Kasiya looked different when it wasn’t buried under a once-in-a-lifetime blizzard.
It was still chilly here, but more “pleasantly crisp” than “we have Hoth at home”. Autumn colours were still visible as the Keibatsu family vehicle(s) arrived at the spaceport—not at the capital of Port Kasiya, but the secondary spaceport of Mytilene.
Mytilene was one part agricultural reserve and one part mountain resort town, and both parts were Erinyes’ private playground. All of Kasiya Estates’ agricultural production, from distillery and vineyard to farms and ranches, came through Mytilene.
Erinyes met the Keibatsus at the spaceport. Unsurprisingly, she already had her hip flask in one hand as she waved to them with the other.
The Strix landed deftly and moments later the rear hatch opened with a pressurized hiss. Two enormous figures stepped form within, both nearly clearing seven feet in height. One is polished beskar and the other in the simple robes of a Jedi. Scanning the immediate area briefly, they stepped to either side of the hatch to allow the diminuitive Odanite Proconsul to disembark.
“Yes, thank you. Now you can wait here.” The droid casually riding on the back of her white overhaori, beeped in what could only be considered reproach. “I highly doubt anyone here would be willing to risk a diplomatic incident so I don’t need guards. I didn’t want guards and I could have easily taken one of the Clan transports.”
The giants who flanked Mihoshi looked at each other and were obviously exchanging words with each other too softly to be heard from even feet away. Miho smoothed the non-existant wrinkles from her form-fitted black shirt and trousers she wore. “I am certain that between my brother and the Emissary herself, I will be more than looked after. Now spare me from your bothersome presences.”
The soft sounds of laughter could be heard as the two giants ducked back into the StarSpeeder. Miho approached Erinyes with a smile, her hair concealing the right side of her face as was normal for the small woman. Reaching into the courier satchel she held, Miho produced an earthenware jug with a red silk carry strap and held it out in offering. “To my host, a gift. This is arak. It was first brewed on New Tython from the sap of tropical trees native to an area called Kamuekiko. During our exodus from that doomed world, some seedlings were brought with us to the Vatali Empire and planted. This is from the first batch brewed on Solyiat. Some find it to be a little too spicy, but I make it a gift to you to use as you will.”
It hadn’t been the first time that the Fallen Spear had orbited Kasiya, but it was under much calmer conditions this time. The Theta-Class navigated from low orbit, spiralling down to the Mytilene Spaceport. Hydraulic hisses, slow opening doors and dramatically lowering ramps aside, it was a relatively uneventful transition from space to the soil. Muz stopped, letting his eyes adjust to the bright before spying the others. Two tall ones retreated to his sister’s ship as she talked to the Zeltron Emissary, a retired high chancellor of the clan previously voted ‘most likely to get eaten’ next ten years past. Had he thought back then for a second that it would eventually be led by one of his oldest friends, he would have laughed. But times change, and on occasion, it seemed for the better.
This, gods willing, was the case now. An eyebrow raised as he motioned for Forge to follow him, his arms wrapped around a wooden crate, the planks joined together in precise ways that required no hardware or glue. The work of generational skills and a drive to perfection, as was often the way among the Kyatarans. They stepped closer to the pair, Muz’s focus pulling back as a matter of common practice, allowing the Weave of the Force to wash over him, to taste the air and hear the music of the spheres.
It was their way to bring gifts. Or, at least he assumed it was. There were other cultures that did as well, so maybe it was more a matter of good breeding. It didn’t matter to him, not in this moment. Muz bowed his head a minute degree at Erinyes, then at Mihoshi, standing there for a moment longer than prescribed by court doctrines. Letting a smile tweak the corner of his mouth, he stepped toward his sister and kissing her on the forehead, then handed her a bundle. It was wrapped in pale silk with a crimson ribbon, a white canister, the ceramic shattered and repaired with bright gold. Atop, a single vibrant flower, petals of dark purple that grew lighter as they reached the center, then exploded in a brilliant gold, the wobbling stamens dropping silvery dust with each movement. “From home.” He smiled, then took a step back as she took the bundle.
Turning to the Emissary, he waited a moment for Forge to move with him, then took the box from the droid, bowing his head a degree as he handed it in her direction. Within, several neatly tied bundles of herbs lay atop an embroidered silk, with a carved lacquer box and two large crystal bottles. The first bottle contained clear liquor, the daylight diffusing through it to cast prismatic echoes across the inside of the box. The next had a more ornately worked bottle, swirling clouds placed there by the blower, the liquid inside swirling between amber and clear, never intermingling fully. “From our Kyataru: <Ceremonial-grade> tea, <thousand-year> herb, Firewine clear spirit, and Stormcloud whisky.” The meanings flew into their heads even if the words didn’t match.
He stepped back, Forge retreating in kind, pausing for a moment to enjoy the mountain air with a deep breath. The pomp and courtly expectations finally aside, it felt like a burden lifting.
Erinyes switched to Emissary Mode, offering the Keibatsus an official bow of greeting, then accepted each of the gifts in turn, before placing them in a… floating mini-fridge.
Yes. She had a floating mini-fridge.
“Thank you for gracing us with your visit, and for your very generous gifts—especially after the misadventure last time you were here. I hope you’ll find Kasiya up to your standards.”
Apparently, those few sentences were enough diplomatic protocol for Erinyes, which might explain the Brotherhood’s relative isolation.
“Oh, who am I kidding? We’re all friends here. If I didn’t think you’d be impressed with Kasiya, I wouldn’t have invited you here.”
Mihoshi smiled at her brother as she accepted his gifts and the kiss on her forehead, watching him through a curtain of blue-black hair. She held the silk wrapped bundle and canister with so much care, it was evident she hadn’t had many such gifts over the years. From home he had said. A word that held meaning only in memory. She had places to sleep, places to keep things, but a home wasn’t on the list until now. Home was a small house with paper walls and straw mats. Home was fields of flowers they would picnic in to watch the leaves turn with the seasons.
Home was family.
One of the tall women, the one wearing robes approached silently, her voice soft and she stopped a respectful distance behind the smaller Kyataran.
“Councillor Keibatsu, we will…” Xin began as she held her hands out towards her much smaller mistress. Without her sister, Xin seemed to just stop talking though more needed to be said.
Miho sighed as she turned towards Xin, handing over the precious gifts for a moment. She traced the golden lines on the canister, admiring the beauty of it for a moment before opening it to reveal dried leaves that filled the space above them with a soft, floral scent that reminded her of their mother. Closing her eyes as she closed the canister, she breathed deeply floating softly on the almost forgotten memory.
The giantess’ orher hand held out the silken bundle. Untying it slowly, the young woman pulled out a robe of pure white silk, embroidered with the family crest. The Dragon that was both a statement and a warning. The same symbol that was inset on the lightsabers in her quarters aboard The Resurgent back in Odanite space.
She placed a hand gently on the robe and closed her eyes, taking a moment to keep her composure. Years away from her family had made her more animated emotionally, but such gifts were powerful reminders. Reminders of home, of family, of safety.
A gentle smile and a respectful bow towards her brother. “Wonderful gifts, brother. I thank you.”
She wanted to wear it, but also feared it being soiled so soon after receiving it. “Please set both of these in my cabin on the ship, Xin.”
“It would be our…” She began.
“…waiting for your return.” Xin finished.
As the Nagai departed once more, Mihoshi turned back towards her brother and Erinyes, her face again schooled to perfection. She smiled and gave the Zeltron a small bow. “Please forgive me, Lady Erinyes. I am pleased to be here as your guest.”
Muz dipped his head a degree as Miho bowed, watching the Zeltron’s reaction. If your influence here is as strong as it has been elsewhere, I am sure that we shall be impressed. He forgot to use his voice this time, reverting to forms learned over the last dozen years. Thoughts were more concise, directed, personal. Words themselves were fleeting, forgettable, often enhanced with flattery and lies. Wasteful. It was easier for him to send the thoughts over than it was to strain tired vocal cords anyway. He flung the flavors and textures from several of the Emissary’s soirees into the ether for them to sample as they chose, proving his point. How he had experienced….or rather remembered experiencing them, anyway.
“This is where it all began.” Three glasses floated up from inside her personalised cooler, each containing a slightly blue-tinted liquid over ice. “And this is how it all began. Consul’s Choice tsiraki. My passion project after I resigned as Taldryan’s leader.” The glasses floated over to each of them. Erinyes grasped hers in a toast. “Friendships and reunions.”
The tsiraki was unmistakeably herbal, but also a tad sweet, and a tad spicy—like everything on this moon, apparently. The farinsol buds Muz noted on his first sampling helped to smooth out the other flavours, and complemented the astringency of the tonic water. It was meticulously and perfectly balanced as only an inveterate alcoholic true master distiller could, with depths one could explore for years.
Other liquors might be “drinks Erinyes had invented”, but Consul’s Choice was Erinyes’ drink, as personal as her lightsabers—a distinction that Muz would understand, and Miho would quickly appreciate.
As the trio started in on their drinks, Erinyes led them towards a different section of the spaceport, where several luxury speeders were docked. “What are you feeling for lunch? We have a little of everything here. This side of Kasiya has more Imperial and Core Worlds influence, and the ingredient quality is excellent.”
Mihoshi accepted the glass and smiled politely at the toast. The taste was…interesting. the sweet spice of it and the sharpness of the mixer was something she didn’t quite expect but also wasn’t entirely unpleasant. She made a softly happy hmmm at the flavor of it.
At the mention of food, she looked a little crestfallen and confused. For years, when she hadn’t been encased in her prison of carbonite, she lived on ration paste. Before that had mostly been meals lf Kyataran design. Recently though, she had discovered the different foods offered in a few places. Baked foods at the festivals on Arx, dishes of the Vatali, tacos at the Shame Corner.
Faced however with the choices in front of her, she turned a worried gaze to Muz silently asking for some assistance.
Muz nodded as he savored the sip. He never really cared for the farinsol flavor, but Erinyes’ skill in her craft had made it a less prominent player than in other tsiraki he had in the past. As an apertif, it served well, that much was for certain, his stomach teased into growling. As to actual foodstuffs, though… too many dishes to count swam through his head that the paralysis of analysis would threaten starvation whilst confronted with countless options.
He threw back the remainder of the Consul’s Choice and tilted his head. Gesturing with a sweeping motion, he dipped his head as if to say ‘lead on’. After all, he was here for her to show off, so he was willing to place those choices in the woman who knew the terrain the best.
With no decisive answer forthcoming, Erinyes took matters into her own hands. A speeder limousine awaited them at a smaller landing platform, and the Emissary ushered her visitors inside. After tapping a brief message out on her datapad, she cracked open the minibar—not the floating cooler, the limo’s minibar, because of course they were two different things—and offered her guests fresh glasses.
“This might be more to Miho’s taste,” Erinyes said, extracting a bottle of clear liquid with a handful of small green fruits inside. “It’s sour plum—half of the fizzy green drink you tried at the harvest fair. The Nuosu over in Shanjiaoxia make it from distilled rice spirit.” She poured a modest helping for each of the Keibatsu and herself, presumably so they didn’t waste their appetites on alcohol.
Miho accepted the glass with a smile, taking a sip of the sour liquid with barely even a twitch. “It tastes even better by itself, I think.”
She smiled gently as she took another sip, holding the glass in both hands to make sure it was stable. One hand moved to tuck the curtain of hair away from her face, then returned to keep her glass stabilized. The gesture seemed subconscious, a movement practiced over years for one purpose or another. The carefully painted face hid the scars that had been present at the Autumnal Festival. Miho turned and looked out the windows with a smile at the landscape. “Will we get to meet these…Nuosu by chance? Do they do more than make spirits?”
The small woman seemed to come more awake at the mention of a specific people, clearly gaining more interest at the mention of more than just alcohol.
“Absolutely. They have a major trade hub called Shanjiaoxia on the other side of the Arreat Mountains, with its own array of culture, food, and so on. Some parts are similar to what Muz has shared of Kyataru.”
Ah, Kyataru. Hidden deep in the Tingel Arm, far from anything else of note, the Keibatsu homeworld had been notoriously both insular and difficult to find. After the Keibatsu Reclamation, that revolution helped dramatically modernize Inozawa, with a remarkable number of off-worlders taking up citizenship in the city compared to even twenty years ago. They were vetted very slowly and carefully, but the benefits were worth the difficulty. Outside of Inozawa, change was intentionally far slower, work to maintain natural beauty and still somehow keep everyone fed. Tradition meant a lot there, to the point that even the massive anti-air defense cannons were built to look like the roaring dragon black powder cannons of antiquity.
The world was all but a legend among those who were not close friends or allies to the Sons of the Dragon, and frankly, that was exactly how they preferred it - distant and well-protected. Muz let the thought of home marinate as he watched the landscape fly past outside the speeder, letting the balanced sour notes play across his tongue. He was fairly sure that Erinyes had not been there. He would have remembered that. The number of Brotherhood folk that his Nihilgenia allowed to the surface had been countable on one hand. Perhaps that experience would be a proper offer in thanks for this tour. After Mihoshi was ready to come home, of course.
If this world truly held similar foods and preparations, today would be an astonishingly better day than he would have guessed.
At the mention of their home, Miho turned an apprehensive glance towards her brother. The last time she had actually spoken of home with him, the words had been hushed. A memory they shared of pain. He had brought her presents from home, but se had made the assumption they had been made in the style of home. Had he actually meant from home when he said it?
She turned back towards Erinyes, her eyes suspicious as she gauged the Zeltron. “I’m always interested in things similar to how we were raised. I look forward to sampling their wares.”
She looked at Muz once more from the corner of her eye.
“Just remember, I don’t actually know much about life on Kyataru—or anything about it, actually. You probably need a better reference than ‘things that remind Erinyes of something Muz sent her once’. But hey, if you’re excited, I’m excited.”
The rest of the limo ride passed with as much or as little idle chatter as the group preferred. A short while later, they arrived on the rooftop landing pad of a restaurant, its billboard advertising as “Muse”. When the trio disembarked, a maître d’ was already there to greet them.
“Emissary Ténama, a pleasure as always,” the protocol droid said. “And– oh my, Lord Ashen! How good of you to visit Kasiya again. And I see you’ve brought your… daughter?”
Erinyes tried to silence her chortle. It came out as a snort instead.
Mihoshi grinned at her brother. They did look like they could be father and daughter. The resemblance between most of the siblings was pretty noticeable. And now that she was feeling a bit steadier since their surprise reunion on Arx, more and more memories from her childhood were surfacing. Their parents faces, gone so long for him, but only still a recent memory for her.
Maybe I’ll have their portraits done and gift them to him.
She gave a soft smile at her brother, one of the pillars of her own strength before turning to the man before them. “As much as I would be honored for that to be the case, I am just his sister. Close connection, to be sure. But, not the kinship of parent and child.”
She looked at Muz from the corner of her eye, the mischievous glint in those violet orbs clearly saying that she considered playing along for a moment.
An eyebrow raised, a head tilted. Muz was never one to wear his emotions openly, but those who knew him well might decipher a glimmer from even the smallest movements. There was a fair bit to unpack in the droid’s statement.
Firstly, that a maître d’ in a restaurant knew that he was on this planet before. He had assumed that the restaurant was owned by the Emissary, and that would have made sense that the droid would have been briefed. Except that it didn’t know who Miho was, which meant that it was not briefed, and instead knew him on sight. Synapses fired quickly as he filed the information away for later.
Daughter. Black eyes twitched. There was a long story there, and she had not been ready to tell it. She looked barely a year older than that day on K'hamer'a. Of course, he didn’t look his age, either, but there was an entirely different reason for that. He supposed that he might be ready to tell that story when she was ready to tell hers.
Eyes drifted forward, back to the present with a quickness that barely belayed his thoughts. “Just a sister?” His voice sounded like stone slabs dragging across each other, echoing in their heads before he recognized that it wasn’t necessary to the droid.
He let half a smile ease across his lips. “The princess is humble.” He widened his eyes a degree, trying to return the playful glint, but losing it behind the black scarring.
“Oh! Apologies, Your Royal Highnesses! I shall update our records accordingly. If you’ll follow me, please.” The droid turned and toddled into the restaurant, and Erinyes gestured for the Keibatsus to follow while she brought up the rear.
The restaurant was dressed in a “modern rustic” style, with aesthetically rough stone and exposed wood grains meant to give patrons the feel of being in the wilderness with none of the inconveniences—this was a resort town, after all, not organised homelessness. The view of the Scios Range was beautiful, though, and so close one could practically reach out and touch it.
The trio of VIPs were given a table in a secluded corner of the room, close enough to the rest of the restaurant that they could bask around the edges of the public-ness without drowning in it.
“Please do inform us if you have any special dietary requirements,” the droid said. “The Emissary has asked the chef to prepare a speciality menu, but should you desire anything else, we’ll be delighted to provide it.”
Princess.
Miho narrowed her eyes at her brother, unsure of what to make of the word. Sure, they had been the ruling family once upon a time. A time that she could still remember vividly. The scars from the burning beams of their home were still evident on her body. They may be covered in the intricate tattoos on her back now, but the scars were there nonetheless. Maybe he was just trying to needle her back for being sort of flip about their relationship? Sure not. He knew how much she had always valued her family especially since they were exiles.
Princess?
She followed behind in not-quite-cowed silence, taking in the sights. The small woman had seen places like this in the Unknown Regions, but the scenery here was a lot more enjoyable. Probably because she wasn’t looking for a mark to spill all over a table. She was here as a guest and happily so.
Princess?
She sat down at the table, turning to look out the window with a smile. Miho had always loved the outdoors. Nekura had taught her the basics of how to survive, Shin'ichi had taught her other things about the outdoors, and Musashi? Well, he had put the finishing touches on all of that knowledge. Mihoshi watched her brother sit, smiling gently up at him. She doubted he really knew how close it had been for her and that without the knowledge of her family the Kyataran exile would have been a smear on the ground somewhere. He may not need to know about the years spent as a slave, well not all of the sticky details at least. But, one day soon, Miho knew she should confide in him this particular information. Who knows, it might even make him smile.
Princess?!
Distractedly, the young woman looked back at their escort and smiled at him. “I have no restrictions, myself. Thank you for inquiry though.”
Had she become the Kyataran Princess again? The trip home she had been planning since she had met Leena at the Corner seemed to be one of utmost urgency now. Had the situation on their homeworld changed?
First came a two-dish appetizer course. One was a large, soft cheese ball, dotted with aromatic herbs and surrounded by crusty bread, pretzels, and slices of apple and pear. The other was a white cabbage salad, dressed with a tangy viniagrette and bits of smoked roba, as well as a distinct set of spices—caraway, perhaps?
“This is an experiment,” Erinyes said, gesturing to the three glasses of beer that the server set down. “Kasiya Estates’ first try at a lager. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.”
Muz nodded in recognition of the Zelton’s words. “I am far from an expert in ‘lagers’. But…” He raised the glass, examining the color as light diffused through the golden effervesence. Expanding his senses, he lowered the glass, taking a deep breath in through his nose. The grainery scent welcomed him, reminding him of the tuns back home, the hidden floral notes dancing in earthy tones beyond conjured up summers. An eyebrow went up, impressed thus far and not ashamed to show it.
There were too many words for his voice. Our forefathers made their name with their skills in zymergy, after all. Images flung into their heads, the warmth of the stillhouses, the scent of the caves lined with full oak barrels aging and perfecting, the taste of a ripened ume on the tongue, juices dripping down the chin, all senses sent from his memory to them. We’ve done our best restoring that history, that glory. Snippets of construction and sweat flew, the rebuilding of the breweries in the Valley below Kuroshin, unsealing the caves hidden in the mountain, capturing the clean spring water that erupted next to their ancestral home, then cascaded down the waterfall to the valley below. The workers returned, the recipes rediscovered. Barrels and bottles left bearing their imperial seal.
Muz paused, debating to send the next thought. They had tried bringing in fine beers, to see how the Kyatarans would enjoy the brew. To see if it would be smart to make that as well. Their reactions and words said otherwise. Thinking better of it, he simply raised the glass to take a furtive sip.
It was a unique flavor. Refreshing and earthy, cool and bitter. There was a hidden sweetness within, but it lived below the heavier notes, where some couldn’t bother to go. Muz nodded at Erinyes. It was a remarkable example of that sort of beverage, but it was not something that he was used to. He watched his sister for her reaction, generally more animated and vibrant than his own, if history held true.
Mihoshi had leaned down to examine the amber colored liquid in her own glass, only distractedly paying attention to her brother’s thoughts and feelings as they washed over her. His mind had always been gentle to her, a sharp, loving mind that only meant harm to those who had threatened their family. The feelings of home and of having recovered something lost drifted across her entire being as she examined the glass. If she was being perfectly honest - and in her own thoughts she was - the recent festival was the first time the young woman had gotten away with drinking without having to prove beyond doubt that the decidedly youthful princess was old enough to drink.
“Lager?” Her word fell across the table softly, her lightly musical voice making the word a question with the lilt at the end. Miho straightened up and lifted the glass, mimicking Muz by inhaling the scent gently. She wrinkled her nose as the small bubbles popped, getting some of the sheen of liquid on her nose. With a smile, she took a small sip of the liquid and closed her eyes.
A soft hmm of pleasure came from somewhere about her person as she rolled the bitter brew along her tongue before swallowing. As an afterthought, she covered her mouth, hiding the fact that she was wiping the bubble’s residue off the tip of her nose. She gave what was quickly becoming a telltale tick of her head as the full flavor of the lager hit her. The initial reaction was directly counter to the secondary one as Miho turned her eyes to Erinyes, trying to find the words.
“I don’t think this is one for me, but it is quite delicious.” She began slowly, trying to feel her way through it. She set the glass down and went back to examining the beverage on a level. “The initial flavor is…soft? Kind of crisp, like the weather when watching the leaves turn and fall.”
Miho wrinkled her nose a bit, a rueful smile on her lips. “The bitter aftertaste is…an experience. The sharpness is a good counter for the starting flavor.”
She tapped the rim of the glass with one delicate finger, smiling at it. “I do suppose, however, that if one got used to the flavors that it would be quite impressive.” She looked up from where her face hovered inches over the table and gave their hostess a wink. “I’m sure I could grow to enjoy such a drink.” She said softly, seeming to reverse her previous statement a little.
She leaned back and picked it up for another, slightly larger drink. The hmm followed by the wincing tick as the bite of alcohol worked its way down. With a sigh and a nod, Miho grinned at her brother. Every sip was a little better, a little easier. The cool refreshing bite, the bubbles that were both a pleasant sound and feeling, the whole package of it. “A first attempt, she said. I think that when they finish it and get it just right…”
She let the words drift away as she took another drink.
Erinyes took a piece of crusty bread, spread some of the cheese ball on it, and popped it into her mouth. “Doting brother” wasn’t a side of Muz she’d ever expected to see. In fact, as far as she knew, he didn’t even treat Ashia that way.
It was… weird. Not bad weird, just “oh yeah, Grand Masters are people too” weird.
She washed the bite of bread and cheese down with her lager, and her eyes brightened. “Ooh! That’s the way to do it. The acidity cuts the richness of the cheese.” Then, she helped herself to a serving of cabbage salad.
Muz watched the Emissary lean back in her seat. There was a fresh ease in her mannerisms. Unforced. More so than he had seen out of her in the past. Sure, Erinyes had this iconoclasm about her in general, a disdain for titles and so forth, but behind that always carried a necessary undercurrent of wariness. Wariness that seemed to evaporate in the past few minutes, even compared to the last….however many years it had been that they’d known each other now.
Not that he blamed her for subtle caution. He supposed that she knew what her words could result in with others. She had to. Elders of the Brotherhood had often put in decades of work, extracting from the universe a death toll in the hundreds or even thousands in pursuit of power, of respect. And they defended those hard won spoils vigorously. He could not even count the number of times he had seen duels break out over using the wrong honorific, or even adding a schoolyard epithet to someone’s clan. He’d even seen Sith Lords posture and preen, as if someone’s words could steal their prowess. It was obnoxious at best, pathetic at worst, but wasteful so very always. They were all pretenders, playing at truth. Muz dismissed those thoughts with a half hearted wave of a hand. The Lion was unconcerned with what others thought of him. If he had to roar, they would know him.
He took a small bite, the chunk of soft pretzel coated with a bit of the soft cheese that seemed to disintegrate in his mouth, the flavor seeping across his tongue pleasantly. Following the woman’s example, he finished with a sip of the brew, letting the flavors intermingle, culinary alchemy shifting the experience. He smiled as the sensation subsided. “That reminds me of this tea that Ashia makes…” He paused, his mind retracing a million steps in but a moment. Erinyes had only really encountered Ashia in passing, on a broader battlefield, all of them working together, but apart.
Except for…
His eyes narrowed subcnsciously as he traced thought through memory. No, Erinyes had left the Brotherhood territories to forge her own path down through the deeper reaches of space at about the same time that Taldyran had decided to start becoming a thorn in his side. He chuckled as his eyes softened. Perhaps had she not had her own demons to chase, she might have been able to make the fools to see wisdom. But it didn’t matter now.
It was decades of memory, concentrated contemplation. Over in a heartbeat.
The past remained there. And they were here now. He angled his head a degree. “I think you’d like it.” He nodded once, half a smile playing across his lips. “And meeting Ashia properly as well.”
No one ever really escapes what they have become. Do we deserve to ever be forgiven?
Mihoshi watched the two of them and their tries of the formed ball of cheese. She wasn’t averse to cheese, but her attention was more for the simple salad before her. The strips of smoked meat, the white leaves, the aromatic seasonings that topped it. The young woman picked up one of the forks and gently poked the salad, enjoying the scent as the prodding moved the combined piece against each other to recreate their full aroma.
It reminded her of places she had been. Not the whole, but the parts. Smoked meat reminded her of the dehydrated trail rations she was provided for lengthy assignments. The sharpness of the dressing, the crisp night air in a field of flowers covered acrid smoke as a nearby town burned to the ground.
She skewered a small strip of roba and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she looked at Erin. Their host was practically a stranger, met only very recently before this impromptu invitation. But, she was already becoming someone Miho counted as a friend. Sharing a meal together - and if the invitation was to be believed, there were even more planned - was almost an even more intimate connection than some others she could name. No one could poison you if you ate alone.
And then there was her brother. Violet eyes turned to him, studying him. A face that had only barely changed in the time apart. But, there was a weight to him now. Not of size, but of emotion. Even as muted as her own talents were, she could sense that so much had happened. What had he said at the festival?
People like us don’t get happy endings.
A sentiment she herself had held for years beyond counting.
We have to make them.
She knew why she felt that way, but she wondered about her brother. What had he seen? What had he done? Other than the events they shared, what had created that knowledge in her brother? He had been the one to teach a hate-fueled girl-child how to care for others. Had been the first to remind the young Mihoshi that caring for others was a duty owed to the least among them.
Had taught her what it truly meant to be noble.
Miho smiled at him, her eyes unconditionally forgiving for this man who had sacrificed so much. This brother who had endured where lesser men would have been shattered. In the end, the young woman knew in her heart that no matter what he had done, he was still who he had always been to her.
She took another bite of the salad, tasting the flavors as they mingled in her mouth before taking a sip from her glass. Did they deserve the fates they had been dealt? Probably not, but they would handle it the best they could.
She didn’t know what he had become and he didn’t know what she had become. These two had been thrown through a storm of fate. They would share their stories one day. She would share in the past of his life through stories just as he would her own.
And they would share in the future of each other, given a new chance to laugh, to enjoy, to live. For so long, Miho had been trapped in stasis, trapped in an exile that had forever changed her. The young woman bore scars on her body and her soul from what she had become over the last few decades.She could feel them within her brother, scars healed over but still etched deep inside.
She took another bite, as she watched her companions interact. She had heard of Ashia long and long ago, conversations that were still fresh in her mind. Memories that, once again, were still new for her but ancient history for him. Had she ever gotten the chance to meet her? She didn’t think so.
She made the move to lay a gentle hand on her brother’s arm, an offer of simple contact with no expectations. “I think I’d like to meet her too. Did you two ever…?”
Miho grinned at her brother, that telltale glint of a younger sibling in her eyes. She wanted more than anything to share in his life of the past years. Wanted to hear the good things that had happened. The day would come where they would share with each other the bad times, the nightmares, but for now, she wanted to good times. Not that she wouldn’t tell him if he pressed her, but for now she was content to tease him a little and to hear of happier times.
Seeing the way Muz and Mihoshi interacted stirred something inside Erinyes, a dull ache in her soul that she couldn’t quite place. Like any good functioning alcoholic, she ignored it in favour of her lager.
Then she raised an eyebrow at Muz. “A cheese pretzel and lager reminds you of a tea? What sort of witchcraft does Ashia put into her teapots?” She followed the question with a helping of cabbage salad, chewing thoughtfully and hmming in satisfaction at the taste. “Ooh, that smoked roba is really nice.”
He set the beverage down, his gaze sliding back to his sister. When you’re ready to come home… He gently sent the words instead of the images. She’d want to see it herself, and he was not about to rob her of that. The castle at Amahara under the banner of their Dragon. The hidden gem of Kuroshin, nestled deep in the northern mountains. The station, bridging the gap between the old and the new. Inazawa’s modernization. The smell of roasting meat, the steam of fresh dumplings mastered over generations. Of good tea, and of seafood so fresh that it didn’t even need to be cooked. The forested valleys, tiny island chains, cliffside villages, all the things that he knew she would want to see. She’s there. He paused, thinking of her of how she had kept him sane, how she reminded him that he was still a man. When you’re ready.
The tea though? It was some sort of absurdly rare flower that she dried with the leaves, then steeped in hot water. It was a resoundingly spicy and brilliant green drink, unless she added ice. A single cube of ice, and the concoction would shock to a red that seemed bright enough to glow, the flavor mellowing to a more herbal and sweet taste, the spice all but gone. He had studied alchemy for decades now, and that reaction still impressed him. Muz swallowed a sip of lager and half-smiled at Erinyes. “Magick, she’d say.”
Ready to come home. Had she wanted anything less than that after Musashi had found all of them? Had she tried to hold onto the hope of seeing it during twenty odd years of captivity?
Why did the thought of home scare her so much?
She smiled at her brother and nodded. “Soon, brother.” Shebhad murmured, knowing that it was loud enough for him to hear her without disturbing his own thoughts. She took a sip of her own lager before turning towards the cheeseball, scooping a small amount away with one of the crispy bread pieces.
Home, she thought. She mostly only knew of their ancestral home from stories Nekura and Musashi had told her. Images shown to her by Shin'ichi. Her own memories were strong, but fragments. How old had she been when they had set it ablaze. Ten? Younger? It had been decades since then for some. But, a lot less time for her.
She popped the cheese and bread into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. Miho was more than happy at the moment to let her companions talk to one another.
When you’re ready. The words seared her heart, knowing that should likely have been the first place she had gone after coming back from the Unknown. The small woman smiled again as she drank some more from her glass and returned her attention to her salad. “The smoked meat pairs wonderfully with the crispness of the salad.” Her voice was soft , not entirely speaking to anyone in particular but seeming to agree with Erinyes.
When the three diners had finished their first course, the servers brought the main meal out.
It might’ve been a disgrace on Kyataru. The chefs had taken perfectly good fish, and cooked it.
Having said that, the flavours were reminiscent of some Kyararan dishes. Ths red-meat fish had been marinated in green onions, ginger, sesame oil, rice vinegar, and fermented bean sauce. It flaked at the touch of a utensil, yet it was tender, as though it had been more steamed than fried—despite the obvious scent of wood smoke and the char marks crossing the fillets.
Accompanying the salmon were green beans tossed with something slightly sweet, tangy, and funky, not unlike a Kyataran honey miso glaze, though with more vinegar to cut the sweetness. There was also a tuber salad, with added vegetables and a creamy dressing, slightly spiced with… mustard? Horseradish? Something along those lines.
And then, of course…
“Kasiya Estates Alabaster Premiere,” the sommelier said, pouring three glasses—he’d apparently been informed that the teenage-looking girl wasn’t actually a teenager. “Mtsvane grapes from our first harvest on Kasiya. The dry tartness pairs marvellously with the fattiness of the redfish. Please, do enjoy.”
“Thank you, Setn,” Erinyes said, and nodded as he bowed and departed. Of course she was on a first-name basis with the wine guy.
.
It was far from the first time that he had eaten cooked fish. Hells, he hadn’t had it fresh enough to bother with raw except in two places. Not, normally his experience with fish was less than steallar. Left dead for too long, decaying in it’s own juices while the fancier ones called it ‘fermenting’, the only way to make it palatable was to coat it in breading and fry it in fat and then bury it with spices and salts.
Naturally, the use of the word gave him pause. But what lay on the plate in front of him seemed unlikely to fulfill that expectation. Erinyes hadn’t led him astray yet. He paused, taking a tentative bite, steeling himself for disappointment. But this? No, this was nice. They must have kept the creatures alive right up until cooking, rather than killing them off site and quickfreezing, as all too often was the case, even on worlds with good fishing. There was a delicateness there, and the taste of the sea was subtle and sweet rather than overpowering and briney. It barely required any chewing, the muscle fibers somehow sliding apart between his tongue and the palate.
Muz gave an appreciative nod, then raised the glass of pale wine to his lips. Eyes drifted back to the plate, regarding the glossy long beans and starchy roots in some manner of cream sauce. Dark eyes lifted back again. This was all so …extravagant. Surely they didn’t eat this way all of the time. A people’s cuisine was rarely just the purview of the wealthy, attended to by chef and sommelier. As valid were the dishes of the average person, cooking off cuts in marvelous ways to bring out the flavor with generational recipes, the drunk reveler scarfing down street food on their way home, the student chowing down on something easy to hold in between classes and transport. Exploration dictated that all be engaged.
“Delicious.” He all but murmured. “Decadent.” They would need to walk afterwards, to clense their heads and their tongues.
Miho poked and prodded the fish lightly. The smokiness of the fish made her smile gently. Reminded of the old man who found her half-starved and dying after an escape attempt had gone wrong. She had slipped her handlers for a time and hid away only to have the dogs set on her. With a shake of her head, she cleared away the bad memories and took a small bite of the redfish. Shebmade soft sounds of pleasure, enjoying the layered flavors of the fish. Sampling the green beans, she though about all the times she had tried to recreate a flavor from memory only for the dish to be ruined. The salad was the more interesting part of the course to her. The tubers, their vegetable companions and the creamy dressing mixed with the spicy flavor of…whatever it was, intrigued her and the tingle of it all on her tongue was enjoyable. Perhaps she could get a jar of the spicy flavor to use on other things. Then came the idea of importing some of the dry goods for use with regular Sephi dishes back home.
A discussion for another time.
She lifted the wine glass and took an experimental sniff, taking in the tart aroma for a moment before taking a sip. The flavor was lovely, tart but not overwhelmingly so. Perhaps a few bottles to take home for the others. She didn’t really know Tierra or Tisto that well, but Master Haku might enjoy the wine. She smiled and set her glass down before taking another bite of the salmon.
“This is all quite wonderful. The fish is prepared expertly and the flavors of it are simply wonderful.” She could feel the weight of rich, decadent food settling into place. “As my brother said, delicious. The wine does, in fact, pair wonderfully with the fish, balancing it to near perfection.”
She gestured her utensil towards the green beans, a light smile on her lips. “Adding more vinegar was a brave choice but it worked out quite well. I’m fond of dishes that have a bit of a bite to them. And the same can be said for the salad.”
Taking another bite of the fish, Miho made soft sounds of pleasure. The Twins were going to be upset they weren’t invited for the rest of the trip, but that was okay.
Maybe the next time she came would be more of a personal visit and less of a direct invitation. The mountains outside the windows called to her, called to that side of her that was from lands with cold air and too many trees.
Yes, she would have to come for an extended visit at some point.
Seeing Muz and Mihoshi’s interactions left a sharp but distant ache in Erinyes’s chest. They turned her thoughts back to a conversation with another Grand Master, under far less pleasant circumstances. It was…
… what wine was for, Erinyes decided, sipping from her glass.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it all. Cedar-plank redfish is a local speciality. I fell in love with it when I first got here, and I haven’t shut up about it since. We’re trying to find a way to bring it offworld, but I haven’t found another redfish species that works as quite as well as the local variety.”
The rest of the meal—namely, a maple-berry custard, dramatically scorched before serving—was just as delightful as the rest of the meal, and served with a sweet dessert wine.
After that caloric bomb, it was indeed time for a walk, as the former Grand Master had suggested. Erinyes led the Keibatsus on a walking tour of Mytilene’s “city centre”, showing off the mountain resort town.
Finally, the day wrapped up with lodgings at Erinyes’ personal villa, a Tapani-style compound nestled on a hilltop overlooking both Mytilene and the Kasiya Estates vineyards. It was a none-too-subtle sign that, as Muz had noted, this was Erinyes’ town—no matter who sat in the mayor’s chair.