Shinko's Medieval Fics

[Shinko]

This post originally updated for

As In Olden Days

[Shinko]

This post originally updated for

Smashed

[Shinko]

Takes place a few months after Smashed.


First Love

SPOILER: Click to show

It was a crisp late-autumn day in the village of Kolanth. Morgaine Braham adjusted the shawl she was wearing around her shoulders with a shiver- soon it would be winter, and most business would have to be conducted in the afternoon when the sun had sufficiently warmed things up. Almost nothing was done outdoors in the early mornings during winter, when it could and often was a full ten degrees or more cooler than it would be later in the day- Corvid winters were very peculiar that way.

Morgaine felt a soft bump on her arm, and looked around to see her thirteen year old daughter, Ophelia, press against her with a shiver. “I don’t know how the people in the northern regions stand the cold,” she complained quietly to her mother. “Nor why you should want to go somewhere it gets cold enough to snow in winter. I can’t even stand our temperature drops.”

The locksmith laughed, bumping her head against the teenager’s shoulder (in spite of being only thirteen, Ophelia was already taller than her mother’s four-foot-six) and gesturing out over the market square of Kolanth. “Change of scenery, more than anything. When you see the same few things all the time it gets terribly dull. I like to see and experience as much as I can, it makes life more interesting. Though I will admit your brother’s constant shenanigans do good job of keeping me on my toes.”

Ophelia chuckled at the mention of her brother Sieg. In the past few years he’d turned into an absolute clown. Morgaine often thought, as much of a showman as he was turning into, he would have been absolutely perfect in the minstrel career he’d originally wanted for himself. But he was firmly on the path to knighthood now, and in the coming spring he’d take his tests to be promoted from page to squire- something he couldn’t wait for.

Her daughter, on the other hand, still wasn’t sure what path she wanted to take in life. Ophelia was clever, loved reading and learning, and though she had a tendency towards being rather more blunt about her opinions than was prudent she was very easy to like. Morgaine knew the young half-elven girl would go wonderful places when she was older. But for now Ophelia was content to spend her free time helping her mother around the shop in Nid’aigle and the market stall in Kolanth, and Morgaine was not in the least averse to having the help.

“Excuse me?” a soft, male voice said, and Morgaine looked up to see a brown haired boy who looked to be about fifteen or so standing in front of the stall. “Are you Mistress Braham, the locksmith?”

“I most certainly am,” Morgaine replied genially, standing up. “What can I do for you, young sir?”

He coughed softly. “My dad runs the tavern in town, he, ah… he said you know him?”

The locksmith laughed outright at this. “Oh yes, he and I go way back. What’s the man need from me then? He knows I’m dry now, so I hope he wasn’t trying to lure me back into old habits.”

The young boy flushed a bit, the look in his pale green eyes distinctly uncomfortable. “W-well a thief broke into the tavern through one of our windows and stole a lot of our best vintages, so he wants to have a lock put on the inside of all the windows so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Ah, I see,” Morgaine said amiably. “I’m sorry to hear about the theft, but your request sounds simple enough. Is there a time that’s good for me to meet with him to discuss the terms? I can swing by today after market’s done if he’s free.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you Mistress Braham,” the boy said, bowing his head to her. “I hope your business is good.”

“Thanks; good day to you as well!” she called after him as he fled. Turning to her daughter she said, “Can you write down on that slate that we need to stop at the tavern before we leave town? I don’t want to for… Ophelia?”

Morgaine realized only belatedly that the half-elf didn’t seem to be paying her any mind. Ophelia was still watching the young man as he trotted out of the square, a rather distant look in her sapphire blue eyes. The locksmith cleared her throat noisily, startling her daughter out of whatever daze she was in.

“Oh, uh, sorry Mama, what were you saying?” she asked. Morgaine quirked an amused eyebrow.

“I was asking you to make note of the fact that we have a window commission to settle before we leave town,” she repeated. Then, switching to Elvish so that none of the people in the square except Ophelia would understand, she added, “He’s a cute kid.”

Ophelia’s cheeks went scarlet. “Mother!” she exclaimed in the same language. “I’m not… I-I wasn’t…”

“Of course you weren’t,” Morgaine interrupted, amused. “You were just thinking of all the nice money his daddy is going to pay us for fixing those windows, right? That’s why you were staring at his back like Mercury stares at a whole, uncooked trout?”

The half-elf blushed even harder. Covering her face, she muttered, “Alright, fine. He’s cute. I said it, are you happy? It’s not the first time I’ve seen him in town, but I just… I don’t know what I’d even say to him. I mean, he’s a human and I’m a half-elf, and I’m only thirteen I’d look like a child to him.”

Morgaine shrugged, a bemused look on her face. “Crushes happen when you’re a teenager, Ophee. It’s up to you what you want to do about it. But I personally wouldn’t sweat the half-elf thing. If you spend your entire life being self-conscious about that, you’re never going to work up the courage to talk to any of the guys you like.”

The young girl sighed. “Have I mentioned I hate it when you’re right?”

“A time or two,” the locksmith said with a wink. “Honestly Ophelia, yes you’re half elf, but you’re also half human. If you want to ask the kid out, ask him out. But I probably would at least wait until your birthday, thirteen is a bit young for this kind of thing.”

Ophelia made a sound that was half laugh, half moan. “My birthday isn’t for another five months, Mama!”

Morgaine smirked. “Tough cookies. Now, if you could write that note for me?”

* * * * *

The rest of the day passed without much incident, and at the end of it Morgaine put all of her supplies away in the back she’d brought along. Once she’d finished packing up, the locksmith and her daughter set off towards the tavern so that Morgaine could finalize the details of the window job. Ophelia was clearly fidgety about going to the tavern and possibly seeing the cute boy again, which Morgaine found endlessly entertaining.

When finally the two of them arrived, Morgaine found the tavern keeper waiting eagerly to receive her.

“Morgaine!” he said cheerfully. “By Woo, I ain’t seen ye since that boy o’ yours was down here back in April. And it was even longer before that- ye needn’t be such a stranger ye know.”

“Aye, but being a merchant and a mother keeps me busy,” the locksmith replied with a grin. “So how about that window of yours?”

As her mother followed the tavern keeper into the back of the store, Ophelia leaned back against the bar, fiddling absently with her braid. Fortunately she and her family were a common enough sight in Kolanth that the people didn’t stare at her for her pointed ears or glimmering eyes anymore, but she still felt somewhat self-conscious. Especially since she could see the tavern keeper’s son sitting at a table by himself, appearing not to be doing anything in particular.

Well she couldn’t ask him out yet, but maybe… maybe she could at least talk to him. He was right there after all, and he seemed nice enough. What was the harm in just walking over to him and saying hi?

She dithered for a few moments more before finally deciding she was going to do it. Taking a deep breath, the half-elf forced herself to toss the braid behind her head, smile, and walk towards the table on the other end of the room where the boy was sitting. She’d made it halfway across the room, when the door of the tavern opened and the boy’s head snapped up. A wide grin split his face, and he stood to greet the person who’d just come in.

“Layla!” he called, picking her up in a hug and swinging her around. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

“Sorry, I got held up at home,” the girl replied, kissing him on the cheek. “You know how daddy is.”

The two of them lingered in the doorway for a few minutes more, before leaving the tavern together- through it all Ophelia remained frozen on the spot where she’d stopped walking, halfway between the bar and the table where the boy had been sitting.

He has a girlfriend.

Ophelia was trembling. She had been afraid of so many possible eventualities that might come from making a try with the boy, but this was not something she’d considered.

Well… well maybe if they split up eventually I-

That was a painfully selfish thought, and Ophelia wanted to smack herself as soon as it crossed her mind. She was not some petty, flighty little airhead to become obsessed with jealousy. She didn’t even know this boy’s name. It wasn’t a big deal.

So why did she feel like she wanted to cry?

The sound of a door creaking open and then rattling shut startled her out of her stupor. “Well, that’s settled,” Morgaine said cheerfully, coming back into the common room. “I’ll be coming back in about two days time to finish up here. For now let’s head… Ophee?”

The woman seemed to notice her daughter’s quivering, and Morgaine’s brown eyes darkened with concern. When the half-elf didn’t respond, Morgaine hesitantly put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Ophelia, is something wrong?”

The girl shook her head. “N-not here,” she said softly. “Let’s just… let’s just go home.”

The locksmith frowned, but nodded. Wordlessly, she and her daughter headed out of the tavern and took the road that would lead them out of Kolanth and back home to Nid’aigle.

As the chatter of the human town faded into silence behind them, Ophelia looked down at her mother. “Mama… Papa once told me that he spent three-hundred years alone before he met you. And… and that’s not uncommon, for elves.”

“Well, yes,” Morgaine replied, looking up at her daughter in confusion. “As long as they live, they feel no rush to get into a relationship before they’re good and ready for it.”

“Yeah, but,” the girl said, “I… don’t feel that way. Maybe it’s because I’m part human, but I think about the future and I don’t… I don’t…”

She swallowed hard, hugging herself around the shoulders, whispering hoarsely. “I don’t want to be alone for hundreds of years, Mama.”

The human woman immediately drew Ophelia into a hug, sympathy crashing over her. It was always an uncertainty with her children, which traits they would take from their father and which from their mother. The locksmith knew they’d grown up painfully starved for the company of other children, living in the elf city, but the idea that they might spend centuries that lonely broke Morgaine’s heart.

“You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman,” she said softly, holding Ophelia close. “I know you’ll find the right person for you. I know you will. In all the wide world there can’t possibly not be someone who would love a girl as special as you are.”

Ophelia didn’t reply. But she held her mother as tightly as Morgaine was holding her, and prayed with all her heard that the locksmith was right.

[Shinko]

And now it's time for something I've been looking forward to for a long time- a four parter of feels that takes place concurrently to Knight Adventures- Ophelia goes to Medieville to visit her mother for the very first time in eleven years.

I'll release the parts of this story one each day for the next four days- while it isn't neccesary, for the purposes of refreshing your memory, it might be a good idea to re-read Broken Bridges Part 1, and Call to Adventure, both of which directly set up for the events in this fic.

As far as timeline goes, this takes place after Call to Adventure, as well as after the collab fics between Morgaine and Aira, and the roleplay Little Siblings, Big Snakes (there's a lot Morgaine and Ophelia have been getting up to while Sieg and Orrin are in Bern! XD )

And so, without further ado-


Bitter Reunion - Part One (Collabed with Rosalie Dylas (Maddy))

SPOILER: Click to show

The high cliffs of Raven’s Keep rose up over the landscape, confirming that Ophelia Braham’s destination was near at hand. Soon enough she would be renting a room at the inn Sieg had recommended to her, the King’s Arms, and asking the proprietor for directions to the town lock shop. Despite the rather impressive amount of travelling the half-elf had done since becoming a translator and representative for the elves of Nid’aigle, this was the first time she’d been to the Kythian capital of Medieville. She’d always gone out of her way to avoid assignments that would require her to come to this city, knowing that a certain someone she absolutely didn’t want to run into inhabited the place.

She still didn’t really want to see the person in question, but here she was anyway.

Come on Ophelia, you can do this, she told herself sternly. For Sieg’s sake, at least try to make this work.

It was so hard though. Resentment was a weight on the half-elf’s chest, so heavy she felt like she could scarcely breathe. She’d tried so long to help her mother through the grief they’d all been struggling with, only to have those efforts flung back in her face when Morgaine abandoned her children for this thrice-cursed city. Why should Ophelia have to be the one to extend the olive branch, when she was the one owed an apology?

This. Is. For. Sieg. she thought, gritting her teeth. Her brother was the only family she had left, and she’d do anything for his sake. Even if she didn’t care to ever see the locksmith again, she knew Sieg didn’t share that sentiment. It hurt him to see Ophelia and Morgaine so at odds, and the half-elven woman had promised him she would at least talk to Morgaine while he was on his adventures in Bern.

And the truth was… part of her did miss her mother terribly. The problem was that the person who’d left Nid’aigle over a decade ago hadn’t felt like the formidable mother Ophelia knew and loved. That woman was a feeble, broken stranger who would rather abandon her children and run away from her grief like a coward than move on for the sake of the family she had still living. Sieg insisted that Morgaine had come around, that she had become like her old self again, but after all this time Ophelia didn’t dare set her hopes too high. She’d already been disappointed by Morgaine once- she would guard her heart much more closely this time around.

* * * * *

There was a loud hiss as steam erupted from the bucket of cold water Morgaine and Rosalie kept beside the forge for their smithing. Morgaine carefully manipulated her tongs to pull out the loop she had just shaped for what was to eventually be a padlock, scrutinizing it carefully. Satisfied, she set it on a nearby rack to cool.

“Rosalie, did you need the forge for anything today?” she asked, turning towards her partner. “If not I’m going to put out the fire for now, it’s too hot to keep it burning unnecessarily.”

“Nope” Rosie told her partner, sitting at her work bench. She was smiling happily at her handy work. “I’m just tweaking this one, one last time.”

Morgaine nodded, and took the bucket of water she’d previously been using to cool her lock parts to dump over the fire. Once she’d made sure that there were no embers left burning below the surface, the old woman stood and stretched.

“Not a bad day’s work,” she commented. “Been a while since I saw any new commissions, but with any luck this is only a temporary dry spell. I’ll have to-”

There was a jingling of the bell over the door, and Morgaine looked around in surprise. Usually they kept the shop closed while the forge was running, so no one foolish was mucking around the shop when a live fire was lit. The closed sign was on the door, who-

When Morgaine saw the face of their visitor, however, she let out a small squeak of surprise. Standing at the front of the shop was a tall woman, her long black hair tied back in a braid that reached almost to her waist. Deep sapphire blue eyes stared back at the locksmith, though it was impossible to tell from those eyes what the newcomer might be thinking. But most striking was her ears- they were tapered at the top, coming to thin points.

“Hello, Mother,” she said, her voice deliberately, calculatedly calm. The locksmith stared back, shock and disbelief seeming to paralyze her voice.

“O… Ophe… lia…” Morgaine finally managed to stammer, still not quite daring to believe her own eyes.

Rosie was slightly confused by Morgaine’s squeak. She got up from her work bench and hurried to the door, to make sure it wasn’t someone scary or something. A lump caught in Rosalie’s throat. There stood a very lovely elven women. Ophelia? That was what Morgaine had said. That was… Sieg had said….

Rosie just stared at her. She shouldn’t be here. She should just go away. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t….. Rosie bit her lip. Maybe if they didn’t say anything she’d just go away.

Ophelia glanced in Rosalie’s direction, and her mouth curled down at the corners. This must be the keymaker that she’d heard about. Turning away from the young girl, she met Morgaine’s eyes squarely.

“So, not even a hello?” she asked softly, her voice carefully neutral. “Eleven years it’s been, and you aren’t even going to greet your long lost daughter?”

The locksmith winced, but tentatively took a step towards the half-elven woman. “Ophee, I-”

“Don’t call me that,” Ophelia snapped, her cool facade cracking momentarily. She smoothed her expression over again, and adopted a patently false smile. “I’m here because Sieg asked me to be, not by my own choice. He seems to think you’ve changed. So tell me, have you?”

Rosalie gripped her dress tightly. She closed her eyes. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. Go away.

She raised her head, opened her eyes, and glared at Ophelia. “Go away,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “We don’t need you here, go away!”

“Rosie, please I-” Morgaine started, but Ophelia was quicker.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t talking to you,” she said coolly, glaring right back. “I was talking to my mother, whom I’ve every right to address. If she would like to ask me to leave, to kick me out of her life again, she may do so. Until then, mind your own business.”

The locksmith gritted her teeth. She knew Rosalie wouldn’t respond well to that, and she shook her head frantically. “Ophelia, please, don’t try to order her around, she doesn’t like it.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for her to tell me to leave, but when I ask her to butt out I get lectured? I see how it is,” the elven woman said, her hands shaking.

“That’s not what I meant!” Morgaine objected.

Rosie looked at the woman with disgust, “She doesn’t want you here!” Rosie said angrily, “No one wanted you here! Just go AWAY!” She stomped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum, “LEAVE!”

“Rosalie, I never said I didn’t want her here!” Morgaine said, though there wasn’t much of the sternness that would normally have been present in her voice. Instead she sounded frantic, like she were juggling hot coals on a thin beam in each hand and at any moment they might fall off and burn her. “Please calm down a minute, both of you!”

Ophelia, quirked an eyebrow at Rosalie’s outburst, but didn’t seem terribly impressed by it. She instead turned to Morgaine. “I’m listening.”

The locksmith shook her head. “Ophelia, I’m sorry about what happened, I’m sorry about before. It was stupid, and selfish, and short-sighted of me. You were right, and I didn’t listen, and I’m…” her voice was very small, and sounded more than half sob. “I’m sorry.”

Rosalie looked at Morgaine, stunned. “W-w-hat are you saying? That you WANT her here??” She felt tears roll down her face. She wasn’t sure if they were angry tears or sad tears. Maybe both.

“Y-y-you” she had lost her words. Morgaine didn’t need her if she had Ophelia. Why would Morgaine need some girl from Bern if she had her daughter? Why would she want Rosalie to stay? Where would she go? She had her Lawernce but- She felt a whimper escape her mouth.

“You- you don’t NEED her.” Rosie said quickly, “Make her go away!!”

Ophelia turned towards Rosalie, exasperated. “Why are you crying? This has nothing to do with you, I’m just trying to talk to my mother about some personal family matters. If anyone needs to butt the ‘Pit out, it’s you, little girl.”

“What did you call me??” Rosie shouted.

“Please, stop it both of you!” Morgaine said. “Rosalie, you did this same thing with Sieg, and we already had this conversation, why are you doing this again? I haven’t seen Ophelia in eleven years, I just-”

“I called you what you are,” Ophelia interrupted angrily. “I hadn’t even done anything and you were shouting at me to leave like a petulant child, and you just keep repeating that same note like some mocker-bird. What have you even got against me anyway? I’ve never met you!”

Rosalie ignored Morgaine, and glared at Opehlia. “Morgaine doesn’t need you anymore! She has me! So go away!”

“Oh, is that so?” the half-elf asked. “Alright, Mummy Dearest, is that true then? If you don’t want me around I’ll go, I wouldn’t want to come between you and this charming young miss you’ve adopted.”

“Why are you both being like this?” Morgaine asked, sounding both exasperated and pained. “Rosalie is Rosalie and Ophelia is Ophelia, stop acting like I have to chose one or the other! I love both of you!”

Rosie turned to Morgaine, ignoring Ophelia, “I guess…. if you want to love both of us... I don’t see why’d you want to love HER though. Not much to love.” Rosie shrugged, “But if that’s what you want…”

Ophelia rolled her eyes, “Hark who’s talking. I’m not the one who started screaming to ‘go away’ the minute someone I don’t even know walked in.”

“I know you,” Rosalie said angrily, “You’re Ophelia and you don’t belong here!”

The half-elven woman took a deep, shuddering breath, then slowly let it out. “I’m here because my brother, who I understand is a very good friend of yours, asked me to be. I’m here because I wanted to give my mother a chance to prove she really has changed, and to let her apologize for abandoning me and Sieg like yesterday’s trash eleven years ago because we were not as precious to her as our father was. I may not belong here, but neither does she-” at this Ophelia pointed to Morgaine, who had buried her face in her hands and seemed to be trying very hard not to cry.

“Maybe she threw you out like yesterday’s trash because you ARE.” Rosie yelled, no longer calm, “Sieg doesn’t need you, Morgaine doesn’t need you, nobody needs you! So just go away! We were fine without you, so just leave Morgaine alone!”

“Both of you, just STOP IT!” Morgaine shrieked, her voice cracking. The tears she’d been fighting back boiled over, streaking from her single eye as her entire body shivered. “I’m, I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, it was m-m-my fault, stop, s-stop fighting, p-p-please, I…”

She choked, unable to get another coherent word out. Darting around Ophelia, she bolted out the door and down the road.

“Wha, hey, wait!” Ophelia called, looking both surprised and angry. “Don’t run away again!”

Rosalie didn’t try to stop her. She just watched. She glanced at Ophelia, then quickly left the room. Ophelia could stay there for all she cared. She didn’t care anymore. She just wanted to hide under the covers and pretend this didn’t happen. She just wanted to pretend everything was ok. Even if it wasn’t.

Ophelia watched as Rosalie left the room without so much as a word, and scowled. She’d wanted so badly to just keep it together, to try and at least be civil about this for Sieg’s sake, but somehow that girl had pushed all of her wrong buttons, and brought the anger and resentment bubbling to the surface. And faced with that anger, her mother had run away. Again.

This was a mistake, she thought bitterly, turning and shoving the door open with far more force than was necessary. I should have stayed home.

[Shinko]

Bitter Reunion - Part Two (Collabed with Tiger)

SPOILER: Click to show

It was a lot later than Leif usually liked to run errands, but to his relief the streets weren’t as jam-packed as he would have expected. The heat was probably keeping a lot of people indoors whenever possible, and by this time some merchants would be closing up shop anyway. Hopefully that didn’t include the leather-worker; Leif had been meaning to repair one of Hadrian’s jesses for a few days now, but other obligations kept getting in the way.

For once, though, he wasn’t hurrying to get the task done with. The heat was rather nice, especially after how long it had taken spring to really gain ground, and without so many people around, he didn’t feel the need to get off the street so quickly. It seemed like it was going to be a quiet, uneventful evening.

Quiet and uneventful for Leif perhaps, but for Morgaine what had started off as a similarly routine end to another day had quickly degenerated into a disaster. She had not been expecting the daughter she’d fallen out with thirteen years prior to show up out of the blue. Then Rosalie had gotten jealous, and both of them had started screaming and flinging accusations at each other and and he locksmith, and she didn’t even have time to even try to process the situation before it had spiraled wildly out of control. The guilt Morgaine already felt over the falling out with Ophelia over a decade prior and the very unpleasant impression that she’d gotten off of both girls that she’d end up having to chose one or the other had been far too much for her to deal with. Despite several attempts to diffuse the situation, in the end all she’d been overwhelmed, and desperate to escape the guilt and the heartbreak that every second in the lockshop was compounding, Morgaine had fled.

She wasn’t even paying attention to where she was going- she just ran down the street, hands covering her face as tears streamed from her one good eye. How had this happened, it had just come out of nowhere, she’d wanted to make up with Ophelia but this was all wrong, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be!

It wasn’t until she ran practically full-tilt into someone else’s back that her stride was finally checked. With a wet, watery cry of surprise she stumbled backwards, losing her balance so that she fell with a thump on the street.

For once, Leif hadn’t been paying much attention to his surroundings, choosing instead to glance up toward the roofs and the distant treetops in the hopes of maybe spotting an interesting bird. So he had just barely registered that there was an odd sound coming from behind him, and hadn’t even gotten a chance to start turning around when that same something hit his back. With a startled noise that started as a surprised yelp and ended up a sharp intake of breath, Leif staggered forward a few steps before getting his balance and turning sharply.

“...Mrs. Braham?” Leif’s brief agitation at being run into was quickly brushed aside by confusion and worry. “Mrs. Braham, what’s wrong?” He stepped back toward her, already feeling a nervous queasiness. This was the same woman who’d lost an eye and often barely seemed bothered by it - if something had dissolved her to tears, it must be something exceptionally bad.

Morgaine recognized the voice, and she winced inwards on herself. “M-Master Leif, I’m, I’m sorry, I wasn’t w-watching where I was g-g-going. I’m, I’m f-fine, I… I…”

A soft whimper cut her off, and she buried her face in her hands once more. “I’m s-such an i-idiot, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“I - no, it’s - it’s fine, Mrs. Braham…” Leif felt very off-balance, even more so than usual in a conversation. “It was an accident.” He started to hold out a hand to help her up, but considering she had her face buried in her own hands, that was going to be a pointless gesture.

Leif had no illusions about how qualified he was to comfort somebody in severe emotional distress - but it didn’t look like there was anybody around who was going to take his place doing that. He’d have to do the best he could and hope it didn’t just make things worse.

He stooped awkwardly beside her. “Are you okay?” he asked, which was a stupid question, because obviously she wasn’t. “What happened?” That was...better, at least.

She shook her head, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. “I… It’s a l-long story, and I d-don’t want to h-hold you up, I’m sure you were busy.”

“It can wait - I’ve already been putting it off a few days, and Hadrian can just deal with his current jesses.” Like Leif was just going to leave her in the street like this. Even he wasn’t that bad.

It took him a few long seconds to make the leap in logic that they didn’t actually have to stay in the street. “Here...“ He held out his hand this time. “Why don’t we get out of the road. I’m - I’m sure it’s not comfortable to sit on,” he added.

Reassured somewhat to have bumped into one of her friends who was making sense and not acting on hysterical impulses, Morgaine bit her lip and nodded. She let Leif help her stand, and guide her to a small stand of trees off the main square of the market. There was a stone bench set under the trees, and she sat down next to him on it with a soft sigh.

“I…” she began hesitantly. “I suppose the best place to start is thirteen years ago. You… you know I’m a widow. That was when my husband passed away. It hit me… hard. I was so broken by it, so devastated that I completely shut myself off from the rest of reality. Sieg was about sixteen at that time, and his younger sister, my daughter Ophelia, was fourteen. It was hard for them, having just lost their father and with me… not entirely accessible. Ophelia more or less took over being in charge of the family and looking after all of us, despite being so young. But time went by and I just…. I couldn’t move on, I couldn’t let go, it hurt too much.”

She waved a hand around the street, taking in the Medieville marketplace. “Two years after he passed, I decided to leave Nid’aigle. Being there, where we’d lived for so long, I couldn’t bear it. There were too many memories. So I bought the shop where I live now, and told Sieg and Ophelia I’d be moving to Medieville. By that time Sieg was eighteen and Ophelia was sixteen, and I figured they would both be fine; Sieg was a squire and on his way to knighthood, and Ophelia was learning to be a translator. But… I was s-stupid.”

The old woman was shaking again, her face and voice awash with guilt and bitterness. “When I told Ophelia what I had planned to do she… she got angry. She said that I was, I was abandoning my children, that I was running away like a coward. She told me I was blind and stupid and that I was completely ignoring how hard it all was on her and Sieg and thinking only about myself and my pain. Th-that I…”

She whimpered again, covering her face with her hands. “Th-that I loved their f-father more than I l-loved them, and that I’d n-never care about them the same way I did for my h-husband. I tried to argue b-but I just, I couldn’t, there was n-nothing I could say and I didn’t really think she meant it, I thought… but she was so angry, and I… Sieg still sent me letters but I never once, not in eleven years heard from Ophelia, my daughter, my baby.”

Her throat closed, and she leaned forwards with a sob.

Leif listened quietly, guessing there was probably nothing he could say that would help, at least not until he’d heard the whole story. It was...strange, thinking of Morgaine being broken and absorbed in grief. But it had been the death of her spouse, that was bound to hurt worse than any sort of physical pain no matter how tough a person you were otherwise.

Partially distracting Leif from that strangeness, however, was an uncomfortable sort of...recognition, maybe? He wasn’t sure what exactly to call it, just that it almost felt like a reverse version of Leif’s family history. Except...without the death. And he’d been the one to leave, not his parents. And he had a hard time imagining either parent being anything except angry over it. ...Maybe it wasn’t as similar as his emotions were telling him.

And it is a whole different set of circumstances, he reminded himself. Mrs. Braham and Sieg and...Ophelia were grieving - that doesn’t make people act like themselves. Especially when you’re still in the same place with all the same things around.

This was also really not the time for Leif to be worrying about or even comparing his past issues. His problems were in the past. Clearly, however, that wasn’t the case with Morgaine’s family troubles.

He hesitated, but put a tentative hand on Morgaine’s shoulder as she started to cry again. “I’m sorry,” he said. It wouldn’t do much good, his being sorry for what had happened, but he didn’t think pressing Morgaine about what had brought all this back was a good idea; better to let her do it in her own time, if she felt comfortable talking about it at all.

Morgaine put a hand up to he one Leif had put on her shoulder, squeezing his gloved hand gently with her rough, calloused one. For several minutes she just cried, not able to continue her narrative around the emotions battering her from the inside. Finally, however, she was able to throttle them back and get a hold of herself again.

“When, when I took in Rosalie, she was what finally woke me up. You know how she is, always cheerful but not all there most of the time. She was so naive, and I felt like someone had to look after her so she didn’t get herself into trouble. It gave me a reason to go on, to pay attention to the rest of the world again. So when I saw Sieg again last summer, for the first time in a long time I was looking at him with a clear head. And… and I realized Ophelia was right. That smile he always has, that eternally sunny disposition, it was all fake, just a ruse to hide how much he was still hurting after his father’s death and my leaving. I felt… so ashamed, like such a horrible mother, for not having seen it sooner. I managed to patch it up with him, but he was never really angry with me in the first place. The one who was, the one I desperately wanted to make amends with… was the last person who’d ever want anything to do with me again. At least that’s what I thought.”

She looked up at Leif, a world of pain in her eyes. “She came to the shop today- my daughter, Ophelia. I didn’t know she was coming, but from what she said I gather Sieg asked her to try and make up with me before he left for Bern. I could see it in her eyes, that she was still angry, but she was trying at least to be civil… but then there was Rosie.”

The locksmith swallowed hard. “She’s so jealous, so selfish a lot of the time. She hates to share anyone’s affections, and sees anyone who seems to be competition for those affections as a replacement. She didn’t even really give Ophelia time to say much, she just started screaming at her to leave. I tried to defuse it, but both of them kept getting angrier and angrier and not just at each other but at me too, and I, I just couldn’t…”

She clenched her hands into fists in her lap. “It’s all my fault, I brought this on myself. I was stupid, and selfish, and a horrible mother. But I just don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t take it back, and I don’t want to lose Ophelia again now that she’s finally tried to talk to me but I…” she clenched her teeth, her eyes shimmering. “I don’t want to lose Rosie either, she’s like my daughter too, in her own way, and she helped me to really live again, I owe her so much. I don’t know what to do.”

Leif breathed out slowly, not with impatience, but just trying to take a moment to fully process the whole story. “Well...obviously you shouldn’t have to chose between them. That’s ridiculous - I know Rosalie’s...er, over-the-top with her emotions, sometimes, but even she can’t realistically expect to be the only important person in your life. ...That’s not even fair on her part, she has a boyfriend. Surely you’re allowed to have things like blood relatives.”

Realizing he was starting to go on a tangent, Leif forced himself to stop and refocus. “But - I don’t know, Mrs. Braham. It’s….that’s hard for both you and Ophelia.” He looked down at his boots, frowning. “I know you can’t take it back, but, you were in mourning. She had to be, too, in her own way. And you’re both better now than back then - or I’m guessing Ophelia is, anyway? If she came up to see you…” Leif shook his head slightly. “I guess all you can do is keep trying to talk to her. ...Probably away from Rosalie. But if you keep trying...she can only deny that it means something for so long.”

Morgaine was surprised to find a small smile quirk at the corner of her mouth as Leif tried to ramble his way through advising her on the situation. By now she’d learned he wasn’t exactly the most socially adept individual, but he had a good heart and the fact that he was willing to try to help despite his own awkwardness meant a lot.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached around his shoulders to pull him into a brief hug. “Thank you- for listening to my rambles and for trying to help.” She let him go, her eyes glistening again though her voice was steady and surprisingly amused when she spoke. “I know it must be hard, trying to confront problems that aren’t related to magery or falconry. But I’m glad you did.”

Leif froze for a moment when Morgaine hugged him, but managed to snap himself out of it and return the gesture - a little awkwardly, probably, but better than usual. “I wish this was the kind of problem I could throw Ayleth or a spell at. ...I don’t think either one would help, or I’d offer,” he added wryly. “Is...is there anything I can do, though? Like...I don’t know, distract Rosalie? Or…”

Morgaine sighed, but shook her head. “If I’m going to corner Ophelia before she leaves, likely the best place to do that is the inn, which I imagine she’s staying at. Rosalie doesn’t ever go anymore because Kelcey Kidde’s ghost freaks her out- little known fact, he flirted with her at the feast last summer while in the guise of a Courdonian noble and scared her half to death, so she told Aines that he should behead Kelcey. Then the real Courdonians actually did.”

“Oh,” Leif stammered, having not expected ghosts to come up in this particular conversation. “I - I guess that’s a good place to go, then.” Leif had heard rumors about a ghost in the King’s Arms, and since they concerned the ghost in question having come into his afterlife on the orders of the Courdonian king, it was the sort of gossip Leif actually paid some attention to. He hadn’t heard about Rosalie’s experience with him, though...or that he’d been disguised as a Courdonian noble at the feast. Well - I guess that explains where “Prince Joram” disappeared to during the Coronation, he thought. “So - are you going after her, then?”

The locksmith nodded, though there was uncertainty in her eyes. “I have to try. She’s… she’s my daughter, my baby. It’s hard to explain, but I birthed her, I held her in my arms when she was an infant, consoled her when she was frightened or upset, and nursed her when she was ill… she’s like a part of my own soul. I can’t just do nothing.”

“Of course,” Leif agreed, his gaze flicking away. “She’s your daughter.”

Morgaine noticed the slight shift in the Jade’s demeanor, but decided not to press him on it. This wasn’t really the time or the place, and she didn’t know how long Ophelia would linger after that blowout with Rosalie. The half-elf had never been one to stay in a place where she obviously wasn’t wanted.

Instead, the locksmith reached out a hand and gently squeezed Leif’s shoulder. “I should go, but… thank you again.”

Realizing his eyes had shifted, Leif looked back to Morgaine. “Of course. And I hope it all goes well, Mrs. Braham.”

[Shinko]

Bitter Reunion - Part Three (Collabed with Gelquie and Elcie)

SPOILER: Click to show

By the time Ophelia made it back to the inn where she’d left her belongings earlier, she was on the edge of tears herself. She’d told herself she wouldn’t get her hopes up, that she’d stay stoney and expectant of nothing, but she just hadn’t managed it. Some small traitorous part of her had hoped things would go well. Maybe, just maybe…

But of course they hadn’t. Morgaine had her cute little key brat, and as Rosalie had said, she didn’t need Ophelia anymore.

Good riddance then, the half-elf thought bitterly. If you’re just going to run away and let that thing you adopted insult me, I don’t need you either!

She flung open the door to the inn, and squinting against the stinging in her eyes, and stalked up to the counter.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but there’s been a change of plans,” she said thickly, anger plain in her voice. “I won’t be staying tonight- I’m going home. But as an apology you may keep the price of my stay for the night.”

The sound of the door slamming open made Ilsa jump, looking up sharply from where she was chatting with Clare across the bar. “Ophelia?” she said, concerned. She had spoken with the half-elf earlier - only briefly, but it was enough to establish that she was Morgaine’s daughter. It was enough of a connection to be concerned by Ophelia’s distress. The innkeeper straightened up and hurried around the bar to meet her. “Is everything all right? It’s a little late in the day to start the journey south.”

Clare glanced over at the half-elven girl, curious and concerned by the girl’s apparent anger. She didn’t recognize the girl, but there was something about the way she looked, particularly with her ears and hair that made her wonder. Not wanting to interrupt yet, she merely watched them, a concerned frown on her face.

Ophelia laughed bitterly at Ilsa’s question, refusing to meet the innkeeper’s eyes. “Oh, nothing less than exactly what I expected. It’s been thirteen years and she hasn’t changed a bit- still the same coward she was before. Besides, as her little friend so delicately put it, she doesn’t need me. So I’m going home.”

Clare raised an eyebrow, wondering who she was talking about. Given the way she looked… It couldn’t be, could it? She couldn’t be talking about Morgaine, of all people. “Who?” she asked before she caught herself.

Ophelia tensed, glancing at the woman who’d spoken. “I don’t see how it’s any of your buisness, madame.”

Clare paused. “Sorry. I was just wondering if it might be someone I know.” She had a skeptical look on her face as she said this, though, wondering if she might be mistaken after all.

Ilsa glanced between Clare and Ophelia before speaking. “You mean Morgaine?” she said to Ophelia, keeping her tone purposefully light. “I wouldn’t normally think of her as a coward. Tends to speak her mind more often than not.”

Ophelia scowled. “That’s how she was when I was younger- maybe that’s the face she wears for you now. But she changed after father died, and decided that running away from her problems was the best way to handle them- she’s been doing it for over a decade. I don’t suppose she ever mentioned it to you? Of course not, because that would mean owning up to it.” The girl sighed, deflating somewhat. “I’m glad at least that for you she can be the mother I once respected-but she stopped being that person in my eyes a long time ago, and she proved just now that she hasn’t moved an inch since then.”

Clare frowned, glancing over at Ilsa. What the young girl had said confirmed what she had thought, but she still wore a frown. “I can’t speak for what she did then, but I don’t think that’s how she is now. I bring it up because I know her too. When I first spoke to her, she didn’t seem like that.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how she acts around you, true. But I can’t think of what she could have done to you today to prove that.”

Ophelia gave Clare a thoughtful look. “Seems she’s made a lot of friends for herself in this city. I guess she found what she was looking for when she left Nid’aigle then.”

The girl shrugged. “She didn’t do anything- that’s the problem. I went to the shop and hadn’t even been there for two minutes when her friend, the little blonde girl, started screaming at me to leave. She said, if you please, that I should ‘go away’ and Morgaine ‘doesn’t need me.’ My dear, beloved mother made a few token efforts to stop her from screaming, and when I got angry that the kid wouldn’t stop, Morgaine ran off.”

There was a profound bitterness in the half-elf’s voice as she added, “I guess the fact that she has people waiting in the inn to stand up for her is proof that the kid was right. She doesn’t need me; she has her own life here now, so I’ll leave her to it. That’s what she wanted.”

Ilsa frowned, leaning on the counter. “I don’t know if I’d hold Morgaine responsible for what her partner had to say,” she said slowly. “She’s a fine keymaker to be sure, Rosie is, but there’s no doubt she’s a little…” She winced. “Not always the wisest. But, all the same… I’m sorry it went so badly.” She gave the half-elf a smile, sympathetic. “Your mother’s been a good friend to me, Ophelia, that is true,” the innkeeper said. “But I’d never claim to replace her family.”

Clare considered. “And I don’t think she wants to, really. I am sorry for what happened back there. All the same, I think she does care. I’ve seen how she acts around her son, when he’s around. And they’ve been there for each other, and speak fondly of each other... From what I’ve heard from her, I think she does miss her family. And all the friends in the world won’t fill that gap.”

Ophelia looked to the side, her eyes narrowing. “Then why did she not come home once, in eleven years?”

“I don’t think Clare or Ilsa can really answer that question for you,” a soft, age-roughened voice interrupted from the doorway. “But if you’re willing to hear me out without Rosalie’s jealousy complicating a conversation that’s hard enough for me to have to begin with, maybe I can.”

Ophelia spun around, her shoulders hitching up. “How did you get here so fast? I thought you ran off somewhere crying.”

“I did,” Morgaine said. “But once I’d calmed down I came here directly- and I’ve lived here over a decade, I’ve learned the shortcuts and how to navigate the crowds at different times of day.”

The old woman glanced at Clare and Ilsa with a tired smile. “I’m sorry, you must both be… confused. It’s a long story, and I’m not as blameless in it as you’d probably like to believe I am.”

“I already gave you another chance,” Ophelia said, her shoulders trembling. “You tossed it away because you couldn’t handle it. Why should I try again?”

Clare watched the exchange, with a confused look on her face indeed. But she interjected all the same. “Having a talk about something like that is something you two should do alone. Having someone else interjecting for something like this will just make it harder for both of you to explain. And it sounds like it has.”

“I don’t want to talk to her,” Ophelia snapped. “What good will it do when Rosalie’s made it perfectly clear that it’s me or her? What are you going to do Mom, who are you going to walk out on this time? Because I don’t think she’s going to let you say ‘neither.’”

Morgaine flinched. “I need a chance to talk to her- she’s not unreasonable, she’s just… stubborn. Stubborn and very selfish.”

“Gee, that sounds familiar,” Ophelia growled, and the old woman looked away. A trace of exasperation edged into Ophelia’s tone as she added, “And stop cowering away from me like I’m going to hit you. You want to prove to me that you’re the mother I remember? Act like her. She wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all me!”

Ilsa watched, fascinated in spite of herself. This wasn’t like Morgaine at all. Ophelia, on the other hand… despite her anger, and the fact that she certainly wouldn’t want to hear this right now, her staunch stubbornness distinctly reminded the innkeeper of her mother.

“So you don’t want to talk to her,” Ilsa said. “Fine. But why should you let young Rosie have the final say? This isn’t her business.” Neither was it Ilsa’s, technically, but the innkeeper easily dismissed this thought, crossing her arms. “Nid’aigle’s a fair distance, you’d be wasting the trip. And correct me if I’m wrong, but from what I know of your mother and your brother, I wouldn’t have thought any Braham had it in them to back down so easily.”

Ophelia jerked back from Ilsa’s remark, her eyes narrowing. How could she even explain? That Morgaine had abandoned her own children, then took in Rosalie like it was nothing, that Rosalie called herself Sieg’s sister and he clearly thought of her likewise… The way Rosalie had spoken was just confirmation of what Ophelia had felt deep down in her gut when she first heard from Sieg about the girl in one of their mother’s letters- she was a replacement. A shiny new daughter Morgaine could look after that wasn’t a constant reminder of Belial.

But she didn’t want to admit it. Besides, such a confession would mean nothing to this woman, who didn’t even really understand the rift between Ophelia and Morgaine.

“I didn’t back down easily,” she said finally. “I spent two years being the head of the family, nursing my mother through depression and my brother through guilt and self-loathing, when I was still too young to even legally marry. I tried to be patient, and it came to nothing. I wore myself out waiting.”

“Ophelia,” Morgaine said softly. “I’m sorry- I can’t express that enough. You’re right, and you are perfectly entitled to be angry and hold a grudge. But Ilsa also has a point. You came all this way- you said because Sieg asked you to. Even if you don’t want to forgive me, even if Rosalie refuses to come around, will you at least hear me out? For his sake?”

The half-elf looked away, hesitating, and Morgaine added imploringly, “Please Ophee.”

At the old nickname, Ophelia bit her lip. “Don’t call me that. But fine. I’ll stay in own one more day- but you’d better get that little brat to chill, because I really don’t want to deal with her bull a second time.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Morgaine assured the girl. “Ophelia, thank you.”

With a noncommittal grunt, the younger woman turned away, and walked up the stairs towards the private area of the inn. The old woman sighed, rubbing the back of her head and looking over to Clare and Ilsa.

“I’m sorry about all that. It’s… complicated.”

Clare frowned, a concerned look on her face. “It sounds like it,” she said.

Ilsa sighed, scratching the back of her head. “You… okay?” she said.

“No,” Morgaine admitted with her usual bluntness. “But it’s my own fault, so I can’t really blame Ophelia for feeling the way she does. Frankly I’m surprised she came out here at all- I don’t think anyone but Sieg could have talked her into it, the two of them have gotten very close since their father died.”

The locksmith grinned shakily. “I’ve made some pretty stupid mistakes in my lifetime, and I’m paying for them. But thank you, both of you. I don’t know if I could have calmed her down enough to get her to stay on my own.”

Clare gave a sympathetic, yet sad smile in return. “I’m just glad we could do something,” she said. “I don’t know the full story… But I do hope you two work something out. Or at least get a chance to talk to each other about it.” She sighed. “And I hope you get a chance to talk to Rosalie too. That wasn’t fair what she did.”

Ilsa nodded her agreement, looking annoyed. “Rosalie Dylas is a sweet girl but she needs to think on occasion before opening her mouth.” She smiled reassuringly at Morgaine. “I hope you can work things through with your daughter, Morgaine. Seems you both deserve a chance to be heard in full.”

Morgaine rolled her eye, a slightly tired smirk on her face. “Rosalie thinking before she acts- that’ll be the day. I think I can talk her around, I just need to get her over this jealousy complex she has. Ophelia is another can of worms entirely but… one thing at a time.”

The old woman hesitated, then hugged Ilsa, releasing her and turning to hug Clare. “I really am sorry you two had to get involved in this, but thank you for your help. It means more to me than I can really say. I promise, I’ll explain all of this to you, but I just want to work it out with Ophee first.”

Clare returned the hug in full. “I understand. Business with your family comes first. We can wait. Until then, we’ll be around.”

Ilsa looked sympathetic as she returned Morgaine’s hug. “Well, you know you can always come talk to us. I hope she comes around, Morgaine.”

[Shinko]

Bitter Reunion - Part Four (Collabed with Rosalie Dylas (Maddy))

SPOILER: Click to show

When Morgaine climbed the stairs of the lock shop and approached the door to Rosalie’s bedroom, she found that Mercury and Rust were both sitting outside the door. The looked up at the locksmith when she approached, rubbing against her skirts and pawing at the door to be let in- they must have wanted to check on Rosalie after the shouting match earlier.

Shaking her head at the animals, Morgaine reached out and gently knocked on the door. “Rosie? It’s me; can I please come in?”

Rosalie was sitting angrily on her bed. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying a long time. She HATED Ophelia. Ophelia just wanted to ruin everything. She just wanted to kick Rosie out of Morgaine’s life! She just wanted to- Rosie closed her eyes to keep even more tears forming.

“Fine.” Rosie responded to Morgaine’s request, “If you want to.”

The locksmith pushed the door open gently, and as she did so both cats swarmed into the room around her legs, jumping onto the bed with Rosalie and rubbing against her sides. For her part, Morgaine pulled a small chair out and set it beside the bed, sitting down with a sigh.

“Before I say anything else, I want to make this much abundantly clear- I am not, nor am I ever going to throw you out or replace you. Please understand that. You say all the time I’m not your mother but… you’re like family to me regardless. I never want to hurt you like that.”

Rosie petted Mercury and Rust softly, giving them a small smile, “At least you still need me.” She whispered.

She looked up at Morgaine, “Why do you need me if you have Ophelia?” She asked, her throat tightening, “You don’t!”

Morgaine tilted her head, a very tired expression on her face. “Let’s try that in reverse. Why do you still need me if you have Lawrence?”

Rosie gave her a look, “Because you’re old and I can’t kiss you. That’s different! Lawernce is my boyfriend and you’re my….” She stopped, “My… family…” Rosie finished her thought. She’d never commit to anything else. “That’s two different things! Me and Ophelia are one thing!”

“I disagree,” Morgaine replied simply. “And it doesn’t matter what it might look like to you, because this is my needs and my heart we’re talking about, and I say my heart is big enough for both. Rosalie, Ophelia is my daughter, I gave birth to her and raised her so of course I care about her. But you’re my family too- you saved me from my own grief and taught me how to be happy again. You’re not the same as Ophelia to me, you never were and you never will be.”

Rosalie looked away, “You’re really smart sometimes.” She sighed, “Rosalie isn’t Ophelia, and Ophelia isn’t Rosalie.” Rosalie gave a small smirk “But she wishes she was. Who wouldn’t?”

Rosalie stroked Mercury, who leaned into her touch as Rust settled in her lap, purring. “You’re right. I know you are. You can have a Rosalie and a Ophelia… but... “ Rosie looked at Morgaine, “She HATES me.”

The locksmith looked down, clenching her hands in her lap with a pained expression. “Actually it’s… it’s me she hates.”

“She shouldn’t!” Rosie folded her arms, “But… I’m pretty sure she hates me!”

Morgaine shook her head. “She doesn’t hate you as much as she hates what she thinks you are- she thinks you’re a replacement for her, just like you thought she was for you. Rosalie, a long time ago when my husband died I… I left the place where we’d lived. I just walked away, because I couldn’t take the memories anymore, it hurt too much.”

She started to quiver a bit, the shame obvious on her face. “In leaving, I abandoned Sieg and Ophelia- I didn’t mean to, I thought they would be alright without me, but Ophelia felt differently. She asked me to stay, but I didn’t and… and now she hates me, because in her mind I betrayed her. And she’s not wrong.”

Morgaine squeezed her eye shut. “I was a horrible mother- I deserve whatever scorn she wants to fling at me.”

Rosalie fidgeted on her bed, “We’re kinda the same…” Rosie whispered under her breathe.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I’m really, really sorry. I’ll… I’ll be nice to her! From now on! So you can make up! Ok?”

Morgaine smiled crookedly, though there were still tears shimmering in her eyes. “I hope so, Rosalie… would you be willing to try to talk to her again? Not tonight, I think we all need a chance to cool off, but in the morning. I’m not r-really sure she’ll believe me if I just say I talked to you.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to her.” Rosalie nodded, “If Sieg likes her then she can’t be all bad.” Rosalie smiled thinking of Sieg. Why couldn’t he had come instead of Ophelia? Or with Ophelia? What couldn’t Sieg be an only child? That was mean, she shouldn’t think that. She had to get along with Ophelia from now on, for Morgaine’s sake.

“I’m sure we can be friends.” Or at least civil to each other, Rosalie added mentally.

The locksmith smiled. “Thank you, Rosie.”

* * * * *

It was midmorning of the following day, and Ophelia was waiting on the dock at Lake Plume. Morgaine had sent a message to her, asking her to be there, and as much a she wasn’t thrilled about it, she agreed.

When Morgaine approached, the half-elf glanced up at her. “It’s like the dock at home, behind our old house- only going out into a lake instead of a river.”

The old woman smiled thinly. “I suppose it is.”

Ophelia stood up, looking Rosalie over. “Can we talk without yelling this time?”

“Yeah.” Rosalie mumbled, looking down, “We can. I’m… I’m sorry for yelling before. And saying all those mean things. I shouldn’t have.”

The half-elf crossed her arms, a flicker of amusement flitting across her face. “You sound less than enthusiastic to be here. Not that I don’t relate.” She sobered. “Why did you yell at me in the first place, if I may ask? I hadn’t really even said anything yet.”

“Because- Because I knew who you were and- and I thought you came here to throw me out.” Rosalie still wasn’t looking Ophelia in the eye, “I didn’t want to be thrown out and I thought- I don’t know. It was silly. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. You’re Morgaine’s daughter and she loves you and I shouldn’t have-” Rosie stopped.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Ophelia’s gazed turned inwards when Rosalie asserted that Morgaine loved her, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead she looked towards the locksmith. “You know, I seem to recall that whenever we lost our tempers like that you would give us a lecture.”

“You were my kids,” Morgaine replied. She shot a smirk at Rosalie and gently prodded her. “As I am frequently reminded, I am not Rosie’s mother. She is an adult has no obligation to listen to a word I say.”

Rosie puffed out her cheeks, “That’s right, Morgaine doesn’t control me! Which is why me coming and apologizing is because I want to not because Morgaine told me to!”

The half-elf regarded Rosalie silently for a moment, then she sighed. “I can see why Sieg likes you. You’re a firecracker, even if you have a quick temper.” Ophelia looked down. “I guess that’s why you brought my mother out of her mourning when I couldn’t.”

“Ophee…” Morgaine said pleadingly.

Rosie smiled at the mention of Sieg, “Yeah, Sieg has good tastes.” Rosalie paused, “Well, she’s out of her mourning now, isn’t she? So we can all be friends! We don’t have to be mad at each other. No one is replacing anyone. I’m Rosalie and your Ophelia and there’s room for both of us.”

Ophelia looked uncomfortable at this. She made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a growl of frustration, and with a sigh Morgaine glanced at her partner.

“Rosie, I think you can go now- this is something Ophelia and I need to discuss alone.”

“Oh, ok…” Rosalie smiled at Ophelia, “Bye!”

She then turned around with a twirl of her dress and skipped away.

As soon as the keymaker had vanished from sight, Ophelia turned to her mother. “I still get the impression she’s not my biggest fan.”

“She probably never will be,” Morgaine said with a sigh. “That was not the most auspicious of starts you two got.”

“Not really my fault, that,” Ophelia pointed out dryly.

“No, it was mine,” Morgaine admitted. “I should have taken control of the situation before it got so out of hand. I just… seeing you again, after all this time…”

The half-elf looked down, her mouth thinning. “It could have happened a lot sooner than this. The road runs both ways. And don’t you dare say you didn’t come because you were afraid of me!” she added venomously. “My mother isn’t afraid of anything!”

“You’re wrong,” the old woman said. “I’m afraid of a lot of things- I just hide it well.”

For a long time they were silent- Morgaine unsure of what to say, and Ophelia unwilling to say anything at all. It was the half-elf who finally broke the silence, switching from Kythian to Elvish.

“You’re so old now. Your hair is turning grey, your face is wrinkling, and your voice has gone rough. It’s easy to forget, living with the elves, but I guess Sieg was right… you’re only human. You don’t have much time left, do you?”

“I don’t really know,” Morgaine admitted in her own somewhat halting Elvish. “I’m hale and hearty enough, for the time being, but I’m already older than a lot of people live to be. I’m no noble, living on a rich diet that will keep me going into my sixties or seventies.”

“Then I’ll get to the point,” Ophelia said bluntly. “Give me one good reason why I should forgive you for abandoning us after our father died, for leaving me to deal with a broken, half insane wreck of a brother when I was only sixteen years old, and for not once making any effort to apologize to me, for over a decade.”

The old woman was silent for a long time, her lone good eye full of immeasurable pain. Finally, she looked up and met Ophelia’s eyes squarely. “I can’t do that. There is no good reason for what I put you through. I can list the excuses I’ve been feeding myself until I’m blue in the face, but it won’t make a difference. You’re my daughter, and I know my daughter well enough to know she’s far too intelligent to accept excuses. After all this time, you would be well within your rights never to forgive me at all.”

She shook her head. “And honestly, I don’t want forgiveness. What I did to you and your brother was inexcusable. But… believe me when I say, I’ve suffered for my decision. Every day I’ve missed you, but my own fear of rejection kept me from acting on it.”

Ophelia was quivering, her face twisted with rage and anguish. “So what- you don’t want to be forgiven, so what do you want then? To be punished?”

“Maybe I deserve that,” Morgaine admitted. “But no. What I really want, Ophelia is a second chance. I can’t undo the mistakes of the past, but maybe I can learn from them. M-maybe...”

She choked on a sob, and held out her hands imploringly. “Please, Ophee, please… I won’t ask you to forgive me, but please let me try again. I just… want to h-hold my little girl.”

The half-elf looked down at her mother, then looked away, squeezing her eyes shut. “I want so badly to hate you. I want to not care when I look at that missing eye, or at how old you’ve gotten. I w-want to walk away, so you can n-never hurt me again.”

Tears began to overflow Ophelia’s closed eyelids, and she sobbed. “But I can’t. It’s n-not fair, after everything you did to me, everything you p-put me through, why do I s-still need you?”

She fell to her knees, her eyes streaming, and Morgaine immediately knelt beside her, putting her arms around her daughter’s neck. “Ophee, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” she rasped around tears of her own. “I wish there was some way I could fix this, I just, I can’t… I’m sorry, sweety, I’m so sorry.”

“M-mama,” the half-elf moaned, leaning into the old woman’s arms. “Why did you go, why did you leave me all alone, I w-wasn’t ready.”

“I was stupid and selfish,” Morgaine said, burrowing her face into Ophelia’s shoulder. “I was a horrible mother, Ophee, I still am. A mother s-should never make their baby c-cry.”

“You, you adopted that brat, you replaced me, you couldn’t stand how much I reminded you of P-papa.”

The locksmith shook her head. “Even if I miss your father terribly, I could never hold it against you. I thought it was for the best, I thought you’d be better off without me because I was so miserable all the time, I didn’t want to hold you back- I was stupid. But Rosalie isn’t a replacement Ophee, she’s not you. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t missed you, and Rosie can’t ever fill that gap. I need you as much as you say you need me. I was just too much of an idiot to see it until it was too late.”

Ophelia didn’t answer- she was too choked with weeping to get a single coherent word out. But slowly, falteringly, she lifted her arms, and wrapped them around her mother’s chest. Morgaine’s grip tightened, and so did Ophelia’s.

“I love you, Ophee.”

“I love you too, Mama.”

* * * * *

At length, the two of them finally separated. They didn’t speak at first, just sat together on the dock and stared out over the water- as they’d done so many times when the half-elf was a child in Nid’aigle. Ophelia sighed, looking out over the water of Lake Plume. “You’re not coming home, are you?”

“My home is here now, Ophee,” Morgaine said gently. “I have a life in Medieville, and friends. I won’t make the same mistake twice- I won’t abandon them.”

“What about me?” the half-elf demanded. “Are you going to abandon me again?”

“No, of course not,” Morgaine said sternly. “I’ll come to visit you and your brother in Nid’aigle, and you both are always welcome here. But we’ve our own lives to live. We can’t go back to how things used to be, much as we may want to. It’s been too long, and too much has changed. But we’ll always be family, and no matter what happens I’ll always drop whatever I’m doing if you need me.”

Ophelia looked angry for a minute more, then she shook her head. “You’re right- you usually are. But I don’t want to just leave you like this, not… not after I finally…”

The locksmith’s expression softened, and she hugged her daughter again. “Why don’t you stay a while then? Meet my friends here in Medieville. You got off to a rocky start with Clare and Ilsa but I think they’d be game for a do-over. And there’s Aira, Leif, Kirin, Ambrose-”

“Sheesh, you really have gotten popular haven’t you?” The half-elf remarked, quirking an eyebrow. “Alright, sure. I think I can get two weeks off work, or thereabouts. Just… Can we take it slow? Please? I’m…”

“A little raw still?” Morgaine guessed shrewdly, and Ophelia nodded. “I’d have expected nothing less. I hurt you badly, and that wound’s been festering for a long time. It’s not going to heal in the course of one conversation. But at least we’ve finally made a start.”

Concluding note

SPOILER: Click to show

And with that, Ophelia is now open for roleplays in Medieville! Feel free to hit me up if anybody wants to interact with her!

[Shinko]

Wait, where are the Brahams? Where's Nid'aigle? What is going on here?!

This fic isn't about any of those characters- back in my Countryswap Crossover AU I introduced the character of Seamus, a friend of CS!Sieg in Kythian Bern who became the Stallion bookkeeper after Kirin opted to stay in Medieville. Celes let me make Seamus canon, so now he is the bookkeeper in Destrier for realsies! This fic is about how he came to get the job, and his first year-ish adjusting to the position. Enjoy!

In The Night, the Bookkeeper Missed Dinner Again

SPOILER: Click to show

It was a crisp day in mid-July in the seaside Bernian town of Jennet. Gulls swooped by overhead, sounding off raucously, and their cries melded with the ever present crash of the ocean against the shore in an ambiance that was as much a part of life in the town as the rising and setting of the sun. On the northern outskirts of town, directly adjacent to the ocean, was the manor of the minor Bernian nobles, House Dun. Three people dressed in the house colors of goldenrod, dark brown and white stood by a carriage outside the manor. Closest to the carriage, watching as a servant loaded it with the last of his travel bags, was the youngest son of the former Dun lord, Cohen, who had died eleven years prior.

“This be the last o’ it,” the servant said with a bow. “The bulk o’ your things’ll be sent along after ye if ye secure the position with House Stallion, but fer now this should be enough tae last ye the trip tae Destrier ‘n back. There’ll be someun waitin’ at the docks tae help ye load up there.”

“Thank ye,” Seamus said with a smile, and the servant smiled back before quickly scampering off.

“So yer finally off then,” Seamus’ sister Eleanor remarked softly. The twenty-two year old nobleman smiled sheepishly.

“I did nae think when ye put my name forward for this that I’d make the short list,” he admitted. “Still does nae quite feel real yet, that I’m actually leaving Jennet.”

“It’ll probably sink in once ye get tae Destrier,” remarked Theodore, one of Seamus’ brothers. He ruffled his younger sibling’s hair affectionately. “’N ye’d better stay there, got it? There’s nae reason ye shouldn’t get this job, so if ye mess it up there’ll be the ‘Pit to pay.”

“That keen tae have me gone, Theo?” Seamus asked, smirking slightly. His brother made a dismissive gesture.

“Keen tae nae have tae listen tae yer moaning about being bored,” he retorted, a mischievous glint in his deep green eyes. All of the Dun siblings had green eyes, except for Seamus, whose eyes were hazel. The youngest Dun sibling did, however, share his family’s trademark auburn hair, which was presently done up in a slightly untidy horse tail. He had a matching short-cropped beard that made him look slightly older than he actually was- which he hoped would help him to affect the seeming of maturity for this venture he was about to embark on.

“Seriously though, Seamus, good luck,” Theo added, his expression softening. “If ye can net this, I think it’ll do wonders for that bit ye’ve been chomping at. I know it can’t be easy being the youngest with nothing tae really do that’s nae already being done.”

“It'll be nice for ye tae have something tae do besides frittering away from boredom with the numbskull here,” Eleanor put in. Seamus laughed, and then pulled both of them into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss ye both,” he said softly. “If I land it, I will nae be able tae come home much. Winter the snows’ll block all the roads ‘n the bay’ll be iced over. In summer work at the castle will be at its busiest.”

“Does nae matter, Seamus,” his sister said gently as she and Theo returned the hug. “Ye’ll always be our baby brother, ‘n even if ye can’t come tae see Aaron or Theo here or me in Kustanair, we’ll still write tae ye.”

The youngest of the Duns chuckled, pulling away. Then he looked around. “Speaking of, where’s Aaron? Thought for sure he’d at least swing by for a short while tae seem me off.”

“So did I,” Theo remarked, frowning. “I know he’s busy lording ‘n all but the idgit can spare five minutes.”

Before any of the three siblings could say anything else, the door of the manor opened and three children streamed through the portal towards Seamus, shrieking “Uncle Seamus!” Then came the children’s father, Lord Aaron Dun, looking somewhat out of breath and not a little abashed.

“Ugh, who’d have known when the quartermaster said he needed ‘a little’ of my time, he actually meant the entire bloody morning! I am so sorry Seamus, I had tae talk pretty fast tae get away from him when I realized the time.”

The lord’s youngest sibling looked up from his nieces and nephew, an amused expression on his face. “It’s fine, Aaron, ye’re here now. I suppose Stephanie helped ye tae remember yer previous engagement?”

Aaron winced. “Oh, naturally. Sometimes I swear I’d forget my own name if she did nae keep it straight for me. For a political marriage I definitely lucked out on that one.” He shook his head. “But never mind, we’re nae here tae talk about work or politics, are we? C’mere ye brat, and let me give ye a proper goodbye.”

The Dun lord pulled Seamus tightly against him, and with a laugh the younger nobleman returned the gesture. “Everyone’s getting so excited, but I’ll probably be back in just a few weeks.”

“Nah, you’ll get the job,” Aaron said firmly, pushing his brother back and meeting his eyes squarely. “Grand Duke Alain’s stern, but he’s fair, and any steward of his would be way tae intelligent tae turn away someone as talented as ye for a position that’d ye’d fit like it was a glove made for yer hand. Ye’ll be a fine bookkeeper for House Stallion.”

“Are ye going away for a long time, Uncle Seamus?” Asked Tia, Aaron’s eight year old daughter and eldest child. Seamus ruffled the little girl’s hair.

“That’s the hope, little one. Uncle Seamus is finally going tae get a grown up job, if all goes well.”

“Ye’d best get going if ye want tae catch yer ferry before it pulls off,” Theo put in. Seamus nodded, and after one final round of hugs, he climbed up into the carriage that would take him to the port.

Later, as he the ship moved away from Jennet and south towards Kustanair, he couldn't help but feel a sad sort of nostalgia. This tiny seaside hamlet and the woods surrounding it were practically his entire world. Now he was on his way to a place he’d never dreamed he’d get to visit- and maybe, just maybe, a new future.

* * * * *

The few times Seamus had been to the port town of Kustanair at the mouth of the Ursine River to visit his sister after her marriage into House Bay had been enough of a culture shock for Seamus, as huge as Kustanair was compared to Jennet. When the river ferry arrived in Destrier, he was left utterly breathless.

The walled city was enormous, sprawling across both sides of the river with the monolith of the Stallion family’s castle overlooking everything from high up on a hill. As he ventured out into the streets to find his way to the inn where he intended to be staying, he was further impressed by how densely crowded the place was. Ahead of him was an ocean of faces, and an endless thrum of idle chatter and shouting merchants from all directions. It was supremely difficult for him to navigate the current of people, but the locals seemed to get around as easily as they were breathing. Seamus couldn’t help feeling distinctly like a country bumpkin, and wondering if he really had a chance of staying in such a place.

The crowds were certainly doing his social anxiety no favors. Seamus had suffered from rather bad nerves in crowded or diplomatic settings since he was very young, and needless to say his anxiety levels were off the charts when he was finally called in to speak to the Stallion stewards and quartermaster. The Dun found himself smoothing his sleeves unnecessarily out of nerves for the first few minutes of the interview, and had the force himself to keep his hands still in his lap. Seamus knew looking like a jittery incompetent was the last thing he needed. His youth was already a mark against him, and a random brat from Jennet probably stood no chance compared to students from the university in Palfrey or members of other, richer houses with more complex account books, but… well he’d come this far, so he was determined to make the best impression he could regardless.

He was a little surprised to find that during the interview he never once actually talked to anyone from House Stallion- Alain watched the proceedings but didn’t actually speak, opting instead to allow his servants to carry out the proceedings. In a way, that actually helped ease Seamus’ anxiety, if only slightly. He answered the basic questions about his character and work ethic readily enough despite his nerves. When they tested his skills at the actual job by presenting him with some account books that were inconsistent, had been tampered with, and were shoddily tallied, he breezed through those tests with far more confidence than he’d had during the verbal interview.

Seamus loved math- it was his hobby and his passion. He could do some fairly complex figures in his head, and had a near photographic memory for formulas. He was in no way worried about his ability to do the bookkeeping. But the young nobleman knew full well that being good at math was only half the equation. He also had to make himself stand out from the other candidates who were presumably equally talented. And this was where he was nervous. Between his anxiety and the fact that he knew he was no diplomat, Seamus was convinced that he’d be taking the next ship back out to Kustanair as soon as the interviews concluded.

If it happens, it happens, he tried to tell himself, but it wasn’t a very reassuring thought. Especially not when he realized halfway into the interview he’d slipped out of polite difference and started making casual jokes about this and that while answering the questions he was asked. Granted, that was just the sort of person Seamus was, but he couldn’t help feeling that it would make him seem unprofessional. Still, it was too late to take it back, so as was his usual way he just accepted the foul-up and went with it- rather convinced by that point he had booked himself a one-way ticket back to Jennet.

He was very much surprised then, when three days later one of the Stallion servants came to the inn where he was staying to tell him that he Grand Duke wanted to offer him the position.

“...Really?” he couldn’t help squeaking, to the servant’s obvious amusement. He was assured that, yes, he was really being offered the job, and brought before Alain so that the Stallion patriarch could offer him the position formally.

Alain was every bit as cool and formal as he’d come off when Seamus saw him during the job interview, though at least now he was talking instead of playing the nerve-wrackingly silent observer on the sidelines. He still watched the young nobleman like a hawk, seeming to catch every little nuance of Seamus’ behavior.

While they were discussing the exact duties of the bookkeeper position and the terms under which Seamus would accept it, Alain mentioned something seemingly off-handedly; one of the former Stallion bookkeepers had turned out to be a thief. He’d been skimming money off the top and altering the records to cover his tracks, and had gotten away with it for a decent while unnoticed. Only with the help of Seamus’ immediate predecessor, Kirin Mao, had Alain discovered what the crooked bookkeeper was up to. Seamus was horrified and indignant at this story- who would throw away a job with the Stallions for the sake of a bit of extra money? He couldn’t help but also feel a sense of respect and admiration for “Kirin” whoever he was- Seamus hoped he might get to meet him eventually.

Alain seemed bizarrely satisfied by Seamus’ reaction to the story, though he moved on from the topic so casually the young nobleman couldn’t be entirely certain if he’d imagined that. And pretty soon he’d dismissed it from his mind entirely- he had other things to think about.

He was given the rest of the day to move into the room that he’d agreed to rent in the castle- the rent deducted from his wages of course, along with a sum for regular meals- send for the remainder of his belongings from Jennet, and with the help of a servant familiarize himself with the castle in general and the records room that was his new domain in particular.

It was so surreal- this huge room, with a single window for light so that the sun didn’t damage the precious documents lined up on shelves from the floor to the high ceilings, was his place now. He had almost sole charge of it and it’s contents. Seamus felt absurdly giddy, a faint quiver of excitement running up his spine as he returned to the room once his tour of the castle was over. In spite of the fact that technically he wouldn’t be starting work until the next day, he tentatively pulled some of the records from the previous year down off the shelf and began to thumb through them- both to familiarize himself with how a normal year of expenses went for House Stallion, and to get a more hands-on idea of exactly what he’d be doing from now on. He lit a candle to read by in the dim room, and set about his task.

It wasn’t until he heard a faint knock at the door that he looked up from the third book in the set for the year and realized that outside the window it was nearly dark.

“Ah, Lord Dun?” said a young woman in servant’s livery. “I’m to tell you that this is the hour the family and upper servants normally take dinner. It should be ready in the great hall in about fifteen minutes.”

“Ah, thank ye,” Seamus replied, putting a marker in the book and setting it back on the shelf- no reason to make a bad impression right from the start by leaving records lying about. “I’ll clean myself up ‘n be right down.”

He didn’t have time for a thorough washup, but he did clean his face and tidy his hair- as much as he ever could- and change into something more suitable for dinner. He couldn’t help being nervous- this was his first time eating amongst the people who were to be his coworkers from now on. But to his relief, the meal was a relatively casual one and the other upper servants were either indifferent to him- which was fine- or friendly- which was a very pleasant surprise. He recognized the stewards and quartermaster who’d interviewed him for the position, and thanked them for appointing him to it. They warmly congratulated him on making the cut, and at his tentative inquiries were more than happy to tell him about what he could expect from life in the castle. Gradually Seamus’ apprehension eased, and by the end of the meal he’d slipped out of the formal nobleman mask and into his usual cheerful persona.

The next day he began his work as bookkeeper for real, and almost immediately found himself behind- during the time the Stallions had been forced to spend looking for a bookkeeper the quartermaster had been doing this task when he had the time, but around his usual work he could never quite keep up. A month and a half’s worth of expense tallies to record and check over, not to mention the fact that he still needed to finish going over the old records- Seamus had his work cut out.

The first day proceeded much like the day of his hire, and though he took a quick breakfast and lunch, he again ate in the dining room at dinner. However, the second day he got caught up in his work, and completely lost track of the time. It wasn’t until he found himself nodding off over his work that he became aware that not a jot of light was coming in through the lonely window- when he walked over to it to look up at the moon, he realized that it was probably close to nine or ten- well past the dinner hour.

And my workday is supposed to be over at four- oops, Seamus thought ruefully. His stomach took the opportunity to make a rather loud noise of protest to his extended fast, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it at this point- the kitchen staff would have no doubt long since been dismissed. Resigning himself to going to bed hungry, he put away his things and left the records room for the night.

Missing one meal wasn’t going to hurt anything of course- he just ate heartily the next day at breakfast and took more care to keep track of the time so he didn’t miss dinner again. However, two days later he was dismayed to realize he’d again gotten so caught up in his work that he’d run through dinner. When he managed to overwork to the point of skipping meals three days solid, one of his friends among the upper servants finally confronted him about it.

“Ye know newbie, we’re nae poisoning the dinner things,” he remarked, startling Seamus out of his concentration. He glanced at the window and realized it was almost sunset- his shift was an hour over, and dinner would be in another twenty or thirty minutes.

“Ah, ‘Pit, I almost did it again,” Seamus remarked ruefully. He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly at the servant. “Sorry about that I get distracted easy. I’ve never had a real job before this one, ‘n I don’t want tae make a bad impression.”

“If ye starve tae death, impressions will nae matter,” the servant pointed out bluntly. “I don’t think his grace wants his new bookkeeper bein’ rushed to the physicians on account of he wont’ et.”

When Seamus’ only response was to turn a rather delicate shade of pink, the servant chuckled. “We can fix somethin’ with the kitchens if ye need. If ye don’t show up at dinner, we’ll have some leftovers brought up here tae ye. Sound fair?”

“I would appreciate it a great deal, thank ye,” Seamus said sincerely. “I just… I love finally having something worthwhile tae do, sometimes I don’t want tae stop.”

“Whatever makes ye happy lad. Just remember ye dinnae get paid for workin’ past yer scheduled hours,” the servant said with a chuckle. “Do ye need anythin’ else while I’m here?”

“If ye could see to getting me a cup of tea, I’d be most obliged,” Seamus replied eagerly. “I always had one around at home, and it helps me calm down when I work tae hard.”

Not that Seamus spent all of his time working of course. Though he forgot to come down to dinner often enough that it became something of a game among the servants to bet on if he’d show, he did still come down more often than not- and on his days off he was more than happy to spend time in the city with his friends among the servants. Though he saw little of the nobles he was now working for, that didn’t bother him much. Back in Jennet he’d had a good many peasant friends growing up, and knew all of the Dun servants by their first names.

At first Destrier overwhelmed Seamus somewhat between the crowded streets and the rather convoluted organization of the place. But over the course of the summer and early autumn he adapted, familiarizing himself with his new surroundings and learning to navigate around the worst of the foot traffic. There was plenty to see and do in the Bernian capital, and by the time the snows closed in for the winter he’d still barely scratched the surface.

The bookkeeper’s social limits, however, stopped short at the sorts of big, important diplomatic events that were so very common for the upper nobility. Upon his initial hire Seamus had been worried he’d be obligated to attend the Stallion family’s formal feasts and celebrations. After all he too was a noble, albeit a minor one. But to his relief, no one seemed particularly fussed about if he was or wasn’t there. He was generally invited, of course, but this seemed more a courtesy than an obligation. After a while, as Alain better learned the temperament of his bookkeeper, the invitations to formal banquets and other such events stopped coming.

However, some invitations to exercises of noble privilege he did accept- notably, when the Stallions went out hunting and asked the senior knights and minor nobles in their employ along. The Dun territory was funded mostly by two industries- timber and fur. As such, Seamus was well acquainted with hunting and trapping, and not at all averse to getting out of the city every so often to utilize those disused skills.

He was returning from one such expedition late in the spring, a bare two months shy of the one year anniversary of his hire. It had been a week long trip, which was a nice break from the daily grind in the castle. However, that extended vacation meant that Seamus had a lot of work backlogged. To no one’s surprise, after he bid his farewells to the rest of the hunting party he vanished up into the records room, and though he did remember to come down to dinner, he went directly back to his work afterwards in his haste to catch up.

The following morning one of the servants gently knocked on the door to his room, but got no answer. Knowing what she would find, she headed to the records room with a tray of rolls and milk, and let herself in. Seamus was slumped over his desk, sound asleep, his head pillowed on the accounts he’d been working on.

With an indulgent headshake, the woman sat the tray on the end of the desk where he’d find it when he woke, then as an afterthought took his cloak down from the rack at the front of the room and draped it over his shoulders.

“Ye never change, Lord Dun,” she remarked softly. The young nobleman shifted slightly in his sleep, but did not wake. Wordlessly, the servant left the Stallion bookkeeper to his rest.

[Shinko]

Collab with PFA. Takes place about two years after Feathers, Fun, and New Friends

Sibling Rivalry

SPOILER: Click to show

“Now remember, Joffery, this is an important diplomatic responsibility,” said Lord Everett, as his eldest son was getting ready to leave on his first diplomatic trip. “Remember to be on your absolute best behavior.”

“Don’t worry, father. I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Joffery replied proudly.

“If you’re ever unsure what to do, your advisors can help you,” Everett added, indicating the two men who were accompanying Joffery on the trip. “So don’t feel like you have to do it alone.”

“I’ll remember that.” Joffery nodded. “I think I’ll be alright, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, dear,” Satine assured him, kissing Joffery on the forehead and giving him a hug. “Stay safe.”

“Thanks, mother,” Joffery replied, returning the hug. “I will.” After a moment, he pulled back from the hug, glancing across the room. Upon spotting someone, he smiled, waving him over. “Brother! Did you come to see me off?”

From behind the doorway into the room, Reynold frowned. He had been hoping his brother wouldn’t notice him, but apparently he wasn’t as well hidden as he thought. With a reluctant sigh, he walked into the room, allowing Joffery to give him a farewell hug.

“I’ll miss you, brother,” Joffery told him. “But don’t worry! When I come back, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Yeah,” Reynold replied halfheartedly. And then, “I want to go, too.”

“He’s not going on vacation, Reynold. This is an important diplomatic trip,” Everett explained, only serving to make Reynold feel worse. “Joffery’s old enough that he needs to start learning to be responsible.”

“But I can be responsible, too!” Reynold whined. “Can’t I do it?”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Satine added, smiling reassuringly and stroking Reynold’s hair. “You’ll get to go on your own diplomatic trips when you’re older.”

“Exactly!” Joffery piped in. “And then you’ll be able to turn to me for help, too.”

Reynold made a face at that. “I don’t want your help, Joffery.”

A pause. Joffery frowned, confused. “…What?”

“I don’t need it!” Reynold snapped. “I work hard to learn everything myself, and I don’t need your help! You just get to do it because you’re the oldest!”

“Hey, Reynold, it’s okay,” Satine said, trying to calm him down. “We know you work hard. You’re just not old enough yet, that’s all.”

“I’ll never be old enough!” Reynold continued. “Because I’ll never be older than Joffery!”

“Reynold—” Everett started, but it was no use; Reynold stormed out of the room without another word, leaving his concerned family behind.

---

“Hold still, Lieutenant Escalus,” the healer said, pointing his wand at the fireknight’s twisted wreck of a wrist. It had been broken during a recent skirmish while Anders Escalus was out on patrol with his wing, and his face was tight with pain. A muttered phrase from the healer, and it slipped back into alignment, though not without a cry of pain from Anders. After another incantation, the broken bones were repaired and the pain eased considerably.

“You still want to go easy on that for a while,” the healer said crisply. “It should be fine, but for now I’m going to give you a brace for it. You should be able to remove it within a few days.”

“Sure,” the fireknight replied, watching as the healer fitted a stiff brace around his hand and lower arm. Eventually Anders was released, and he gratefully left the infirmary of the Jade Manor in Solis. After that fight, he needed a nap.

As he was walking through the walls of the manor, however, he became aware of an unusual amount of commotion in the halls. He looked up as a servant rushed past him, calling out “Lord Reynold! Young lord, where are you?”

A jolt of alarm shot through the fireknight- Reynold was missing? What had happened? He turned after the servant, trotting to catch up to the man, and grabbed his shoulder with the unsplinted hand. “Excuse me, I’m Lieutenant Anders Escalus of wing three of the fireknights- can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing of special concern, Lieutenant,” the servant said with a wan smile. “It seems there was a spot of trouble a little while ago with one of Lord Everett’s sons, and now he’s run off. You know how boys are, especially boys coming up on their teenage years.”

“Hm,” was the only reply Anders gave, though he released the man’s shoulder and let him go again. A spot of trouble? What could have happened? Obviously something that had upset Reynold, or he wouldn’t have run and hid. The fireknight had met and befriended Lord Everett’s second son two years ago when Reynold and his older brother Joffery snuck into the phoenix mews one day, and just leaving the boy to his own devices didn’t sit well with Anders.

Though the areas of the manor where he was allowed to be were limited, Anders set about conducting his own search for the erstwhile young nobleman. He checked the dining hall, the entrance hall, most of the formal sitting rooms, and even glanced out the windows into the gardens when he passed them. Eventually he came upon a small door he almost walked past entirely- one that was unadorned and probably led to a storage closet of some sort. But what caught Anders attention was that it was hanging just slightly ajar- not much, it wasn’t even really cracked, but no servant would have been so careless as to leave it open like this. Hesitantly, he took the door handle in his uninjured right hand, and pulled the door open, leaning around it.

“Hello?”

At first there was no response, save for the faint sound of stifled sniveling. And then, finally, Reynold’s voice. “Leave me alone.”

“Is that an order, my lord?” Anders asked, though his voice was gentle. “Because if it’s an order I suppose as your fireknight I have to listen to you- but as your friend I’d rather not. You look as if you could use a friend right now. What’s wrong?”

Again, Reynold was silent at first, as if not sure how to respond. After a moment, he decided to speak again. “It’s not fair, that’s all.”

Well that clearly explained everything. Resigning himself to the fact that he was probably going to have to worm whatever was going on out of Reynold a little at a time, Anders coughed slightly. “Would you… like to go someplace more comfortable than a storage closet to talk about it? It looks like this isn’t going to be an easy conversation for you, and at the least you should have something comfortable to sit on- and besides it’s not going to be very effective to hide in an unused storage room if people outside can hear us talking.”

“...Yeah, I guess,” Reynold replied.

Anders led the young man outside to a small alcove of trees in the manor gardens- it wasn’t hidden, precisely, but it was out of the way enough that most of the time people didn’t come there. As was generally the case in Corvus the sky was leaden and overcast, though it wasn’t raining, so it was even more unlikely anyone would come looking for Reynold in the garden.

“So,” Anders said, once he and the boy had sat down on the stone benches. “What’s unfair, exactly?”

Reynold took a deep breath, trying to get his thoughts together. “I just… I hate being the second son. Joffery gets to do everything because he’s the oldest, and it’s not fair.”

Anders inhaled sharply. “Ah. I see. This is… this is about the succession of House Jade, isn’t it?”

It made sense, in retrospect- the fireknight had often noticed that Reynold seemed uncomfortable when the subject of the family responsibilities came up, but never really explained what it was about the topic that bothered him… because usually Joffery was somewhere nearby. Anders felt like a fool for not having put it together sooner.

“I work so hard,” Reynold continued. “I always have, but Joffery doesn’t. He doesn’t even care! He just sings and chases girls like it doesn’t even matter!” He made a face, tears welling up in his eyes again. “But he’s still the one who gets to do everything. It’s not fair!”

Hesitantly, Anders reached out and put a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. The look on his face was difficult to read, but there was no mistaking the sympathy in his eyes.

“I know, Reynold,” he fireknight said, his voice very soft. “Believe me- I know far better than you probably realize.”

Reynold looked up at him, wondering what he meant by that. Anders continued, squeezing Reynold’s shoulder.

“There is nothing more painful that feeling as if your accomplishments and talents aren’t being recognized because of the circumstances of your birth,” he said. “I don’t think Lord Everett actually intends to make you feel that way, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Anders sighed, leaning forwards so that his elbows were resting on his knees. “Sometimes I envy the peasantry- they don’t have to deal with politics and questions of inheritance.”

“Yeah,” Reynold agreed absently. After a pause, he added cautiously, “You… were from House Escalus, right?”

The fireknight quirked an eyebrow. “That’s why they call me Lieutenant Escalus. Yes, once upon a time. But not anymore- I had your father dissolve my allegiance to House Escalus when I came here, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to become a fireknight.”

Reynold frowned. “So I guess your family didn’t appreciate you, either?”

The comment about his family made Anders frown, but he decided now wasn’t the time to point out that it was perhaps a little harsh to suggest that the Jades didn’t appreciate Reynold. In his current mood the boy would likely just become more sullen at the appearance of the fireknight taking his family’s side. There would be time enough to talk him around once he was in a… more reasonable mood.

“It was a little different in my case,” Anders said, in response to the boy’s question. “I… wasn’t a younger son.” He chuckled bitterly. “Actually until I was nine years old, I was Lord Olander’s heir.”

“What? Really?” Reynold’s eyes widened, taken aback by the revelation. “Wow, I… I’d heard something about that, but I didn’t know that was you… that must be terrible.”

“I generally make it a point not to bring it up,” the fireknight said. “It was a long time ago, and the life I have now is a good one. So while I make no secret what family I belong to, not many people know I’m the house’s disinherited eldest son- only your father and a very few select individuals within the ranks of the fireknights. And now you.”

He shook his head, “But that’s my burden, and you don’t need to worry about it. Just know that I do understand, Reynold. The way bitterness and jealousy can seem to eat you alive, the frustration of feeling like none of your accomplishments are ever going to amount to anything, I’ve lived through all of that.”

Anders looked to the young boy bleakly. “But when I let my anger run away with me, and lashed out at my family, it eventually drove away even the people who did care about me. Being alone was almost as bad as the frustration of knowing I would never amount to anything in my family’s eyes. I can’t do anything to help you, but I don’t want you to have to go through that loneliness too. If it gets to being too much to handle, you know you’re welcome down at the mews. I’m gone on patrol a lot, but whenever I’m in Solis it doesn’t matter what I might be doing, you can always come talk to me.”

Reynold fell silent again, thinking on this for a while. Anders had always been a good friend to him, it was almost surreal to see just how much he could relate to how he was feeling right now. He smiled weakly, wiping a tear. He was right—it was nice knowing he wasn’t alone.

“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

Anders gave the boy a brief one-armed squeeze around his shoulders. “No problem. You’re a good kid, Reynold. I’d hate to see you lose sight of yourself the same way I did all those years ago. I’m sure the Woo has great things in store for you, even if you’re not the heir to House Jade. Even if it seems to go unnoticed, your talent and hard work will serve you well one day.”

The fireknight hesitated, absently running a finger along the seam of the brace on his left arm. “Though… for what it’s worth, I don’t think Lord Everett is intentionally neglecting you. Obviously I can only personally attest to so much, but he’s the one who gave me somewhere to belong when I was ostracized by my own family- he seems the sort to recognize an individual’s worth, even if they aren’t in line to inherit a title. Maybe try talking to him a little about your frustrations too. Rationally, calmly, and in a way that shows him you’re mature and capable. I’m sure he’ll understand and hear you out.”

Reynold made a face at this. “I don’t know. I already yelled at him, so he’s probably mad at me.”

“Mad, maybe,” Anders admitted, seeing no point in denying it. “But people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset- it happens. Once you’ve calmed down, if you apologize to him and really mean it, I’m sure he’ll forgive you. He might still scold you a bit for losing your temper, but at least it’ll help keep things from escalating. Even if he doesn’t decide to forgive you for getting upset, what have you got to lose? If you don’t try patching it up the result is the same as if you’d tried and he refused- but if you do try, at least there’s a chance you can make things better.”

“…I guess you’re right,” Reynold admitted. And then, “I don’t know if I can face him right now, though.”

“I understand,” the fireknight replied. “You don’t want to put it off too long, because he’ll worry about where you’ve vanished to, but you also don’t want to talk to him until you’re sure you can do it calmly. I’ll stay and listen for as long as you need though.” He held up his braced hand ruefully. “I won’t be flying combat patrols for a while with this wrist, so it’s not like I have anywhere I need to be rushing off to.”

“Thanks,” Reynold replied. Then he smiled, getting an idea. “You know, I bet I’d feel better if you told me a story.”

Anders was startled by this request, but he laughed. “Sure thing. The previous Lieutenant of my wing told me a story once that happened when he was still just a squire. A wild gryphon appeared in the south of Corvus one day, and it was pilfering sheep from the local herdsmen. But they didn’t realize it was wild, because the thing was actually an escaped Courdonian war gryphon. It still had its regalia on when it started raiding the village. People were panicking thinking there was an invasion, all caused by a single runaway gryphon!”

Anders elaborated on the story, telling Reynold about how he fireknights and ground based soldiers had spent a month after getting rid of the gryphon searching high and low for Courdonian advance scouts when there were none to find- but unintentionally unearthing a few problems plaguing the people of the area around where the gryphon had nested. Problems that might have gone unnoticed for quite some time, had the knights not been scouring the area with a fine-toothed comb. And how in the end, Lord Eduard had sent a missive to Courdon about the gryphon- carefully worded so as not to sound like anything accusatory- and found out the truth of the matter, much to the consternation of everyone involved. It ended up for the better in the long run, but it was still a long, frustrating wild goose chase- but made for a hilarious story forty years down the line.

“Wow, that must have been hectic,” Reynold remarked, laughing at the story. He then took a deep breath, standing up. “Well… I guess my parents are looking for me.”

“I’d be surprised if they weren’t,” Anders replied. “Should I leave you to it then?”

“I guess,” Reynold said hesitantly. He started to walk back toward the manor, but he paused, glancing back toward Anders. “Um… would it be okay if you came with me?”

The fireknight had started to stand up, figuring he and the young Jade would part ways here, but at Reynold’s request he stared down at the boy for a moment, then gave a crooked smile. “Alright, if that’s what you want. But remember, you have to be the one to talk to Lord Everett and Lady Satine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Reynold agreed sheepishly. “I just don’t want to go alone.”

“I understand, Reynold,” Anders replied. “Of course I’ll come with you.”

So the two of them returned to the manor together. Since most of the servants were still busy looking for Reynold, it didn’t take long for them to be directed back to where Lord Everett and Lady Satine were waiting for him. At least, to Reynold’s relief, Joffery wasn’t there this time.

“There you are, Reynold. We were looking for you,” Everett said. Glancing up at Anders, he added, “Thank you for finding him, Lieutenant.”

Anders bowed his head to the Jade lord. “Of course. I hope you have not worried overmuch, my lord.”

“Only as much as any parent would be, given the circumstances.” Everett glanced back down at Reynold, who averted his gaze guiltily.

“I’m sorry I yelled at Joffery,” the boy mumbled.

“You’ll have plenty of time to apologize to Joffery in person later. For now…” Everett glanced up at Anders again. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private?”

“But I don’t want him to leave,” Reynold insisted.

“You…” Everett frowned at this. He looked at Anders questioningly, as if unsure what to make of this request.

The fireknight gave a slightly apologetic smile. “Sorry, my lord. After I found him and talked him around, he asked me to accompany him when he came to apologize, to provide moral support. I agreed to come along, but he knows this is his conversation to have with you, not mine. If need be you may think of me as a rather lively piece of statuary- I won’t intervene in your conversation nor discuss it with anyone else.”

Speaking so plainly to Lord Everett was making Anders’ insides squirm. He respected this man, and didn’t want to seem insubordinate. But he had made a promise to Reynold to help him, and he didn’t want to let the boy down.

Though his nerves weren’t helped any by Everett’s silence, as he gazed at the fireknight with what seemed to be mixed emotions. The Jade lord thought on this response for a while, glancing back at his wife at one point as if to ask her opinion. Satine gave a small nod, and Everett sighed relentingly.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said at length. “Just… I worry this may be a difficult conversation.”

Anders averted his gaze. “It wasn’t about that, not really- it was about being acknowledged. I have that now. But if I can help to keep someone else from feeling as alone as I did, I would make any sacrifice to my own peace of mind.”

Everett frowned, glancing down at Reynold again. “Being acknowledged?”

“…I work really hard,” Reynold admitted carefully, “and it feels like it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters, Reynold,” Satine assured him, moving closer and kneeling down to the boy’s level. “We know you work hard, and we’re very proud of you for it.”

“But Joffery gets all the recognition,” Reynold said. “Because he’s the oldest.”

Anders looked down at this, a trace of old sadness in his eyes, but otherwise he gave no indication he’d heard.

“As the heir to House Jade, the expectations for Joffery are different,” Everett explained with a sigh. “That doesn’t mean we care for you any less.”

“But Joffery doesn’t care!” Reynold replied, his voice raising momentarily, but then he immediately shrunk again. “I-I mean… he’s always singing and stuff. He doesn’t care like I do.”

“Joffery is…” Everett paused, considering his choice of words. Reynold could have filled the space with a number of unkind descriptions, but he knew not to. “…Well, he’s still young.”

“And he does care,” Satine added. “He might not show it the same way, but he does. And I know that he doesn’t want to make you unhappy.”

Reynold didn’t respond, thinking on this silently. Anders looked sideways at the child, feeling a rush of sympathy again. He knew how painful jealousy was, and how difficult it was to shift or rationalize.

“At any rate, the point is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to your brother,” Everett told him. “You’re two different people with different purposes in life, and I would hope you can come to accept that.”

“Yeah,” Reynold replied with a sigh. “I guess.”

The fireknight could tell Reynold wasn’t really convinced. He wasn’t surprised- this wasn’t something the young boy was liable to get over in a single conversation. He needed time, and reassurance of his own worth.

The fireknight glanced out the window, lost in thought. Outside he could see the rain clouds clearing, revealing the blue sky behind them. An idea struck Anders, and he looked up again towards Everett. He didn’t want to do this without the lord’s permission, but he also didn’t want Reynold to get excited at the suggestion and put Everett in the position of disappointing him. How to ask what he wanted to ask without getting Reynold’s hopes up and putting his father on the spot…

“My lord, if I may… I had a thought for something that might cheer the boy up a bit.”

Having been born in a city almost directly adjacent to the Courdonian border, and spending most of his early life being groomed as the heir- and later as a knight- he’d learned to speak High Courdonian for the sake of diplomacy. It wasn’t a skill he called upon much anymore, especially considering his Right Wedge was an escaped Courdonian slave, but he figured it would at least allow him to communicate his idea to the lord privately, so that Everett could in good conscience reject it if he chose.

Everett raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden language switch—and to Courdonian, of all things. But he quickly realized what the man was trying to do, and decided to go along with it. “And what would that be?”

“It’s understandable that, even being heir aside, Lord Joffery would do certain things sooner than Reynold given the difference in their ages. But perhaps if Reynold were allowed to do something that his brother hasn’t done before, it might help him feel less… overlooked, I suppose?” The fireknight jerked a head towards the window. “The sky is clearing- it’s looking to be perfect flying weather.”

As Everett pondered the suggestion, Reynold frowned. He hadn’t learned Courdonian yet, only knowing enough to recognize that they were speaking in Courdonian. He thought he heard his and Joffery’s names, but what were they saying about them? Was he in trouble?

“Well, I trust you not to let him get hurt… I suppose it could help,” Everett admitted after some thought. “Though I do still expect him to apologize to Joffery before he leaves.”

Anders bowed again, switching back to Kythian. “I’d never suggest otherwise, my lord.”

Everett nodded, returning his attention to Reynold. “Now then, Joffery needs to be leaving soon. I’d like you to apologize to him before he goes.”

“Okay,” Reynold mumbled.

Satine smiled encouragingly, kissing Reynold on the forehead. “You’ll do fine, dear. And you’ll both feel better for it.”

“Now then, he should be waiting for you in the entrance hall,” Everett said, turning to leave and beckoning the others to follow. “Come along now.”

Reynold frowned, clinging to Anders as he tentatively followed his parents to the entrance hall. The fireknight squeezed Reynold’s shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile as they followed Everett and Satine.

When they got there, sure enough, there was Joffery sitting on one of the couches, hands folded in his lap as he stared contemplatively at the floor. Reynold bit his lip. Great, as if he didn’t feel bad enough already, now Joffery was going to make him feel guilty all over again.

“Joffery?” Everett spoke, getting Joffery’s attention. Immediately upon seeing his brother, Joffery smiled, leaping out of his seat and running over.

“Brother! Are you feeling any better?” Joffery asked.

“I guess,” Reynold replied with a sigh. “Sorry for yelling at you. Hope the trip goes well.”

Joffery smiled again, giving his brother a hug. “Thank you! I hope so, too.” Pulling back from the hug, he added, “I’m sorry you can’t come with me.”

“It’s okay, I know,” Reynold mumbled. “I’ll be able to when I’m older.”

“I’m sorry if I made you upset,” Joffery said with a frown. “If there were anything I can do to make it better, I would.”

“It’s not your fault,” was Reynold’s response, though his thoughts were distant. It wasn’t Joffery’s fault he was born first, that much he couldn’t deny. It was just frustrating how little reverence Joffery had for his position, when Reynold had worked so hard. If only I’d been first, he thought absently. Then it wouldn’t matter.

Joffery seemed to notice his brother’s disappointment, looking down at him with concern. After a few moments, he had an idea. “Oh! Would you like it if I brought you back something from the trip?”

Reynold blinked at the suggestion. “Um… I guess.”

Joffery smiled again, giving his brother another hug. “I’ll find you something nice. I love you, brother.”

“…I love you, too, Joffery.”

Seeing this, Everett gave a pleased smile. “Good. Now then, you had best get going, Joffery.”

“Yes, of course.” Joffery pulled back from the hug, smiling at Reynold. “Farewell for now, then. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” Reynold replied. “Good luck.”

Joffery said his last farewells to his parents, before finally heading out the doors and climbing into the carriage that was prepared for him. His family waved goodbye as the carriage went on its way, before eventually disappearing into the distance.

“Now as for you, Reynold…” Everett turned his attention to Reynold, who immediately started bracing himself for the worst. “I think Lieutenant Escalus has somewhere he’d like to take you.”

Reynold was silent at first, confused by this remark. He glanced up at Anders questioningly. “Um… really?”

Anders smiled. “Really. Put on a warm coat and meet me back down here- I’ll explain when we get there.”

Reynold was still confused, but did as instructed and hurried off to his room to get a coat. His parents watched with amused smiles, before turning their attention to Anders.

“Well, we had best get back to work,” Everett said. “Take good care of him.”

“Of course, my lord,” Anders replied, bowing again, though this time his expression was more amused than formal.

“You two have fun now,” Satine added, before the two of them went on their way.

Once the boy had returned, Anders gestured for him to follow. The two of them walked through the complex of buildings that made up Jade Manor, and after a while it became clear where they were headed- the phoenix mews.

“Tell me something, Reynold,” he said, stopping in front of the entrance to the mews and turning to face the boy. “Would you like the chance to do something Joffery has never done before?”

Reynold’s eyes widened with interest. “Can… can I really?”

Instead of answering, Anders nodded his head towards the place in the mews where his own phoenix, Mirja, was housed. The phoenix piped cheerfully at the sight of the young Jade, lowering her head on her long neck to preen his hair. Reynold gave a small laugh, reaching up to stroke her head.

Going behind her, Anders reached for a set of leather straps and pulled them down. “This is a special part of Mirja’s saddle that I always carry with me in case of emergencies, but don’t actually use much. I use it when I need to strap a second person onto the front of the saddle with me.” The fireknight grinned widely. “Ever wanted to know what it’s like to fly?”

Reynold was silent at first, just staring agape at the leather straps. Then, slowly, his face split into a huge grin. “You’re going to take me flying?!”

“Yup,” Anders replied with a wink. He set down the double-rider strap and pulled down Mirja’s primary saddle. “Usually it’s only fireknights who ride the phoenixes, and others in emergencies, but Lord Everett agreed that you deserve to have something special of your own. Mirja, stand.”

The phoenix stopped fussing over Reynold, turning to her rider and standing tall and straight. Anders began putting the saddle on, pulling tight a complex series of straps. While he was doing that, he gestured to a set of flight goggles on the shelf behind him. “Those are my spares- you’ll want to put one on since it gets windy and it might sting your eyes. We won’t be going too fast, since she’s already flown a patrol and fought today, but I think you’ll enjoy it all the same- trust me when I say there’s nothing quite like it.”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, going over to fetch the goggles and put them on. Once Anders had finished with the saddle, he pulled a crate over to the phoenix serve as a step stool over for the much shorter boy. “Alright, up you get.”

Reynold hefted himself onto the crate, climbing onto Mirja’s back with some help from the fireknight. Anders pulled up the double-rider straps, fixing them first to the saddle itself, then around Reynold’s legs and waist.

“This is so cool,” Reynold remarked, clutching onto the saddlehorn eagerly. “Thank you so much!”

“Not a problem, Reynold,” Anders replied, taking the collar for Mirja’s reins and hooking it around her neck- phoenix reins fixed around the neck rather than the head so that the long straps wouldn’t bang their necks in midair. He led her out by the reins into the open court that served as an airstrip for the fireknights. A few others were out and about, but they only saluted to Anders and bowed to Reynold before continuing about their business. Once they were in the middle of the field, Anders climbed up into the saddle behind Reynold. Once he’d strapped himself in, he reached both arms around the boy and took hold of the reins.

“You ready?”

“Ready!”

Anders grinned. “Alright then. Mirja! Takeoff in three… two… one!”

The phoenix spread her wings, and leapt into the sky in a rush of green and gold feathers. The wind of their passage buffeted at Anders and Reynold as Mirja circled upwards, steadily gaining altitude until they were high enough that they could see the entirety of Solis far below, white buildings glittering in the sunlight and the people so small they might have been ants.

Reynold was laughing breathily, his heart pounding from the adrenaline rush. After a moment, he cautiously looked down, simultaneously awed and a little frightened by how up they were. “Wow, that… that’s Solis down there, right?”

“It is,” Anders confirmed. “The houses look like toys from way up here, don’t they? You wouldn’t even realize the shape of the city from the ground, but something I’ve always thought when I look down at it from up here is that it kind of looks like a sun- the circle of the walled inner city as the sun itself, with the houses of the outer city like rays reaching out.”

“Hey, yeah, it does,” Reynold agreed. He looked over the city for a moment, amazed at how different it looked from the sky. “And there’s Jade Manor!”

Anders laughed, “Because we see things up here from a perspective most people don’t, fireknights historically helped to draw a lot of the maps of Corvus. That’s why the terrain maps of unsettled lands here are some of the most accurate in all of Kyth.”

He gave the boy a gentle tap on the shoulder with the hand that was still in a brace, then pointed over Mirja’s shoulder. “You’ve looked down- now why don’t you try looking out?”

Reynold continued looking down at Solis for a few moments, before taking the suggestion and looking out at the view around them. It was stunning—he could see for miles, gazing out over the lush greenery that surrounded the city. He could see the river that ran by the city to the east, and the Ash Road… he wondered if he could spot Joffery’s carriage from here—or if Joffery could see him, for that matter—though it would be hard to tell from such a distance.

“It’s amazing,” he remarked. Again, he laughed. “It all looks so different from up here!”

“It’s like a completely different world,” Anders agreed. “When I’m up here with Mirja, and everything below looks so small and far away, sometimes it helps me feel like it’s all not really so important. The politics and noble infighting and what have you. The world is so much bigger than one city or one family, and there’s so much in it.”

“Yeah,” Reynold admitted, gazing out on the scenery thoughtfully. “Everything seems so small from up here…”

The fireknight gave a gentle tug on Mirja’s reins, and she turned away from Solis, flying south along the Kingfisher River. As the flew, he lapsed into silence, letting Reynold take in the scenery and the simple joy of flying. His thoughts drifted as he looked to the river below. There hadn’t been much rain that year, and while no one was really too worried about it yet, to his eyes the level of the water below seemed somewhat lower than usual. The earlier cloud cover without any actual rainfall was happening fairly frequently of late, instead of the nasty storms that usually swept the Corvid capital this time of year.

Dismissing the thought, he leaned forwards, putting an arm around Reynold’s shoulders and holding on to the saddle horn with the other hand. “Hold on tight,” he said in Reynold’s ear, and whistled to Mirja. With a high trumpeting call, she pitched into a steep dive, rocketing towards the ground at speed. Reynold yelped in surprise, clinging on tight. Then, with about fifty yards still between her and the silver-blue surface of the river, the phoenix arced back into a horizontal flight path, and then beat her way skywards again.

“Wow!” Reynold said, laughing from the adrenaline rush. “That was so cool!”

“Usually that’s how the phoenixes will go after ground-based troops,” the fireknight explained. “But once we learn how to do it during training it becomes a favorite game for both us and the phoenixes- nothing’s quite as fast as a bird in a dive.”

He leaned around a bit so he could look over the boy’s shoulder towards his face. “Feeling any better now?”

“A lot better, yeah,” Reynold said with a smile. “Thanks, Anders.”

“Glad to hear it,” the fireknight said, tightening his one-armed grip around Reynold’s shoulder in a sort of hug. “Just… don’t tell your dad about that dive. He’d probably have to kill me.”

Reynold laughed at this. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Good,” Anders said, grinning. “I think we have enough time for a little more sightseeing before you have to be home for supper- would you like to see the ruins of an old elf city?”

“Okay!”

Anders whistled to Mirja again, and she pumped her wings, banking eastwards. The fireknight and the young Jade both knew that their problems and frustrations were still waiting back in Solis- but at least for now, as they soared on the winds over the wilds of Corvus, they could forget those troubles. Here there were no inheritances, no insecurities, no regrets. Only the wind in their faces, miles of trees and grass sweeping by below, and the endless blue sky.

[Shinko]

Happy Valentine’s Day, and may I present a special gift to you all! It’s a collab, but whom with? Hmmm… You’ll see. ;3

From a Certain Perspective

SPOILER: Click to show

One day, all of Medieville was sleeping peacefully. But then a monster came, and it roared really loudly and everyone was scared. So the king called for the bravest and most fearless brave knight he knew.

“Sir Sieg,” King Galateo said, “there’s a monster attacking”

Sieg gasped. “Oh no!”

“You have to beat the monster, Sieg,” the king said. “You and Orrin. You’re the heroes and you’re the bravest, bestest knights in all of Kyth. So you’re the only ones who can do it.”

“We’ll do the best we can,” said Orrin, who was also there.

When to knights left the king, Sieg looked at Orrin and he blushed, like he does a lot. “I’m scared, Orrin. What if we can’t beat the monster?”

“Don’t worry, Sieg!” Orrin said. “We can do it! We’re brave and strong and fearless! We do everything together, and you’re the bestest knight I know in all of Kyth!”

Sieg blushed more. He never said it to anybody because he was scared, but it was obvious that he was secretly in love with Orrin. Like Orrin said they did everything together and saved each other and they were both awesome cool knights. But Sieg was too shy and blushed a lot and Orrin was afraid because Sieg always said he didn’t love him, but really he did.

So Sieg and Orrin went out, and the two of them saw the monster that was attacking the town. It had Leif in its claws and Sieg gasped again, because Leif was his friend and the super awesome archmage and if he couldn’t beat the monster who could? But Sieg had to save his friend, his just a friend and not his secretly-in-love-with-him-friend Orrin.

“I’ll beat you!” Sieg yelled at the monster, running to it with his sword. Orrin gasped, putting out one of his four arms.

“Sieg, no, it’s a trap!” Orrin yelled. Sieg didn’t hear, and the monster roared and knocked Sieg down. Orrin gasped, and he was very, very angry. When Orrin gets angry he opens his mouth and shows his sharp, pointy teeth, and he did that when the monster knocked Sieg down. Because he was in love with Sieg and how dare the monster hurt him?!

“I’ll get you now, monster!” Orrin yelled, running to the monster and hitting it with his sword. The monster only had two hands, and Orrin had four, so Orrin was way more awesome than the monster and he knocked it down.

“Oh no!” the monster said, “I can’t beat you because you are big and strong and you have way more arms than me!”

“I showed you!” Orrin said. “You can’t beat the bravest, bestest knights in all of Kyth!”

“Orrin, you saved me!” Sieg said. Orrin smiled and helped Sieg stand up.

“Of course I did, Sieg. We do everything together. Don’t you know? I’m in love with you, and we should totally get married and be together forever.” Orrin said.

Sieg turned really, REALLY red, like he does sometimes. He said, “Orrin, I love you too! But I can’t marry you, because I’m too short and I can’t reach to kiss you.”

Orrin was sad, but then suddenly Xavier came. Xavier was their friend and a super awesome mage. The bestest mage in all of Kyth, secretly better even than Leif. But don’t tell Leif because he’d be jealous of how awesome Xavier is. Then Xavier said, “It’s okay Sieg, I can fix it!”

Then Xavier waved his magic wand, and suddenly Sieg was taller! Sieg cheered, and Orrin cheered, and the two of them gave each other a big hug because of how much they loved each other. Then, Sieg and Orrin leaned in close and-

* * * * *

“Ciro?”

At the sound of his father’s voice, Ciro froze, putting both hands over the parchment. “Um… yes?” he said, trying hard to act casual as Xavier opened the door and poked his head into the boy’s room. “I’m just - just working on those spell problems you gave me yesterday!” he said brightly.

“Really?” Xavier looked pleased. “Let me see.”

Oh no! “They’re - ah - they’re not ready yet,” Ciro stammered, but it was no use. His father only looked more curious at his attempts to hide the paper, and when he held out his hand for it Ciro had no choice but to give it to him.

Xavier scanned the boy’s writing. His lips twitched. Then he had to put his hand over his mouth, and stood like that for some time before managing to speak. “Ciro… this…” Ciro looked away, blushing with embarrassment, but Xavier only patted him on the shoulder. “It’s very creative, but I think we should talk about how Sieg and Orrin don’t feel that way about each other.”

“But they’re always together,” Ciro muttered, self-conscious. “I just thought it would be nice if… they…”

Xavier chuckled. “Well, we can talk about that later. For now, I came to get you for magic practice with Uncle Leif. Are you ready?”

Relieved to change the subject, Ciro jumped to his feet. “Of course! Let me grab my wand!”

He dashed off, and while he wasn’t looking, Xavier quietly pocketed the parchment. There was no chance he was going to pass up the chance to tease Sieg later.

End Notes

SPOILER: Click to show

Collabed with Elcie! Ha ha, you thought it was Omni didn’t you? Though a special thanks goes out to Omni for being a good sport and letting me abuse use Orrin for this.

Somewhere the REAL Sieg has a chill going down his spine and he knows not why.

[Shinko]

Collab with PFA

Ghost of the Past

SPOILER: Click to show

“Reynold, I just… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“And why not?” Reynold huffed. “I’m fifteen years old; that’s how old Joffery was when he first started handling diplomatic business!”

“I know that,” Everett said, “and it’s not that I don’t think you’re old enough, it’s just—”

“I can do it! Please?” Reynold pleaded. “I can handle it, I promise!”

“Reynold, it’s…” Everett groaned, pinching his brow in frustration. How was he supposed to say this? “…It’s House Escalus, Reynold.”

This gave Reynold brief pause. “…What?”

“Lord Escalus will be coming to Solis to formally introduce his heir. …Lord Filipe,” Everett explained carefully. “I know how good of friends you are with Sir Anders, and I just… I worry you might be too personally involved.”

Reynold was silent at first, thinking on this. It was definitely not what he was expecting—he didn’t know all the details of Anders’ past, only that he was the eldest son of Lord Olander Escalus, disinherited in favor of his younger brother. Reynold had never met Anders’ family, but since he already had that negative association… it was no wonder his father was concerned.

“…That’s okay,” he said eventually. “I can handle it.”

Everett frowned. “Are you sure?”

“If I want to be a good diplomat, I can’t be biased, right?” was Reynold’s response. “I just want to help.”

There was silence again as Everett thought on this. He seemed conflicted for a while, but finally, he gave a relenting sigh. “…Alright, if you’re sure. But you need to promise me that you will not mention Anders.”

Reynold shook his head. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Everett sighed. ‘Woo help him if anything went wrong with this meeting. “Either way, we should make certain everything is ready for their arrival…”

* * * * *

Normally Filipe might have been a bit frustrated that the storm building overhead broke just as the blue and orange Escalus carriage was arriving in front of Jade manor. However, given that the past four years had been spent with almost no rain anywhere in Kyth, he met the sight of rain splattering on the windows of the carriage with a slight smile. It was a sign that things were finally getting back to normal.

Their trip to Solis was yet another sign of the improving times. At twenty-four years old Filipe should have made a formal visit to Solis to be introduced to the Jades long before now. While the drought was going, however, no one had wanted to waste the resources for such a relatively unimportant journey. But given the tremendous to-do that House Escalus had experienced over its inheritance, Lord Escalus was eager to finally formalize Filipe’s heirship and put the last of the difficulties behind him.

“Something amuse you?” a female voice remarked, and Filipe turned to see the dark brown eyes and fiery hair of his wife, Annabelle. His marriage to her was something of a complicated mess in and of itself. Annabelle was a peasant, and many scoffed at the idea of her being wed to the heir of a noble house. But she was a very, very talented war mage, and Olander had hoped that by marrying her to his son, he could reinvigorate the magic that seemed to be fading from the Escalus line. It was as political a marriage as one to a noble might have been, but to Filipe’s relief he got on with Annabelle quite well. She was strong willed, stubborn, and full of pride, making up for the young lord’s deficits in all of these areas, but she was also thoughtful and understanding, allowing her to support her husband rather than overshadowing him.

“Just glad to see Corvus getting back to its usual stormy self,” he replied, letting his smile widen. “Things were so dreary for so long, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to have storms every night.”

“It’s definitely nice to have things back to normal,” Olander, Filipe’s father, agreed from the seat across from them. “Though I won’t pretend I’m looking forward to the soaking waiting for us when we step out at the gates of the manor. I suppose it would have been too much to ask for it to wait five minutes.”

“Well we can always use an umbrella spell once we climb out,” Annabelle suggested, pulling her wand out of its holster and flicking it upwards meaningfully.

“Possible, but I worry it would offend the Jade Lord,” Olander explained. “He has no magic, so the rumors say, and if he does not have mages out with him to shield him from the rain, it would be rude of us to protect ourselves while he is forced to be wet.”

“Ah,” Annabelle said, nodding. Filipe fiddled with one of the fingers on his glove, this reminder making him nervous. Given how he’d come to be in the position of Olanders heir, would the magic-less Jade lord have negative feelings towards him?

Finally, the carriage came to a halt, and a few seconds later a servant opened the door, allowing Olander to emerge. Filipe followed his father closely, holding out a hand to help Annabelle after him. Even with the rain starting to plaster his short-cropped pale brown hair to his head, Olander still made for an impressive image. He had eyes the same dark grey as the storm clouds overhead, and even though he was over fifty years old he was still as fit and muscular as a young warrior. Filipe was slightly shorter than his father, with his own pale brown hair much longer and tied back in a braid behind his head. He didn’t share the grey eyes- his were instead a bright, sky blue. All of them were dressed in Escalus colors, not their finest clothes but still very good and impressive- though less so for the water beginning to saturate them.

“Welcome to Jade Manor,” came the voice of Lord Everett as the Escalus nobles approached the manor. He was accompanied by a couple of House Jade’s mages—who did indeed seem to be using their magic to protect him from the rain—and a black-haired teenaged boy who could only be Everett’s son. “It’s good to see you made it here safely.”

Seeing the mages protecting Lord Everett, the Escaluses wordlessly withdrew their own wands to cast protective shields against the storm. They bowed to the Jade lord, and inclined their head to his son. Olander was the first to speak.

“Lord Jade, it has been far too long. I am glad to see you well.” He gestured at Filipe, who stepped forwards. “May I formally present my son and heir, Lord Filipe Escalus, and his wife Lady Annabelle Escalus?”

“So this is Lord Filipe,” Everett remarked. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking as he looked at Filipe analytically for a few moments, before finally turning his attention to Annabelle. “And Lady Annabelle. It’s good to meet you both.”

Filipe had to force himself not to hunch his shoulders, instead meeting Lord Everett’s gaze squarely. “I-It’s good to meet you as well, my lord,” he said. Turning his attention to the black haired youth he added, “And you as well, young Lord Jade.”

The boy nodded in greeting, a moment later remembering to introduce himself. “Uh, Reynold. I’m Lord Reynold.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintances, Lord Everett, Lord Reynold,” Annabelle said, curtseying with one hand while using the other to keep her wand up to shield herself from the rain.

“It’s good to see Solis as wet as I remember it from my last visit,” Olander remarked, extending a hand out from under his shield to let the drops hit his palm. “We’ve labored under the effects of that drought for far too long. I take it your family is happy for the return of the rains as well?”

“Yes, certainly,” Everett replied. He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, but didn’t comment further. “Speaking of which, perhaps we should move inside? End of the drought or not, it would be good to get out of the rain.”

“Certainly,” Olander agreed, bowing his head again. “I’m certain that we can conduct our business much better within the drier confines of your manor.”

As the two lords were speaking, Filipe became momentarily distracted by the sound of rapid footfalls splashing on wet pavement. His eyes flickered in the direction of the noise, and he saw someone wearing what looked to be some sort of military-issue rain cloak coming around one of the walls of the manor. Whoever it was, they were moving quickly, presumably to minimize the time they would be spending out in the rain. The person skidded to a stop as they seemed to notice the party of nobles standing out in the rain, and glanced up just in time for Filipe to get a good look at their face. His stomach swooped, and he had to jerk his head back towards Olander to confirm that his father was indeed still standing beside him. The person within the hood was the image of Filipe’s father, if Olander had been twenty years younger…

No, it couldn’t…

Filipe turned again, and met the man’s eyes- dark grey eyes, that were alight with recognition as he too looked at Filipe. The man in the raincloak clenched his jaw, taking a step backwards, seeming to be somehow torn. There was obvious pain in his expression as he looked into Filipe’s eyes. It was a face that the heir to House Escalus hadn’t seen since he was eleven years old, but there could be no mistaking it. Timidly, the young nobleman said, “...Anders?”

Everett winced at the sound of the name, glancing toward the speaker. He followed Filipe’s gaze, and sure enough, there was Sir Anders, his face twisted in a mask of shock, anger, and something akin to fear. Everett struggled to keep his expression level, not failing to notice Reynold’s own look of horror. After a moment, the Jade lord cautiously glanced at Olander.

Olander’s head had snapped around at Filipe’s tentative call, and his eyes fixed on his eldest son. It was difficult to say what the lord of House Escalus was thinking. His previously jovial expression had gone completely blank, leaving his face an emotionless mask. Anders’ gaze flicked between Filipe and Olander, and he opened his mouth as if to speak- then closed it again. Facing Everett, Anders bowed jerkily, and immediately turned and fled from the courtyard.

“Wait!” Filipe called, putting out a hand futilely towards his brother. He clenched his teeth as the end of Anders cloak disappeared around the wall, going back in the direction he’d come. Olander did not call to his son, though he watched him until he’d completely vanished from sight. Turning back towards Lord Everett, Olander took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

“I believe… you were about to escort us inside?” he said, his voice very carefully neutral.

Everett refrained from pinching his brow in frustration, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Of all the ways this meeting could have gone wrong, it had to be this. “…Yes, we were,” he replied, turning to move toward the manor again. “Come along, then.”

Reynold grimaced, taking a few tentative steps to follow them to the manor before stopping again, glancing in the direction Anders had gone. He knew that expression, the bitterness and resentment that he was all too familiar with… but he had never seen Anders act like that before. He bit his lip, wondering what to do. He wanted to help his father with the diplomatic business, he really wanted to… but at the same time, he was really concerned about Anders.

“Uh, my lord?” came a whispered voice, one of the mages. Apparently he had stayed behind to keep his Umbrellicum spell over Reynold, but gestured ahead to indicate the distance between them and the rest of the group.

“Uh, r-right, yeah,” Reynold mumbled, hurrying to catch up with the others. As soon as he got the chance, he’d have to check on his friend, he decided.

* * * * *

Anders finally managed to escape from the lecture that the Major delivered him for failing to convey the message he’d been sent to Lord Everett with, and for refusing to go back out and actually complete the task he’d been set. The Flight Lieutenant of the third wing had never been so flagrantly insubordinate as to refuse an order before, and the reaming he had to endure was an exhausting one. On top of the fact that he was already off balance, by the time Anders was turned loose he felt extremely battered.

What are Father and Filipe doing here? he thought as he walked through the continuing storm. I’ve heard nothing of anything bad happening down south… What would provoke them to come all the way to Solis?

Logically Anders knew that any number of things could have been the reason for the trip, but that knowledge did nothing to lessen the emotional punch in the gut that he’d received when he and Filipe locked eyes for the first time in over a decade. Or worse, when he’d looked towards his father and seen not a jot of reaction from the man to seeing his long lost son…

Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, Anders picked up his pace, running through the storm until he reached the yard that the fireknights used to train themselves in knife fighting. Taking up one of the wooden practice weapons, Anders stood opposite the pells and began to viciously attack them. There was no technique, no finesse, only raw and unbridled emotion as he lashed out against the dummies. He didn’t know when he started shouting, but once the angry cries started he couldn’t bring himself to silence them.

It was then that young Lord Reynold found himself at the fireknights’ training compound, this time alone, and with a rain cloak of his own to shield him from the rain. It didn’t take him long to find Anders, but when he did, he hesitated for a while, unsure what to say. Finally, he tentatively spoke up, hoping that the fireknight would hear him over his own shouting. “Anders…?”

Anders’ shoulders hitched up, and he spun around, half-expecting to see one of his superiors come to lecture him about the spectacle he was no doubt making of himself. However, a moment later his defensive posture eased somewhat, and the anger in his face was mitigated somewhat by surprise.

“Reynold? What… I-I’m sorry did you… did you need something?” He winced, averting his gaze. “Sorry, I… I don’t think I’m going to be great company right now.”

“No, no, I…” Reynold cleared his throat. Here went nothing. “Actually, I was worried about, uh… you?”

“Me?” Anders echoed, surprised. Well he had been out in the middle of the storm shouting, but that wouldn’t have drawn Reynold from the manor in the first place. How would he…

Then it hit the fireknight- he’d not even registered it earlier, as distracted as he was by the presence of his family, but Reynold had been there standing next to Lord Everett to greet the Escalus nobles. He’d seen the fireknight bolt like a frightened rabbit. Anders covered his face with a hand, embarrassment now warring with the resentment he was already struggling with. “Oh, Woo, you saw that? I… I’m sorry Reynold, that was… it surprised me.”

His free hand clenched into a fist as he spoke, and his shoulders were rising again. “Thank you, I… that was very stupid, how I reacted. More than ten years on, I really should be able to keep myself together better than that. Lord Everett must… I should apologize to him later.”

Reynold frowned, taking a few cautious steps closer. Anders was trying to brush it off, but he was still obviously upset. “It… still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Anders lowered the hand that he was covering his face with, sighing. “Not… not the disinheriting, no. I lost interest in being a lord a long, long time ago, when I was given a place here that would let me earn respect and authority by my own abilities. I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see Fath- I, I mean, Lord Olander.”

That man gave up the right to be called my father a long time ago, he thought bitterly, his face twisting into a scowl in spite of his attempts to keep his emotions in check.

This wasn’t missed by Reynold, who bit his lip a little hesitantly. This wasn’t something the boy was used to—in fact, usually it was Anders who was trying to comfort him—but he knew he had to say something. “Y-yeah, that… that must be really hard. …I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Anders said, shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologize. All of this… it happened before you were even born.” He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “I really am sorry, I must have looked like such a hypocrite. I try to help you through your frustrations but as soon as I’m faced with a reminder of my own I run away like a coward.”

“I guess I’m a hypocrite too, then,” Reynold replied, giving a small awkward smile. Then, after a moment’s thought, he continued. “I guess you don’t need to hear me say I know what it’s like to be frustrated. And my problems aren’t really the same as yours, but…” He took a deep breath. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The offer caught Anders by surprise, and for a moment he seemed at a loss for what to say. Part of him instinctively wanted to insist that he’d be fine, and dismiss the issue. He didn’t want to burden a child with his personal problems. But… Reynold wasn’t really a child anymore. In another year he’d legally be allowed to marry. Granted, the Jade could still be pretty immature at times, but clearly this was not one of those times.

“...I can get pretty caustic when this topic comes up,” Anders said slowly, feeling that the boy deserved the benefit of the warning. “When I was younger I was downright nasty a lot of the time, and though I’ve reigned that in for the most part I can still lose my temper when this gets talked about. Are you… are you sure you’re alright with this?”

“I might as well try,” Reynold told him. “I mean… you’re my friend, after all. It’s the least I can do.”

The fireknight sighed. “Alright, if… if you’re sure. I guess we should get out of this rain though, I don’t want you to be repaid for worrying about me by getting sick. But this time of day there’s probably people in the mews…”

“Um…” Reynold paused, thinking on this. “Is there somewhere quiet we can go? Like, um… maybe your office?”

The fireknight smiled wanly, nodding, “That’s probably a good idea, I should have suggested it myself. I can’t really think straight right now… Ugh, I have a headache, I think I need some tea when we get inside.”

Anders put away the practice dagger, and walked past Reynold with a gesture for the younger man to follow him. As the two of them walked through the rain towards the building where the officers had their meetings, Anders said softly, “I presume your father has told you that the Corvid nobility is losing its magic? And that this is considered to be a major problem?”

“Yeah,” Reynold replied, frowning. He had plenty of his own thoughts on the subject, but this wasn’t the time. “What… what about it?”

Anders bit his lip, his eyes glazed with thought. “In your lessons, have you covered Heleos’ primary source of income yet?”

“Um…” Reynold thought for a moment. “…Magic?”

Anders gave a soft exhale that might have been interpreted as a laugh had his expression been less bitter. He opened the door to the officers wing of the fireknight compound to let Reynold inside, and as they headed down the hallway to his office, he said, “In a manner of speaking. Heleos has a mage college that specializes in war magic. It’s called the Iphicles Institute. Named for my ancestor Iphicles Escalus, the first Lord Escalus who rode the first orange and blue phoenix into battle with the other eight founding lords of Corvus.”

The arrived and Anders’ office door, and the fireknight led the way inside, hanging his wet cloak from a nearby hook before sitting down with an exhausted sigh behind his desk. Reynold took a seat opposite of him, looking up at him expectantly. Rubbing his aching temples, Anders went on, “Traditionally, House Escalus have been the leaders of the magical division of Corvus’ armed forces. The commanders of our war mages. To that end, the lord of House Escalus is always trained at the Institute to be a war mage himself, to better his understanding of the craft so that he may more effectively lead those armies.”

Anders sounded very, very tired as he added, “But one day, one of the lords of the house had a son who was not blessed with the great gift of the Woo that is magic. He was an ordinary man, for whom a magic wand might as well have been a twig for all the use it was. The lord was devastated, of course, but what was he to do?”

Sarcasm crept into the fireknight’s voice now. “The boy did everything in his power to compensate for his tragic deficit. He almost never played as a child, instead focusing on his studies to the exclusion of all else. His hours at liberty were spent practicing and studying, and he worked to keep up excellent marks in all of his classes. But the poor, pathetic, unblessed child would never be good enough, not really.”

“That’s terrible,” Reynold remarked, his own face twisted into a scowl at the thought. He looked down at his hands thoughtfully. None of his own family had magic, so the thought of something like that happening…

Anders laughed bitterly. “Lord Olander made a show of congratulating me for my outstanding scholarly achievements, but I could tell it was all perfunctory. I would never be anything but a disappointment. And then… one day, in the gardens, my little brother Filipe started to turn the roses unnatural colors. Idiot that I was, I was actually excited about it, because I thought he could give Olander the mage son he’d always wanted, so that it wasn’t so bad that I was a normal man. And I was right… but for the wrong reasons.”

He clenched his jaw, looking off to the side. “I was nine years old at the time. Nine years of throwing away my own childhood to prove my worth. It wasn’t even a month after we discovered my four year old brother’s magic that I was disinherited in favor of Filipe.”

“He disinherited you just because you didn’t have magic?” Reynold asked, bristling a little. “That’s just… I mean, wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”

The fireknight snorted softly. “He did try to justify it. He said that if we allowed the Escalus line to lose its magic, we’d become too distant from magery to effectively command the warmage armies. We’d need advisors, which would cost precious time and the advisor’s services in actual combat. And that the border lords needed to be as strong as possible, because of the threat of Courdon. But I…”

His voice caught in his throat, and the anger seemed to run out of him, leaving only a very deep sadness. “At nine years old, all I really registered was that my father, the man I respected more than anyone else in the world, was telling me I wasn’t good enough,” he admitted. “I never really cared about being the heir, and I don’t care about it now. I just wanted to be acknowledged. To… to…”

Reynold frowned. Anders didn’t need to finish; he could already guess what he was going to say. “It’s hard,” he agreed carefully, “when it feels like you’re not appreciated.”

Anders glanced back and Reynold, smiling wanly. “I guess you know all too well, hm?” He sighed. “I tried to move on from it. But I was just… so upset, all the time. Every time Olander praised my brother, or congratulated him on some accomplishment, I was reminded of how nothing I’d done was ever enough to make him so sincerely happy. I just kept getting angrier, and angrier… Father and I started fighting. A lot. Eventually I realized that my bitterness was going to eat me alive if I stayed there. So I left. I didn't tell anyone except for one of my other brothers, Dimitri. I just left a letter behind, and came here to Solis, where I had your father formally dissolve my legal ties to House Esaclus.”

The fireknight shook his head. “That’s the long and the short of it. I really thought I’d gotten past the resentment, but when I…”

A shadow of pain came into Anders’ eyes as he remembered the emotional jolt of seeing his brother’s face again after so long. The familiar pang of raw disappointment when Olander looked at him without caring. His hands, resting on his desk, clenched into fists again as he tried to wrestle back the upwelling of old frustration.

Reynold looked on sympathetically. He was all-too-familiar with the bitterness Anders was describing, though maybe not to quite the same level—at least with Reynold, he was constantly reassured that his father still cared about him. If he had to go through what Anders was describing… Reynold didn’t know if he could handle it, honestly.

“I can only imagine how that must feel,” Reynold offered. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Anders replied, shaking his head. “And honestly I am happy here. I don’t have magic, but I do have my skills in physical combat and my intelligence, which is what matters to the fireknights. It just… it hit me pretty hard, seeing my family again. Or well,” his face hardened. “Seeing House Escalus again. They stopped being my family a long time ago.”

“…Yeah.” Reynold bit his lip, not sure what to say. He couldn’t speak for House Escalus, he didn’t know what they thought—and even if he did, Anders probably wouldn’t listen to him. Again, he knew all too well how resentment overcame things like logic and reason. But he wanted to say something reassuring…

“I mean, for what it’s worth, you’re definitely appreciated here,” Reynold told him. “And, um… I, for one, really respect you.”

Anders glanced at Reynold, startled by the remark. Then he smiled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Thank you, Reynold. That means a lot. And I’m sorry if I worried you- thank you for coming to check up on me.” He looked concerned now. “Is your father angry with me? I… sort of put whatever meeting he was conducting off on an incredibly awkward foot.”

“Um… I don’t know about angry, per se,” Reynold admitted carefully. “But he probably would appreciate an apology.”

The fireknight massaged his temples wearily. “I’ll be sure to do that, but it should probably wait until the… visitors have left. The last thing we need is me blundering into them again. In the meantime, could you let him know that I’m sorry about what happened when you head back? I was delivering a message from one of my higher-ups, but I… just had impeccably awful timing.”

Reynold nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

A thought struck Anders, and he felt a faint flush crawling across the nape of his neck. “Ah, wait, if you were there… I completely wrecked your first diplomatic job, didn’t I? Woo above, I am so sorry, Reynold. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to getting more responsibilities.”

“…It’s okay,” Reynold replied carefully. “I mean, there will be other times.”

“I’m still sorry,” Anders insisted. “But thank you. If you hadn’t come after me I’d probably have just kept venting at the pells in the rain until I made myself sick. It wouldn't be the first time, though I’ve not done that in years.”

Reynold smiled weakly. “I’m glad I could help.”

Anders glanced back out at the window, and saw that the storm was still going strong outside. “For now… would you like to come with me to the officer’s mess? I could get you something warm to eat or drink. It’s the least I can do after you came all the way out here in the rain.” Rubbing his temples again he added, “And I really do need some tea or something for my head.”

“Yeah, sure,” Reynold said. “Sounds good.”

Anders stood, stretching the muscles that had gone tight from being coiled and cramped. As he lead the way out the door, he asked, “So, if I might be permitted a bit of curiosity- is Filipe still as timid and skittish as I remember from when we were kids?”

Reynold blinked, not quite sure how to react to the question. “Um… I guess so?”

Anders smiled wanly and shook his head. “Nevermind.” He patted the young man on the back. “How about instead I tell you what I remember of House Escalus and how best to flatter them- and avoid insulting them- so that next time you go back you can impress your dad in your dealings with them?”

“Oh, uh… sure,” Reynold replied. “But only if you’re up for it.”

“I did study politics for nine years before I was disinherited, and I lived in Heleos for sixteen,” the fireknight pointed out. “Someone might as well benefit from what I know, and if you can turn the talks with Olander around after that fiasco I caused earlier, it’s sure to make Lord Everett happy- and I do kind of owe you for mucking things up so much in the first place.”

Reynold thought on this for a moment. Then, he smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Alright then!” Anders said, his good humor returning. “First thing to keep in mind is that Olander is inordinately proud of the Iphicles Institute- if you get him talking about it and actually seem interested in what he’s saying, he’ll be happy as a lark. Filipe is at the age where he probably just graduated, so you could use that as a segue into the conversation…”

[Shinko]

Tell Me Everything

SPOILER: Click to show

It was an unusually sunny afternoon for a Corvid summer. Then again, that had been the case for the past few years. A drought had most of Kyth in its grip, and the “rainy season” had become something of a “marginally less dry” season. Kolanth wasn’t hit quite as hard as the westernmost parts of Corvus nearer to Kine, but nowhere was really in good shape.

But aside from it being uncomfortably hot for the long-sleeves shirt he by necessity always wore, Sieg Braham wasn’t really worried about the drought at that moment. He had something far more pleasant on his mind.

A puff of air on the back of his neck warmed him to plant his feet just seconds before his horse, Freya, gave him a hard shove with her nose. “Hey, cut that out,” he admonished her. She whickered in reply, shaking her head so that sweat from her coat was sent flying everywhere. Sieg grimaced, wiping his face on a sleeve. “I know you’re hot, and I’m sorry. I am too. I promise we’ll get back into the shade of the forest in a bit. Just be patient for a little longer.”

Freya’s ears flattened against her head, but she didn’t make any more aggressive overtures. He patted her neck consolingly. She was a temperamental horse, but a dependable one, and worth her weight in gold on the battlefield. For a knight like Sieg, she was a perfect partner, even if she could be difficult.

The creak of wooden wheels and the sound of hoofbeats that weren’t Freya’s drew Sieg’s attention back to the road, and he turned to see a small covered wagon coming around the road. He smiled, walking up to meet it with Freya’s reigns in one hand. The wagon came to a stop, and a minute later a familiar young woman climbed out of the back of it.

“Heya Ophee,” he said cheerfully in Elvish, pulling his sister into a hug before she’d even fully planted her feet on the ground. She squeaked in surprise, then laughed and returned the hug.

“Sieg, you moron, you couldn’t wait two more seconds?” Ophelia demanded, pulling away and giving him a light punch on the shoulder.

“Nope,” he replied cheerfully. “Not when I haven’t seen you since the end of April. And not when you owe me so much juicy gossip- your last letter was far from informative. ‘I’m dating a fireknight now. No biggie, just in case you were curious. Hugs and kisses, your dear darling sister who needs to share more of the juicy details.’”

The young woman looked startled by that statement. Then she blushed, averting her gaze. “I was worried you… you might be…”

“Be what?” Sieg replied, confused by her reaction. They teased each other all the time, and usually Ophelia replied with some shade of snark. “Phee, I… I was just kidding around, what’s the matter?”

She glanced back at him, uncertainty in her eyes. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset?” Sieg replied, completely flummoxed now. “Why in the name of the Woo would I be upset?”

Ophelia didn’t answer right away, instead watching as the wagon that she’d rented to carry her back to Kolanth pulled off. When it had gone, she turned back to Sieg and muttered, “Well I thought you might be… a little jealous.”

The half-elven knight frowned. “Jealous? Woo above, Phee, what sort of selfish fool do you take me for?”

“W-well I just… I mean since Mama left you…”

Sieg winced, looking away. Oh, that. He pushed away the rush of old sadness that hit him at the reminder, smiling neutrally and turning back to his sister. “I’m a big boy, Phee, I’m not going to throw a tantrum because my little sister and best friend is playing with other kids.” The expression softened, becoming far more sincere as he added, “Really, I’m happy for you, Ophelia. I know how long you’ve wanted this.”

The younger half-elf visibly relaxed, smiling back at her brother. “Sorry for underestimating you, Sieg. I just worry.”

“You don’t need to,” he insisted, his expression becoming somewhat forced again. “I’m fine, really.”

Ophelia looked unconvinced, but fortunately Freya chose that moment to give Sieg’s shoulder another pointed shove, sparing him from continuing the argument. “Alright, alright, spare me your righteous wrath, princess,” he told the horse tartly. He swung himself up into Freya’s saddle, and held out an arm to help his sister climb up behind him. “C’mon, the sooner we get a move on the sooner we can jump in the river- it’s a lot lower than usual but still deep enough to be wonderful after an hour’s ride in the sun.”

“Sounds good,” Ophelia replied with a smile, taking her brother’s hand and hoisting herself up onto the horse. “So what exactly do you want to know about my boyfriend then?”

Sieg snorted, nudging Freya along the road that would lead out of Kolanth and back to his and Ophelia’s hometown of Nid’aigle. “Something other than the fact that he’s a fireknight- a name would be a good start.”

“Cai,” she replied automatically. “His name is Cai Shahar.”

“Cai,” Sieg repeated, “Well that’s easy enough to remember. Go on.”

Ophelia gave a mocking groan. “You’re not going to let up until I’ve told you everything there is to know about the man, are you?”

“I’m your brother,” he retorted with a smirk. “Cross-examining your boyfriends to make sure they aren’t creepers is my job.”

“Oh please,” Ophelia said, rolling her eyes. “I daresay I am a decent enough judge of character that I could identify a potential creeper far quicker than you could.”

“Shhhhh, you’ll undermine my big bro-ness,” Sieg said. “Come oooooon already, Phee, talk! I know you want to!”

“Alright already, sheesh,” Ophelia relented with a laugh. “Well, like I said in my letter, he’s a fireknight for the Jades. I met him the last time I was in Solis for my Low Courdonian lessons and made friends, but this time… it evolved, I guess. He’s quiet and reserved, usually, but he’s a really sweet guy once you get to know him. Curious about everything, though he likes animals and cartography in particular. He’s around your height, maybe a little shorter. Dark skin, black hair. He has two different colors in his eyes, green and a pale brownish-amber that really stands out against his face. They’re…” she trailed off, her voice becoming distant and gentle, almost as if she were talking to herself, “They’re really pretty, especially when he smiles.”

Sieg chuckled, and his sister bristled. “What, what’s so funny?”

“Not a thing,” he replied cheerfully. “Do go on, Phee, tell me all about your boyfriend’s gorgeous multicolored eyes.”

Ophelia swatted him on the back of the head, earning another chuckle. “You are such a brat sometimes,” she informed him. He only laughed harder.

“Ophelia, I have never known you to get this flustered about anything,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You tease me all the time- it’s only fair that I return the favor now that I have some decent ammunition.”

She rolled her eyes, giving a theatrical sigh. “Siblings. Can’t live with them, and it’s illegal to murder them in their sleep.”

“So when do I get to meet him?” Sieg asked cheerfully. Ophelia blinked, surprised by the question.

“You want to?” she asked. He shrugged, looking over his shoulder at her again.

“Of course, if you think he’ll last long-term,” the knight replied. “I mean come on, anyone who can actually put up with you is someone I need to get into contact with, if only to ask for advice.”

“You. Are. A. Brat!” Ophelia snarled playfully, swatting Sieg as each word emerged from her mouth. He laughed, pushing against her chest with his back as if trying to shove her off the saddle behind him.

“Seriously though,” he added, once the two of them had settled again. “I am happy for you, Phee. I hope it works out for you.”

She smiled, plopping her chin down on her brother’s shoulder. “I do too. I… I’ve never been happier, Sieg.”

“You deserve it,” he said, leaning the side of his head against the side of hers. “Now c’mon, that can’t be all you’ve got to say about the man. I want all the juicy details.”

[Shinko]

We've Always Been Together

SPOILER: Click to show

Ophelia moaned softly, turning over in bed and pulling the blankets tighter around herself. In spite of the relative warmth of the early spring afternoon, she was shivering badly. Belial reached towards the three year old, letting a hand rest on the back of her head. The skin was unnaturally hot, and he sighed with resignation. When his daughter had first started to cough, he’d hoped it was just a cold. Clearly that was not going to be the case. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, his amber eyes bright with concern, Belial gently stroked the child’s back to soothe her.

“Papa?”

The elf turned around, catching sight of a second small, black haired figure standing in the doorway of the room. He frowned, his expression somewhat admonishing. “Sieg, I told you to stay out in the sitting room.”

“But it’s boring out there,” the five year old objected. “I want to play with Phee.”

“You can’t play with her right now,” Belial replied with a sigh. “She’s sick. She needs to rest.”

Sieg tilted his head, looking confused. He started to walk closer, but an admonishing look from his father made him freeze and back out to stand in the doorway again.

“Papa, what’s ‘sick’?”

That question caught the elf by surprise. How was it Sieg didn’t know? Thinking perhaps the boy had simply never heard the word in Elvish, he tried translating it into Kythian. However, the child’s expression remained totally blank.

“It means she’s not feeling well,” the elf finally elaborated. “You know, when you’re cold and achy and you cough. She’s got a flu.”

“Papa, what’s a cough?”

Now Belial was totally flabbergasted. “Sieg, you…”

As if on cue, Ophelia was seized by a fit of retched wheezing. Sieg recoiled in surprise, his shoulders hitching up and his eyes going huge. His sister’s entire body shook from the force of her coughs, and Belial instinctively drew her up and into his arms to comfort her. She whimpered, clenching at his clothes and sobbing quietly.

“That was coughing, Sieg,” he explained wearily. “It hurts, and it makes it hard to breathe right. Don’t you remember when you’ve been…”

It hit Belial at that moment that no, of course Sieg wouldn’t remember from when he’d been sick. His father could not honestly remember the last time the young boy had been ill, if he ever had been. He’d not noticed it before, but it struck Belial that he couldn’t remember Sieg ever even having so much as a sniffle.

The boy waited for his father to finish the thought he’d started. When Belial didn’t, Sieg looked at his sister, biting his lip. “Papa what’s the matter with Phee? Is she gonna be okay?”

The elf sighed. “She’ll… she’ll be fine Sieg.”

At least I hope she will be. Belial thought grimly. He still remembered far too well the last time one of his children had become this sick. Nikki, his poor, dear little boy, the twin Sieg didn’t even remember existing. If Nikolas had lived longer, Sieg definitely would know what illness and coughing was

Shaking off this thought, he smiled wanly at his son. “Please go play, I need to take care of her and I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“But it’s boring by myself,” the boy said softly. He sniffed, his little body quivering. “Please, please can I stay with Phee? I don’t wanna be by myself.”

“Sieg…”

The young boy wasn’t listening. He darted into the room, climbing up on Ophelia’s bed and throwing his tiny arms around both is father and his sister. “She’ll be okay Papa, she will. She has to. I don’t wanna be by myself, it’s boring and… and sad by myself. So she has to be okay, so we can play again.”

The elf sighed, defeated. He couldn’t corral Sieg into the sitting room and care for Ophelia at the same time, but his wife was away at work and would be for another few hours yet. He just prayed to Woo that his son would not get sick too.

* * * * *

“So he didn’t play at all after that?” Morgaine asked incredulously. She had taken the place Belial previously occupied on Ophelia’s bed, holding and comforting the ailing child while her husband sat across the room on Sieg’s bed. Sieg himself was sleeping curled up against his mother’s leg, after having refused the enticement of both his father and his mother offering to take him elsewhere to play.

“I was certain he’d get bored after a time, but if he did he gave no indication of it,” Belial replied, his voice soft so as not to wake either child. “He just kept his vigil over Ophee, insisting she was going to be alright and doing what he could to comfort her. She’s been completely delirious from the fever for most of the afternoon, but at one point she was lucid enough to be aware of his presence. She reached for his hand, and held it for as long as she could- until the fever made her start hallucinating again.”

Morgaine gave the children a small, fond smile. “Well it’s good to see them caring about each other so much. I know siblings can often be incredibly antagonistic, but I wouldn’t wish that for our little ones.”

“It… worries me, honestly,” Belial admitted. “I mean, I agree it’s good they get along, but aught Sieg not be better able to play on his own? He doesn’t understand death, and yet he was completely distraught by the idea of his sister being unwell and unable to entertain him.”

“He’s five years old, Belial,” the locksmith admonished. “Of course he’d be upset. She’s the only friend he has in the world- there are no other children his own age in Nid’aigle for him to play with.”

“Well of course not,” the elf replied, seeming to be utterly baffled. “I’ve told you that elves do not conceive easily. It’s almost unheard of for there to be two children in the city close to the same age at one time.”

Morgaine rolled her eyes, “Yes, I understand that. But it doesn’t negate the fact that children need a certain amount of companionship from others their age for the sake of their emotional health.”

Understanding dawned on Belial, and he looked crestfallen. “I… I think you mean human children need companionship from their peers. This is not so among the elves.” He bit his lip. “’Pit, I had not even stopped to consider that the young ones might have psychological differences due to their hybidism as well as physical ones. I cannot pretend to be an expert on how growing humans develop… what if I unintentionally do something to hurt them?”

“Stop that,” Morgaine chided gently. “What am I, statuary? I’ll help fill in the blanks in your knowledge, I promise. You can do the same for me- I’m not exactly any more versed in the development of immature elves than you are with humans.”

The elf smiled wanly. “I suppose you have a point, yes. Sorry, it’s just… been stressful, with Ophee so ill and Sieg so badly distressed.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Morgaine replied, giving her son’s head a stroke with the hand she wasn’t using to cuddle his sister. “Maybe I should take some time off for a while, to help you until… until she gets better?”

Belial knew instinctively that when Morgaine had hesitated, she’d been thinking of Nikolas. Their little one who got sick and didn’t get better, despite their best efforts. Neither of them was willing to take it for granted that Ophelia would improve. But Morgaine would never admit that, and Belial knew better than to try and reassure her about the issue when it would only upset her more. Instead, he addressed the actual question she’d asked.

“Morgaine, if we are to care for the children, we need money,” he admonished gently. “We can’t afford to take time off of work every time one of them comes down with a chill. I am just fortunate that my knight’s work affords me a good deal of liberty, when I am not on assignment or patrol.”

Glancing down at their son, he added, “Though perhaps if you take Sieg with you to the shop, it will make things a bit easier. I do not like to test this strange immunity he seems to have. For all we know it’s just been luck that has kept him from falling ill until now.”

The locksmith looked down at the sad, tired expression on her son’s face, and nodded. “Alright, I can do that. It’ll be good to get his mind off of it.”

Belial nodded. “It would not do for our little raven to tear out his own feathers with stress. I only wish I had realized sooner it was sincere loneliness and distress that was driving him to behave this way, rather than assuming he was being contrary out of boredom.”

“You’re not a god, Belial, no one can blame you for not realizing he’d take after me in his instincts for companionship,” Morgaine pointed out.

Any further discussion they might have had on the subject was cut off when Ophelia’s wretched, wet coughing started up again. She was breathing shallowly, and a look of panic flashed across Morgaine’s face as she cuddled their daughter closer. Belial had instinctively lurched upright as well, and was kneeling at his wife’s knees with one hand on Morgaine’s shoulder and the other on the back of Ophelia’s head. Sieg, still curled up next to his mother, stirred at the noise, looking up in confusion and fear at his parents.

“Mama, Papa, what’s wrong?” he asked, pushing himself upright. “Why are you sad?”

Morgaine winced, glancing sideways at the child. “We’re sad because Ophee isn’t feeling good, and there’s nothing we can do to make it better. All we can do is wait for it to go away on its own.”

Ophelia moaned softly, burrowing further into the warmth of her mother’s arms. Sieg looked at his younger sister sadly, then wormed his way under his father’s arm so that he could join her in Morgaine’s lap.

“You’ll get better Phee,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against her fevered cheek and hugging around her and their mother both. “I’ll help you feel better. You’re the best little sister ever, so you gotta get better. Okay?”

Belial’s heart twisted at his son’s distress. He pulled his family together, praying to the Woo that tragedy would not strike them a second time. For Sieg’s sake as much as his and Morgaine’s- he didn’t think the young boy would adjust as well to the loss of Ophelia as he had to the loss of his twin.

Ophelia’s eyes opened, but they were dull and glazed over, and it was clear she wasn’t really seeing anything that was going on around her. But she leaned into Sieg’s chest coughing shallowly, and he kissed the top of her head.

“I love you Ophee. So don’t be sad. I promise you’ll get better.”

[Shinko]

Started this a long while back, and finally I finished it- a small snippet from Morgaine's childhood. Enjoy!

Too Clever By Half

SPOILER: Click to show

“And I’ll thank you to keep that menace away from my henhouse!” the farmer snarled, leaning in so close to Bryce Folet that the fisherman could feel the farmer’s hot breath in his face. “I don’t appreciate reaching for an egg and having my hand come out covered in pond scum!”

“Yes, of course, I’m so sorry,” Bryce replied tiredly, running a nervous hand over his mouse-brown hair. His eyes, a murky, dark shade of blue, were averted, and his entire demeanor screamed of a man who just wanted to escape from this conversation as quickly as possible. But he couldn’t do that, on account of the farmer was standing in the only doorway that led out of the house.

“You always say that, Folet,” the farmer retorted. “And yet this nonsense keeps happening.”

The fisherman’s frown deepened, but he said nothing. Finally the farmer seemed to grow bored of the silence, and with a poisonous glare over Bryce’s shoulder he left. Bryce sighed, shutting the door behind him and turning to face the source of this and every other argument he'd had with his neighbors recently. The six year old girl looked back at him, an innocent expression on her face even as her brown eyes sparkled with a mischief that gave her away immediately.

"I dunno what he was talking about, Daddy," said the little girl called Morgaine, her voice earnest. The fisherman just rolled his eyes, sitting down on a wooden chair in the corner of the room with a groan.

"What am I gonna do with you, Kitten?" he asked tiredly, though there was weary affection in his eyes as he said it. "You are too clever by half."

"I love you too, Daddy," the girl replied with a wide grin. “And I don’t think pond scum is so bad to have on your hands. It’s mushy and wet, and fun to squeeze.”

“Don’t push it,” Bryce advised. “I think I’m bringing you with me to work today, if the spirit of mischief has taken root in you. One lecture from my neighbors is enough to be getting on with.”

“Awww, but fishing is boring,” Morgaine cried, her lower lip quivering in a pout. “You just sit with the pole and wait. For hours. Or sit with the net in the water. For hourrrrrrrrs.”

“Should have thought of that before you got into trouble,” her father retorted. “But I’m not taking you with me on the boat. I know you, you’ll just get into even more mischief from boredom. You’ll be digging for bait worms on the shore- where I can see you!”

The girl brightened at this, and her father added, “And I will be checking your sleeves to make sure you’ve not stashed any away for more of your pranks, little miss.”

Morgaine sagged a little, pouting again. “Okaaaaay.”

* * * * *

The little girl was dutifully digging at the muddy shore of the river in search of the worms her father could bait his fishing line with. She had several already in a small earthenware jar, waiting until her father came back to shore to claim them. She’d just come up with another, and was pondering if she might be able to hide it from Bryce by stuffing it in the shoes she’d left higher up on the bank, when a voice called out her name.

“Hey, Morgaine!”

She looked up, and saw that the newcomer was one of the young boys from the village- he was about eight, two years older than Morgaine, and greatly enjoyed flaunting it.

“What’re you digging around in the mud for?” he asked “Aren’t girls supposed to be at home knitting or something?”

“Knitting is boring, Damian,” Morgaine retorted. “Besides, daddy doesn’t know how to knit, so who’s gonna teach me?”

“There’s lots of girls in the village who could teach you,” he pointed out. “And getting dirty is for boys. You’re supposed to be all ladylike and stuff. Then maybe people wouldn’t think your dad is a weakling who can’t keep you out of trouble.”

Only the fact that she would have crushed the worm kept Morgaine from clenching her hand into a fist. As it was her eyes narrowed, and she bristled indignantly. “If you’re gonna bully me, bully me. Leave Daddy out of this.”

“Why?” Damian asked. “Everyone’s talking about it this morning, and it’s not the first time. You think it’s funny, that stuff you do, but you’re just a pest. I bet even he thinks so. He’s just too much of a chicken to say it.”

Fury crackled in Morgaine’s chest like a lit flame, and she very carefully deposited her worm in the jar. “At least the farmer this morning insulted Daddy to his face. You say he’s a chicken, but you’re too scared to say it to him. I think you’re the one who’s scared.”

“I’m not scared of anything,” Damian scoffed, and Morgaine smirked.

“Then why don’t we play a game?” she asked. “If you win, I’ll admit that Daddy is a chicken. If I win, you leave me and him alone.”

“I’m not playing with you, you cheat!” the boy objected. Morgaine only smiled more widely.

“Then I’ll tell everyone in the village how much of a chicken you are,” she said simply. “That you came over here and started insulting Daddy, but you were too scared to play a game with a girl.”

Damian tensed, his jaw tightening. Finally he snapped, “Fine, but if you cheat you’ll be sorry.”

“I won’t cheat,” Morgaine said loftily. “The game is simple. I’m digging for worms, and you think that’s not something a girl should do. So you have to try and get more worms than me. If you can get the most worms in five minutes, you win.”

The boy considered this, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, but after a minute he nodded. “Alright. I’ll show you how a man does it.”

Morgaine pointed to a nearby tree, very close to the edge of the water. “You dig there, and I’ll keep digging here. You can’t say I’m cheating and picking a better spot because I’ve already been digging here a while so it’s all picked clean.”

Damian thought on this, then he mutely walked over to the tree, kneeling in the mud. All in one breath, he bellowed, “ReadysetGO!” and plunged his fingers into the muck. Morgaine did likewise, pulling apart earth and stones from the ground between her knees. However, she didn’t have time to find even a single worm before Damian gave a wild cry of shock.

“A skull!” he cried, flinging himself away from the shallow pit he’d dug. “There’s a skull in the dirt!”

Grinning broadly, Morgaine stood up and walked over to his hole, swiping the mud away from her skirts. As she peered into the ground Damian had churned up, she saw not one, but several skulls- tiny ones, no bigger than a grown man’s thumb. Skulls from mice, shrews, voles, rats, and other tiny animals that were all too common in the swamp. Reaching down, she picked one of them up and grinned. “What, this? The way you were yelling you’d have thought skull demons from the ‘Pit were glaring up at you. It’s nothing, look.”

She held up the tiny bone for Damian’s inspection, but he was having none of it.

“That’s disgusting!” the boy screeched, stumbling backwards from Morgaine. “Keep it away from me!”

“Oh c’mon, it’s just mouse bones,” Morgaine retorted, playing with the skull nonchalantly. “An owl nests in that tree. He coughs them up sometimes. You’re a boy aren’t you, you should like this kind of stuff. Don’t you wanna hold it?” she offered eagerly, holding it out to him.

“Oh my Woo, that is gro-ho-ho-hoooss!” the boy said, backing up further. “You had me digging around in owl puke? What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she said. “You came over here and started calling my daddy names and saying things about him that aren’t true. You’re a dummy and a bully who can’t even take the sight of a few owl pellets. Go away Damian, and stop bothering me.”

“You think you’re funny, Morgaine, but you’re not,” Damian snarled. “You just wait. I’ll get even!”

With that the boy stormed off, leaving Morgaine on the bank smirking at his retreating back.

“Kitten?”

She turned, seeing her father rowing up to her in his boat. There was a frown on his face. “What was that young boy doing here, and why was he yelling? What did you do this time?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” Morgaine said cheerily. “Just showing him the owl that moved into the tree! Did you need more worms?”

* * * * *

Two mornings later, Bryce was trying to get a fire going in the hearth to make breakfast for himself and Morgaine when a tremendous pounding sounded from the door. The noise was as loud as thunder, and Bryce jumped with surprise. A voice from beyond bellowed, “Open up this door! Open up right now Folet!”

The fisherman shot an exasperated look at Morgaine, wondering what she could have possibly done this time. The girl looked up at him with an expression of confusion, but that wasn’t really indicative of much. Swallowing a sigh, Bryce stood and walked over to the door, pulling it open.

“What is it?” he asked tiredly. To his surprise, the man outside grabbed his shirt collar, yanking him out with a snarl.

“That little demon of yours has gone too far this time, Folet!” he bellowed. “And Woo help me, you will pay me for the damages!”

“D-damages?” Bryce bleated, thunderstruck. His daughter liked playing tricks, but she never did anything destructive or hurtful. Her pranks were annoying, but never mean-spirited. The fisherman glanced back at the girl, who’d come to stand in the doorway behind him. Her face was a study of blank astonishment, and not a little fear at the rage of the other villager.

“She destroyed my fishing net!” the man snapped, letting go of Bryce and throwing down a bundle of wires and ropes that he’d been holding over his shoulder. The net unrolled a bit as it hit the ground, revealing that long gashes had been sliced across it, leaving huge holes in the mesh that would be easy for a fish to swim through. Morgaine gasped indignantly, her small fists clenching.

“That wasn’t me!” she said. “I wouldn’t do that! It’s not funny, it’s just mean!”

Bryce’s jaw tightened, and he put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I fully admit that Morgaine is a little troublemaker, but she’s right about this- I’ve never known her to do anything deliberately that would actually hurt anyone. Someone else has vandalized your net.”

“Oh really?” The man sneered. “Was it you then, Folet? Because I found this under the seat in the boat!”

He held up a small fishhook, one with a little string of bright feathers tied to it. Both of the Folets tensed. It was Bryce’s fishhook, the feathers having been attached at Morgaine’s suggestion to make it easier to see in the murky swamps. The hook was bent and the feathers frazzled- as if someone had been clutching it in their hand and using the point to rip a fishing net all night.

Bryce swallowed hard, his hand tightening on Morgaine’s shoulder. For her part, the little girl’s face had gone completely blank.

“Morgaine,” her father said softly. “What do you have to say about this?”

She looked up at him, an odd light in her eyes. Before the fisherman had time to try and figure out what it was, however, she shrugged. The usual mischievous smile was back on her face as she turned towards the man with the net.

“You won’t believe me if I say I didn’t do it,” she said, “so I won’t. How about instead I help you fix the net?”

The man with the ripped net blinked, his mouth falling open at this. “What? Just like that?”

“If I did do it, it’s punishment,” Morgaine replied simply. “If I didn’t, it’s because whoever did this was mean, and I don’t like people being mean. We all need the fish to sell so we can eat, and so you need your net fixed. I’ll help.”

“Yes,” Bryce said, his voice unusually flat and his eyes hard. “I think you will, Morgaine.”

The little girl glanced up at her father, that odd expression flitting across her face again. But she nodded in the next instant, all smiles again. “I’ll do good, Daddy.”

The other villager frowned, but then he shrugged. “Seems fair. But you had better keep a tighter rein on your brat from now on, Folet. This is getting out of hand.”

“Of course,” Bryce replied.

* * * * *

Having been dragged out of breakfast, and working through lunch, by the time Morgaine finished with net and returned home at sundown she was ravenous. Happy to have finished her self appointed task, she knocked on the door to her home with a wide smile on her face. “I’m back, Daddy!”

Bryce pulled the door open, looking down at her with a deliberately neutral expression. Morgaine’s smile faltered, and she bit her lip. “D-Daddy?”

“Come in, Morgaine,” he said softly. “I think we need to talk.”

Any hunger she might have felt was instantly swamped by a wave of nausea. She followed her father into the house, keeping her eyes down on the dirt of the floor. Hesitantly, she said, “You think I really did it, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond at first, sitting down on the small cot in one corner that served them both as a bed. “I don’t know what to think,” he replied bluntly. “I’d like to believe that you wouldn’t do such a thing, Kitten, but when you misbehave so much it’s hard for me to really know for sure.”

“I wouldn’t do something like that,” she insisted. “It’s mean. I don’t want to be mean.”

“Not mean?” Bryce asked incredulously. “What do you call putting pond scum in someone’s hen house, or balancing a bucket of water at the top of the door so it falls on them?”

“Annoying,” she replied instantly. “But funny annoying. It doesn’t hurt ‘em and it’s not out of meanness. They’re okay again once the stop being mad.”

“And you enjoy annoying people?” the fisherman asked. “You enjoy people disliking you?”

“I don’t care,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting. “They’re mean. I won’t be mean like them, but I don’t care if they like me.”

“They’re mean because you play pranks on them,” Bryce pointed out. “You can’t fault people for being mean when you make them mad on purpose. Maybe if you behaved they wouldn’t be mean.”

The little girl’s lower lip stuck out. “Nuh-uh. They’re mean because they’re poop-heads. They…” She bristled. “They say that I’m a motherless girl child that don’t know her place. That I should be proper and ladylike, and that you’re ruining me by not letting the ladies of the village watch me and teach me how to be.”

Bryce stiffened at that, his mouth falling open and his blue eyes full of hurt. Morgaine clenched her hands into fists, looking furiously down at the ground. “I don’t care what they say about me. I don’t care because I know it’s stupid. But I don’t want them saying you’re ruining me, because you’re not!”

She flung herself at Bryce’s legs, hugging him as tightly as her six-year-old strength would allow. “I didn’t rip the net, Daddy, but I fixed it because I knew the villagers would say mean things about you if I didn’t. They hate me and they don’t believe me. I don’t care what they think, but you care so I’ll be good. For you. “ She clenched her fingers in his pant legs, quivering slightly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t hate me, Daddy. You aren’t ruining me, I promise. I think you’re the best Dad, I don’t need the village ladies to tell me how to be. E-even if Damian gets mad at me again, and rips up another net so I have to spend all day fixing it, I don’t care. I won’t let ‘em say bad things about you.”

“Oh, Kitten,” Bryce whispered hoarsely, kneeling down and pulling his daughter into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to do these things for my sake, love.”

“I know I don’t,” she said softly. “But I wanna. It’s fun, and it lets me win. If I win, you win, because you’re raising me good.”

“I can’t take even a little bit of responsibility for the things you get up to, Morgaine,” Bryce said, pulling back and thumbing a tear away from her face. “I can’t come up with half the things in my thirties that you do at six. You’re going to grow up to be so much smarter than I am, my girl.”

“I don’t need to be smarter than you, Daddy. As long as I’m smarter than Damian.” the child said firmly, and Bryce shook his head.

“I daresay you are dear- and if today was anything to go by, for all your mischief you’re more mature than he is too.” Bryce tweaked her nose. “But I’m serious, you need to be on your best behavior for a while. This isn’t going to blow over easily.”

Morgaine looked down, considering it. “...A week?”

Bryce gave an exasperated sigh, but there was amusement glinting in his eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

[Shinko]

Who wants some worldbuilding guys? Let's do some worldbuilding! This story takes place in Bern in 1303, and tells the story of how an alliance was formed between two of the Bernian minor houses- House Dun and House Bay. Enjoy!


A Rocky Start - Part 1

SPOILER: Click to show

Dawn came over the coastal town of Jennet in northeast Bern, and with it, a scene of chaos.

Aaron Dun, the eldest son of Lord Cohen and heir to House Dun, rode through the streets astride his palomino pony- horses were rare this deep in the mountains because they were less sure-footed on the rocky slopes than ponies. The animal could smell blood, and he tried to shy, but like all the Dun lords before him Aaron was an excellent hunter and horseman, and he reigned the stallion in immediately.

The people of Jennet were out in the streets, cleaning up broken glass from smashed windows, trying to right overturned merchant carts, and mutely scrubbing blood from the cobbles where the bodies of the dead had fallen the previous day. Many of them had eyes red and puffy from weeping, and bruises or cuts where they’d been hurt.

“1300, wasn’t it, Lord?” asked a guardsman riding beside Aaron quietly. “Just three years gone that Brachyura fellow was up here with his crew, ‘n there was all that jawin’ about cleanin’ the sea o’ pirates. ‘N already the bottom feeders are oozing up out o’ the cracks again.”

Aaron made an indistinct noise of assent. He too remembered that last big push to secure the Bernian coastline, after the conclusion of the Second Langian War. Though he was not surprised this group had been so audacious so soon- it wasn’t just a single ship of desperate opportunists, it had been a fleet of three operating in tandem. Even the armed merchantman that had been moored off the coast at the time of the attack had stood no chance- one of the ships had attacked the ship and sunk it while the other two swarmed over the city.

“Lord Dun?” came a soft, tremulous voice. Aaron looked up to see an elderly peasant approaching them. The guards pulled closer around the nobleman, but he waved a hand to signal for them to relax.

“What can I do for ye, Madam?” he asked formally. Though Aaron was hardly what one would expect from the heir to a noble estate- slender, bookish, with sleek, short cut auburn hair and an awkward pair of large spectacles strapped to his face to compensate for chronic shortsightedness- at that moment he was projecting a calm air of quiet authority that left no one in any doubt of his identity.

“Lord, is it true what they’ve been sayin’?” She asked. “Is it true that… that Lord Cohen’s dead?”

The facade cracked only for a split second. The merest trace of a wince passed over Aaron’s features, gone again in the space of an eyeblink. When he answered, it was with a slow, measured tone, carrying not a jot of emotion behind it. “Yes. My father lost his life yesterday, defending Jennet from the enemies who have so ravaged it. I am Lord of Dun now.”

His pale green eyes flashed briefly, again allowing a hint of the emotions roiling just below the surface to shine through. Not grief this time, but bitter anger.

“I am Lord of Dun- and I will see tae it that the sacrifices of my father ‘n those who fought alongside him are nae in vain. I swear upon my honor, there will be justice for the blood that stains the streets.”

* * * * *

When at last Aaron arrived back at Dun Manor, his fifteen year old brother Theodore was waiting for him at the gate.

“Well?” the teenage boy asked. “What did ye find out?”

Aaron’s mouth tightened grimly. “Aside from the merchantman they sunk, they also made off with two trade vessels- drowned what crews were left on them while at harbor ‘n helped themselves tae the vessels ‘n cargo. I have names for the attacking ships- asked around at the docks ‘n eventually dug up all three. Two caravels, one called The Reliant ‘n another called The Zephyr, ‘n what looked like a stolen, repurposed trade cog called The Pipistrel. At least I can hand these over tae any privateers we call upon to deal with the matter, ‘n give them tae the merchants ‘n trade towns along the coast as ships to be on guard for.”

Theodore frowned, folding his arms. His hair and eyes were auburn and green, much like Aaron’s, but both were in much darker shades. While Aaron’s hair was sleek and gave only the faintest hint of a natural curl, Theo’s was bushy and flounced around from his head like lambswool. At fifteen he was already almost as tall as Aaron, and still growing. He was definitely the more muscular and physically imposing of the brothers. Yet for all that, there were obvious dark bags under his eyes, and a general disheveled state that betrayed the fact that he was as distraught about their father’s death as Aaron.

The older Dun dismounted, turning his pony over to the groomsman waiting inside the gate and waving a hand to dismiss the guards who’d accompanied him. As he walked towards the manor, Theodore fell into step behind him.

“Can we afford privateers, Aaron?” Theo asked. “Cleaning up the town on its own is going tae be a nightmare. ‘N the merchants want compensation for their ships and cargo.”

“Can we afford not tae do something?” the young lord shot back tartly. “No traders will feel safe coming tae Jennet for our furs if we become a pirate cash cow. ‘N… wait, have the merchants already been up here?”

“Yeah, while ye were gone,” his brother confirmed. “Demanding to get paid back for their lost ships ‘n cargo.”

Aaron rubbed his forehead, “Ye have got tae be bloody kidding me. Our father died yesterday, half their crews died yesterday, ‘n they’re gibbering about money?” He gave an explosive sigh. “Well that at least is nae my problem. If they want to be compensated, they can take it up with the admiralty in Websteros. That is certainly nae my jurisdiction.”

He sighed, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose as they walked through the doors into the manor proper. “But yer right. This isn’t going tae come cheaply. We need help if we’re going tae make this work.”

“Help?” the younger Dun repeated. “Help from who?”

“The pirates are a threat tae all the coastal lords, Theo. Except maybe Brindle ‘n Sabino, since their coasts are so far north there isn’t much up there. I need to write tae House Stallion anyway, to let the Grand Duke know about… about father dying ‘n ask for a stay on my required trip tae Destrier tae pledge fealty.” He pushed aside the rush of anguish that was threatening to overwhelm him again. “So I’ll write letters tae House Bay ‘n House Tobiano. They need tae be told what’s going on, so they can arm themselves against the threat from the pirate fleet.”

Theo nodded grimly, seeing the logic in this. “I wish I could help, but Father only ever had ye and Seamus taught tae read and write.”

“Thanks Theo, but I can just get the scribe, it’s what we pay her for,” the lord replied. In softer voice he said. “Speaking of our little mathematician… how is he?”

“Nae good,” Theo replied, his voice equally low. “I think he’s kind of in denial about it still. Nory’s with him. He was cryin’ when last I checked on them. So was she.”

Aaron looked away, feeling the sting of tears threatening to well up in his own eyes at the mention of his younger brother and sister’s grief. Eleanor was between Aaron and Theo in age, at seventeen. But Seamus was just eleven- far too young to really comprehend what had happened or deal with it.

“Ye should go be with them for a while, Theo,” he said softly. “I know ye probably need some time as well.”

“‘N what about ye, Aaron?” Theo demanded. “Ye gonna just keep shoving it tae the side until it boils over? That won’t help anybody.”

“Nae, I know that,” his brother replied absently. “I’ll join ye all later on. But this needs tae be done, ‘n it needs tae be done as soon as possible. I’m the lord of House Dun now- my responsibilities have tae come first.”

The younger Dun said nothing at this. He just stopped walking, reached mutely for Aaron, and pulled his older brother into a hug. Aaron tensed for a split second, but didn’t pull away. After a moment, he hugged Theodore back, giving in to his grief enough to tremble a bit and give a few, ragged breaths before they pulled apart again.

“Ye’ll do great, Aaron,” Theo said. “I know ye will.”

He smiled sadly. “Have the scribe sent up tae Fath- tae my office.”

“One scribe comin’ up,” Theo replied briskly. “But if we do nae see ye again before sundown, I’m coming after ye, ye hear?”

Aaron waved a hand in dismissive acknowledgement, already turning towards the business wing of the manor. Theo turned and headed in the opposite direction, towards the private wing reserved for the family. He sad down once he’d arrived, penning up his letter to House Stallion quickly and dipping his quill in the ink to start a letter to House Tobiano when the scribe finally arrived.

“Ah good, yer here,” he, rising to greet the woman. “I’ve a correspondence here for House Stallion, just tae keep them abreast of what’s been going on. But the coastal regions need tae be alerted urgently. I want a letter sent tae House Sabino just as a precaution, though I can’t imagine they’ll do much with it given how far north they are- Brindle I’ll not bother with, since their coastline is so narrow I know they won’t care. But-”

“But Bay ‘n Tobiano are in very real danger,” the scribe interrupted shrewdly. Aaron nodded.

“Precisely. They need tae be alerted tae what’s happened as soon as possible. Furthermore, I’d like tae ask Bay ‘n Tobiano for their help in this matter- one vessel could be dismissed as a rogue privateer, but three working together? This is a very audacious place tae attack, ‘n that is a sizable fleet for outlaws. Which means they are either very stupid… or they have very good reason for this dangerous overconfidence.”

“I understand, my lord,” she replied. “Shall ye dictate the letter for Tobiano aloud, ‘n I’ll write a matching letter for Bay? Then I will write similar tae Sabino, without the petitions for aid.”

“Excellent,” he said, sitting back down as the scribe took up a seat across from him. “Start yours with ‘Tae the Esteemed Lord Ian Bay of House Bay,’” As he spoke, he himself was inking the same, save his was addressed to “the Esteemed Lord Campbell Tobiano of House Tobiano” instead. Speaking on, he dictated;

Greetings from Lord Aaron Dun,

It is with deep regret that I must pass along to you very ill tidings. Yesterday, on the seventh day of April in year 1303, Jennet was attacked and ransacked by a fleet pirates. The three ships, two caravels and a refitted merchant cog, going under the names The Reliant, The Zephyr, and The Pipistrel, are still at large along the Bernian coastline. During the attack they sank an armed merchantman, stole several more vessels, raided the city, and succeeded in killing my predecessor, Lord Cohen Dun.

These rogues are to be considered extremely dangerous, and I advise you to take all possible precautions against further incursions from them. In the interest of mutual defense, I should like to discuss this matter with you further at your earliest convenience. The audacity of the attack, targeting the seat of a noble house where a garrison of knights is known to be stationed, is concerning enough without even accounting for the size and organization of the assault. If you are amendable, House Dun will be quite happy to lend all the resources it has at its disposal to this cause, and with the help of your esteemed House see to it that the rogues are rooted out.

Kindest regards, et cetera,
Lord Aaron Dun

The scribe finished up just a few seconds later, and passed the finished letter to Aaron to sign. “I’ll write the letter for Sabino, then once you’ve signed it I can take all the letters down tae the couriers. What pigeon cases shall they get?”

In Bern, all official correspondences by carrier pigeon were placed in a case color-coded by urgency. Green indicated a communication of no special provenance, usually for standard military reports or announcing births or weddings or the like. Yellow marked the document within as “priority” meaning that it was important enough news that it needed to be read ahead of other correspondences received, but that it wasn’t a matter of particular urgency. Red marked the document as very urgent, and usually when a courier received a red-cased message it was taken to the recipient at once, regardless of what activity he may have been previously engaged in. Black was reserved for dire emergencies, generally only used in cases such as a declaration of war or an active siege.

“Yellow for the messages tae Stallion ‘n Sabino,” Aaron replied. “But Tobiano ‘n Bay are vulnerable, ‘n need tae see theirs as quickly as possible. Mark them red.”