"Give me your wrist."
Agronak softly shook his head, resigning himself to another one of her miniature lessons, watching as Cerisse rubbed the finger-crushed leaf onto his skin. "And what does this one do? Make me fly? Turn me green?"
Clucking with disapproval, she pressed his wrist up towards his nose. "Now you're being silly. It smells nice." It did, a surprisingly warm, spicy scent. Giving him a smile with a hint of smugness, she scampered off towards a clump of gorse, the wind trying to brush out her thin braids and lift up her muddy skirts.
The change in her was remarkable in its subtlety. She would always be something wild in his eyes, a mysterious little nymph who danced for the moons and spoke to the plants, but now she was his nymph, which made all the difference. Where she used to distance herself, skittish as a young foal, now all of her flitting brought her right back to him. During their return journey through the swamp and woods, she'd behaved like a tame hawk, hunting out little treasures of the forest—succulent berries, strangely coloured snails, scented leaves—to share with him.
Sometimes she'd grasp his hand, tugging him further into her realm, trying to teach him a little bit of nature magic, or share a happy discovery. And if ever he tugged back, pulling her toward him, she'd come to him with such enthusiasm she almost knocked the wind out of him with her embrace.
She muttered at the bushes, trying to coax out a few early berries to supplement their foraged meals. The strange purple fruit with no name had been both breakfast and lunch, surprisingly satisfying and perfectly suited to the languid hours they'd spent in the grove, enjoying each other's company in so many pleasant ways.
It was unusual how well he got along with her. In the past, he'd found women tended to fall into one of four categories—stranger, enemy, friend, or lover. Of the latter two, it was either one or the other, never a blend of both. Friends were the women he could share an ale and a story with, the ones he could talk to easily. Lovers were a different breed, their conversations full of coded messages about what he would need to do, buy, or say, to earn his reward.
Except Cerisse wasn't like that. Never had she demanded a piece of jewelry, a trophy from battle, or the recitation of a sonnet. The only thing she seemed to want from him, was him. It was incredibly different, and shockingly relaxing. Maybe romance didn't have to be filled with drama, fights, and tears.
Or maybe she just hadn't decided what to ask for yet.
She returned triumphant, generously bestowing smiles and berries on him. He leaned down a little, trying to make it easier for her to feed him the fruits of her labours. She had other plans, snatching a kiss in between juice filled bites.
A lumpy rock, vaguely carrot shaped, sat in stony obstinacy as it held two young saplings apart. He recognized it, having seen it a few times during their trips through the forest. "The house is just over there, isn't it?" he asked, pointing to the side.
She nudged his arm a bit, adjusting his aim, and nodded. "Yes. Now remember, we can't let anyone know, suspect, or even joke about us. It's too dangerous."
"So I couldn't do...this?" He grabbed her, lifting her up so her muddy feet dangled above the ground.
"No," she answered, taking advantage of her newfound altitude to plant a kiss on his forehead.
"Or this?" Ever so gently, he nibbled on that sensitive spot of hers, hidden below the neck, right above the collarbone.
"Definitely...not." The reply gasped its way out in between distracted breaths.
His line of inquiry into other forbidden activities halted when he heard something running through the forest, snapping twigs and kicking up leaves. He placed Cerisse down so fast she spun, stumbling a bit before regaining her balance.
"What is it?" The tense question came as a whisper over his shoulder.
"Amaraldane," he chuckled, sheathing the sword he'd drawn in anticipation of an attack.
"At least they're living up to their name," she joked. The sleek Dar, followed by the sedate Morag, gave them a few excited yips of welcome. "Who are you heralding today, puppies?"
It turned out to be Gondyn, fighting off clutching twigs and sticky pollen. He was shouting for the dogs, muttering dark oaths in between at the overly friendly plants. Finding the hounds with Cerisse, he gave them a bemused grin. "Remembered where you buried her, did you?" He glanced over at Agronak, gaze traveling up from the muddy bare feet, over the soggy shoes tied to his belt, to the berry stained shirt. "And you managed to dig him up too? Dar, where did you find a place to make an Orc sized hole?"
"Dyn, what are you doing out here?" Cerisse asked as she waved for the hounds to follow her. "Did the cries of the carrots drive you away?"
"Funny," he replied dryly, "but no. I thought I'd do a little hunting."
"With no bow?" Agronak asked.
"Don't need one when you're trying to flush out a courier. We've been infested with them all day. Only direction they haven't attacked is from the rear, so I figured I'd try and head them off. Blast!" An ancient nettle, having waited through the damp fall, frigid winter, and gales of spring, finally launched into battle, sending a series of spikes into the man's thigh as he walked past. He bent over and yanked them out with a few softly muttered curses. Tossing the offending barbs away, he suddenly shouted over to Agronak. "Wait, stop! Don't step..."
Freezing in place, Agronak looked over the ground, trying to spot the danger. All he saw were dull rocks, muddy patches, and young plants. Glancing back at Gondyn, he found the Breton giving him a very odd look.
"...there. Hmm." His brow crinkled, like his sister's did whenever she thought too hard. "Lift your left foot up for me, would you?"
Doing as asked, Agronak stepped back, surprised to find he'd been standing on a nasty looking nettle. It hadn't hurt a bit.
Gondyn shook his head, letting out an amused sigh, before waving away Agronak's unspoken questions. He briskly jogged to catch up with his sister, where he held a low conversation with her. "Reesy, what did you do to him?"
"Dyn, I didn't do anything," she protested in a snippy tone, "that's his magic."
"Shamans can't do that," Gondyn replied, glancing back to watch Agronak picking his way along behind them, paying a bit more attention to what he stepped on. "You witchified him, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't," she huffed. "Besides, you can't just 'witchify' people. It doesn't work like that."
Gondyn's voice dropped to a whisper, the words barely audible over the sound of crunching twigs and panting dogs. "Reesy, you really should try to be less...well, witchy around men. If you hope to ever get married—ow!" His advice was cut off when a branch, being held out of the way by Cerisse, suddenly slipped from her hand to smack him across the forehead.
"Sorry, Dyn," she said, not looking at all contrite. Without a pause she continued walking towards the edge of the forest, leading the hounds along.
"Completely crazy," Gondyn muttered darkly to Agronak as he rubbed away the sting with a small healing spell. "If she doesn't watch it, she's going to end up one of those mad old hags living alone in the middle of a swamp." He waved brightly at his sister, who'd already reached the field, and now waited impatiently for them to catch up. "Damnedest thing is, I think she might like that."
Agronak chuckled at Gondyn's dire predictions, amused by both how accurate and yet off target they were. Stepping out of the shaded woods, he felt a flood of sunshine instantly warm him, product of another beautiful spring day.
"Dyn, you mentioned couriers," Cerisse spoke while tossing a stick far afield for the hounds. "Who did they come for?"
Her brother arched his eyebrow and regarded her a little suspiciously. "You have to ask?" Seeing her plain look of confusion, he shrugged. "Apparently you do. I thought you'd orchestrated this so you'd be out when they arrived. Let's see, first one came for our resident barefoot lord."
"Me?" A wave of excitement ran through Agronak – this might finally be it.
Gondyn nodded. "All the way from Warfort. Poor fellow, Papa managed to trap him in his study for an hour and a half. I don't think we'll be seeing many more Khajiiti couriers around here for a while."
Cerisse laughed at that. "Spoke Ta'agra, did he? Well, at least Papa got some practice." Turning to Agronak, she explained away his eager anticipation. "It's probably from Choctam. His business is based in Warfort."
"You said the first one was for me," Agronak stated firmly, refusing to let go of his hope so soon. "And the second?"
Gondyn sighed heavily before answering. "For me. And Reesy. We got a visit from the Hawkton family curse."
"Oh, Goddess' mercy, he isn't still there, is he?" She froze in the middle of the field, looking as if she would bolt right back into the woods.
"No," Dyn grumbled, "but he was in the entranceway for over an hour. Even Mama ran out of small talk to make with him. I've never seen her speechless before."
"Who managed that?" Agronak asked. He couldn't imagine Evie silent – it was like trying to picture the sun in the middle of the night sky.
"Journeyman Bierles," Gondyn replied tartly. "Mordy's fault, of course. When that bastard brother of mine gets back..."
"He's an Evoker now," Cerisse interrupted. "And it's all your fault, Dyn. I hope you haven't forgotten that."
"Me? Like I was supposed to let Mordy get away with that trick he pulled during the Warrior's Festival?" With wounded pride, the man pressed his hand to his chest in a profession of innocence. "I can't believe you'd say such a horrible thing against your own brother."
"Mordy's my brother too," she protested. Looking over to Agronak, she explained Gondyn's role in it all. "Dyn decided it'd be amusing to use Eduard's bad habit to try and annoy Mordistyr."
"I only sent him a note," Gondyn cut in, "just a friendly note from one brother to another."
"Care of the Mages Guild," Cerisse continued. "With some nonsense about a treasure map, and how Dyn's research led him to believe only someone who understood Nymph would be able to translate it."
"That fool speaks Nymph?" Agronak asked blankly.
"He thinks he does," Gondyn answered with a mischievous wink.
"Eduard spent an entire summer trying to talk Mordistyr into letting him have a peek at the map, without actually asking about the map..." Cerisse elaborated, stepping with annoyance over the field.
"Since he's not supposed to read the notes," Agronak guessed.
"Right," she nodded. "Finally Mordistyr found out why Eduard was following him everywhere, so he sent a note back."
"That wasn't a note," Gondyn protested, brushing off a stubborn patch of pollen from his sleeve, "that was a dirty trick."
"It implied Dyn had the map." Cerisse sighed, giving her brother a dark look. "Because of Dyn's clever idea, Apprentice Bierles showed up at our doorstep, having chosen to hand deliver the message rather than send it."
"How was I supposed to know he'd do that?" A well-chewed stick prodded Gondyn's thigh, Dar's method of distraction. Wrenching it away from the energetic hound, he tossed it far into the field. "Though he's been so amusing since, especially with that little idea of his..."
"It's not funny!" she snapped. Whirling to Agronak, she pointed at her brother and expounded on his sins. "Because of this jekosiit, Eduard's trying to marry into the family in hopes of getting a look at that damned map! It doesn't even exist!"
Despite her insistence it wasn't humourous, Gondyn chuckled delightedly at her fury. "Do you remember when he thought Lyrrya liked poppies?" He elaborated to Agronak. "Every time she went to Chesterbrugh he'd give her a plant. Not a bouquet, but a potted plant. She's got a whole garden of them in Anticlere."
"Then when Carolyrrya got married, he went after Gwynyssa," Cerisse tartly continued. "She did not find it amusing."
"Oh, Wynny was already in love," Gondyn dismissed Cerisse's accusations with an airy wave. "She didn't even notice him."
"And now it's you, isn't it?" Agronak asked her, earning a bitter nod in response. "At least Ria's safe..."
"Ri Ri's brilliant," Gondyn quickly exclaimed, bringing his hands together in a loud clap as he summoned the hounds back. "She's the one who finally saved us from him."
Cerisse glared at her brother, curiosity warring with annoyance. Finally, she grudgingly spoke to him. "What was it today?"
"He's terrified of getting sick," the young man explained to Agronak, "so Ri Ri always pretends to have something. She came lurching out of the library, dragging her foot, asking Mama if she might have gotten collywobbles." Gondyn laughed at the memory, lightly slapping Agronak on the arm in shared amusement. "You should've seen him—he bounced off the doorframe as he ran right out of the house!"
Agronak chuckled at the thought, until he noticed Cerisse's grumpy expression. "Is he also after your money?" he asked. The chatting had brought them to the gardens at the back of the house, and to his surprise he found the gravel paths comfortable to walk on, more so than when he wore shoes. In between steps, he noticed a small hint of rippling in the air above the ground before he put his foot down. His fae at work.
"No," she sighed, "that would be easier to handle. He thinks he'll be famous if he uses our nonexistent map to find the armour of the giants, or was it mudcrabs..." she mused with distaste.
"Malaburokaran," Gondyn corrected, his eyebrows wiggling a bit. He dropped his voice and leaned closer to Agronak. "It's Ayliedic. He's obviously never looked up the meaning."
"Dyn, you're terrible." With quick and strategic strikes, Cerisse took her brother by surprise, tickling his sides. "Completely incorrigible."
He whirled out of range with a yelp, keeping a wary distance from her. "Behave, Reesy, or I might send you a note next time you're in Chesterbrugh. Thanks to Mordy, he thinks I'm the one who's got the map again. Maybe it's time I had a sister take a look at it..."
"Do that, and I really will have you turned into a rat," she warned, her voice deadly serious. Gondyn noticed the heavy undercurrents in it, his amused smile fading under her glare. "Already because of you I can't safely send a message when in Chesterbrugh. Do you know how much I have to spend on couriers?"
"Yes, you send the bill to my company every year," he answered with merry amusement.
"And you refuse to pay it every year," she grumbled. "I should ask Papa if he found out that Khajiit's rates. Maybe it's lower than the service I use."
"There was that third courier who came round," Gondyn added, still staying safely out of reach of her nimble fingers. "But I don't think he's available for hire. Gortwog's messengers tend to be very loyal..."
"Gortwog?" Agronak asked quickly.
Gondyn nodded, giving him a curious look. "You got a message from Orsinium. Has the green seal and everything. I think Papa would've liked to invite him in for a chat too, but even with his obsession he knows better than to interfere with King Gortwog's people. It's no surprise he's written to you, since you're..." he trailed off, ducking his head down behind a hedge. Still hunched over, he began walking backwards, towards a gap in the bushes. "I, uh, just remembered there was something I needed to do. I'll see you at dinner."
"Leave him," Cerisse said, shaking her head at her brother's antics. She quickly whispered at Agronak as they resumed the journey back to the house. "Say nothing now. We'll discuss it later."
Exhilaration pumped through his veins as he walked beside her, mind travelling through so many long-imagined scenarios. Finally, he had a chance to act. Granted, it wasn't very much of a role, but it was so important. He felt more than ready for it.
His daydreams barely got a chance to form before they were interrupted with the bright greeting of Evie, out enjoying the sunshine with her sketchbook. She abandoned her charcoal and walked over to them, words flowing as freely as the breeze. "There you two are! We were wondering if you'd be back for dinner. It's so good of you to be looking after Reesy for us, she's always wandering off."
"She doesn't need much—" he began to say, before Evie noticed the state of his clothes.
"Reesy!" Evie suddenly cut in, "Did you take him through the swamps? Honestly, child, why do you keep going there? It's so slimy and dirty and filled with all sorts of nasty things. I keep worrying you'll be bitten by a snake. Yes, I know you say there aren't any, but just because you can't see them doesn't mean they don't exist. And with you always refusing to wear your shoes, it drives me to distraction." She turned to Agronak, apologizing for her daughter's wild behaviour. "Really, Alabyval and I have tried so hard to raise her to behave properly. Oh, of course we're proud of her and her magic, but I just wish she'd be a bit more ladylike in her habits. She can be ever so charming when she wants to."
"I'm sure she can—"
But he couldn't get a full sentence out, Evie having discovered the shoes tied to his belt when he turned to point at Cerisse. She began scolding her daughter. "Did you make him take his shoes off? Reesy, you know better than that. He might be working for you, but you can't order him to behave like a savage. He's a lord, for Dibella's sake! This isn't like you."
"He took them off himself, Mama," Cerisse quickly protested, meekly letting her mother lead her back to the house with a firm grip on her arm.
"Not to say it's completely uncivilized," Evie hastily said, changing her clutching grasp on Cerisse's forearm to soothing pats as she offered Agronak a charming smile. "When I was a girl I used to love running barefoot through the clover. A time and place for everything, right?" She lowered her voice, conspiratorially talking to him as she continued to guide them through the back door, into the kitchen. "But don't be afraid to disagree with her, even if she's your employer. Though I'm sure I don't need to tell you how to be assertive. You must have learned so much about that sort of thing in the Arena. Why, the stories you must have to tell! Maybe you can share a few with us at dinner."
Evie patted his shoulder, pushing him firmly towards the hall. "But you'll want to freshen up first, won't you? I shouldn't delay you any longer." Her hands suddenly leaped off him, grabbing onto the shoulders of her daughter as she tried to sneak by. "Everything you need should be in your room, but if it isn't, simply ask Cata to take care of you."
"I need to wash up too," Cerisse said gently, trying to extricate herself from her mother's grasp. However, her arguments failed to sway Evie's intentions. As Agronak made his way to the stairwell, he could hear her coaxing her daughter back into the kitchen.
"Come along Reesy, darling, let's have a little girl talk," Evie soothed. "We haven't had a good one in ages. That mage fellow of yours came by today..."
"He's not my mage, Mama!" Cerisse's horrified protest carried out clearly down the hallway.
Agronak paused, leaning over the railing, trying to hear a bit more of the conversation. When the sound of a door handle turning reached him, he pulled back, attempting to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. Ria tentatively poked her head out from the library, warily glancing in the direction of the kitchen, before catching sight of him on the stairs. They shared a moment of amusement at Cerisse's plight before she quietly closed the door and he headed off to his room.
In the presence of ever blooming roses, he quickly washed and dressed, eager to get back downstairs to collect his messages. It was only as he laced up his tunic, fingers weaving over the dark mark on his chest, did he pause for a moment. It looked like a bruise, but it wasn't a bruise at all...
With a harsh exhalation he pulled himself from the happy remembrances of his wild little nymph to the moment at hand. If the letter was from Gortwog, then he'd have plenty of opportunity to be alone with her soon enough. In the meantime, he had to focus, and make sure to keep his distance from her. Maybe he should tell Evie just how generously Eduard had offered his services to Cerisse, to help confuse the scent. Of course, if he did that, maybe it wouldn't matter if he was alone with Cerisse or not—she'd be too busy trying to turn him into a rat to let him near her.
Tucking his tunic in, he could hear the faint sounds of knocking at the front door, muffled voices floating up from the hall. Probably one of the field hands reporting in, or perhaps a servant returning from an errand. He paid it no mind, too busy trying to remember what Cerisse had told him of the journey to Orsinium while he buckled his belt. Just a couple more days, and then he'd be standing in Gortwog's court, the very homeland of the Orcs...
The mournful scream, wrenching in its intensity, shocked him out of his thoughts. Grabbing his sword from its spot leaning against his dresser, Agronak ran out the door, hurtling down the stairs. The intense sobs and hasty tread of footsteps spurred him on. Close enough to the bottom of the steps, seeing nothing in the entranceway, he vaulted over the banister to land heavily on the floor, braced for battle.
But he quickly saw it was a situation where a sword was of no more help than a magician's spellbook. He dropped the point of it, careful to keep it away from anything in the crowded space, and stepped back, feeling infuriatingly useless.
Ria wailed inconsolably, despite the best efforts of her mother and her sister to soothe her. She clutched a letter in her hands, crumpled tightly as she waved it around, incoherent cries about 'it's over' and 'he's leaving' hinting at its contents. Cerisse gave Agronak a grim nod as she passed by, helping Evie guide Ria into the nearest room, towards a comfortable settee.
It was finally Evie who managed to get the note from Ria's clutches, gently tugging it away as her daughter sobbed into her shoulder. She stiffened when she read it, before beginning a continuous stream of soft words in a fruitless attempt to make Ria feel better.
Alabyval, summoned from the sanctuary of his study by the unusual noise, limped quickly into the room, demanding to know what had happened. Cerisse, face dark from her quick scan of the note, brought it over to him with a whisper. She didn't wait for its return, instead immediately heading back to sit beside Ria and stroke her hair while murmuring words of comfort.
As Ria turned to her sister, clutching her with the desperation of a drowning woman while loosing out a dramatic pronouncement that she wished she could die, Agronak watched her father's reaction to the stunning words. His face betrayed his emotions, the red flush of anger spotting his cheeks, the pinched expression as he looked at his heartbroken daughter showing his pain at her plight, and his frustration at being unable to fix it.
He let the parchment drop onto a stack of books, not stopping it when it slipped off to fall gracelessly to the floor. Catching Agronak's eye, Alabyval jerked his head towards the door, indicating they should leave the women to their work, the mending of hearts and drying of tears better performed by soft hearts and delicate hands.
The click of his cane against the wooden floors was more pronounced than usual, each rap an explosion of noise as he slammed it into the ground. Everything about him appeared stiff, from his limp to his posture to his lips, set in a bitter line of anger. It wasn't until they reached his study, on the other side of the manor, did he finally break his silence.
"I thought he was many things, but never a coward." The pronouncement was bitter, Alabyval's voice smoky with disappointment. He stepped to his desk, moving aside some books to find the notes buried underneath.
"What happened?" Agronak asked, too distracted by Ria's unhappiness to register more than faint recognition at the green sealing wax holding one of the envelopes closed.
"Everard," Alabyval growled the name as a curse. "Got a promotion off to Jehanna. Leaves Morndas. He didn't even have the courage to tell her himself."
"It doesn't mean it has to end," Agronak offered, trying somehow to help, to make the situation better. "She could go visit him. Or go with him."
"Then he should have asked," Alabyval replied tersely, stamping his cane in front of him impatiently. With a heavy sigh, he leaned both hands on top of it, staring hard at Agronak. "It's funny," he said, with the bitter air of a man who didn't find it funny at all, "I can tell you the origins of the words, and when they were first written down, but I've never understand what they're talking about. It's everywhere from Ta'agra to Ayleidic, all these poems talking about the many forms of love. All rot, I say. Either you're in love, or you're not. How is it that difficult?"
He shifted his weight onto his good leg, grimacing a bit as he muttered out an Orcish verb. "You understand the verb, 'to be,' in Orcish, don't you? It's not passive like Common, but powerful, almost elemental. You don't need an adjective when you use it. In Orcish, a mountain is. An ocean is. The best poem I've ever read about love was written by Atulg gro-Burbug. Two perfect words. Love is." Squeezing his eyes shut, he suddenly turned his face away, dismissing Agronak with a raspy voice. "You'll have to excuse me."
As Agronak shut the door to the study, he stared down at the emblem of Orsinium pressed into the brilliant green wax—orcish green, the same colour as his sword. His long awaited summons was finally here, and he found himself torn with conflicting desires. Part of him wanted to hurry, to continue on with his mission; part of him wanted to get as far away as he could from the pain trapped in the walls of this happy family home; part of him wanted to stay, to somehow make things better even if only by being here, perhaps his presence making the inhabitants he'd come to regard as friends a bit happier; and part of him, a very tiny part of him, wondered if he wouldn't have been better off leaving long ago, before Chesterbrugh, before he'd known anything, when he'd been offered the chance to go. Because somewhere, deep down, buried beneath the chaos of his conflicting thoughts and the Hawkton's absorbed emotions, he was starting to worry.
It had nothing to do with Orsinium, and the heavy matters awaiting him there.