

’The same is true of a wife of an active duty cultivator... who would often remain cloistered. It’s hard to imagine El ever agreeing to that. Or, it used to be, before she sequestered herself in such a near-but-far place.’.

Qatrand watched the two boys as they broke off from Hoolov’s repetitions and began the basic heavy blade kata of her family at their own speed. Her spiritual sense extended around them, just enough to read an estimate of their cultivation. Something that some on the continent could do easily enough with the right practice, but who few could do at such range or without alerting the senses of the target with her Intent.

Physical Enchanters, both of them, but that was all. Their other energy types felt underdeveloped in the way that spoke partly to their young ages... and partly to the limited instruction to rectify the gap, rather than any particular surfeit of talent or ambition.

’As I would have been, without my mint-drop’s help.’

She could see Anper’s influence in their technique and form just like it had been in hers at that age. The emphasis on the overcommitment to each strike for the sake of power to overwhelm was something she felt the man had internalized much too well, considering how deeply he pushed his overcommitted choices in other aspects of his life. Yet she could also see places where they’d started to question those teachings, small developing hesitations to some ’wrong’ parts that proved they had some level of instinct.

Overall, the two had forms solid enough to build on...

But Kaland’s stance was particularly too rigid - the same problem she’d struggled with at that age before Elua had gently and *persistently* corrected it with additional defensive mindedness over the time spent training together before joining the Order. Combined with his general vibe of feeling like he lacked a lot of heart in his swings, she was sure that he was not a ’happy’ child in the same way she did not used to be.

’Just a child who was told what to want with their life, but only wanted something else. Respect. Praise. Likely from our father more than any other.’

Ajoreal meanwhile was seen to rush his transitions, eager to reach the next position in a flash rather than letting each movement flow naturally into the subsequent one. But that attempt at speed also was lent to help keep his stance recoveries cleaner, if not perfect. As if he understood that quick to move in and at the right moment quick to escape out was his preferred form of swordplay - a very strange mindset for a heavy weapon user.

When the traditional kata completed, both boys turned to face her with breathing only slightly elevated. Thanks to years of doing *at least* this much every morning. If she was being honest, she felt conflicted at their presence. In some ways she was happy to see them, but in others it felt wrong.

During the competition, she had felt like there was a chance of inserting herself in their lives... even if it was first through that request to let Corde teach them as well as herself. However, things had changed since then in plenty enough ways that she was no longer so sure how to step around them, let alone talk. Especially since she had not seen them once since her father went on house arrest.

A bit of guilt also remained that she took the instruction from the Frozen Duskblade in this territory and ignored that promise she’d argued for from the council of her family’s elders. It felt like she had assured there would be a big gift brought to her siblings, only to be somewhat *empty handed* when encountering them. Corde had been gone for quite some time after their duel.

’I was not a part of the family anymore. Our father made that happen. It wasn’t their fault. I don’t think it was mine either. But we are all punished.’

Qat couldn’t smile as brightly as she could toward her small and energetic sister-in-law, but she could raise her hand and wave at them with a nod. She didn’t hold any hate or distaste for them at all. The two of them as well, couldn’t let themselves seem super enthusiastic - despite feeling that way - and nodded forward at her before putting up the practice blades much more calmly than they felt from being acknowledged.

Rezzue watched all this with a bit of deep evaluation... because she’d heard them both speak quietly with nothing but intense praise for their elder sister. When they thought no one was listening, like when Navuill had went to talk to some other Ironclad Order member who happened to be sharing the train, they would gush as strongly about the Gravity wielder’s achievements as she herself did at tea time. Where she would brag to the other wives over her husband’s private sweetness!

"Lets head to my office. We should discuss what it was that brought you all here. I expect it is important."

A low and confident tone was heard by the visitors before Qatrand turned and began to walk away. The black of her hair felt heavier, and even more necessary, now that the brief distraction of training duty was over. Because former family was a battlefield all on its own. One in which she’d been too busy to develop the right tactics for.

And she was sure ignoring them completely or antagonizing them intentionally, as her mint-drop suggested in the first letters after hearing of her emancipation... was not the correct move.