Ch: 161 Dream A Little Dream

She reached out and grabbed Gary, giving him a wake up shake. “Boy, I hae a new thing.” She mumbled thickly, still having trouble getting herself in motion.

They got their bodies, if not their minds in motion and staggered out into the early morning sunshine. He mutely pointed to a hotspring pool, which received her grateful and wordless assent. She sank into her boy’s blessed hot water and floated mindlessly.

The children were up and moving, she could feel them headed this way, which was new and very comforting. All her friends, kin and guests on the property were there, in her mind, marked as little moving pips on the strange power she shared with her sweet fool.

A few minutes later three little terrors cannonballed into the pool.

“We brought breakfast!” Amy said, at a stunning volume. “It’s by the tent!”

“Shhh, not so loud Amy, they're probably feeling pretty rough.” Becky soothed the little dynamo, as she slipped into the pool. She handed the bleary eyed couple steaming coffee mugs with a satisfied smile.

“Ducky said you guys got all the way into iron rank last night, he said we should let you sleep.”

“Had a weird dream…” Gary yawned as he tried to figure out how to make coffee go inside himself. It seemed really complicated for some reason. “Dreamed a bunch of people were watching us… so weird.”

That first sip of coffee landed like a bomb, shaking him back awake. “Aww man… People were watching us last night… Becky, that was private.” He fumed and grumped a little, while Shai had a gleeful cuddle with the kids and Becky.

“Dinnae be a sour apple boy, lest I press ye intae cider, fer I be iron rank now wi thee… an more besides. I hae been infected wi yer Interface thing a bit, though it be different summat.

She used his… and now her madness to summon a printed sheet of her vine bordered message:

Congratulations, you are made anew! Your rank has increased to Iron, progress to next rank: one percent complete.

Shai Ward: Human, Changeling

Class: Druid, Warrior

Age:18

Rank:Iron

Might:Iron, Fire, divine Contract, Blazing Heart Of Fury

Resilience:Iron, Joy, divine Contract, Indefatigable

Agility:Iron, Chimes Of The Wild, Shai’s Irresistible Dance

Will:Iron, Thirp, etheric Contract, Touched By The Void

Mind:Iron, Marduk, divine Contract, Insight Into The Beyond

Animus:Iron, Brigid, etheric Contract, Gift Of The Hearthmistress’ Forge

“You feel ok? Everything works still?: Gary asked, moving closer to check her over. Only she saw the naughty twinkle in his eye as he ‘checked her out’...

“Cut it out you two…” Becky snapped, bringing the giddy pair back to reality.

“Ok, kids, let’s go back to the house. The ladies are touring the orphanage today, since they agreed to our proposition.” She tossed that last bit out there casually.

“We will be their guides, along with Tawny, so you two take today and do… whatever you need to do.”

They formed a pair of innocent, dewey eyed faces of complete naivete, staring back at her, as though Shai were not crawling into his lap, with her hands below the surface of the dark, green water. “We’re… stretching… don’t wanna pull a hammy…

“Uh, huh. Whatever… you animals.” She muttered at the pair, as she got the kids out of the pool. “Dannyl’s on a supply run with the Ascots, showing them how the gear works. The house is empty, see you this evening.”

#

Angie shifted uncomfortably on the plush sofa, while the duchess served a local confection her grace had become deeply enamored of.

“Please sweetie, you may remove that thing when we are alone.”

With a grateful sigh, she bent down and unbuckled her prosthetic leg. “Time for repair my dear? We will ask lady Trelawny to recommend a local artisan… we can’t have you uncomfortable through this whole visit.”

The two women, one little more than a girl, snacked together in companionable silence for a fair few minutes. They sipped and nibbled, savoring the ‘brownie’ that her grace had acquired from the palace kitchens.

After a timeless moment of chocolate and tea induced bliss, the young woman did her best to focus up. She straightened herself, dusting a few stray crumbs onto her palm and discreetly popping them into her mouth.

“I assume your grace wishes my analysis of these reports and this latest prospectus…” She shook her pretty head in regret.

“Sadly, I can’t make any sense of this. Unless somehow, all these children are spontaneously sprouting Contracts… of course that is ludicrous.”

She took a moment to slip her leg under the couch, in case a maid walked in. She had heard that particular scream often enough in her short life.

“Duke and Duchess Belen have sealed these reports, as have a number of other notables, even Julius Rummel and duke Holloman… they cannot be some elaborate prank…”

“Abed Mubarak is taking them seriously, as is Lady Emma… she is young but has an instinct for the work. I should take her under my wing…” The duchess smiled fondly. “If I can ever winkle her out of Jaspreet’s snug little nest by the riverside. I would like to send you to talk to these children, this ‘Ginger Dreadnought Company’. Her smile deepened, becoming bittersweet.

“Once you have been adjusted and maintained, of course darling. Rest here in my quarters while I go ask Tawny about a craftsman.”

#

“She was brought to the temple of Dana in Port Sunderland as a toddler, her right leg mangled beyond saving. Those who brought her, denied she was their child and departed, so to the orphanage she went. I arranged fosterage and early purchase of her contract from War for a pittance, the poor dear. She has the most remarkable mind.”

Duchess Sheng was all elegance and comportment in public, but at tea in Tawny’s chambers, she was a potent force of nature.

“We have no makers of prosthetic limbs in town, though I do have some friends who would relish the challenge. I’ll summon a carriage for us.” The young Heiress said happily.

Half an hour later, the young warrior woman ‘helped’ her duchess into the first in a line of three coaches, the lead carriage driven by Liam, in his impressive armor.

The coach drove off with the noblewomens’ voices floating along in happy chatter.

#

“They call me ‘The Toy Collector’ when they think I cannot hear.” She said with a gentle smile. “Let them mock my ‘broken toys’ all they wish, my realm remains safe and protected by my ‘damaged goods’.” Duchess Sheng whispered.

“I will find implementing your reforms to be in line with my own activities.” She crooned happily, with Angie’s head on her lap, fast asleep.

“It’s taken me eighteen years to cut the graft, corruption and indenture speculation out of my cult of War and get the orphanage in line. I’d never thought to teach them all to read… Only a select few who show keen minds, have learnt the art.” She stroked the sleeping woman’s hair gently, with a soft, motherly smile on her lips.

“I had hoped you would accept our offer, Your teams’ casualty rates are startlingly low. My own has taken some hits recently…” Tawny said sadly.

The clopping of hooves and the creak of coach springs kept their conversation private, as they rolled through town. “I saw that in the prospectus… a disembowelment and a number of impalements, a broken wrist… you have had a busy winter season. Yet, your successes have pushed your crew to the top of the rankings, or would have, were they properly indentured.”

“The oddsmakers and gamblers can find entertainments elsewhere, my activities will not be influenced by their foolish games. We have been busier than you know. We will tell all the ladies of the wedding party the entire tale tonight, when we meet at the inn by the river.” Tawny answered with a tranquil smile of relaxation.

“I would like you to join us. For now, we will consult with our crafters and collect our honor guard for the day’s activities. This morning we tour the orphanage and Adventure compound.”

“I am looking forward to it… I take it you will be providing our guide and honor guard?” Grace and Tawny swayed side to side as the coach rolled over Wheatford’s smooth, level streets. Shoppers stepped out of their path and watched with interest as they passed.

“There is so little traffic, it’s a wonder, why is everyone so mesmerized though? Surely they see your family come and go frequently.”

“We hardly use these coaches… they are antiques from my great grandfather’s time, we go afoot usually.” The golden girl answered softly, lulled by the gentle rocking motion. “Only in emergencies are horses taken through the town, or to accommodate honored guests.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Really, I assumed you had a very active street sweeper’s guild…” Grace eyed the town more carefully as they rode. No hitching posts, no troughs or livery stables, the air itself was fresh and clean, unlike most cities.

“Most of house Belen’s horses are engaged in the trade, out of town. If horses are your interest, perhaps you should pay a visit to Herndon town. Our breeding and training facilities there are extensive... We keep only a few retired war horses and some ponies here in the city.”

“Interesting… the hygiene benefits alone are worth considering for my home…”

A few minutes later, Grace turned a level, disappointed stare at her hostess, as the coach passed a knot of young people, all near fifteen or sixteen years old, running down the road.

Each child was accompanied by a gangly yearling colt, clip clopping along in good order. Paint, chestnut, roan, black and white, they moved in a tight herd, following the children as they ran.

Tawny smiled at the older woman’s mild glare. “Ahh, those are all familiars, Beast has been… active in town lately. We will have an entire troop of truly gifted cavalry in a few years.” She smiled even more radiantly. “Our orphanage is becoming quite the zoo.”

“Well, now I must know everything…” Grace answered calmly. “There are deeper secrets here, I will find them Tawny…” She peered out the window as they rolled to a gentle stop and Liam leapt to the springy grass of the inn yard.

“Why are we here again? I thought we were…” Grace’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Your craftsperson is here as well… I presume. This smells of a scheme, Tawny. If you are playing some game, please leave my sweet warriors out of it. They have enough burdens to bear without political games.”

“Never duchess, never… I will leave cruel jests at the expense of the innocent to… other people.” Tawny answered firmly.

Liam helped the noblewomen to alight onto the soft lawn, then returned to carry the slight, frail, sleeping woman into the house. The compact warrior held her close and led the way inside, to the accompaniment of a merry tinkling shop bell over the door.

“High priestess Becky, we meet again.” The duchess greeted the small crowd with a wan smile as they entered.

“Duchess… be welcome in our humble home, yourself and your guest..” Becky’s smile remained radiant and welcoming, even as she eyed the form in Liam’s arms. “Will you join us for a late breakfast?”

Tawny took the reins with a smile and a wave. “We will be heading up to the orphanage for the tour soon, we thought that the children might like a ride in my coach…” She lied transparently, while the three little ones ate and giggled together.

“Ooo! Yes yes!” Amy shouted, with her mouth full of maple apple muffin.

Tawny nodded to the exuberant child and continued: “Young Angie here needs to consult with Shai’s boy, on a matter of craft and artifice.”

“They are still… asleep.” Becky said with a smile. “Liam, please make…” Becky’s keen eye took in the sleeping woman’s uniform and badge at a glance. “... sister Angie welcome in a guest room. They will be along shortly, I’m sure.”

As she spoke, Becky strolled over to the sales floor and with a single finger, rang a shiny brass bell on the counter. The merry tinkling chime spread slowly over the house, seeming to drift and sing gently everywhere for a few long, peaceful moments.

“Come along kids, off we go!”

#

Angie found herself in a snug, pleasantly appointed room, nestled in a cloud of bedding so soft it was difficult to escape. Her bare feet squeaking softly on the polished floorboards, she looked around. Alone and in an unfamiliar place, she slid the simple door of wood and paper aside and looked out on an empty hallway, lined with similar doors.

Just as in the room, colorful paper lanterns cast a cheerful light… yet shadows lingered in the corners and edges. The floor, walls and minimal furniture were clean and well maintained, immaculately so.

Strangely, cobwebs festooned the corners and crevices at the ceiling, waving gently in the still air, as if something had just moved among the floating threads.

The place was silent, or nearly so, the occasional soft rustle or quiet skittering sound came to her ears just often enough to set her nerves on edge. She was not alone in this place…

She moved down the hall, silently peeking in each room she passed. Each was similar to where she woke, a simple, cozy place of quiet comfort and understated luxury.

Though darkened and empty, they felt as if the unseen occupant had stepped out just a moment before. A subtle, animal warmth filled the place, feeling both lived in and strangely vacant, yearning, perhaps even hungry? But how could a house be hungry…

The hall let directly into a wide common room, not unlike a fine inn, though different in design from any that she had seen on her travels with the duchess.

Musical instruments, some familiar, most very strange to her eye, hung everywhere, among other goods in a wild and confusing assortment. From household tools, to unfathomable arrangements of metal and wood whose purpose were a mystery.

Stairs lead up to a doorway on the second floor. her feet made no sound, beyond the soft creak of skin on waxed and polished wood as she continued exploring the house…

Another hall, this one short, with only a scant few doors. The first was a nursery, with three neatly made beds and a huge chest of drawers. Toys, tiny musical instruments and childish nick-knacks filled the comfy room… A homey, lived in clutter.

The next was a bathing chamber, simple and clean, though of strange design. Robes of various cuts and different shades of green hung on pegs by the door, her fingers found the lapel of a short, satin robe of deep emerald green, the fabric felt almost liquid between her fingers, slipping away with a smooth, sensual texture. Very fine indeed.

The last door opened onto a forest glade indoors, with moss, giant mushrooms and rounded stones surrounding a truly ridiculous bed…

She even caught the scent of the occupants, a warm, spicy smell of wood shavings, leather and warm beeswax, redolent of summer honey and lavender. Mixed with that, a heady blend of forge smoke and the warm comforts of a welcome home, with a whiff of bergamot and patchouli…

Her toes curled and uncurled in the luxurious carpet of moss… Toes, ten of them. In confusion she looked back down, only now recognizing that she was dreaming.

Suddenly it all made sense, the strange house, the moving shadows and of course the swarm of gigantic spiders…

With a jolt she looked to the ceiling painted with a mural of the springtime sky, nearly obscured by webs and the legion of scuttling horrors crawling above her head.

One gigantic example, shining white, with golden lightning bolts on its abdomen, turned all eight eyes on her. It seared her soul with a gaze that had seen uncounted ages and unknowable voids. A sweet, gentle voice came singing from the creature.

“Ohh, what are you doing here, young lady? Are you lost?”

Angie’s scream echoed through the empty house of horrors and flitting shadows as she woke.

#

Her eyes slowly peeled open, gritty and clouded with exhaustion. Staying up all hours studying the duchess’ reports was wearing her down, even affecting her dreams. “Spiders…” She whispered softly.

“Good mornin’, though tis near mid day.” The voice was soft, but terrifyingly close. She sat up, searching for her crutches and a weapon in unthinking panic.

“Fear not, ye are safe an welcome in this house sister.”

Her eyes focused slowly and she found herself in that dream room of comfy bedding… no webs adorned the ceiling above her, thank the gods. The speaker was a red haired giantess, too wide and rough hewn to be beautiful, or even pretty… until she smiled.

Warmth and that scent of forge smoke, herbs and welcoming spice filled the little chamber, rolling off of the huge woman, whose radiant smile revealed her beauty, like dawn breaking over a pleasant home and garden.

“I did undress thee, fear not. I did also take yer measures, fer yer modesty. Twas needful, that me boy may begin his work fer thee, while ye slept.” She said, in her rough hillfolk accent.

With a jolt, Angie realized she was clad in only a thin, satin shift of green silk. So soft and smooth, she barely felt it’s touch. She took her crutches, leaning by the bed, and stood, carefully. Her shift fell to barely mid thigh, scandalously brief and shockingly comfortable at the same time.

“Tis a garment of mine, though tis fine an pretty on thee… Ye may keep it, as a gift of welcome, sister.” The huge woman said softly, her massive hand reaching out to steady the small warrior.

Angie’s gaze sharpened, noting the woman’s clothing. She wore common peasant’s skirts and a low cut bodice all in green, over a white shift, displaying a conservative quantity of snowy white bosom. Pinned to her bodice proudly, was a badge of the Adventure guild, marking her as an apprentice in the craft.

“I be Shai, yer hostess, Adventurer, an smith. Me boy be down in the workshop laboring at his crafts. Come, we bathe and dress ere ye meet that fool man of mine.”

“I’m Angie, mistress, apprentice Adventurer out of Port Sunderland, attached to duchess Sheng’s household guard. Please don’t trouble yourself…”

Her protest fell on deaf ears, as she was gently, but firmly made comfortable by her formidable hostess.

Everywhere the woman went, every step was accompanied by a soft, musical tinkle from the strands of bells at her hips. That fashion had started to appear in Port Sunderland as well, but this woman seemed to be playing her hips as a musical instrument, chiming in familiar melodies as she danced her way along.

She never stopped dancing, an unconscious and constant prayer to lady Joy, whose presence Angie could feel, just at the edges of her perceptions.

Before she knew what was happening, the woman had gently peeled her out of that satin shift and poured her into the most exquisite hotspring bath, with a breakfast tray served on the curb of the pool…

#

The giantess dressed her gently in a simple shift and some strange, skimpy underthings that she was highly suspicious of.

“Tis needful, we must hae… access tae thy… injury.” Her hostess blushed, but continued on dressing her anyway, not even flinching away from her short, ugly stump of a thigh.

“How do you have clothes to fit me? What is this place? My mistress said I was to consult a craftsman, to have my… leg adjusted.” The tiny woman demanded, leaning on her crutches and staring boldly up at the huge woman.

“The panties be Becky’s, she will nae mind an ye hae them, the shift be mine… this one an the other, they be snug an brief on me, as that foolish man of mine does prefer.” She sighed and adjusted her clothing. Displaying a wide band of pale, flat tummy between her bodice and skirts.

“He kinnae say me nay, an he hae a peek at me bellybutton.” Her girlish giggle of pure, simple pleasure soothed and caressed her frayed nerves; the woman’s warm, earthy naughtiness wore away at Angie’s rough edges of stress, pain and exhaustion.

“Come, He will need thy assistance tae complete his workings.”

#

The wedding party alighted from the coaches in a gabble of happy voices, climbing down onto the smooth parade ground courtyard. All the nobles stopped and stared, lost in the chaotic bustle.

The children that had been so notable in town were everywhere. Rolling about on wheeled boards and shoes, they were fairly swarming over the place, coming and going from the gate in a constant, colorful bustle.

Dull, blocky stone buildings were standard in every town, built in ages past and housing the guild and orphanage since times long forgotten.

The ladies had each visited several orphanages over the years, in pursuit of the best warriors that could be had for their coins. In so many towns and cities, they were always the same, staid, conservative, eternal…

Here they felt a living, breathing home, filled with action and potential. The administration building, their first destination, had a steady stream of activity, though most of the action centered around the dormitory buildings and a low, round structure surrounded by a stone wall, behind the dorms.

“This is… busy!” Lady Emma shout-whispered over the bustle.

Becky smiled pleasantly at the nobles, waving at them to follow her and the three little ‘Adventurers’ who formed the honor guard for the day. “Come along ladies, we have much to see. Amy, lead on please!”

Their tiny blue clad guide took the nobles on a whirlwind tour, they visited classrooms where green robed acolytes of Joy taught lessons in mathematics, literacy and topics that were less easily defined.

“Ethics and civics classes are a new innovation… Lord Marduk insisted.” Becky said with a smile.

In an enclosed courtyard, grizzled old veterans instructed the youngsters in arms, meditation and martial arts. Their pupils seemed attentive and focused, in contrast with too many other, similar visits.

When they arrived, an old man with dark ebony skin and a huge white cotton tuft of hair stumped over on a peg leg, with a wide smile for the visitors.

“Master Mikkel, come tell our visitors about the benefits of early cultivation training!” Becky sang.

“Oh?” The geezer asked, grinning even more widely. “Are we letting Otho’s dark secrets out into the light?” At the young priestess’ nod, the old man jumped up clicked his heel against his peg and landed lightly again.

“In that case, honored ladies, let’s talk straight out!” The old imp chuckled with mirth and winked at the ladies.

“Tradition dictates that cultivation is a practice for the newly ranked, needed to settle the magical energies of divine Contracts… this is a fallacy.” He paused to let that brew steep for a moment.

“Here in Wheatford, basic cultivation techniques are part of our initial lessons… A practice instituted by Beloved Otho of Joy, at the start of his tenure here, some three hundred and twenty years ago.” He announced happily. “That is the foundation of our long success.”

Emma huffed prettily. “We are no tyros here, master Mikkel. I have been aware of this ‘secret’ since I was a girl. We instituted that reform decades ago, in my grandfather’s time.” She let her eyes rove over the trainees all around. “On my last visit here, there was no sign of all this.”

“I said this was the foundation of our success, not the entire structure… Some new things have arisen that are too complex to explain here. The fact remains, this is where we begin.” The glib old coot seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

They wound up standing on the flat roof of the Admin building, looking over a garden, a simple hilltribe roundhouse and a vast bathing pool, swarming with elders and younglings even during the day. Beyond that lay a strange, undulating parkland of rolling hills, carpeted in a lush lawn.

Sprinkled with trees and interlaced with smooth paved trails and obscure structures, children practiced and played on their strange, wheeled devices stunting and performing tricks to delight themselves and their peers.

“So many… where do all these orphans come from?” Duchess Sheng asked, wide eyed.

“These are not all orphans… every child in the town, from market to commons and uplands is welcome here, to learn, play and practice arts of all kinds.” Becky said calmly. “Only Grownups need permission to enter. This is a sanctuary for children… so says the Orphan’s League Of Man.”

“Outrageous! Tradition dictates…” Lakshmi began and quickly fell silent when Becky’s gaze fell on her.

“If ‘tradition’ has complaints, ‘tradition’ is welcome to come make them… What is your complaint, baroness?”

Countess Leticia giggled and pulled her friend into a hug. “Lakshmi, I stabbed a man in the back not long ago; last night we watched him dance and play in the orchard unharmed. Tradition is a thin, flimsy cloak when storms come and a stifling weight when the sun shines. Let’s cast it off for a while shall we?”

“Well said, countess, shall we join the children for lunch? That is the highlight of the tour, if I’m honest.” Becky announced happily.

“Most of you have probably never tasted monster…”

#