Eirian had succeeded where even Death had expected her to fail. The knowledge left her smug, proud, despite the extreme pain from her wounds and the hunger that felt like she was starting to eat herself. She drank a couple of gallons of clear broth, since she couldn't chew, before she recovered enough strength to tolerate moving.
They managed to be somewhat gentle as they helped her onto a wagon and brought her to the haphazard camp they'd set up. She'd nearly passed out from the pain at several points during the short journey, but her hunger had won out every time. Her body was starting to heal. Her magic, barely contained, seemed to be helping it along without much thought on her part.
She was lucky, she knew. Wounds from burns were some of the hardest to recover from; the kind of damage they did was deep and lasting, both physically and mentally. Eirian was never going to forget the smell of her hair burning or the feeling of her skin melting.
She had to force herself away from those thoughts, lest she spiral down into something she couldn't come out of. Her body twitched at the brief memory of the pain, which sparked new pain, and Eirian had to swallow down the urge to scream.
Even the few eyelashes she had left hurt, but the food was helping. They brought her more broth and then porridge when her mouth stopped bleeding and her lips were mostly back together.
Ravenous hunger came back quickly, so much so that she didn't mind that the porridge was being made so quickly; it was mostly tasteless. They had to feed the others as well; the army cooks worked overtime to provide enough food for everyone. The tribes were chipping in, based on the nuts and dried meat that started showing up in the later bowls.
It wasn't bad, but Eirian was looking for anything to focus on aside from herself, so she'd started a list of things she wanted to eat more of as soon as she got back to the Camelia, and right at the top of the list was a juicy, salted steak and potatoes with some kind of cheese.
And about a gallon of plum wine.
Maybe she'd even have Eric send over some of the bottles from the Soliel family cellar and spend the next year healing and utterly drunk.
A pair of soldiers arrived with several more bowls. Eirian was lucky enough to have her own tent, though Chenzhou and Mingzhe had left their things in a pile off to the side while they went to take care of things.
Not that there was much to take care of. What little Eirian had noticed on the way in was mostly a lot of people lying down and trying to sleep through their pain. The ones who weren't were struggling to pitch in with their own injuries, as it seemed no one had come through untouched.
The tribesmen and the soldiers of the Crimson Army seemed to have set aside their differences for now. It should have been surprising, but it wasn't. They'd all nearly lost everything, and while the tribesmen weren't prone to restrospection the way Sorrow and other western empires pretended to be, they also didn't forget when they believed they'd been betrayed.
For now, at least, they would stay firmly on the side of the Camelia.
A few of the older tribal women had started to help bring her food, but they stayed back, watching her with wary eyes from the entrance to the tent as the Camelia's soldier delivered the food to the table Eirian was propped up against.
Eirian managed to croak out a question after a few hours of eating, "What's wrong with them?" Because she didn't look that bad?
Did she?
She did, but she looked this way because she'd saved all of them, so they could at least not look at her like she had the plague.
The soldier gathering her empty bowls gave her an apologetic look. "Don't take it personally, your grace. Don't think they've seen many folks with magic."
Which, fair. They'd certainly not taken it well when she'd unleashed it against the Loqui and their allies in the central valley.
They'd actually become rather suicidally inclined to fight her, so she supposed hiding a few feet away and staring at her like she was some strange creature in a cage was some kind of improvement.
And Eirian didn't have the energy to do more than grumble about it.
A young female soldier with her hair twisted up in braids brought a steaming pot that smelled of lemon and flowers. At Eirian's questioning look, she offered a tired smile. "It's an herbal tea, your grace. The tribes use it to ward off illness and recover health." Glancing at the tribal women by the entrance, she lowered her voice. "They insisted on making it for you. A sign of good faith."
Eirian sniffed it again. She loved fresh flowers, but most of the tea she drank was strong and dark and malty. It didn't taste too bad, mostly of lemon and a bit of grass. There was a hint of honeyed sweetness that followed and helped mellow the medicinal flavor. She drained the cup, and the tribal women by the entrance tittered, whispering among themselves in a way that Eirian hoped was pleased.
The tea may not have been to her preferred taste, but her throat did start to feel better almost immediately, and it sent a gentle warmth through her that was nice.
"Can they make more?" They probably had a limited amount, given how much had burned.
"Lord Ye already sent for the ingredients from the Camelia. It's on its way now." She smiled, pleased as Eirian accepted another cup.
"Where is Chenzhou?" Eirian wondered between sips.
"Lord Ye is overseeing the healing tents." The soldier responded. "There was some confusion due to the different languages. Lord Ye is one of the few who speaks enough of them to translate for everyone."
"And Lord Zhao?"
"Organizing the arrival of supplies and aid. Lord Zhao and Lord Ye felt it best to build up this camp, rather than try to fit everyone in the Camelia." She paused. "There is nothing left to burn now, so it's safe."
Eirian ignored the starry look in her eyes. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd done herself; she wasn't going to be able to explain it to anyone else just yet.
~ tbc