Gram’s suggestion of the library turned out to be a good one. Orer had to admit that the Raidworth matriarch knew her grandson well. The room was about three times the size of a study, the space well-utilized to fit an array of books throughout it. There was one chair next to the lone window. Orer went over and sat down, picking up the single book lying on the table beside it.

“A Guidebook to Gregar,” the title read. With nothing better to do, he opened it and began to read.

“Dear Reader,” the introduction began, “my hope is that this guide can serve as a reliable source of information for all things in the Province of Gregar–be it land, humans, or other folk among us. Approach this place with caution and reverence while applying the knowledge you may glean from these pages, and you may very well manage to not merely survive in these parts, but truly succeed as a constituent of the Realm.”

The introduction went on to describe the esteemed honor of being a resident of Gregar. Orer had to admit, the author made Gregar not seem half-bad. He flipped to the front page for the publication date, and saw that the book had first been printed over eighty years ago. Figures. Areas like these always saw a population drain when not enough businesses invested and younger generations got bored.

Names were listed next, and Orer began to thumb through the pages quickly. But one final sentence in the introduction caught his eye.

“I might also add: the halls of Gregar are not easy to get through alone. It is highly advised to travel with a companion, especially when leaving the estates of the grand human families.”

Such a strange way of putting it. Be that as it may, Orer was on one such estate. Ah, well, he could always drag Kena into a bit of an adventure. A hike in the woods would do them both some good in a couple days when Kena had calmed down about being so remote.

The first chapter after the introduction delved into the families of estates. Orer guessed there were close to twenty of them as he gave a cursory glance over the list of names. And there, perhaps not surprisingly, was “Raidworth” written towards the end. He found the page noted next to it and went there to read about the family.

“The Raidworth Family has been living in the land of Gregar since before the War of the Realms,” the first line read. “Mr. Tar Raidworth was a man of high honor and the father of this estate. He first came to Gregar after receiving an allotment of land for his service in the War. Having been an engineer, he likely played a significant role in aiding the nymphs of Liran Gasa to defeat their foes from Ri Vuon Awa (known coloquially as Rivu). This first Raidworth of Gregar had specific talent in making ships. This writer cannot confirm their truth, but rumors abound as to the possibility that the king of Liran Gasa made certain to give Mr. Raidworth land far away from any lakes, large rivers, or oceans; such a plan was likely due to his fear that Mr. Raidworth would betray him and start building ships for an enemy of Liran Gasa. This writer had the opportunity to meet Mr. Raidworth–the fellow was so friendly, it hardly seemed likely that he would betray anyone. But I digress.

“At some point, Tar met and fell in love with a woman by the name of Cher Inga Spar (affectionately known as Cherine). Cherine was part nymph, but hid her nonhuman characteristics well. The two had three children–Anuv, Ginga, and Orer. Being the only son, Orer took over the estate once his father died. He met and married Farisa, who was most certainly only human. Not much is known about Orer’s work, but it is believed he started the automobile company which his son Lor built into quite a company. Lor was an only child, and he met and married Punash. They had seven children together, three girls and four boys. This is where the Raidworth account gets bloody. Although four sons were born, only one–the third, named Bariv–has lived into his thirties. I will leave it up to the Reader to presume what happened to the other brothers. The three sisters are currently living happy and healthy lives. Women cannot inherit the estate, you see.

“Lor may have built the family company up, but Bariv made the Raidworth name the terror it is known by today. As of now, he has two young children–Madris and Quor. This writer can only hope that Quor makes it long enough to inherit. Assuming his father’s good will, of course.”

Save for a couple odd statements here and there, Orer found the read interesting. At least he knew where he got his name from. Family myths, as fabricated as they might be, always held some truth to them. He went back to the beginning of the chapter, wondering at the other family estates in Gregar. With the book being so old, he guessed that Bariv was a great- or great-great-grandfather.

Within a couple minutes, it became clear that the author had written little of the Raidworths in comparison to the other families of Gregar. The Awari family had a whole four pages dedicated to one generation, and Moro received three paragraphs describing their famous berry pie recipe. For Tasgi, the author had even included illustrations of their estate’s garden and grove.

Orer would really have to ask Gram what made their family so dislikeable when he had the chance. It was difficult believing Bariv killed all three of his brothers. Likely, something else happened and a murder tale was created to cover up the embarrassment. If it was Orer’s guess, he bet the other three brothers went in on an investment together and lost out, big time. Bariv was the only one capable of managing the estate so his father passed the company on to him and made sure any descriptions of the family left out the other disgraced three.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Hours must have passed since he first picked up the book. The section on lineages had been hundreds of pages long. Orer left the book where he had found it and left the library, aiming to go down to the kitchen for a snack.

He made it halfway down the banister when he heard, “Orer!”

Orer looked up to see Kena looking down at him.

“What?”

She leaned against the railing. “There’s a workout room in the basement. Can you check it out with me?”

Maybe Kena didn’t mind getting sweaty after all.

“Sure,” he said, “after I get a snack.”

She rolled her eyes and stood back at her full height. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He nodded and went the rest of the way down. The kitchen was empty of the breakfast meal from earlier, but he was able to find enough in the fridge and pantry for a hearty snack of crackers, salami, and cheese.

“So why didn’t you want to go by yourself?” he asked when she rounded the corner. He wagged a piece of salami at her. “And don’t tell me it’s because you’re scared of basements, too.”

She frowned. After a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “No, I just thought you’d want to check it out.”

Liar. But he would let it go for now. “That’s nice of you. I do want to check it out.”

He would have to find a way to scare her later. Maybe bring some field mice in as a pleasant surprise while she lifted weights? No, he couldn’t imagine that one going over too well for anyone involved.

“Have you checked out the library?” he asked her. The conversation was making him think about everything he had read.

Kena scrunched up her nose. “Ew, no. Why would I ever be caught dead in a library.” Her tone was flat.

“There are some interesting books,” he said absentmindedly.

“Well, I’m glad at least one of us has found his escape. Hopefully the workout room will be mine.”

“Do you know much about the Raidworth family history?”

Kena folded her arms over her chest. “Orer, are you trying to stop us from going down to the basement? Because it isn’t working.”

He dropped the salami and put his hands up in surrender. “Of course not! I was just curious, is all.”

She dropped her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “All I know is that the first Raidworth came out here to escape from a war. That’s what Sten always told me.”

“My mom never told me anything,” Orer replied, suddenly a bit jealous.

“Speaking of your mom,” Kena said, eyes lighting up a bit, “can I ask–does she have any gray hair yet?”

Orer picked up another piece of salami. “Er, I don’t know?”

“Ok, well what color is her hair?”

“Um, brown,” he said, “and curly, a bit less curly than mine.”

“Probably because it’s longer. If you grew out your hair to be like some punk singer, you two would be twins.”

That was not the mental image Orer wanted in his head at the moment. “Thanks.”

“I’m only asking, because, well, I have this feeling that good genetics run in the family. I mean, my dad’s face hasn’t cracked yet and I hardly see a wrinkle on Gram. I just wondered what I was up against with the generational turnover and thought that maybe your mom would be the best, I don’t know–litmus test, I guess–to know whether I’ll age smoothly or not.”

Orer balked, choking. “Seriously?” he asked. “This is why you care so much? You just want your skin to be smooth for another three decades and think my mom’s lack of gray hair will tell you that?”

She gave him a cool stare. “Really, Orer, come on. Haven’t you noticed how young Gram looks? I mean, what she’s in her eighties and her back isn’t even bent?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t know. She’s my only living grandma. I don’t exactly have a direct comparison.”

“Well, I do,” she replied. “My Nana is only seventy-five and she looks like she could keel over at any minute. Gram, on the other hand, looks like one of those grandmas you see on reality tv or making the news because they picked up a new hobby late in life and are actually good at it. I wouldn’t be surprised if we go down to the workout room and find it well-used because our Gram’s decided to keep up with the fitness.”

He had to admit, she had him intrigued.

“Alright, then,” he said, “let’s go check it out and see for ourselves. Ladies first.”

She turned and walked out of the kitchen. He grabbed two pieces of cheese to eat on the way, and followed her out.

As they were walking the maze of hallways, Orer realized he actually didn’t know how to get to the basement.

“How do you even know where to go?” he asked.

“The search for wifi proved very fruitful, even if I don’t get the chance to connect my phone,” was her only reply. “How’s that project for Gram going?”

“Gram postponed it,” he said. “That’s how I ended up in the library, reading a book.”

“I guess she’s always had a way of keeping us entertained,” Kena said. “Somehow she manages to get both of us to spend our mornings doing what we like best.”

“Oh? And what have you been doing?”

She turned and smiled at him. “Trying on all of Gram’s latest cosmetics, of course. No Velveteen, but her brands aren’t so bad. Pretty impressive, for an old lady. It turns out one of her best friends here has their own line.”

“You do know what ‘velveteen’ means, right?” Orer couldn’t help himself.

“What, velvet?”

“No, velveteen is a faux velvet. Cheaper and uglier.”

“Well, it smells good. I’m gonna keep wearing it, fake or not.”

Orer shook his head. He wasn’t going to argue about a topic Kena thought she had expertise in. “Fair enough.”

They had reached a large oak door, and Kena grabbed the handle.

“Ready to find out some secrets?” she asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Together, they began the descent down.