After Janet had been exposed, Lady Dray immediately forced her daughter to apologize, and so the episode was more or less quickly forgotten. At least, on a surface level. Unbeknownst to the others an eerie spell had sealed itself upon the Drays’ lips ever since Janet got caught sowing unrest. This silence prevailed throughout their journey home. Only to break apart once their front door closed shut.
“Janet. Come with me,” Lady Dray commanded with a bristle voice and outstretched hand.
Janet glanced at her father for help, but his eyes turned out to be hard to catch. They kept eluding her with utmost expertise like a pair of flies on a hot summer day. “Janet!” her mother called out once more. The girl trembled but in the end she went along. Her spirit, already halfway bent from the staredown she received at the Clerebolds’ house.
Cassandra woke up from her carriage-daze, troubled by the sharpened mood. She stared intensely at the retreating couple and asked, “What’s going on? Where are you going?” Subconsciously her body reached out for them. Varon Dray saw this and stopped her approach with a firm hand. “Don’t follow them, Cassandra. They're only going to talk… You know? About dresses… And feyrions, and stuff...” But contrary to his light tone of voice, his grip was tense on her shoulder.
An uncertain look was cast at Alis who in turn said, “Let’s not disturb them… Come.”
The family split up. Varon Dray headed towards his study upstairs. Peres went out to visit the old Varon. And Alis took Cassandra into the kitchen now that her stomach was feeling better. There they came across the family’s cook, who was busy preparing some dough for supper. The dough was roughly kneaded and slapped around the kitchen counter. Each slap had considerable strength behind it, which made Cassandra look up and inspect the cook’s arm. Beneath that beige dress must be a pair of bulging muscles, she thought. As they drew closer, the cook began to address their presence, “Glad to have some life back in the manor again. So? How was your visit, girls?”
“Not bad,” Alis mumbled as she looked in the cupboard for leftovers. The cook eyed her attempt and shook her head. “You’re not going to find any tasty bits in there today, Alis. That cupboard has stayed clean since you left.” Another hard sounding slap landed down on the dough before it got dumped in a bowl to rest. “By the way-” The cook drawled as she went to find a dishtowel, “Where’s Janet?”
Alis began fidgeting with her fingers, which the cook disliked. “Oh? She’s with the lady right now. But I’m sure she’ll come by later.”
“With the lady? That’s odd,” the cook grimaced. Her eyes kept squinting at Alis till the teen couldn’t handle it any more. “And stop fidgeting, Alis! It’s annoying. you’re making me all nervous! By the Divines!”
Alis slumped her body on the counter, “I can’t help it, okay? The lady seemed-... Troubled.”
Cassandra perked up at Alis’ acknowledgement of the issue. But neither her nor the cook appeared to have further interest in the subject. “I’m gonna go take a look,” Cassandra declared to them both. The cook looked at her stunned. There was some hesitation in her eyes.
Alis, on the other hand, sternly rebuked, “No, you can’t! They don’t want to be disturbed.”
“But, there’s clearly something wrong with-,”
“NO!” Alis almost yelled. A hand flew up to her mouth and her lashes quivered. She felt remorseful for having raised her voice at Cassandra in that instance. The little girl sent her a look that said: Yeah… I’m not going to listen to you. A well deserved response. Still, Alis wasn’t going to let Cassandra just leave without a fight.
This Cassandra understood, so, before her guardian’s defenses got too strict she sprung alive. In a split second, she escaped Alis’ oncoming tackle and ran. Her set destination being Janet’s room on the second floor. “No, come back here!” Alis shouted as she chased after Cassandra up the stairs. But the child merely continued to ignore her calls.
Heaving and panting after breath, Cassandra was but a few steps away from Janet’s door when she heard the war declarations of an elder. “-talk back to me! Your insolence ends today!”
Never had Cassandra heard her mother’s voice sound so high pitched and distorted before. It screeched through the walls and through one’s heart before it ended. Following in its wake was the cluttered noises of furniture getting moved. Next came the silence. Cassandra reached for the door’s handle on her toes. She was about to encroach on the metal with her fingers, when a shriek suddenly attacked her already high-strung heart. Another cry erupted, then another, and another, and another. All of which rattled her very bones. She didn’t like her sister very much, but she certainly did not deserve this kind of torture!
Cassandra felt no longer fueled by courage, but rage! She barged in through the door, inflamed by determination, and barked at her mother to: “STOP IT!” Her spit flew far and wide. It almost landed on her mother’s feet.
Lady Dray lowered her spanking instrument quietly as if she had been caught doing nothing but the laundry. “What are you doing in here?” she asked as Janet laid splayed over her lap, still crying and with her rear end exposed. It looked close to bleeding. No doubt thanks to the birch that rested in Lady Dray’s hand. Cassandra didn’t respond for a while, she just stood there and fumed, unsure of what to do next.
Seeing her daughter for the first time looking so angry made Lady Dray slip out a misplaced giggle, “Why are you looking at me like that, sweetie? Did your sister’s screams perhaps bother you?” she questioned with a quirky smile.
Cassandra took a big step forward and answered truthfully, “Yes! Stop hitting her!”
Lady Dray had a distant look on her face. She didn’t seem interested in her daughter’s plea. Instead she settled her birch to then shout her husband’s name over and over again, “Hammond! Hammond!”
While she waited for her useless husband to arrive, she ordered Janet to spread herself across the bed on her stomach. The beating was over, but the same couldn’t be said about their mother’s work.
The second Varon Dray’s dawdling figure came into view, Lady Dray scolded the man, “How can you spare yourself the trauma, but not your daughter? Just look at how upset Cassandra is! She’s about to fetch a knife for my throat! All because of your incompetence.”
Varon Dray remained mute as he was too busy torturing himself over Janet’s glowing wounds.
“Well, why don’t you go ahead and color me evil, you sniveling coward! We both agreed that this was necessary discipline! But only I had the guts to do it! Hmph!... Move aside!” her mother growled as she went past Cassandra. At first, the child hesitated, but in the end she let the adult pass through unhindered. As their bodies brushed past each other, she felt her mother’s disappointment transfer over to her. She looked over at her father.
“Father… Why did you allow this?” Cassandra whispered to the man. Afraid of disturbing that perfect image she had had of him as an inept, yet caring parent. It was easy for Cassandra to hate something for not being perfect. She had tried her utmost to give this person a chance. Apparently to no avail.
“I would never-... I didn’t believe she would go this far,” Varon Dray excused through the gaps between his fingers. It was a meager attempt to shield himself from his daughter’s very disappointed eyes.
Cassandra despised the way he was acting in front of her. As he was beginning to remind her a tad too much of her original father. A man who had the tendency to be just as excellent at playing the saint in a relationship. Whose innocence, or rather, blessed ignorance, could be branded as just another form of evil.
Cassandra’s eyes lingered on the man. She wanted to pry open his facade, but withheld from doing so. Despite her eagerness to help, she felt guilty too. Why? Well, she could have stopped Janet from pulling her prank that day, being a former young adult and all that stuff. Cassandra wasn’t blind. She had an inkling that the relationship between the nobles was of utmost importance when it came to surviving in this new world. And now, like her parents, she too feared the potential rift Janet might have created that day…
If they were truly unlucky, then perhaps a pair of bleeding bottocks wouldn’t be enough to match the damage she had caused. But then again, her parents could also be exaggerating the whole damage aspect? Maybe the worst outcome would be Rey’s ruined view on carrot ice cream? Only time would tell.
Janet’s mischief was understandably the hot-topic for weeks. Alas, the gossip-mill isn’t a stale thing. And it requires new subjects to grind if it is to churn out any profit.
****
Winter was about to let up its cold grasp. The little snow there was had thawed, leaving gardens and farmlands completely soaked. People felt the presence of the returning sun. And they made sure to adore every minute of it.
“Ready?” Alis asked in an overly chipper tone.
Cassandra tied her cloak taut a bit strenuously and nodded, “Yeah! Let’s go!” The pair left as planned out into the city streets. It hadn’t been easy to get permission to leave like this, but since Cassandra was such a mature child, her mother saw no wrong in their little excursion to the textile store. Even if it was just the two of them that went alone.
Gravel snapped beneath their boots as they hurried along. Never a day did these gravelly streets look the same as the city was lively and full of eager inhabitants, ready to make their mark. Like in the grains they were currently stomping to bits and pieces.
While one could say that the gravel reflected the citizens' busy lifestyle, the buildings were the ones who reflected the citizens' wealth and wellbeing. Fortunately, most of them bore fine stone-faces, carved, and precisely cut for outsiders to envy and gawk at. But, the city also had its pimples of society: Ugly small huts scattered in between its more decent looking structures. Some of which reminded Cassandra an awful lot about the old Varon’s humble abode. The similarity piqued her interest enough to ask and point, “What’s up with those huts? They look really unstable and… Brittle. Like they might collapse at any moment.”
Alis gave the dirt piles a bored gander. “Oh those? They are but relics of the past. If they should be inhabited by anyone it would be by either beggars or newcomers. It’s seldom that you see the same people linger around them. There’s usually lots of work to be had in the mines or fields. But, of course, those down on their luck have a hard time leaving. They remain bound to the place… On to less depressing matters, did you know that your parents too once lived in a hut such as this? If I’m not mistaken, theirs is still standing today.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
For some odd reason Cassandra was taken back to the manor’s isolated garden. She thought of the trout-infested lake, her smoking grandpa, and the hollow visage that followed... Her memory was sparked by the floating images. It made her conclude with pride, “I know of it! I’ve seen it before! It’s the one grandpa lives in, right?”
Alis winced at his mention. “Right... I suppose it’s important that I let you know in regards to him, Cassandra, that huts can make fine homes despite their rundown appearances. They just tend to wear down quicker than stone settlements and they’re not usually meant for longterm keeping... You see, back in the day when the city was but a road and a post, settlers came and had to make do with what they had. Being: Dirt, clay, and dung.”
Alis guided them past several stalls hungry for their ciplings before she continued to share her mundane knowledge. “Some might even make you believe that the huts we see today are from the grand housing-scheme 10 years ago, but that’d be utter nonsense. If you ask me, the remnants today are no more than 3 years old. That just goes to show how desperate the housing situation continues to be. The only real homeowners are on the Irondane’s side. Here, on our side, you’ll be more likely to come across shared housing... As for the old Varon’s hut? That old den’s been in good hands so far. I reckon it’ll last for another decade before it turns into a mound of muck like its brethren.”
They turned a corner occupied by a group of coughing kids fresh from the mines. Each equipped with their own lantern, oversized cap, and dusty handkerchief. The kids were in the midst of hustling breadcrumbs and salted meat amongst themselves as a means of enriching each others’ lives. Compared to them, Cassandra stuck out like a fat piglet in a crowd of emaciated puppies. It wasn’t the greatest feeling ever. But a lot of people lived tough lives here.
Cassandra didn’t want to stare at them for too long. As a means to distract herself she went back to asking about the old Varon. “Why does grandpa live in the garden all alone? It can’t be that he has been exiled, can it?”
Alis found the notion funny. She smiled with a face covered in sunshine. “Things have changed so drastically in a very short amount of time. Some like it. Some don’t. As for the old Varon? He chose to dwell in the past, literally. He very much likes it there, so there’s no need to worry about him.”
They went into the textile store and haphazardly picked out enough fabric to last the upcoming spring. Afterwards they visited a house that wasn’t on their to-do-list. The sudden change of plans didn’t sit well with Cassandra. She felt betrayed by Alis’ unpredictability and nervous as to what her intentions could be.
Judging by the house’s facade Cassandra expected to have a meet-and-greet with a family of humble origins. The kind that would consist of a mother, a father, and their precious little plum. Sadly, the place resembled more that of a children’s sweatshop than a sweet nest. Women with different impairments, too damaged to brave the job market with no husbands to feed them, took in the children of other poorfolk with little in exchange. Children that were also in some way unfit for work. And here they all were, crammed into the space of a moderate building. The children were put to do the housework the women could not, and they would in turn look after the childrens’ basic needs and wellbeing.
Besides being a tight squeeze the interiors were also dimly lit, even though the house had a bunch of windows installed. These ‘windows’, however, were not equipped with glass. They were but a framed hole in the wall, so of course, the inhabitants had chosen to lock all the shutters in place to keep out the cold, even if that meant keeping out the light as well. As for the air they inhaled, it was chock full of smoke infused with the smell of burnt kitchen fat and light particles of mould. The kitchen fat they caught a whiff of was being heated up by one of the oldest looking boys for his rushlight-making.
“What are we doing here? I thought we were going to the Breeder’s shop?” Cassandra mumbled, almost too stumped to speak.
Alis patted Cassandra on the head reassuringly. “Don’t be scared, Cassandra. The thing is… I’ll have to head out for a bit. Alone. But in the meantime, my friends will watch over you. They’re good people, I promise! Just… Stay put. And I’ll be right back.”
Alis’ shadow escaped the gloom and alone stood Cassandra, suddenly in the midst of strangers.
“But!” Cassandra spat as an afterthought. Alas she was too late, her face was already getting eclipsed by the house’s curious residents. Some of which looked at her with disinterest, others with intrigue. Most of the children remained at their posts, diligent and quiet.
“And here we have a little Dray, eh? As seldom seen as a crossing cat! How is it in the manor, my lady? Is it true that the old Varon is dead?” one of the approaching women asked as she wobbled her way over with a basket securely nestled between her elbow and hip. Her hair was collected into a thin braid, the same color as the many scars etched into her cheeks and hands.
Cassandra tensed up at the woman’s question and answered, “No, he’s not dead? Do people believe that?”
The four women that now surrounded Cassandra whispered to each other skeptically. As they blabbered on, the boy working the kitchen’s fireplace felt the need to admonish, “I told you, Bayle. If he was dead they would have held a public funeral. Else it wouldn’t make any sense!”
The woman with the braid, Bayle, shouted back at the rascal as if they were both deaf, “Who knows? Who knows? It could have easily slipped their minds with how busy they are. Right, little one?” Cassandra trot back a step from the feminine crowd and folded her eyebrows unsure of what the others expected of her.
Her lost expression was quickly picked up on by one of the older women, who commented, “She’s but a little sprout. Stop asking her such nonsensical questions, Bayle!”
The woman being accused of such foolishness had grown immune to their scolding. She simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “What nonsense? I bet that you’re all starving to hear if this little Dray knows anything about the mines’ future. But Alis said that she doesn’t. So she probably don’t. Huh?”
The boy in the back paused his dipping of rushlights. He questioned, “How could she possibly know?”
The residents stared at Cassandra. It was blatant to see that they all yearned for her input. Unfortunately, she really had no clue on the matter. “I know nothing of the mines... Sorry,” she honestly told them.
The boy that seemed most affected by the Dray’s business, hung his head as he wiped the grease from his fingers, “Snapper-shit!” he lamented. “It’s probably all over and done with once I’m of age. Typical!”
The basket that hung from Bayle’s arm got slightly tipped over. It revealed a cluster of black sable ferrets to the boy. A business of ferret kits. She smiled at him and said, “My offer still stands, Terr… Ferrets can be mighty fulfilling as well, you know?”
The boy winced at the sight and barked, “I don’t wan’t none of your stupid furballs! They’re not the same, okay!?”
Cassandra stared at the kits, her mind confused by Terr’s grumblings. “What are you two talking about? I’m confused.”
Bayle cocked her head to the side and grinned, “Oh, you really are as blank as a bucket, my lady. The reason why Terr is such a crybaby is because he wants to be a transportations master. But such a position takes a few years in the mining business to attain. It’s not likely is what it is. But you can still dream on, Terr. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
To this, Terr hissed at Bayle, “But I want a teragon now! It’s unfair that only the rich get to keep them! It’s a heap of rancid shit is what it is!”
“Manners! Terr… Manners,” Bayle soothed as she and the silent kids watched the boy leave in a furious huff. One of the women yelled after him to come back and finish his chores to no avail.
Cassandra blinked in the boy’s direction. “So a person can get a teragon if they work as a-… A transport master?”
“Transportations master. And yes. They are handed out to those who have acquired the right position. They are paid and secured by the company itself… Otherwise, a boy like Terr can only dream,” Bayle kindly informed her. Cassandra nodded in thought.
She knew well enough from her first reading of the book that girls weren’t allowed to bond with genosaurs. Boys, on the other hand, were blessed with the choice, but not always the option.
Any man had the right to bond with a genosaur, but it wasn’t any man that could pay for the beast’s food, shelter, or the steeper expenses that came with attaining metia crystals. An element that would be required to deepen and strengthen the bond between partners, as well as evolve the genosaur's ability. But that wasn’t to say that the desperate were left without any hope. As long as one worked hard, had ridiculous luck, and a dash of people skills they could overcome the difference. Sigh~
Cassandra stared at the tiny kits and felt sorry for them. Because not only had ferrets, but wolves and cats as well, been outmatched by genosaurs when it came to being the most desirable pets on the market. Yeah, ‘dogs’ didn’t even exist. Why would they when the wolves never got domesticated in the first place?
“What about you, little one? Want a ferret? Only 14 ciplings and you’ve got yourself a pest controlling machine. And if you so happen to be into rat soup, then you’re in luck! I’ve trained mine to share their kills! They’re simply wonderful! Wonderful!” Bayle advertised with great passion. The other women skulking about seemed displeased by Bayle’s expensive offer, but kept quiet. They thought that the small child could afford the lesson and what harm was 14 ciplings anyway? For them it amounted to a week’s pay, but to Cassandra it was but a fraction of one of her dresses’ worth. Surely, Alis wouldn’t be mad if they exploited the child’s innocence to feed themselves? Would she?
Cassandra found Bayle’s eagerness repelling, but she still agreed to the deal. It wasn’t that she needed the ferret. Frankly, she didn’t know what to do with it. But she simply couldn’t ignore the shimmer of hope dancing tango in their eyes. And what if she valued the ferret to be worth those 14 ciplings? Then her purchase wouldn’t be that silly. Thus she agreed and gave up the money. The decision made her feel at ease. She really hoped that this money could ease their burden in some way.
Gratefully, Cassandra took hold of her purchase and smiled at the women. Showing them not to feel ashamed of the transaction, even though she looked so small and gullible. “Thanks, my lady! Thank you from all my heart! You deserve a thousand kisses!” Bayle sang out as she briefly hugged the girl, then shook her hand. Cassandra rushed out the words: “No need. I like my ferret. It was worth the money.” The other women coughed in discomfort at her comment, but gradually got over it. They resumed their chores and delegated the responsibility of babysitting to Bayle.
The cookie woman gladly seized the task and used the opportunity to teach Cassandra how to care for the baby ferret. She quickly went on about how: “This is how you pet it. And this is how you feed it.” But Cassandra didn’t listen for long. She simply couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t stand watching the shadows crawl as another minute ticked by.
“Bayle. Where is Alis?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know?” Bayle confessed, then she shouted at the others, “Do you, my fancy ladies, know where Alis went? No? Hmm… No one seems to know!”
Cassandra tightened her fists, contemplating whether she should head home or go look for the teen, when Bayle suddenly exclaimed, “Alis!?” The girl stood lingering in the doorway like a ghost. Her eyes were puffy. Her nose-tip scratched red.
Cassandra threw her ferret at Bayle’s bosom before she thruttled herself into Alis’ arms, “W-what happened, Alis? Are you okay?” she asked in an odd state of both panic and relief.
“I…” Alis blurted before clamping her mouth shut. She knew better than to spill anything in this den of gossip-hungry windbags. Her mind churned for possible cover-up-stories until one of true origin managed to surface the rubble. She calmly explained to her audience that, “I was visiting my father’s grave. Hence the tears… Sorry, Cassandra, I didn’t expect to get so emotional and dwell there, but… It just kind of happened.”
Her less fortunate friends understood. Their ears curled back as the noise of their chores resumed in volume. By mentioning her dead father the others’ curiosity were sated, the same couldn’t be said about Cassandra’s.
Alis bent her knees to connect with the little one on a personal level. She knew that she had kept the girl waiting for a long time so she earnestly thanked Cassandra for her patience and took her hand. But they weren’t going home. Not yet.
“... You don’t want my mother to see, do you?” Cassandra pointed out as she walked with her newly bought ferret safely tucked away in the front pocket of her dress. Alis stroked Cassandra’s hair in thought, not quite sure if the girl was old enough to handle her story: The story concerning her biological father. Or rather the story detailing the Danedray’s origin and the death of a poor man.
A pair of innocent eyes kept staring at her: Expectant and unafraid. They had Alis’ twitch her lips in an attempt to look jovial. She thought, since the day had already been ruined, she might as well ruin it further by pulling up snippets of her own pathetic past. She really hated it. Because it branded her as part of the rabble, and ultimately as someone they wouldn’t accept.
Alis looked hard at the freakishly mature youth. “I don’t want your parents to see, no… They’d think me ungrateful. Even though I seldom think of him…” A soft giggle escaped her lips as her gaze wandered away towards the old trading post. “I know that his slightest mention would only poke fun at their wounds. And that’s just how it is...” she explained, detached to the memory. She hardly knew that place anymore.
After a few minutes of silence she exhaled and said, “I’ve been told that my father back then was known as One-armed Arn. Someone you would likely spot at the old trading post as that was considered his homebase... One fateful day he began rambling about a cave that sparkled with earthly stars. Triata’s stars, he called them.” Alis smirked for almost forgetting that little detail. “Anyways. Those who were fortunate enough to hear and believe of his discovery were led by my foolish father straight to the site. The ‘beggar’ as they so kindly choose to refer to him these days, was happy and drunk at the time. Totally high from being believed in for once. My father was in fact so happy that he carelessly misstepped and fell to his death, straight down the cavern’s mouth … I was there, Cassandra… And I remember that if it hadn’t been for your father, the Varon, grabbing me, I would have followed in my father’s loose footsteps. And no. He wasn’t pushed. He really did die that way: Dancing like a moron till he slipped and fell into the-. Darkness… That. I remember vividly.”
Cassandra remained mute, giving Alis but a squeeze of the hand to let the other know that she cared. Even if words currently failed her. Alis repaid the kind gesture and continued her story. “After the incident, your parents and the Irondanes made sure to keep the mines hidden. And the Drays took me in, not as one of their own, but of close relation… As for mines? They were kept hidden until they could buy the land from Varon Clerebold at a ridiculously cheap price… I’m telling you, that man was furious when he realized the scope of their cheekiness. Rightfully so... I would’ve been too, if I found out that the lands I sold for cheap as trash-varons in actuality contained metia mines. But I guess, since the growth of the city sparked his own business as well, he overlooked their lies?... Well, at least, that’s what I’ve heard from my friends… It’s not like he appeared to have a grudge the last time we visited, right? So I guess it’s all true.”
“I hope so,” Cassandra shuddered. If not, then she wouldn’t feel entirely safe around the Clerebold’s anymore. Not after witnessing how bold they can be.
Alis agreed with Cassandra’s sentiment and led them on to the main street again. There, they wandered its rocky terrain for a while, admiring the life that prospered around it. As they approached the Dray’s manor, Alis felt the hope inside of her die with every step. In the end she decided to carelessly joke aloud, “Darn, it turns out being a fool can be hereditary, who knew? Haha” But as quickly as she had cracked the joke, she reeled and hissed at Cassandra, “But you can’t ever let them know that!”
Cassandra gave Alis a bewildered look, not sure whether she’d meant those words for herself or for others to hear. “What do you mean?”
Suddenly a translucent tear crept its way down Alis’ cheek. She wiped it away as she let out a controlled whimper, “Just tell them that we had fun shopping today, okay? We had lots of fun, and you even got a healthy ferret from the pelt shop… You tell them that. And everything will be fine!”
But you’re not fine! Cassandra vexed in thought, not really buying the things Alis was spewing. But what could she do? She was told to keep her mouth shut for the better, so she did. But there was definitely something wrong with these secrets Alis kept feeding her.