PART IV - NEGOTIATIONS

Thorn cleared his throat, choosing not to apologize; not to be put on the defensive, and to simply move forward. To apologize now would spite her even more by bringing it up again. “Of course. I have come to petition for full parental guardianship of Nevikk.”

If she was surprised, the Kerr’s face showed nothing, remaining stiff and unchanged. Then, narrowing her eyes, she seemed to peer into the Ratkin before her. Thorn wasn’t sure if she was using a skill, perhaps Truthseeking or the like, or simply trying to make her own non-magical evaluation. Thorn didn’t resist, allowing whatever was happening to conclude. He wasn’t lying, and in his opinion, his motives were pure.

“Tell me why.”

He’d been ready for this question. In fact, it was an answer he had practiced multiple times. “We will not be living in any of the capital cities. From a practical standpoint, I need the authority as his second parent to make decisions on his behalf until he is of age. Trying to petition your son, should it be needed in those circumstances, would simply be impractical. However, even beyond that, I have grown to love the boy as if he was my own, just as I love his mother. I wish the three of us to be a family.”

There was another heavy silence in the room as the Kerr continued to peer judgmentally into Thorn. At least she hadn’t said no outright, or simply had Thorn thrown out the manor’s front door … or the second-story window behind her for that matter. At least not yet.

“If I may be so bold,” Thorn said, continuing to press his case, “but neither your son, nor you, have shown any interest in Nevikk or Ravina. It’s not something that Nevikk hasn’t noticed. Unlike the other children, he knows he has no father in his life. He’s not old enough to really understand why, but he is aware of the absence and asks about it.”

“What if he develops Ohler’s? If he does, you don’t get to dump him back here. He will be your problem.”

“Kerr Sylbane, I am a trained Martialist, and am blessed with several meditative and mindfulness perks. I have shared some of this with Ravina, and she has found them of great value as an addition to the medications. Should Nevikk ultimately bear the curse of the Father Moon, then my hope is that I may teach him the same ways to moderate and cope with the effects, in addition to assuring he understands the criticality of the medicinal discipline.”

“A Martialist? That’s quite rare. What tier?”

It was generally considered rude to ask someone their class and tier, at least outright, when you didn’t know them, but Thorn wasn’t surprised by the direct question. Candor was obviously the best response. “Platinum, Kerr Sylbane.”

The Kerr raised an eyebrow, glancing again at her steward. They passed another knowing look of some kind, likely having previously discussed his impressions of Thorn before she agreed to the meeting. Thorn was curious what his assessment might have been. Sylbane stood, turning to walk a few steps towards the window, her body fading to silhouette against the bright sunshine outside.

“I do have it,” she finally said, still gazing out the window, quiet and almost sounding reluctant. “It’s a terrible, terrible affliction I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Aymon’s father didn’t have it, and I had hoped our child would have been spared my torment.” She turned, looking back at the Major, who was quietly standing at attention. “Thankfully, I’m beginning to age out of it, and my worm helps temper the extremes as well. Perhaps in a couple of decades I’ll even be able to end the medication regimen. Aymon has many years ahead of him, as does Ravina.”

Thorn wasn’t sure what he should say, and almost descended into platitudes of sympathy. He stopped himself and simply said, “It is regretful.” There wasn’t much else that could really be said. Sylbane returned the weakest of forlorn smiles in acknowledgement. An overbearing stillness flooded the room, nobody sure what to do or say next.

“Why did you come to me, Major?” the Kerr eventually asked, “as opposed to going to my son? He’s Nevikk’s father.”

“It seemed more-proper to approach you first, as the head of your noble house. As for your son, I’m afraid I do not hold him in high regard. While my perspective is certainly biased, I am not sure such a meeting would have gone well, at least not without you as part of it.”

“My son is a boor and a brat,” Sylbane said flatly. “He’s cruel, a gambler, a philanderer, and my single greatest shame. I don’t know how much of it is his Ohler’s, and how much is my failures as a mother. I can only hope he grows out of being the … ass … that he is right now.”

“You didn’t spank him often enough as a child, Madam,” the steward said, his first words spoken since introductions. “He will need to reach bottom before he can begin to climb out again.”

“I might recommend time in the Cillisine Army,” Thorn suggested, instinctively trying to be helpful. “It can do wonders for those with … uh … discipline issues.”

“We tried. They wouldn’t take him,” the steward said flatly.

“No, they wouldn’t,” the Kerr added, her face actually twisting in a smirk. She looked at Thorn, seeming to make one last round of judging him, before finally saying, “I’m going to grant your request, Major Tandis. You shall have full parental guardianship over Nevikk, and my son will relinquish his. However, I do have some stipulations.”

Thorn’s heart had leapt with relief upon hearing the first part, then stilled with worry at the second. He wasn’t terribly surprised that his victory wouldn’t come without concessions, and hoped they weren’t onerous. “Of course,” was all he could say in response.

“First, the support stipend I have been providing Ravina for housing and living essentials will end. Nevikk will no longer be my son's responsibility, and thus, with that goes the support the boy and his mother would be due.”

He had expected this to happen, and he and Ravina had agreed not to object. It wasn’t an insignificant amount of assistance, enough to cover all her basic needs. But they’d be away from the city, on their own land. They could make it work.

“Second, while I cannot legally take his title away from him, Nevikk, through your agreement to these terms, relinquishes his inheritance rights. This includes rights to station. He wouldn’t inherit anything for … at least a hundred years anyways.”

That stipulation was a surprise. Thorn knew the law in Cillisant treated hereditary titles as an inviolate right, even for children born out of wedlock, or in Nevikk’s case, also publicly unacknowledged. He hadn’t even considered inheritance rights or station, and didn’t like having to make that decision for his son-to-be. It may end up having to be the price to pay, though.

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“Third, and Ravina must agree to this as well, you are the primary custodial parent. Should something happen, Ohler’s madness taking her or the end of your marriage for example, Nevikk remains with you.”

“But she’s his mother!” Thorn said, defensively.

“Yes, and you will be his father! At least in all ways but blood,” Kerr Sylbane said slowly, as if carefully reminding Thorn what he was signing up for. “You are the more-responsible of the two of you, and you know it.”

“I … I would have to discuss that with Ravina,” Thorn sputtered, still trying to take in the Kerr’s demand. The logical back of his mind quickly pointed out that Sylbane was right. He was taking on all parental responsibilities, and would legally be Nevikk’s father. Any magistrate would give him custody based on Ravina’s Ohler’s alone, if it needed to be done. As a parent, he really couldn’t object. He knew Ravina would.

“That’s it,” Sylbane said quickly, as if verbally agreeing to simply wash her hands of her grandson. “Those are my stipulations. If you can agree to them, both of you, then I will have Aymon agree to relinquish his rights? What say you?”

“Your …” Thorn began, still stumbling in his head. “Your third requirement is troubling. I could only agree to it in principle, without discussion with Ravina.”

“Understandable. You inform me what the two of you decide.” Sylbane walked out from behind the desk, extending a hand to Thorn, the Imorian custom. They clasped their wrists, sealing the preliminary deal as if he was simply buying a new korrox. Suddenly, just like that, it was done, at least pending Ravina’s agreement. “I presume you brought a Testament?”

“I … yes I did, Kerr Sylbane,” Thorn said.

“Good, it saves me from drafting one. Give it to me!”

Taking out the second leather letter sleeve, Thorn handed it over to the Kerr. As she walked back to take a position behind her desk, she broke the seal, unfolding the two identical pages and beginning to look them over.

Sylbane held in her hand a Testimonial of Negotiation, or two identical ones, actually. It was a semi-legal document that was more of a record than anything. It effectively noted that a conversation took place, the date, the topic, and whether or not a preliminary agreement was made. Nobody was bound by the contents, but both parties would end up with proof that a good-faith negotiation had occurred and what the topic was, so nobody could claim later they had no idea what anyone was talking about. They were used quite frequently in Cillisant, particularly for property, magical artifacts, or other high-value negotiations, although in Imoria a verbal agreement and a clasping of wrists was usually sufficient. Imoria tended not to be big on formality.

Sylbane took up an actual fountain pen from a desk drawer, before proceeding to mark both pages. Thorn had already filled in the date and topic, although using a traditional quill to write with, so the Kerr simply needed to mark a box indicating a preliminary agreement had been reached, and then add her signature. She removed a block-stamp from the same drawer, adding her house crest to each, next to her signature. She offered the pen to Thorn. “Come sign,” she ordered. She pointed, “Right there.” He signed. The steward, who had also come to the desk, signed next as a witness.

“Get the two downstairs to sign these before he leaves,” Sylbane ordered. Then turning to Thorn, she said, “I will have formal documents created and couriered over by a contract witness. They will be pre-signed by my son and myself. If you have concerns on the language, or feel something is not as we discussed, notate that and send it back. We’ll find words we all can agree on.” There was a very strongly implied ‘you better not do that unless it’s something serious’ tone to that statement, however.

“Understood,” Thorn said with a nod as the steward took up the pen and two pages.

“Good! I believe we have concluded, Major Tandis. Congratulations on your newfound fatherhood. I wish you and Nevikk well. I don’t believe we will meet again. Good day.”

He knew a firm dismissal when he heard one, and Thorn took two steps back from the desk, coming to attention and placing his hand to his chest as he had done in greeting. “Thank you for your valuable time, Kerr Sylbane. I, too, wish you well.” He turned and began walking towards the door, the steward behind and to his right.

“Do you know why I hate Ravina?” the Kerr called out.

Thorn stopped in mid-step and slowly turned.

“She purposely got pregnant, purposely removed her yogosi, to attempt to trap my son into marriage. She tried to entrap my house and to entrap me at the same time. I cannot abide that kind of … attack!”

For the very briefest of moments Thorn considered letting the statement go unanswered. He knew he should let it go, in his head he knew it. But this … this bitch had just insulted his almost-wife and son-to-be, and done it with lies on top of that. He almost let her have it. He almost stormed back to get into her face. Sure, she'd probably strike him down with a spell of some kind, and this steward guy probably was something special, too, but Thorn was sure he’d probably get at least one good punch in. Then, Nevikk’s face flashed into his mind. That of an innocent boy in green playing in a sandbox the first day they’d met at the park, when he’d returned Ravina’s favor. Thorn took a deep breath to calm himself.

Still, he had to say something, to at least set the record straight.

“For what it’s worth, Kerr Sylbane, to hear Ravina’s side, it was your son’s idea. He was convinced you’d never accept him marrying a simple tavern girl, and suggested the pregnancy as a way to force your hand. When you found out, he concocted a lie, resting the blame on Ravina entirely in order to stay in your good graces.”

There was suddenly an ominous silence in the room as grandmother and father-to-be locked eyes. Thorn was doing all he could not to show the seething anger that was boiling inside of him; doing all he could not to leap across the room and let the Elf have it. He focused inwardly for a moment, forcing the fury aside and trying to find some thread of tranquility to hang on to. He had to soothe this moment over, or it could risk everything. Now absolutely sure that Sylbane was using a Truthseeking on him, and had done it before, he couldn’t let his anger cloud what she may find.

“You believe this to be true,” she said, somewhat distantly, as if she was considering she’d been lied to all these years.

“Perhaps the real truth is somewhere in the middle,” Thorn said with a slightly-patronizing sigh, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps it was just the Fugue-foolish choices of two young people in love. I don’t know, and honestly I don’t care, nor does it really matter, in fact. All I do care about is the three of us happily living out our lives together, and doing the best I can to raise a good boy.” He let that statement hang, smiled slightly, turned, and began to walk again.

“Major Tandis,” Kerr Sylbane called out just as he reached the door.

Thorn turned without speaking, again forcing down the instinct to correct his name. He didn’t want to say anything more. There was still a bitterness inside lingering to scream, and he just wanted to get the hell out of this place.

“When he comes of age, I will gift your son … I will gift my grandson … a Symbiote to match his class. If he has Ohler’s, it will help control the extremes of madness. If he is lucky enough not to be so afflicted, then all the better. This will be my one and only gift to him, and I’ll have it written into the documents. I leave you to raise him well. Good day.” The Elf spun and left the room through a side door just as quickly and gracefully as she had first entered, and for the merest spec of a moment, Thorn saw her reach to wipe at her eye before she was out of sight.

Thorn’s head reeled as the steward led him back downstairs. Not just at everything that had happened over the past several minutes, but that last statement. A Symbiote? Truly? If Sylbane did as she promised, that could be life changing for Nevikk, doubly-so if he had Ohler’s and it would help regulate it. A Symbiote was worth … well it was worth more money than he’d ever see as a middling Army officer! And if by some quirk of fate, Nevikk ended up with an Advanced class like his, and the Kerr still held to her promise, that worm was worth a small fortune!

They returned to Reynard and Jorin, and the two had surprisingly managed to not break anything in the fifteen or twenty minutes Thorn had been gone. They both sighed with relief as their friend offered a simple nod to show it was done and had gone well. They signed the Testaments where pointed, before the three were led back to the main door, Thorn keeping one copy. Jorin grabbed the last of the cookies on the way out, shoving them into his pockets.

“So, you’re going to be a father, Thorn,” Reynard said in almost-disbelief, hugging his friend with one arm as the three stared blinking at the late-afternoon sun. “Congratulations, my friend.”

“Now, just don’t fuck it up,” Jorin added, grinning with helpful encouragement.