“Your footing is off.”
Ingrid yelped as she felt her legs swept out from under her, bringing her crashing to the ground. The elven girl groaned, rolling onto her back. “I landed on my staff…”
The tall human before her let out a hearty laugh before reaching down to offer her a hand. “Let that be a lesson then. Keep your stance wide,” he said as he helped her to her feet.
She nodded, rubbing her ribs where the hard, ironwood staff had made for a less than comfortable landing spot. Ingrid gave a bow, as customary when finishing a spar, but her teacher seemed to stifle a laugh at the clear pain that spread across her face in the action.
He sighed, putting his own staff on his back as he scratched at the small beard on his face. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today, Ingrid. Good job though, the improvements have been more than noticed,” there was a sense of pride in his voice, happy to praise his pupil. “Keep up the good work and you’ll be a Druidkeeper in no time.”
Ingrid beamed at the praise, bowing again, this time able to ignore the pain. “Thank you, Instructor Owen!”
“Training’s over kid, call me Labhras,” he yawned, scratching at the back of his neck as his slouch returned. “And watch where you swing all that hair, it almost hit me in the face. Geez, is it down to your knees now?”
Ingrid shook her head, running her fingers through her long, straight black hair. “No sir, just above. I’ll keep that in mind though.”
Labhras pinched the bridge of his nose. “Again, you don’t need to call me sir. Anyway,” with a wave of his hand, the dust from the training field was blown off of Ingrid, the wind swirling around her and picking up the individual fragments of dirt and removing them. She had to fight the need to sneeze as the dust tickled her nose. “You said you had errands to do, right? Give your siblings my regards.”
“Of course, sir.”
The taller man continued to massage the bridge of his nose as he walked away, waving behind him. Ingrid gave an enthusiastic wave back, then began heading for the gates of the palace. She looked around at the various other people training as she made her way to the gates. Archers training their bows on piles of hay, knights practicing their swordplay, and even a handful of mages testing out their spells with each other. From shaping the stone at their feet to conjuring small blasts of fire or ice. She even thought she saw one orcish mage in some sort of trance, likely practicing divination. Even with all of the different soldiers, there were no others that carried the staff and sickle of a druid. Labhras had said that druids were rare, but it wasn’t until she actually started training with him that their scarcity became apparent to her.
Eventually, she reached the gates to find another man waiting for her. An older human, seeming roughly sixty, with a pointed silver beard and mustache, and his hair tied back into a ponytail. He was wearing servant’s clothes, and gave a bow as Ingrid approached.
“Lady Alvar, I trust your training went well? I can see in your stride that you’ve been hard at work.”
“It was wonderful, Chimsley, thank you for asking. I hope you weren’t too bored waiting for me?” she responded with a smile, motioning for him to rise.
“Nonsense, Lady Alvar, you gave me plenty of time to read up on an absolutely riveting cookbook. In fact, I think I’ve been hit with inspiration to try out a new seafood stew for a meal tonight,” he said happily, clasping his hands behind his back.
Ingrid walked past, motioning for him to come with her. “Well, I made sure to save errands for after my training, so let’s head to the market. It’ll be good to walk around for a bit after Labhras hit me with that staff so many times,” she rubbed her legs, where there were absolutely going to be bruises the following day. “Gah, his staff is only made out of bluewood! Isn’t that supposed to hurt less?” she complained.
“The strength of the wood has nothing to do with the skill of the one wielding it, My Lady. Bluewood is also said to be much lighter and mobile than ironwood. They both have their merits,” Chimsley added insightfully.
The two chatted together as they walked through the bustling streets of Baile Cothrom, heading towards the river that split the city. The high towers of the palace behind them, cast shade over the roads, adding just a bit of a nip to the autumn air.
Next to the river was the market district, a place that was constantly packed with people on both sides, searching for anything from fresh produce from the farms outside the city to jewelry to hunting equipment. Ingrid allowed Chimsley to guide her in picking out the ingredients for the stew, selecting from the freshest vegetables and fish. With one basket full of fish and another overflowing with different kinds of vegetables. Ingrid took a deep breath and channeled the energy from the natural sources around her. The wind, the current of the river, the rays of the sun, and held out her hand over the fish. She felt the moisture coalesce and solidify into small chunks of ice to keep the fish cool. Sure it took a little energy, but it was good practice with mundane magic, and meant she didn’t have to take any of the vendor’s precious ice. Satisfied with her work, she and Chimsley returned to the Inner City.
Chimsley swiftly unlocked the gates to the grounds of Ingrid’s manor, opening them and allowing her entry. “After you, My Lady.”
“You’re a gem, Chimsley,” she smiled, grabbing his basket and entering.
Ingrid stopped at the small fountain, giving a brief prayer to the god of nature, Nilin. They were a tall, plump figure with hair of vines and flowers and robes woven from the most delicate cotton. They smiled as they crouched down, gently pouring water from their jug into the fountain, the same way they had filled the oceans for their son, Ozotl.
Chimsley opened the tall wooden doors to the manor, and they were both greeted with… Silence. Ingrid looked around. “This place is never going to stop feeling too big…” she muttered, bringing the fresh food over to the kitchen. There were no other servants present in the foyer, nor any groundskeepers to speak of. While the room for a garden in the city was limited, the Alvar family did keep a small one. It was a part of Ingrid’s training to keep it healthy. Labhras had gone on and on about all of the responsibilities of the Druidkeepers.
Being a Druidkeeper means that you’re a master of the land and world around you. Sorcerers draw magic from their bloodline, mages their knowledge, clerics their faith. You draw your magic from the nature of the world itself. There are twelve Druidkeepers, three in the capital, and one for each other city in Cordelia. With that comes a lot of political and military power. Do your best not to forget that.
She shuddered at the amount of times she had heard that lecture. She didn’t think Labhras ever tired of giving it. “Chimsley, would you mind starting? I haven’t seen Mattias or Cecilia all day. I’d like to say hi to both of them.”
Chimsley nodded, giving a small bow. “Of course, My Lady. I will have dinner ready before you know it.”
She offered a smile, then left the kitchen before Chimsley could notice that it didn’t reach her eyes.
As she exited, she leaned against the wall, letting out a long sigh. With the chaos from combat training dying down, she was finally realizing how tired she was. I’m definitely going to need to take a load off tonight, she thought. Pushing herself off the wall, she walked up the giant staircase, heading towards the study where she knew for a fact Mattias would be at this time of day. Walking down the hall, she noticed something that would be out of the ordinary for most other people. The shadows were wrong. There was no consistency in their position relative to the sources of light, and several of them seemed to be moving. It was like the shadows themselves were being sucked towards a single closed door in front of her. She smiled as she approached.
Mattias was the only one of the three who insisted on not having a personal aide. Ingrid doubted he considered how much that made her worry. She took a deep breath in front of the door, then put on a smile and knocked. “Mattias, I’m home from training! Don’t you want to say hi to your older sister?” she called in a teasing voice.
She was greeted with a brief silence, then the sound of shuffling materials on a desk and a person approaching the door. The door creaked open slowly, revealing the form of a much younger elf boy in his teens. His pointed ears were aimed downwards, and the light from the hall revealed his yellowish skin and sharp features. He was wearing casual clothes, a plain white shirt and brown trousers, as well as a pendant around his neck with an obsidian symbol magically shaped to look like streaks of shadow forming an ornate, circular pattern. He squinted at the light, making Ingrid painfully aware of the lack of any glowlamps turned on in the study, and the drapes pulled shut.
“Welcome back,” he said in a quiet voice, but with a genuine smile as he adjusted to the light. As the door opened, she saw what seemed to be a pure black shape that almost looked like a person behind him that quickly dispersed. As it did, several of the shadows around her in the hallway returned to what would be their natural state.
Ingrid rolled her eyes, smiling as she reached down to ruffle his unkempt black hair. “Good to see you too, Mattias. Now, are you gonna at the very least open up some shades? It’s not good for your eyes, even if you can see in the dark.”
Mattias giggled, batting away Ingrid’s hand and resetting his hair which, apparently, had some method to its madness. “You know it’s easier to practice in the dark! Plus I need to be able to get used to it. The more time I spend in it the better I can see!”
“That won’t do you much good if you can’t leave the house during the day now will it?” Ingrid teased, walking in and opening a few shades. She looked down at the desk, seeing several open tomes relating to Umbrakinesis. Organizing them and marking the pages they were on, she put her hands on her hips and turned to Mattias. “You know I’m proud of you for how hard you’re working, but you really don’t need to spend every waking moment studying.”
“I know, it’s just…” Mattias sighed, fiddling with his pendant. “Sorcerous blood in my family was dormant for so long we forgot it was even there. I just feel like I need to, you know, prove myself, in some way.”
Ingrid softened her gaze, then walked over and pulled her little brother into a hug. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Besides, there’s no way I’ll ever not be proud of you.”
“Thanks, sis,” he muttered, returning the hug.
Ingrid clicked her tongue. She recognized that tone. That was the ‘there’s something else’ tone. She separated the hug slightly and looked down at him. “Mattias, are you going to come clean or am I going to have to emotionally pry it out of you?”
He looked away, fiddling with his pendant again. “ …ll on your own…” he muttered, barely audible.
“Come on, you’re seventeen. Use your words,” she mused.
“...I don’t want you to have to take care of the family all on your own,” he said.
Ingrid faltered slightly. It was true that she had put a lot of responsibility on herself. Their parents were gone, leaving just her, Mattias, and their older sister, Cecilia. At this point, it might as well have just been them. Ingrid patted Mattias’s head, gentler this time and not messing up his hair.
“Don’t worry about me. I have Chimsley and Dervla to help me out. The best thing you can do for me is make sure that the best brother in the world is okay. Got that?” she said, smiling at him.
For someone whose blood had the power to control shadow, Mattias’s smile was luminous. “Sure thing. Thanks for everything you do, sis.”
She chuckled a bit to herself and pulled him into another hug. This time grunting as something hard poked her bruised ribs.
“Oh! Are you alright?” her brother asked, a look of worry on his face.
Ingrid nodded, rubbing the sore spot. “Yeah, just, it was combat training today, and you know Labhras has a very skewed definition of ‘going easy’ on me,” she chuckled as Mattias gave an understanding nod. “What was that? A book?”
Mattias’s look immediately switched to one of a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “Uh, yeah! Just another textbook, but, uh, one I carry around with me! A travel edition!”
Ingrid gave him a mildly amused look. “You know you could have just said yes and I would have believed you. You’re a terrible liar.”
He looked away, pulling the small book out from under his shirt. “I mean… It is a book.”
Ingrid took a quick look at it, checking the table of contents. As she looked at the chapters and pages, her eyes went wide. “Mattias, what are you doing researching the war? You know Cecilia would lose it if she knew you had this,” she said, the concern apparent in her voice.
Stolen story; please report.
Mattias soured, “She barely leaves her room anyways, much less to come in here and check on me,” he said bitterly.
Ingrid clicked her tongue. The war that their country had fought with the Dark Fey was still fresh in most people’s memory, only ending a mere ten years prior. For some people, like her sister, it was a little too fresh. “Alright, I’m not exactly one to talk. Just, make sure you don’t take the book out of this room? I don’t want to trigger an episode with her.”
He sighed and nodded. “I was gonna say. Speaking of which, are you going to be going out tonight?”
Ingrid nodded, running her fingers through her hair. “Yeah. Stress has been piling up, and it doesn’t matter how many years I do it, budgeting and paperwork is never going to be easy for me.”
“Well, you know I don’t exactly have a problem with it, but if Cecilia finds out…” he bit his lip.
Ingrid tilted her head. “It’ll be fine. Hopefully… Hopefully things can go back to normal soon.”
Mattias’s look changed to one of worry. “Um, yeah. Normal. Right…” he trailed off. “Well, I’m gonna clean up here. You should probably go say hi to Cecilia and Dervla.”
She nodded, patting her brother’s head one more time. “Alright. Dinner will be ready in a little while, so make sure you wash your hands too.”
With that, Ingrid left the room, making sure to close the door behind her. Mattias was always very particular about making sure it was closed. She spent the next few minutes pacing around the upper floor. It was her own little ritual. She loved her sister dearly, but it would have been a lie to say that talking to her was anything other than emotionally exhausting. It was hard to blame her for it though, after everything that happened.
Heading over to her own room, she opened the door and slumped onto the bed without closing it. Laying there for a minute or two, she rolled onto her back and sat up. She began undoing the buckles on the enchanted set of armor that she wore, only now noticing the fatigue from having worn it for so long. Taking it off was a process, but also a catharsis, like she had just let out a breath she had been holding in for a long time. With a quick spell similar to the one Labhras had cast on her earlier, she cleaned off the dirt and grime that had come from getting knocked on the ground so many times, and hung the breastplate back up on its armor stand.
She took a step back, looking proudly at it. As a Druidkeeper, she wasn’t permitted to use metal weaponry or wear metal armor, but they were nothing if not creative. Mundane armor tended to be made from bones or leather, but bluewood and ironwood were the true materials of the Druidkeepers. Magically enchanted wood that could be worked and molded into the complex shapes needed for armor, while also having the sturdiness to hold up against most physical attacks.
Granted, she thought that bluewood was a misleading name, given the breastplate she wore was both made out of it and also jet black. She had talked Labhras’s ear off about it on multiple occasions though and, tragically, the druidic world was deaf to her plight.
Swapping her clothing to something more comfortable to walk around in, she exited the room and headed down the hall to where she knew she’d find her sister. Despite the rude way of stating it, Mattias was right. Cecilia rarely left her room for reasons other than meals.
Ingrid took in a deep breath, counting to ten. She knocked on the door. Quietly.
The door opened slowly. “Ah, hello Lady Ingrid. I trust your day was good?” asked the young human woman who answered. She was wearing traditional servant’s garb, with short brown hair and amber eyes.
Ingrid smiled. “Hello Dervla. Yes, it was, thank you for asking. Is it alright for me to say hello to my sister?” she asked politely.
Dervla nodded, opening the door the rest of the way, allowing Ingrid to enter. Stepping in, she looked upon her sister. Even after a decade, it didn’t hurt less to see what had happened to her. Looking on, she seemed put together. She was dressed sharply, and had her long black hair clearly well cared for and washed. Ingrid was well aware that the only reason it wasn’t as long as her own was because of Dervla’s constant attention and care. She owed everything about her sister’s well being to Dervla. However, Ingrid knew that the woman who had taken care of her and her brother, laughing and teaching her to cook was long dead. In her wake was a husk of a woman, robbed of everything she had been. She was confined to a wheelchair, the war having taken her legs.
Ingrid put on a smile, walking in front of Cecilia and kneeling down in front of her. “Hey sis, are you doing alright?” she asked gently. She took one of Cecilia’s hands in hers, rubbing it comfortingly.
Cecilia looked at her sister, her dim, red eyes looking barely there. “...You always ask that expecting a different answer.”
Ingrid winced. “...More hoping for a different answer,” she admitted, “You’ve been looking better though, that’s good. Have you been going outside at all? Some fresh air and sunlight might make you feel better.”
The older woman was quiet for a bit, looking down at her left hand. “You mean like… Going to the park?” she murmured.
Ingrid lit up. “Yes! That’s a wonderful idea. Here, this weekend, why don’t you, Mattias, and I go there together! Just like we used to,” she offered excitedly, still making sure not to be loud.
“No.”
She stopped, her smile faltering. “Um, I’m sorry, why not?” she asked, trying to hide how much that felt like a punch in the gut.
Cecilia looked at her. “Tomorrow is the anniversary. Or did you forget?” she asked, the same neutral expression and tone as always.
“N-no, I didn’t forget. I promise,” she said quietly, “I just was hoping you could maybe start taking the actions to move pa–”
Her sentence was cut off by a stinging on her cheek, and she realized she was looking at a mortified Dervla, rather than her sister. She put a hand to her cheek, looking back at her sister. The anger was the most emotion Cecilia had shown in a while, her hand still in the air from slapping her.
“That is not your choice to make,” Cecilia spat, “If this is all you came here for, then get out of my room. Dervla, show her out.”
Ingrid was speechless, staring dumbly at the look of rage in her sister’s eyes until Dervla came over to begin leading her out.
“P-Please forgive her, Lady Ingrid, she’s very overwhelmed with the thought of tomorrow. I hope to speak to her about this,” Dervla gushed apologetically, though making sure that Cecilia didn’t hear.
“It’s fine, Dervla, you have nothing to apologize for. I know you didn’t know them, but when Ealadha and Binne were… Still here, she was so different,” Ingrid said quietly, the surprise starting to fade. “A part of her died with them, I think.”
Dervla stared down, quiet for a moment. “I’m sure you noticed, but she still keeps her wedding ring on her left hand,” her tone was somber as they exited to the hallway. “She still doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s gone, yet at the same time it’s the only thing she can think about.”
“It’s been like that since even before you were hired. I feel like I don’t thank you enough for what you do though. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know if my sister would still be here at all,” she admitted. She rubbed her cheek again, giving Dervla a sad smile. “Thank you for taking care of her. Please tell her that dinner will be ready soon. Chimsley is making a seafood stew, and we purchased some fresh bread to go with it.”
Dervla nodded, “Thank you, Lady Ingrid. I am happy to continue doing my duty. Please take care of yourself. Oh, and enjoy yourself tonight,” she added.
Ingrid was slightly taken aback. “I didn–”
“I have grown accustomed to your habits, Lady Ingrid.”
She couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. She gave a small wave to Dervla as she headed back to the kitchen. A smile managed to form on her face once she was out of sight and earshot. “You and Mattias both. Goodness, maybe I should work on my poker face.”
She returned to the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves. It wasn’t a surprise to see Chimsley hard at work getting the stew ready. He had always been a hard worker, and had been with their family since before Ingrid was even born. Even so, he never once offered a complaint about anything. She was endlessly thankful for both him and Dervla. Dervla was obvious, but Chimsley was currently the closest thing to a parent that anyone had. Having Chimsley help her was a blessing.
“Alright, anything I can help with?” She asked cheerfully, washing her hands.
Chimsley smiled, not even motioning to look at her as he completely focused on his craft, or ‘art’ as he liked to call it. He gestured over to where various fish were waiting by a cutting board. “The mussels and clams are already dealt with, but if you could, would you mind cubing the halibut and cutting the scallops in half?” he asked politely.
Ingrid nodded and went to work. “Of course. Is there anything else?”
“Do not get overzealous, Ingrid. You must focus on one task at a time if you hope to complete the grander picture properly,” he said, waving a spoon at her.
She grinned at him simply calling her ‘Ingrid’ rather than a title in the kitchen. Evidently, it was something he had done with her parents as well. Social standing means nothing in the kitchen. There is only the food, and the chef. Nothing else matters, was what he said when she asked why. It had a strange way of comforting her.
The two worked together, a culinary force to be reckoned with as they methodically put the stew together. Mixed in with a few playful shouts and the occasional whack on the head with a wooden spoon when Ingrid tried to steal a piece of food or taste without asking. Of course, said hits were noted and tallied, as both knew quite well that when Ingrid had her turn to be in charge of dinner the roles would be completely reversed.
Once everything was done, they portioned it out into five bowls, making sure to give an even amount of the fish and vegetables, followed by a generous chunk of bread that they had toasted in the oven just prior to serving.
With Chimsley setting the table, Ingrid went back to the foyer, calling out to her siblings and Dervla that dinner was ready.
Mattias came down normally, but Ingrid found herself wincing as she heard the wheelchair sliding down the ramp that had been added to accommodate it. She looked over to see a still-bitter Cecilia, and an apologetic Dervla pushing the chair.
Ingrid made eye contact with her sister, then quickly averted her gaze and returned to the dining room, taking her place at the head of the table. She had Mattias to her left and Chimsley next to him, with places to her right for Cecilia and Dervla. The idea of being directly next to her sister was nerve wracking, but she’d manage.
After Dervla pushed Cecilia into her spot and took her own, the five of them linked hands. Ingrid took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then spoke. “Thank you Nilin, for blessing the lands for these vegetables to grow. Thank you Ozotl, for gracing us with these fish for us to eat. We count our blessings, and we thank you for them,” she opened one eye, scanning the table, then closed it again. “Let us eat.”
As usual, Mattias immediately began digging in, shoveling down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. It was enough to make Ingrid laugh. The dinner was quiet, aside from the sounds of Mattias gorging himself. No one wanted to broach the apparent tension between Cecilia and Ingrid. Chimsley was wise enough to notice it, but Mattias was clearly unaware. That might have been for the better.
Why is this so stressful? Ingrid thought to herself as she continued to eat. She stared directly at her bowl, not daring to look up and at the eyes she knew were boring a hole in her. Every time she heard a shifting sound from her right, she found herself involuntarily wincing. Today wasn’t the first time Cecilia had hit her for saying the wrong thing. Just the first time in a while. Ingrid had been under the impression that progress was being made. Okay, come on Ingrid. She’s your sister, you love her. Just calm down. Deep breaths.
For someone who normally wasn’t very perceptive, Mattias had a way with knowing when Ingrid was beginning to get like this. Even amidst the sounds of his eating, she was surprised by a gentle hand being placed on hers. It was only now she realized it was shaking. She looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at her, just continuing to eat his fill. She couldn’t help but smile a bit. Thank you, Mattias. I love you too, She thought.
Realizing that she had barely touched her dinner, she started to eat. Her heart was still jumpy, but it was manageable. Of course anything Chimsley made was going to be delicious, but she felt a sense of pride from her own contributions. Working with him on meals for the past decade had clearly shown its benefits. Plus, he was always adamant that she take pride in her work, saying it would do wonders for her mental state. As usual, he was right on the money.
It didn’t make the dinner any less silent though. The five of them continued their meal, with the only words spoken being Mattias asking Chimsley for seconds.
After finishing their meals, Cecilia waited for Dervla, who said a quiet ‘Thank you’ before wheeling her out of the room. Ingrid gave an audible sigh of relief and slumped in her chair after they were gone.
“I felt the entire room get colder during dinner,” Mattias said, mopping up the last of the stew with a chunk of bread. “Literally. Your magic does it without you even trying. I take it the idea didn’t go well?”
Ingrid shook her head. “She still gets mad when someone suggests moving on,” she muttered.
“Did she hit you?”
Ingrid clicked her tongue. So he did notice. “It wasn’t that hard.”
“Ingrid, no,” he said flatly, “That’s not an excuse. I get that losing people you love is hard, but that isn’t an excuse to treat who you have left like trash,” he all but growled. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, giving a quick thankful nod to Chimsley when he took his bowl to go clean. He looked over at Ingrid, though she averted her gaze. “You can’t keep letting her treat you like this.”
She rubbed her forehead. “What choice do I have? I promised Ealadha when he died that I would take care of her, that I’d make sure she’s happy,” she said sadly, “I at least need to keep trying.”
“You’ve been trying for ten years, and look at all the thanks you’re getting,” his tone was bitter, “Guess what, I miss Ealadha and Binne too. He was the one who helped me get more comfortable with myself. Binne was like my first actual younger sibling. They were important to me too,” he leaned forward in his chair, a fierce look in his eyes. “Am I hitting you when you say something I don’t like? Am I wallowing in my room for days refusing any help or deciding to stagnate for the rest of my life? She’s four times my age, she can act like it.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Ingrid muttered. Her heart was racing. She could feel her hand shaking again. Her breathing was getting faster.
Mattias’s eyes immediately softened to worry. He placed his hand back on hers. “I’m sorry for getting worked up. I can’t stand seeing her treat you like this,” he said in a soft voice. “Chimsley and I can handle the cleanup. Go take a load off, you’ve more than earned it.”
There was that luminous smile again. She had no idea what she’d do without it. She nodded, taking a few deep breaths until she felt comfortable getting up. Ingrid walked to the kitchen, patting Mattias on the shoulder as she left. Chimsley had already moved the rest of the stew to a smaller pot, set up for travel.
He turned to look at her, giving that charming smile as always. “Are you alright, My Lady? Dinner seemed to take a toll on you.”
She took a deep breath, but nodded. “Yes, just, it didn't really help with the whole stress thing. Is this for what I think it is?” she asked, pointing at the pot.
He nodded. “I’m sure that everyone there is busy. A home cooked meal will do wonders for the body and soul, especially in that line of work. There’s a reason we made so much. I’d say probably seven bowls worth are in that pot,” he let out a chuckle. “Or did you have that much confidence in your brother’s appetite?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “It won’t feed everyone, but if they take smaller portions it can get more,” she said, putting on a jacket and grabbing the pot. “I’m sure they’ll all be thankful. I’ll tell them you made it.”
“Don’t leave your own hand out of it, you’re just as responsible for it,” he scolded lightly. “Now be on your way. Have a wonderful time.”
Ingrid nodded. “Thank you, Chimsley. As always, you’ve been an enormous help. Make sure you give yourself a break tonight too, alright?”
He gave a chuckle and a nod, going back to his work. Satisfied, she gave a small wave to both him and her brother as they got to work on cleanup. She exited the manor and the gate, pot in hand, and started heading towards the river. She came to the bridge and crossed it, turning to her destination in the lower district.