V2 C162
Gods, I'm so stupid. How'd I never notice? Or – no, did I just not want to think about it? That doesn't matter, right?
I was free to roam about again, but given my rather unorganized mental state, I found myself gravitating back to the shop of a particular meddler.
And here I thought Peter would be around to make passes at me.
I loosely plucked at the guitar string in hand, avoiding the few immature worries that I should be thankful for, given what I could be saddled with instead. With the choice between adolescent drama and adventuring, versus the prospect of war or an incursion of otherworldly horrors, the former seemed like a comparable fantasy.
“I'm just at odds with whether I'm ready to accept that part of this.”
I looked up at the shop walls; instrument components and various woodworking tools littered the relatively lifeless shop.
It really doesn't make sense for Peter to be so well-suited to instrument-making, yet continue tolive like this. Caring for his siblings must really hamper the work more than he lets on.
I wandered back to reality with my thoughts.
I still can't believe I did that to Beryl. They thought it was funny that I essentially misled her with the flower-
“No.”
I pushed the wandering thought away.
“Just because I accept what my life is now, doesn't mean I can just waste my youth like that anymore.”
I looked at the guitar again, my thumb pushing on its lowest string.
I am different from them, so I need to be responsible.
A pang of regret embedded itself for a moment.
I know I feel something, I understand that… but that takes a back seat. It’s… somehow… off. Besides, who else can make sure they’re prepared to survive what I’ve seen?
Clack-clckclk
“Ah!”
Wooden dowels and stock material slapped against cobblestone flooring.
“Oh… Peter won't – I didn't mean to break that!”
A little boy, some four or five suns – at most six by earth years – slowly backed himself into an open door.
Ah, that must be one of his siblings.
I paused, doing my best to emulate my mother's maternal smile.
“I didn't think Peter would leave one of his lil'uns running the shop. Is he offplaying the fool somewhere?”
The boy seemed to shrink somewhat as I spoke, unsure of my presence.
“Peter says the shop is closed, so no'ne should be coming around.”
He seemed on guard, distrusting.
I'll have to dig my knuckles into Peter's skull for leaving his little brother unattended, it seems.
“Well, if you ask me, I think Peter should be here to look after you.”
I crossed my arms, the guitar settling in my lap.
“I think I oughta tell him some stuff about taking care of lil'uns!”
I whipped my tail behind me, exaggerating the movement and tone whilst pursing my lips. Seemed to do well for the atmosphere, given the child snickered. Looking back, it just seemed like he was staring past me. It was clear that he saw what I did, but it just wasn't me that he saw.
“Mama used to talk like that.”
That’s right, they’re orphans. One of the first things I’d learned about Peter, taking the place of their parents not soon after their passing.
“What’s your name?”
I asked softly.
“Andrej.”
He spoke quietly, safe but still unsure as he hugged the doorway.
“It's okay, Andrej, I'm Peter’s friend. Is he here? Can I talk to him?”
He looked at the guitar in my lap as I spoke, seemingly coming to a decision as he did. A nod and a wave of the hand followed soon after.
“He's got a bunch more friends in the cellar. They're talking about something.”
He trotted to a wooden door, hinges creaking as it opened.
“C'mon!”
“C’mon Peter, we’re not askin ya tah just leave fore’v! We need this! When’s the last time any ofs ya haven't had to worry about our next meal? For Tyr’s sake, you were a luthier! You go’n start pickin trash with’us! Why? Cause some stuck up noble something or other won’t peddle the goods he brown nosed your old man fer when ya can make’em the same!”
Cecilia, a hare demi-human pleaded over the table. Of all the urchins gathered in that room, Peter, by far, seemed out of place. He was first roped in with them not long after his parents passed, desperation driving him to theft and foraging. Being the only relatively clean-cut person in the group, he was their face in town. He spoke to merchants, processed transactions and trade, and handled disputes. He was the last semblance of structure they had before devolving into the same further rabble within the city walls amongst refugees and the poor of Brenton.
“Cecilia, anything could happen if we leave these walls.”
Peter clicked his tongue, staring at his now cold bowl of lentil porridge.
“Do you really still name-drop the god of those stuck-up elves, too? Hard to believe you’ve had a change of heart after one fight with them.”
Cecilia grimaced, unable to go further.
“Cannae blame’em.”
Cecilia grumbled as she stirred her own bowl, a disagreement at the group’s core roiled but never enough to throw the room into a cauldron of shouts.
“We’ve all heard the rumor mill. House wives’n such, bakers, field workers, adventuring. The rumors of that old bat in charge o’the guild?”
A separate voice, a boy of sixteen or so.
“We all know it, ya even see the older spear-ears come and go from the guild and merchant halls a little more ornery lately. Think those rumors are true? Why else would the guild start running a bread line?”
Cecilia spoke up.
“We’re all pissed that no one in this city seems to care’bout the poor, aye? But we do the same, aye? Julias, yer still fighting with the boys along the northern wall! We all keep to our groups, o’course the elves would too.”
Peter shook his head.
“None of the elves in this city were ever as bad off as us, but for the old Tree of a guildmistress to pay out of her purse to keep working families fed right now? And only elves? They’re all her seeds, no other way.”’
Another voice.
“Every single elf in town, descendant from her?”
And another.
“Does anyone even know how old she is?”
Peter ran a hand through his hair as he slammed another on the table they all sat around.
“That isn’t why we’re even here! We all complain about the breadlines coming few and far between from the lord! We’re eating a hearty enough meal for once, can’t we use it to actually think up a plan?”
Everyone in the room shifted awkwardly, spoons resting in empty bowls, while everyone looked between each other in search of who would broach the suggestion. Cecilia sighed, pushing her own bowl aside.
“We take the open contract for escort by the guild. They’ve been addin’ more open team tickets by the day, and lower’n the grade requirement. It's good money, and our savins from winter’ill hold over the lil’uns while we’re gone.”
Peter’s eyes widened as the eldest girl of the group spoke.
“Are you kidding- no, no! Absolutely not! What if someone gets hurt?! The pay hasn't gone down with the grade for a reason!”
Peter was exhausted, same as the others; every single person present, numbering just over a dozen, was desperate. Their coin wouldn't last all winter, and resorting to their last measure was looking worse and worse. Three of their number, the eldest amongst them, still sat beneath the keep for over a month now for thievery. They were robbed of the bodies needed to prepare their loosely cobbled together band for winter. The Lamia, Captain Sophia, now leading the security of the city’s outer walls and outskirts, was wrenching her grip down on crime with significant push from the lords.
“They had to try robbing a noble, it’s a surprise they haven't already been hanged for burglary.”
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose before dropping his arms to his side.
“Maybe they saw pity?”
One of the younger boys in the group, a sun younger than Kiyomi by time, spoke.
“Will, when was the last time you knew nobles to be so forgiving?”
A knock at the door spooked all present, a slow push open revealing their small interloper.
“Bubby?”
“Andrej? I thought you were sleepy, didn't you want to nap with Iskra?”
Any semblance of Peter’s earlier stress melted away as he moved to dote on the interloper that peaked his head through the door. It was his little brother, Andrej. The youngest of the three siblings, Andrej was supposed to be napping with their sister.
“Mhmm, but there’s a girl with horns in the yard. She wanted to say hi.”
Peter tilted his head, surprised at a visit at this time, given she only ever came around when the shop was open.
“Oh, don’ tel us you went an roped in a demi-human girl? You’ll go an dash muh hopes ah courtin’ you, you know.”
Cecilia teased, her ears laying themselves flat to the side as she smirked. Peter waved her comment aside as his eyes rolled. With the chiming in of further whispers, Andrej slowly realized how many more people were in the basement. Faces familiar and unfamiliar alike made him slink away out of shyness.
“Bubby isn't in trouble?”
Peter placed a hand upon Andrej’s head, ruffling the young boy’s hair as he sighed.
“It’s fine baby brother, we’re just all talking about going to work for a month or two.”
Andrej’s face twisted at the news, the boy unwilling to part with his brother. Peter’s words were taken at face value from experience.
“Easy, baby brother, we’ll be leaving a few behind to look after you all. Cecilia’s sister will look out for you all while we’re gone.”
Andrej looked past Peter, at the rabbit girl.
“Bunny lady?”
Peter nodded.
“Her sister helped bake bread the last few months, remember? She made you the sweet loaf in the spring.”
The boy looked down, stomach growling from the memory, prying a smirk from Peter.
“I have a bowl of Lentils there that I can’t stomach right now. Think you can finish it for me while ‘Bunny lady’ looks out for you?”
Cecelia pointed a thumb at herself, not believing Peter genuinely asked her to look after him. By the time she realized it was no request, she was halfway through rolling her eyes as Andrej did his best to climb across the bench at the table’s side.
“I’ll be back in a while, just finish the lunch. I can’t let this one go unattended.”
Peter let the thought wonder within his own head.
Not with the rumors about her flying about either.
“Ya? So it’s over, right? You wouldn't be talking with me so casually if it weren't."Peter said in a matter of fact tone, using a wood carving tool to pick something from his nails.
“You’ve got your parents for real this time. They’re together, aren't you glad to have a pa?”
Peter quipped, trying to make light of the irony that a child of a whole home came to an orphan for peace of mind. I was simply glad that he took the gesture of coming to him sincerely, it seemed he was forced into a bit more maturity than I thought.
“Somewhat, though it replaced some questions with others. I have to go to Francia soon, and it’s poor timing enough. I have no choice but to go through.”
