“That one was also about her,” Atres grimaces. “Ember was talking about taking her sire’s blade and locking it away. It was a wall of fear, dread, horror, and revulsion-something worse than death. It nearly drove me to my knees, literally. That’s why I haven’t tried to get her to put it away. For some reason, she needs to have that one with her, so I leave it with her, even though I hate the poison that drips into her ear every time she reaches for it. I don’t want to know what’s worse than dead. I don’t want her to find out, either.”
“I was here when that happened,” Kethas says. “He went white as a starched sheet and almost buckled. It took him a while to shake that off, even after Ember relented about taking the blade.”
“So we counter it with opposite messages,” Otrin shrugs. “We tell her as often as we can that none of this was her fault. Until we can figure out what to do about it.”
“Since I can’t do what I really want to do, which is to snap it into little pieces and toss it in the ocean, I’ve been wracking my brain to come up with ways to make him uncomfortable,” Atres grins, “Maybe uncomfortable enough to stop that putrid tripe he spews at her. I think I need to climb the bell tower at her temple and hang him off one of the bells for a while. They chime every quarter of an hour. I’ve thought about taking him home to Dotara and leaving him stuck in a snowbank next to the frozen fish for a while. I thought about shoving him into the smokehouse and letting him have a slow roast for a bit, too. I’ve thought about finding out what music he hates and arranging for him to have to listen to it for a good long while. I think a talk with her grandfather might give me some more ideas.”
Gramin laughs, “You’ve had some good ones. We’ll see if we can’t come up with a few. Maybe one of them works. Maybe tie him on the spokes of a wheel on one of our trade carts for a while.”
“Let me have a go at him,” Vorlig shrugs.
“That might be the best idea any of us has had yet,” Gramin nods.
Sighing heavily, Atres looks a bit sad.
“What’s that face for?” Otrin asks.
“I had hoped I’d be the one to make her feel safe,” Atres says with a wince.
“Boyo,” Gramin grins, “You don’t have that much history with our Girlie. We’ve known her since she could walk, and we’ve fought beside her. She knows what we’re capable of. I doubt you’ve had a chance to do that yet. It’ll come.”
“Kethas, we’ll need more ale for this,” Otrin grins, “You’ll see why we call her a lode stone for trouble.”
Nodding, Kethas brings more pints and passes them around.
“She was still a tot, not even walking good yet. Somehow, she found her way into the forge. We were pouring bronze bearings for some new machinery that day, and the wax we’d used for the castings was reacting with the metal. The whole mess was spitting and sparking.”
“Gods! My heart almost stopped,” Gramin grins. “She had a jar and was trying to catch the forge sparks like they were fireflies.”
“I scooped her up and carted her back to Gendini,” Loket grins, “She was crying because all the little bits of molten metal she’d caught in her jar quit glowing.”
Even Vorlig grins, “We should have started teaching her.”
“Her parents wouldn’t hear of it,” Otrin explains, “but we’d have seen to it that she was safe. Instead, they blocked her completely, which just made the forge that much more attractive to our Girlie. I’m certain that a few of Gendini’s gray hairs are from chasing after Girlie to keep her away from the forge.”
“If she’d been one of ours and that fascinated by fire and hot metal,” Gramin explains, “We’d have started teaching her, even at that age. There would have been rules, but she wouldn’t have been completely blocked from it. It might not have been so attractive if she’d been allowed in under more controlled circumstances and with some supervision.”
“She’s still fascinated with metal,” Atres says, “I think that’s why she’s so interested in these expansions to her Temple.”
“I think our first real fight with Girlie was that mess in Kegia,” Loket says.
“I think you’re right,” Otrin nods, “It wasn’t that long after she’d been consecrated the first time. We were stuck in Kegia on the wrong side of the border during one of their semi-annual sword-rattling contests.”
“What he means is they had constant border disputes with Kegia,” Loket grins, “We were pretty sure that they were planning to rob us and leave us in a ditch. A few carts of jewelry and cook pots don’t have much military significance. They had no reason to hold us.”
Nodding, Otrin continues, “Somehow, Melfyn found out and sent a coded message saying he was sending help, but not the military, since it would have started an outright war. He told us to be on the lookout and ready to move.”
“One thing about the Kegian army,” Loket says, “they were very big on their mealtimes. You could practically set your watch by their meals. Right as they’re all tucking into their dinner, we hear this big commotion.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Laughing, Otrin agrees, “There was a big brawl going on, and this group was just plowing through the Kegian regulars who weren’t busy eating, and they’re headed our way. We geared up and got the trade carts ready. They get there, and Girlie grins at me and says, ‘Come on. Grandda’s waiting.’ We start carving our way back through the Kegians. It was me, Girlie, and Loket on point. Between her blade, Loket’s axe, and my spear, we were cutting the path out of there. Vorlig and a couple of her friends on one side. Gramin and a couple more on the other side, and the rest in the rear. The trade carts slowed us down a bit, but it didn’t take the Kegian regulars long to realize they didn’t want to be in our path. Towards the end, they put up just enough of a fight not to get into trouble and then got out of our way. We finally made it to her family’s keep, and Melfyn was there, grinning at us.”
“I asked if rescuing us was going to create problems with Kegia. Melfyn and all of our rescuers just about died laughing. Melfyn looks at me and says, ‘Only if the Kegian army wants to publicly admit defeat at the hands of my granddaughter and her playmates.’ That’s when all the helms came off, and it really was Girlie and her friends,” Otrin laughs, “It was a genius move. Melfyn put the fear of the Cymry into those Kegians, saved our hides, and then made the Kegians themselves cover the whole thing up.”
“I asked Melfyn about it later,” Loket chuckles, “Melfyn said that it came up during the negotiations that an ‘unknown group’ had attacked the Kegian army. He told them it wasn’t an unknown group at all. His granddaughter was waiting for a doll that was on one of our trade carts. The Kegians wouldn’t let us across the border, so she and her playmates went to get her new toy. Melfyn said that the Kegian Army commander turned purple and just walked out of the negotiations. They finally struck a deal with the ambassador and some officials.”
“I am certain,” Otrin laughs, “that a lot of Kegian commanders got demoted that day. They had to cover it up because if word got around to their other enemies that they got their asses handed to them by a pack of children, there would have been no end to the bloodletting.”
“What was the next fight?” Otrin asks, “Wasn’t that the one against the werewolves?”
“I thought it was that time we got one of the carts stuck, and the p’tah swarm came,” Loket says.
“No, the p’tah swarm was after the thing with the bandits, and I think the werewolves were after the p’tah swarm,” Gramin says, “I think the next one was that damn drake that wanted to eat the horses.”
“Whatever it was,” Otrin laughs, “You get the point. We’ve been in some fairly hairy situations with our Girlie. That brings a kind of trust you don’t get any other way.”
Benger nods, “After the cowpies and the bandits, I’d trust her with just about anything.”
“What’s this?” Gramin asks.
Benger launches into retelling the stories. “She wasn’t walking very far yet,” Benger grins, “so I’d just pick her up and carry her when her legs gave out. I took her out to the garden to sit in the sun and went to get something to drink. Those girls were terrible to her, so she was just as terrible to them. Told one of them that the ‘few arrows short of a full quiver thing she had going on was what was probably putting most of the men off, but if she kept at it, she might be able to catch one of them having an off day and get him to agree to bed her’.”
Vorlig snorts.
“That sounds like our Girlie,” Loket laughs.
Benger nods and finishes up the story about the hired assassins. “That was the first time I think she saved my life. The next time was against the bandits.”
“Damn, that was close,” Otrin grimaces when Benger finishes the story.
“She over-extended herself rather badly,” Benger nods, “I still feel bad about that. I should have been praying for assistance while she and Jathon were talking his family out of that killing zone. Now that I know, I won’t make that mistake a second time. It’s set her back quite a bit. The third time was at the inn, where we stopped for the night.”
“Is that where Abato tried to sneak into her bath?” Atres asks, and Benger nods.
Otrin frowns, Loket scowls, Gramin grumbles, and Vorlig’s eyes go hard as flint.
“The inn is about halfway between here and my family home, so it seemed like a good place to spend the night. I knew she’d be getting tired, and I didn’t relish the idea of making her camp in the woods,” Benger explains, “We pulled in and got rooms. I thought she’d appreciate a hot bath after that fight with the bandits, so I told them baths too.” Benger describes the events at the inn and ends with, “That’s probably the third time she saved my life.”
“What happened to the men?” Loket asks.
“Abato took them off our hands,” Benger shrugs, “We were supposed to be going to my home for a nice, relaxing holiday, so we weren’t equipped for dealing with prisoners. I think she’s got the record for the most eventful start of her service.”
Stretching, Atres sighs, “With all that there is to do, I think I’ll head home to sleep. I’m very glad you’re all here. I’ll see you all at breakfast.”
“This old man is off to bed, too,” Kethas says, placing some keys on the table. “Don’t be late for breakfast, or your Girlie may not leave you much.”
“As usual,” Otrin grins, “There’s a good fight brewing, but I doubt it will be tomorrow. I think we can stow the battle gear for now.”
Kethas is making breakfast for his guests when he hears the clatter of hooves in his courtyard. Pushing the door open, he finds Emlyn atop a big grey stallion. “So… This is the beast you bought, eh?”
Kethas says, looking the animal over, “Hmm… let me see him.” Kethas steps out and approaches carefully. When the horse doesn’t object, he reaches up and scratches him under the jaw.
Kethas’s eyes go unfocused for a few moments, and he nods, “He’s a fine animal. He likes you.”
Kethas takes in the tack, covered in tassels, pompoms, and ornamentation, and sighs, “I see why you want to get him a new tack. That’s a bit decorative for your taste.”
“We get plenty of attention riding through town,” Emlyn agrees, “I’d rather be a bit less noticeable.”
“I think most everyone is up,” Kethas grins, “I’ll tell them that the two of you are out here.”
“What do you think of Otrin, Gramin, Vorlig, and Loket?” Emlyn asks.
“I’m not sure what I make of Vorlig,” Kethas says, “but I like the rest of them. They were telling stories about you last night. They seem to care about you quite a bit.”
“I’ve known all of them since I could walk. I can’t tell you how happy I am that they’re here, but especially Vorlig. He’s quiet, but he sees everything. Out of all of them, he’s the one I’d least like to face. You’d have to be perfection incarnate, absolutely flawless to get past him, and even then, you might not. If you’re a hair overextended, he’ll see it. If you’re starting to tire just a bit, he’ll see it. If you make the tiniest error, he’ll see it. Many people think he’s not intelligent because he doesn’t speak much. If those people are lucky, they never find out how wrong they are.”
“What about the unlucky ones?” Kethas asks.
“He’ll tear them to shreds,” Emlyn nods, “I’ve seen him whisper a few sentences into someone’s ear and send them leaping off a bridge. I’ve also seen him use that big hammer of his to pulp someone.”
“That’s… impressive,” Kethas says.
“No,” Emlyn grins, “That’s scary. It’s also why I’m so happy to see him. If I’ve missed something, he’ll see it and he’ll speak.”
Atres Watch
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Current Count: 22 "Protective Instincts" and 1 "Plan for Creative Torture."
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Observation: "Atres is actually coming up with some decent ideas for making her father's spirit uncomfortable. Hanging the sword from a chiming bell tower? Leaving it in a snowbank? I’ll give the lad this: he’s got a dwarven sense of spite. He’s still docking points for being 'sad' that he wasn't the first one to make her feel safe, though. Listen, Tall Obstacle, you’re competing with a dwarf who carries a hammer called Silence. You’re lucky you’re even in the running!"
Boltir Interviewing Melfyn
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Boltir: "Lord Melfyn, I heard the story about the Kegian rescue. Truly, your tactical use of children was inspired. Now, about my 48-verse ballad—"
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Melfyn (vibrating the steel): "The only thing 'inspired' here is my restraint in not teaching you the Kegian lesson myself. If you mention that ballad again, I will tell my granddaughter that you think her red hair looks like 'rusty copper' in the morning light."
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Boltir: "I would never—that’s slander! It’s 'molten autumn sunset'!"
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Melfyn: "Whatever. Go find a bridge to jump off. Vorlig says it's very effective for silencing fools."
Tip Jar
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Current Jar Total: 130 coppers, a frost-iron shaving, and a very small, very confused doll.
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Boltir’s Plea: "Nia is riding a big grey stallion named Jagannath now. Kethas says the horse likes her. Of course he does! Everyone likes her! I’m saving my copper to buy a 'Self-Grooming Kit' for that horse so I can stay in his good graces. If I can't win over the grandfather, I’ll win over the mount. Toss a coin in the jar! Also, leave a review if you think Atres should actually go through with the 'tie her father to a cartwheel' plan. I’ll provide the rope!"