Clelia woke up and she immediately realised she wasn't in her bed. She squinted her eyes, looked around, and couldn't distinguish any of the shapes and lights that surrounded her as anything familiar. Eventually, she remembered that she no longer was in her family's castle, and that the prior evening she had gone to sleep in her new home for the foreseeable future. She reached for her glasses on the night table and scanned the room, faintly illuminated through the window shutters. Aside from herself and the single bed she was currently occupying, the only thing in the small but cosy room was some of her still-to-unpack luggage.
She remembered being somewhat uneasy at the thought of having to share a bed with a boy she barely knew, even if he was her husband, but fortunately voicing that concern had been unnecessary, since Damian himself had proposed her to sleep in separate beds and separate rooms, at least for the time being. Needless to say, she had accepted the proposal with no small amounts of relief.
When she got out of the room she was wearing a long pale green dress, much simpler than the extravagant wedding gown she had the day prior. On her head, she had another pointy hat, one that matched her dress colour, embroidered with the shape of spiderwebs. The small, quiet corridor just outside of her room felt so different from the huge, cold stone spaces she was used to. Instead of the massive tapestries hanging on every wall of the castle, Clelia could only see some small frames with modest painting representing rural scenes. Instead of the never ending bustling activity of servitude and the rest of her mother's court, nothing outside of her footsteps seemed to produce any sound.
Right next to her room's door, there was another one, identical in almost every detail, which Damian had told her was his. She wondered if he was awake too, considering whether or not she should knock and find out. Eventually, she decided not to, and chose to go downstairs instead, to explore what would be, for the foreseeable future, her new living spaces.
She had been under the impression that she and Damian would go and live with his entire extended family, which was custom in fairy society, but instead Damian's family had given them one among several small houses in a little neighbourhood next to the factory that they owned. Apparently, his family owned the whole neighbourhood too and those houses were where the workers lived.
On one hand, not having to deal with too many new people at once was a very welcome prospect. On the other hand, though, the living spaces were so small, compared to what she was used to, that they felt somewhat cramped. As she stepped on a squeaky step on her way down, her shoulders stiffened. After all, it appeared that the quiet was a little unnerving too, in its own way.
She found Damian sitting at the dinner table, reading some booklet while drinking out of a white mug. Judging by the faint aroma pervading the room, she guessed the content of the mug to be some kind of infusion. The dining room was a bit bigger than her bedroom and had open access to the kitchen. On one side of the room, she spotted a shrine with a low relief of what looked like a human man and a human woman in funny clothes, plus a snake beneath the both of them.
Damian acknowledged her with a poised wave of his hand, still holding the booklet. "Ah, good morning. Did you sleep well?"
She heedlessly nodded. She had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting in bed, tired as she was, but had then been woken up a few times by anxious dreams before finally completely passing out until morning, eventually. Still, she didn't feel like getting into that conversation with him.
"Glad to hear that." He gulped down the remainder of the mug's content and then laid down on the table everything he was holding, so he could interlock his fingers and face her. "Sit down, please."
After she did as he had asked, he started, "There is enough tea for you in the kettle over there, in the kitchen, and the entire pantry is yours to browse for breakfast. Before that, though, I'd like to present with you a few short-term plans concerning our life as newly-weds."
She furrowed her brows. "Why not having the discussion over breakfast instead?"
"Because I'm in a bit of a hurry, unfortunately, and I only have a few points to present to you. We'll be able to discuss them more thoroughly later, that was the original plan in fact, but seeing that you're up, I feel that anticipating some of it now may give you some time to ponder before having the full discussion."
"What hurry?"
He sighed. "If you recall, my family and I actually wanted to have the wedding in winter, it was your mother who insisted on having it in late summer. It's a bit of a messy time for us, for me especially, and having just wed doesn't absolve me from certain things I need to do. I'm starting a new course of study and, right now, there's a lot of bureaucracy and meetings I can't avoid. I would have much preferred having the wedding at a date that allowed me to just dedicate some time together with you, so we could get to know each other, but to meet your mother's demands that wasn't possible."
Clelia nodded again. Getting married in winter wasn't that strange in faerie culture, so she suspected that her mother insisting on having a different wedding date from what the humans proposed was done on purpose just to inconvenience them. Very typical of her.
She leaned against the back of the chair, in a way that would have earned her a scolding for being inelegant back at home. "Go on then, I'm listening."
"First point," he raised a finger, "the honeymoon."
She blinked a few times, confused. "The what now?"
"In the last few decades, it's become somewhat of a tradition for the newly-weds to go on a vacation trip together immediately following the wedding, but, due to the timing concerns I was just talking about, that won't be possible. We have a trip scheduled for the middle of winter, at the turn of the new year, to make up for it. We'll go and visit some distant relatives that weren't able to participate to the ceremony."
What did any of that have to do with honey and moons, though? She wanted to ask, but failed to muster the energy to do it.
"Second point," he raised a second finger, "housekeeping. For the time being, we won't be able to get any hired help, so the two of us are going to be on our own, and our home will be our responsibility. We'll have to figure out a fair way to split the labour. For example, I may be wrong in doing so, but I assume that you probably don't know how to cook, right?"
She avoided his gaze. "No, I don't."
He nodded. "That's fine, I expected that. Considering the size of your family's castle and how much servitude you seemed to have, I imagined you'd always find all meals ready. No matter though, it happens that I'm a passable cook myself, so I'll be able to have that covered and, if you want, to teach you. When we'll have the full conversation later, we'll discuss all other aspects of housekeeping as well."
Beforehand, she had given no thought to stuff like that, but him mentioning it made her realise that those were real concerns in the absence of a whole legion of servants to do all of that necessary work. Now she felt like their living space being small could actually come in handy.
"Finally, and after this I'll have to go, unfortunately, we'll have to introduce you to the neighbourhood, have you meet some of the people you'll be meeting on the regular from now on, and help you find your place around here. As for today, until I come back in a few hours, you're free to do as you please. In my study, right next to our rooms, you can find my personal library; feel free to browse it to your heart's content, if reading is something you enjoy. You'll notice that there's one more room aside from my study and our bedrooms: it is completely empty and you'll be able to fill it up however you want. If you feel like it, you can give it a look and start thinking how you intend to use it."
That wasn't even a question for her: she'd be setting up her loom and all of her weaving material there. Not being a very powerful fairy and not living with her family anymore were no excuses to neglect spell-crafting altogether.
"Is there anything you need to ask me before I go?"
She shook her head.
"Then, I'm afraid it's time for me to go. If you need anything or have any trouble at all, go knock on the door right in front of us: my aunt lives there and she'll be glad to help. In fact, feel free to go and have a conversation with her, I'm sure she'd be happy to get some company."
As he got up and gathered a few things, including the booklet he had been reading before she came and a briefcase she hadn't noticed before, he added, "I expect I'll be back in time to put something together for lunch, so wait for me."
After he had left, Clelia went to the kitchen to help herself with some tea. If someone had asked her what she expected from her first day of marriage, she really wouldn't have been able to respond, because she had no idea of what kind of expectation was realistic to have. And yet, despite her lack of any specific expectation, she couldn't help but feel… underwhelmed. The conversation she just had with her new husband was a very reasonable one to have, necessary even. She couldn't think of any reason to not have that kind of conversation with him, and it would have been unreasonable to expect him not to fulfil any other duty he might have had before getting married, so there was no reason to be mad about him leaving her alone.
And yet, she couldn't help but feel that that conversation had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.
A sudden booming gravely voice coming from behind startled her out of her musings. "Can you believe it, Calpurnia? A young wife who can't cook. What is the world coming to? Why, I swear in the good old days…"
She quickly turned towards the source of the voice and saw that the figures in the shrine had started talking between them.
"In the good old days what, you big oaf?" Responded the woman figure in the low relief, fiercely placing her hands on her hips, "I've been hearing you yammer on about the good old days since the day that I met you, when were these good old days, exactly?"
The man figure waved his hands around with agitation. "You know what I mean, woman, back when…"
"Don't you 'woman' me, you old sponge." She admonished with her finger.
Beneath them, the snake engraving shook its head and sighed, "Oh man, here they go again…"
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
"Um, hello?" Clelia waved, hesitantly.
"Hello what? Is this how you brats these days are taught to address the Lares of the house? What will the world come to, I swear…"
"Lares, Lares… Ah!" Clelia snapped her fingers in realisation, "You must be the spirit protectors of the hearth, right? I did hear that humans had those, but never actually met any before."
"What do you mean 'humans'," croaked the man figure, "are you trying to tell me you're not human?"
"Yes, that's correct. I'm a fairy." She confirmed, adjusting her glasses.
"Fairy or no fairy," intervened the woman figure, "it's very rude to just waltz in a new home, as a newly-wed wife, without giving an offering to the local Lar of the Crossroad. I heard from Priscilla and she said you didn't stop to give her an offering. What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"
"See what I mean, Calpurnia?" The man started again, "These young generations…"
Calpurnia interrupted him. "You shut up."
"I didn't know that an offering was required," Clelia tried to explain, "I never heard of anything like that back home. In fact, if anything, passing travellers sometimes left offerings on the crossroads to us, hoping that we wouldn't curse their travels or make them lose the way. What kind of offering was I supposed to give?"
"Well," Calpurnia started, waving harshly one finger while her other hand was still on her hip, "since you married into the Neumann family and come from a family who lives in a castle, you'd have to offer at minimum three cunias, at the shrine of the Lar of the Crossroad."
Clelia scratched her head, confused. "Three… what now?"
"Are you serious?" Laughed the little man figure.
"Cunias!" Calpurnia threw her hands in the air, "Three golden coins! Money! Do you not know what those are?"
Clelia backed up a couple of steps because of their aggressive reaction. "Coins? You mean those little round metallic things that humans are obsessed with? I've only ever saw one of those displayed as a curiosity at another fairy's castle."
That stopped the little man's hearty laughter. "What, do fairies not have money?"
"Why would we? I mean, what do you even do with money?"
"Well, you trade it for food, drinks, housing, ice cream, pretty much everything," the man continued, "do you fairies not exchange things for other things?"
Clelia shrugged. "We mostly trade favours. Boons in exchange for service and assistance, curses in exchange for violations and offences."
"Anyway," interrupted Calpurnia, "I suppose that, if you didn't even know what money was, you wouldn't have any with you, right?"
"Right." Clelia confirmed.
"That's a problem," sighed the little woman, "because the Lar of the Crossroad wants an offering and it's not going to be pretty if they don't get it."
Clelia didn't ask what would happen if she didn't provide the required offering: she had dealt with spirits and faerie all her life, so she knew better than to disobey the customs on how to treat them. "So, how do I procure some of this money thing?"
The neighbourhood was small. Even including the factory, the school, and the hall, it was smaller than the terrain over which Clelia's mother's castle stood. There were a few dozen houses, most of which identical to her new home. A white cloud of smoke came out of the factory's tall chimneys. Clelia walked on the stone paving of the central street cutting it in half, which led to the hall where the day prior they had the reception party and, close by, the school where the children of the workers got their education.
She thought she heard a strange noise, but before she was able to focus on it, a nasal voice came from the little purse she was carrying with her. "Hahah! Yes, fear us you puny mortals! I can see you cowering from us even from here!"
"Be quiet, please." Clelia whispered to the snake hidden in it.
The Lares had instructed their snake thingy, named Horatius apparently, to accompany Clelia, both to keep an eye on her and to aid her in her quest. She wasn't too happy about the idea of having to go to her in-laws and ask them for some money, but, like the Lares pointed out, since she didn't have any, it was only right for them to provide it, since they accepted her in their family.
In any case, it was true that people around the neighbourhood, mostly women and children, seemed to still be wary of her, to the point that some got back in their home when they saw her walking around. She even saw one elderly lady doing some weird gestures with her hand, moving it quickly and repeatedly from her heart up to her forehead, then back down to her stomach, while muttering something to herself.
Trying to dissimulate the fact that she was talking to someone, she cautiously asked, "Horatius, what is that lady doing?"
The little snake in her purse responded, "That is a gesture that puny mortals use to summon upon them the favours of the Lord of Light, asking Him to protect them from evil."
Clelia snickered. "So, she's asking to be protected from me?"
A tiny scaly head emerged from the purse, just enough to look back at her with its round eyes. "Do you find it humorous, little fairy, that measly insignificant humans find magical creatures, like you, and powerful majestic spirits, such as I, to be terror-inducing?"
"A little, yes." She confirmed. "I wonder if I can have some fun with that, in the future."
"As you should," Horatius nodded in approval with its tiny head, "humans are an endless source of amusement, what with their ridiculous fears and worries."
Clelia heard that strange rustling noise again, but it stopped as soon as she tried to turn around to investigate. Unaware, Horatius continued with his spiel. "Exalted beings, the likes of us, have no need for such things, and it is only natural to derive… hey watch out!"
Clelia stopped barely in time to avoid bumping into a pudgy middle-aged woman, distracted as she was by the conversation.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll move out of the way," the woman said.
"Yeah, you'd better, you trifling hum…" hissed Horatius, before Clelia's hand shoved him down into the purse.
"Don't apologise, I was distracted," responded Clelia with a practised smile.
The woman, who wore a simple black and red dress and a white bonnet, responded in kind. "You must be the fairy everyone is talking about, right? The new Madame Neumann."
It was then that Clelia noticed the woman's accent, which sounded heavily Oitanic.
"Are you taking a walk to familiarise yourself with the village? I can be your guide, if you want to."
Clelia raised her hands to stop her. "That won't be necessary, I'm just headed for the master's house, to my in-laws, as I need to talk to them."
"I've seen that you're carrying with you the serpent from your home's Lararia, which, I must say, is a little unusual for a visit to your in-laws." The woman noted.
Horatius' head burst out of the purse once more. "That's right, mortal, bow down before my might!"
The woman smiled and gently patted the snake on the head. "How lovely, I'm sure you'd be good friends with my own Lararia's guardian serpent."
At first, Horatius seemed to enjoy the pats, but then he hissed again, "I require not such frivolities, I command your respect and fear!"
Ignoring his protests, the woman bowed slightly her head to Clelia. "I am Madame Guillardine, I live in the house right next to yours."
Clelia straightened her back, the way she had been taught. "My pleasure, I'm Clelia of the Arania gens… well, I'm Clelia Neumann now, I suppose. I'm not used to thinking that, in human custom, it's the woman to become part of the man's family, it's a little counter-intuitive."
For a brief moment, Madame Guillardine's jaw dropped when Clelia mentioned the name of her gens, but then smiled and bowed again. "You come from quite an impressive name. I should have guessed from the cobweb motifs on your hat, after all, but I just didn't think I'd ever see one of your gens being married to a human."
Clelia fiddled with the temple of her glasses, looking away. "I thank you for your kindness, but I really think I should be on my way. I still have business to attend to."
The woman performed a curtsy. "Of course, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you, Clelia. And don't forget: if you need anything, I'll be right next door."
As Madame Guillardine walked away, Horatius whispered, "How odd."
Clelia readjusted her hat and glasses. "What's odd?"
"Humans aren't often familiar with faerie families."
"It is my understanding that my mother is quite notorious even among humans, so I don't see how that's odd."
The snake spoke with an uncharacteristic serious tone. "Individual fairies, if powerful enough, can become notorious, I'm not denying that, but family names and how they relate to decorations on your clothing are way beyond what can be expected from foolish mortals to care about. Also, human women tend to cower in fear when they see a serpent, while she, on the other hand, patronised me!"
"Ah, so that's the real problem." Clelia shoved him back down into the purse. "You're just mad she didn't show any reverence toward you. Now stay quiet: if it's true that human women are frightened by snakes, you should try not to be seen too much. After all, people around here already seem to be frightened enough of me as is, I don't need to give them another reason."
He didn't respond, but she could hear him grumble from inside his hiding place.
As she was getting past the main square of the neighbourhood, where the hall, the school, and even a small church could be found, Clelia stopped a moment to take notice of the shrine for the Lar of the Crossroad: it was bigger than the one in her new home's dining room, and, instead of being in low relief, every figure was fully sculpted. On one side, she could see a small opening, presumably where she would have to place her offering once she had it.
Before continuing in the direction of her in-law's house, Clelia heard that strange noise again, this time a little more clearly. Now she was almost positive it was the sound of tiny feet rapidly tapping on the ground. She discreetly summoned her wand from a loose thread in her dress, trying to remember if she had some kind of inhibiting spell somewhere in her luggage back home, but she was pretty sure that she did bring with her some basic stuff like that.
Instead of proceeding toward her destination, she headed in the direction of a small, quiet alley.
From her purse, she heard Horatius' nasal voice again. "Hey, where are you going? Your in-laws' house is…"
"Quiet." She interrupted him.
As soon as she heard the teeny steps following her, she rapidly turned around and pointed her wand at whatever was causing the sound.
"Stop where you are!" She commanded.
That's when she finally saw them. Three minuscule humanoid figures, with small pointy hats, wrinkly skin, and long noses, fell on top of each other in order to try and obey her order. Those were lutin, no doubt about that, probably the ones that had caused a bit of a commotion during her reception the day prior.
"Why are you following me? Explain yourselves." Clelia demanded, still pointing her wand at them.
The three of them started whining in unison, all in the low faerie dialect, so she was unable to distinguish what any of them was saying.
"One at a time," she interrupted them. She pointed at one of them, "You start."
The one she pointed to started grovelling. "Pardonexcuse us, your ladyships, we din't wants us to bothersturb you. Mines names is Martìn, him'ses is Bepìn, and her'ses is Piera."
"Why were you following me?"
The second one, who was still standing, hid his hands behind his back and his feet started fidgeting around. "We just learnered out that a fairy ladyships wus in the vicinhoods. We din't knows the partyfeast in yestertime wus of ladyshipses."
The third one, whom Clelia noticed was wearing a dress, spoke with a croaky feminine voice, joining her hands in a begging gesture. "We wantsered to comes and apoloxcuse for our prankstery of yestertimes, but we wus afrightnenered of approachering your ladyships."
Horatius peeped out of Clelia's purse and whispered, "Do you understand a word of what they're saying?"
Clelia nodded. "I understand their dialect a little, though I wouldn't be able to speak it myself."
She then addressed the three sprites, trying her best to fake a harsh scowl. "Listen closely. Yesterday I offered you some milk as a sign of peace. However, I cannot lie, I am crossed at you for trying to ruin my feast, in the very day of my wedding no less."
The three creatures gasped and whimpered. Clelia proceeded. "But I am new here and you clearly didn't know, therefore I intend to be magnanimous."
The lutin raised their heads to meet her gaze, with a hopeful smile. "So," she continued, "in exchange for my forgiveness, I want you to accept a bargain. You'll be my help around my new house, and I'll be your protector, if you don't already have one."
The three tiny figures jumped and hollered joyfully. The one who presented himself as Martìn responded enthusiastically, "Oh, we acceptsagree your bargainpact with joyppiness. Canses we gives our handssistance someways even at presentnow?"
The young fairy smirked. "There might be something."