Interlude: Business Festivities

Interlude: Business Festivities

The darkness blanketed the land, the stars twinkling above. The gentle music at the business could not calm the Lead’s heart. He stood upon the wall, staring out to the nearby village, illuminated by its celebrations for the end of noonval and the arrival of the harvest season. He closed his eyes, hearing the gentle drumming of Rock Hill instead, his heart thrumming within his chest to that same beat. He could hear the laughter of his youth, the innocence before he became an adventurer, and the hope for when he could return home.

‘Pak’s gone all soft on us,’ she had said back then. ‘Swear he’s changed after meeting some kinda gal.’

Fred opened his eyes, returning to the present. ‘What’s all this I’m thinking about now?’

The young man circled around the walls, going from looking over the village, to the river, to the Iyr’s land, to the river, and then finally back to the village, lost within his thoughts. He stared at the village for a long while, focused on nothing in particular, but also on the most important thought within his mind.

He closed his eyes, finding himself face to face with a particularly confident little girl. Her eyes were narrowed upon him, the girl’s hands behind her back, her shy little brother gazing up at him with such sweet, innocent eyes.

‘Good work?’ she had asked.

‘I’d like to think so.’

‘You are working hard?’

‘Working hard, or hardly working?’

‘Okay,’ the girl replied, nodding her head slowly, not understanding the joke. ‘You have to work hard, because you are Lead, okay?’

Fred’s heart swelled slightly. ‘I will do my best, Little Boss.’

‘I am not Little Boss, I am Demon Load.’

‘...’

‘You understand?’

‘Yes, Little Boss.’

She had raised her brows as though daring him to pick a fight with her. She inhaled deeply, shaking her head as though she were an old grandfather disappointed by the youth of the day, before she sauntered off.

‘So smelly, so smelly.’ As the girl sauntered off, the boy had turned back towards the Lead, and smiled, waving at him, before following his sister to go and bother other workers.

Fred and Jonn had caught one another’s eyes, and nodded, before the half elf stalked the children, making sure they didn’t get into trouble.

Fred opened his eyes once more, staring at the village where it had happened. A flash of Jonn’s face appeared to him, the farmer letting out a small sigh. ‘Damn.’

“You are thinking so deeply,” called a voice, causing Fred’s hair to stand on end, his heart beating rapidly. She had short black hair, a pair of scars across her face, and was well built, wider than even the typical Iyrman. The greatsword upon her back was slightly too large, not that Fred would say such a thing to her.

“Aye,” Fred replied, followed by a long moment of silence. “Haytam, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I heard that... the children, Adam’s children, they’re... Iyrmen?”

“Okay,” Haytam replied.

‘Okay?’ Fred thought, though he had no courage to look at her. “They’re... your nieces and nephews?”

“Their granduncle is my uncle,” Haytam confirmed.

“Acting Director Gorot?”

“Yes. He is my mother’s elder brother.”

‘Gorot?’ Fred thought about how many times he had met the Iyrmen. Other than brief greetings, and condolences from the Iyrman, they hadn’t talked much. ‘Is he a somebody in the Iyr?’

“Will you go?”

“Go?”

‘Bael, if you’re that smart, you should-,’

‘Oh, did you hear that? I think I need to go beat up someone.’

‘Who will you beat up today?’

‘Hmm. Pops, what’s that turtle’s name?’

‘Which turtle?’

‘The one in the Lower Realm.’

‘I don’t really remember many of their names.’

‘Yoopina?’

‘Urkina?’

‘Yeah, that old drake. I’ll be back in a year or two, ‘kay?’

‘Okay,’ the old man had said, allowing Bael to leave. It was a few weeks later when the old man realised Bael wasn’t allowed to head to the Lower Realms.

Bael smiled wide, recalling the memories, of how much stress he caused his father. ‘I wonder if he’s figured out if I’ve left yet, or is Aina bothering him?’

Bael glanced out towards the village once more, his smile slowly fading. He stood up, feeling the chill run through him deeper. As the melancholy struck him, he hopped off the wall, and walked around the perimeter of the fort, every so often glancing back to the village, imaging the scene. He knew exactly where it happened too.

He stared at the scene, where it had happened, his eyes glazed over as the scene repeated itself before him within his thoughts.

“Oogoo,” the boy called, clutching at his father’s shirt.

Nobby glanced down towards Merry, meeting the boy’s eyes, which remained unfocused for a moment, before they caught his gaze. The baby smiled shyly, giggling lightly, before hacking. Nobby reached over to tickle the boy’s nose, causing him to sneeze. ‘...’

It was late in the night when the hushed voices filled the corner of the business.

“This is ridiculous!” Harriet whispered angrily. “Why do you have to go?”

“I have go,” Rick replied, as though it were that simple.

“You don’t! You’re not a Manager, this has nothing to do with you.”

“It’s expected of me.”

“So what?”

“So I have to go.”

“Why you? Greg can go!”

“Harriet,” Rick said, his voice lowering, his brows raising.

“What? It just makes the most sense! We have four children, and he doesn’t even have a wife!”

“Whatever happens, I have to be the one to go,” Rick stated, his voice carefully firm. “It’ll be fine.”

“Fine? Fine? Are you crazy? Has the Lord of Chaos meddled with your mind? You’re talking about going to fight the Orders! The Orders, Rick! Are you a damn fool? The Orders of all things!”

Rick reached out to hold the woman’s shoulders, staring deep into her eyes. “When I get back, let’s take a month off, together, just you and I.”

Harriet slapped her husband’s chest and grabbed his collar, before the pair embraced, Harriet burying her head into his chest. ‘You damn fool, Rick!’

Rick knew it in his heart. He had to go. If he didn’t, what would Lady Elaveil do to him and his family? Since he had received so much from the half elf, he needed to repay the debt. ‘I’m sorry, Ri.’



This... isn't a cult, is it?