Enchanted -N. Lantsov

In This World Without a Voice or Say

"If this is you at your best, I'd hate to see you when you aren't. Literal children do better than this" Olysia watched as Igor flush red in embarrassment. "Oh how the mighty have fallen." She drew out slowly and observed everyone stop working and try to cover their work on the keftas they were working on, trying to shield the work from her judgmental eyes.

"Why did we stop?" The chatter resumed and everything went back to normal. Olysia joined the Fabrikators and they began to work faster.

The work was below expectations but it was looking loads better than they were before and they had no more time. Olysia kept quiet after her outburst but she had finished more than the others and it made her little heart soar. She was still better than all of them.

"Try not to cause trouble. We're already walking a very fine line with... everyone and I'd rather not be strung up on the tallest tree. I'm sure you all feel the same." Olysia quietly admitted.

Everyone looked weary at the mention of their well known hated status that had seemed to only get worse.

Then they looked to Feydor for his response as if Olysia's wasn't enough.

"She's right. We need to be on our best behavior." Feydor agreed and just reiterated what Olysia said but it seemed like everyone listened to him wholeheartedly. "Let's go now."

And just like that, the group of Grisha had mounted their horses and waited patiently for Alina. They had unknowingly situated themselves in the same particular order they always were in. Corporalki in the very front row, Summoners following closely behind, and the Fabrikators condemned in the back. Nothing was ever going to change. Not when they still clung to the archaic order that was set in place by the man they were running away from.

Alina finally showed up and looked to the small group of people who had come to follow her. Alina frowned slightly when she saw the segregation that had occurred. She tried to find Olysia but was hidden from view from her position behind the others. Alina eventually gave up and faced forward.

They made their way to Os Alta, slowly but surely. Despite what Olysia said earlier, the sunrise was quite breathtaking. The golden light had broken through the clouds creating rays that shone on everything. That sunlight became all the more apparent when they finally reached the hill just on the outskirts of the city where multiple First Army regiments stood. The light had glinted off their swords and rifles.

What a warm welcome.

There was finally movement among the frozen army. A man with glimmering medals that seemed to take up all of the space available on his chest rode up and Olysia had to remind herself of the function of breathing.

There was only one possible way that a man could wear so many medals, if he didn't earn any but had been handed to him because of his status.

Prince Vasily Lantsov had ditched the horses and whores in Caryeva and unofficially came to defend his claim to the throne against his little brother and it made Olysia shiver.

Nikolai went to greet him but Olysia couldn't hear much of the conversation from where she was and it bothered her greatly. Olysia loved to hear the drama that occurred and knowing she was so close to it and unable to hear was extremely bothersome.

"The return of a royal prince is no small thing," Vasily finally spoke loud enough for her to hear and it was painfully obvious as to why he did so. "Even a younger son."

"We younger sons learn to appreciate what we can get." Nikolai bowed his head humbly. He observed the soldiers that were behind Vasily and called out "Sergeant Pechkin, I remember you from the Halmhend campaign. Leg must have healed well if you're able to stand there like a slab of stone."