A/N: Chapter 2 is about another domestic family situation, in this case, an old retired couple who wistfully remember a tragedy of their past and feel it's their duty to run a lighthouse in Britannia.
Chapter 2
Stormcrow
"This was certainly a good dinner, Emilly," complimented Windmire, an old man who ran a lighthouse named Stormcrow.
"I thank thee, my dear," said Emilly, his wife of some forty years. "I always try to do my best for thee, especially considering this wasn't one of my best efforts."
"It was the best mutton I ever had," he said, "And anyway, thou dost always make good food. 'Twas one of the reasons I married thee, remember?"
"I remember," Emilly said, giving her husband a playful look, "Though I hope thou didst do it for other better reasons as well. After all, thou dost still love me dost thou not?"
"But of course," Windmire smiled, "I have always loved thee. 'Twas always my desire to love and please thee. Of course, 'tis also a passion of mine to guide ships to safety in Minoc's harbor ever since…" Here his voice trailed off.
Stormcrow was a lighthouse built southwest of Minoc, the town of Sacrifice, and it guarded Lost Hope Bay, a risky area for ships to sail in during the night. It always made sea travel safe during the night with its light. A small mountain chain was near Stormcrow, and at the southern end was the deadly dungeon Covetous. Many had thought it risky for Windmire and his wife to have a house so close to that infamous dungeon, but since the Words of Power kept the dungeons closed most of the time, Windmire and Emilly felt relatively secure there.
It was also a very simply furnished lighthouse on its first floor. Fogsbane had had a bookcase to keep Jennifer and Jotham entertained during their off-duty waking hours. Emilly and Windmire had no need for books, however, partly because Windmire's reading eyes were not what they used to be, but mostly because the old married couple were usually content to live with each other's company. They didn't feel the need for the sorts of leisure that families with younger members oft did. They were content merely to have some reclining chairs, a little table, a dinner table, a stove and cooking table, and their bed.
Still, even their humble life was not always sunshine and roses. Windmire often was reminded of the reason why he decided to run a lighthouse in the first place. A horrible accident had happened to one of his best friends during his middle age; Scotty, a childhood friend, had been drowned in a sea storm. Windmire swore that he would never allow something like that to happen again, and that was why he built this lighthouse in the first place.
Emilly hesitated for a moment, and then spoke softly to her husband. "I know dear, I know thou dost still miss Scotty. I miss him, too. But I still believe that thou didst not have to give up sailing, necessarily. Thou art a great sailor, perhaps one of the best in Britannia! Why wouldst thou want to give that up completely?"
Windmire looked slightly annoyed as he looked at his wife. ""Emilly, we have been over this before. Thou dost know how important a job it is to protect ships from crashing in Lost Hope Bay and other areas of Britannia where sailing during the night is risky. I don't want other people to lost a loved one the way I lost… Scotty."
"Yes, Windmire, I already knew that," said Emilly patiently, "But my point is, thou didst not necessarily have to give up sailing altogether. It isn't like all people who go sailing are going to end up in a horrible accident."
"I'm not afraid of dying in a storm, Emilly," he said, not so patiently, "And besides, I also want to be there for people who are troubled by the atrocities of that scoundrel Captain Blythe who serves as Minoc's shipwright. My goodness, the man has a heart blacker than gunpowder! He should not be at the helm of Minoc's shipwright business at all, seeing how vile and uncouth a person he is. In fact, he may even be less than human, for all we know. His cruelty sometimes makes me wish I could kill him!"
"Now, don't take out thy frustrations on me, Windmire!" Emilly said firmly, "I am thy wife, and I love thee, but 'tis not an excuse to take out all thy frustrations out on me. If thou dost need to vent thy spleen, why do not thou do it to Captain Blythe himself?"
"Because that monster will not tolerate my presence in his workshop anymore, thou dost know that! He has had it with my complaints, and he said that if I ever bother him again without a truly good reason, he shall have the guard at the front gate arrest me. And that guard works for the tyrant Blackthorn, no less," Windmire almost ranted. "And look at how he, that is, Blythe, treats his employees, like Fenelon and Rew. He could be court-martialed for the way he uses them if Lord British were here."
"Stop it right now, my husband," Emilly said, her voice becoming stern. "Thy mood is one of anger, hate and pride right now, and thou dost know that Pride is an anti-virtue and Hate an anti-principle in this world. And remember, one of the Shadowlords is said to stand for Hate, and we do not want him to come around here, ever. Thou must calm thyself down about Blythe and Scotty and think about something that brings more cheer to thee."
"Like what?" Windmire asked moodily.
"Well, like Shenstone, the proprietor at the Darkwatch Armory in Minoc," she suggested. "Thou hast always thought highly of him."
"Well, yes, Shenstone is known for his fine leather work," admitted Windmire, "And I like the way he keeps his skull keys a secret from almost everybody, including Minoc's chief guard. He is a better person than Blythe any day."
"There, see?" Emilly said, "There are better things to think about, even in these trying times."
"But I do hope that Lord British will return one day," remarked Windmire, "or that the Avatar comes back to help Lord British return. I imagine people like Blythe are prospering because Blackthorn and the Shadowlords are helping or supporting them in their dirty work. It surely would not surprise me."
"That could be true," said his wife, "But Minoc is still a good city, even with Blackthorn's cold influence over it. The Mission of the Helpless still caters to poor beggars and other needy people, and 'tis a good place to rest and recuperate, also. I only wish that something other than Blackthorn's twisted charity paid for it."
"Same here, my wife," Windmire said. "And Minoc also has a good healer, Regina, at The Healer's Mission, who is willing to heal and cure for free if a hurt or sick person does not have the money to pay for it himself."
They both sat back in their chairs and stopped talking for a few moments, realizing their throats were a little tired from so much talking. Just sitting there, enjoying each other's company, was what they most liked to do when they weren't working. Then, Windmire stood up and said, "I am sorry if I was harsh with thee, dear, while talking about my friend and that… captain. Dost thou wish to dance on top of the tower for a little while? Just us, in the evening light; I don't care if sailors see us, just so we can dance for a little before night is upon us."
"Of course, Windmire," Emilly accepted, "And I accept thy apology. Come, let us go."
And with that, they went to the roof and danced in the evening light, as they said they would, occasionally leaning against or kissing each other in a romantic way.
Emilly had always loved Windmire, and more than anything else, it was because of his strong Compassion. Of course his Love wasn't perfect; anyone familiar with his view of Captain Blythe would know that, but he cared enough about people who could suffer the same calamity he and Scotty had suffered that he was determined never to let anyone else to suffer the same fate as his friend. And if he ever slacked off on his job, and a ship crashed and someone perished, he would never forgive himself. That was why he always kept improving his lighthouse and his skills to save ships from destroying themselves.
After dancing for about a half hour, Windmire offered to take the first shift, since he still had a little tenseness in his body and he thought he could let it out better by doing his job than in bed.
"Of course, dear," Emilly kindly agreed, "I shall see thee at midnight."
"Good night, Emilly," Windmire replied.
As she returned to the ladder to go back downstairs, Emilly looked back once. Windmire was leaning out at the precipice of the tower's wall, looking off toward the port of Minoc, and she thought she saw a slight wistful look in his eyes. She knew he would never forget Scotty or his commitment to this lighthouse. She returned to the first floor, cleaned up their supper, and went to bed.
In chapter 3, Sir Arbuthnot and Kenneth the composer adjust to their fugitive life in Greyhaven, while the family who owns the lighthouse has one of their almost routine disputes about the rightness or wrongness of Blackthorn's Laws of Virtue!