Turning to Emlyn, “Fy lleidr bach, what’s your opinion of clan food so far?”
“It’s been delicious,” Emlyn confirms.
“I’m glad you like it,” Atres grins, “You know, it’s not just Harito that I’d like to show you. There’s so much of Tassatung that I want to show you. I’d love to take you to Iridon, the capital, and the King’s Guard Armory there. I might have to put a tracking spell on you before I let you wander around in there, so that I don’t lose you. It’s huge and more of a museum than an actual armory, but I think you’d love it, with your interest in all things military. Maybe, when all of this mess with Divaros is done and dusted, we can take a trip to Dotara, where I grew up.”
Grinning, Emlyn looks up at him, “Going to take me to meet your family?”
“Only if you wanted to,” Atres shrugs, “Otherwise, it’s beautiful country, and I’d love for you to see it. It’s high in the mountains. Craggy peaks, high passes, with gorgeous lakes in some of the valleys. Stunning waterfalls in places. Some amazing places to hunt. Lovely places to lie back and stare up at the stars.
“Dragons do like their mountains,” Emlyn says agreeably, “My people prefer cliff faces so that you can carve the keep right into them. I think meeting your family would be quite nice.”
Kethas bustles around preparing for the arrival of the men from Clan Rothe and Clan Valkis and making dinner while he chuckles at Atres and Emlyn.
Circling high over the village of Dotara, Sea Hunter screeches loudly over and over, waking Sothra. Sothra’s cabin is a place where the veil between the mundane and the mystical thins. Nestled at the edge of the village, it leans slightly with age, its walls woven from dark pine and rune-etched driftwood, each piece humming faintly with protective wards. Sea Hunter can sense the wards so he guesses that he’s in the right place. Inside the cabin, grumbling to herself, an older woman pulls on an outer garment and shoves her feet into some boots. Taking up a heavy staff with a crossbar, she stomps out into the snow and whistles, planting the staff firmly.
She chuckles as the bird plummets toward her and watches in fascination as he rotates to land on the staff.
Fluffing himself, Sea Hunter announces his arrival with a scream.
“Hush, now!” Sothra grins at him, “You’ll wake everyone. Let’s go back inside, where we can both be warm, and you can tell me what brings you so far north.”
Sea Hunter ducks his head in agreement with the sentiments about warmth. Sothra reaches behind her and opens the door, so Sea Hunter launches himself inside, taking up a perch on the back of a chair. Sothra sighs and follows the bird in, closing the door. The carved wooden chair Sea Hunter has chosen for his perch sits in front of a desk, worn smooth by decades of use, cluttered with divination tools: bone dice, obsidian mirrors, and a deck of cards that seem to shift subtly when not watched.
Kicking off her boots, Sothra pads across the space, over her meditation mat, and pulls open a hatch. Feeling for the game she left to freeze in the snowbank, she pulls out a rabbit. Returning quickly to the fire, she drops it onto the hearth to begin to thaw out. Her fireplace takes up most of one wall, its flames dancing over stones carved with ancestral sigils.
Above it, bundles of herbs hang from the rafters, some for healing, others for vision. Throwing off her coat, Sothra sets out a bowl of water next to the rabbit. The walls are lined with shelves crammed with jars of powders, bones, and preserved roots, each labeled in a looping script known only to the shaman and their apprentices. The air inside is thick with the scent of dried dotara blossoms, crushed herbs, and the faint tang of old smoke.
Settling in, Sothra takes some herbs and rolls them up. Lighting them, she places them in a bowl and inhales the smoke.
After a time, she looks at Sea Hunter, “Now that I can understand you properly, tell me how the Shaman of the Valkis can help you.”
Sea Hunter delivers Kethas’s message, and Sothra smirks briefly before answering. “I never thought Atres would bond with anyone after they tried to force him into a bond with Rikissa. We had wondered if they’d broken that ability in him. There must be more to this girl-child than meets the eye. I’ll pass your request on to his cousins, and we’ll see what they have to say. The snow is deep, and travel won’t be easy. They may not want to make the journey before spring, and spring comes late up here. Get some rest for now, and that rabbit is yours when it thaws out. We’ll see what they say in the morning.”
Sothra throws a bit more wood on the fire and returns to her sleep.
She wakes up as Sea Hunter tears at the rabbit and climbs out of bed. Dressing for the cold, she heads outside to find her assistant lugging an armful of firewood.
“Tethra,” Sothra directs, “put that down and go find Oso, Rilgi, and Usurg, and tell them to come here.”
“Yes, grandmama,” Tethra replies.
As Tethra begins to open the door, Sothra warns her, “Mind the big erne by the fire. He’s eating.”
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“Oh! I did hear that last night,” Tethra says, eyes wide.
Moving slowly to avoid startling the giant raptor, Tethra slips into the cabin and deposits the firewood before quietly leaving. She then runs off to find her cousins. Sothra returns to her cabin and waits. A few minutes later, there’s a knock, and she admits the three young men.
“Come inside,” Sothra gestures, “Stop letting all the heat out. Our guest is uncomfortable enough.”
“What’s this, then?” Usurg asks, gesturing at the enormous sea eagle, still finishing up the rabbit.
“I got a message last night from one of the Clan Rothe in Harito about Atres,” Sothra explains. “He’s asking if you can come to Harito because he thinks Atres needs your help. He’s started to bond with a girl there, and his premonitions have thrown him into a protective frenzy. This Kethas thinks having you there might steady him and help him sort out how to keep the girl alive.”
“So he can bond,” Oso nods. “I know you had wondered about that. Of course I’ll go. If nothing else, I want to meet this woman.”
“Hrmph,” Sothra grumbles. “More like a girl-child, according to this Kethas, if I read the message right.”
“Even better,” Rilgi grins. “I can’t wait to see who’s got our Atres dancing on a string.”
Sothra looks at Usurg, who shrugs. “If they’re going, I may as well tag along. Just be sure to convey my offer for Ulesthi if we’re not back in time.”
Sothra nods. “I will do that. We’ll see what her family says about it.”
Laughing, Oso elbows Rilgi. “Looks like we’ve got some packing to do. I’ll get the sleds ready. We can take Sircan with us until the snow runs out. He can bring the sleds back.”
Nodding, Sothra shoos them out.
Settling herself again, she consumes more herbs and prepares herself for meditation. Breathing in the smoke again, she addresses Sea Hunter and forms her reply. Once she’s sure that Sea Hunter has understood the message, she opens the door, and he sails out. Wings beating strongly, Sea Hunter heads south, away from the mountains toward warmer temperatures and the promised reward.
Laughing, Oso, Rilgi, and Usurg head out to find Sircan.
Rilgi grins at him, “Come on, brother. We need to get down the mountain, and you’ll have to bring the dogs and the sleds back. With any luck, the pass will still be open. Atres is bonding and needs our help to keep her on this side of the veil.”
“Good news and bad,” Sircan grimaces, “all at once. Atres has the most damnable luck.”
“That he does,” Oso agrees, “but if there’s a way to do it, we’ll find it. I’d like to see him happy for a change. The last few times he’s come home to visit, he’s been…”
Oso pauses, searching for the right words.
Usurg provides them, “It’s like he’s a shadow of himself, dimmer somehow.”
“I’d like to see him back to his old self,” Rilgi agrees, “even if it means him playing pranks on everyone in the village.”
Grinning, Atres receives directions to Milvara’s shop and decides to check if it’s open. Since Midwinter is one of the busiest seasons for parties and balls, Milvara and her staff are all there and very busy. To Milvara’s surprise, when the door opens, a tall and almost impossibly handsome man stands inside her shop. His curly brown hair complements the amber-gold of his eyes. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and a square jaw shape his face. The flaring coat emphasizes his slim waist and broad shoulders, while the rest of the King’s Guard leathers clings invitingly to his heavily muscled frame. None of this escapes Attia, Milvara’s shop assistant, who rushes to greet him, batting her lashes.
“Hello there,” Attia purrs, “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I am told,” Atres says with a small smile at Attia, “that Milvara makes clothing for Nia ferch Hayden ap Rhys. Am I in the correct place?”
Attia is a young woman with a quick hand for stitching and a heart that often wanders where it shouldn’t. While Milvara and her staff are known for their discretion, inside the shop, bolts of fabric and whispered gossip are equally standard. Though diligent in her duties, Attia is prone to distraction, especially when handsome men enter the shop.
Her infatuations are frequent and transparent, much to Milvara’s amusement and occasional exasperation. She’s expressive and emotional, often pouting when teased or dismissed, and has a flair for dramatics that makes her both endearing and exasperating. Her presence adds a touch of levity and warmth to the shop, and while she may not always be the most efficient assistant Milvara’s ever had, she is undoubtedly one of the most memorable.
“Of course you are,” Attia coos at him.
Taking his arm, Attia directs him to the chair, “You’re most definitely in the right place. Now, please tell me how I can help you?” Perching herself on the arm of another chair and leaning over to display her cleavage, Attia tries to flirt with Atres.
“We require a set of King’s Guard leathers for Nia,” Atres explains, seemingly oblivious to Attia’s attempts to flirt, “Since she’s not comfortable having our male tailors taking measurements in some… uncomfortable places, she suggested that we place the order with you instead. We can supply you with the pattern, but it will need to be altered so that the fit is a bit more… feminine. However, she must still be recognizable as one of us. None of our patterns have a female version since I believe that Nia is a first, at least here in Harito, possibly Tassatung.”
“What exactly did you have in mind?” Attia says, leaning forward a bit more.
“Some alterations to make it more suitable for her… different build,” Atres explains, waving a hand in the general direction of his chest.
Laughing inwardly at Attia’s failed attempts at flirting, Milvara comes out from the back of the shop and shoos the disappointed Attia away.
“I am Milvara,” Milvara says, introducing herself. “If I may, I’d like to look at your coat, since that seems to be the most complicated part of the set.” Nodding, Atres removes his coat and hands it to Milvara.
Attia sees this and sighs dreamily, earning her a sharp look from Milvara. Milvara sets aside other work and lays the coat out on one of the worktables, examining how the panels fit together.
“Hmm...” Milvara says, “Yes, we can put some ease in here, tuck the waist in a bit more here with some darts. We’ll have to adjust the collar and fastenings slightly so they fall a bit lower to accommodate her. It seems simple enough to do, and we already have her measurements.”
“How soon do you think it might be ready?” Atres asks.
“If you can tell me who to charge this to and deliver the male version of the pattern today or early tomorrow, we can have a test garment ready for Nia to try on in... hmm... a few days.”
“You can send the bill to Argonath Falkur at the King’s Guard,” Atres smirks. “If the garments turn out well, we’ll be back for the rest of her uniforms.”
Milvara has Atres sign the order, and Atres leaves the shop grinning widely, hoping to arrange a surprise for his little thief. Chuckling, Milvara retreats to her workroom as Attia wanders over.
“Do you think he’ll be back to pick them up?” Attia sighs. “I suppose I could deliver them.”
“I think I’ll send Mikas,” Milvara laughs. “He won’t make half the fool of himself that you just did. That man isn’t interested in you in the slightest. I thought you were going to fall off the chair. Now, get back to work and stop mooning over the King’s Guard.”
Pouting, Attia returns to her work.
Boltir’s Atres Watch
Observation: "His cousins say he’s a 'shadow of himself' when he’s away from her. It’s pathetic! A real dwarf would be out mining or writing a saga, not moping around like a lost goat. I’m docking him 5 points for 'Lack of Personal Fortitude.'
Boltir’s Tip Jar Current Total: 14 coppers and a very small, very angry crab named 'Snips.'
Boltir’s Plea: "Did you see that assistant, Attia, practically falling off her chair trying to flirt with him? Throw a copper in the jar so I can hire her to follow Atres around full-time. Maybe if she keeps 'displaying her cleavage' at him, he’ll get distracted long enough for me to write Nia a decent sonnet!"
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