“YORIIIIIIIIIIIIC!”

- - - -

A crisp morning breeze met the boys as they walked toward Raina’s office. The chill was accentuated by the water Mama had thrown in their faces whilst they ignored her yells. Chills, sounds, and lights were all exaggerated by yet another hangover. Yoric and Abe had gone to Raina’s office after finishing up with Morrison. No jobs had been available.

Abe had suggested that they go and get a drink. They had gone and gotten a drink. Many, to be honest. Too many, in fact.

They had started at Dainty’s, made their merry way to Jenny’s, and ended at Shanty’s.

“Did we bring Raina home, or did she bring us home?” Abe asked, a groan following the question. The sun was beaming over Theralyn despite the chill. The Massif was one of the northernmost provinces in the Kingdom of Mithrock, with only Nya Norr and the panhandle of the Prairie above it. They were too far to the North and too close to Wintertide for the sun to do much in their favor.

Elfden is half over. Tolden and Wintertide will be here soon. A new year is upon us.

“Yoric?”

“Sorry. I was just thinking about the passing months.”

“Valora on your mind then?”

“Huh?”

“She was last night, at least. You called the Solrusian serving wench by her name.”

Did I? The thought of him standing there, drink in hand, and ogling Trinity made him cringe in discomfort. Calling her Valora was even worse. I’ll need to apologize.

“So?” Abe was waiting for an answer.

“Of course she’s on my mind. Few days go by where I don’t think of her.” How could he not? They’d been tied at the hip from a young age. They’d trained together. They’d comforted one another through sickness, through sadness, through the toughest of times. All had thought they would wed once both were of age. Even Yoric had figured as such, and he thought that she had felt the same.

It had been a year and a half since she left.

Not a word had been said. Things had been going better than Yoric ever could imagine. They had been reaching all sorts of little milestones in their relationship; things that young folks keep track of when they had not yet wed, had children, or bought a home to share as a family.

Milestones had not kept him by her side. Whilst the history between individuals can be so long and thorough that it feels tangible, one can not use it to hold them together.

Yoric had gone to her hold outside of the Waterfront. He had been turned away by her guards on her word. He did not fight her wishes. He could not. He had loved Valora too much for that. He still did.

They kept on walking down Theralyn’s stone roads. Abraham normally accepted Yoric’s bouts of silent pondering. This was not one of those times.

Only a few blocks lay between them and the office when Abe spoke up.

“You can talk about it with me, you know.”

“I know.”

You don’t really act like it,” he whispered. “Valora didn’t just hurt you. You avoid the conversation every time I try to talk about it. That doesn’t seem like someone who knows they can open up to me.” Though Abe was quiet, it was obvious that he wanted to yell a bit. Yoric knew that Valora’s exit from their lives still pained Abe. How could it not? They had all been friends from the age of eight. Abe loved her too. Differently, of course, but there was a great affection for her in his heart.

Abe might be ready to talk about it. Abe might need to talk about it.

Yoric was not ready. He could not talk about it.

“Being able to speak of it does not mean that I want to. If you’ve the need to get the words out, if you need someone to hear what you’ve to say, then go to therapy. I can send word to Ilya.” Arlox affirmatively cawed from the air above them. Yoric did not look up in order to see his partner, but he could feel the bird’s presence as he coasted in the air.

Abe angrily breathed in as though he were about to dress Yoric down in the middle of the city. He thought better of it, producing an exasperated sigh rather than a slew of insults or whatever he had prepared.

“For what it is worth, I am sorry that I won’t talk about her.” He couldn’t go there yet. Who knew where the conversation would go? What if Abe were to say that she wasn’t going to come back? Yoric needed to believe that she would. She had been his rock. She had asked him to let her. The burden was not fair, for his both her past and mind were messes, but she had told him it was okay. After the bears. After Bianca. After his training. After his therapy. After their treatment in Regalia.

After everything; it had been Valora he’d believed when she said all was well.

“One day, my friend. We’ll talk about it once she is back. We’ll put it past us.”

“It could be ages!”

“Better than never.”

“Talking with you makes my head hurt worse than any drink.”

“I have a solution for that.”

“Another drink?”

“Aye.”

“Not in your wildest dreams, boys,” Raina stated as she exited her office. She closed the door slowly, as the sounds from the resulting slam would surely make the collective pounding in their heads worse.

“You’ve a job for us then?” Abe replied. A job would be nice. Anything to distract them from their drinking, which in itself was just a distraction from a great many things.

“In a way,” she replied curtly.

“In a way?” Yoric asked. “We either have a job or we don’t, yes?”

Raina rolled her eyes. “Odd jobs. You’ve done a fine job of drinking around, partying till you can’t stand like a right pair of misfits. The Guild wants you to spend some time with the people today. Work with them.”

“And by you, you mean all three of us?” Abe asked.

“Aye, because the Mother cursed me to live in a town where I’ve nothing to do but work and spend time with you two.”

“You love us,” Yoric replied. “You’ve an itinerary then?”

“Of course I do. I’m not some shitty, run-of-the-mill clerk. Just a shitty drunk.” She pulled out two pieces of parchment, both having the schedule for the day written in ink, and handed one to each of the boys. “Have you lads eaten breakfast?”

“No,” they both replied in unison.

Abe elaborated. “Audrey said she wasn’t wasting good eggs on lazy louts like us.”

Raina looked a tad apologetic for a moment, her eyes growing wide and showing just a hint of sadness. It was gone in a moment. “That’s a tad harsh.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Aye, but we need harsh,” Yoric replied. “Else we’ll just end up in our cups every night.”

“We do anyway,” said Raina.

Yoric smiled at the comment as he turned around and began walking in a direction that would lead to their gastronomic happiness. “She could be harsher then. To Anna’s? We’ve hardly began to enjoy our life of free baked goods. It’d be wrong to not let her show some proper appreciation.”

Abe scowled. “Was her tearful thanks not enough?”

“Ask my stomach.”

- - - -

This is too hard. I’m a fighter of monsters. A glossary of facts about the supernatural. I’m not made to watch kids. I’m not.

The child, easily less than two years of age, would not stop crying. The squeals of sadness had begun right when the baby had woken. The mother, whose name Yoric could not remember, needed to go to the market. Her husband was in the lumber yard and was oft too tired to do much on his way home, but the child would cry whenever they were out in public. She had explained that balancing the consolation of her child and the obtaining of groceries had been a futile, frustrating endeavor. Raina was incredible about finding individuals who needed some form of help. Thus, babysitting had been the second stop of the day. The first had been Anna’s. The quick bread had been to die for.

The child, on the other hand, was not to die for. The child made Yoric wonder why protecting the public was in his best interest. The child was napping at first. That had been simple. Rock the cradle gently. Say nothing. Just let the motion help the child maintain its state of rest.

The child had woken. The child had not stopped crying.

Yoric had tried everything he can think of. The child had spit out some of the quick bread he had saved. It did not care for any of his knife tricks. Peek-a-boo had proven to be a sham of a solution. Arlox was too big and spooked the toddler. Yoric had even held the child, thrown his long Sosin knife in the air, Blinked, switched places with the knife, and allowed the kid to fall through the air with him until he switched with a different knife. This had seemed to make things worse.

The stunt forced Raina, who had been content to watch Yoric struggle, to give in to her greater sense of motherhood. As he walked into the wooden lodge she stood up, the skirt of her gray dress flowing behind her as she angrily walked over to him. Without a half of a thought, Yoric found himself holding the child out to her.

“You don’t just take a child for a free fall, Yoric,” she whispered, rocking the child in her arms as it rested its head on her shoulder. The baby was now wailing as opposed to sobbing. She spoke softly for the sake of the baby. “It might be calming to you, but any disruption of the norm will do no good for a child. Especially a free fall. Think of the ears, Yoric.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I am.” He felt a bit shameful. Working with kids did not come to him easily.

“Ah Yori, I know you are,” she said, still rocking the child. The wailing was subsiding a bit. Whimpers could be heard, but not much more. “Lads without much of a childhood struggle with the young; especially toddlers. Everyone struggles with toddlers.” Whimpers turned to snores as the child fell asleep. “It was good of you to try, though.”

Yoric was befuddled. “Why have me try when you can calm the child so easily?”

“You’ll be a father one day. You need the practice, and you need to keep whispering.”

Returning to a whisper, he replied, “And Abe does not?”

“Abe is napping, and Abe will never be a father.”

“Abe loves women more than anyone I know.”

“Aye, but there’s a difference between a father and a biological parent. Do you ever see him slowing down for anything?”

Yoric thought on that as he watched Raina. Her waist-length brown hair was done in a lengthy, intricate braid. It swung from side to side as she swayed with the child in her arms. Each sway was a bit slower than the last until she stood still. Snores continued as she placed the baby back into a white crib.

Would Abe slow down? He seemed to enjoy the split life of the huntsman and the thief. Their jobs paid well while allowing him to express his disdain for Mithrocki nobility. Would that coin, that utter defiance, sustain him later in life? Would Abe slow down, leave all of this behind, and start a family? Would he see the beauty in such a thing?

Would Yoric? He would for Valora. Could anyone else really fill that void?

“I’m not sure, Raina. I don’t even know if I’ll ever slow down.”

“The fact that you’re considering the option means you’re years closer to it than he.”

“You make it sound like such a bad thing. We live an enjoyable life.”

“Aye, it is fun. You two are a good time. It’s charming while you’re young. When you’re fifty, single, and stealing jewels from some son of whoever you’re stealing from now, will you feel satisfied? When you’re lonely, sleeping in a tavern, and all those drinks you paid for have not bought you any friends, will you feel like your time in this world was well spent?”

“You’re feeling rather philosophical today. Rather sentimental.”

“Children do that; especially to those of us who didn’t have a childhood.”

Yoric nodded. Raina’s blue eyes held a certain sorrow within; an anguish normally possessed by those who mourned parents they had never really known.

- - - -

“I saw you cut through the nape of two different mountain toads! Lumber shouldn’t be nothing!” Jiringar, the so-called “Lord of the Northern Yard” was a man of great size, age, and bulk. His white beard ran down to the middle of his chest; equally aged hair ran down his back. Arms similar to those of gorillas were exposed, hairs slicked with sweat from a morning of arduous work. An axe, held so naturally it may as well be another limb, sat in his hands. The Arc-Wood handle was massive, allowing the tool to stand up to Yoric’s forehead when planted into the ground. The metal reflected pink, a sign that the metal had been Arc-Forged, or forged by Arcanists. The tool had likely cost a minor fortune for a laborer. Arc-Forged tools hit harder, didn’t lose their edge, and cut through most objects like butter.

Yoric’s Sosin knife was Arc-Forged. Throwing knives did not cut through wood very well. A plain Sosin knife, a weapon with a thin hilt as well as a forearm length blade, would only be dulled if it struck the logs with any force. His hammer, made of good steel, would just shatter the logs.

The axe Yoric had borrowed was better than what he had brought with him, though not by much. His Prominence Kova had enhanced his strength and stamina for a time. His Aegis Kova had provided a protective layer of blue Spirit to his hands. Two hours had passed since coming to the yard. Plenty of firewood had been cut, or so he felt. The midday sun hung over them, and the manual labor brought each worker to a sweat despite the afternoon chill. There were about twenty others in the yard today. Mostly men, some women. All of them worked away whilst Yoric prepared to complain.

“My Kova can’t last longer than a couple of hours, Jiringar. Give me your axe.”

“Huh?! This is my axe, lad. I don’t even let my lumberers use it! You shouldn’t have front-loaded your Kova.”

“Do the workers not?”

“Lad, only two of them can use Prominence. None use Aegis. Not all of us grew up fighting the beasts of the realm. Bert, c’mere!” Jiringar gestured to one of his workers, waving his axe around with improbable strength for a man his age.

Always goes back to my upbringing.

Bert was similar in build to Jiringar. Similar to most of the lumberers, really. Though he was of greater height and youth, the differences ended there. Bertram was Jiringar’s son, the “Heir to the Northern Yard,” and he’d worked in the as a lumberer as long as Yoric had lived in Theralyn.

Lumberers in Theralyn usually kept to themselves. Their days began in the earliest bits of the dusk and ran until the night started creeping its way into the far horizon. Their lives were ever so slightly off-schedule with the rest of Theralyn and their routines reflected as such. Lumberers spent time with other lumberers, married other lumberers, taught their children to be lumberers, and drank with other lumberers. In the city, one could even find taverns who specifically catered to the schedules of the woodworkers. Dinner and harder drinks from these establishments were served a bit earlier in the day. Last call occurred at the New hour rather than the First or the Second.

While lumberers seemed to be shrouded in mystery to most, Yoric knew a few truths. They were lightweights. Paying for their tabs was much easier on the pockets than the usual degenerates Yoric spent his time with. They were easy to befriend, for they understood that having friends who were different than you was a good time. Finally, with their most exclusive quality, they would not even attempt understand how someone could be an incompetent woodsman. Such a thing was baffling to them; just as the idea of someone cutting wood from dusk till dawn was befuddling to Yoric.

“Alright, Bert. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Where his father’s voice was a tad raspy with age, Bert’s boomed with a deep bass. “It’s more about what you aren’t doing wrong, Yoric. You’re strong. Your wood is cut straight.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Bert’s eyes averting Yoric’s.

“And?”

“Well, that’s all.”

All of them laughed. They spoke of Kova and how the two wood workers who could use it would do so once they were physically exhausted. Their form was excellent, according to Jiringar and Bertram, and that meant they wasted less energy. That explanation made sense to Yoric. It was the same as a fight. One could take extra steps without thinking about it or swing a hammer in a much wider arc than necessary. Very few fights were decided by which of the combatants was stronger. Strength was a measure of one’s martial capabilities, but it was just one measure. Agility, form, and battle sense all did just as much if not more for someone who possessed them.

The workers were about to help Yoric work on his form when he sensed Arlox nearing. Sure enough, the black bird landed before him with unmatched grace, a piece of paper in his mouth. A note. Yoric reached for it, plucking it from Arlox’s mouth. It was only slightly crumpled.

“Wish I could get me a bird like that,” said Bert.

“Head to the Talonport to take one for yourself. I’m sure they’d appreciate it,” Yoric replied with a chuckle. He knew from the hand that the letter was from Raina.

A real job. Clurichaun in the city. Come to Dory’s in the Ward. Quickly now.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Yoric said as he shoved the letter in his pocket. “Job in the Ward.”

“Another time then, lad,” replied Jiringar as Yoric handed him the borrowed axe. “Another time.”

Yoric had not heard him. An unchecked Clurichaun could fall into a Blood Rage, tearing down innocent people in its wake. His Prominence Kova, despite its heavy use on the day, was activated as he ran toward the Sad Ward with an enhanced speed.