Chapter 5: 5
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Trying to slow down towards the last half of his meal didn't buy Orison any time. It just meant he wouldn't get to finish as Droya started right where she left off as if she had only paused for a breath rather than took twenty minutes to eat.
She said, "I can't protect you from an enemy I don't know you have. In case you didn't know, that's one of many jobs I accepted when I decided to be your mother. I don't know what you think of me, Orison, but I didn't do that with halfhearted feelings.
"I don't expect you to put all your trust in me right away. I know there will be times we don't see eye to eye and I'm far from perfect. I'll make mistakes. But when my life is done and I face the woman who gave you life in the great beyond, I don't want to do it ashamed. That means, as much as I want you to like me, as much as I want us to be as close or closer than a mother and son by birth, I will not compromise on the important things. I will not bribe you for your affection at the cost of your well-being. I sure as the abyss won't stand idly and watch you throw yourself into needless danger, not until life or circumstance force us to part.
"Confide in me and I'll be your safety net. Earn my trust, inspire my faith in you and I'll give you freedom. Lie to me, make a fool of me and I'll become your jailer until you're an adult. That would be a long five years for both of us...Now what should I do? It's difficult to find an appropriate punishment for a child who never plays!"
Droya's chuckle earned a nervous one from Orison before she said, "I just bought a new hand thresher. When we get home I'll divide the yard up into seven parts and you'll do one a day til they're done. Take your time and space it out because other than that you have nothing else to do for the rest of the day except stuff one side with food and empty the other until bed. No books and no training for a week.
And before I hear a complaint about it, I swear if something happens to your precious history books during that time, robbing you of a precious learning opportunity, I'll buy replacements for each and every one, even if I have to hock my mother's jewelry to do it.
"Even if you hadn't gotten in trouble I'd have made you take a break from the training yard until I figured out how much is good for you to be doing at your age... Orison, girls might admire a hero but, in my mind, that's the last thing a mother should want her son to be. Be happy, live well and live a long time."
Orison stewed on her words and said, "I'll admit to trying to downplay the situation and for that I'll take my licks but for what I did, for taking the risk to save that girl, I don't feel the least bit sorry and I'd do it again. I can't not be me."
She smiled sadly and said, "I'm more angry at myself than you for that, little cub. I wasn't there and I feel like I should have been. One whole day and one whole night was enough to almost lose you twice, to undo everything I had tried to do to let you know you were safe... It made me feel like I was the liar.
"But enough about that. This is about you. You attack each day like you expect the sky to fall. You fill every second squeezing every drop of worth from everything around you like you expect it to disappear... I'm not saying it can't happen and I know I'm not strong enough to hold up the whole sky but I feel like I can hold up the sky around our house for a week though. Cut some grass and watch the sun set. Sing a song and pull some weeds. Get sweaty and go take a bath in the horse trough, if that's what you want to do but but breathe, sweetling.
"Find a way to ease the tension inside you even when the world seems dark at midday. Play for The Maker's sake. It's not your turn to hold the sky up yet but even if it was, you'll fall to your enemies without them even having to lift a hand if all they have to do is tap your strings and watch you wear yourself to nothing."
They left the tavern thinking their own thoughts. Meeting Rithus, Lithis' father, and Morrel, the ex-slave steward of their house brought some new and surprising considerations. It seemed that Droya knew Morrel, a middle-aged wood elf with faded facial tattoos and filed teeth in dire need of being coated with resin again or they'd rot out of his head. Apparently, a few years back, Droya was being chased by some Summer Domain soldiers and Morrel had hid her under his coachman seat.
After learning that Rithus and Morrel had divvied up the majority of the loose wealth the crazy elf's son didn't know about to fund Lithis and her lover's trip back home and was looking for work, Droya wanted to take them in but was too afraid of reprisal from the crazy elf's son. A problem that Orison had a ready solution to. Instead of trying to hide the truth of Orison's deed outright, he suggested they leave it an open secret by taking the two in and letting it be known by courier to the elf's son that they had the journal with his father's ugly deeds in it and remind the son that Orison's father had inheritable Empire titles. With a small reminder that even the dumbest of investigators could uncover the trail of Orison's rescue of a slave damsel from an unknown cultist, with or without proof, the Empire could use an unfortunate event happening to the family of the Dragonblood to raise the Abyss itself. The Summerland Domain would fall all over itself to look for a scapegoat only to find one all too easy. Since the Domain didn't like heretics anyway it was a win-win for everyone but the crazy elf's house.
To put it simply, from a practical standpoint, Orison convinced Droya that taking in the two ex-slaves was more insurance not danger. If she wasn't able to breathe and relax after not doing what her conscious was wanting her to do then how could she expect him to?
"You need a maid. Our house is huge, the distance to the village is long. You're a war leader's wife and a baroness of the Empire. Since you just got us a competent, if a little scary, steward and a general staff all you need is a maid. I mean, they came with their own cart and horses, maybe a maid would come with free sewing equipment or something... The new mini wood bath house that Rithus made is nice and all but the trough heated itself if you left it in the sun for an hour or so. We could maybe put a wood stove in it? Oh, and one for the water closet after a vent's been put in. Don't just shoot it down. The water tank and flushing bowl, the small basin for hand and face washing were both good right?" Orison opined to Droya on day six of his 'relax' punishment.
When Orison finished much earlier than he intended, he started thinking about ways to make their lives better. Since writing materials were banned when he was caught doodling possible cipher cracks instead of poetry, he would shotgun blast them at Droya to see what would stick.
In annoyance she growled, "When I told you to play I didn't mean use my last nerve as a jumping rope."
He said, "One last thing and I'll go play in the mud or something."
Wide eyed, she said, "Don't you dare!"
Grinning cheekily Orison drawled, "Because there is no maid to help with the washing? Okay! Okay! Stop chasing me and I'll get to the point and away from your ear... How long are you going to wait?"
Droya narrowed her eyes. "Wait for what?"
Orison sighed. "I don't want this to turn into a fight but mom, we are living in a paused story. I understand many of the reasons why you want to wait til dad gets back but three weeks without even a courier note? Not that I'm advocating for greed's sake but dad is rich and if, just if, something has happened, no one will just volunteer it to us. The more time passes, the greater the chance of others finding ways to siphon it elsewhere.
"At the very least, write an inquiry of estate to Whitewater. That's an official request that at least lets them know you're not content to waste away over here, oblivious. It also holds the treasurer accountable, as in, he has to send you an official record of account with a list of assets. That's something which can be used to investigate fraud. Don't forget the signet seal so the document's arrival will be recorded at every stop. Don't want anyone pulling a lost in transport excuse."
Droya exclaimed, "How do you know all this?"
Orison thought for a moment and replied, "Record of Northland Law and Amendments. The volume in our libr-. I read it BEFORE you punished me."
Droya conceded. "I'll look it over. If you've remembered it right, I'd be a fool not to. It just feels bad planning for the worst, it's like I've lost faith."
Orison replied, "Faith after confirmation. Conviction after evidence."
***
"Morrel, please wait! Don't push any further! It's starting to really hu-hurt!," Orison panted.
Morrel chuckled as he added just a little more pressure, "It's your first time so you're going to be really tight. Just take as deep a breath as you can and let it out slowly. Yes, just like that."
Orison's shuddering breath turned into a half sob as he felt himself widen just a bit more, trying desperately to relax his muscles to accommodate the wood elf leaning into him.
Morrel started breathing a little heavier, feeling the strain of maintaining absolute control of his body and Orison's as he said, "The longer this takes, the more pain you feel. Once you take it all the way down it will not hurt nearly as much. After a couple of times, not only will it stop hurting, it will start feeling good. Eventually your day wont even feel complete until you've done it at least once."
Letter in hand, Droya walked in on them. Eyes wide and hand flying to her mouth, she said, "Oh my! And in broad daylight!?"
With legs nearly 160 degrees apart and Morrel nearly doing a push-up on his back, Orison rolled his watery eyes and said in a raspy squeak, "Don't be gross, mom."
Righting himself, Morrel complained, "His body is still mildly out of balance and unnaturally resistant to change. That it has only taken two fortnights to right the hidden wrongs within him is short of a miracle."
Droya said ruefully, "Pity it wasn't short of my purse strings. No, don't think I doubt you. Just one look and I can tell those Emerald Vale herbs did him a world of good. I'm just venting stale air. Hehe, all that basting, baking and boiling-"
Orison interjected, "Don't forget freezing. I doubt that lake is fit for swimming even in high summer."
Looking mildly irritated at the interruption, she continued, "Right... For a moment I thought you were torturing him for information or preparing him for a special dinner."
Faking offense, Morrel responded, "Any other child not of the Green Sea could only pray in vain to receive such kindness from me. Besides, only a heart matron and her honored guests could enjoy such a carefully prepared main course. Even then, only on Longest Day. My tribe's matron was fond of Domain soldiers as fresh from the battlefield as possible... Our boy here was born on Longest Night, if memory serves. No one would eat him on such a special occasion for fear it would bring winter to the Vale. Ha!"
Droya and Orison both hid a cringe as she changed topic. "At any rate, I figure you earned a little retribution after my little cub spent hours drumming those tattoos back on your face."
Nodding his thanks to Orison and glancing at the letter in Droya's hand, Morrel finished, "Nonsense. I'm endlessly grateful. And with the healing, I only had partial paralysis for two days. The lines were preserved passably well and that's what matters...But, by your leave, I should be off to other things so the two of you can address yours."
Waving the official looking envelope in her hand, Droya said, "Another letter has arrived. Since it's getting late, I've invited the courier to stay, as you've so kindly pointed out I'm obligated to. Read it together?"
Orison said dryly, "Oh goody. After the last one required us to send signed copies of our marriage and adoption registrations to buy them time to plot, suuurely this must be GOOD news... At least it's not another letter from that psycho son of a cultist.
"Honestly, acting as if he was glad his father was dead and four slaves lighter. Eagerly anticipating the day of my majority, assured we will become the fastest of friends after you refused his request to pay visit? That was after, what was it? Oh, paying a sketch artist to 'capture' my likeness and sending me a magicked copy praising my present and future comeliness. As if he could convince me he'd have the, um, jewels to send an assassin. Make no mistake, momma Yaya. I won't let my guard down but I'm more worried about that artist than I am him, all set up in the village square like he owned the place. I didn't even see him look at me once!"
Giving Orison a mysterious and knowing look, Droya said, "There's plenty to be worried about but I really don't think... That's not important. Are you going to read this or am I?"
Orison sighed and said, "You might as well. It'll keep my hands free to make rude gestures at the air while you're too distracted to notice."
With a little reluctance and slightly trembling hands, making Orison silently curse himself for being insensitive, Droya read, "It is with heavy h-hearts we bear news from the, from the Keeper at the Hall of the Valiant..."
As Orison reached for Droya to guide her to a chair, he asked, "We don't need to finish it now. Mom, maybe-"
She gently but firmly grabbed the hand reaching for her shoulder and shoved the letter into it. Wiping her eyes once she said, "I've had time to prepare. This is important. Just read it for now and I'll be back in a moment."
Against the tide of rising guilt, Orison reminded himself that none of this was his fault. Figuring that the inevitable anger he'd have after getting to the relevant parts of the letter, would at least keep him distracted and thinking safer thoughts, he kept reading. By the time he had read through it for the third time to make sure he didn't miss any important details, Droya returned.
Upon seeing her red eyed but stoic figure, Orison felt like throwing caution to the wind and explaining everything to her as best he could in what he hoped was a way she could understand. He tried but couldn't utter a word. He realized, at that moment, he too had been affected by the process to 'become authentic'. The cold chills he occasionally experienced when skirting modern concepts wasn't a coincidence or some symptom of PTSD. It was a warning or more like a shock from bumping against a law of existence or so he figured.
After wordlessly staring at each other for an uncomfortable period of time, Droya assured she was 'ready as she would ever be', unaware of Orison's own horrific revelation. Packing away those thoughts and feelings for the time being, Orison shook himself loose in a comical display that earned a weak chuckle from Droya.
Orison read the letter aloud then began to explain, "This is a work in progress inside my head so I need to get it all out first, then we discuss?"
Droya took a deep breath and slowly exhaled then said, "I've grown accustomed to your thinking process by now, little cub. I'm more inclined to listen than talk at the moment anyway. From the sound of it, we have some time to... work out the details."
Orison began, "I won't harp on the first part. The way they worded it made it seem like he might wander out of the land of souls someday but the rest of the letter shows where they actually stand on the issue. We grieve and move on. If for some reason he does return it will be a happy, if awkward day and he'll just have to understand."
Droya cut in to say, "My thoughts and heart are my problem to solve, sweetling. I'll get where I need to be in due time."
Orison gave her an unsurprised look of tolerant exasperation and continued, "As for father's first adopted orphan, this Venito Arentus boy, he's a mushroom. That means he was kept in the dark and fed bulls-, er, dung. The war leader house that took him in and sat on him until we stepped forward has obvious ulterior motives."
For the first time since their talk in the tavern, Orison lied to Droya because he had no choice. Even if he could, it would be awkward saying he knew the child's backstory from a game. " I know Venito from the orphanage, though I doubt he'll remember me. If I recall correctly, he confused father for a person from a certain group of people which I cannot name or openly speak of, ever. Please believe me when I say I would if I could... Give me a moment to get this organized in my head. I don't want to get any of it wrong."
Droya nodded and said, "Take all the time that you need. I'm not going anywhere."
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Trying to slow down towards the last half of his meal didn't buy Orison any time. It just meant he wouldn't get to finish as Droya started right where she left off as if she had only paused for a breath rather than took twenty minutes to eat.
She said, "I can't protect you from an enemy I don't know you have. In case you didn't know, that's one of many jobs I accepted when I decided to be your mother. I don't know what you think of me, Orison, but I didn't do that with halfhearted feelings.
"I don't expect you to put all your trust in me right away. I know there will be times we don't see eye to eye and I'm far from perfect. I'll make mistakes. But when my life is done and I face the woman who gave you life in the great beyond, I don't want to do it ashamed. That means, as much as I want you to like me, as much as I want us to be as close or closer than a mother and son by birth, I will not compromise on the important things. I will not bribe you for your affection at the cost of your well-being. I sure as the abyss won't stand idly and watch you throw yourself into needless danger, not until life or circumstance force us to part.
"Confide in me and I'll be your safety net. Earn my trust, inspire my faith in you and I'll give you freedom. Lie to me, make a fool of me and I'll become your jailer until you're an adult. That would be a long five years for both of us...Now what should I do? It's difficult to find an appropriate punishment for a child who never plays!"
Droya's chuckle earned a nervous one from Orison before she said, "I just bought a new hand thresher. When we get home I'll divide the yard up into seven parts and you'll do one a day til they're done. Take your time and space it out because other than that you have nothing else to do for the rest of the day except stuff one side with food and empty the other until bed. No books and no training for a week.
And before I hear a complaint about it, I swear if something happens to your precious history books during that time, robbing you of a precious learning opportunity, I'll buy replacements for each and every one, even if I have to hock my mother's jewelry to do it.
"Even if you hadn't gotten in trouble I'd have made you take a break from the training yard until I figured out how much is good for you to be doing at your age... Orison, girls might admire a hero but, in my mind, that's the last thing a mother should want her son to be. Be happy, live well and live a long time."
Orison stewed on her words and said, "I'll admit to trying to downplay the situation and for that I'll take my licks but for what I did, for taking the risk to save that girl, I don't feel the least bit sorry and I'd do it again. I can't not be me."
She smiled sadly and said, "I'm more angry at myself than you for that, little cub. I wasn't there and I feel like I should have been. One whole day and one whole night was enough to almost lose you twice, to undo everything I had tried to do to let you know you were safe... It made me feel like I was the liar.
"But enough about that. This is about you. You attack each day like you expect the sky to fall. You fill every second squeezing every drop of worth from everything around you like you expect it to disappear... I'm not saying it can't happen and I know I'm not strong enough to hold up the whole sky but I feel like I can hold up the sky around our house for a week though. Cut some grass and watch the sun set. Sing a song and pull some weeds. Get sweaty and go take a bath in the horse trough, if that's what you want to do but but breathe, sweetling.
"Find a way to ease the tension inside you even when the world seems dark at midday. Play for The Maker's sake. It's not your turn to hold the sky up yet but even if it was, you'll fall to your enemies without them even having to lift a hand if all they have to do is tap your strings and watch you wear yourself to nothing."
They left the tavern thinking their own thoughts. Meeting Rithus, Lithis' father, and Morrel, the ex-slave steward of their house brought some new and surprising considerations. It seemed that Droya knew Morrel, a middle-aged wood elf with faded facial tattoos and filed teeth in dire need of being coated with resin again or they'd rot out of his head. Apparently, a few years back, Droya was being chased by some Summer Domain soldiers and Morrel had hid her under his coachman seat.
After learning that Rithus and Morrel had divvied up the majority of the loose wealth the crazy elf's son didn't know about to fund Lithis and her lover's trip back home and was looking for work, Droya wanted to take them in but was too afraid of reprisal from the crazy elf's son. A problem that Orison had a ready solution to. Instead of trying to hide the truth of Orison's deed outright, he suggested they leave it an open secret by taking the two in and letting it be known by courier to the elf's son that they had the journal with his father's ugly deeds in it and remind the son that Orison's father had inheritable Empire titles. With a small reminder that even the dumbest of investigators could uncover the trail of Orison's rescue of a slave damsel from an unknown cultist, with or without proof, the Empire could use an unfortunate event happening to the family of the Dragonblood to raise the Abyss itself. The Summerland Domain would fall all over itself to look for a scapegoat only to find one all too easy. Since the Domain didn't like heretics anyway it was a win-win for everyone but the crazy elf's house.
To put it simply, from a practical standpoint, Orison convinced Droya that taking in the two ex-slaves was more insurance not danger. If she wasn't able to breathe and relax after not doing what her conscious was wanting her to do then how could she expect him to?
"You need a maid. Our house is huge, the distance to the village is long. You're a war leader's wife and a baroness of the Empire. Since you just got us a competent, if a little scary, steward and a general staff all you need is a maid. I mean, they came with their own cart and horses, maybe a maid would come with free sewing equipment or something... The new mini wood bath house that Rithus made is nice and all but the trough heated itself if you left it in the sun for an hour or so. We could maybe put a wood stove in it? Oh, and one for the water closet after a vent's been put in. Don't just shoot it down. The water tank and flushing bowl, the small basin for hand and face washing were both good right?" Orison opined to Droya on day six of his 'relax' punishment.
When Orison finished much earlier than he intended, he started thinking about ways to make their lives better. Since writing materials were banned when he was caught doodling possible cipher cracks instead of poetry, he would shotgun blast them at Droya to see what would stick.
In annoyance she growled, "When I told you to play I didn't mean use my last nerve as a jumping rope."
He said, "One last thing and I'll go play in the mud or something."
Wide eyed, she said, "Don't you dare!"
Grinning cheekily Orison drawled, "Because there is no maid to help with the washing? Okay! Okay! Stop chasing me and I'll get to the point and away from your ear... How long are you going to wait?"
Droya narrowed her eyes. "Wait for what?"
Orison sighed. "I don't want this to turn into a fight but mom, we are living in a paused story. I understand many of the reasons why you want to wait til dad gets back but three weeks without even a courier note? Not that I'm advocating for greed's sake but dad is rich and if, just if, something has happened, no one will just volunteer it to us. The more time passes, the greater the chance of others finding ways to siphon it elsewhere.
"At the very least, write an inquiry of estate to Whitewater. That's an official request that at least lets them know you're not content to waste away over here, oblivious. It also holds the treasurer accountable, as in, he has to send you an official record of account with a list of assets. That's something which can be used to investigate fraud. Don't forget the signet seal so the document's arrival will be recorded at every stop. Don't want anyone pulling a lost in transport excuse."
Droya exclaimed, "How do you know all this?"
Orison thought for a moment and replied, "Record of Northland Law and Amendments. The volume in our libr-. I read it BEFORE you punished me."
Droya conceded. "I'll look it over. If you've remembered it right, I'd be a fool not to. It just feels bad planning for the worst, it's like I've lost faith."
Orison replied, "Faith after confirmation. Conviction after evidence."
***
"Morrel, please wait! Don't push any further! It's starting to really hu-hurt!," Orison panted.
Morrel chuckled as he added just a little more pressure, "It's your first time so you're going to be really tight. Just take as deep a breath as you can and let it out slowly. Yes, just like that."
Orison's shuddering breath turned into a half sob as he felt himself widen just a bit more, trying desperately to relax his muscles to accommodate the wood elf leaning into him.
Morrel started breathing a little heavier, feeling the strain of maintaining absolute control of his body and Orison's as he said, "The longer this takes, the more pain you feel. Once you take it all the way down it will not hurt nearly as much. After a couple of times, not only will it stop hurting, it will start feeling good. Eventually your day wont even feel complete until you've done it at least once."
Letter in hand, Droya walked in on them. Eyes wide and hand flying to her mouth, she said, "Oh my! And in broad daylight!?"
With legs nearly 160 degrees apart and Morrel nearly doing a push-up on his back, Orison rolled his watery eyes and said in a raspy squeak, "Don't be gross, mom."
Righting himself, Morrel complained, "His body is still mildly out of balance and unnaturally resistant to change. That it has only taken two fortnights to right the hidden wrongs within him is short of a miracle."
Droya said ruefully, "Pity it wasn't short of my purse strings. No, don't think I doubt you. Just one look and I can tell those Emerald Vale herbs did him a world of good. I'm just venting stale air. Hehe, all that basting, baking and boiling-"
Orison interjected, "Don't forget freezing. I doubt that lake is fit for swimming even in high summer."
Looking mildly irritated at the interruption, she continued, "Right... For a moment I thought you were torturing him for information or preparing him for a special dinner."
Faking offense, Morrel responded, "Any other child not of the Green Sea could only pray in vain to receive such kindness from me. Besides, only a heart matron and her honored guests could enjoy such a carefully prepared main course. Even then, only on Longest Day. My tribe's matron was fond of Domain soldiers as fresh from the battlefield as possible... Our boy here was born on Longest Night, if memory serves. No one would eat him on such a special occasion for fear it would bring winter to the Vale. Ha!"
Droya and Orison both hid a cringe as she changed topic. "At any rate, I figure you earned a little retribution after my little cub spent hours drumming those tattoos back on your face."
Nodding his thanks to Orison and glancing at the letter in Droya's hand, Morrel finished, "Nonsense. I'm endlessly grateful. And with the healing, I only had partial paralysis for two days. The lines were preserved passably well and that's what matters...But, by your leave, I should be off to other things so the two of you can address yours."
Waving the official looking envelope in her hand, Droya said, "Another letter has arrived. Since it's getting late, I've invited the courier to stay, as you've so kindly pointed out I'm obligated to. Read it together?"
Orison said dryly, "Oh goody. After the last one required us to send signed copies of our marriage and adoption registrations to buy them time to plot, suuurely this must be GOOD news... At least it's not another letter from that psycho son of a cultist.
"Honestly, acting as if he was glad his father was dead and four slaves lighter. Eagerly anticipating the day of my majority, assured we will become the fastest of friends after you refused his request to pay visit? That was after, what was it? Oh, paying a sketch artist to 'capture' my likeness and sending me a magicked copy praising my present and future comeliness. As if he could convince me he'd have the, um, jewels to send an assassin. Make no mistake, momma Yaya. I won't let my guard down but I'm more worried about that artist than I am him, all set up in the village square like he owned the place. I didn't even see him look at me once!"
Giving Orison a mysterious and knowing look, Droya said, "There's plenty to be worried about but I really don't think... That's not important. Are you going to read this or am I?"
Orison sighed and said, "You might as well. It'll keep my hands free to make rude gestures at the air while you're too distracted to notice."
With a little reluctance and slightly trembling hands, making Orison silently curse himself for being insensitive, Droya read, "It is with heavy h-hearts we bear news from the, from the Keeper at the Hall of the Valiant..."
As Orison reached for Droya to guide her to a chair, he asked, "We don't need to finish it now. Mom, maybe-"
She gently but firmly grabbed the hand reaching for her shoulder and shoved the letter into it. Wiping her eyes once she said, "I've had time to prepare. This is important. Just read it for now and I'll be back in a moment."
Against the tide of rising guilt, Orison reminded himself that none of this was his fault. Figuring that the inevitable anger he'd have after getting to the relevant parts of the letter, would at least keep him distracted and thinking safer thoughts, he kept reading. By the time he had read through it for the third time to make sure he didn't miss any important details, Droya returned.
Upon seeing her red eyed but stoic figure, Orison felt like throwing caution to the wind and explaining everything to her as best he could in what he hoped was a way she could understand. He tried but couldn't utter a word. He realized, at that moment, he too had been affected by the process to 'become authentic'. The cold chills he occasionally experienced when skirting modern concepts wasn't a coincidence or some symptom of PTSD. It was a warning or more like a shock from bumping against a law of existence or so he figured.
After wordlessly staring at each other for an uncomfortable period of time, Droya assured she was 'ready as she would ever be', unaware of Orison's own horrific revelation. Packing away those thoughts and feelings for the time being, Orison shook himself loose in a comical display that earned a weak chuckle from Droya.
Orison read the letter aloud then began to explain, "This is a work in progress inside my head so I need to get it all out first, then we discuss?"
Droya took a deep breath and slowly exhaled then said, "I've grown accustomed to your thinking process by now, little cub. I'm more inclined to listen than talk at the moment anyway. From the sound of it, we have some time to... work out the details."
Orison began, "I won't harp on the first part. The way they worded it made it seem like he might wander out of the land of souls someday but the rest of the letter shows where they actually stand on the issue. We grieve and move on. If for some reason he does return it will be a happy, if awkward day and he'll just have to understand."
Droya cut in to say, "My thoughts and heart are my problem to solve, sweetling. I'll get where I need to be in due time."
Orison gave her an unsurprised look of tolerant exasperation and continued, "As for father's first adopted orphan, this Venito Arentus boy, he's a mushroom. That means he was kept in the dark and fed bulls-, er, dung. The war leader house that took him in and sat on him until we stepped forward has obvious ulterior motives."
For the first time since their talk in the tavern, Orison lied to Droya because he had no choice. Even if he could, it would be awkward saying he knew the child's backstory from a game. " I know Venito from the orphanage, though I doubt he'll remember me. If I recall correctly, he confused father for a person from a certain group of people which I cannot name or openly speak of, ever. Please believe me when I say I would if I could... Give me a moment to get this organized in my head. I don't want to get any of it wrong."
Droya nodded and said, "Take all the time that you need. I'm not going anywhere."
Trying to slow down towards the last half of his meal didn't buy Orison any time. It just meant he wouldn't get to finish as Droya started right where she left off as if she had only paused for a breath rather than took twenty minutes to eat.She said, "I can't protect you from an enemy I don't know you have. In case you didn't know, that's one of many jobs I accepted when I decided to be your mother. I don't know what you think of me, Orison, but I didn't do that with halfhearted feelings."I don't expect you to put all your trust in me right away. I know there will be times we don't see eye to eye and I'm far from perfect. I'll make mistakes. But when my life is done and I face the woman who gave you life in the great beyond, I don't want to do it ashamed. That means, as much as I want you to like me, as much as I want us to be as close or closer than a mother and son by birth, I will not compromise on the important things. I will not bribe you for your affection at the cost of your well-being. I sure as the abyss won't stand idly and watch you throw yourself into needless danger, not until life or circumstance force us to part."Confide in me and I'll be your safety net. Earn my trust, inspire my faith in you and I'll give you freedom. Lie to me, make a fool of me and I'll become your jailer until you're an adult. That would be a long five years for both of us...Now what should I do? It's difficult to find an appropriate punishment for a child who never plays!"Droya's chuckle earned a nervous one from Orison before she said, "I just bought a new hand thresher. When we get home I'll divide the yard up into seven parts and you'll do one a day til they're done. Take your time and space it out because other than that you have nothing else to do for the rest of the day except stuff one side with food and empty the other until bed. No books and no training for a week.And before I hear a complaint about it, I swear if something happens to your precious history books during that time, robbing you of a precious learning opportunity, I'll buy replacements for each and every one, even if I have to hock my mother's jewelry to do it."Even if you hadn't gotten in trouble I'd have made you take a break from the training yard until I figured out how much is good for you to be doing at your age... Orison, girls might admire a hero but, in my mind, that's the last thing a mother should want her son to be. Be happy, live well and live a long time."Orison stewed on her words and said, "I'll admit to trying to downplay the situation and for that I'll take my licks but for what I did, for taking the risk to save that girl, I don't feel the least bit sorry and I'd do it again. I can't not be me."She smiled sadly and said, "I'm more angry at myself than you for that, little cub. I wasn't there and I feel like I should have been. One whole day and one whole night was enough to almost lose you twice, to undo everything I had tried to do to let you know you were safe... It made me feel like I was the liar."But enough about that. This is about you. You attack each day like you expect the sky to fall. You fill every second squeezing every drop of worth from everything around you like you expect it to disappear... I'm not saying it can't happen and I know I'm not strong enough to hold up the whole sky but I feel like I can hold up the sky around our house for a week though. Cut some grass and watch the sun set. Sing a song and pull some weeds. Get sweaty and go take a bath in the horse trough, if that's what you want to do but but breathe, sweetling."Find a way to ease the tension inside you even when the world seems dark at midday. Play for The Maker's sake. It's not your turn to hold the sky up yet but even if it was, you'll fall to your enemies without them even having to lift a hand if all they have to do is tap your strings and watch you wear yourself to nothing."They left the tavern thinking their own thoughts. Meeting Rithus, Lithis' father, and Morrel, the ex-slave steward of their house brought some new and surprising considerations. It seemed that Droya knew Morrel, a middle-aged wood elf with faded facial tattoos and filed teeth in dire need of being coated with resin again or they'd rot out of his head. Apparently, a few years back, Droya was being chased by some Summer Domain soldiers and Morrel had hid her under his coachman seat.After learning that Rithus and Morrel had divvied up the majority of the loose wealth the crazy elf's son didn't know about to fund Lithis and her lover's trip back home and was looking for work, Droya wanted to take them in but was too afraid of reprisal from the crazy elf's son. A problem that Orison had a ready solution to. Instead of trying to hide the truth of Orison's deed outright, he suggested they leave it an open secret by taking the two in and letting it be known by courier to the elf's son that they had the journal with his father's ugly deeds in it and remind the son that Orison's father had inheritable Empire titles. With a small reminder that even the dumbest of investigators could uncover the trail of Orison's rescue of a slave damsel from an unknown cultist, with or without proof, the Empire could use an unfortunate event happening to the family of the Dragonblood to raise the Abyss itself. The Summerland Domain would fall all over itself to look for a scapegoat only to find one all too easy. Since the Domain didn't like heretics anyway it was a win-win for everyone but the crazy elf's house.To put it simply, from a practical standpoint, Orison convinced Droya that taking in the two ex-slaves was more insurance not danger. If she wasn't able to breathe and relax after not doing what her conscious was wanting her to do then how could she expect him to?"You need a maid. Our house is huge, the distance to the village is long. You're a war leader's wife and a baroness of the Empire. Since you just got us a competent, if a little scary, steward and a general staff all you need is a maid. I mean, they came with their own cart and horses, maybe a maid would come with free sewing equipment or something... The new mini wood bath house that Rithus made is nice and all but the trough heated itself if you left it in the sun for an hour or so. We could maybe put a wood stove in it? Oh, and one for the water closet after a vent's been put in. Don't just shoot it down. The water tank and flushing bowl, the small basin for hand and face washing were both good right?" Orison opined to Droya on day six of his 'relax' punishment.When Orison finished much earlier than he intended, he started thinking about ways to make their lives better. Since writing materials were banned when he was caught doodling possible cipher cracks instead of poetry, he would shotgun blast them at Droya to see what would stick.In annoyance she growled, "When I told you to play I didn't mean use my last nerve as a jumping rope."He said, "One last thing and I'll go play in the mud or something."Wide eyed, she said, "Don't you dare!"Grinning cheekily Orison drawled, "Because there is no maid to help with the washing? Okay! Okay! Stop chasing me and I'll get to the point and away from your ear... How long are you going to wait?"Droya narrowed her eyes. "Wait for what?"Orison sighed. "I don't want this to turn into a fight but mom, we are living in a paused story. I understand many of the reasons why you want to wait til dad gets back but three weeks without even a courier note? Not that I'm advocating for greed's sake but dad is rich and if, just if, something has happened, no one will just volunteer it to us. The more time passes, the greater the chance of others finding ways to siphon it elsewhere."At the very least, write an inquiry of estate to Whitewater. That's an official request that at least lets them know you're not content to waste away over here, oblivious. It also holds the treasurer accountable, as in, he has to send you an official record of account with a list of assets. That's something which can be used to investigate fraud. Don't forget the signet seal so the document's arrival will be recorded at every stop. Don't want anyone pulling a lost in transport excuse."Droya exclaimed, "How do you know all this?"Orison thought for a moment and replied, "Record of Northland Law and Amendments. The volume in our libr-. I read it BEFORE you punished me."Droya conceded. "I'll look it over. If you've remembered it right, I'd be a fool not to. It just feels bad planning for the worst, it's like I've lost faith."Orison replied, "Faith after confirmation. Conviction after evidence."***"Morrel, please wait! Don't push any further! It's starting to really hu-hurt!," Orison panted.Morrel chuckled as he added just a little more pressure, "It's your first time so you're going to be really tight. Just take as deep a breath as you can and let it out slowly. Yes, just like that."Orison's shuddering breath turned into a half sob as he felt himself widen just a bit more, trying desperately to relax his muscles to accommodate the wood elf leaning into him.Morrel started breathing a little heavier, feeling the strain of maintaining absolute control of his body and Orison's as he said, "The longer this takes, the more pain you feel. Once you take it all the way down it will not hurt nearly as much. After a couple of times, not only will it stop hurting, it will start feeling good. Eventually your day wont even feel complete until you've done it at least once."Letter in hand, Droya walked in on them. Eyes wide and hand flying to her mouth, she said, "Oh my! And in broad daylight!?"With legs nearly 160 degrees apart and Morrel nearly doing a push-up on his back, Orison rolled his watery eyes and said in a raspy squeak, "Don't be gross, mom."Righting himself, Morrel complained, "His body is still mildly out of balance and unnaturally resistant to change. That it has only taken two fortnights to right the hidden wrongs within him is short of a miracle."Droya said ruefully, "Pity it wasn't short of my purse strings. No, don't think I doubt you. Just one look and I can tell those Emerald Vale herbs did him a world of good. I'm just venting stale air. Hehe, all that basting, baking and boiling-"Orison interjected, "Don't forget freezing. I doubt that lake is fit for swimming even in high summer."Looking mildly irritated at the interruption, she continued, "Right... For a moment I thought you were torturing him for information or preparing him for a special dinner."Faking offense, Morrel responded, "Any other child not of the Green Sea could only pray in vain to receive such kindness from me. Besides, only a heart matron and her honored guests could enjoy such a carefully prepared main course. Even then, only on Longest Day. My tribe's matron was fond of Domain soldiers as fresh from the battlefield as possible... Our boy here was born on Longest Night, if memory serves. No one would eat him on such a special occasion for fear it would bring winter to the Vale. Ha!"Droya and Orison both hid a cringe as she changed topic. "At any rate, I figure you earned a little retribution after my little cub spent hours drumming those tattoos back on your face."Nodding his thanks to Orison and glancing at the letter in Droya's hand, Morrel finished, "Nonsense. I'm endlessly grateful. And with the healing, I only had partial paralysis for two days. The lines were preserved passably well and that's what matters...But, by your leave, I should be off to other things so the two of you can address yours."Waving the official looking envelope in her hand, Droya said, "Another letter has arrived. Since it's getting late, I've invited the courier to stay, as you've so kindly pointed out I'm obligated to. Read it together?"Orison said dryly, "Oh goody. After the last one required us to send signed copies of our marriage and adoption registrations to buy them time to plot, suuurely this must be GOOD news... At least it's not another letter from that psycho son of a cultist."Honestly, acting as if he was glad his father was dead and four slaves lighter. Eagerly anticipating the day of my majority, assured we will become the fastest of friends after you refused his request to pay visit? That was after, what was it? Oh, paying a sketch artist to 'capture' my likeness and sending me a magicked copy praising my present and future comeliness. As if he could convince me he'd have the, um, jewels to send an assassin. Make no mistake, momma Yaya. I won't let my guard down but I'm more worried about that artist than I am him, all set up in the village square like he owned the place. I didn't even see him look at me once!"Giving Orison a mysterious and knowing look, Droya said, "There's plenty to be worried about but I really don't think... That's not important. Are you going to read this or am I?"Orison sighed and said, "You might as well. It'll keep my hands free to make rude gestures at the air while you're too distracted to notice."With a little reluctance and slightly trembling hands, making Orison silently curse himself for being insensitive, Droya read, "It is with heavy h-hearts we bear news from the, from the Keeper at the Hall of the Valiant..."As Orison reached for Droya to guide her to a chair, he asked, "We don't need to finish it now. Mom, maybe-"She gently but firmly grabbed the hand reaching for her shoulder and shoved the letter into it. Wiping her eyes once she said, "I've had time to prepare. This is important. Just read it for now and I'll be back in a moment."Against the tide of rising guilt, Orison reminded himself that none of this was his fault. Figuring that the inevitable anger he'd have after getting to the relevant parts of the letter, would at least keep him distracted and thinking safer thoughts, he kept reading. By the time he had read through it for the third time to make sure he didn't miss any important details, Droya returned.Upon seeing her red eyed but stoic figure, Orison felt like throwing caution to the wind and explaining everything to her as best he could in what he hoped was a way she could understand. He tried but couldn't utter a word. He realized, at that moment, he too had been affected by the process to 'become authentic'. The cold chills he occasionally experienced when skirting modern concepts wasn't a coincidence or some symptom of PTSD. It was a warning or more like a shock from bumping against a law of existence or so he figured.After wordlessly staring at each other for an uncomfortable period of time, Droya assured she was 'ready as she would ever be', unaware of Orison's own horrific revelation. Packing away those thoughts and feelings for the time being, Orison shook himself loose in a comical display that earned a weak chuckle from Droya.Orison read the letter aloud then began to explain, "This is a work in progress inside my head so I need to get it all out first, then we discuss?"Droya took a deep breath and slowly exhaled then said, "I've grown accustomed to your thinking process by now, little cub. I'm more inclined to listen than talk at the moment anyway. From the sound of it, we have some time to... work out the details."Orison began, "I won't harp on the first part. The way they worded it made it seem like he might wander out of the land of souls someday but the rest of the letter shows where they actually stand on the issue. We grieve and move on. If for some reason he does return it will be a happy, if awkward day and he'll just have to understand."Droya cut in to say, "My thoughts and heart are my problem to solve, sweetling. I'll get where I need to be in due time."Orison gave her an unsurprised look of tolerant exasperation and continued, "As for father's first adopted orphan, this Venito Arentus boy, he's a mushroom. That means he was kept in the dark and fed bulls-, er, dung. The war leader house that took him in and sat on him until we stepped forward has obvious ulterior motives."For the first time since their talk in the tavern, Orison lied to Droya because he had no choice. Even if he could, it would be awkward saying he knew the child's backstory from a game. " I know Venito from the orphanage, though I doubt he'll remember me. If I recall correctly, he confused father for a person from a certain group of people which I cannot name or openly speak of, ever. Please believe me when I say I would if I could... Give me a moment to get this organized in my head. I don't want to get any of it wrong."Droya nodded and said, "Take all the time that you need. I'm not going anywhere."
