Ranvir stayed out of the school as much as possible for the next week. He showed up for the classes and the minimal amount of administrative work he could get away with. He let the students work on their solutions in peace.
He only stopped for the brief meeting he’d ended up canceling after staying home with Frija and Vasso. The thirty minutes boiled down to warning the students, explaining the plan and, in a month’s time, limiting their outside time. Any who wanted to leave could, but they were also free to stay.
Pashar predicted that most wouldn’t leave immediately. It’s difficult going from working, then having everything paid for, and finally to work again. The Elusrian students, who’d spent the last four or five years glorifying combat, would then talk them up. Likely, someone like Morphos would even out expectations and most would stay.
By the end of the week, everyone remained. Ranvir wasn’t sure if Pashar’s theory panned out, but she walked around with a smug look on her face. Kirs and Dovar were supposedly extremely busy with the Ankirian commander, which was what she wanted and what he needed.
As for Ranvir himself, he spent the days with his kids. Vasso only returned with him briefly, apparently feeling a little overexposed after Laila’s treatment over the last few days. Ranvir couldn’t blame him. After some experimentation with her new power, she’d taken his and Kasos’ warning to heart, treating Vasso like he was made of glass.
Ranvir rented out a big boat, large enough to support even the weight of Menace and took the kids fishing. He wasn’t an accomplished fisherman. The first time he’d seen a lake was a brief glimpse he’d caught on the trip to the academy, and the next time was on Korfyi.
But the weather was great. The water was clear enough that Frija could examine all the ‘fishies’ that swam beneath them. Vasso quickly learned the age-old trick of men, ‘no thoughts, only relax.’ Fishing rods set aside, they relaxed in cushioned seats, looking across the water and enjoying the sights.
Occasionally, Frija would exclaim over a particularly colorful fish, once even spotting something long and slithery that stretched from one end of the boat to the other. Menace was surprisingly calm about getting on the boat, especially once they stopped rowing. Apparently, the breed were natural swimmers.
Ranvir could hardly credit the idea. Menace was quickly approaching three-hundred pounds. It had largely stopped growing, or at least slowed down. But the kitty was still packing on weight like it had been starved for a decade. According to the records, the biggest beskarian hill cat was four-hundred pounds and seven feet long. Hopefully, Menace wouldn’t follow in those footsteps.
Ranvir slowly adapted to the waters, changing his and Vasso’s throws, aiming for the waters the fish gathered. Which meant at one point they began catching fish, and then he had to figure out what to do from there.
Once the first one came on the boat, caught by Vasso, it flopped on the wood helplessly. About half the size of Vasso’s forearm, it wasn’t putting up too much of a fuzz. After a bit of hesitation, Vasso clubbed it once, and it fell still. Nearly still. The gills kept moving as the fins twitched occasionally, but it was dead.
However, explaining that to Frija took some time. She understood that this was food, but she did not like that it kept moving. Thankfully, he’d brought a solution that always seemed to cheer the little girl up. Snacks! Specifically, for Menace.
There was nothing Frija enjoyed more than treating her kitty well. When she picked the fish, she grimaced at the feel of the scales. Vasso began laughing so hard he had to put down his water, as she continued grimacing and petting the dead fish. Until Menace just snubbed it right out of her fingers.
She gasped and stared at her bare hands, fingers still wet. The fish was simply gone. Inhaled before she even realized what happened. Menace chuffed so loudly the water around the boat rippled.
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And then she started crying again, and Vasso just about started dying of laughter. Ranvir spent precious minutes comforting his baby girl as Menace pawed around, looking for more food.
Soon enough, there was a bite on Ranvir’s line. This time it went better. Frija didn’t cry when they killed it and she fed it to Menace before he ate it out of her hands. By the fourth fish, she wanted to kill it. Ranvir reminded them they still had to bring back enough to eat themselves.
Which was the only time their trip grew even remotely dangerous. When Ranvir, instead of feeding the indulgent cat, packed the fish away, Menace surged to its feet and roared ‘til it rang in their ears. The move nearly unbalanced the boat and Ranvir narrowly kept everyone within inside whilst forcing Menace down.
For the last two hours of fishing, the kitten moaned so loudly three fishermen came to check on them, worried they were being attacked. Ranvir took the opportunity to ask for recipes.
At home, he prepared the food. Fish was actually great! At least, Ranvir thought so. He’d probably tried it a couple times during his convalescence at the orphanage, but he’d not cooked with it since.
Vasso was ambivalent about it. Not his favorite, but he didn’t mind. Frija did not like it at all. In fact, she snuck most of her food to Menace, as evidenced by the slightly tipped table and one ear poking above the lip. It also chuffed loudly each time she fed another bite.
Ranvir couldn’t determine if she really thought they weren’t noticing, or she didn’t care. Surely, Vasso thought he was going unnoticed. He was not only subtler but more clever than Frija. He only snuck Menace fish when she did, her being so obvious anyone else might not have seen him.
For tonight, that was alright. He also wondered if his sense of taste had been augmented by Graywing. If fish tasted that cook and he’d tried it before, he’d have remembered it.
Surely he would have.
But maybe it was just this breed, cooked in this way. That might also be it, though he wouldn’t bet on it. He was not a good enough cook to pull that off. Or maybe it wasn’t something special to pull off. Might’ve been accidental genius. Or maybe he was overthinking, worried that he wasn’t as human as he’d once been. That he was now questioning his every experience with a fine-toothed comb, picking it over for signs that he was or wasn’t the same person.
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“What is it, Ranvir?” Amalia asked.
The week had gone by quickly for Ranvir. Spending time with his children had caused the days to flyby. They’d spent a couple days in Limclea’s capital, seeing the sights, visiting a natural arts museum.
“Have you been to Nysada recently?” Ranvir asked, as he gestured for her to follow him.
“No,” she admitted. “Though I promised I’d visit next month…” she trailed off, wincing. “In two weeks, actually. So can I have like a couple days off?” having spent so much time with Elpir and the orphans, Amalia understood the concept of ‘puppy-eyes’ extremely well, even if she’d never seen a dog before.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Nice!” she fist bumped the air. “Now I just have to tell Elpir.” Enough time had passed since their wedding that neither ran around in their traditional chitons anymore, but Amalia still wore night-black stones in her ears, matching the ones in Elpir’s. “Sorry, you mentioned Nysada, I assume for a different reason.”
Ranvir nodded, unlocked the door to the basement levels.
“Are you taking me downstairs to murder me?”
Rolling his eyes, Ranvir shoved her into the stairway. “Don’t be silly. I’d put you in a pocket-space.”
“Oh well, that’s good to know.” She stopped suddenly, throwing an elbow back. Ranvir stepped around, smushing her into the wall. Grumbling, she followed him down, cleverly not picking any more fights. “So what was it about Nysada?”
“Right, there was a… an odd air about the place when we visited.” They stepped into the bottom basement, the glyph-lights tinted by the shine coming from within. “Like you’re pretending everything is normal, instead of everything being normal, you know?”
“I guess, I… Ranvir, what is—is that a knotting point?” She missed the last step, cursing as she stumbled forward. She grabbed one of her sentinel tools, examining the readings. “Did you make this?”
Ranvir nodded. “I nearly spent a month limping afterward.”
“How in Abyss did you manage that?” she glanced back at him. Leaving the unspoken to hover in the air between them. ‘Second-Order.’
“With much difficulty and pain.”
“There are three,” she noted, picking out the knots.
Ranvir nodded. “That’s why I brought you here. In case something should happen. The school becomes indefensible. You need to break them in that order. And you will be deposited on Korfyi.”
“Are you certain?”
“It might tear apart entirely, but as certain as I can be.”
“That’s not comforting.” Amalia looked at him. Her features seemed to age in the purple light. “I better not have to use these, Ranvir.”
If she needed to, then that meant he wouldn’t be there.
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“Shouldn’t?”