As it turned out, Agathe had sent him to Verq Bavas on the first day of the first month of summer in the year 252 of the Ecknathroq calendar. As she had promised, Quionne taught him many things in the following months. The most prestigious language of the Kingdom of Hooh, the dialect of the Verquva territory under Lord Marciel, which was, basically, a more standard variety of the language the villagers at Verq Bavas spoke, the whereabouts and identity of his capture target, detailed information on Brenda’s supposed suitor, and also a more comprehensive account on what military service would entail for him.
Albino wouldn’t spend sixteen years at Lord Marciel’s fortress. Few even spent a day there unless they earned glory on the battlefield or, allegedly, if rumors of their wife’s or lover’s beauty reached Lord Marciel’s ears. Anyway, the first and final three years were purely academic. The soldiers had to train and learn everything for the first three-year period, and only then were they deployed regularly. After ten years of service at varying forts, battlefields, and border cities, they returned to the academy for three more years, serving as instructors or other personnel. The village chief, whose name was Gordon, had excluded the academic years since the experience of spending time at Lord Marciel’s fortress was what stuck with people the most, for better (not) or worse (yes, definitely this one).
As for Albino’s capture target, she was a young pygraawyn (a type of rabbit folk that barely grew to three feet tall without counting the ears, and about four feet with them) child. She lived in Verq Lowtown, where Albino would join the academy in two to three years. She was one of many slaves from physically weaker races the humans used as assistants, a self-indulgent word for slave, serving some select elite troops.
“Why did Agathe send me to Verq Bavas, far from my target? And why when my target is still a child? She will not be an adult by the time I join, or even graduate from, the academy,” he told Quionne when she explained the young rabbit girl’s position.
The question made Quionne visibly uncomfortable. “Serasfee’s position… Ah, her name is Serasfee, by the way. Her position in this cycle is that of a scouting slave, but… she is dysfunctional.”
“Dysfunctional, how?”
“They- The soldiers there call her Tiny Tantrum. She… has a condition. An angry condition. They took her away from her parents, and they tried to whip it out of her, but… Well.”
Albino groaned. “Do you think they will allow me to choose a dysfunctional assistant?”
“…They usually don’t give assistant children to their soldiers. The problem with Serasfee is that her condition is met with frustration and contempt by her handlers before she is ever eligible for distribution. She… In all the cycles I investigated this Serasfee, she died before adulthood, sent to the battlefield for sport and as an object for wagers on how long she would survive. The workers there are ex-soldiers. They wouldn’t be given an assistant, so the only way to save her life is to be as exceptional a recruit as you alone can be and to convince them that you can tame this angry child and turn her into a valuable asset.”
Albino frowned. “Tame her… Slavery… Children on a battlefield… Cannot say I like it.”
“…I’m sorry this world isn’t less cruel.”
Albino rubbed her head. “This is nothing to be sorry about. There can be no beauty without ugliness to contrast with. If one side faded away, the remaining would turn stale and boring. Mortal worlds are exceptional precisely because light and darkness exist in every corner, ripe for observation. One needs to find joy with the hand they are dealt… I hope we can show this Serasfee how bright life can shine. How can we guarantee her survival until I get there?”
“I sent one of the Mothers to watch over her. She can’t act too openly, but it buys us time until you arrive at the academy without forcing anyone into making a big play.”
“Yeah,” Albino said. “Mortal worlds of Queensland’s age hate big plays that go too far against the established mother timeline and its tolerated branches.”
Brenda spent at least a few hours of every day around Albino. The scrutiny in her eyes had become a staple, and deep wrinkles formed where she frowned whenever Albino committed another curiosity under Lancel’s pseudonym. After a month of this, Albino closed his eyes at midnight and woke up in a place with many more dimensions. In one moment, his consciousness and being expanded back to what it had once been, and Agathe materialized before him.
She looked from left to right, examined her limbs, and took a slow, drawn-out breath. The fascination on her face was contagious. “I must admit that I rarely descend, even to closed-off spaces such as this… Do I look weird in my mortal form? I hope not…”
“Still beautiful. Still stunning. Still amazing,” Albino praised genuinely. The mark on his back burned as though happy to be back in its creator’s presence. Perhaps that joy further heightened his emotions, compelling him to passionately embrace and kiss the deity. Only for a few hours, though.
“More,” Agathe moaned, leaning into him. “More!”
“Now, now. We have… wow, one Queensland-calamity? Is this the extent of your patience?” A calamity was what the people of the Ecknathroq Kingdom, of which Verq Bavas and Lord Marciel’s territory were a part, called a period of 270 Queensland-years. Once a particular faction ruled the lands for one calamity, or so their histories, according to Quionne, suggested, they were purged. The best part? It was the year 252 since the Ecknathroq Kingdom’s establishment. It would be time for change soon, and Albino would be on the frontlines, struggling for survival. He knew how long this subspace would last because his sight was no longer limited to just physical dimensions.
“Shut up! I thought it was on theme, and one calamity passes in the blink of an eye…” She sighed, snapped her fingers, and a magnificent bed materialized beside them. “I saw what you do with Quionne at night. I-I had planned on keeping myself in the dark. I really did! I wanted you to explain your adventures in your own… alluring voice… but I failed! Only once, and only for this, but perhaps this is for the best!” She pushed Albino to a sitting position and straddled his lap. A dreamy smile pulled her lips apart. “Would you please tell me about your month? We have some limited time for skinship afterward.”
“Only I would understand your pain, Agathe. I am already looking forward to Quionne’s face when I tell her how much time I spend with you every month compared to everyone else… Let us count it out. Sixteen months in a year, and two-hundred-and-seventy years in one calamity… An astounding 4.320 times as much! Though I get it. To you, it might as well be a fraction of a quectosecond. Fractions upon fractions upon fractions, actually. I shall make a case for you.”
“…Thank you. You were right. I do not want my children to hate me, after all. We are supposed to become… family. Hehe. The thought is quite uplifting, is it not?”
“Definitely. Did you plan on this engagement thing with Brenda? Or was that a ripe old coincidence, too?”
“Oh, that situation. Have you met Warren yet?”
“Spoilers, girl.”
“Not for long. You will see it soon, and you will probably love it. Give Brenda some trouble for it, but do not abandon her… They are all victims of greater schemes and machinations.”
“Lord Marciel?” Albino asked. He was intrigued about the man who seemed to have such a stranglehold over his citizens.
“Exactly. Have you become engaged, then?”
“We are on trial. I told Brenda I know her motives.”
Agathe giggled. Such a heavenly sound. “Of course you did. No secrets in love, even before the seed has taken root.”
“Plenty of secrets, actually. She is meant to decide whether I am worthy of her loveless love until the end of summer, before the first autumn day of the first autumn month. If she does, I will tell her everything. If she does not choose me by then, my focus lies on caring for the injured cawdelli and preparing for my mandatory time as a soldier. The returnees of Verq Bavas take turns sparring with me and giving me pointers. Gordon still has a few more years, judging by how he moves at his age. Truly impressive.”
Agathe wasn’t listening. She was caught up on a throwaway comment from three sentences ago. “An injured cawdelli? Lancel was no veterinarian character, was he?”
“Nothing to say on my training?”
“I would like to see you in sweaty action- Wait, how can they give you pointers? You are so much better than them!”
“Not in that body,” Albino said, flexing his hand. Yes. This was the body he felt most at home in. “Something about recalibrating between different physical bodies with varying physical functionalities and deviating strengths. It was a common thing when my sister trained me. Got better as the cycles kept spinning on a single world.”
“…Will you be alright?” She had been worried, but Agathe had always comforted herself with the knowledge of Albino’s pure skill in everything. Even if he was reduced to a mortal vessel, he would undoubtedly dominate anything and anyone? The suggestion that this could be untrue unsettled her deeply.
“I still have two and a half years, Agathe,” Albino assured her. “From what Gordon and Quionne told me, Lord Marciel rarely sends his recruiters to the mountains in autumn, winter, or spring. The airline between the academy in Verq Lowtown and Verq Bavas is not that long, but they have to take a treacherous path along creeks and up mountains. Slipping on ice or falling through the spreading glaciers would probably cost him more men than he would gain. The mandatory service is more about time spent in service than a specific starting age, so nobody really cares. This gives me more time to build a family before being occupied for sixteen years.”
“Sixteen years away from your family?” Agahte gave him a sly smile. “Sounds like a commonality you will not conform to.”
“Already working on it. I want to get fast enough at flying with my wind elementalism to make the journey every night… or every other night, at least. Progress is slow, but that is to be expected. One does not simply run a marathon after one day of training. If I train diligently until my recruitment and invest my life-fire into traveling speed as I have been, everything should work itself out. I will not take Brenda to potentially be threatened by that perverted Lord Marciel.”
“Haha. You sound sure Brenda will accept?”
Albino shrugged. “There is no certainty here, but I am getting used to Brenda’s presence. Rather than a lover, she feels like a banter buddy. Less than a friend, but more than a mere acquaintance. That is about the most you can expect after a mere month.”
“Banter buddy, you say? What title would you give Quionne?”
“Devoted Albino cultist. Perhaps too devoted.”
Agathe snickered at Albino’s poor attempt to hide how pleased he was with the Albi-Onna and her passion for him… every part of him. Agathe couldn’t help feeling jealous. “What about me?”
“The needy girlfriend.”
“O-oh…” Agathe had heard him speak the word needy, but her title was the only one hinting at a deeper relationship. That overrode any depression she might have felt. “Thank you for indulging me.”
“Always a pleasure.”
More hugging and rolling around on the bed and affectionate petting took place during the next 270 years, interspersed at times with random stories from Albino’s first month in Verq Bavas. Agathe listened attentively every time, glad to have refrained from watching the proceedings herself. But even his stories couldn’t keep up with the joy of their make-out sessions. Just being with him like this was all she needed… and this perfect little bubble of time popped all too soon.
“I knew I should have given myself more time,” she whined, clinging to Albino as though that would keep them connected after the pocket dimension expired. Spoiler alert: It didn’t work like that.
“There is always next month,” Albino said, trying and failing to appease her. “Compared to 270 years, what is a single month?”
“Everything! Everything takes an eternity without you!”
“You will be fine,” he assured her. “You have been fine for much longer before I came by. How many cycles has Queensland gone through without me, I wonder. Care to remind me?”
“…I could have started reciting the number when this pocket dimension was created, and I would not be finished now.”
“Exactly. You will be fine. To tell you more fun stories, I must first experience more fun things on the way. We could still talk about Cormali, but we can probably afford to delay the story of that gem of a creature to our next meeting.”
Agathe perked up in his arms, scrunching her nose. Cormali? Had there been a Cormali near him when she last looked? There… had not. Not near enough for her to be with Albino already. One of the more powerful Cormalis of the world could have theoretically traveled there. It was possible, but why would they?
Albino found great amusement in her confusion. “Cormali is what we named the injured cawdelli. We got sidetracked after I first mentioned her, remember?”
“Right, you did mention it… And you refused to talk about it right away!”
“Because you ignored the grueling training I did to prepare for military service! You do not care about my safety at all! Sniffle, sniffle.”
“Even I will not fall for you saying ‘sniffle, sniffle’ out loud.” Agathe glanced at the fading fabric of her pocket dimension. A few more minutes, perhaps a median. “Will the cawdelli survive?”
“The village agreed to let me nurse her back to health, and if I succeed, they consented to me keeping her. Nemira was eager for a butchering, but I did not want to hear it. Cormali is visibly getting better. I encased her broken legs in casts and urged her in the language of the winds to stay put and let me deal with the rest. Once, I had to resort to the language of the Albiverse because the pain got to her. Been massaging the fractures back into place every day since. They get messed up since I allow her to stumble back to her herd for an hour every morning. Otherwise, she sleeps next to the shack. Cawdellis are surprisingly affectionate once you spend some time together like this. Smart creatures.”
“Intelligent, but no masters of recovery. Quite the opposite since they are too durable to be injured… Well, most of the time.”
Albino agreed. “Quionne has been a great help with that. While I still struggle to float an inch above ground for a few seconds, she can fly all over the place and procure the herbs and medication we need to speed up the healing process. Even Brenda has begun warming up to Cormali. They fell asleep together yesterday when the sun bathed the mountains in its warm embrace for once. The first summer warmth and, with it, an affectionate slumber. Brenda was quite embarrassed about it afterward, of course. Some Miss Prim-and-Proper she is.”
And the second summer month brought more of the same. Albino took Cormali for a walk in the morning, always accompanied by Brenda. They separated at noon. Brenda looked after the children or helped around Verq Bavas, and Albino trained with one or two returnee soldiers. Sometimes, it took two trainers because the three teens (Tom in particular) thought it looked amusing on some days. The youngsters were too much to handle for one returnee soldier. It is said that childraising is a battlefield all on its own, but surviving a real war doesn’t prepare you for it – the vice-versa also being true.
The afternoon and evening brought Brenda and Albino back together. Their schedule was less uniform during this time, mostly seeing them back with the cawdellis or venturing into the pine tree forest for wood, herbs, berries, or something else. Before dinner, which Brenda and her parents insisted he should join them for, Albino washed up down-current of the mountain stream. He would have preferred to burn the dirt away with fire (as his original people once did) or keep naturally recycling it into energy as he had done the first few days. The only problem was Brenda’s watchful pair of eyes. She had noticed, so he had stopped. She had a decent mind, that one.
Every night, Albino and Quionne trained his wind elementalism or prepared Cormali’s treatments. Her bones would take months to heal, but she was making progress. Agathe enjoyed his tales when they reconvened, so the third summer month began.
Greetings and salutations! You have earned my eternal gratitude for reading this humble mortal’s story. If you enjoyed yourself, I will have done my job well. If not… well, there is always room for improvement.
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