Diffraction

Chapter Nineteen: Coercion

"I attempted to secure an interview with your student. Whether by his intention or inaction I cannot say, but all my efforts proved unfruitful. Perhaps this is for the best, as his account must surely be biased in favor of his ally."

The main hall of the Refuge held numerous customers—a change Merror noted once the presence of "Heroes" became public. Tales of raids against the bandits caught the public's attention, and many came to offer thanks or encouragement. Ellers used the crowd to gather information and leads on other bandit camps through the townsfolk's conversations. Kristophe had no end of adoring fans to whom he could recount his exploits.

He knew the others allowed him some creative leeway, but assumed they did so out of deference for the only true nobleman in their ranks.

Tonight, Josephine and Lyllithe sat in silence. The Ghostskin barely touched her meal. Her palpable sense of defeat hung about them like the odor of a burnt roast in the kitchen.

At least tonight's meal set before the companions turned out favorably. For common fare.

Kristophe eyed the moping women and sighed. Bad enough when they're being stupid. At least then I have something to laugh at. But this depression is unbearable.

Coreleth responded to his thoughts through their link. Failure is often a stepping-stone to greatness. It motivates a person to try harder, do better, and win. Few enjoy the life you've led, Master Tranthus. Few get whatever they want.

A memory sparked in Kristophe's mind. She applied at the Hall today, right? I suppose I don't need to ask how that went, judging by the look on her face. He couldn't hold back a laugh. "So you didn't even succeed at the one thing you came here to do?"

Lyllithe blushed. Rather unnerving with that pale skin.

"Kristophe!" Josephine exclaimed, glaring at him.

But Lyllithe stayed silent, her gaze fixed on her plate. She unconsciously ran her fingers through her hair, covering the points of her ears. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed, then she pushed away from the table. "Excuse me, and good night," she mumbled before disappearing up the stairs to their rooms on the second floor.

Ellers shook his head between swift bites of second helpings. "That was harsh," he said. Josephine stood, hands on hips, leaning toward Kristophe in something resembling a threatening stance. "She is the kindest one of our little band—and she adores you. She learns so much from your example. Yet you feel both free and compelled to laugh in her face when her dream is crushed?"

Kristophe shrugged and took a bite of roast.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I see the irony," he said. "She left home for this, didn't she? Maybe she should've been better prepared."

Josephine said nothing, mouth hanging open.

She's got nothing to say, Kristophe thought, because she knows I'm right. The weak shouldn't be coddled. They should be forced to grow stronger than they are, or they should get out the way for the capable.

But she's still glaring at me like I've done some grievous wrong.

Kristophe raised his hands in defense. "Look, there's no use telling someone they're great and special and talented if they're not. If she will accompany us, she should know her strengths and weaknesses, and figure out what part she plays in this group. I will not entrust my life into the hands of someone incompetent. Would you?"