Chapter 27:
"Safe travels."
"Thank you, sir."
The man didn't say much else. Eri frowned a bit as the man and two others hopped out of the carriage. There wasn't a village in sight on this beaten path. She closed her mouth as her father raised his hand. It was rude, at least to her, how these people were acting. She wanted to say something, but the sting of what had happened kept her silent.
That left only Hephaestus, Eri, and Mestra. Eri eyed the noble woman. She noted the way Mestra's eyes were alight with defiance, stubbornly keeping her gaze on the road in front of her, lost in her own mind. The woman twitched, her fingers digging into her arms.
"Will they be ok?" asked Eri.
"...I don't know," admitted Hephaestus.
The group disappeared into the woods. No weapons, no armor. It was the height of stupidity. In their fear they would rush off into uncertainty.
"They're not very smart," grumbled Eri.
Mestra scowled, glaring at the child.
"They don't want to associate with gods."
Eri bristled at that but she couldn't really argue it, not anymore.
"A sensible notion," agreed Hephaestus, "until you're walking into the forest near dark."
Mestra grimaced, nodding in agreement.
"Ifrit."
The poor noble woman fell out of her seat, crawling back as a bird born of azure flames escaped out of the god's body before her.
"Make sure they get home safely," he requested.
The bird was equally as annoyed as Eri, but followed through without complaint.
"T-that's a phoenix!"
Eri grinned, turning her body around to rest on the back of the driver's bench on the carriage.
"Yup! Her name's Ifrit, my dad's divine beast!"
If she noticed Mestra's confusion, Eri didn't show it. She frowned a tad, narrowing her eyes as she thought of something. "Uh…don't ask for pets. She doesn't like them."
"Who on earth would pet a flaming bird!" thought Mestra.
She swallowed that outburst, keeping it to herself. Though the way Eri chuckled at her, she probably knew.
Mestra shivered a bit, the feeling of divine power washing over her. She couldn't actually feel it before, but ever since she had been blessed by Poseidon, she could feel it on the surface of her skin. She felt as if she was beside a slumbering volcano.
"You said you needed help right?"
Mestra swallowed. She had been lucky so far that the duo had not asked any questions. She had hoped they'd get her home and see for themselves, but that might have been too much to hope for.
"My father's been cursed," she muttered, "by the Goddess Demeter."
Hephaestus turned his head, his golden eye looking at the girl over his shoulder.
"He needs to be stopped," muttered Mestra, "but more importantly, he needs his curse removed!"
Eri blinked, immediately cooling her expression. Her poker face was impeccable, unreadable even by her father. With people who knew her, it did little, as it just showed that she was hiding something, but for strangers?
Mestra impatiently tapped her finger, her annoyance growing. Did they even care? Exhaustion, stress, a combination of both? Either way, their calmness did nothing to ease the tension she felt.
It only ignited it.
"You wanted to know why those people avoided you?" glared Mestra.
Even when her stomach twisted, Eri's face never changed.
"Because even if you help, you do nothing but make it worse! The gods do nothing but destroy. They don't care what happens to the rest of us…or what they leave broken."
It was hard to argue with what they knew, but the way Hephaestus was unfettered made Eri think there was more to it than what Mestra was implying. Yet, the girl didn't seem like she was lying.
Eri didn't have any memories of Demeter, so it wasn't like she could argue, and her father remained silent, merely eyeing the road ahead.
"...say something!"
When her father's gaze met Mestra, the almost manic girl went stiff. When he looked at her, all he saw was a frightened young woman. Someone who had been pushed to the brink. Her eyes were barely focused, stressed. He noted the small scratches across her arms where she gripped them with her nails, gnawing at her skin over and over.
EMIYA's knowledge of Greek myths were more practical than universal, really only devoting himself to the knowledge that was helpful in battle. Yet, countless lifetimes allowed for an accretion of knowledge through osmosis. The story of Mestra was one of them.
Mestra tried to speak, but that gaze seemed to take her voice and tighten her throat. Men always looked at her the same way. Gazes filled with lust or ambition. The rare few who looked at her like a person were always run off by her father.
"Not good enough," he would say, "their lineage is weak."
More like their coffers weren't fat enough. Even pity, from when a few of their servants watched her get sold off, had become often enough to be common. Yet, it was as if his gaze deconstructed her, as if he knew her.
Like he knew what happened.
The smell of salt water sat seeped like sewage, the feeling of fingers around her throat causing the world to spin. She held firm, fighting the urge to gag.
"Dad?"
"Not our place to pry," assured Hephaestus. Though, it was more for Mestra than his daughter.
It did nothing to reassure the near-shaking woman. The smell of ash fluttered through her nose, the feeling of the sea retreating in the greater presence of fire. A glow hit her eyes, and she saw that the god's body had cracked open.
"There's no blood," she thought absently.
His power radiated out, leaving Eri smiling. She basked in the divine heat like a cat near a hearth. Inspired, Eri made to conjure a different spell. The rune for peace forming. It brought a sense of calm to whomever it was casted upon.
Eri jumped as her father's enveloped her own, the mana gasping as it was smothered. He only shook his head at her quizzical look. The girl had already had something taken from her, forcing a sense of calm would have the opposite effect.
Instead, he merely waited. He could feel the power in Mestra. Such a strange sensation, the blessings. Unmistakably divine, yet diluted somehow. It raged within the woman like a riptide, churning away at odd intervals.
If the tales were true here as they were back in EMIYA's world, then feeling such a power was a curse, not a blessing. An act of cruelty that constantly tethered her, to her assaulter.
"How disgustingly ironic," thought Hephaestus with a scowl, "a blessing to grant her freedom yet chains her to Poseidon."
The god of fire's own divinity did nothing to repel the blessing, but it seemed to have muted the feeling of it, whatever peace that brought.
They rode in silence, until Mestra's shaking ceased and her eyes grew heavy. Eri acted quickly, a sponge of green energy flying out. Eri's eyes glowed as she chanted her spell, the energy weaving around the woman's body.
Mestra's snoring brought a smile to them both, the spell acting as a pillow and blanket in one.
"An interesting application," admitted Hephaestus.
"It's just a spell," smiled Eri, "n-no biggy."
She blushed at her father's knowing smile. Her damn stutter got her everytime. The raw manipulation of mana required two things. Control and condensation. Control the direction of mana, condense the quantity of mana.
This was a skill that even the most seasoned witches under Hecate's control could not do. A realm only certain individuals could reach. As a child of Athena, Eri's mind was uniquely suited to master raw mana manipulation, to the utter jealousy of her mother's oldest disciples.
Not even a teenager and she had surpassed her fellow apprentices, in application anyway.
She still lost the spars, lacking in both experience and greater theory. Manipulating raw mana was merely the first step; invoking it to empower existing spells and create new ones was the first hurdle that Eri ever had with magic.
Exhilarating and annoying all in one. All her mystical might, the utter epitome of magic…reduced to a comfortable sleep. Yet, her father's proud smile made such an unusual use of magic seem right to her.
Hecate would likely disapprove but for once, Eri wasn't worried about that. The thought of her parents made her frown though.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"She…seems lonely," muttered Eri.
He remained silent, clicking his tongue for the horses to speed up.
"Her father sold her, right?"
"He did. It is a practice referred to as slavery."
"...I don't like it," scowled Eri.
"Not many do."
"Yet it happens!" she growled.
"It does. There are multiple reasons that people use to justify it."
Her father's dull tone did little to endear her to the thought that justifications existed. She felt the same as her father. Such excuses would be hollow.
"We should travel and stop it all!" declared Eri, standing on the bench.
"I see," smiled Hephaestus, "shall we galavant across Greece, slaying evil doers?"
She had similar sentiments in the past. It was always mocked. Yet, her father's words carried no such insults.
"Yes!" she smiled, playing along, "heroes across Greece!"
Eri, while young, was more aware of politics than most adults. Gods becoming involved in human affairs was tenuous at best. She was surprised her father was entirely unaffected by the slaying of several slavers, but she attributed that to his knowledge of divine law.
Hephaestus couldn't help but laugh with her. He had entertained the idea of changing the world. He was powerful, and immortal. The theory was solid. Yet, EMIYA's experiences stayed in his hands. He had the best of intentions, a genuine desire to do good. Yet, how his life turned out was harrowing.
The eradication of evil required the annihilation of free will. So long as people could choose, some would choose greatness, and others sin. Was he a coward? Afraid of what he would become in the pursuit of such a goal? Perhaps.
It kept him up, these questions. The constant back and forth on the ethics and morality of such an idea. Yet, as he looked at Eri…he felt he had made the right choice. EMIYA had destroyed himself pursuing such an ideal. One could argue that he was not as hollow as the wrought iron hero, that he could do it, that it was possible!
…but was the possibility worth repeating EMIYA's tragedy?
"No," thought Hephaestus, as he cupped Eri's face. His daughter squealed, leaning into his hand. Her warmth, her very presence, it centered him. Hecate, Eri, the rivers, and even Lemnos. He had a life and a responsibility of his own now, the very kind that EMIYA sought, deep inside.
"Thank you," thought Hephaestus, "for everything."
He owed the existence known as "Hephaestus" and "EMIYA" more than he could ever repay and he would live it to the fullest.
"It's never wrong to help someone," said Hephaestus.
Eri blinked, eyes shining.
"What?"
"It is never wrong to help someone," said Hephaestus slowly, "it's a saying I've come to embrace. Even when I have responsibilities of my own, it is never wrong to help someone."
"...It's never wrong to help someone," muttered Eri.
Her eyes softened as she looked at her father. She nuzzled out of his hand, shifting in her seat to dig into his side. Her entire body pressed into him, holding him tight in her hug.
"Eri?"
"I was just thinking of Mestra and what happened to her. She says she wants to free her dad but…"
Even as young as she was, Eri noted how forced Mestra's desires were. Her words are not in sync with her voice. Eri closed her eyes and hugged her father tighter.
"I love you," she said simply.
Yet, no words could match such a simple phrase. She smiled as he looped the reins in one hand, leaving the other to softly hug her closer.
"I love you too," he smiled.
She felt the rumble in his chest as he spoke, the gravely tones as always making her feel safe. Wherever her father was, Eri knew that nothing could intrude. The concept of her father harming her in any way was completely alien to her, so when she saw it in Lemnos or in the worst cases here with Mestra, it always made her grateful for her dad.
He was the strongest, but more importantly, he was the best. Eri stubbornly tried to keep her eyes open, pouting at her father's soft chuckle.
"Sleep little one. I have you."
"But I-I-I wanna s-stay up!" she stuttered defiantly, even as her body betrayed her. Hephaestus eyed the starry sky above him. The fainting grip of the sun was almost gone as night began to firmly settle.
An orb of flame stayed above them, granting them light down the road.
"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. Always," he promised.
Eri's eyes fluttered shut, leaving only two people awake. Mestra bit her lip, even as her eyes were shut. Eventually, Hephaestus stopped for the horses, covering Eri with a blanket and a small swell of fire as he allowed the beasts of burden to rest.
Mestra stiffened, trembling ever so slightly as she heard the god lumber around the carriage to her. The sound of his metallic feet crunching on the dirt echoed in her mind. She tensed as the soft fabric covered her–
"What?" she thought.
Her eyes snapped open, looking up at the god who blinked at her.
"Apologies," whispered Hephaestus, "I didn't mean to wake you. It gets cold at night so I thought you'd appreciate some warmth."
She held the thick, warm cloth to her body. It was irresistibly soft. She eyed the small orb of flame that was in his hands and lifted it into the air. So close it should have burned, yet it was soft. A flickering flame that, against all instinct, seemed friendly.
"I-I should get up," she muttered.
The idea of sleeping near this man, any man, was out of the question.
"You need rest," explained Hephaestus. "No harm will come to you, not so long as I stand."
The words of Poseidon echoed in her mind. The way his tone and emotions fluctuated like the sea. Demeter was forceful, direct and uncaring. Hephaestus however…it was warm, if grumbly. She hated it. She hated how much she wished it was her own father saying these words.