In the late evening, with dinner cooked and eaten, the kitchen properly cleaned and restored to order, and Eunice sent home for the day, Druce had retired to the great room to join Terezio, who had come up from his still-clean study just a few minutes before. Some detail or discovery earlier that day had darkened his countenance, prompting him to cancel his late afternoon class and shut himself into his study without a word to his wondering apprentice. He had appeared to eat supper and dinner, but sealed himself away again each time. Finally, a half hour after dinner, he had reappeared again and sunk gingerly into one of the chairs by the great room's empty fireplace. About ten minutes after she had noted his presence, Druce had casually walked into the great room with the day's correspondence, making no undue show of interest in his mood.
Of course, since Terezio was who he was, he knew that she knew that he was disturbed. What he knew that she didn't know was just how serious the trouble that disturbed him was. It took him an additional fifteen minutes of silence between the two for him to attempt to breach the subject, and the weak, near voiceless mention of it served only to allow Druce to stop pretending that she didn't know something was wrong.
She stopped reading and looked up at Terezio blankly. "Don't mutter, Rezi; you make me feel as though I'm going deaf. If you meant for me to hear it, say it clearly."
"Evil auras," the battlemage repeated, perching his glasses on top of his head and putting his hands on his face. "You naturally sense evil auras."
The woman chuckled quietly to herself as she looked back down at the letter she held. "No better than I could before."
"Druce," Terezio groaned. "The wound, it- it's a gateway. A portal, a demonic touchstone- not only can you sense evil around you, it is easier for evil to get into you. As in, possession."
"As in, what my daughter and grandson have to brave every day?" Druce asked calmly, looking up from her reading again. "They've found some means of defending themselves from it; I shall have to do the same." With that said, she continued reading the correspondence in her hands as though the matter were settled.
For a few moments, Terezio was speechless, and looked up from his hands only to stare at his completely nonplussed wife. When he could finally force words from his lips, they came in a bare whisper. "Drussandra, you left my side in the night to deliver a message from a demon, and I, I, rigorously trained in multiple schools of magic, knew nothing of it until you told me about a dream that was no dream at all. If I cannot so much as tell when these- these forces- come or go, passing through you like chimney smoke through fine cheesecloth, then how could I presume to-"
Druce put the letter aside, got up from her chair, and crossed the short distance between herself and her husband. Kneeling there, she soothed, "You told me not to touch the swords, dear, and I did anyway. Did I not teach all our children that our actions have consequences? Why should it be any less so for the mother than for the children?"
Terezio scoffed bitterly. "Consequences- certainly." He dropped his hands into his lap, began to reach out to touch his wife's face, then dropped his hands again. His right hand clenched, unclenched, then began patting his thigh with a quiet ferocity that made Druce look at it.
" 'Again,' he said. He said 'again,' as though he knew all about-"
"Perhaps they were friendly," Druce comforted, putting both her hands around her husband's right one. "Enough for her to trust him... she is not much older than he, and it is fashionable, these days, for women her age to take younger consorts."
"When have you ever known that girl to be friendly? Or affectionate? With anyone!" Terezio cried, his voice sharp with both incredulity and sorrow at once. "Any friendliness with him is beside the point, which is-"
"Which is that somewhere in this city walks a Dragonborn upon whom you blame this wound, and all the consequences that come with it, just as surely as he would blame both himself and you," Druce interrupted. "I, if you care about my opinion at all, only blame myself, but even that's not the real issue, because what's done is done, no matter who is to be blamed. The real point, the real issue, is that I must be protected from interloping evil spirits. Since only I can be responsible for the safety of my own soul and flesh, teach me to protect them- how to shield myself. I have, at least, enough archaic magic in my bones for that- don't we all? Isn't that the first precept taught to any abjuration student? Or any demonologist, for that matter? If it were not possible for one to protect oneself against whatever wicked forces that may wish to take residence in flesh, would Trizelle even be able to speak, or write, let alone raise a child, or any other action that requires self-recognition, understanding, or control, no matter how viciously she may manage to do it?"
Terezio stilled himself for a moment, contemplating what he had experienced of his daughter and her son. Finally, he allowed himself to place his left hand delicately on his wife's cheek, which reddened instantly in response.
"Mon bien-aimé," he breathed as she tilted her head so that part of the weight of her head could rest in his hand.
"Oui, mon coeur?" came the simple reply, as Druce closed her eyes completely, enjoying the feel of his touch.
"Arcane. You mean arcane magic, not archaic. There is such a thing as archaic transcription, but...it...doesn't have anything to do with what...what you... you need to know."
"Tell me anyway," Druce smiled with her eyes still closed.
"I don't do much work with it, my love. Ask Mage Commander Caeleh; she's been reassigned to relic reclamation and historic archiving."
"Why?" Druce laughed sadly. "The poor woman is going blind; how is she supposed to read fading stone tablets or dry rotted old scrolls?"
"Well, I am losing memory, potential energy and focus, yet I still have three classes to teach and an apprentice to train," Terezio reminded gently. "Yet because of my encroaching infirmity, I suppose, I may admit that I do not know everything without losing any respect in the process. Since my worst mistake has come to my very door, progeny in hand, and has left with me a kind of strange forgiveness, let me reach out to this less grievous one, and see if she will, out of the bounty of her incredibly well-protected heart, teach some modicum of those natural arts whose existence I have so long and loudly denied."
"I imagine she's either found Ser Voyonov or has been reclaimed by the Sunfire Mercenaries," Druce replied immediately. "I'll make ready some letters to each for you to sign."
"There's no use writing a letter to Ser Voyonov, dear; he cannot read," Terezio sighed.
"Oh- poor soul, someone should teach him- well, then, I shall take Eunice with me, for protection, and we shall make question in person," Druce said frankly, stirring herself as though she intended to get up.
"Where he may be, I don't want either of you," the retired battlemage answered at once. "I will find him myself. The letter to the Sunfire you may draft, but let me see it before you send it- they are still under investigation, and men under watch of guard have a way of taking questions poorly."
"Oh, and speaking of drafting, what shall I begin to pen for this other woman, who has finally sent word of her maidservant, Ser Unessmus, and a man who might be Master Kwai?" Druce asked, turning her head slightly to indicate the letter that she'd put down some time ago.
Terezio snorted, taking Druce by her shoulders in order to guide her to her feet as he himself stood. "By my soul, I shouldn't send her a letter; I should give an honorarium with an invitation to visit the College as a guest scholar. Let's take that matter in hand tomorrow- I'm sure with word of the activities around here, she'll understand the delay."
A bit later that same evening, Iordyn looked at the uneven window slats and the rough hewn look of the tavern walls.
Here, he thought with certainty. If I were he, this would the the place I'd tuck myself into.
But when the young archer entered, he was nearly immediately accosted by sights and smells for which he was just barely ready. Half-naked women, much more insistent upon their chosen trade than the Marsemban ladies that he often tried to proselytize, hung about the necks or on the arms of their chosen marks. Bawdy music poured from a collection of half-drunk musicians tucked into a far corner, and despite the lack of dancing room, quite a few patrons who were just a bit worse off than the source of their entertainment still made a good try of romping around. A pool of fresh vomit oozed from somewhere between the center of the place and the door, its source untraceable amid the crush of moving bodies. It seemed to Iordyn that three working maids were intending to clean it, but every time one of the three of them made directly toward it with rag in hand, she was stopped and turned back to the kitchen or to the bar for something or other. When he turned to the bar, it was with every idea of asking for a rag himself, but the sorely worked bartender cut that thought off instantly.
"What'll you have?" he asked impatiently, slicking his stringy, sweaty hair back away from his forehead with his right forearm.
Iordyn was so cleanly caught off guard that he stuttered, even though he was sure of what he wanted to say. "There's- a mess- right over there, and-"
"You wanna drink that?" the Human scoffed, actually halfway amused. "Can't get ya a mug for it; you want it, lap it up." Although his tone indicated that he would soon move on to the other patrons, one of whom had decided to knock on the table to get his attention, his squinted gaze still rested upon the young archer.
"No, man," Iordyn backpedaled, watching one of the three resolute maids try to make it to the filth again. "Forget about it. Have you seen a Dragonborn tonight? Looks like somebody took an axe to his tail, then popped out his eye?"
"Oh yeah, yeah, I did," the bartender nodded 1noncommittally, folding his arms.
"Still here?" Iordyn prompted, undoing his coin purse's strings intentionally.
"Yeah," the bartender smiled, hoping for the best. His mouth was missing most of the front teeth, and those that remained were various shades of grey and black, but Iordyn forced himself not to cringe at the sight.
"Two of whatever's in his flagon, and send me in his direction," Iordyn said seriously, purse in hand.
The bartender raised a grey-and-blonde eyebrow at him, arms still firmly crossed. "Ever heard of Daggersale? Falcon a mug."
Iordyn sighed and crossed his own arms, certain to keep his purse tucked as close to his body as possible. "You might have noted that the gentleman is some years older than I; he knows his business more thoroughly than his protege could currently hope to do."
The sweaty Human male slicked his disobedient dirty blond and grey hair back again, then shrugged. He turned around, stumped to the side slightly, tugged two mugs off their pitiful looking wooden pegs, then got to the business of filling them. Other patrons, grown even more impatient in the time that it had taken for the short exchange to take place, began shouting and cursing at the bartender for his delay. More disturbed by the abuse than its recipient, the young archer paid a silver piece more than he owed and set off in the direction that was wordlessly pointed out to him.
The first thing that Iordyn noted about Aleksei was that he seemed already asleep. He was on the side of the table that rendered his left side visible first, and his mug rested on the table between his parted elbows. His hands, the right hand partially green scaled while the left was completely silver, were mostly folded. Only the pointer fingers and the thumbs were out, pressing against his smooth scaled draconic snout and under his chin. Since he took no apparent notice of Iordyn, the latter felt free to take his time to truly look at the scars that mangled his sunken left eye's lid and made unnatural tracks over the soft parts of his chest and arms.
"You will spend the night in this place?" Aleksei murmured, his low voice almost completely overwhelmed by the noise of the filthy tavern around him.
Iordyn was surprised at first, but then remembered that he'd had to undergo multiple awareness training sessions as part of his own initiate work. "I had hoped you weren't planning to, as I asked my brother to make ready a second guest place in his house before I left it."
"What is tempting you to look for me?" came the calm request.
"If you're in a mood to share your master's game, Ser Voyonov, I'm of a mood to learn."
Aleksei turned his head first, then opened his right eye, perfectly focusing on Iordyn as though some third eye had told his natural one where to look. "There is no need to prove manhood to me," he said, his voice nearly as quiet as before. "I am wrong for treating you as little boy when here, you are adult man. This is disrespect to you, and your people."
"Respectfully, ser, I admit that next to you, I am but a youth," Iordyn replied. "I have both my eyes and see nothing; you have half your sight and see more of the nature of others than they can tolerate."
"It is experience that speaks to you," Aleksei sighed, shaking his head. "A little time, and you too will see as I see."
"I may as well rent a room then," Iordyn stated at last, moving toward the table and putting both mugs down without sitting down himself. "It very well may take me all night to listen to more than fourty years of experience."
Aleksei chuckled softly, a strange sound from a creature so large, then sighed briefly before draining the mug that was already before him. "From where shall I speak to you- from the ground, from the water, from strange country, or from home?"
Iordyn sat down gingerly on the clearly poorly repaired chair on the other side of the table and slid the mug that was slightly fuller toward the Dragonborn, who made no move to touch it at all. "A strange country, I suppose?" he asked. "I've- I've never left Cormyr. Ever."
"I will speak to you of Arkhosia, for although it is my home, it is far from you. This territory from which I am coming, it is ancestral home of my mother's clan. My mother is my father's last mate, and also he is hers. They are having more children than is normal, for he is finding a love for her that will not let him take another partner, even though it is clear that he still is good for women who are still not bearing. This is a little selfish of him, but also my mother will not say to him, 'I have all I want from you; leave me,' as other women might do."
"Wait, women can tell their husbands to leave them?" Iordyn asked, carefully sipping at the substance in his cup. The heaviness of the dark liquid itself, as well as the strength of its hoppy flavor, surprised him, causing him to make a face before he was able to do anything about it.
"Perhaps you are better used to honey ale, yes?" Aleksei asked politely, not bothering to hold his amusement back.
"This- this is- what is this?" Iordyn remarked finally. "It tastes like medicine."
"Porter," Aleksei replied, sipping his own mug without any concern or trouble. "Perhaps it is tasting like medicine to you because it is."
"Stuff is black as night," Iordyn scoffed as he looked into the mug. "But to you, I suppose it's water."
"Water is water," Aleksei answered smilingly. "Also this has been water, and it will be water again. A little time."
Iordyn looked up at Aleksei pitifully, but took a deep breath and sipped at the substance again. "No, ser, it's nowhere near water," he reported dutifully. "It's more like... sourbread."
Aleksei nodded, as if he agreed. "But fish may swim in it, all the same."
Iordyn squinted his eyes shut. "And so what happened with your mother and father?" he managed, forcing himself to abandon the thought that the creature before him was absolutely insane.
Aleksei nodded again, tapping his mug away from himself a bit. "Now my father and mother are having three sons together. Kristov, who sometimes we are calling Tova or Tovya, is first, Georgiy, who we are calling Igor, is second, I am last. Always I am bigger than is normal, so it is pleasing my mother to have me near her to guard our home and the goats. Many times am I being made fun of for never training to fight with my brothers. There is always little problem with wolves, because of living in mountains, but this one springtime, the problem is much worse. My father is from is warrior clan in the south. Always he is stronger than the herder clans of the mountains; so too are his children stronger than their children. So the chieftain is coming to him and saying, 'My son Petya, you are warrior, and so too are your children. Many times before my children and I are defending our livestock from wolves, but now they are too much for us. Turn them aside before they destroy us.' My father then calls to him Tova and Igor, saying to them, 'Go, make the wolves to fear you, so that they will turn aside.' Tova at once prepares himself, but Igor comes out where I am with our mother, who is teaching me to mate the goats. Igor says to me, 'Tovya is saying that you are too weak and stupid; all day you sew dresses and braid the hair of goats. Because of your maidenhood, now he is being sent out to turn the wolves aside, before we are all killed." Our mother can say nothing to keep me with her; I storm away without weapon. Every wolf I see, I snap its neck with no mercy, and little ways along, I am seeing some barbarians, also with wolves. I do not know one death from another, and although they maybe are screaming, I hear nothing. They see that I alone am too much for all of them, so they are leading me to the wolves' den, where their warriors are. In that day, easily am I taking up their own weapons to destroy every living thing; it is nothing to me."
"Wait," Iordyn interrupted, lifting his hand to halt the story. "You found barbarians' warriors with the wolves, in or near the den? Sounds to me as though they were sending the wolves."
"This may be true," Aleksei smiled. "I do not know this. In that midday, I am turning home, and Tova is meeting me on the path. 'Where are you?' he is saying. 'I am only seeing maybe six wolves- why are you running from your normal place with Mamoshka?' I say to him, 'Come, and I will show you how I sew skirts and braid goats' hair!' This means nothing to Tova, but I fight him anyway, and in little time, he is crying out to me, 'Lyosha! Forgive me! Surely you do not look at the sky and braid goats' hair. If you do not turn aside, I will die this day for those words.' The voice of my brother, calling his death, wakes me from my rage. Then he is saying to me, 'Let me go before you, for there will be much shame if we are coming home together.' I say nothing, but sit in the snow, maybe one, two hours. I am all this time already feeling much shame for nearly killing my oldest brother with the weapons of barbarians, so I am throwing them away from me, and I am returning home when it is nearly dark. Now, our father is at the edge of the camp, sitting in the snow, waiting. When he is seeing me, he says to me, 'Ah, here comes the great slaughterer! Well done; surely the wolf cubs fear you.' "
"But you killed barbarians and wolves," Iordyn replied, raising an eyebrow. "Did Kristov take credit for everything?"
"I am not leaving any barbarians alive for him to see," Aleksei answered. "Maybe I alone am knowing all the blood I am spilling; I do not know this."
"But you had their weapons when you fought him," Iordyn argued persistently. "He didn't notice that you went away from the house empty-handed, yet had something to attack him with when you met him on the road?"
"I do not know this," Aleksei replied, "but always Tova was very wise. To take up arms against a clan mate outside of a legal duel is worthy of punishment, and to take up arms against a blood brother is death. Perhaps he is seeing barbarians' weapons in my hands, but he is also seeing that little brother will earn himself death."
Iordyn contemplated the drink in his mug for a few moments before taking a longer pull of it than he had previously been able to manage. After some silence, he finally said, "I feel like Kristov ought to be telling this story, not you. He nearly got killed by his own little brother, for something he didn't even say. The only one in this tale who would be an even bigger whiner would be Igor, who not only got away without seeing any danger at all, but by your hand, almost won himself whatever favors go along with being the first son."
"This is maybe third time I am hearing same judgement," Aleksei chuckled and nodding. "Lift your mug, and I will drink, and drown my whining. I will do this until you put your mug down again, and then you will speak to me."
"So may it be," Iordyn agreed, lifting his mug for a short while. He watched Aleksei easily manage the substance that had been making him gag with a strange, disgust-tainted admiration. "Alright- you're sitting in Cormyr, but it's still strange to you- and it's all I know. So I'll tell you about my family. I'm last born too- last of six. Stephen is first, then Aaron, then Ielena, then Iona, then Adassa, then I. Adassa was supposed to be an archer, but she was abysmal with the bow. She preferred two handed swords. I was supposed to be a swordsman, but- well- I was about as good with swords as she was with bows. Anyway, Adassa was sent to a marksmanship class so that she could work the bow for her gentlewoman's gathering."
"What is gentlewoman's gathering?" Aleksei asked immediately.
"Oh- it's- do you have any sort of celebration for young girls who may marry? Or- old enough to make families, then?" Iordyn asked, sipping again at his mug.
Aleksei thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nyet, because this is simple matter for herders. Is it many times that women here cannot marry or have children, so that it is special when one can?"
Iordyn bit the backs of his lips and realized that Aleksei had misunderstood the question. "It- I- no, no, most of the women here can marry and have children, it just- we- okay. Basically, the parents hold a celebration to let eligible men know that they can ask for the daughters to be their wives."
"Ah, it is the father and mother giving the permission; this is different," Aleksei sighed. "Yes, in Iceeyes lands, there is time when a father must say to any son's father who asks, 'Yes, she is come to her time; I will ask her and see if she will have your son.' If he does not do this, either the sons' fathers or the daughter herself can say to the chieftain that the first father is not doing what he must do. But it is only first time. After that, it is the woman who says for herself when she will take a mate."
"She says for- your people are very different, Ser Voyonov," Iordyn nearly coughed, having just swallowed a bit more of his drink. "Our women have to prove that they can cook, clean, manage a household, and defend themselves. And Adassa could do all of that, although the last bit was tough, when you expected her to do it with a bow. But she had to advance in this class, you see, or she wouldn't be able to marry, which would make her our father's responsibility for the rest of her life. So Ielena gave her the bow that Stephen had made for her when he hadn't yet been apprenticed. He wasn't supposed to have made it, but he did anyway, because Ielena had had similar trouble with marksmanship. Her trouble, however, was having to touch any weapon at all- she really isn't that kind of person. Anyway, Stephen had told her to tell anyone who asked that she bought the bow from the market, and although she had once told Adassa that, when she gave her the bow, she told her the truth. Adassa took the gift seriously, and thus acquired the focus necessary to muddle through her marksmanship class, and survive the weaponry part of her gentlewoman's gathering. However, so soon as she no longer had to work with the bow, she put it on a special weapon rack in her room and only touched it to wax the string or flex the wood. About two years later, my father insisted to my martial tutor that my weapon specialization had to be some sort of blade. My tutor, ignoring him, would allow me to borrow his daughter's bow to practice shooting. One day, my father caught us at this and removed me from study, saying that I would have to go and buy a bow of my own and a dress if I wanted to go on learning archery. Adassa, hearing of this, asked Ielena and Stephen if they would very much mind that she passed the bow down to me, seeing as it had been a special gift. Both of them agreed, and Adassa actually decided to pick up where my tutor left off, teaching me all that she could. She was a terrible example, but an excellent teacher, and I was often able to actually do what she could only describe. We were careful to practice at night, out of the way, but of course, one night my father caught us. He assumed that I had convinced Adassa to give me her bow, and beat me with it so hard that he broke it. Adassa was furious, and in rage, told her father where the bow had actually come from, which landed Stephen and Ielena in big trouble as well. All four of us were hided but good- Stephen actually started hitting our father back."
"I drink again, for this is true sorrow," Aleksei admitted quietly. "Almost I am not able to tell who is more suffering, you or your father."
Iordyn drank from his own mug with closed eyes, not permitting himself the snap back response that had sprung to his mind. "Explain that, please, ser," he said as he at last looked back at the thoughtful Dragonborn before him.
"Certainly you are suffering, for you are losing weapon that is becoming ancestry from your brother and sisters, and also you are receiving harm from your father with that very weapon itself," Aleksei began.
"With the pieces of it, actually, after it broke," Iordyn added, shaking his head at the memory.
"But also your father is suffering, and almost his suffering is worse, for he is not knowing that he is in pain," Aleksei explained carefully. "All of your brothers and sisters, they are still living?"
"Every one," the archer answered quickly. "Ielena writes a letter once a month, even if she has nothing new to say. She was always methodical like that. Iona tends to write once per season or so... Aaron doesn't like to send letters, and I don't even know what Adassa's up to, but Stephen hasn't received word that any of us are dead. He'd be told first, if anything... although I'm... not certain why. Should be my father, but... no."
"It hurts," Aleksei groaned quietly. "It is like a leaf forgetting that it is part of a tree, that the tree is all around it, and in it. It forgets itself, and instantly, it is not living any more. Lift your mug; I drink."
Iordyn raised his mug, and found it surprisingly lighter than he'd planned. He stopped to look into it without setting it down, so Aleksei finished the balance of his mug and looked at the bewildered young Human with a bemused smirk.
"What is confusing you?" he asked good naturedly when Iordyn realized why the Dragonborn had completely drained his mug.
"I- it- um, it was just... light," Iordyn admitted sheepishly. "I... thought it should be... heavier."
"You used to be lighter, but now... you are maybe a little heavier," Aleksei explained thoughtfully, not quite managing to keep a tone of levity. "I also am little heavy."
"Eh, Ser Voyonov?" the Human snickered. "You're seven feet high and two, maybe three times of me pound for pound; how's that a little heavy?"
"That is honest," the Dragonborn nodded, retreating from the sombre tone at once. "And look, now I am little lighter because of you."
Iordyn, who was just finishing another sip of his mug, set it down and smiled. "Oh- oh, well played, ser. Let us think on happier things, then. Tell me honestly, since you've mentioned that, do you not listen to the words of your gods in any place, or hear their commandments taught?"
"Always I listen to the gods, so long as I am enough awake to hear," Aleksei answered immediately. "One place is as good as another- and also your temple is good place. But there is no place where a god will hear you more clearly than in any other place; also is every place a good place to listen."
Iordyn looked at the bottom of his mug, considering Aleksei's words as well as the fact that the drink, whatever it had been, had not been as bitter at the end as it had seemed at the beginning.
"How do you know when you are asleep?"
"I know I am asleep at the moment that I awake," the Dragonborn answered with an unmistakable tone of compassion.
Iordyn sighed with frustration, putting his mug down entirely so that he could put his face in his hands. "Almost. Almost. I want to understand what you mean when you say things, Ser Voyonov, really, I do."
"A little time- only a little experience, and you will hear me all too well," Aleksei mused, looking up from the Human before him and noticing a strangely similar figure entering the tavern. "Is your brother much looking like you?"
"Which one?" Iordyn replied, putting his head down on the table. "I have three- I told you I had three, remember?"
"Is there one near this place that looks very much like you?" the Dragonborn asked as he watched the eyes of the archer's physical echo catch his own gaze.
"He...he's bigger," Iordyn began. "Your size. All the boys in our school called him the Beast, because he was huge, and much stronger- like you. Only he is firstborn."
"These days, I make the armor for some of those same men," a voice familiar to Iordyn stated. "They're lucky that I fear prison and the disappointment of one dear woman more than I ever used to fear a good fight or a hiding. Shove over, Iordi. Left. Your left."
Without picking his head up from the table, Iordyn managed to shift his chair just slightly to his left. Since he hadn't made enough space by doing so, the large Human standing just next to him simply reached down, picked up the chair with its occupant still in it, and moved them the other half foot it took to give himself enough space.
"Stephen Raibeart- the Beast, if you will," the dark brown haired man grunted as he pulled an unoccupied chair from a nearby table and inspected it briefly. "And I imagine you are Aleksei Voyonov?"
"Your imagination is good," the Dragonborn replied, watching Stephen move a mug that he had set on another table to the one at which they sat. "You also wish to spend the night here."
"I'm not so bad at tavern games as this one," the larger man laughed. "Although I have to say- to start him on daggersale? Cruel, ser, cruel."
"Start?" Aleksei asked, raising his scaly equivalent of an eyebrow.
"Come now, you didn't think you'd be done with the Clan Raibeart in one round, did you?" Stephen raised his hand briefly, then knocked on the table once he'd gotten a barmaid's attention.
The Dragonborn sat back slightly. "You are knowing this place."
"Very well, yes," Stephen admitted, reaching over to tug at Iordyn's neatly tied hair. "But this brother's prayers, a wife, and a child later, I became a bit less familiar."
One of the bar maids came with a full mug, and Stephen pointed to the empty one in front of Aleksei.
"I answer for it- and his room too?"
"He paid already," the weary brunette replied. "Semmite coin, though, so..."
"So you're looking for something you can believe in, eh?" Stephen laughed. "Re-rent the room and keep the money. Off this one, as I hear it, it'll be good, but I'll take his weight off your hands in a bit."
"Thank you kindly, Sir Raibeart," the barmaid replied with a smile.
"She is good friend," Aleksei mused looking at the mug that had been given to him without taking it.
"She was," Stephen replied with a raised eyebrow. "My honest wife changed that."
"Hu-what?" Iordyn asked, just barely able to pick his head up from the table.
"Oh, that's lovely," Stephen laughed. " 'Hu-wha?' You could have told me you were going to challenge a man three or so times your size to a drinking contest; I'd have been your second."
"It is not drinking contest, but it might look this way," Aleksei nodded. "Twice I am drinking, once for my whining and once for his sorrow. It is true that your father is breaking his bow on your back?"
"No, his," Stephen grunted, jabbing a thumb toward Iordyn, who had put his head back down. "First time I saw him take a serious beating, and the only time I let it happen. Surprised he told you."
"I will not speak of it again," Aleksei assured, sitting back from the table entirely.
"I don't take offense," Stephen replied. "So the game is what, that I tell a story and you tell me whether it's sad or not?"
"This is close, yes. If it is true sorrow, then I will drink, and if it is whining, then you will drink."
"Well, take that cup, man; you've at least one more story to listen to before we roll this one home," Stephen nodded, taking a drink from his mug. "Since we're talking about family, I'll tell you how Iona became a death-and-damnation preacher."
"This is middle child, yes?" Aleksei asked, turning his head slightly so that he could use the eye that worked on Iordyn.
"No- don't worry, he'll only go asleep; that's how he handled it the first time, too. Body doesn't know what to do with it, so just knocks him out so he won't try to drink any more of it. He'll wake up without a cloud in his sky, too, mark me. Anyway, Iona was strict and by the book, no questions, no room for error. He was the only one of us that way, too. Aaron and I tended to share girlfriends- they'd start with him, but I'd put paid to her maidenhood- earned myself a whole new meaning to my boyhood moniker that way. We expected that Iona wouldn't like this, but not only did he not like it, he admonished us in the name of every righteous god there was. We used to call him The Preacher because of it- we were joking, but...well, this one winter, Iona takes it up with this beautiful specimen at home- in Marsember, then- while I'm doing apprentice work here in Suzail. He's making like Aaron with the proper courtship, all the whole season long, but when the ice breaks for the spring, I come home. Now, the first time we look at each other- with Iona's delicate little, 'Let me introduce my elder brother,' gods save us all- this little firestarter and I both know right away that we are bad news for each other. But I know Iona won't forgive me like Aaron would, so I don't touch her. I don't speak to her. I go out of my way to avoid her shadow. But unlike Aaron's honest women, this filly goes looking for me. She turns up at the house, hangs around the smithy that took me on for spring work- she suddenly even wants to sit with our family at temple, between me and Iona, even though Ielena or Aaron should be there. Iona reads it like she's spending all this time with the family, thinking she's hanging around so often because she wants to be married."
"I am wanting to drink already for that," Aleksei sighed, shaking his head. "She does not want to marry him at all."
"Exactly," Stephen nodded, tapping the mug that he'd intended for Aleksei toward him. "Aaron comes home from his first tour, but strangely, she completely ignores the uniformed soldier and keeps after the smithy. I last all spring and half the summer, but finally, Iona and our father decide that I'm acting inappropriately toward my future sister-in-law. I tell him to send Iona out of the room, that I have something to confess to him, and Iona refuses to leave, so I try my best to break it to him that the woman he intends to marry is toying with me like she means me to hop over both the bonds of kinship and impending matrimony. And Iona is out of his mind with rage at me. He wants to take me limb from limb. Now, I have a bit of a temper, so I start calling down all the ways that she's putting herself in my way, and I tell him that if he doesn't get his trollop away from me that I'm going to go ahead and give her what she's asking for, and she'll never have need for him again."
"I never heard this," Iordyn interjected, picking his head up for a moment. "Nobody ever told me this."
"Iordi, you were having other issues," Stephen laughed. "You were what, eleven? Something like that- no one would have muddled your head up, telling you this."
"I want to hear it now," the younger Human insisted, sitting up and propping his chin on his hand.
"Alright, well, Iona and our father took to that about as well as could have been expected. Iona suggested that I be sent back to Suzail early, but our father insisted that I be in charge of designing and making the furnishings for the house that Iona intended to buy, which meant that his future wife, who would be in charge of the home making, could practically constantly be in my company. So the next morning, I get all my things, bolt myself into the empty house, and start working. This blasted witch gets into the bolted door somehow, and I break like a storm. I holler at her about how she's acting like she's a bitch in heat, then I sat down right on my anvil and tanned her hide like I was her father. She's just screaming. Two minutes in, I realize she's not screaming because she realizes she's wrong, no- she's screaming because she's enjoying herself. I shove her off, and she starts laughing, saying she was only hanging around Iona while waiting for me. She says she's even going to have me while they're married- this bitch is so sure of my wickedness- and I am on fire. I get up, flip her over the anvil, and give her everything I've got- there, and the floor, and the wall, the bench I was working on, since it could take weight- this girl was no virgin. That tricky bitch knew her way around just like I did, and I let her have it- angriest fuck I ever laid down, I swear it. About split her in half; left bruises."
"You... that's not right," Iordyn managed with a frown.
"No, it's not," Stephen admitted, "but if you're going to listen, then I'm going to tell you the whole ugly truth."
"The truth is good thing; it is the signpost, telling the better way," Aleksei said seriously, toasting his mug slightly in Stephen's direction. "Please to finish this truth."
"Not much left... anyway, how Iona got in the bolted door, I really don't know- but I was still destroying this girl when we both hear this thunder. Actual thunder, like it was going to rain inside the empty house. I pull out, look over my shoulder, and it's him. His eyes were ablaze, like they were on fire in his skull, and his body was glowing. Everything he said sounded like thunder. Couldn't hear a word. Couple minutes in, I notice the girl's completely cold. I turn around, and she's dead. So I wiped off, got up and said, 'Don't touch that bench.' Iona said something else, but I just put my clothes on, walked past him, unbolted the door, and left the house. I went home and up to my room without saying a word to anyone, and I laid into my liquor stash up there like I expected to be hung in an hour. Half hour later, I hear thunder again- I know it's Iona. Everybody else is in a panic- my father starts hollering, my mother's crying, sending everybody else out of the house, and I just come downstairs and say to him, 'What do you want?' I'm drunk out of my skull, mind you. My father is holding my mother away from Iona, and I just stand between them, completely calm. Iona- his eyes and skin are still glowing- starts thundering again, and I said again, 'What do you want? What do you want me to do? The bitch is dead, Iona; she was a dasher, like I told you, and I fucked her to death before you said a word, so actually, I brought the damnation of the gods down on her, and you should thank me for it.' Our parents were struck mute by it. He suddenly stared out into nothingness for a full minute, then walked over to me and hugged me. The fire and glowing left him. I said, 'What did you see?' because even blind drunk, I still knew something serious had happened. He stood back and said, 'Thank you,' without any thunder, he went upstairs, packed his things, and left. By the time I made ready to return to my apprenticeship in Suzail, our father gets a letter from him- he's joined the clerics of Tyr, and is such a powerful preacher and teacher that he was in line to be a knight within months."
Aleksei and Iordyn looked at Stephen, who drank calmly from his mug, for nearly an entire minute in silence.
"That's... a terrible story," Iordyn said at last. "For the woman. You never even told us her name."
Stephen shrugged. "I never used it. So I've forgotten it, now."
"Oh, gods, that's terrible. You don't even know her name," the archer said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "If you fu- um... had relations with her, until she was dead... you ought to at least know her name."
Aleksei thought for a few more moments, then asked, "How are you feeling when you are no longer full of drink?"
"Pfft, guilty," Stephen scoffed. "Here it's Iona's first go at any woman, and not only do I ruin it, I ruin it so spectacularly that he left home at once and took some of the strictest vows of celibacy I've ever heard."
"It's whining, there's no covering that," Iordyn declared. "The only person who can tell this story and not be whining about it is the woman, who's dead. Doesn't even remember her name."
"But you are mentioning that she is not virgin- this is necessary for your people?" Aleksei asked.
"It- no, you're not supposed to," Stephen explained. "You're supposed to marry a virgin, so that you can claim that any and all children are yours."
"I am not understanding," Aleksei admitted. "If she is having children after this, and they are your children, still it is children of your clan. I am not understanding why this is problem."
"But she can't have children anyway, because she's dead," Iordyn argued seriously. "The virtue of her being virgin or not doesn't matter when she's dead."
"It is much confusing me why she is dying, which is why I am asking," Aleksei replied. "If it is because she is already not well, at least she is dying while she is happy, but it does not sound like this is so, for she is not acting as one who is sick acts. If she is dying because Stephen is sending her to the gods by his strength alone, then I am thinking that other women must meet same fate, or perhaps never again is he acting with such anger and power. If it is because of judgement of gods, then I am wondering what of her actions is deserving judgement. Is it because she is not virgin, because she is lying about wishing marriage to Iona, because she is tempting Stephen, because she is mating with Stephen, or because she has no repentance when Iona is speaking to her? And if any of those are so, why is it that Iona is saying 'Thank you' when it is not Stephen destroying her, but the gods?"
All three men sat in silence, considering the options given.
"Stephen destroyed what was standing in the way of Iona's true calling," Iordyn mused at last. "He was hiding behind her, like a child behind a half-wall, and he pulled it down to the ground, and she was seen for what she was, in all directions. That's what the 'thank you' was for, and why Stephen heard no words of judgement. There was nothing for him to hear."
"By the gods, I will drink," Stephen scoffed softly. "Never thought of it like that."
"If one is on a mountain, and another is in a valley, and another is in a tree, and all look at the same fire, they will see three different fires," Aleksei nodded, pouring a bit of his drink into Iordyn's mug. "Lift your mug."
"Clean it and let's go home," Stephen advised, finishing the brew in his mug after he spoke. "I'm not so well-reformed that I can't fall into bad habits in here."
"Now that is experience," Aleksei agreed as he watched Iordyn empty the mug again without making any faces. "We are both taller than he; how will we do this and still leave him honor?"
"Just keep me from crashing into walls or other people," Iordyn answered, blearily resting his face in his hands. "All I want to do is sleep, can you imagine? Is it late?"
And by that time, a grey haired, bespectacled mage had appeared in the doorway, looking about himself with an air of disgust and concern.
"Da," Aleksei sighed with a faint trace of annoyance in his tone. "Now it is late."
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