“So, is this a recent interest, or have you always had the fingers for sewing and weaving?” Lord Brewbrt asks as he leans back into his chair to take a sip from his glass. His wetted lips move away with a clicking pop. Shifting my focus away from the fireplace, I adjust my position so I can enjoy the chair’s cushioning. All so I can smile back at him.
“It’s a long going one. Mother taught me at first as part of my upbringing. However...” I start to answer, only to linger at the shift of reminisce to justification. I know it isn’t the case now, but I know that once upon a time I saw it as nothing more than a part of the boring stuff of my childhood. Yet, in the time since I left Eusorochii, my want to do it has only grown as it’s one of the few things I can do still.
So much has been left behind, but not the skills I’ve learned or the memories I gained.
“But, as a result of leaving home, it’s become one of the few things you have to keep you connected to it.” Lord Brewbrt figures out, the wisdom of his age shining brighter than the golden lightning I am damned for not having. I nod quickly as my position on the chair changes again. Putting my legs out, I let the extensiveness of my efforts shine in the fire’s tidal light. Patterns of dye of fabric, my effort and others all.
“Y-Yes... Yes. I once never enjoyed it, then I came to appreciate what I could do with it as time passed by. Yet, now, for a few years now. It seems like the only thing I can do to feel happy.” I explain, bringing my gloved hands together and making my fingers dance. Slipping away from the grip of the other palm, I hold up one of my sleeves and look over its craftsmanship.
“I know I’ve said it before, but, it’s good work, Einervaene, you should be proud.” Lord Brewbrt reminds me and I can’t find it in myself to smile this time.
“It would be nice if I could make something without thinking about home. I’ve tried so hard over these past few years since the first ship first let slip its moorings... And, still, I cannot stop.” I explain, my frustration boiling well even without the heat of my magic or even this ornate fireplace.
“You should never let go of that sort of stuff. Never do that.” Lord Brewbrt tells me, his voice shockingly stern. I flinch and blink, letting my thoughts go away with a nod. Somehow, I feel the want to cry in my eyes. Though it does not escalate.
“Of course.” I answer, quietly.
“Your mother sent you here to keep you safe. Remember that and hold it dear to your heart. Einervaene. There was no abandonment or neglect. She’s gone to great lengths to keep you safe, especially by getting into contact with me. I will, in her good name, keep you safe as well. Whatever it is you need to do, feel free to do so. But, for the love of all the gods in the Orbital-Halo so high above All-That-Remains... Do not ever think you are alone. Even now, even now... You’ve found yourself some unlikely companions.”
“Nin and Rose’lhia.” I say, saying their actual names for once as this moment of vulnerability storms across my mind.
“Yes, they’re a colourful pair, compared to everyone in this town. But, I have a good feeling about those two. Especially that young man. There’s a secret he has which makes or breaks people. It says a lot about his character that he’s offered you the kindness that he thus far has,” Lord Brewbrt explains, and I nod some more. Looking away, I hide my surprise at how passively inquisitive my elderly friend is. With it on my mind only an hour or two ago, it is quite surprising to hear. However, I cannot find it within me to return my gaze to Lord Brewbrt and instead trail up a decorative pillar.
One surprisingly mindful of Lord Brewbrt’s past within my homeland.
“You think it is a good idea for me to journey with them to Thrurstradtur?” I ask, minding the art painted across the domed ceiling of this room. Lord Brewbrt’s chair creaks gently, indicating his joining in.
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“I do. The pair will get there, and they have the means to keep you safe. While I would prefer I did it myself, circumstances keep me here for the time being,” he explains as my gaze lowers in time with the emptying of my lungs.
“That’s... Understandable. You don’t need to explain the concepts of a ruler’s responsibility to me.” I say, standing up and walking over to one of the closed curtains. Ruining the mood that my host has aimed for, I look out at the daylight-shined town. Workers are still going about sorting out the prior damage, children are playing and others are going about their business.
Footsteps approach and I shuffle aside to give Lord Brewbrt some room in looking at his town, “Though I have the valley-riders, they’re not entirely enough.”
“I know... Mother has... Had...? No matter. She has the entire Bosphama domain at her beck and call. She’s one of the strongest nobles in all of Eusorochii. I know that much. Remember it, rather? Yet, for all her power, she did not feel like she had the means to protect me.” I say, finding my eyes sinking with depressive misery. With but a touch on my shoulder, Lord Brewbrt squeezes some confidence back into my spirit.
“When a net has to be cast far and wide, there're more chances for problems to slip in. Our eyes are marvels of divine accident, but they can only observe so much. Even with age and wisdom refining their strengths.” Lord Brewbrt explains, and he points out something in the streets. Doing my best to follow his finger, he uses an airy line of his silvered emerald brilliance to direct me further.
“A young man?” I question, watching the barely detailed image in the distance put something on or near his face. There’s a sense of familiarity in the back of my mind, but I cannot recall.
“A shop clerk, to be exact. One with a lot of growing resentment.” Lord Brewbrt says, and I frown at his words. Is his point that problems out of one’s control can lead to them overlapping with other problems? A cascade that entangles a web so well it becomes invincible to all but a blade that can cut it? I’m pretty sure Mother once told me a story about a cursed knot that was quite physical, with a great warlord of old cutting it so bluntly. His actions circumventing the means the original knotter had intended.
Through unexpected means can so many problems be solved… And, in my case, the safest thing that could be done was sending me off. To keep me safe from one thing, she had to send me out into the danger of another. I very much doubt that Mother was thinking like that when she made the fateful decision, however.
How can anyone who loves their daughter so dearly think straight in moments like that…?
“The people of the castle always seemed to love Mother, though.” I recall, thinking of all the smiles and joy I used to be able to get out of everyone. If there were any such problems, surely I would’ve learned or figured it out in my time alive? I may be young for one of rich-arcane lineage, but I am still close to my fifties.
Though I might not feel like it, I am older than many of the people out there in this town.
“People wear many masks, Einervaene. Some more literally than others, like your friend, Nin.” he laughs, guiding me away from the window. Smiling a bit at his joy, I try to cling to it and the hope that it brings.
“I suppose he does, doesn’t he?” I ask with a quick laugh of my own, imitating the beak shape I’ve grown used to seeing. I really do wonder what is beneath it, what that peculiar sound he lets out is caused by. But I will respect his privacy. If he wishes for me to know, I will learn.
“He has a lot going on in his head, too. He spends a fair amount of his time alone in the temple. Perhaps you would be well off to do so as well?” Lord Brewbrt suggests, and I stew in my thoughts some more.
“I’ve lost my sense of practice when it comes to religion, I am afraid.” I point out, my years of travelling not doing much to help my sense of belonging. Involvement with anything I cannot bring along with me is not really an option these days. Or, rather, of days past.
“Well, how about we go by and pay the shrine of Clohniq a visit? Do you still remember her divine rulings?” Lord Brewbrt suggests, aiming my direction towards the door out of this room.
“I do not-“ I start to answer and the room turns dark, only his magic keeping us in the light, “... No.”
“My apologies!” Lord Brewbrt laughs, his hand opening the door and bringing us back into the light as a dead fire smokes away in its confinement.
“It is nice watching how you treat your magic.” I comment sweetly, amused by how wind magic contrasts with the power of lightning. So many things that I can do that no one here can, and vice versa. While I might forget the nuances of home, even with my accursed colour of magic, I still know how the storm works in the clouds.
“And I am sure the people of my town will love watching you as you come with me to the temple! A good display of one’s technique and skill for the Goddess of Clothes.” Lord Brewbrt tells me and I suddenly recall the goddess. Ah, right, she’s the one whose markings permeate a lot of the tools I used to make these kimonos.