Inside the tent of Lancelot, the air slled faintly of disinfectant and so kind of... aromatic incense mixing into it. As for what it was, he couldn't tell, but it was sothing that Jila insisted on, saying that it worked wonders on the mind, allowing him to relax while sleeping. Did it actually work? He couldn't tell, but he was growing a bit frustrated... He wanted to walk around again, even if it hurt a little. Mikan already told him he was fine... Jila was only making it more serious in her head than it really was. Thinking about it, he began to stretch his arms above his head with a groan, ignoring the way Jila snapped her head around like a hound catching a scent, noticing he was about to get up... no, he was halfway up already.
“Stop that!” she scolded him, rushing over with the intensity of a drill sergeant, “You’ll strain the muscles again! Sit. Down.”
“I’m already healed,” he replied, his tone becoming exasperated, “Mom Mikan said the torn muscles I got are already nding... I’ve also been cleared for light duty. You are acting as if I were crippled!”
“‘Light duty ans breathing and blinking,” Jila snapped at him again as she pressed on his body until he was sitting again, then grabbed a blanket and fussed with it until it covered him. "Recovery first! If you force your injury, it can beco worse, and you may develop sothing... bad. Then not even Mikki's magic will heal you!"
"You are already calling my fourth mother Mikki? Geez..." Lancelot stared at her, then stuck his feet out under the blanket, “It’s not cold.”
“You could still catch a chill, and I am allowed to call her that.”
“Mom?"
"Yes, Yuri said it's fine for family mbers," Jila nodded proudly.
"Anyway, I’m indoors. It's hot. You don't need to bundle up like a newborn.”
"Hmph!" She crossed her arms, asuring him, “If you want to go out, I’d have to carry you myself. That way you wouldn’t have the chance to do sothing stupid...”
"Please no." Lancelot groaned again, imagining the scene where Jila, who only ca up to his chest on her tiptoes, was lugging him around like a sack of potatoes... That was enough to make Lancelot pinch the bridge of his nose. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I’m not joking,” she muttered, adjusting the blanket again for no reason.
It would have been frustrating if not for the earnestness in her eyes, making his gaze soften imdiately. She wasn’t mocking him... she was dead serious. He was about to say sothing when a knock at the tent’s fra drew both their eyes, and they watched as Arthur pushed the flap aside and ducked in, with Leyla leaning lightly on his arm.
“I told you we didn’t have to co right away,” Arthur murmured to her, though there was no irritation in his tone. "Look at them, they were about to do sothing shocking."
"Hoy!" Lancelot snorted, hearing him, while Jila just shook her head.
"He is too injured for that!"
"Hoy!" Lancelot repeated himself, only this ti, he was looking at Jila, while Leyla was in the middle of answering her brother.
“You think I’d stay in bed while Lancy’s sitting here alone?” Speaking, Leyla’s face was still pale, her steps a bit wobbly, hence the need for Arthur to support her.
"Hoy!" Jila snapped this ti, looking at the twins in protest. Alone? She would never leave Lancy alone!
Without answering, Arthur guided Leyla forward anyway, staying close enough to catch her if her knees wobbled again. He looked healthier himself, more at ease than he had been since the battle, and it showed. Sothing in his expression had shifted in the past few days, and after his talk with his father, Leyla could finally connect with him once again.
“Leyla, co, sit,” Lancelot said, scrambling to his feet as the blanket fell to the ground, and Jila squawked indignantly, but he ignored her. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“I’ll decide that for myself.” She smiled faintly as she wrapped her arms around him. He bent to hug her back before finally making her sit down on his bed.
"Done?" Jila asked, watching them hug and then make Leyla sit before she marched forward and shoved Lancelot back onto the cot, too, with surprising force, making him sit next to his sister. “Stop moving around!”
“Jila—”
“No! Sit. You’ve been through enough.” She planted her fists on her hips, glaring at him like a guardian spirit. "I'll do everything. I am not going to let my hubby beco a cripple because he can't sit on his bum!"
"Heh," Arthur leaned against a supporting post, his arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “If she were any taller, you’d already be in a bridal carry, little brother. You have chosen well.”
"Please," Lancelot groaned, “Don’t encourage her.”
Leyla laughed softly, without even coughing, which was a clear improvent on her part. Just seeing her brothers banter again, seeing Arthur back to his usual self, seed to give her the strength she hadn’t found in dicine. With her mind relaxing again, she was also recovering faster.
“There’s sothing we need to discuss,” Arthur said after their banter ca to an end. Imdiately, upon hearing his tone, the air thickened, the playful mood disappearing, and without realizing why, Jila stiffened, sensing sothing... bad. Seeing her expression, Arthur didn’t waste any ti. “The Khan has disappeared, and right now, his troops are... Leaderless." Then his eyes moved onto Jila, "And everyone saw you wield the Gauntlets. By now, everyone knows what happened.”
Slowly, Lancelot’s smile faded, and Leyla’s brows knit together as both of them turned toward Jila.
"And?" She flushed, throwing her hands up, getting defensive and visibly annoyed, “Don’t start! I don’t want them. I had already given it to you!”
“And my Father didn't take it... You don’t get to want or not want, Jila.” Arthur pressed, suddenly much more aware of his own role and possible destiny. “The Gauntlets chose you, that's a fact. Many Khulmani soldiers in the field saw it, and now everyone knows it. There is no chance for stopping the rumors when visible facts are there to back it up!”
“I don’t care!” Jila snapped, springing to her feet, and her voice cracked with vehence, but her hands were trembling beside her, “I have already forfeited my Khulmani ties the day I beca an Avalonian, no? No?! I’m Avalonian now. The Khan, who had the nerve to call himself my father, can rot for all I care. The only thing he did for ever was that I ca out from his DICK!”
"Jila..." Lancelot reached out, and although she first wanted to swipe his hand away, she held back her reflex, allowing him to pull her into his lap.
“That may be true for you,” Leyla said softly, “but it isn’t true for the Khulmani people... They won’t care... They all see it as destiny.”
"Hmph!" Jila’s jaw tightened as she pressed her lips together, “Destiny? Not mine, that's for sure. I am very much more like the Avalonian approach, to make your own. Or... is that a lie?”
"No, it isn't," Lancelot leaned forward, wincing as his still-healing muscles protested, proving that Jila was indeed right in opposing him from doing too many excess movents, “Look… the Gauntlets didn’t just appear from nowhere. They manifested around your machine, growing to match your fra. Whether you want it or not, it ans sothing.”
“I refuse.” She crossed her arms, glaring at the twins, then at Lancelot, “I won’t lead Khulman, I won’t wear their relic, I’m not their heir. Period. Find soone else. Don't I have brothers or sothing like that? That my 'dad' cultivated for decades? What about them?”
"That's the other issue," Arthur exchanged a look with his siblings. "We are on the precipice of a national collapse... and we cannot have that. Not now, not here! If we do nothing, the Khulmani troops will descend into chaos. So will claim you as a leader... Others will reject you. The fractures will widen, and Avalon will be dragged into the ss, for sure.”
"Jila..." Leyla’s voice was quiet, trying to be comforting, “The Gauntlets chose you. That can’t be undone... But maybe you don’t have to bear it alone.”
"What do you... an?" Jila looked up at her.
“Your sisters,” Leyla continued. “Rashira, Seltana, Tarsine, yli. The five of you must decide together before anyone else starts making declarations... Before soone else makes the decision for you. We can't interfere with it, or people will accuse us of foul play. But, if you five co together, make a decision and announce it to the people, your people, they will accept it. At the mont, they think you are the 100th chosen of the bloodline.”
"Fuuuuck..." Jila swallowed hard, cursing, hating the fact that the Gauntlets ca to her. But then again... she saved Lancelot because of them, so she couldn't be angry about it. “I don’t…” She faltered. “I don’t want to lead anybody. And not even so oversized mittens can make !”
“No one’s asking you to,” Arthur said firmly. “But you can’t pretend this didn’t happen. The Gauntlets chose you, and that ans you must choose what happens next. And after you made that public... Then we can step in.”
"..." After a very long pause, finally, Jila exhaled, letting out all her frustrations, “…Fine. I’ll speak with my sisters... But don’t expect to sit on a throne. I’ll never do it, not when I can sit right in the lap of my Lancy.”
"Heh!" Arthur nodded with a grin, while Lancelot hugged her from behind, patting her head.
“Choosing your destiny,” Leyla said, taking and gently holding Jila's hand, “is indeed true for everyone. However, we must acknowledge our roles, even if we decide it is not for us, and look for a new one. Others who believe in us have the right to know why we make our decisions, especially if they affect them.” She continued, glancing at Arthur for a very brief mont.
"Plus," Arthur added after his gaze broke with his twin, glancing back at Jila, "I am heading out with Galahad and Princess Fila to find your missing... Progenitor. If we find him... things may get... easier."
...
....
......
The canvas flap of the infirmary tent was rolled up to let the breeze in, allowing the air to be naturally cleaned of the slls gathering within. Dozens of cots lay inside, about half of them empty, as the worst cases had already been treated and transferred elsewhere or were beyond help and had received their final sendoff. Only those soldiers remained now who were brought back from the brink of death, finally stabilized enough to make sure they would live.
At that mont, moving along with the Gethian priests was yli. Her hair was pulled back, wisps sticking to her cheeks with sweat as she was working just as hard as when she was taking care of birds back ho.
“Keep the pressure... yes, like that. Good, now breathe in, please. Match my rhythm.” Her voice was still soft, but much steadier than ever before, as she guided the Khulmani soldier on the cot while channeling pale golden light into the gash across his chest, finally closing an injury that was in the works for two days, to allow the body to recover at every step. It was sothing that he learned from Morgan and Mikan. Even if magic can nd the wounds... If the body doesn't get a chance to adapt, it will still injure or kill itself. What Mikan told her was that in the end, the mind decided if the injury was indeed gone or not... even if magic made sure it was.
"...." When she leaned back, exhausted, the soldier grabbed her wrist weakly, taking a deep breath, sothing he thought he would never be able to do ever again, “Thank you, Lady yli.”
"Ah..." She flushed imdiately, stamring, “N-no… just... yli is fine. Please...”
But the man only smiled faintly before drifting into a deep sleep, keeping the smile on his face. Around the tent, others called her na too, as he stopped to check on their injuries and finish the healing procedure to the best of her efforts. It was a strange feeling... And the fact that she was doing it alone was surprising to her as well. But she had to... There were so many injuries that people like her, who had the gift of magic and could cast healing spells, were just... not enough. Even if the true lady, Lady Mikan, could cast a spell that healed dozens at once... They still needed to always split up and work tirelessly to save as many lives as possible.
After an hour, finishing her rounds, the dusk air grew cooler as yli slipped through the entrance, watching the sky turn orange. She pressed her hands together, trying to chase away the faint tremble in her fingers, sothing she still had so issues with. Not as much as at the start... but still...
“Hold still.”
She startled at the voice and sudden touch, then relaxed when she saw Morgan, without asking, tugging her arm down and began wiping away the streaks of dried blood that stuck to her fingers with a wet towel.
“I told you to rest between sessions... You’re going to wear yourself into the ground,” Morgan murmured, pursing her lips, “Even the Gethian priests know when to stop.”
"But you don't..." yli ducked her head, embarrassed, “So... I… I couldn’t either. And Lady Mikan is right... We can't, not when they look at us like that. I... I finally could do sothing well.”
"No argunts here," Morgan chuckled, nodding as she wrung out the cloth and then brought it up gently to yli’s cheek, clearing a sar of smudge off her face. “You did do more than just sothing. Half the n in there would be dead without you! I told you that you just need so bravery, girl. Never go back to your shell, got it?”
"Hauh," yli’s lips trembled into a shy smile, “O-okay... I'll... try! But... Only because you taught .”
“Don't praise too much, because in the end I will believe I am as cool as you think I am!” Morgan giggled, though her voice had already carried quite the pride in it. Which... was deserved. "Stay still." She continued as she tilted yli’s chin up so she could finish cleaning her face.
"Um," yli’s gaze lingered on her ntor while she was acting like a mother cat, “Morgan… do you ever feel like you’re soone else when you use magic? Like… It’s not the shy little you anymore, but soone braver, stronger?”
"I was never the shy one, but I get it," She answered her, “You’re just more of who you already are. It's not becoming soone else, but becoming the true you.”
“There you are,” yli was about to speak again when a new voice arrived as Mikan turned around the corner, her gaze flicking first to yli, then to Morgan. “You’ve done good work here, both of you. We saved more lives than I could have ever done alone... Thank you.”
"Ah!" yli straightened automatically, brushing at her tunic, trying to fix her look, standing at attention as if she were a little ground soldier standing before her Empress, “I... I just helped where I could!”
“You saved lives,” Mikan corrected, smiling at her, gently stroking her hair, “Don’t diminish it. You did wonders, yli. I am so proud of you!”
" too," Jila appeared from behind Mikan, clearly not in a good mood, but she still made sure to encourage her sister. “But... I have bad news."
"What happened?" yli stiffened while asking.
"You heard that our glorious father decided to beco one with the shadows, yes?” She complained, watching yli nod, “We need to talk about that... You and the rest of the girls... Look… I wouldn’t drag you into this if I had any choice, but the darn Gauntlets showed up for , and now the whole damned camp thinks I’m the chosen queen of Khulman."
"You not?" yli asked, almost making Jila snap, but she managed to hold it together.
"No. I am not. So... I need you, yli. We need all of us, together, before this spirals out of control...”
"Um..." yli’s mouth opened, and the shy tremor was back in her voice. “I… I’m not good at things like that... Speaking... Leading... I only know how to heal. I... Do I need to co?”
“You know how to save people,” Morgan said firmly, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder, “And right now, all the injured Khulmani know you... So, your words will have a aning too, whatever you all decide to do next.”
"That is true," Mikan nodded in agreent, “Your presence matters more than you imagine. With you backing Jila, they’ll listen even better.”
“All right,” she whispered, feeling there was no chance to get out of it, “I’ll co.”
"Don't worry..." Jila smiled at her, "I know how it feels, not wanting to lead anybody, not to ntion a country... I won't put it on you. But... I need your help to avoid it myself as well. I don't want to be queen..."
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