“You’re an imbecile of the lowest kind, Horus DuPont!” shouted Cornelius Farrow of the Lyceum Thaumaturgia. The head of the Arcane Artifact research section, Cornelius Anaiah’s overseer and mentor. Dispatching her quickest messenger, Lady DuPont sent for him after Anaiah entered his harrowing. It’d taken less than a day for Cornelius’s response, in the late afternoon a crack of blue light and a portal opening up out of nowhere in the landing gave the servants a fright, and her poor page having never traveled by way of magic, had been sick the instant he’d stepped over the threshold into the house. Nevertheless Laurel’s gratitude for his presence outstripped the ensuing shouting match after Cornelius surveyed Anaiah’s bismuth pyramid. “Aren’t you generals supposed to have a basic understanding of these objects before you go clapping them on your mages?” he fumed, standing at the base of the bismuth pyramid neath the cherry tree with Lord DuPont and his indignant scowl. Though a head shorter than Lord DuPont he carried himself the way a larger man would. Cornelius’s grey tunic taut about his tense shoulders with arms crossed over his barrel chest tapped his index finger as he awaited DuPont’s further explanation.
“What’s to understand? I’ve led hundreds of mages into battle and not a single one of them found fault with the process. I’ve seen unharrowed mages go into the ritual. In the end it’s all the same, they come out harrowed and prepared for battle as they should be.” Cornelius’s mouth twitched, sweat trailing down from his salt and pepper mane.
“And tell me, does any of that sound like Anaiah?” He pressed. Horus growled and led them away from the bismuth structure to the manor’s back door.
“He’ll learn.” Horus answered in defiance.
“If your son doesn’t die he’ll never be the same; you won’t get back the boy you threw to the wolves!”
“Maybe he’ll be better for it, he isn’t a boy anymore!” Lord DuPont snapped. “He jumps at his own shadow, can’t manage simple tasks required of him as a representative of this house, has no real employment to speak of beyond those few insipid little digs, and wastes all his time with his face in yards of parchment without a single thought to his duty as a son to this family. At twenty two years old it’s disgraceful! I’ve been a soldier in the emperor’s army since I was sixteen and shirked no responsibility. I wasn’t allowed to fritter away my time with fantasies of adventure, we had a war to win and I quickly had a family to provide for. My father wouldn’t have allowed for a son who dreams his time away.” Cornelius didn’t spare Lord DuPont empathy.
“Correct me if I’m wrong but, won’t Khloe be heir to your house? She is the eldest, after all.” Horus scoffed.
“It’ll be Adalie at this point. With Khloe’s lack of responsibility or the gravity of what she’ll inherit it’ll be a wonder if she could scrub dishes and do so to instruction.” Cornelius hefted a sigh.
“As interesting as all this is,” Cornelius mocked. “I don’t have much care for your grievances. My only concern is saving Anaiah from whatever fate you’ve sealed him to. You took his volition away in this matter and that unsettles me more than the intricacies of your family history.” Cornelius finished, running a nervous hand over his beard. Etta approached from the back door and gave a bow.
“There is a young man at the front calling for Anaiah. He says it’s important, m’lords.” “Very well, see him in.” Lord DuPont growled. She disappeared back into the house and returned moments later with a straw haired mage in a faded blue tunic. Horus bristled. “Martin.” He said with ill-concealed distaste. Martin ducked his head, his specs sliding down his nose.
“My lord.” The mage bowed.
“Why have you come?” Cornelius asked before Horus could bark something rude.
“I need to apologize first, to you Lord DuPont.” Martin didn’t lift his head and kept his eyes downcast. “It were my fault what happened. I shouldn’t’ve given an ill word of my master to one of my betters.” He started, his apology practiced. “I’ve done wrong to implicate Lord Anaiah in my upsets and I’ve come to apologize to him as well.” Martin’s hands clasped tight against his lap as he maintained his bow.
“I can appreciate a man who admits his wrongdoing,” Lord DuPont said with scorn in his voice. “Even if that man is a mage.” Martin winced. Cornelius shot Horus a dirty look the lord returned in kind.
“Why don’t we all go inside to talk about it?” Cornelius pushed, eyes still locked on Lord DuPont. “Or is there some reason we, outside, would not be allowed to go inside, Horus?” Horus tightened his jaw and glanced up. A figure from a tale of woe the lady DuPont watched from the tall window in the second floor study, a ghost figure glowering down with folded arms and a grudge.
“May I please convey my apology to Lord Anaiah?” Cornelius sighed.
“Will you explain it, Horus, or shall I?” he pressed.
Khloe and Lia returned from their fishing expedition, a satchel stuffed with apples and a sack bloated with fish, Barkus trailing along behind them whining at the catch. Khloe sighed at the sight of her father having words with two other men.
“Well, those are mages.” Khloe’s flat tone belied her disinterest.
“How can you tell?” Lia squinted at them.
“It’s hotter than hell and they’re both wearing long sleeves. Nothing says ‘shut-in’ like long sleeves.” Lia snickered before gaping and casting her eyes down to her feet.
“Oh dear.” She said as if she expected admonition. Khloe noted that her father hadn’t bothered with a shirt. She scoffed.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s proud of himself; he probably counts his scars in the mirror before bed to make sure they’re all still there.” Khloe joked.
“I’m not supposed to gawk, milady.” Khloe batted her hand.
“He’ll never admit it, but he loves it.” Lia smiled but didn’t raise her head.
She led Khloe back to the shed and replaced the fishing pole.
“Okay!” Lia chirped. “Now I’m going to show you how to clean these largies!” Khloe made a face.
“I like eating fish, I don’t want to see their guts.” She complained.
“If you don’t get over it-”
“You don’t eat, yeah, yeah.” Khloe felt the ick bubbling in her stomach. Barkus padded over to his bowl and distracted himself with the water. Lia led Khloe into the kitchen where the other servants were already at work readying dinner.
“Seems we’re to have guests.” Etta said to Lia.
“Aye mum. I’ll get right to work on these fish. I’ve an assistant today.” Etta, sweat beading on her brow, gave a brief smile.
“Good, the bread is made and the vegetables are on. Get cracking.” Lia brought the fish to the sink and Khloe joined her with sloth-like enthusiasm.
“It is possible to fillet a fish without getting your hands in the guts. I’ll show you how to do it so we don’t put off your appetite.” Khloe exhaled, relieved.
“Thanks Lia. Don’t know if you could guess but, I don’t do guts so great.” She giggled. Lia grabbed a long thin knife from the rack above the sink and made incisions behind the bass’s gills.
“It’s very simple, watch.” Minding her fingers she cut along the spine down to the tail. Khloe winced at the blood, though much to her surprise there was very little. “Then you dig your thumb in here and keep cutting along this line.” She lifted the meat from the bass’s ribs and continued cutting until the meat was separated. “See? No guts, I’ll do the same with the other side. Plus, we’ve even got a little reward for Barkus.” She laughed, turning the cut over in her hand; she made an incision at the tail, plopped the fish down on the cutting board and separated the skin from the meat with a careful hand. She tossed the skin into a bowl on the floor reserved for their loyal companion. Lia guided Khloe whose skin crawled at feeling up the squishy meat and the slimy scales. In the time it took for her to fillet a single fish, Lia managed all the others. Khloe experienced a modicum of accomplishment when she finished her bass.
“As a reward for you, milady, I say you should go upstairs and get yourself into some clean clothes.” Lia smiled. Khloe, thrilled to be given the go-ahead, skipped her way out from the kitchen and up to her room.
Once she opened her door she gaped. Her armoire, vanity, and trunk all shuffled away into storage along with her decorations and anything else her father deemed a luxury, austere conical chamber now bare bones with only the bed in its center. On the bed was a single roll of parchment. Khloe went to it and pried it open. Everything set according to her father’s will. The parchment detailed that, in a week, she’d take a carriage to the capital to become faceless member of a guard’s post she had no interest in. Father chose your profession for you after all. She thought with a bitter taste in her mouth, shoulders sagging as her arms dropped to her side. This is your damn fault like always. She thought at Anaiah, she watched the small bismuth pyramid from out her window as it pulsed with light beneath the cherry tree.
Whenever something happens to you, the whole world is upended. If I walked to the capital today and never came back, who would notice? Khloe blinked away the thought, aware how pathetic it would sound if she’d said it out loud. Of course I’d be noticed if I went missing. Father needs someone to be angry with all the time. Moments when she had self-deprecating thoughts, she took solace that no one but herself would ever know them.
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