For the record, Tarquin, Annalea and Lorelli made significant edits and they made this piece awesome. Furthermore, I am indebted to Tarquin as he gave Bricu the last “word.” That was not my initial intention, and I am grateful that he nailed Bricu down so very well.
–
The bloodiest war that Stormwind never cared about ended at a round table that sat eight.

Next to the gaunt man with straw-colored hair and a simple, but beautifully constructed wide brimmed hat, was a grim looking ginger bastard and a petite, wicked -eyed blonde. Next to her was a night elf woman with green hair who would not stop smirking. Around the other half of the table sat a gnomish woman with dead eyes, a human woman looking uncomfortable in a simple, homespun dress and Draenei man who was unremarkable aside from the series of tattoos across his face and tentacles. To his left, and the gnome’s right, was a vacant chair.

“I think we can all agree that today has been a long time coming, and I, for one, am exceedingly happy to move beyond this dark…” Said the draenei before the ginger bastard cut him off.

“Where the fuck is Angel?” he said.

“The Angel could not be here today, as he had pressing matters of business to attend to given our preliminary agreements…” the Draenei responded. The activity on the other side of the table drowned out his words.

The man in the very fine hat might’ve made a gesture to his fellows. Maybe he was just adjusting his position. Either way, the blonde and the elf stood up, while the ginger bastard leveled a finger and began shouting.

“Fuck this. Yeh said he’d be here. All the major players we’re gonna be here. Now yer boss is too wrapped up in shite ta be here? Then we’re done.”

“Please, there is no need for this situation to devolve further, I am perfectly capable of addressing his requests and demands.” The draenei said calmly.

“That means sit your ass down before we kill you.” The gnome said softly.

“Adorable, isn’t she?” The elf said to the blonde. “In a creepy-porcelain-doll of death kind of way.”

“My family isn’t too keen on spooky dolls,” the blonde responded. She squinted at the now scowling gnome. “But I can see it.”

“Yeh lot ir eh pair o’right cle’er twists. I’d b’a right fookin’ pleasure ta rip out yer fuckin’ tongues.” The woman in the homespun dress said. As she stood up from the table, she drew a wicked curved knife.

“That’s all?” The elf said, drawing two straight edged daggers. “I’m disappointed, sweetheart.”

The man in the very fine hat put his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands, looking as bored as if they were talking shipping.

“Enough!” The draenei shouted. “If you insist, I will find him.”

“Boyo, I think we insist.” Bricu said.

The draenei stood up from the table, and motioned for his companions to sit down. They complied, albeit far from willingly. Bricu made a similar motion to Lorelli and Annalea. Annalea stood behind her chair, while Lorelli put her daggers on the table and sat back down. For his part, Bricu leaned against the wall behind Tarquin.

“So.” He said, “If it’s gonna take our friend a long time ta get Angel, we should get at know each other. What’s yer names lasses?”

“Fook off.” The woman said. The gnome said nothing at all.

“Right then. Fook off an’ Glower it is.” Bricu said.

“Figure we should just enjoy some quiet time, Bric.” Lorelli said.

Bricu snorted. Tarquin said nothing.

–

The room was silent for some minutes while they awaited the return of the Draenei and Angel. Tarquin rested his head, Annalea smiled sweetly at the gnome. Lorelli sat sideways in her chair, legs crossed not looking at any of them. Bricu watched the door. Glower and Fook Off conferred with each other, but in hushed tones that even Lorelli struggled to hear.

The draenei entered first. He carried himself taller and straighter, and he smirked as he sat back in his chair.

The Angel was a few feet behind him. He was taller than Tarquin, with Bricu’s broad shoulders and something of Lorelli’s predatory grace, and the innocent, almost beautiful face of a marble statue. He stood behind his chair and smiled at everyone at his table, like he was welcoming them to dinner and they had only to partake of his bounty. His blue eyes rested on Tarquin.

“Master ap Danwyrith, it is truly a pleasure to sit here with you. May I stand?” Angel said. His voice was as rich and clear as a note on a viola.

Tarquin, by comparison, sounded rusty and tired when he spoke for the first time in that room. “Sit, stand, long as we talk.” Bricu took his seat next to Tarquin, and Lore put away her knives. Annalea leaned forward and studied each face at the table carefully. She did not flinch when they made eye contact–instead, she smiled brightly before winking at the Draenei.

“Please, continue.” Annelea said, “We’re all ears.”

The Angel was stone-still, but not stiff or awkward; a man who moved, and could be moved, only when he allowed it so. “I will state the obvious, on the chance that it is not. This conflict has grown beyond reason and profit. I have lost valuable resources.” His three confidants, employees, or henches had no overt reaction to being referred to, by implication, as resources, but Annalea smiled at them all when the Angel said that. “Yet you are not invulnerable, and your people have learned that.” It was his turn to smile, at Lorelli, who looked back with searing, white-hot blankness.

“There’s none o’ us dead,” said Bricu with a sneer. “An’ a whole fuckin’ pile o’ yer best gone ta the dirt. So don’t yeh talk like it’s even, huh?”

Again that soft smile. “Yes, I am sure the judges place you firmly ahead on points. Nevertheless, that you are here at all speaks to the danger of your position.” He stared at Tarquin. “You have few of your Riders to lose, and fewer still that you can afford to lose. I, on the other hand…” He spread his hands. “There are always violent people with more debts than sense. Your luck cannot hold out forever, Master ap Danwyrith.”

The silence would have been oppressive, to a different eight people. All of these, on either side of the table, were well used to it. Finally Tarquin rolled his neck and shrugged. “Obvious. As yeh said. An’ so wir here fir terms.”

The Angel didn’t exactly relax, physically, but there was a lessening of that thick tension in the air. “Let us discuss those vaunted terms. Simply, we will continue to sell our product, as long as we remain outside of Old Town.”

“Aye.” Bricu said.

“In return for this, you won’t…”

“Deal with unmentionables in a clean, quick and terribly efficient fashion.” Lorelli stated matter-of-factly. “We are professionals.”

“And if we say no to these terms?”

The Riders glanced at each other, and one by one each pair of eyes travelled to Tarquin. “Then we’re back where we was, big lad,” said the northman. “Yir people try an’ do business in Auld Town, an’ we float thim home in the canals. We kin keep it up till someone runs outay mates -” he opened his fists and spread his hands apart – “or, we kin do business.”

“I see.” If the Angel had a reaction to that, he wasn’t sharing it. “Well then, do we all sign in ink or in something more permanent?”

Annalea rolled her eyes. “This isn’t the opera. Ink.”

Starting with the Angel and ending with his right-hand Draenei, everyone around the table signed the name.

Bricu snorted as the paper passed him. “Yer signin’ this as the Angel?”

“For all intents and purposes, that’s as binding as anything else I would have signed with the name my parents gave me. I intend to enforce this agreement severely. In fact, my organization is aware of how I will enforce discipline on this issue.”

Fook off, who signed her name as Clara Hunt, shuddered at the mention of discipline. The Draenei paled, but the gnome gave no indication of any concern.

“Discipline is good.” Lore said, “It should make sure we all play nicely.”

Glower turned her gaze to Loreli, “I agree,” she whispered, just loud enough for the room to hear; “Fire makes for excellent discipline.”

The room was quiet for more than a few moments. Finally, Tarquin broke the silence.

“So that’s us set, then, is it?”

“I suppose it is.” The Angel looked around at them, smiling like a plaster saint. “Until our business conflicts again. We may well see each other at this table in years to come, Master ap Danwyrith – and those of your associates who are still able to join you.” Bricu bristled, but it was Lorelli who spoke.

“Trust me, I fully intend to outlive you and yours. And by quite some time at that.”

Angel looked over Loreli. Glower simply snickered.

“Miss Tymara, this is not a threat but a fact, with figures. One in your line of work doesn’t grow old gracefully.” He looked almost sad about it. “In fact, likely none of you will grow old. You can cheat death only for so long before she claims what is hers…and I am certain you are each far, far in the red.”

Silence weighed down the room for a long moment. Again, there was some signal from Tarquin that might as well have been a slight shift in his seat; Bricu put an already-rolled cigarette in his hand, and Annalea leaned in on his other side with a light. “I take that ta mean, mate, that yeh’ll be waitin’ when the books are due ta be balanced.”

The Angel inclined his head. “It’s just good business.”

Tarquin took a long drag while the Angel waited with ironic patience, his subordinates following his lead. These things had a form, after all. Finally Tarquin ejected two jets of smoke from his nostrils and spoke.

“S’pose so. Only – I’m no’ really a businessman, big lad. None ay us are, proper. Did yeh ken that?” He stood, and the Riders stood with him – Bricu hard-eyed and sneering, Lorelli stretching like a well-fed jungle cat, Annalea’s gaze flickering between faces and her mouth crooked in a slight smirk.

The Angel answered, after a pause, his smile just this side of wary. “I can’t say I’d thought much one way or the other about it, Master ap Danwyrith. But we are doing business – so if not, what then?”

Tarquin pulled the cigarette from his mouth and smiled, a white wide fence that kept in things better not considered. “Nutters,” he said, almost happily, and extended his free hand to the two women. “Murderin’ witches. Red-handed savages. [i]Mad bastards[/i].” He dropped the stub of cigarette and laughed. “Shite, big lad, think I set out ta live like this? None ay us did – it’s the only friggin’ thing we got left. An’ yeh want ta try an’ take it? Guid luck t’yeh.”

The Angel couldn’t help but smile back, or at least, that was the impression he wanted to give. “Why, Master ap Danwyrith, I’ve never been so amiably threatened.”

“Ah, I’m no’ threatenin’ yeh. Hell, we do business again–” Tarquin stepped back, half-turning towards the door. “Bric?”

With a suddenness all the more shocking for how placid the negotiations had been, Bricu stepped into Tarquin’s spot, hands slamming down onto the table, teeth bared, eyes bright and deadly. “We fuckin’ do business again, yeh get me,” snarled the Bittertongue. “The chief’s the fuckin’ businessman. I’m a bloody-minded north country bastard, an’ I don’t care what the fuck it costs, or any o’ that shite!” He swept his eyes across the four of them, Lorelli looming at his shoulder, tongue darting across her lips with an uncomfortably serpentine air.

The Angel had no response, a guarded lack of expression on his face, and none of his anxious lieutenants dared to speak. Again came one of those barely-notable signals from Tarquin, and Annalea smiled sunnily. “A pleasure, you lot,” she purred, and linked arms with Tarquin, the two of them heading to the door. Lorelli took two long steps backward, turned gracefully, and followed.

Bricu was the last out, but not before making a wet death-rattle in his throat and gobbing mucus across the Angel’s pristine table. “Come on if yeh think yer hard enough,” he said, leaving the challenge and the splitting behind him as he turned on his heel and walked after his fellows. Annalea gave the Angel a last lingering, unreadable look, and closed the door behind him.

And then the war was done.

Bricu and Threnn have been married now for five years. Why do I play WoW still? Because I play with amazing people.

Bricu arrived at Threnn’s apartment at a quarter past seven, a full fifteen minutes early. He resisted the urge to roll up the sleeves of his red shirt–the same shirt Delion the Tailor had fussed over for nearly an hour–and rolled a cigarette to calm his nerves. He stood outside the apartment and gathered his thoughts. He started chuckling from the first memory.

“You simply do not understand, Bricu.” Delion said, “The difficulties involved with making garments like this. To mar its perfection by rolling up the sleeves is unthinkable. It is simply blaise.”

“But mate, it’ll get fuckin’ hot in the barn.” Bricu said, “An’ now yer sayin’ I need ta wear a shirt underneath this one?”

“Of course you do! You don’t want to perspire through this shirt! Why, you’d be a laughing stock! More importantly, you would make me a laughing stock!”

“Oh, we woudn’t want that.” Bricu said dryly.

“No, we certainly would not. Now, kind of pants are you wearing with this shirt?” Delion asked. He raised his index finger to his mouth and the side of his nose.

“I was gonna wear the linen…”

“Linen!” Delion yelped, “Are you mad? Oh, that would not do.”

Bricu was dumbstruck. “What?”

“Honestly, this is a harvest event. Textiles matter. Cotton at least, probably more of a cotton-wool blend.” Bricu watched as Delion crossed his arm across his chest, then started tapping his nose with his finger. The tailors eyes darted from Bricu to bolts of fabric neatly organized by textile, color and price, and back to Bricu.
“Yes. That would do nicely. Now, when is this again?”

“T’morrorw.”

“Tomorrow!” Delion shouted. “Oh why would you wait until the last moment to bring this up?” He rushed foward towards Bricu, measuring tape and pins in hand.

“Because they’re soddin’ pants Del. Strweth, they’re supposed ta be comfortable.”

“Honestly Bricu, if comfort was the driving force of fashion, we wouldn’t get out of bed!”

“While Threnny an’ I might call that a party…”

“Keep your sordid affairs with miss Al’Cair to yourself, please. Neither myself nor the Bells would want to hear such details.” Delion interrupted.

“Och, yeh think I”d kiss an’ tell mate? I’m a holy man an’ Threnny’ is a devout servant o’the Light. Such accusations…” Bricu said.

“Bricu.” Delion cut him off. He stopped measuring Bricu’s waist, letting one end of the tape measure fall to the ground, and stood straight, a half head taller than his client. Delion gave Bricuone of his practiced looks, the kind reserved for disreputable merchants and fashion diasters. Bricu continued grinning.

“Spare me the bluster.” He said after a sighing in resignation, “or I might slip and poke you with this pin. Twice. Now hold still, I’m taking your measurements.”

–

The rest of the details–picking up the shirt and pants, having a laugh at, or with Del (Bricu wasn’t exactly sure which)–was as immaterial as the last of his cigarette. What mattered was that he was smartly dressed with someplace to go. He crushed the cigarette underneath his boot and smoothed out the front of his shirt before he knocked on the door to Threnn’s apartment. Nerves aside, he flashed the best grin he could muster.

Bricu picked through the bouquet while waiting for Mrs. Stone, the land lady, to open the front door. Threnn explained that Mr. and Mrs. Stone were fixtures in Old Town, even more beloved than the vaunted Pig and Whistle. When Mr. Stone passed away, she converted the top of her house into apartments. Mrs. Stone did this more for the company and comfort of others, rather than a source of income. The Stones had done quite well for themselves after the Sacking, but they never moved from their family home. Threnn and Annalea treated Mrs. Stone like she was their grandmother, and for good reason. She rented her apartment to the Al’Cair girls well below its going rate, had dinner waiting for them on certain nights and always invited them down for cookies or cake. Mrs. Stone even gave Bricu cookies, after he helped her move a new bed frame into her house.

Eventually, he found one rose whose petals were not yet completely open, and held it out for in front of him. By the time she had opened the door, Bricu had the rest of the bouquet behind his back.

“Bricu, don’t you look dapper!” Mrs. Stone said cordially. She took the flower he offered and said, “Oh dearie, how sweet of you! Roses are my favorite!”

“Mrs. Stone,” Bricu said. He bowed at the waist, as per current court fashion. “I’m just here ta escort the lovely Threnn Al’Cair ta the Longwell’s Harvest ball, an truth be told, I’m just tryin’ ta match her. Although, now I’m havin’ second thoughts…..”

Mrs. Stone’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

“Why, Mrs. Stone.” Bricu said with a grin, “Say the word an’ I’ll take yeh in me Threnny’s place.”

As quickly as her face had fallen, Mrs. Stone burst into laughter.

“Master Bittertongue that is quite enough. Now go on upstairs! Threnn and Annalea are waiting for you”

“Thank yeh Mrs. Stone. Cheers!”

Bricu bounded up the stairs for Threnn’s apartment like a boy half his age. When he reached her door he smoothed out his shirt and pants with his palms. He ran a hand through his hair, either to fix the part in his hair or to calm his nerves. Steady yer self yeh fuckin’ wanker. He though to himself. This isn’t your first lady friend nor is it yer first ball. He rapped on her door gently, chastising himself for still having nerves about her.

It was Annalea who answered the door. It was clear from her modest attire that she was not attending the Longwell’s ball. She was dressed in a plain robes of a Darnassian initiate, and her hair was braided down her back. She did her best to look serious and somber. Even dressed like an initiate, she failed miserably.

“Bricu.” Annie said. Her eyes darted to the bouquet he held in his hands.

“Annie.” He said with a nod.

“Were you being chased upstairs?”

“Strewth, was I that loud?”

“Blessed Elune, we thought the Watch was coming to kick the bloody door down!” She said.

“What were doin’ that yeh feared the Watch?”

“Oh, fear had nothing to do with it. You know Pomeroy has a bit of a crush on Threnny…”

“No, I didn’t.” Bricu said. He paused, momentarily taken aback by this news. “It’s a good thing yeh opened the door then.”

“Really, why is that?”

“Cause otherwise, I’d have ta knock the door in meself. So, who’d yeh piss off ta get prayer duty tanight?” Bricu asked.

“I haven’t pissed anyone off, but I am hoping to practice my Darnassian,” Anna said with a grin that screamed mischief. She moved out of the doorway and let Bricu into the apartment. As he walked in, she looked back at the flowers.

“If you give me just one flower,” she said with the same grin, “I’ll tell you which are her favorites.”

“Sorry Annie, I gave the spare ta Mrs. Stone.”

“So you can’t even give me one flower?”

Bricu looked over his bouquet. “I’ve got some baby’s breath fer yeh.” Bricu said.

“Information like this is extremely important, and here you go offering me a weed? I’m insulted.”

“Lillies. Threnny likes Stargazer Lilies.” Bricu said, “Theresa said they were out o’season, so she gave me a deal for this one.”

Annie’s grin fell slightly, letting Bricu know he was right on the mark. He bit back his customary gloat and smiled. Annalea, slightly crestfallen, asked, “Did you figure that out or did she tell you?”

“A wee bit o’both. I saw her eyin’ some a few weeks back, so I asked ‘er bout ‘em.”

“That’s clever of you.” Annie said.

“I know. ”

“Threnn has a weakness for clever, but she does not approve of cocky..”

“Annie, lass, that ain’t cocky. That’s confident. Confident an’ clever, that’s she’s with me.” Bricu said.

Annalea grinned again. “That’s not the only reason why she’s with you. I’ll go get her, she was having a hell of a time with her hair…”

“You’re not flirting with my paladin, are you?” Threnn shouted from the back room. “You said you had your eyes on that priest…”

Annie rolled her eyes, then shouted back, “He’s not my type. He’s too clever by half.”

Bricu didn’t answer Threnn either. Instead, he tried to look down the hallway, towards the sound of her voice. When he finally saw her, he held his breath for just a moment. She was wearing a deceptively simple blue and white checker patterned homespun dress. The neckline was a tad more revealing than she would normally wear on one of their outings.

“Threnny” Bricu finally said, “yer brilliant.”

“I helped get her ready…” Annie said, but Bricu had already started to move past her. “Her hair…”

“You’re looking quite handsome tonight.” Threnn said

“I also helped with her make-up” Annie said.

“Och, its nothin’ that Delion didn’t fret o’er fer hours on end.” Bricu said.

“Well he did a fine job. It’s perfect for tonight’s party.” Threnn turned her attention to the flowers, “More flowers, for me?”

“Aye. Well, all but one. I did give Mrs. Stone a rose.”

“You didn’t give me any flowers.” Annie quipped.

“Anna.” Threnn said, handing Annalea the bouquet, “Why don’t you be a dear and put these in some water.”

“Sister-mine, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes. And I’m doing it nicely. Now put those flowers in some water, unless you want to watch me thank my gallant paladin for being so thoughtful.”

Annalea grabbed the flowers from Threnn–pausing to take a brilliant, long stemmed yellow rose for herself–and stormed off down the hallway.

“You could have at least included me in the conversation!” She shouted back at her sister.

“Sorry Annie!” Bricu shouted back. “Yer black hearted villain’ o’a sister seduced the manners straight outta me.”

Threnn took a few steps towards Bricu, eyes cast downward. “Do you really think I’m a black hearted villan?” She asked.

“That depends, love, on how yer plannin’ on thankin’ me fer those flowers.”

In response, Threnn closed the distance to Bricu, standing close enough that Bricu could smell the perfume she had in her hair. Threnn, smiling like her sister, draped her arms around his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Bricu leaned slightly, just close enough to whisper.

“This is typically where the villain does somethin’ ta distract our noble hero.”

“Oh, I know what the villain would do, and I could even tell you what this particular villian wants to do.” Threnn whispered back. She nibbled at his ear and kissed down his cheek till she reached his lips. Bricu started to kiss her back, but Threnn pulled her arms off of his shoulders and pushed him away.

“Now that’s black-hearted villainy right there, love.” He said.

“Of course it is. And its all part of my plan. You wouldnt’ to ruin my plans this early, would you?” She asked, grinning wildly.

“That depends.” Bricu said. Threnn was standing at the door, waiting for Bricu to compose himself. He took Threnn’s cloak off its hook and draped it over her shoulders.

“Depends on what?” Threnn asked.

“Depends on how devious yer plans are gonna get.”

Threnn continued walk down the hallway, chuckling all the while. When Bricu caught up with her, just outside the door, she was facing the door way, still smiling.

“Love,” Threnn said, “my plans involve throwing our hapless hero to the villain’s favorite henchmen. You aren’t not afraid of the Bells, are you?”

“I’ve only heard stories on how clever they are. I’m not afraid o’clever blokes.”

“Then my plan is going fantastically.” Threnn said.

“Touche love, Touche. So are yeh gonna tell me ’bout ‘em on the carriage ride then?”

“Only if we have time love,” Threnn said with a wink, “Only if we have time.”

“More o’yer devious plan?”

“You’ll have to escort me to the carriage to find out.” Threnn replied.

Threnn held her arm out for Bricu. He bowed low, in the southron style and said, “Miss Al’Cair, would yeh do me the honor o’hurryin’ t’the carriage? Seems we have a lot ta accomplish in a painfully short time.”

“Master Bittertongue, it would be my pleasure.”

The two paladins walked through the streets of Stormwind, arm in arm, all the while smiling at Threnn’s devious plans.

–

The gilded carriage Bricu rented wasn’t equipped to handle the rough road that lead divided the Longwell’s property, so the driver dropped Bricu and Threnn off halway between the Longwell’s Orchards and their barn, forcing the paladins to walk the rest of the way. Their path was marked by torches, on long wooden poles, planted by the Longwells earlier in the day. Neither one of them cared the dim light or the length of the walk. It gave them the time they needed to finish the conversation they started halfway through their carriage ride. Threnn’s eyes were watering from laughing, while Bricu cheeks started to ache from his constant smiling.

“Och, love,” he said, “its all true.”

“So Haldvan did it?”

“Aye, he went straight ta Greyson an’ told ‘im that I was by fair the most respectful candidate he’d seen in nearly twenty years! Greyson was fuckin’ furious!”

“You two went through all of that, just to ruin Greyson Shadowbreaker’s day?”

“It didn’t start that way. It started with a conversation ’bout the Holy properties o’Ales an’ Lagers.”

“Holy properties of beers?” Threnn asked.

“An’ Lagers. See love, accordin’ t’Dwarven custom, there’s a beer fer every ailment. Sometimes its boiled, sometimes its chilled, sometimes yeh bathe in it.”

Her giggles finally under control, Threnn tugged at Bricu’s arm and had him stop. “Wait. Bathe in beer?”

“Aye. Fer a fever. Humans can’t really catch it. Accordin’ ta Haldvan, it just makes us sneeze, but it makes a dwarf’s hair fall out an’ their skin gets a silvery color. They have ta bathe in beer ta recover. Somehow, the beer cuts the fever.”

“So when they catch this fever, how often do they have to bathe in beer?” Threnn said.

“Twice a day fer three t’five days. But Haldvan swore by it. Said he got it once. Had t’bathe in beer fer four days. He said it was the worst time o’his life.”

“So you bathe in it, but you can’t drink it?”

“Aye. Drininkin’ makes the fever worse an’ they can’t wash the beer off. It dries on ‘em an they have t’leave it be. So he smelled like dried, stale beer fer a week.”

Threnn frowned. “That’s terrible. What do they do for it?”

Bricu winked back at her, “They drink whisky toddies. Says it helps with the headaches from the fever.”

Threnn crossed her arms over her chest. Her frown remained, but Bricu could see the hint of a smile forming at the corner of her mouth. “Dearest, this sounds like crap.”

“Love, when I have I ever lied t’yeah.” Bricu said.

“I didn’t say it was a lie, I said this was crap.”

“Love, it’s all true. If it isn’t, may the ground shake an’ the seas boil.”

“I can’t see the seas from here, but my knees are buckling.” Threnn said.

“That’s just the effect I have on yeh.”

“Maybe, isn’t that tree shaking?” Threnn said.

“Love, that’s just yer head spinin’ from me ruggedly handsome self.”

“I hope you’re going to be more clever for the Bells.”

“Are yeh sayin’ I’m not clever?” Bricu asked.

“This is, at best, clever flirting. I think if you tried this with Robert or William, they’re likely to tear you apart.”

“Lass, I only flirted with the quartermaster ta get me squad extra rations. When we pair my Northerman charm ta their Southron wit, I’m sure we’ll come out appreciatin’ each other’s sense o’humor. Strewth, worst case? I’ll treat ‘em like I treat that tosser O’Connough. I’ll just ignore ‘em.”

“Love, O’Connough is neither my friend, nor is he witty. The Bells are both. I’ll have you know that there are thousands of known Southron wits.” Threnn said.

“Are any o’them still livin’?”

“At least two.”

“So t’night I get t’meet the premiere wits o’the Southern kingdoms?” Bricu asked.

“Ayup.” Threnn said.

“Yer friends the Bells?”

“We’ve been over this before, haven’t we?”

“Och, aye, we have. I’m just not entirely sure I’m that scared.” Bricu said.

“Only a fool knows no fear love.” Threnn said

“Southron wit an’wisdom?”

Threnn nodded, “We brought that expression northward, when we brought you peace and civilisation.”

“Yeh know, the Arathi went south, settlin’ Elwynn…” Bricu said.

“So when your wit is outmatched, you turn towards facts?”

“That or outright lyin’.” Bricu said

“So you would lie to me.” Threnn said. He could hear a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Only if yeh have a very narrow definition o’lie.”

“A lie has a pretty specific definition dearest. Are you going to try and change it?” Threnn asked.

“Och, no, I’m just tryin’ ta clarify it a wee bit. See, there’s a difference between a lie an’ a good story.”

“So its okay to lie if you’re telling as a good story?”

Bricu nodded. “Good stories, good intent, not a lie. Bad story, or bad intent, now that’s an unforgivable lie.”

“Then how many bad stories have you told me?” Threnn asked.

They were a few short steps from the entrance to the barn when they started to hear the music of the fiddles, tin whistles and drummers hired by the Longwells. In this dim light, it was a struggle for Bricu to see Threnn, but he heard worry in her voice. She wasn’t laughing anymore. Bricu tugged on Threnn’s arm to stop her. Then he turned her toward him and looked her in the eyes. Her face was nearly impossible to read. “By my reckonin’,” Bricu said, “none. And I never will. I promise.”

Bricu caught her grin too late. “By my reckoning,” Threnn said, “that story you told me about finding the lost holy book of the gnomes was the most vile lie concocted. Ever.” Her laugh cut through the chill in the air. Bricu stepped back, letting her go to cover his heart with his hands.

“Och, yeh cut me ta the quick. Here yeh start ta sound serious an’…”

“And you fell for it. I got you, Master Bittertongue, like any good villian should.” Threnn said. She held her arm out for Bricu. “Are you coming? I have to throw you to my henchman.”

Bricu let out a mock sigh. “Like any good hero,” he said, “I’ll answer the call .” He took Threnn’s arm in his own. “But I warn yeh love, I mean ta play this game fer keeps Henchmen or no, yer comin’ back home with me..”

“Good.” Threnn said.

He bowed, once more in the southron style, and took her arm in his. Arm in arm, they walked into the Longwell’s barn.

–

The Longwell’s barn was packed by the time Bricu and Threnn made their entrance. Unlike most Southron parties, it was not a servant that announced the couple. Instead, Josiah Longwell, the heir apparent of the Longwell’s farms and orchards, greeted them the same way he greeted every invited guest: With a mug of cider.

“Threnody! Bricu!” Josiah said. He plunged two mugs into the barrel of the amber liquid. The cider sloshed into the mugs, and the scent of spiced apples grabbed their attention.

“Thank you both for coming.” He handed the first mug to Threnn first, the second to Bricu. Josiah took his mug, topping it off with ladel of cider, and toasted the couple’s health. Threnn and Bricu returned the gesture, careful not to spill any of the cider back into the barrel.

“Thank you for the invite.” Threnn said. She took a healthy swig from her mug.

“Cheers mate!” Bricu said before slamming half of the cider.

“I’m glad you both could make it, although…” Josiah gave Threnn a wink, “Your mother did not say you would be bringing Master Bittertongue.”

“Did Thenia say who my date would be?” Threnn asked. Bricu could hear the irritation creep into her voice. Either Josiah didn’t hear it or he didn’t pay any attention.

“Oh, she had a list. Thomas Maunt was at the top of it. I was in the middle.” Josiah laughed, “No offense Threnn, but your mother has no clue about my tastes. My ‘guest’ is hobnobbing with the gentry.” Josiah nodded to well dressed, man at least ten years older than Bricu or Threnn. He looked back at Josiah frequently. “I mean, we’ve been together for five years. You would think she knows.”

Threnn said, “She knows, she just hopes for something else.” Bricu took another sip of his Cider. Josiah gave Bricu another ladel.

“Yer a brilliant host.” Bricu said. Josiah smiled and winked at him.

“Now tell me” Josiah placed a hand on Threnn’s forearm. “is she going to give you any trouble for bringing our Bricu?” asked Josiah.

“She can’t get pissed if two folk show up t’the same party.” Bricu said.

“Bricu has his own invite…”

“That’s right!” Josiah said, “How dense of me! You helped the family address some … unpleasantness a few months ago. Where are your friends?.”

“They’re indisposed.” Bricu said, sipping at his cider.

“That’s a shame. Give Makarah my best, will you?”

“Certainly boyo, certainly.”

“How many more were you expecting?” Threnn asked.

“Oh, we invited at least another twenty adventures of various stripe and station.” He looked past Bricu and Threnn to the couple that just entered the barn. “Oh look. Lady Gontaut has yet another new young escort. She’s old enough to be his grandmother. Still.” He dipped two more mugs into the barrel, “Excuse me while I talk the blue bloods up a bit more. You two go enjoy the party!”

“Of course.” Threnn said

“Cheers mate.” Bricu slid his arm around Threnn’s waist and led her away. Josiah gave them a polite nod before greeting Lady Gontaut with the respect due her station.

They waded into the sea of guests and party goers. Bricu craned his neck, scanning the crowd for the infamous Bellsm while Threnn made a bee-line to the bar.

“Yeh see ‘em?” He asked.

“No, I can’t see anything but the back of the crowd. But I know where they’re going to be.”

“An’ where’d that be love?” Bricu pulled his arm from her waist to let her lead the way.

“By the bar. Willliam will be flirting with Marketa Longwell.”

“Sounds smart.” Bricu said.

“It is. This way, he keeps her company and he gets cheaper drinks.”

“What’s Marketa think ’bout it?”

“Usually, she prefers the company, and the flirting is mostly harmless.” Threnn said. She continued to snake through the crowd.

“Really?”

“Oh, they both prefer flirting to actually being with each other.” Threnn said.

“Nothin’ serious then?”

Threnn nodded, “This way they can flirt, keep off underiserables and make each other feel better. It’s a win-win.”

“Sounds clever.” Bricu said.

“It was William’s idea.” Threnn said.

“Yeh’d figure that one o’them wouldn’t be pleased with the idea after they gave it a shot.”

“No.” Threnn said, “Love, it’s hard to stay mad at a Bell for long.”

“Och, I need t’learn their tricks.” Bricu said.

Threnn glanced over her shoulder. “It’s innate love.” She said, “If you haven’t managed to do it by now, I don’t think you’ll ever get it.”

“Strewth, the more yeh tell me ’bout the Bells, the more it sounds like I’m in way o’er me head.”

Threnn smiled back at him, and for the first time that night, Bricu started to feel a hint of worry. “The bar is this way.” She said. Threnn weaved in and out of the crowd, with Bricu following her lead.

–

The “Bar” was at the far end of the barn. Four stalls had been cleaned and converted into a space for serving spirits, beers and wines. The eternity of the space was festooned with dried apples, stalks of wheat and gourds of all shapes, sizes and colors. The only hint of the bar’s previous existence was the hay and sawdust on the floor. The bar itself, and the shelves that held the liquor, were made out of the de-constructed walls that used to keep the animals separate from each other.

Instead of keeping the animals in separate stalls, the bar separated the barkeep from the rest of the Longwell’s guests. The space in front of her was packed with patrons. The barkeep, an attractive woman, her blonde hair braided down her back, dressed in an red and white checkered dress, focused primarily on two men who occupied three stools at the middle of the bar. Men and women from all over Stormwind were trying to vie for her attention, and yet not a single patron tried to squeeze into that one empty space between the men. That is, until Threnn cleared the crowd. She strode to the empty stool and draped on arm around each of the men.

“William and Robert Bell” Threnn said, “Leave poor Marketa alone. She’s not paid nearly enough to deal with this crowd, let alone the two of you at once.”

“Thank you Threnn,” Marketa said. “Although, to be fair to Robert, it was William who was giving me the hardest time.”

Both Bells’ turned to face Threnn, and both Bells broke into terribly mischievous grins. At first glance, they were identical. Bricu looked for clues as to which Bell was which. He said a small prayer of thanks that one of them wore glasses. The Bells even wore identical green and black flannel shirts and matching denim pants. Both of the Bells’ wore their dark hair short, and held it in place with a thick oil. The one on Threnn’s right had his sleeves rolled up to show-off a bevy of tattoos. The one on her left wore horn-rim glasses, but Bricu wasn’t sure if they helped him see or if they were as cosmetic as his brother’s tattoos.

“Threnny!” The one on her right said as he embraced her, “Be a dear and tell Marketa she would be doing us all a great favor if she would just take William back.”

“At least have her give me another glass of apple wine. She’s saying I’m cut off for some imagined slight.” Said the one on her left. When Robert let go of her, William wrapped his arms around her. “It’s good to see you!” he said.

Bricu stood just behind Threnn, waiting for an introduction. Robert gave him the once over. Bricu smiled as best he could, even as Robert sized him up. After a few moments, Robert extended his hand.

“Robert Bell.”

It was a firm handshake, but one that brimmed with formality.

“Bricu Bittertongue. Nice t’meet yeh mate.”

Robert narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he smiled, “The pleasure is all mine.” He picked up his cider and nearly drained the glass.

William let go of Threnn and extended a hand towards Bricu. He didn’t bother to smile as he sized Bricu up.

“William.” He said.

“Bricu. Pleasure ta meet yeh.” Bricu said. William, however, had already returned his full attention to Threnn.

“Where’s Anna?” He asked her.

“She’s praying in the Grove tonight. She’s practicing her Darnassian.”

“Praying.” Robert said smiling, “What’s his name?”

“Honestly, I didn’t ask this time.” Threnn said.

“What happened to that other bloke, Miller?” William asked.

“Nothing happened with him, at least, nothing that she told me about. ” Threnn said.

“We’ve been over this Will. She didn’t tell me anything either.” Robert said.

“What, I can’t ask a friend about another friend? Can’t I be curious as to her…”

“Boyfriend?” Threnn said.

“Interests?” said Bricu.

“People that aren’t William Bell?” Robert said.

William’s glare followed each speaker. “Does it take all three of you to come up with one decent joke?”

“Oh give it a rest William. Its all in good fun, right?” Robert said.

“Good fun is it? Well, in the spirit of ‘good fun’, Robert, did you talk to Threnny about the ‘good fun’ you had with Marisol Nimetz?”

“No, he didn’t.” Threnn said. “Marisol?”

Robert, now a shade of red approaching Bricu’s hair, abruptly changed the subject. “Threnny, dad wants you and Bricu to visit him next week, during lunch.”

“Brilliant.” Bricu said, “Did he mention a place he wanted t’go ta?”

“No.” Robert said, still looking at Threnn.

“Mr. Bell…” Threnn started

“Threnny, call him JOHN already.” Robert said.

“Mr. JOHN Bell packs his own lunch. He’s been doing it for over twenty years. He doesn’t really leave the shop until he he closes it for the night.”

Bricu nodded, “Still, I’d want ta bring him somethin’. Either o’yeh an idea on what I should bring ta yer da?”

“Something sweet.” Robert said.

“Pastries. He’d enjoy a few pastries.” William said.

“I can do that.” Bricu said. He watched as the Bells exchanged a few quick looks.

“I don’t know if he can bake,” Threnn said, “but my Bricu says he can cook. So far he’s only made one dinner for me.”

“That simply will not do,” William said.

“Exactly! You can’t offer up a talent like cooking and not follow through! Our Threnny deserves better.”

Robert was grinning like a cat who caught a canary. [i]At least,[/i] Bricu thought, [i]they’re getting this out of the way soon.[/i]“We’ve not had all that much time fer a dinner at home.” Bricu said, “We typically end up hittin’ the Pig after a job. We’re ta tired ta do much else after we get….”

“That’s weak.” Robert said.

“I know that being ‘An Adventurer’ is demanding, strenuous work. Hells, I’d go so far as to say that its punishing. But to punish our Threnny with dangerous work AND terrible food?” Said Robert.

Threnn sipped at her cider while the Bells and Bricu bantered. She hid her smile behind the mug.

“Och, the two o’yeh have lived in Stormwind longer than me, an yeh know full well that Kendor plans the meals at the pig. He’s a fine chef.”

“Kendor is a one trick pony in Stormwind!” William said.

“No variety!” Robert said.

“He’s the only bloody Southron chef I’d bother with!” Bricu said. He wanted wince at his own gaff, but he wasn’t about to do it in front of William or Robert.

“Better than boiling the flavor out of the meat and vegetables.” William said.

“Better than frying it all in butter.” Robert said.

“Hell, at least Southron cooks use more than mutton as a meat.”

Robert started to say something, but Bricu cut him off.

“Well that’s true. Northern cookin’ is shite. Uttter, despicable shite.” Bricu said. He watched the Bells exchange another series of looks–looks of confirmation, not shock. This was good enough for him. He smiled and held his glass of cider out for a toast. “I’m sure we can agree on that. Cheers!”

Threnn, Robert and William returned the gesture. The clanking of their glasses was barely audible over the sound of the bar. William and Robert took a small, cursory sips where Threnn and Bricu drank deeply. Threnn’s mug had some cider left. Bricu drained his first mug.

William wasted no time returning to the topic at hand. “So you’re too tired to cook?”

“I don’t have a kitchen in me apartment in the Rose, mate.” Bricu said.

“And you end up at the Pig because of Kendor and his cooking?” Robert asked.

“That an’ it’s where all the Riders go.” Bricu shrugged his shoulders. Thick bastard, he thought yer bein’ set up. It was a trick that Bricu was far too familiar with. Someone–usually Tarq–would take one role why Bricu would take the other. The Bells had perfected this set up, nearly completing each others sentences. For a moment, he began to regret finishing his cider.

“What are you, fourteen and going to a church mixer? ” Robert said.

“Only when we got R&R. That’s when I enlisted…”

“Which makes this ‘company outing’ garbage all the more depressing. You, of all people, should be showing our Threnny a night on the town.” William said, complete with sneer quotes.

“Honestly, when do you get any alone time?” Robert continued.

“Like a proper courting couple.” William said..

“Yeh lads are right. We do need t’get away more often.”

“Of course we’re right.” Robert said, “We’re just looking out for our Threnny. We’re the closest thing she has to brothers.”

“Older brothers.” William stated simply.

“Whatever.” Robert waved him off, “We are looking out for our sister. We look after her, she looks after us.” As if on cue, Robert and William both finished their cider. “Speaking of looking out for us,” William said as he put his empty glass on the bar, “would you be a dear sister and bring the three of us more cider?”

“A sister you’re so eager to get rid of?” Threnn said playfully. “Fine, I got this round. You two, however, owe me.”

“And what does Bricu owe you?” William said.

“Oh, he’ll pay up later tonight.” She took William’s glass from his hand, “Stop teasing Marketa
or ask her to dinner.” Robert handed his glass to Threnn, giving her a truely genuine smile. She didn’t care. Threnn looked him straight in the eye, and leveled a finger in his face. “Just don’t destroy him.” She said, “I’m still fond of him.” She walked around and kissed Bricu on the cheek. “The same goes for you, love. Be nice.”

“When am I not nice.” Bricu said.

“And who have we ever destroyed?” William asked.

Threnn waved a free hand at the three men. “Just be here. No black eyes either.” She walked off towards Josiah and the rest of the cider.

Bricu watched Threnn disappear into the crowd, headed for some of the Longwell’s near mythical cider. When he turned back to Robert and William, he noticed a dramatic change in the formerly talkative, welcoming, Bells. William, the quiet one, adjusted his glasses. His laconic smile was replaced with a scowl–as if the last drops of his cider was as bitter as Arathi Brandy. Robert, who had just moments before clapped Bricu’s shoulder like a brother, was staring daggers at him. His arms were placed on the bar, showing off the recent tattoos. He was trying his very best to be threatening. Before Bricu could comment on the ink, Robert voiced his–and his brother’s–concerns.

“If you left now, I think you would be abe to find another harvest ball just in time.”

Bricu sighed, looking from William, to Robert, before responding.

“Och, I figured that when she was outta ear shot, yeh lads might say someth’ bout me bein’ with Threnny…”

William cut him of sharply.

“You don’t get to call her that.”

Bricu kept a straight face, not rising to William’s challenge or trying to goad him on. Threnn told him to play nice.

“Och, an’ why’s that.”

“Bittertongue, we’re not your marks. Threnny is like a sister to us. Her mother might as well have been our mother.” Robert said eloquently.

Bricu nodded at him, letting him finish what he had obviously been practicsing.

“We’ve heard of you and the Riders. We know that our Threnny likes to keep rough company. We’ve seen her army friends. Like that Kaven fellow. You meet Kaven, right?”

“Aye, I have.”

“You know they had a brief history, right?”

“Aye, I know that too.” Bricu said.

“We liked Kaven. He treated Threnn the right way, he seemed nearly smart enough for her and there’s no doubt in my mind that Kaven is a good man. He wasn’t even good enough for our Threnny.”

Robert paused to finish the last of his cider. William continued for him.

“And you, friend, aren’t half the man that Kaven is.”

“So where does that leave you?” Robert said as he set his empty glass down.

Bricu spoke up, cutting off William’s practiced speech.

“Strewth… Boyo, if I had a sister, I wouldnt’ want a bloke like me near her.” He said smiling. Bricu looked each of them in the eyes as he continued. “Hell, I’d even be stupid ‘nough t’challenge ‘im more directly than either o’yeh did.”

“William wanted to puff his chest out more, but I heard about the Blue Recluse.” Robert said.

“Yeh did now?” Bricu looked back at Willam, who was shaking his head, “no.” Robert continued.

“I know on of the fellows you hit on your way down. Hell of a shiner you gave him. How many did you actually deal with before..”

William spoke up, “Robert, we’re talking TOO Bricu, not about him.”

“Right.”

Bricu kept paused, to be polite, but he ignored the brother’s banter.

“As I was sayin’, I should leave. But I’m not gonna.”

“Really?” William said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why’s that?”

“Because boyo, I’m fond o’Threnn, an’ I’m a better fer knowin’ her.”

“What, she makes you a better person?” Robert said while laughing. “What is this, some sort of morality play brought to life?”

“Oi, it’s nothin’ so fuckin’ trite.” Bricu looked past Robert, straight at William. When he had William’s gaze, he continued.

“I drink, I curse an I fight dirty. I could list off my sins t’yeh lads, an’ yeh’d end up thinkin’ me souls more stained than yer brother’s arms.”

“Overly dramatic Bittertongue You sound exactly like a paladin in a morality play now.” William said.

“I had hoped yeh southron’s would appreciate a clever turn o’phrase.”

“When you develop a clever turn of phrase” Robert said, “we’ll let you know.”

“Fair enough,” Bricu said. He continued grinning, despite the Bell’s baiting.

“How’s this: Can we all agree that’s she’s a better person than the lot o’us?”

“That we can.” William said.

“Good. Now, it ain’t not like I met Threnny an’ some o’that morality wore off. An’ she’s not scammin’ folk, gettin’ inta bar fights or anythin’ else that I’ve done.”

“We can agree on that as well.” Robert said.

“So we’re not changin’ each other. Not directly. I just want t’do right by her. She doesn’t ask me t’smile more or tell me t’keep me wit in check, nor does she tell me ta leave off a tosser if they have it comin’. She just let’s me be. So now I want t’be be a wee bit better, just t’match her. So I’m not changin’ for her …it’s somethin else entirely.”

The three men were quiet for a moment. Bricu met their gazes in turn. William turned into the crowd, looking for Threnn, while Robert finally spoke up.

“What the hell does that even mean.”

“It means, Mr. Bell, that I ‘m not a sappy git that is spewin’ pretty words ’bout how I’m bein’ better fer her. I’m tryin’ ta do better ta reach her level. Whatever’s goin’ on here is real, not some bloody stupid infatuation that end with a broken heart or when someone gets bored. ”

Bricu kept his voice low, and leaned in close to the Bells. “It means that I’m not leavin’ the one woman who I want t’be with. While I can appreciate her two well meanin’ friends lookin’ after her, yeh lot would have better luck gettin’ me t’quit drinkin’ than quit on Threnny.”

Bricu sat back up, military straight, and smiled again.

“You mean to stay.” Robert asked.

“Aye.”

“No matter what?” Wililam asked.

“Unless she tells me t’fuck off, aye.”

“Even when Thenia comes calling.” Robert asked.

“Och I’ll buy the o’bird the tea she likes t’drink when she comes callin’ an’ we’ll be just fine. We had a brief encounter already, an’ I’ve already met her da. How bad can Thenia be.”

“Bittertongue, you’ve gone from brave to stupid in a matter of seconds.” Robert said.

“If I’m not ‘fraid o’the infamous Bells, I’m not gonna be scared by Thenia AlCair. But I’m not stupid. Instead o’telling yeh lot ta fuck off, I’m asking fer yeh ta give me a chance.”

“And why should we?” William asked.

“Because if yeh don’t try–at least fer tonight–I’ll just tell Threnny that yeh lads tried t’get me t’fuck off on her.”

Bricu smiled wider as he watched both Bells’ faces fall flat. He continued.

“That’s right lads, I’d rat yeh out in a fuckin’ heartbeat. An’ we all know our Threnny is as stubborn lass. She’s full o’fire an’ pride. Women like that are not likely goin’ ta take kindly t’folk meddlin’ when she knows she handle ‘erself an’ her affairs. So if she learns ’bout yer botched chivalry–takin’ her mum’s side over her side–she’ll more’n likely will put yeh lads in yer place…just like she did that Hallow’s Eve years back where yeh scared the piss outta wee Annalea.”

“She told you about that?” Robert asked.

“The haunted house, the fake blood, how yeh conned Jenny Brook t’lie there for hours lookin’ deader than’ a Forsaken, how yeh had her run inta the armoire….”

“Damn.” Robert said . William simply let out a low whistle.

“Was it really the worst fight yeh’ve ever been in?” Bricu said.

“Worse than when you got your arse handed to you in the Recluse.”

“Clever–but not nearly clever enough Robert. Now, yeh thinkin’ she told that story t’Kaven?”

“Hells, no.” Robert said, “If she had, I’m pretty sure he wouldnt’ have asked us to make those armoires without laughing at us the entire time.”

“Exactly. That tell yeh anythin’ bout how our Threnny feels ’bout me then?”

“Maybe.” William said, “but that doesn’t change a damn thing either. You’re going to hurt her.”

Bricu continued to look William in the eyes, “Yer right.” He said. William nodded and started to cut Bricu off. “At some point I’m goin’ ta fuck up. But it wont’ be like yer imaginin’ right now. No, it’ll be somethin’ mundane. I’ll say somethin’ careless or crass an’ hurt her feelin’s, or maybe we’ll just argue like any other couple that tries ta make a romance work.”

“You’re going to…” William started to say.

“I’m gonna do what, squire? Oi, yeh lads have it so clear in yer heads that I’m bad fer her, why don’t yet take it ta her or her folks?”

“Thenia’s planning on talking to Threnn, and Padraig sees our point.”

“Thenia always got somethin’ ta say ta Threnn. An’ Padraig said he isn’t gonna get involved…So while he sees yer point, he’s not sayin’ shite ta Thenia or Threnn, is he?”

Neither William or Robert answered Bricu’s question. He softened his tone and his words as he addressed the Bells.

“Look, lads,” Bricu had his hands out to the Bells, “I know what yer doin’ an it makes perfect bloody sense ta look out after Threnn like this. But I’m speakin’ the truth ta the both o’yeh. I’m completely serious ’bout her. If I wasn’t, yeh think I’d still be here talkin’ ta her infamous brothers?”

“So you’re not leaving.” Robert said.

“No. I’m not squire.” Bricu continued watching William.

“He’s not taking us seriously, Robert.”

“Ballacks, William. This is more important than me runnin’ inta her da. I woudn’t still be sittin’ here with yeh if I didn’t recognie how fuckin’ important this was. But yer not gonna be scarrin’ me away from her.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Robert said. He had settled inbetween William and Bricu, watching the two of them spar. Neither Bricu or William missed this finer point.

“All I’m gonna ask, William, is yeh give me the same shot Padraig did. Can yeh do that?”

“What about me?” Robert asked.

“Robert, yeh’ve already made yer fuckin’ mind up. Yeh already think I’m worth the shot just ’cause I make William a wee bit crazy.”

Robert waited a heartbeat before answering, “That’s true, but if you do hurt her…”

“I’m well aware o’what I have waitin’ fer me.” Bricu said.

“Fine. Tonight.” William said. “You have tonight, but you’re both wankers.”

“Whose a wanker?” Threnn asked. She was holding four fresh mugs of cider, two in each hand. Threnn eyed all the men, looking for fresh bruises or poorly hidden scowls. Satisfied that no one had thrown a punch, or was in a snit, she passed out the cider.

Once all the ciders were passed out, Bricu stood up and exclaimed–a little too loudly–a toast for Threnn.

“Ta Threnny!” He shouted. “Fer bein’ sweet enough ta get us more o’this brilliant cider! OI!” The Bells, Bricu and Threnn slammed their mugs into each others. Cider sprayed them all, including the man directly behind William. He has a large man, taller than Bricu, bald-headed with a ruddy face. He squinted and scowled at the lot of them, but no one paid him any mind. Threnn had already changed focused their attention to her previous question.

“So whose a wanker?” Threnn asked.

“Daniel Morris.” Robert answered, “you know, the mining magnate’s son?”

“How could I forget him. Mother tried to get me to go for tea with him. He had a list of other women to see, so he couldn’t possibly bother with me.”

“His loss.” William said.

“My gain,” Bricu said. He wrapped an arm around Threnn’s waist, and moved closer to her. She followed suit, wrapping her free arm around him. William’s frown was barely noticeable.

“Yes yes, your gain.” Robert said, “Anyway, we were just telling Bricu that Daniel came into the shop today. Seems that his uncle passed away last night.”
Threnn pulled her arm away from Bricu and blessed her self with her free hand. Bricu made a similiar gesture, but he used the mug of cider.

“Light Bless.” Threnn said finally.

“He wanted a mahogany casket, with truesilver inlays. He also wanted it custom made and to be done within two days.” Robert said.

“We don’t stock mahogany. Its expensive, heavy and more suitable for cabinetry and furniture than a casket.” William said.

“And true silver, on every bloody corner of a mahgony casket…” Robert said.

“Strewth, that’ll be be heavy an’ expensive. How many pall-bearers would that bloke get?” Bricu said.

“He’d need at least eight before the casket.” William said. He waved the concern off with another sip of cider. “Enough about work, that’s for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Robert said.

“We want to know more about you and your Northman.” William said.

“Really mate, there isn’t much ta say.” He took another sip of his cider.

“Modesty.” Threnn said staring at Robert and William, “What have you two done to him?”

“Nothing.” Robert said.

“Love, we were just talkin’ ’bout work.” Bricu said. “It was pleasant.”

“Pleasent?” Threnn asked.

“Perfectly pleasant.” William said.

“Actually,” Robert interrupted, “We need to finish questioning your your Northman about cooking. We have to make sure he is as good as he says he is.”

“Oh no.” Robert said, “We;re not wasting a free evening before you can at least prove you can talk the talk.”

Threnn shook her head. “What do either of you two know about cooking.”

“I can boil water and scrub a pot.” William said.

“Well mate, what do yeh want ta talk ’bout?”

“Vegetables.” Robert said.

“Really.” Threnn said. She glared at Robert

“Right, fair enough. See, Northern folk’ve got more root vegetables an’ gourds in their diet, while the southrons…”
Threnn cut Bricu off, “I’d like to hear what Robert has to say about southron cooking.”

“Well.” Robert said, “In the north, they have to boil their foods longer, as they need to break down the starches and the structure a bit so they can eat it. But we have more greens in our diet, and they don’t need more than a quick blanching, which we can do either by boiling or with a little oil in a skillet.” In the stunned silence, he took a triumphant swing of cider.

“What…Since when have you known anything about blanching greens?” Threnn said.

“That’s one’ o’the ways ta do it, love.” Bricu said.

Threnn ignored Bricu. Her glare softened, but she continued to stare at him. “Robert, you don’t cook.”

“No, I don’t cook, but do you remember Elly Whitfeld?”

“I remember her cooking for us.” William said.

“The brunette from Westfall who wanted to be a bard?” Threnn said.
“The same. She was a better cook than a bard.” Robert said.

“She’s the one that left him for ‘Shifty’ Livinginston.” William said. A faint smile crept up his face.

Bricu interrupted their reminiscing, “Whose this Shifty?”

“A self important ‘Trader’ who always has a half formed plan for profit playing in his tiny brain.” Threnn said.
“Och, never trust a bloke whose always schemin’.” Bricu said.

Threnn rolled her eyes, “Your plans are fine love.”

Bricu sipped at the cider, a content smile on his face. “No, my plans are brilliant. Go on then, more on this bloke.”
“Obviously, he’s another of our Threnny’s suitors.” William said.

“He was so eager to meet me, even when my dowry was as he put it, ‘far below market value.’” Threnn said.

“Tell me the wanker didn’t say that ta yeh!”

“Every chance he got. He thought he was quite witty. Hells, he even came to our shop to try and ingratiate himself into our good graces, thinking that would help him land Threnny.” William said.

“Strewth, he sounds…”

“Oily?” Robert said.

“Shifty?” Threnn said.

“Like a wanker?” William said.

“That’s it, a right wanker.” Bricu raised his mug to William. He did the same, almost matching Bricu’s enthusiasm. Another spray of cider splashed the party behind William, including the bald, ruddy man. He hunched his shoulders in shock, then turned to stare daggers at William.

“So how’d yeh lads deal with ‘im.” Bricu said. He sat forward, giving the bloke behind William a once-over.

“It was William’s idea.” Robert said.

“Mostly. See, Elly was starting to get serious with Robert. He didn’t know what to do. I mean, he liked her enough to spend a few days with her, but nothing that he considered…”

“…permanent..” Robert said.

“Long term. Anyway, she was asking Robert to go to Darkshire with her. She had some sort of a job in one of the taverns. I just told Shifty that Elly had a very promising career in music, and she need a person to help her manage her finances and keep her safe.”

“That was it?”

“Well.” William said.

“No, it wasn’t it. He also told shifty how much the contract was for.” Robert said.

“Techincally, I mistakenly told him that she was going to be making three gold a week in Darkshire.”

“Gold, silver, what’s the difference?” Robert said, “My brother, who extracted me from a complicated situation with one clever mistake.”

“Ta William, the problem solver!” Bricu raised his glass, the rest followed suit, in yet another toast. Once again, the man behind William turned around and glared at him. This time, Bricu and Threnn both noticed his stare. Threnn stood up and let Bricu move their stools back a few inches. Robert moved up a step, while William scooted his towards his brother. Apparently appeased, the man nodded and turned back to his own group of friends.

“But once again, we’re pulled off topic. We’re spending too much time talking about us and no where near enough grilling Bittertongue.” Robert said.

“Ask away mate, I’ve got nothin’ ta hide.”

“What is it about our Threnny that you love the most?” Robert asked. He grinned, clearly proud of himself and his question. Threnn took a triumphant sip of her cider, smiling all the while. William waited patiently for Bricu to speak. Bricu looked at each in turn, then gave his answer.

“Lads,” Bricu said, “What isn’t there ta like ’bout our Threnn? She’s got beauty, grace, brains an passion. She’s also deviously cunnin’, an’ brilliant when under pressure. Either o’yeh lucky enough ta see her operate that way before?”

“On occasion.” William said.

“Only when she’s dealing with Thenia.” Robert said.

“Och, William, Robert, yeh should’ve seen her the day we met. All o’those qualities came inta play at once.”

Threnn’s smile faltered. “Oh you wouldn’t.” She said.

“Wouldn’t what?” Robert asked.

Bricu paused for sip of cider. He looked at Threnn briefly, before turning back to the Bells. He leaned in to the Bells, his mug of cider in one hand, the other free to gesture.

“I remember it perfectly. Our lovely Threnn was standin’ on the balcony o’the Pig. It was a packed night, yeh see, an’ she was just a few steps from the top o’the stairs. Folk were walkin’ by her, some gettin’ ta close. So I walked near her, just as someone else came up the stairs. She started ta shift her drink an she committed the most grievous sin in the Pig.”

“Oh stop.” Threnn said.

“What did she do?” Robert asked.

“Mate, she ended up spillin’ some o’her drink on the southron war hero, Christoph Faral.”

“She what?” William said.

“It was an accident, mind yeh. Not like an entire mug. Just enough that he noticed. Wet his hair, down his back. Och, it was a wee bit o’a mess.”

“No it wasn’t.” Threnn said.

“Threnny, love, lemme finish for the Bells, aye?”

Threnn responded by taking another sip of her cider. This time, she didn’t smile triumphantly. She briefly stared daggers at Bricu, before turning on the look on the Bells. Neither William, Robert nor Bricu gave it any attention.

Bricu continued, “See lads, that look is the kinda fire that drew me ta her. But she didn’t unleash it on Faral. Yeh know what she did do?”

“What did our Threnny do?”

“It is nothing.” Threnn said.

“She went down ta apologize ta him. Not meek an’ mild, but a proper apology.”

“That is our Threnny,” William said, “Doing the right thing.”

Threnn took another sip of her cider. She continued to glare over her mug of cider.

“I would have just blamed my brother.” Robert said.

William rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his cider.

“But Threnny isn’t the kind o’woman ta blame another fer her own failin’. No, she’s quite serious ’bout these matters. An one would hope that a hero such as Faral would see the intent an’ forgive her. But yeh know what the wanker did?”

“What did he do?” Robert asked. He turned from Bricu to watch Threnn take another sip of her cider. William, for his part, watched Bricu carefully.

“He walked away.”

“NO!” Robert said dramatically.

“The bastard.” William said.

Threnn simply sighed.

“So here’s our lovable Threnny, who committed two terrible sins: Spillin’ her beer on a Southron war hero. Yet she puts on a brave face an’ walks down ta express her deepest apologies. What does the Hero o’the second war do? He brushes right fuckin’ by her. ”

“Ayup. No big deal.” Threnn said.

“Never liked the blowhard myself.” Robert said.

“So this is what drew you to her.” William asked, “A failed apology?”

“Och, yeh don’t get it mate! She has the willin’ness ta go down an apologize. Then he blows her off an’ whta does she do? Threnn doesn’t fold like some milk maid. She hold her head high an’ walks back up with another drink in her hand. It’s not often yeh see a lovely girl who does the right thing with that much fire. It was enough ta ge me attention. Bein’ a generous bloke I was able ta forgive her fer spillin’ the beer, an we all know that spillin’ beer…”

“Is a sin.” William.

“Cardinal at that, boyo. Remember, I’m a servant o’the Holy Light.” Bricu said.

Bricu turned in his stool to look at Threnn, “An’ that’s how I fell fer Threnn Al’Cair. ” When he finished, Threnn leveled a punch square into Bricu’s shoulder.

“That’s for blasphemy.” Threnn said.

“I’m not the one that spilled the beer on the war hero.” Bricu said.

“All this attention over spilt beer.” William said dryly. “It must be true love.”

“Beer is a magical thing mate. Spillin’ it gets attention.”

“Bricu has a point, William. I mean, how much shit did Threnny and Anna give you when your spilled your beer at their house warming party.”

“I will hit you too, Robert Bell.” Threnn said.

William glanced from Robert to Threnn. She held her mug of cider in front of her face as she met his gaze.

“So instead o’forgiveness, yeh gave another man trouble” Bricu said.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Threnn said.

“Not that bad? Robert, what happened at her house warmin’ party?”

“Robert Bell…” Threnn started to say.

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Well, Bricu, my dear sister doesn’t want me to tell you what happened. Who am I to turn against my oldest friend.”

Threnn narrowed her eyes, waiting for Robert to finish.

‘”So yer loyalty runs that deep, eh?”

“As deep as the great sea.” Robert said. “So don’t push. No matter how hard you try, you will not here the brilliant story on how the Al’Cair girls mocked William out of true love.”

Bricu looked from Robert to Threnn, a look of fake shock plastered on his face.

“This isn’t a love story. This is far more pedestrian. Someone,” Threnn turned toward William, “had far too much to drink and spilled and was nearly sick. The end.”

‘”So why won’t yeh let one o’the Brothers Bell tell that story, eh?”

“Bricu has a point, why won’t you let me tell the story?” Robert asked.

“William doesn’t need to be embarrassed like that. Again. In front of Marketa. Again.”

“Was Marketa involed last time?” Bricu asked.

“I’m sitting right here.” William said finally. “I’ll tell the damn story.”
He scooted his barstool closer to the Robert, and spoke just above the din of the barn.

“I had a bit too much to drink. I was talking about one of Annalea’s newer friends…”

“Cute brunette from the North.” Robert said.

“My story, brother. Not yours.” William shook his head, “Regardless, I went to talk to her. I sloshed my beer all over her…”

“This is gettin’ ta be a pattern with yeh Southrons. Spillin’ yer beer when yeh should be drinkin’ it.” Bricu said.

“I have no trouble.” Robert said, draining the rest of his cider. He put his empty mug on the table and slid it towards Marketa. She missed it by an inch. It crashed to the ground, shattering into a dozen fragments.

“Robert Fucking Bell!” She shouted. The Ruddy man behind William leaned into say something, but Marketa shook her head. The Ruddy man stared daggers at the Bells, but neither of the brothers noticed. Threnn placed a hand on Bricu’s leg, then nodded with her head. Bricu gave her a wink and a nod.

“Damnit Robert, I am telling a story here.” William said.

“Now wait a second, that was Bricu’s fault for interrupting me and Marketa’s for not catching the mug. I am innocent here..”

“Robert.” Threnn said finally.

“Fine.” Robert said, “Marketa, dear, can I get another drink?”

Marketa, busy with the Ruddy Man, gives Robert a quick nod. The Ruddy man turned with Marketa to glare at Robert. If Robert noticed, he paid him no mind. Bricu and Threnn did notice. Both gestured their apologies, but before either could say a word, the man snorted and turned away. William sat patiently, nursing what was left of his cider.

“Please, William, finish.” Threnn said.

“I’m sure you both would rather hear more about Robert’s antics.” William said.

“Usually, they probably would. But you insisted on telling this one.” Robert said.

“Och, William, I’m listenin’. Don’t let either o’them distract yeh from the story.”

“What’s this about ‘either’ of them?” Threnn said.

“Ta my memory, love, yeh didn’t want William ta tell the story.”

“That’s my memory.” Robert said, “I was truly hurt by the attack on my brother’s person.”

“Now hold on a moment, I was preventing William from being embarrassed by the two of you.” Threnn stated.

“So now my brother is an embarassment?” Robert said.

“Och, ta turn on William like that, love. That’s a cruel cut.”

“I didn’t…”

“Threnn, I expect this from Robert…and I should expect it from the Northman.” William said, nodding to Bricu. “But you?”

“I get you drinks, and this is how you repay me?”

“So now we are friends to be bribed, not brothers to be cherished?” Robert asked.

“I’m an embarrassment you have to pay for?” William said. He leaned forward, his palms up and out, with a plaintive look on his face. “Threnn, how could you?”

“Truly, Threnn, you should be ashamed of yourself. Look at how you’re destroying William.”

William rubbed his eyes. “Please, robert,” he said in sotto-voice, “Don’t draw attention to it.”

“Love, this is a terrible thing yeh’ve done.”

“What I’ve done!” Threnn interrupted, “how is this my doing. How did you turn the Bells against me?”

“And now you blame Bricu, our newest friend? Threnn, maybe you’ve been on the road too long.” Robert said. “You should stay home and relax a while. Maybe Bricu would cook for you.”

“Och, that’s a brilliant idea mate.” Bricu smiled sweetly, “Love, yeh should let me take care o’yeh. Yer obviously stressed ta the point o’breakin’ if yer turnin’ on these wonderful lads.”

Threnn narrowed her eyes and looked at Robert and William. “You two were supposed to help me with Bricu, not turn on me. And you!” Threnn said, turning toward Bricu, “Took away my two dearest friends and turned them on me.”

“Love, a Northman always inspires loyalty in a bar. Its our blood-heritage.”

“It’s true Threnny. I mean, the only way we can trust a Northman is if they’re drunk.” Robert said.

The shattering of a wooden mug interrupted William and Bricu’s responses. The ruddy faced man, sparying everyone near him with the remainder of his cider, held the broken remains of his mug and glowered at Robert.

“Yeh great fookin’ arsehole. Yeh bump me, spill me cider an’ then call me race cra’en drunkards?”

“I didn’t say craven. I said untrustworthy.” Robert said. He did not flinch from the man’s glower, but he had to look up to meet his eyes.

–

“Friend.” Threnn said calmly, “We’re sorry we bumped you and that Robert’s quip stung so. Let us buy you, and your friends, a round to make up for it, alright?” She eased away from Bricu and made her way to Robert’s side.

William stood up, so Threnn was flanked by both Bells. Bricu looked around the bar: A small, detached crowd was forming around the scene. Marketa moved towards the other end of the bar, motioning for some of the Longwell’s security staff to break up the altercation. The Ruddy man’s crew, each one drunk and angry, stood up as well. Bricu stood up as well, pushing his stool out of the way.

Heartbeats passed. The ruddy man swayed slightly, glaring at Bells and Threnn. He focused on Robert, then leveled a fat finger at his chest.

“The southron woman’s got sense. So Apologize. Then we want ciders. Two fer each o’us.”

“If you get your great fat finger off of my chest, so I can breath, I’ll apologize.” Robert said.

The ruddy man pulled his finger back, but clenched his fists. This time, William noticed what Bricu and Threnn did: The man was still spoiling for a fight. William looked at Threnn, then Bricu, while his brother moved to stand ontop of the bar. He moved aside so Bricu could stand next to Threnn.

“This is goin’ ta hurt.” Bricu whispered to them.

“Maybe he’ll fall and stop himself from saying something stupid.” William said. Threnn ignored them both, and tried to pull Robert off of the bar.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Northmen and Southrons, may I have your direct and permanent attention.” Robert said as he stood on top of Marketa’s bar. The constant push and pull from Threnn and Marketa kept him from swaying while he preached. “I, Robert Bell, have a sincere and powerful apology to make to my friend and comrade, the Great Bald Ox.”

A few in the crowd chuckled. The ruddy ox surged forward, but William stood in his way.

“No, he’ll apologize!” William said. “Just give it a moment, RIGHT ROBERT?”

Robert, from his perch, bowed slightly. “A hundred thousand pardons. It’s just part of the apology, sir. Of which I owe you many. First, I spilled your cider. Longwell’s cider. A sin for sure. In this crowded establishment, with all the merriment and joy, how can one not drop a sip or two? Surely, the laughs and the joy make up for the small amounts of missed cider–but I apologize for making you miss even a drop of this liquid gold. Josiah! Two rounds for my friends here!”

“See,” William said, “Two more rounds. Like he said.”

Threnn moved to shield Robert. She glanced at each of the Ruddy man’s crew, sizing them up. Bricu noticed her hand instinctively went to where she kept her sword. Whether she made a fist out of frustration or preperation, he could not tell. He tried to make his way towards her, but one of Ox’s crew stood in his way. He was shorter than Bricu, with shoulders nearly as broad. This one let his hand fall to his waist, where Bricu could see the outline of a hilt–probably a knife–under his tunic. The man shook his head. Bricu simply smiled.

“Now I owe this man, and his friends, an apology because I miss spoke.” Robert shouted.

William backed up to the bar, doing his best to get distance from Ox. “See, he’s going to continue apologizing.” He looked to Threnn and Bricu, a hint of worry on his face.

“I said that the Northman were only to be trusted when drunk. Not so! My dear sister has a new beau, a Northman, one who I am now quite fond of. And while we can all agree you should not trust a Northman who doesn’t drink, that does not mean we can only trust a Northman while drunk. No, I should have said…”

William smiled at Ox and readied himself for the inevitable punch. Threnn briefly glanced over her shoulder than stood, battle ready, to shield her idiot friend. Bricu cracked his knuckles and pointed at Robert.

“That’s me he’s talkin’ bout.”

Robert’s shout drowned out Ox’s friend’s reply.

“Thank you. I should have thanked him for giving us Southrons’ a new tradition: We take one dumb-as-an Orc Northman, give him enough cider to drown out his foul smell and use your apology to him as an excuse to stand on the bar and call attention to his misshapen skull and inability to have a good time without violence! Mock the Northman!”

Half the crowed roared with laughter, the other half simply roared. Ox was one of those who roared.

Robert danced down the bar away from Ox and his crew, dodging reaching arms and hands, all while heaping insults down upon Ox. One of Ox’s crew lunged for the bar. Threnn side stepped him, and landed a quick jab to his kidneys. He faltered at the bar, doing his best to turn around, but Threnn kicked him at the back of his knee. He fell forward, bouncing his head off the bar. She started to call on the light, but someone grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground. With her arms pinned to her sides, and not enough breath to Call on the Light, she worked on instinct. Threnn slammed her head backwards, hammering once, twice, three times before the grip slackened. She fell with the one who grabbed her, and rolled to her side. She got to her feet, quick as a cat, and kicked her attack in the side. Confident he would not stand up soon, she looked to Bricu and the Bells.

Ox himself charged towards Robert, ignoring William, who followed his brother’s jig down the bar as best he could. Ox slammed into him, knocking the wind from his lungs and squeezing the life out of him. Williams, pinned by the man’s girth, wrapped his right had around a mug of cider, and brought it crashing into back of Ox’s head. William then slammed his knee into Ox’s groin until Ox passed out on top of him.

The man with the knife under his tunic reached for his blade as fast as he could. Bricu rushed forward and grabbed his wrist, pinning it to his chest. He followed through with a head butt to the bridge of the man’s nose. Blood flowed from the man’s and he started to scream. Bricu spun the man around and with his other arm at his throat pushed him up to the bar. Bricu pulled on the man’s wrist, his hand still grabbing the knife, and holding his elbow, slammed his forearm into the bar. The man dropped the knife and fell to his knees. Bricu looked down the bar and saw Marketa pull Robert from his perch behind the bar. Bricu lept over and joined them.

“That was a wee bit more interestin’ than I figured fer the night.” He said to Robert, “Now, have yeh seen Threnny?”

“She’s fine. Since she knocked Hogarth out, and kicked him, no one has come near her. You need to take Robert outside before the Watch–or less friendly Northman–gets their hands on him.” She pointed to a panel by a series of empty crates and jugs, “Barback’s door. Take Robert there and wait for the all-clear.”

“I get a body guard!” Robert slurred.

“Save me somethin’ special, lass. C’mon Robert. I’ll share me last cigarette with yeh.”

“Another filfthy habit? Let’s go!” Robert said. He crawled towards the panels, and knocked aside the empty crates and jugs. Bricu followed him, setting the jugs and crates aside. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as someone threw a chair into the melee.

“Bloody southrons.” He said.

–

By the time Threnn made her way to the barback’s door, Robert was kneeling on the ground heaving the contents of his stomach. A half-smoked cigarette was next to him. Bricu stood a few feet away, shaking his head at the mess.

“How much did he drink back here?”

“Not more than the rest o’us.” Bricu glanced at the cigarette, “I think he inhaled the smoke.”

“He doesn’t smoke.”

“He tried it.” Bricu pointed to the vomit on the ground, “I guess he didn’t take ta it.”

“Filthy” Robert said between wretches, “Habit.”

“Guess not.” Threnn said.

“Marketa said yeh took down some bloke.”

“I noticed my knight was fighting someone with a knife. We live in dangerous days when a lady has to defender herself so viciously.” Threnn rubbed the back of her head. “I think I did that wrong.”

“It wasn’t a proper Andorhal Kiss, love, but if he fell, who cares ’bout proper?” Bricu said grining, “Oi, if yeh play yer cards right, I can teach yeh ta box.”

“What kind of card games are we talking here?” Threnn asked.

“Are yeh tryin’ ta figure a way ta shark me now?”

“Of course I am. You suggest to a girl that you’d teach her to box and not expect her to cheat to make sure you DO teach her to box.”

“Never thought o’it like that. I’ve not met ta many women who wanted ta box.” Bricu said.

“Well, you’ve obviously been associating with the wrong kind of women.” Threnn said.

“I’m drunk.” Robert said, “Not deaf. Can you two flirt somewhere else?”

Robert moved away from the pile of sick, and flopped onto his back. “And would one of you two live up to your holy obligations and get me a bit of water?”

“Yer gonna have ta wait a wee bit longer, mate. Not goin’ inside till we get the all clear from Marketa. Yeh don’t want to spend a night in the stocks, do yeh?”

“Or be gutted by a northman?” Threnn asked.

“For the Northman, I’ll just borrow yours. As for going to the stocks, I’m sure one of you could sweet talk the watch…”

“Yeh forget the colors we run with, boyo? They’d sooner see us…”

“Not me.” Threnn said

“They’d sooner se ME rot than provide yeh the smallest comfort.”

“But I’m dying.” Robert whispered. His voice cracked slightly and he covered his forehead with his hand to exagerate his plight

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about your brother?” Threnn asked.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He probably ran out of the bar. The coward.”

“William was shielding you as best he could, while you pranced up and down the bar like a…”

“Poncey git.”

“Right. A bloody poncey git. What were you thinking, Robert?” Threnn asked.

“I was thinking my dear friend and her new beau would save me. And I was right. As for William, I’m sure he’s fine. If he was hurt, I’d feel it. We’re twins.”

“Robert Bell, get your ass up and show some concern for your brother.” Threnn said.

Robert sat up on his elbows, and craned his neck to look at Threnn.

“I saw the bastard that started this fight charge me, and William stopped him. The lug fell on him, he didn’t hit him. If he was hurt, we’d have heard by now. Once the world stops spinning and my stomach stops heaving, I’ll be the first to go in there.”

“Not bloody likely.” Threnn said. “I’m going back to check them. Marketa should call you in shortly.” Threnn turned her back to Robert and Bricu and walked through the barkeep door.

Bricu watched Robert fall back to the ground. Robert had no smart words or clever turns of phrase. He sighed and reached for the cigarette that fell to the ground.

“Maybe I should have gone in.” he said softly.

“Probably boyo. I’ve not seen her so pissed…well, ever.”

“You probably won’t ever see her that pissed unless you stick around.” Robert sighed, “Threnn doesn’t yell, or curse, that much. Only if she’s really pissed and only if she’s really comfortable…”

“So a stern talkin’ ta…”

“Is her way of expressing herself without really caring. You should have heard her the time she yelled at Annie after…”

“After…”

“Bricu. Robert said as clearly as he could muster, “You’re not as bad as I expected. In fact, you’ve got more potential than a few of the others we’ve met.”

“Oi, figured yeh’d come ’round ta me way o’thinkin’ sooner rather than later.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you everything I know about the the Al’Cair family.” Robert said.

“Boyo, it isn’t like I want ta get in an advantage here. I’m not lookin’ ta scam her. Like I said earlier, I’m in this fer the long haul. I can’t make this work if I try an’ cheat it, right?”

“Hell, I almost believe you’re sincere. I’d completely believe you if you didn’t twist my arm to smoke these foul death sticks. Now help me up. We should get inside shortly.”

“Even if Marketa hasn’t given us the go-ahead.” Bricu helped Robert up, then helped him steady himself.

“Even if. I’m feeling guilty enough as it is. Now never tell that to Threnny, otherwise she’ll think it will work on me.”

“Me lips are sealed. Unless she tricks it outta me. She’s a dastardly cunnin’ one.”

“If she gets you, you’re a feckless bastard.”

“Better than a poncey git.” Bricu walked to the bar back door. “Remember Robert, she only yells at yeh ’cause she cares ’bout yeh.”

Robert, still swaying slightly, extended his middle finger at Bricu.

“I do this because I am now quite fond of you as well, Bittertongue. Don’t fuck it up.”

Bricu bowed low and opened the door for Robert. With a flourish, he welcomed Robert back inside the Longwell’s barn.

–

Josiah Longwell was slinging drinks as fast as Marketa had been before the fight. Marketa was behind the bar holding a clean, wet bartowel to his forehead. Threnn leaned against the bar, scowling at the back door.

Robert walked in first, hunched over to keep himself hidden from the other patrons. He made his way to William as quickly as he could. He steadied himself by

“Will, look, I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner.”

William turned his neck slowly to look at his brother. He grimaced in pain and sharply inhaled.

“It’s alright.” He whispered, “you’re here now.”

“About time too.” Threnn said.

Bricu made his way through the door towards Threnn. He saddled up next to her. She barely noticed his presence.

“I’m sorry.” Robert said. “I didn’t know he was so hurt.” Despite his hand on William’s shoulder, he swayed back and forth.

“I am.” William coughed. “Is Bricu here?”

“Aye.” Bricu said. He stood his ground near Threnn and watched Robert sway drunkenly near his brother. He felt Threnn shift–leaning towards the brothers Bell–but he looked towards William.

“Come closer, I can’t see you.” Wiliam whispered.

“Och, I don’t want ta crowd Robert.” Bricu said. He looked to Threnn, who turned away towards the front of the bar, and caught the slightest glimpse of a grin.

Robert, however, moved closer.

“Did you really get hurt?”

“No.” William said softly, “you cost me five gold crowns because you fell for it you sod.” He swung his right hand, balled into a tight fist, into his brother’s thing. Robert fell to the ground, clutching his leg, screaming in pain.

“When the hell did you fall for something so bloody obvious? Honestly, did you think Threnny wouldn’t have dragged your no good ass back into the bar if I was really hurt?”

Robert said nothing intelligible. He writhed on the floor, in drunken agony, clutching his wounded leg.

“Nnnnnhhhh!” He moaned.

Satisified with his brother’s pain, William turned back to Marketa. Neither Threnn nor Bricu could hear them over the wounded Robert. Josiah Longwell turned his back long enough to glare at Marketa, william ans Robert, as well as catch Bricu’s order for two more ciders. Josiah slid the mugs towards the two and Threnn intercepted them. She handed one to Bricu and the clinked their mugs.

“They normally like this?” Bricu asked.

“No, not normally. I think you brought this out of them.” Threnn said.

“I do try ta bring the best outta folk. Reckon it’s a gift.”

“Truly, you are blessed by the Light, a leader of men and women.”

“I know love. I’m just like Lothar ‘imself. As fer me troops…” Bricu pointed at Robert, still writhing on the ground. “When is he gonna give that up?”

“Probably when William gets closer to him, so Robert can hit him back.”

As if on cue, William, still huddled next to Marketa, leaned towards Robert. Bricu could not hear them over the crowd, but he thought Robert was playing possum, clutching his leg far lower than where William had punched him. Robert was also laying in a puddle of spilled spirits and cider, and he was not complaining about this one bit. He gestured with his mug of Cider to Threnn. They watched as William leaned ever closer to Robert. Juast as William was hovering over Robert, Robert took his hands–now dripping with the mix of cider and spirts–and put his fingers into Williams year. WetWilly will need an edit
-Martin Gleason 12/13/10 11:31 AM

“HA!” He yelled. William struggled and pulled away, back to a now giggling Marketa.

“Is this how they normally act in public?”

“Actually, no. Usually the gang up on their target and make them weep. They didn’t try that when I was gone, did they?”

“No love, like I said, we were dsicussin’ the fine points o’Northern Cookin’.” Bricu lied with ease. “I think they liked me from the start.”

Threnn did not respond intially. She scooted closer to Bricu and wrapped an arm around his waist, all the while watching the Bells devolve. They at least had the sense to give Marketa some space, even if they were still horsing around behind the bar.

“Normally, my minions are much more fearsome.” She said.

“I saw the trick robert did ta william. The wet willy is against the Church’s Orders o’War. We could get excommunicated fer such behavior.”

“This is why I employ minions, love. So I don’t have to get my hands dirty.”

Bricu wrapped an arm around Threnn, “I’ve vanquished yer minions love. So now what’s gonna happen.”

“Just wait.” Threnn whispered in his ear. “When the Bells are done showing off for you, we’ll head back home.”

Bricu watched as the Bells tumbled outside the barback door, and Marketa stormed after them. “I am the very picture o’patience, love.” He sipped at his cider, wishing–for the first time he could remember–to get home before the bars closed.

—

Josiah passed the last two mugs of cider out to Bricu and Threnn as he guided them gently to the door. The rest of the barn was empty–save a few of the hired help, who was currently cleaning the floor of sawdust, cornstalks, spilled cider, and few less-than-polite puddles of liquid–and Josiah had to have Marketa take Robert and William to their coach ride. He walked behind them, gently ushring them out by placing one hand on their entwined arms.

“Consider these parting gifts as my thanks for not getting hauled off by the watch for that…disagreement.” Josiah said.

“S’notaproblem.” Bricu slurred. “S’ourpleasure. Who’d a’e guess’d t’ere’d be a fight with ta Bells? They’re bloody delightful.” Bricu’s accent, more pronounced thanks to his family’s cider, made it nearly impossible for him to understand him.

“Told yeh you’d love’m.” Threnn slurred. Josiah shook his head at Threnn’s bad northern accent. He pushed them ever so slightly forward, towards the open door.

“Yes yes. They are both fantastic. Thank you both for coming and not killing our guests!” Josiah said. He watched as they stood outside, leaning on each other for support, swaying with the wind. He waited a moment before slamming the doors shut and locking them from the inside.

“Cute,” he said, “but it will never last.”

Outisde of the bar, obvilous to the predictions of doom, Bricu and Threnn walked slowly down the well-lit path towards the the carriage station. It was not a long walk, it was just made more complicated by the copious amounts of cider in their blood.

“Och, we should go dancin’.” Bricu said. He took her right hand with his left, and tried to pull her into a spin. Threnn didn’t budge, and Bricu was forced to bend his knees to finish the twirl.

“No.” Threnn said as Bricu spun around, “I’m not going dancing. We just had the Rose Ball.”

“An yeh were great at the ball. But ‘e could go jig er somethin’ less formal. Somethin’ more fun!”

“I have fun planned…justgotta make it to the carriage.”

“Yer Bells’ll be right there, waitin ‘fer us. Awfully sweet o’me ta offer ‘em a ride back.” Bricu said. “Maybe they can convince yeh ta go dancin’…”

“No one is dancing, love.” Threnn said.

They bantered back and forth about dancing. Threnn hinting that her plans were better without dancing, Bricu arguing that dancing made everything better. Bricu continued to demonstrate how he could dance–each step, jig and slide more clumsy than the last–while Threnn grew more tired with each step. By the time they had reached the carriage, they had come to an agreement: They would nap in the carriage, and chose their next step when the reached Stormwind.

At the stand, they saw their driver, whose livery was slightly more disheveled than they remembered, closing the door to the carriage. The slamming door brought them back to their senses, if only for a moment.

“OI!” Bricu yelled.

“Sir!” Threnn yelled.

“Hush!” Robert yelled back. He leaned drunkenly out the window of the carriage. “Bricu, Threnny! Look, William and I are going to take this carriage back. We’ll send him back just after he drops the four of us off…”

“Four?” Bricu asked. As if on cue, William and two other women–both paladins assumed one was Marketa–laughed.

“Yes yes. Four. Now then…just do what lovebirds do in fall, and you will both be fine.”

“The fuck do lovebirds do?” Bricu asked.

“They cuddle.” William said from inside the carriage.

“Robert and william bell, you both get your no good arses out of the carriage, or so help me, I will….”
“An extra five crowns if you leave now, sir!” Williams yelled. The Carriage driver whiped the horses forward.

Robert, still leaning from teh carriage, yelled after them. “You’re both soldiers! Soldier on!”

Bricu bent down to find a rock to whip at him ,but by the time he found one suitable enough, the carriage was too dark to see. He threw the stone for good measure, then turned to Threnn.

“So then. Now what?”

“Well.” Threnn said calmly, “We could dance?”

—

They stumbled off the well marked path and walked farther into the Longwell’s Orchard. The torchlight from the road faded and soon their only sources of light were the moon and the stars above.

“How do you know where to go?” Threnn asked. She stifled her yawn–and a giggle–as Bricu stumbled forward.

“Course I do. Josiah told me himself that we could stay there.”

“You talked to him before we left?” Threnn asked.

“Long before. It’s a standin’ invite.” Bricu stopped for a moment and looked around the orchard. The trees were organized in perfectly straight rows. He turned right and walked half a dozen steps before turning around and heading in the opposite direction.

“You know where we’re going?”

“Och, I said it…didn’t I?” Bricu said warily. “Besides, there’s a number o’cottages ’round here. Standin’ invite on any o’them”

“Did Josiah give you a key?”

“What’d I need a key fer?” Bricu said.

“How else are we getting into a cabin? You can’t charm a door.”

“Yer right.” Bricu picked up the pace into a clearing. “Yeh knock a door down. Yeh charm a lock.”

“Charm a lock. You sound quite pleased with yourself with that, Mr. Bittertongue.” Threnn said.

“But I am pleased, Ms. Al’Cair. I mean, why wouldn’t I be?” Bricu said, grinning. “Other than the fact that yer friends stole our ride.”

“They only do such dastaradly deeds to impress people they like, love.”

“So they must truly adore us, aye?” Bricu said. He stopped in the clearing, just short of the house that he led them to. Threnn was looking at it–more a log cabin than a house, with shuttered windows and a brightly painted door–when Bricu passed her a flask.

“Oi, Drink up.” he said.

“I’m a bit woozy as it is. I’ll pass.”

“Och, its not more booze love. It’s a preventative measure. Drink up, it’ll be good fer the mornin’.”

“What’s in the morning?” Threnn said after taking a pull. Morning Glory Dew. “This is your preventative measure?”

“Keeps the headaches ta a mild irritation an’ quells the nasuea. Trust a drunk with the ambitions of a gourmand to figure a proper cure.”

“Mr. Bittertongue, I’m impressed. Now then, how are you going to charm a lock?”

Bricu walked up to the door and studied it carefully. The door, which had at least three coats of paint to it, had no knocker. He gave the door a series of three sharp raps. When no one answered, he started to pay attention to the lock itself. A standard Orwell and Tassiter lock was on the front: A simple key and an easy one to pick if one had experienced.

“Strewth.” He said, “Its been years since I’ve done this kind.” He squatted in front of the door to get a better look. If I had light and better tools, he though, this would be so bloody simple.
“You’ve charmed locks before?”

“Love, I wasn’t always a paladin. Fer a while, I was considerin’ joinin’ up with a…let’s say a crew with an enterpenerual bent.”

“How’d that turn out?”

Bricu looked over his shoulder to see Threnn shivering in the cold. She was standing watch, making sure that no one would get to close for comfort. Drunk as he was, the gesture warmed his heart.

“Why bother thinkin’ about how I could’ve fucked. I prefer the way things turned out.”

“Good. Then charm the door. Its bloody cold out here.”

“Got a pin I can borrow, love?”

“Don’t tell Anna that I ruined hours of her work just so you could impress me with your charm.” Threnn reached into her hair and started pulling out all of Annalea’s carefully placed bobby pins. She handed him a handful with a wink.

“Wouldn’t say a word.” Bricu said.

The first two pins broke as he twisted them into the right shape. The third started to bend in the lock itself. It took all of Bricu’s fading, and intoxicated, concentration to get the pin out before it broke. The fourth pin worked, but broke off in the lock.

“Good enough,” he said. Bricu pushed the door open and bowed before Threnn. “Ladies first.”

“Always the gentleman.” Threnn said as walked into the cabin. She did not stop shivering.

“It is a bit warmer in here…Bricu?” She turned around and noted that while the door was still open, Bricu was no where to be seen.

“Where did go?” She asked. Threnn looked about the small one-room cabin noting the hearth, a small table and a rather large four post bed. She stood in the middle of the cabin, swaying slightly from the cider, before remember that the door was still open. She walked to close it and stopped just short of shutting the door in Bricu’s face.

“We’ll need a fire.” He said. Threnn wasn’t sure if he was swaying or if she was.

“You need my help?” Threnn said. She shut the door behind him

“I’ve set fires in a blizzard, after a fight with a gut wound. I’ve been….” Bricu stopped in mid boast while Threnn wrapped her arms around his chest and kissed the back of his neck.

“Have you made a fire while distracted?” She asked.

Bricu narrowed his eyes and focused on the kindling at the bottom of the firepit. “Not like this,” he muttered.

“It has to be easier,” Threnn said between kisses, “with a lighter than with a standard issue spark box.”

“Right now, it makes no bloody difference one way or the other. At this rate, I’ll be settin’ me shirt on fire ‘fore I get these bloody sticks to light.”

“I’ll stop distracting you…actually, I can contribute to the cold weather discussion. It’s part of Southron Baisc, you know.”

“Truly?” Bricu said. He tried to steady himself and light a handful of kindling at once, but the kindling simply smouldered.

“No peeking.”

“I’m not ’bout ta peek.” Bricu said, glancing over his shoulder. He was rewarded with a warning shot–Threnn’s shoe–that sailed just past his nose.

“OI!” He shouted over Threnn’s giggles, “That could’ve…”

“But it didn’t. Now, work on the fire. I’m doing my part.”

Bricu focused on the task at hand. He heard rustling and something fall to the ground. He turned his head slightly, but Threnn yelled, “I have one more shoe, Mr. Bittertongue.”

He grumbled as he focused on the task at hand. He repositioned the logs, moved the kindling and even looked for bits of cloth to use as additional kindling.

“If I’d have known I’d need ta make a fire, I’d have had less ta drink.” He muttered to the fire pit.

“Hmm?” Threnn said from the other side of the cabin. “Oh, you can peek now.”

“Lightin’ fires is harder…” Bricu looked over his shoulder to see Threnn, in the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. Piled on the floor, next to the bed, were her clothes.

“Light the fire love, then come to bed.” Threnn covered her mouth to yawn, “Its getting late.”

Bricu turned back to smoking but not-yet-sparked-fire and redoubled his efforts.

“Brilliant bit o’motivation there, love.”

“Body heat keeps you warm. At least, thats what we were told in basic.” Threnn yawned a second time and her second shoe dropped to the floor. She laughed it off.

“I’m glad yeh introduced me ta yer Bells, love. Made me week.” Bricu noted a small spark in the kindling. He blew on it to fan it, but it sputtered and went out. “Wee fucker.” He whispered.

“They’ve pestered since Anna said it sounded ‘serious.’”

“Serious?”

“That’s what Anna said.”

“Why would yer sister think we were serious?” Bricu said. Another spark came and went, so he readjusted the entire woodpile again.

“Maybe it was the Rose Ball. Or the dress. Or the hair.”

“Or all three?”

Threnn hummed her response.

Another spark in the kindling. This time, Bricu waited till more of the kindling caught. “Well, I’m serious.” He said before gently blowing on the kindling. This time, the sparks kept burning.

“Really now?” Threnn whispered back.

“Aye. I stopped callin’ e’er other woman love an’ I spend far too much o’me time thinkin’ ’bout yeh.”

“Go on.”

“An’ tell yeh e’erthin’? Och, not t’night.”
Bricu moved the logs once more, not to position them for the fire, but to stall and get his words in order.

“All I’m gonna say, love, is that yeh make me happier than the Black an’ Red an’ that e’er day with yeh is e’en better than the last. Yeh’ve made me dance. No one’s made me dance in years, an’ I’ve missed that…”

Confident that he had both the right words and that the fire was finally lit, Bricu stood up and turned back to Threnn. He started to finish his thought. “I’m sayin’ that I’m…”

Threnn was rolled over on her side. She was not holding the blankets up to her chin, so he could see the curve of her shoulder. He breathing was deep and regular, though Bricu was certain he could hear the beginning of a snore.

“I’ll wait.” He said quietly.

Bricu opened the door and scrubbed his hands off in the snow. After holding them by the fire to warm them and dry them, he took off his finery and crawled into the bed with Threnn. She cuddled closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her. He fell asleep soon after.

–

The fire was long dead when Threnn woke up. The smell of the fire had permeated the room, but she did not hear any popping logs or smouldering embers. A moment of panic struck her–why wasn’t she more concerned about a fire in her room. Mrs. Stone’s apartment didn’t have a fire place. Threnn opened her eyes to a vaguely familiar room. A small cabin with a hearth. Her clothes in a pile on the floor. Bricu laying next to her. That alone brought no small degree of comfort.

Threnn rolled over and watched him sleep. Bricu’s face was pushed into the pillow, pulling up the corner of his mouth. One arm was thrown over her, but he was not holding her tight. Threnn ran her fingers over the stubble on his cheek and Bricu didn’t stir. He was sound asleep. She laid there, warm and comfortable, with the one concern in the world.

This was someone else’s house.

Threnn watched Bricu sleep, still as a stone, before giving in to her worry. She kissed him, full on the mouth, to wake him. Her plan worked, possibly too well, and Bricu, now wide awake, kissed her back. He pulled her on top of him with ease, and broke off the kiss.

“Promise ta wake up me like this e’ery mornin’, an’ I’ll make yeh breakfast there after.”

“That’s all it takes?” Threnn said, “I can do that. But for now, we have to go.”

Threnn started to pull herself away, but Bricu held her close.

“There’s no hurry, is there love?” He asked.

“We don’t know who lives her.”

“It’s the Longwell’s cabin.” Bricu ran his fingers up Threnn’s back, sending a pleasant tingle up her spin. She arched her back in response and gave a token effort of pulling away.

“We don’t know when they’re coming back.” Threnn said.

“Later.” Bricu answered. He played with her hair.

“What if its sooner?”

“Love, if its sooner, I can throw a boot–or a shoe–at the door ta tell ‘em ta bugger off.” Bricu pulled her close to kiss her cheek, then her neck.

“We don’t even know what time it is.”

“Do we really care what time it is? S’not like we have a job or somethin’ ta get done t’day, do we? T’day’s our day off.”

“But…” Threnn said.

Bricu stopped kissing her and stopped running his hands down her back. “If yeh want ta leave, we can. Or, we can lie here an’ enjoy our luck an’ each other. Then I promise I’ll the place an’ we can get breakfast somehwere.”

She paused, weighing her options. She started to pull herself away, and Bricu let her go. He shifted in the bed, when Threnn put her hands on his shoulders and held him in place. Threnn kissed him on the mouth, then the neck back up to his cheek. She leaned into whisper in his ear.

“Make me breafkast like you promised, and we have a deal.”

“Every mornin’.” He said.

Threnn put her hands back on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. He smiled, then laughed, as he ran his hands down the outside of her thighs.

“I promise. Love.” He said softly.

“I know, Love.” Threnn said.

I’ve deleted Bricu from Feathermoon and moved him, and as much of his story, to Rifts. Here are the screenies to prove it:

and

As you can see, I’m not sure if I’m going Guardian or Defiant. Threnn asked me to pick a faction, then we’ll start their story over. Or something. Who knows. RP is totally dead though. Just ask us next week.

Neither Bricu, nor Threnn, have Antisocial Personality Disorder. While Bricu might score as high on the checklist, he has far too many protective factors to have high levels of psychopathy. Threnn’s scores would be, at best, average. Regardless of their scores, Harvest Ball is a newish story from the early days of their relationship. They’ve arrived at the Barn, but they have yet to meet the infamous Brothers Bell.

The Longwell’s barn was packed by the time Bricu and Threnn made their entrance. Unlike most Southron parties, it was not a servant that announced the couple. Instead, Josiah Longwell, the heir apparent of the Longwell’s farms and orchards, greeted them the same way he greeted every invited guest: With a mug of cider.

“Threnody! Bricu!” Josiah said. He plunged two mugs into the barrel of the amber liquid. The cider sloshed into the mugs, and the scent of spiced apples grabbed their attention.

“Thank you both for coming.” He handed the first mug to Threnn first, the second to Bricu. Josiah took his mug, topping it off with ladel of cider, and toasted the couple’s health. Threnn and Bricu returned the gesture, careful not to spill any of the cider back into the barrel.

“Thank you for the invite.” Threnn said. She took a healthy swig from her mug.

“Cheers mate!” Bricu said before slamming half of the cider.

“I’m glad you both could make it, although…” Josiah gave Threnn a wink, “Your mother did not say you would be bringing Master Bittertongue.”

“Did Thenia say who my date would be?” Threnn asked. Bricu could hear the irritation creep into her voice. Either Josiah didn’t hear it or he didn’t pay any attention.

“Oh, she had a list. Thomas Maunt was at the top of it. I was in the middle.” Josiah laughed, “No offense Threnn, but your mother has no clue about my tastes. My ‘guest’ is hobnobbing with the gentry.” Josiah nodded to well dressed, man at least ten years older than Bricu or Threnn. He looked back at Josiah frequently. “I mean, we’ve been together for five years. You would think she knows.”

Threnn said, “She knows, she just hopes for something else.” Bricu took another sip of his Cider. Josiah gave Bricu another ladel.

“Yer a brilliant host.” Bricu said. Josiah smiled and winked at him.

“Now tell me” Josiah placed a hand on Threnn’s forearm. “is she going to give you any trouble for bringing our Bricu?” asked Josiah.

“She can’t get pissed if two folk show up t’the same party.” Bricu said.

“Bricu has his own invite…”

“That’s right!” Josiah said, “How dense of me! You helped the family address some … unpleasantness a few months ago. Where are your friends?.”

“They’re indisposed.” Bricu said, sipping at his cider.

“That’s a shame. Give Makarah my best, will you?”

“Certainly boyo, certainly.”

“How many more were you expecting?” Threnn asked.

“Oh, we invited at least another twenty adventures of various stripe and station.” He looked past Bricu and Threnn to the couple that just entered the barn. “Oh look. Lady Gontaut has yet another new young escort. She’s old enough to be his grandmother. Still.” He dipped two more mugs into the barrel, “Excuse me while I talk the blue bloods up a bit more. You two go enjoy the party!”

“Of course.” Threnn said

“Cheers mate.” Bricu slid his arm around Threnn’s waist and led her away. Josiah gave them a polite nod before greeting Lady Gontaut with the respect due her station.

They waded into the sea of guests and party goers. Bricu craned his neck, scanning the crowd for the infamous Bellsm while Threnn made a bee-line to the bar.

“Yeh see ‘em?” He asked.

“No, I can’t see anything but the back of the crowd. But I know where they’re going to be.”

“An’ where’d that be love?” Bricu pulled his arm from her waist to let her lead the way.

“By the bar. Willliam will be flirting with Marketa Longwell.”

“Sounds smart.” Bricu said.

“It is. This way, he keeps her company and he gets cheaper drinks.”

“What’s Marketa think ’bout it?”

“Usually, she prefers the company, and the flirting is mostly harmless.” Threnn said. She continued to snake through the crowd.

“Really?”

“Oh, they both prefer flirting to actually being with each other.” Threnn said.

“Nothin’ serious then?”

Threnn nodded, “This way they can flirt, keep off underiserables and make each other feel better. It’s a win-win.”

“Sounds clever.” Bricu said.

“It was William’s idea.” Threnn said.

“Yeh’d figure that one o’them wouldn’t be pleased with the idea after they gave it a shot.”

“No.” Threnn said, “Love, it’s hard to stay mad at a Bell for long.”

“Och, I need t’learn their tricks.” Bricu said.

Threnn glanced over her shoulder. “It’s innate love.” She said, “If you haven’t managed to do it by now, I don’t think you’ll ever get it.”

“Strewth, the more yeh tell me ’bout the Bells, the more it sounds like I’m in way o’er me head.”

Threnn smiled back at him, and for the first time that night, Bricu started to feel a hint of worry. “The bar is this way.” She said. Threnn weaved in and out of the crowd, with Bricu following her lead.

“I need you to hold onto this for me.” Threnn slid the box across the counter and watched the Bells’ eyebrows raise.

Robert picked it up and rubbed his thumb across the smooth-polished surface. “This is one of ours, Threnny.” He and William shared an identical dubious glance. “What are we supposed to do with it?”

“Just keep it for me, for a little while.” She gave them her best smile, but they were having none of it. All of Stormwind knew by now that the banners had been called. Still, Robert might have let her get away without digging any deeper, but Will slipped his fingers along the seam and prised open the lid.

Inside, on cushions of silk, were a small fortune in rings, necklaces, and earrings. Atop all of them rested a letter, one word inscribed in Threnn’s flowing hand: [i]Naiara[/i]

Robert hissed in a breath, then threw her a glare that would have sent most sensible people scurrying. “I’m not fucking discussing this with you.” He moved around his brother, grabbed his toolbox, and stalked over to the door. “You’re comin’ back, Threnny, an’ that’s the end of it. Will, if you’ve any sense, you won’t entertain this… this…” His voice broke. He stood there, staring at her in mute rage for a moment, until the tears welled in his eyes. Then he spun on his heel and walked out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.

Threnn and Will stood silently while Robert’s boots stomped up the stairs to the apartment he shared with his brother and his father. That door slammed as well, making the shavings of sawdust tremble on the counter.

“Don’t mind him,” said Will. “He’s spent the morning being reminded that we learned to make coffins before ever we made cradles.”

She smiled. “We’ll be back, Will. This is just… a precaution.”

His brow furrowed, an echo of the hurt Robert had so loudly expressed. “You don’t hand over your things and write letters like that if you believe–”

“Will.” The warning note in her voice was unmistakeable.

He subsided, dipping two long fingers into the box and coming out with an amethyst ring, mounted in silver. “It’s fine work. Always has been.”

“I told him someday he’d be making rings for queens. She’s still just a princess right now, but she’ll grow into them.”

“And you’ll be there to see it.” When Threnn didn’t answer, Will sighed and put the ring back, closed the lid on the box. “Threnny.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not making your coffin. You hear me? Bricu’s either. So you’d both better come home, or you’re spending eternity in a box of subpar quality.” He reached across the counter and took her hand. “You come home, and give these to her yourself. Clear?”

The seconds ticked away on the shop’s clock as they regarded one another. For once, Threnn dropped her gaze first. “That’s the plan.”

“Good girl. Now fuck off, yeah? I hear there’s some big to-do up North you ought to be at.”

Threnn looked up at the ceiling, towards the apartment above. “Should I go see him?”

“Nah. He’s liable to say something stupid. I’ll have him buzz you later, when he’s feeling appropriately contrite.” Will came around the counter and wrapped his arms around her.

Threnn breathed in the scent of sawdust and wood polish that had been a comfort to her since childhood. Eventually she pulled away, her eyes dry. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Damned right.” He tousled her hair and dodged her swat. When the door closed behind her and Threnn had melded into the foot traffic heading for the trade district, Will sank to his knees and said a prayer, begging the gods to watch over them all.

Naiara Bittertongue

Naiara Bittertongue exists as a series of emotes, drawings and exquisitely timed phonetically spelled swear words. She doesn’t have a class. She has no profession. She does not even have an avatar. She does, however, consume a significant amount of RP. In return, she generates more than her fair share of Bricu/Threnn stories, ideas and vignettes. It should be no surprise, then, that Naiara was a huge factor in how the Bittertongues decided to deal with Arthas. This is how the Bricu prepared for war.

Thenia refused to think of her daughters and her son in law. Both daughters, her no good son-in-law and her nearly-perfect granddaughter had arrived to tell her, in person, that the Highlord had called the banners. The Riders were going to war, which meant her daughters were at risk… Instead, she focused on her still limping husband, who was stubbornly insisted on putting their granddaughter to bed.

“Sit and relax Thenia.” Padraig said, “You worked all day. Besides, I usually put her to bed. You can get her ready when she gets up in the morning.”

She noted that Padraig didn’t mention how Naiara did not want to come near her, or how Naiara fussed when he left the room. She was thankful that Padraig didn’t use the words, “phase, stage or fussy.” He just left it alone. Thenia almost smiled at her husbands kindness.

To keep her thoughts from drifting to Dalaran–and worse–Thenia kept herself busy by sorting through Naiara’s bags. Threnn and Bricu left her: sets of clothes, cloth diapers, homemade snacks and more stuffed animals than any little girl really needed. Each bag was meticiulously packed and ordered, and contained far more than what was necessary for “one last battle.”

At the bottom of the biggest bag, she found a large enevlope. It was addressed to Naiara, not to her, in Bricu’s hand writing. Thenia didn’t need instructions on how to take care of her granddaughter, and as clever as Naiara was, she was still years away from learning her letters. Her son-in-law left her a mystery. A mystery she carried with her to the kitchen, where she made herself some tea. As the kettle boiled, she checked to make sure no one in the house was watching her–a useless precaution given that she could hear Padraig reading a story to Naiara–and steamed the envolpe open.

She took out a collection of letters. Some were short notes, others were multiple page affairs. Some were written in Threnn’s handwriting, some in Bricu’s. All of them were dated. Most were dated for Naiara’s birthday, but Thenia found one with today’s date–a long letter written by Bricu–and read it.

My wee girl,

Your Da.

Thenia folded the letter up and put it back into the envelope. She listened for Padraig or Naiara, but neither was making a sound. For the moment, Thenia was completely alone in her home. She sat in her chair and let herself worry about her family, in the North.

All the tired, drawn, hopeful faces in the Gilded Rose turned towards them, studying them with a curiosity that bordered on avarice. The two women looked nothing alike, really, and neither of them remotely resembled the man. But in that moment, the smiles on their faces were all of a kind.

Tarquin glanced between the other two, puffing pensively, until Fells nudged him in the ribs as a necessary step of her dance of agonized impatience. The boss snorted and took a step forward. There were at least twenty people down in the common room, and they were all looking to him for an answer – and for once, the prospect didn’t worry him in the least. After all, it was pretty simple.

He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, spread his hands, and found Padraig and Thenia in the crowd. “Master Al’Cair, Missus Al’Cair – yeh’ve a lovely gran’daughter. Naiara Bittertongue, yeh lot!” The second half was shouted quite loudly, because at that point near on every soul in the room had burst into raucous cheers. Tarquin turned to Annalea, Fells being occupied shouting herself hoarse. “Job oughta be like this mair often,” he murmured.

Annalea smirked at him. “What makes you think it can’t?” Chortling, Naiara’s godfather stepped down into a welcoming sea of strangers who were, tonight, his bosom companions. A drink was in order.

–
She’d dug the vial up from beneath the rowan tree just after Threnn’s first call. In the morning light, the mixture’s glow was barely discernible, as much a product of the sun filtering through the crystal as it the magic swirling around inside. When she went upstairs to catch a few more hours of sleep, she laid a strip of white cloth in her windowbox and placed the vial on top of it, so it could gather the sun’s warmth. Blessed by day and night and in-between.

When the time came, the vial rode in her pocket all the way across the city, nestled close to her heart. It stayed there as they counted off the hours, as people came and went. When Threnn put an arm around her shoulder for yet another walk around the room, Anna twined her sister’s fingers with her own, and every step became a syllable of the Name she’d written with the goddess as her witness.

Then came the hours of blood and pain, where the body that had never been anything but hale and hearty betrayed Threnn at last. While they waited for Indarra to arrive, Anna exchanged worried looks with Haemon, and thought of the fading cries of kits in a cave.

But then, at last, there was a girl, a tiny baby in Fells’ careful hands, letting out her first shuddering cries as she was given into her father’s arms, and then her mother’s.

Anna still had Threnn’s blood on her hands as she edged closer to Bricu and reached for the vial, but that was all right; it would only strengthen the spell. A mother will bleed for her child just as much as a father does, after all. She bent over her sister and her niece as she unstoppered the vial and poured some of its contents on her fingertips. It was warm as it splashed out, whether from her own body, or whether it had retained the sun’s heat, she’d never know.

Bricu placed his hand on her back as she brushed sigils on the baby’s forehead, lips and heart with gentle fingers. Anna looked up, waiting for Threnn’s permission. Her sister brushed sweat-darkened hair from her eyes, and nodded.

Annalea smiled, and whispered a Name in the curve of one tiny ear:

Etaine.

Thenia al’Cair was an exception, but as time has gone on, the woman has grown increasingly fretful. Deeming this unhelpful to Threnn, Annalea finally ushers her mother out of the room, closing the door gently but firmly behind her.

* Bricu fidgets.
* Haemon sighs.

Well. That’s one thing out of the way. I’ll be hearing about it for the next ten years.

She’s gonna be a fuckin’ mess Annie.

You want her to be a fucking mess up here or down there?

As long as yer mum don’t bring it up every year from now… Down there is fine.

I personally would prefer she not be here to upset Threnn. Speaking of which,

Threnn, are we up for another few laps around the room?

* Threnn grimaces.

Careful now…careful, jest. Don’ -hurt- her none. …more.

Ought to have built me one of those hamster wheels.

Ah, the lad kens ‘is business.

I should look into that. Portable running wheels for expectant mothers. I expect I would lose all my patients.

There’s a touch mair at it’n jus’ havin’ ‘em walk circles, innit?

Well

Nah. They’d want to keep them for losing the baby weight after.

I would merely expect they would be insulted, actually.

* Threnn sighs and gets to her feet anyway.
* Haemon helps.
* Fells rushes to help, anxious.

Oi, love, yeh…

* Tarq stays the hell out of the way.
* Bricu watches his wife get surrounded by help.

Yeh know, I thought she’d be…I dunno, lyin’ down or somethin’?

Think tha’s fer the later, Bric. Mean, innit?

Myst’ries ay childbirth.
I think, auld boy, thit by the time this eve’s done wir both ta ken mair’n we ivir wanted.

s’all part o’me plan for omniscience.

Walking helps. Gravity. Really. It works this way.

This helps make her comfortable. And um.
That.

Och. Distractin’ sounds more like it.

* Threnn eyes the men from where she’s propped up between Haemon and Fells.

Wouldja rather concentrate onnis?
* Fells gives Bricu a Look.

How long until we throw them out?

Strewth, I’m just concentratin’ on me lovely wife s’all.

‘s long as they’re not channelling my mother, they can stay.

Now there’s a terrifyin’ thought.

strewth.

Isn’t it?

I can picture it now.

* Haemon leads Threnn around the room, slowly.
* Threnn makes a slow circuit.

Oh, bloody…

What?

Whatsit? Threnny?

Oi, missus, yeh alright?

* Threnn grits her teeth.
‘s fine. Nature.

* Fells winces at her grip, but squeezes back all the same.
Don’ fret, we’s here.

Awright, Threnny, jus’ another couple, eh?

* Threnn takes a few deep breaths.
If only, Tarq.
They’re closer, though. Least there’s that.

* Bricu absently reaches for his tobacco pouch, which is not on his belt.
S’a good thing, then, right?

It is. The more frequent the contractions, the closer we are to the birth.

Think so. Means she’s eagerer ta git free.
Out.
Born.
* Fells frowns.
Sorry. Not jest out, like…

Oi. Fellsie. We got it.

* Haemon pats Fells. It’s the “Okay, that’s enough” pat.
* Fells sighs.

* Threnn looks up again.
You, uh. Do I keep going?

You can lie down again, if you would like. At some point, I should likely see if you are dialating.

* Fells looks a smidge uncomfortably.
Not all’a us gots t’look, though. Ayeh?

Sweet Light, I hope not.

No. The fewer eyes, the better, really.

* Bricu grumbles.
yer damn right…

I volunteer ta stay here an’ study the wall.
No offense, Threnny.

M’kinda with Tarq onnat part.

None taken.

None taken.

Then we are all agreed, I believe.
* Haemon grimaces briefly, then returns to smiling placidly.
* Threnn starts steering back towards the bed.
* Haemon helps!
* Fells hobbles along.
Here, now, there…

Right.

* Threnn settles back down onto the bed.
Thank you.

Missus, yeh want for anythin’?

* Haemon takes out his pocketwatch, still silently counting from the last contraction.
* Fells rearranges pillows, more for wont of something to be useful doing than anything.

No, I’m all right, I think.
* Threnn closes her eyes as another hits.

* Haemon tucks his watch away.

Oi, Fellsie, mind if I scooch by yeh?

Five. We are progressing nicely.

Nono, ‘course. Here.
* Fells steps away, her eyes fixed on Threnn.
…looks like it hurts…

It’s the rumor.

* Fells winces.

Yeah, I can… confirm it.

Should I not mention it will likely get somewhat worse?

Awdamn.
* Fells bites her lip.

‘s what they say.

I…I don’t got a thing t’say.

They also say it is entirely worth it. Shall we see how we are doing?

I could juggle.
Do card tricks.

Yer gonna git smacked inna tick, Tarquin.

Oh, it’s not every mother who has her very own entertainer. I like this idea.

Yeh got a trick that’ll make the birth easier?

* Annalea rolls her eyes at her sister and gets a sheet, for privacy.

Ferget adventurin’ an’ makin’ money the hard way Tarq. Yeh can get a bunch o’ professional card sharks t’do tricks

As a sleight of hand artist, perhaps you could pull the baby from behind her ear?

I do, but it comes in a brown bottle an’ it’s prolly no’ recommended by medicine.

‘member a time when it was…

Actually, at this point, the baby is no longer being fed so much by mother, so….

So I could waddle down to the Pig and have a pint?

No, -no.-
* Fells does not see the jest.

Hypothetically. The larger risk would be the baby falling out and cracking its head on the pavement on the way.

Och, next lap, just down the stairs.

I agree, s’completely unacceptable.

* Bricu blinks.

A pint. What’re yeh thinkin’?
Whiskey does’na come in pints.

That’s an image I didn’t need Shad…
Strewth.
* Bricu whispers to Tarq.
* Tarq snorts laughter and claps Bricu on the shoulder.

* Threnn snickers at Tarquin.
Oh. Oh, ow.

Another? Already?

Yeah. Small one.

* Haemon straightens the sheet over Threnn.

* Fells looks confused.
They come in sizes?

Intensities.

Big ow, little ow.

All right, no more joking from me. You lot are free to continue. Laughter helps.

Doessit truly?
* Fells tries.
* Fells doesn’t do well.

Yeh heard the one ’bout the twa Stormwind boys wha’ went ta see the priest?

* Haemon crouches at the far end of Threnn.
* Annalea watches over Haemon’s shoulder.
Pardon me, apologies…

‘s all right.

Nah, never.

Right, so.
There’s these couple City lads. Let’s say it’s Robert an’
William Bell.
In the int’rest ay bein’ familiar, eh?

Aye, aye.

So they go ta confession at the Cathedral, ta talk ta Father Mackenzie. An’ Robert’s first.

* Haemon reaches and peers, still muttering apologies under his breath.

So he goes up ta the booth, an’ says “Forgive me, Father, for I’ve sinned. I had carnal knowledge ay an unmarried woman.”

* Threnn tries to see what Haemon’s doing, even though that’s physically impossible.

…brilliantly fuckin’ timed there Tarq….

Innit?

s’like the Light inspired yeh

An’ Father Mackenzie frowns an’ sighs, wi’ great disappointment, an’ says “Ah, my son, it grieves me ta hear this. Wha’ was the poor lassie?”
An’ Robert goes “I’m sorry, Father, I kinna tell yeh thit, I dinna wanna shame her.”
So the auld Father, he thinks ’bout lassies he knows from the young Bell’s neighborhood. “Was it, uh, Susan Creely, my boy?”
“Nah, father,” says Robert, “I kinna tell.”

* Haemon emerges from under the sheet.
About three inches. We should be crowning soon. Sorry to interrupt, do continue.

Crownin’?

“It’s virra important, me lad. Wis it-” nothin’ ay it, Shad – “Darce McKearn?”

We will see the baby’s head start to appear and push through.

Right…right.

Och, guid.

should’ve fuckin’ known that bit.

S’pose it’ll be a few years at least afore they put ‘er oan the throne, Bric.

At the least.

* Annalea snorts. “I think Robert *did* fuck Da–”
* Annalea shuts up.
* Fells blinks at Anna.

Anyhow. Robert says “I’m sorry, Father, I kinna say either wey.”

* Fells grins.

couple… only a couple.

An’ Father MacKenzie sighs. “I should know, for the benefit of her soul. Was it…”
* Tarq pauses and looks over at Annie, grinning slyly.

* Annalea puts on her angelic face.

“…Thenia Al’Cair?”
* Tarq keeps a perfectly straight face.

* Haemon fails not to laugh.

* Annalea blinks.
* Threnn blinks.

Yeh see, he wis tryin’ ta think ay lasses that’d…anyhow!
Robert still will’na tell ‘im.

* Fells snickers.
* Bricu snorts once, trying to keep from laughing. He glances once at Tarquin then keels over with laughter.

So fin’ly Father MacKenzie gies it up. “Aright, my son, I kin respect thit. So I’ll need yeh ta say ten Verses ay Pentinence an’ spend six hours in the church garden. Go an’ sin na more.”
An’ Robert walks out ay the booth an’ back ta the pew , an’ his brither asks “Aright, Robert, what’d he gie yeh?”
An’ Rob says “Ten verses, six hours in the garden, an’ three names.”
* Tarq clasps his fingers together and grins.

…
* Fells shakes her head, laughing.
That ain’t -right.-

* Threnn bursts out laughing.
* Haemon grins, ducks under, and calls out from within the sheet. “Three and a half!”

…is thit a measurement, or did I miss yin?

That was a measurement.

I think it was a joke, boss.

Sorry, I should specify. Inches.

* Fells holds her fingers apart, about yea wide.
* Haemon extends his arm out from under the sheet. It’s about thiiiiis far.
* Fells cocks her head.
You umn. You doin’ a’right there, Threnny?

Oh. I thought there wis a lass ay only half-doubtful virtue in the joke I fergot.
If yeh dinna mind, I’m gonna pretend thit’s what it wis.

You are welcome to.

* Tarq nods. It might just be his wardrobe, but he’s looking slightly green.

They wait. One hour, two. The contractions start coming closer together, lasting longer. Threnn’s in pain, but managing. Bricu and Fells take turns holding her hand, relieving one another when the need to fidget grows too strong. Tarq lounges, tries to keep everyone’s spirits up, and covers up his own nervousness with wisecracks.

Meanwhile, Shad begins to frown.

* Annalea glances towards Haemon.
* Haemon frowns. Deeply.

Anna, I think I need my buzzbox.

Och, why?

Fells, would you–it is in my bag…

* Tarq ‘s gaze snaps over to Haemon.
* Haemon stands up to stretch slightly.
* Threnn pushes herself up to her elbows.

The head disappeared. It crowned, and then it retracted. And I have no idea what it is doing, so I would like some advice.

Fells, overwhelmed by the circumstances, faints. (aka, internets go splat)

* Annalea helps Fells into a chair and retrieves Haemon’s buzzbox in her place.
* Tarq finger-drums on his knees, eyes flickering between Haemon and Threnn.

Bloody hell. Shad, who’re yeh callin’?

* Haemon takes it and awkwardly dials a frequency, glancing over at Bricu. He puts the thing down as quiet as he can.
A, ah….an acquaintance. More experienced than I.
* Haemon turns away from Bricu.

What’s happening?

Priestess?
Calling the baby hotline, that is all, no need to worry.

* Bricu smiles at Threnn
Shad’s callin’ fer advice.
An’ *just* advice.

Gonna keep everythin’ runnin’ smooth

* Bricu glances at Haemon
* Haemon mutters quietly into his box.
* Threnn squeezes Bricu’s hand, hard, as a contraction hits.

* Bricu doesn’t stop smiling.
It’s all right missus. S’allright.

* Annalea touches Haemon’s shoulder.
* Haemon turns around.
Hmm?
* Annalea nods towards the bed, trying not to look too alarmed. There’s blood.
* Haemon frowns slightly and crosses back to check, taking the box with him.

Threnn, are you in pain?

* Tarq keeps his face mask-still, fingers folded in front of his chest.

You talking intensities again?
Because ‘s fairly constant.

Are you currently feeling any -new- brand of pain. Stinging.

I…
* Threnn nods.

* Bricu looks around the room, then back at Threnn. His smile fades.
* Haemon frowns, and looks at Bricu.

You said anything, right?

Just gimme the fuckin’ name.

* Haemon pauses.
…Leafwhisper.

Slightly better than’ some fuckin’ Legionnaire’s name. Fine.
Anythin’ goes wrong…

* Haemon nods and goes back to the box.

She’s a professional.

…she can probably hear me.

Never lost a baby. Not in a thousand years, she said.

Heard it all afore.

* Bricu mutters, “except for the ones she killed.”
* Tarq gives Bricu a deadpan stare.

She is in her way. In the meantime, I want to try something…
* Haemon kneels on the bedside, pushing Threnn’s shoulders gently to the mattress.
Try to keep your spine straight, please.

…or a mother.
All right.

Let me know if this hurts more.

* Haemon presses gently on Threnn’s abdomen.
* Threnn shrieks. That’s a yes.
* Haemon releases immediately.
* Bricu pales.

Okay, so, not that then.

* Tarq hisses a muffled curse.

* Haemon grabs a rag from his bag and disappears under the sheet again.
Tarquin, will you let her in when she arrives?

Guessing that didn’t work?
* Threnn pants that.

Ayeh.

Indarra arrives a few minutes later, true to her word. She ignores pacing family, friends, and visitors in the guest room, making haste towards the steps. Her knuckles rap upon the door.

I am not seeing anything. I am going to try to patch you up a bit here, all right?

Whatever you have to do.

Aye.
Whatever.

* Tarq steps over to the door and, with a quick glance over his shoulder at Bricu, opens it up.
Lo, Indi.

* Bricu nods.
* Tarq smiles blandly.
* Indarra bows low, murmuring a “hello”. She’s in priestess robes with a huge white pearl on a gold chain around her neck. There are no shadows on her hands.

Evenin’. Indi.
* Threnn tries for some dignity.

* Bricu says a quick prayer.

* Tarq steps back and shuts the door.

Hello Threnn, everyone.

* Haemon emerges discreetly.

Oi.

* Indarra brings a medical bag to a small table, keeping her eyes downcast.
* Annalea makes room for Indarra’s things.
* Bricu watches Threnn.

Just so we’re clear, Haemon, Threnn, I lack magic this evening. I’ve found a way around shadows, but it keeps me shut off from all of my power.
* Indarra taps the necklace at her neck.

* Haemon nods.
I can handle healing. And I appreciate you coming.

I did make a promise.
* Indarra smiles faintly.

Can you… I mean, without, you still can…?
* Threnn gestures at herself.

Most of my births require very little magic.
. . . Yes.
* Indarra makes sure she sounds confident.

People been doin’ it a virra long time without, eh?

Aye.

* Haemon glances at Tarquin, and does not precisely agree.
I tried what you said, Priestess, and it just seemed to induce pain.

* Indarra finds water, and washes her hands meticulously, scrubbing them until they’re pink.
All right. I’ll take a look with you in a moment.

* Haemon nods, and steps back to wait. And fidget.

Is there something I should do? Or…?

* Bricu squeezes Threnn’s hand.

Tell me a story.
* Indarra smiles at her and approaches the foot of the bed.

* Bricu closes his eyes.

What kind of a story?

* Haemon moves to stand somewhere between Indarra and Bricu.

How about something from your childhood, a happy memory. When you have to breathe through a contraction, do so, but let’s hear a story.

* Bricu fidgets.
* Threnn lets her head fall back a moment while she thinks.
* Indarra lifts the sheet and peers beneath. “Apologies for the hands, but at least the water was warm, hmm?”

I… yeah. Thank you.
When I was ten, the, uh. The Bells. They were here. Did you meet them?

They must be some of the gents downstairs I passed.
* Indarra applies gentle pressure and motions Haemon over.

* Haemon steps over quickly.

Bricu, if you’d be kind enough to mop Threnn’s brow? Cool water. She’s likely over warm right now.

Decent lads, they seem.

* Annalea gets a bowl of water and brings it over to Bricu.

Where are the clean cloths?

They’re… they are. We were nearly raised together.

Here, Bricu.
* Annalea passes some over.

* Bricu takes a clean cloth and dips it into the water. He rings it out then mops Threnn’s brow.

So I was ten, and Anna was…

Nine.
* Annalea watches Threnn.

‘s shit.
You were seven. The Bells were nine.

* Indarra waits for another contraction, one of her hands – still clean – coming out to rest on the mound of Threnn’s stomach.

* Annalea nods at that. “All right.”

They sent us — our parents, that is — to Goldshire, before it was…
* Threnn cuts off, groaning.
‘nother, Indi.

* Indarra watches beneath the blanket and nods. Her eyes flick to Haemon.
* Haemon tilts his head questioningly.
Keep a monitor on the babe if you would?
* Indarra stands, swaddling her hands in cloth to keep them hidden from Threnn.

Is she all right?

Yes.

* Haemon nods and places his hands over Threnn’s abdomen, concentrating.

Keep telling the story, Threnny. They sent us to Goldshire.

* Bricu says softly, “for the love o’all that’s holy, would one o’yeh do somethin’ fer her godsdamned pain.”

* Haemon ‘s eyes flick to Indarra.
I have some herbs, if you do not think it will be a problem…no blood thinners.

As long as they don’t tire her. If it’s served in tea – perhaps cold tea, as she’s warm – I have no objection.
* Indarra looks at Bricu and Threnn.

…Goldshire. We had to buy something there, nails from the blacksmith.

* Haemon nods.

Shad, tell Kara t’get the water ready fer tea an’ some ice

Anna, you would do best with it. The goldthorn and peacebloom mix?

Got it.

* Haemon rises.
I will return with the water shortly.

After the tea, I’m going to start maneuvering you Threnn, with Haemon’s help. Your daughter’s head is through, but her shoulders are having trouble moving through. It’s nothing to worry about, it’s fairly common, and we have many, many options to make this easier on you. All right?

* Haemon listens to the last bit of the instruction before darting down the stairs.

All right.

* Bricu simply nods.

Story. Continue please.

* Annalea sorts through the herbs, finding the goldthorn and peacebloom.
* Indarra washes her hands again, trying to shield Threnn’s eyes from the pink pool growing inside of the basin.

Nails. John says the smiths in the Dwarven District don’t use the right ratios.

* Bricu mops threnn’s brow, smiling weakly.

* Threnn smiles at Bricu. “Did you know that? About the dwarven nails?”

No. No I didn’t.

Hnh. That’s odd.

* Haemon returns swiftly with two cups, a pitcher, and a bowl of ice chips.

Wonder if it’s aught ta do wi’ dwarven construction?

Dunno. Might be –
* Threnn grits her teeth again.

* Haemon sets the cups and pitcher of water by Anna’s work, and hands the bowl off to Bricu.

Bloody…fucking…

* Bricu leaves the damp cloth on Threnn’s forehead, taking the bowl with a fre hand.
* Bricu looks at the basin of pink water.

* Annalea sets about steeping the tea.
* Tarq is doing his best not to look like he’s hovering nervously.
* Bricu is clearly hovering nervously

I’ll need one more set of hands.
* Indarra looks around at the room, towelling of her hands.

The nails, maybe they work better in colder weather, yeah? Up in Kharanos?

One more than mine?

But here, ‘s…warmer. And… something.

Yes.

* Fells sputters, her eyes blinking at random intervals.
* Indarra smiles at Threnn.

What do you need?

Issit Winnerveil…?

No, s’Naiara’s birthday still.

No, but you could help deliver a present. Welcome back.

Oh, good…

* Tarq quietly facepalms.
* Fells sits up, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple.

Anna, I need you to lift her legs if you would, to her chest as far as you can get them. Haemon, I’d like you to continue monitoring the babe? And press gently on her lower stomach. I’m going to gently pull and try to get her past the pelvis that way.
We’ll need to coordinate this if not the next contraction, the one after.

* Threnn ‘s head swivels towards Fell’s voice.

Past the pel…
* Fells blinks.

* Haemon nods, and takes up position at the side of the bed.
* Indarra returns beneath the sheet.
So Stormwind nails are far superior, Threnn.
Good to know.

‘lo, Fellsie. Might not want to come around… Oh, this isn’t dignified in the least.

I’ve learned something today.

* Fells wobbles a bit.
Oh, oh -damn.- There’s sommat comin’ outta ya.

Not Stormwind nails.
Goldshire.
* Threnn sounds like this is the most important point in the world.

Goldshire nails.

Huh. I’m no’ sure I kin admit thit.

Goldshire nails.
I see.

Yeh could advertise off ay it, likesay.

* Indarra waits expectantly, looking at both Haemon and Anna.

“Get Proper Nailed In Goldshire!”

‘s a joke there, too, only, never thought of it till just now.
* Threnn lifts a hand to point at Tarquin.
Stole my joke.

* Bricu mops Threnn’s brow.
* Haemon bites his lip. Now is not laughing time. He nods at Indarra.

He is a professional, Missus.

‘s gotta be at least a day in the Stocks, isn’t it? Stealing a pregnant woman’s joke?

a fine.

Anna, are you . . .

s’a huge fine.

* Fells stares incredulously.

* Indarra pokes her head over the sheet to peer at Annalea.

I gots t’still be outta it.

Tea’s ready.
What do you need, Indi?

Excellent.

* Annalea brings the cup over to Bricu.

Get her some tea, and then lift her legs to her chest if you would.

* Haemon raises an eyebrow at Fells.

* Annalea comes around and places her hands on Threnn’s legs.
Tell me when.

* Fells pushes herself to her feet.
I can — I can help, m’here! M’here.

Next contraction hold her steady.

* Fells repeats, convincing herself more than the rest.

Threnny was telling us that Goldshire nails are far superior to dwarven nails, Fells.
* Indarra adopts the nickname and keeps her voice steady.

Far superior.

* Fells gawks.
Issat so.

So they sent us to get nails — NOT nailed. We were ten. And nine. And seven — and we went to the blacksmith’s.

So you and Anna were in Goldshire getting nails. What happened next.
* Indarra ‘s head disappears under the sheet, waiting for the next contraction.

* Tarq doesn’t even snicker at that.

And he was there, at the forge. That’s where blacksmiths work. And –
* Threnn ‘s voice climbs until she’s not really speaking anymore.

* Haemon presses gently on Threnn’s abdomen.

Breathe Threnn. Breathe.

* Fells covers her mouth.
* Annalea pushes Threnn’s legs to her chest, gaze flicking between Threnn and Indarra.

when the fuck is she gonna be able t’drink with yeh lot pushin’?!

She can’t drink during a contraction. Threnn, I want you to push.

All right.

Is this one over?
* Indarra pulls her head back up.
* Indarra looks at her.

I… Yeah.

Tea now.

Oi, drink this.
I figured as much.

* Indarra pulls her hands out, grabbing a towel to mop up the blood on her skin.
* Threnn uses Bricu for leverage and sips at the tea.
* Fells ‘s eyes go wide.
* Haemon gives Fells a warning glance.
* Fells offers him a quick smile. All good! Really!

Next contraction I’m going to pull her, and you need to push. Haemon, watch the bleeding if you would.

* Haemon nods.

Anna, same thing.

I will.

Keep talking to us Threnn. So he was at the forge . . .

* Annalea pats Threnn on the arm. “You’re doing fine.”

Ayeh, Goldshire?

I never thought I’d say this, but ayeh, I wanna hear ’bout the nails in Goldshire.

Bugger that love. Scream if yeh want ta.

The forge. Oh! The forge. He was making this sword.

* Indarra washes her hands one last time. She runs her sleeve over her own forehead and smiles, returning to the foot of the bed.
Fells, why don’t you get a blanket ready for the baby?
* Indarra tries to give the young woman something to do so her eyes don’t fall out of her skull.

And it was the most beautiful sword you ever saw. Not a king’s sword. A soldier’s.

Blanket, surely. No troubles.

Ask Kara. She’s got clean linens too.

We have some already. Stack on the chest over there.

He was finishing it as we came in. Got there just in time to see him quench it.

* Fells turns to the indicated chest immediately, all too glad for the distraction.
* Indarra tucks her head beneath the sheet, waiting and watching for the next contraction. She’s prodding, but she’s doing it as gently as she can.

Everyone else wanted to go see the bard at the Lion’s Pride. I stayed and watched him make a sword.
* Threnn looks around.
‘s it. ‘s… not a very good story, is it?

s’fine story love.

It is an excellent story. And educational.

It is.
If you don’t finish it I’ll be most disappointed.
Is that what inspired you to become a blacksmith?
* Indarra still sounds grossly matter-of-fact.

* Threnn doesn’t answer. Another contraction hits.

Breathe through it Threnn, and push.

* Haemon pushes down on her abdomen again.

* Fells grabs up what seems to be the softest of the lot, rushing to Indarra’s shoulder.
Threnny, s’fine, yer doin’ -so well- c’mon…

* Annalea resumes pushing on Threnn’s legs.
* Indarra reaches forward, her hand actually wrapping around the baby’s head and a bit underneath. She begins to pull her forward, trying to move her past the pelvic bone.
* Bricu squeezes Threnn’s hand.
* Threnn just pushes. She’s shaking from the effort.

och, love, just push!

That’s good, Threnn. Excellent. Keep pushing now.

* Fells holds her breath, staring openly.
C’mon, c’mon…

* Threnn pulls in a ragged breath and does it again.

* Indarra gets a grip and she smiles. There’s a give. One shoulder is past. With another gentle tug, on the second push, the second shoulder slides past.
There we have it. One more, Threnn. Just one more.

* Fells holds the blanket to her mouth. Wait no, the blanket’s for that tiny thing right there.

Oh, sweet gods.

One more love. Just one more fuckin’ push.

* Fells drops beside Indarra, blanket outstretched.
C’mon Threnny, yer near there, s’damn close…

* Threnn pushes once more, grabbing at Bricu’s hand.

* Indarra smiles as there’s a cry on the air. The baby’s abdomen is through and the rest of her presents itself shortly thereafter, sliding free of her mother.
Lovely job, Threnn. Lovely, lovely.

* Fells leans in, catching the tiny being that slips into the world more carefully than she’s ever done a thing before.

Och. yeh hear that love?
S’our wee girl.

* Indarra lifts her head out from the blanket, smiling at Haemon and Anna.

Is she all right?

* Fells nods dumbly.
Oh damn she’s amazin’.

* Annalea eases off of Threnn’s legs.

Fellsie.

* Haemon smiles back, asking after the bleeding in Darnassian.

Oi

* Fells laughs once.

No fuckin’ secrets.

* Indarra replies in Darnassian.
* Threnn strains to see.

An’ Fellsie. our girl.
Please.

* Fells rises on shaky legs, bringing the babe over to the proud parents. Or close.
Indy, the umn, cord…thinger…

* Haemon nods.
* Indarra pulls her hands free. She’s got blood on her lower arms, her dress. It’s fair everywhere. She mops at herself with towels and returns to her bag.
A moment.

Bric, promise, I’ll jest be one tick here…

* Indarra looks at Haemon.
You can heal it off.
If you’d be so kind.
* Indarra motions at the cord.

Fells.
S’our wee one there.

* Fells grins up at him, bright as day.
Surely is.

* Haemon moves underneath the sheet, separating the cord and letting Fells go with the child.

Thanks, now…

So bring her o’er here, please.

* Fells brings the bundle to the head of the bed.

* Tarq lets out a long breath, discreetly making his way over to the foot of the bed.

Sommat you two oughta meet.

‘s all right, love. She’s coming.

* Haemon sets to healing. There’s plenty to heal.
* Indarra goes about scrubbing her hands off in the basin.
* Bricu looks at Fells.

Congratulations both of you.

I’d like t’hold our wee one. now.
Or give her to her mum.

* Fells holds the swaddled thing out to him.

Easy, love. ‘s all right.

Was waitin’ on ya t’take her. Here.

* Annalea edges closer to Bricu, one hand dipping into a dress pocket.

Bricu’s lookin’ forward ta bein’ an oe’rprotective father.

* Bricu takes his daughtger.
Aye.
* Bricu smiles at his daughter, and beams at Threnn.
Oi.

Gonna have yir work cut out fir yeh, but.

* Bricu leans in closer to Threnn
S’our girl.

* Threnn seems to be counting fingers and toes.

* Indarra begins repacking her things quietly, keeping to herself on the other side of the room.

* Fells steps back, arms wrapped around herself and smiling like an idiot.

Do I get to say hello to my niece?

Thank yeh, Indarra.
Yeh can see her when her mum is done cooin’ an’ holdin’ ‘r.

You’re welcome. I wish you both joy, and Elune’s blessings.

Meanin, Annie, yeh prolly wanna get a room fir the night.

* Threnn looks up from staring at the baby.
Indi.
Thank you.

* Indarra glances up, already wrapping a cloak around herself.

Oi, hold our wee one love.

You are more than welcome.

* Threnn smiles tearily.

* Indarra swallows somewhat shakily.
I do think this is . . . in Haemon’s capable hands now so I will take my leave.
* Indarra bows, her bag clutched to her chest.

* Tarq strolls over to Indarra with excessive casualness, and opens the door.
Walk yeh out just a tick, will I?

* Haemon leans out from under the sheet to bow to her.

I’m glad you were here.

* Fells doesn’t even know when she -got- here.

Thank yeh Shad. Fells.

Heh.
* Fells nods.

* Indarra smiles and makes a Darnassian blessing with her hands, motioning at the child. She walks past Tarquin with a small nod.

Don’ mention it.

* Haemon smiles at Bricu, and ducks under to finish up.

Right back.
* Tarq follows Indarra out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

M’jest gonna…

* Haemon pops his head out a moment later.
Do you want to keep the placenta?

* Fells backs towards the door, so she doesn’t have to take her eyes off of them.

What did she just–fuck no—do?

Don’t think… no.

All right. What did who do when?

Indarra did.

She delivered your child?

* Annalea bends over Threnn, her fingers coming out of the pocket. She touches the baby’s forehead, lips and heart, and whispers something in the tiny girl’s ear.

She just did a blessin’. What kind o’blessin.
* Bricu makes a sign against the evil eye, just in case.

* Haemon blinks.

* Bricu smiles at Annie.

It is one I am familiar with seeing from the Temple, though I am not aware of its precise meaning. If it is ill, then surely the Temple has been out to get me for decades.

It was a good one.

* Haemon emerges fully, hands and extras wrapped in cloth.
* Annalea steps back, towards Haemon.

As long as its a good one.

She’s beaut’ful. Y’done -so- good, Threnny.
* Fells leans her back on the door.

Aye, yeh did love.
S’our Naiara.

So tha’s the name.

* Threnn nods.

Aye.

Naiara.

S’loverly. Y’named her well too.

Bricu picked the name.

Aye. Och, I suggested it. We agreed on it.

You two gonna be a’right? Can I tell Laz?

* Threnn smiles.

* Haemon wipes his hands clean. Clean-ish.

‘course you can.

Aye
go let everyone know

* Fells laughs.

* Tarq pokes his head back into the room at that.

Naiara Bittertongue

Wis ’bout t’ask oan thit, actually.

Yessir. Twist m’oomph.
* Fells is bumped out of the way with the door’s opening.

Guessing they’ll all be swarming when –

She should rest for a bit yet.
Give her a half hour at least before the masses are allowed in.

If yeh dinna mind – sorry, Drachmas – sure eno’ thit lot downstairs is twitchin’ wi’ anticipation.

Oi, one at a time.
no one’s holdin’ her yet.

Ayeh, ta be sure. Tell yeh what, Bric’ – gie’ me the honor ay announcin’ it at the floor, an’ I’ll do the job ay keepin’ the greedy buggers out until yir say-so.

Think Haemon might’ve meant me, love.

done.

Let ‘em have the night, Tarq. I — aw!

I did, yes.

* Fells frowns at him.

* Threnn smiles.

Don’t care what shad meant. One at a time for Threnny an Naiara. No one’s holdin’ her but us.
Oi. Go tell yer man.

You can both carry the news down there if you want.
Just be careful my mother doesn’t bowl you over.

* Fells gives Tarquin a good poke in the ribs when she passes.
* Tarq snorts at Fells.
Noooooo, let him, he’s the ruttin’ head’a the red an’ black. ‘sides, I wanna tell Laz.

Tell yeh what. I’ll tell ‘em ’tis a lassie, an’ then yeh tell ‘em they dinna get ta see her yet.

* Haemon gathers the various bloodied cloths from by the basin.

They’ll love thit.

* Fells grins at him.
Oh yer awful.
Like they’s gonna listen t’me, I’ll git -trampled.-

I try. First, but -
* Tarq swivels back over to the bed.
Mind if I say a quick ‘ello?

‘course you can.

Aye. Fells did. Yeh should too.
Naiara, this is tarquin. yer gonna have his job one day.

* Fells is so pleased.

I will withdraw to allow family time. The bleeding should be stopped. If not, Anna, I imagine you know herbs better than I. Call if you need anything, I shall be downstairs after cleanup.

* Tarq leans over, studying the tiny pink thing with a somewhat ludicrous grin on his face.
Naiara, huh?

Shad, thank you. So very much.

* Haemon smiles.
My pleasure. And apologies.

* Annalea stands up on her toes and plants a kiss on Haemon’s cheek.
Hell of a job.

I kin hear the world tremblin aready.

Everythin’ went well mate. Nothin’ t’apologize fer.

* Haemon purples a bit.
Thank you.

* Tarq straightens slightly to look at the proud parents.
* Fells grins.
* Haemon heads downstairs to offer the placenta to anyone who gets in his way.

Bittertongues, yir oan vacation.
Oan account ay a job well done.

OI! Shad. Get rid o’it completely!
Nothin’ left.

* Haemon calls back. “Yes sir!”

Och, that’s particularly brilliant o’yeh

* Threnn grins at Tarquin.

Least I could do, eh?

* Fells nods to the family and ducks after Shad.

Give us a shout when yeh kin tolerate the visitors.

Yeh did more than that. Aye we will
Give us a moment ‘for teh thunderin’ crowds, eh?

I’ll hauld the stairs at swordpoint, if yeh want it.
* Tarq sketches a bow to the suddenly-a-trio of Bittertongues and backs towards the door, picking up his hat along the way.

Kept me smiling. ‘s more than you think.

* Tarq has no response to that. He just shrugs, tips his hat, and exits.

Och…

* Annalea watches the new family for a moment, then simply nods and follows Tarquin out the door.

* Tarq shuts the door firmly, then reaches into his pocket and produces his cigarette case, looking like he’s found religion.

Och, missus. yeh did..och. yeh…och.

* Threnn settles the rest of the way back against the headboard, exhausted.
Everyone did.

Aye. We all did.
But yeh two did the most.
An’ the best.
Two soliders….strewth.

She’s beautiful.

Like her mum.

* Threnn smirks.
‘s just flattery right there.

I’m gonna need all the words I got, two beautiful ladies an all….

Aw, now.

* Bricu pulls a chair near Threnn’s bedside. The paladins marvel at their daughter, at a loss for words.

He felt that the fox was close.

The panther had hunted the fox for hours as she ran through Elwynn forest. The chase led him to a clearing, halfway between the forest and the hills that surrounded the human city. The fox sat on a rock, looking towards the hills. The panther approached slowly, crouching low to the ground, his belly rubbing againt the twigs and leaves of the forest flooor. His tail swished, once, before the pounce. The fox’s ears perked as the panther’s tail hit the ground. She jumped from the rock and bounded off into the hills. The panther pounced and landed where the fox was. She was yards ahead, looking down on the panther from the top of a hill. The panther gave the chase.

He gained on the fox quickly, closing into pounce once more. The fox ducked right. The panther lunged, falling for the feint. She bounded down another path on the left, forcing the panther to slow and turn. It took a moment for the panther to track the fox, but the moment was all the fox needed to disappear into the hillside. The panther smelled the fox–she had ran down this path–but the scent trail ended in front of a small, narrow cave.

He could feel the fox was nearby, but his senses focused on closer prety. The sounds of mewling caught his ear. He smelled somethign similar to the fox–her kin–but he could not see them. Her kits were close, in a cave too small for the panther to reach them. So he waited. The kits would eventually stop mewling and look out for their mother. When they would, the panther would be there, ready for them.

The kits didn’t stop mewling. He walked a few paces away, downwind, so the kits couldn’t smell him, but not a single one looked for their mother. As the panther waited, the moonset behind the hills. The mewling grew fainter. Soon the panther walked back to the cave and listened for the mewling. The cave was silent. While he smelt the fox still, the kit’s scent was fading. Another smell, sickly sweet, filled his nostrils. Something above the cave cracked and shattered. The panther lept backward, dodging the falling rocks and debris, sealing the cave completely.

His senses focused on the cave, the panther didn’t hear the fox as she crept behind him, but he felt her when she pounced on his tail. Lighting quick, the panther reared round to face the fox, but not before the fox bit into the panther’s paw. The panther growled and lashed out with the the same wounded paw, but the fox glared and barked at her.

“Annie!” it growled. “ANNIE!”

Annalea Al’Cair sat straight up in her bed. Her dream still playing in her mind as she looked for the buzz box she had left on her nightstand. The nightstand, and its contents, were scattered to the ground, knocked over in her sleep. She found the box underneath her notebook. Her brother in law’s voice barking her name.

“Oi, fer fuck’s sake, ANNIE!”

“I”m here, I’m here. I was just…getting…What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’ wrong. Everythin’s on schedule. Threnny’s water broke.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I think so…but yer the other fuckin’ midwife. Yeh’re supposed t’tell me! So get yer arse o’er here!”

“I’m coming.” She paused for a moment, trying to clear her head. “Did you get my list?”

“Aye, only thing missin’ are yeh an Shad an our Naiara. I’ve gotta get that one on the box. Yeh comin’?”

“Aye, aye.” She said. “Be there in two shakes.”

“We’ll be waitin’.”

Annie set her buzz box down on her bed and started to change from her night clothes into something more appropriate for her niece’s birth. She looked at her right hand, the same she must have used when she knocked the nightstand over. A bruise was forming. By the time Naiara would be born, it would be a sickly purple green. Annie tried to focus on the bruise, but all she could remember was the fox’s bite and the kits trapped in a cave.

–
Tarquin
The Gilded Rose had always been considered a respectable establishment, even in its early days. It was the sort of place that, rather than being tarnished by those of its clients with tarnish to impart, gave them a sort of glossy sheen. But there were always going to be those who disagreed.

The trouble started with a toast, old John Bell lifting a glass of the Rose’s good dark beer to Threnn Al’Cair’s good fortune, and his sons responding in kind. Really, not the sort of thing that should have inspired trouble. Then William toasted Bricu Bittertongue and his good fortune, which Robert suggested was much greater – “After all, he’s getting a lovely child and our Threnny.”

None of the Bells knew the man who rose from a table of five companions and made his way to their snug table by the fire, but John at least recognized the emblem stitched onto his tunic – House Fairfax’s horse-and-horn quarterings. He was an athletic-looking young fellow, with handsome features spoiled primarily by the supercilious sneer lurking on his face waiting for an excuse to pop out. “What’s the happy occasion, citizens?” he inquired pleasantly enough.

“A birth, sirrah,” reported Robert with a grin. “And the couple’s first to boot. Join us for a drink, won’t you?” He was in the sort of ebullient good mood that manifests itself as contagion. “Anyone, in fact, who’d like a round on my brother can have one!”

The Fairfax man chuckled at that, and William’s protesting shout. “Well, it’s rare enough I turn down a free drink. Only – who did you say were the lucky couple again?”

“Threnn and Bricu Bittertongue,” Robert answered. “Fine Stormwind business-folk, the both of them, and proper soldiers to boot.” The uniformed man lifted an eyebrow and made a noise in the back of his throat that carried some unflattering connotations.

“Something troubling you, sir?” asked William, with a wary glance at his brother.

“I’ll have to decline, with all respect,” the Fairfax man said in a tone that implied very little in the way of respect. “While I’m sure you’re fine Stormwind gentlemen, a greenskin’ll sit the Lion Throne before I’d lift a mug to the likes of those.” That sneer had no compunctions about making itself shown.

“And what likes would that be, my friend?” Robert pushed his mug aside and let one tattooed arm fall on the tabletop,fingers tapping. As carpenters went, he was a fairly muscular sort. The standing man seemed unimpressed, but his five friends at the far table might have had something to do with that. “Threnny’s like a sister to us, I’ll have you know.”

“Not much of a brother then, are you?” The Fairfax man planted his own hand on the tabletop, not far from Robert’s. “I couldn’t imagine letting any sister of mine marry that Bittertongue sot, or wear those colors.”

“Not our bloody fault you haven’t any imagination,” offered William, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look, fellow, why don’t you go and sit down? This is meant to be a happy occasion.”

The man scoffed. He practically said “Scoff.” William was seized by a sudden urge to laugh, and the looming man caught it and scowled. Nothing irked the likes of the provocateur more than not being taken seriously. “Well, then again,” he said with weighty sarcasm, “Maybe your ‘Threnny’ is just where she’s meant to be, with the criminal scum. Like that sister of hers, hm?”

William and Robert were both on their feet in an instant, the smiles wiped from their faces. “Say that again,” Robert said flatly. “Go on and say that again, you streak of piss.”

“Better,” grunted their father as he got to his feet. “Don’t. Turn around, walk out that door, and go tell Lord Fairfax to give you something useful to do.” John Bell clasped his big gnarled hands in front of his chest. “Because if you say it, then you have my personal guarantee that whatever else happens, my boys will knock the teeth from your head for speaking ill of the Al’Cair family. I’ll put it on paper if you want.”

The Fairfax man glanced around the room, which had fallen silent. A bit less than twenty people in the commons, split three ways between Bittertongue well-wishers, unrelated guests, and of course his own five companions. Apparently, he liked his odds. “Bricu Bittertongue is a drunken, murdering bastard,” he said with slow and oozing malice, “And Threnn Bittertongue and Annalea Al’Cair are nothing but a pair of-”

“-virra lovely an’ charmin’ ladies.” Somehow, the speaker had entered the Rose in the few moments between the Fairfax man’s survey of the room and his address to the brothers Bell and their father. “An’ I’m glad ta join yeh in the privilege ay thir ‘quaintance, Bennett, auld boy. It is Bennett, innit? Hadyn Bennett?” The apparent Master Bennett made no reply, but the color could be observed to be leaving his face at an unusually rapid rate.

Tarquin ap Danwyrith strolled into the room, glancing over at Bennett’s table of friends, none of whom made move to rise. He draped one lanky arm around Bennett’s shoulders. “Hadyn Bennett, an’ in the colors too! Fuck me, mate, but yeh’ve moved up in the world, have’na yeh? I recall when a keen punter could get yeh ta break yir ain dear auld ma’s knees fir the price ay a whore!” He laughed at his own wit, grinning broadly at the slightly bemused trio of Bells across the table. “An’ look at yeh now. Time’s been kind, eh?”

He adjusted his hat and leaned in to speak into Hadyn’s ear, his smile getting even wider while the latter’s sickly grin curdled. From his place across the table, William could hear quite clearly. “If I see any ay yeh Fairfax cunts within a hundred paces ay Threnny’s child, they willna find the bodies ’til she’s a grandmother. Take yir lads an’ go tell Fane what I said. Now.” Tarquin let go and clapped Bennett on the shoulder, then turned away, not bothering to watch as the man made a hasty gesture to his table of companions and exited the Gilded Rose with haste unbecoming a sworn man of House Fairfax.

Once the six had left, Tarquin planted one foot on an unoccupied seat, tilting his hat back to peer at the brothers Bell, still standing. “Well, thit wis divertin’. Which yin ay yeh’s Bell, then?”

“Ah – all of us,” answered William, staring at ap Danwyrith skeptically. Robert settled for a pugnacious glare, a recalcitrant blood vessel still throbbing slightly at his brow.

“I’m John Bell,” responded that eminent personality, comfortably ensconced in his seat once again. “Those two are my sons, William and Robert. And you’re ap Danwyrith, aren’t you?”

“Guilty, ay thit if naught else.” Tarquin tipped his hat to all three and stepped back, buffing the buttons on his green tunic. They seemed perfectly shiny, but he was the sort of man who always needed something to do with his hands, if only to keep them out of trouble. “I’m meant ta tell yeh thit Thenia an’ Padraig’s oan thir way. Have a drink or twa ready fir thim, eh?” Some prestidigitation with his right hand saw a gold half-crown glittering on the tabletop. “Oan me.”

“Very generous of you, Master ap Danwyrith,” observed John with a certain wry twist to his lips that neither of his sons completely understood. “Have that drink with us?” William, back in his seat, moved to draw out an empty chair.

“Love ta, auld boy, but Threnny wants me up thir ta keep her husband fra’ breakin’ down wi’ the terrors.” He smirked and stepped back. “I’ll see yeh eftir, na doubt. Cheers, Masters Bell, an’ keep up the guid work.” He withdrew his leg and made his long-stepping way up the stairs, as the rest of the room slowly returned to its previous mutter of conversation, less the empty corner table.

William broke the silence, smirking at Robert. “Are you ever going to sit down?” Robert coughed and did so, a touch of that pugnacious scowl still on his face, and Will turned to his father. “That fellow, he’s the same one in the papers. The one who…” He couldn’t seem to find an adequate way to finish the sentence, and settled for picking up the gold coin from the tabletop. “All those stories can’t be true.”

“Half’d be enough,” said John quietly. “But that’s the way it is, boys – if Threnn’s family, then so’s Bricu, and so’s that one.”

The brothers Bell looked at each other, and then Robert shrugged and lifted his glass. “Alright, then. Wouldn’t be here if we didn’t trust our Threnny, now would we?” William smiled, put down the coin, and found his own beer.

Clink.

–
Threnn checked three times to make sure she was broadcasting to a private channel rather than to the Riders’ common one. “Fellsie?”

It took a minute for the other woman to answer. She was likely busy putting the house in order, or outside, fingers dug deep in the earth, planting her garden. “Mmn? Whatsit?”

“Think you can get to Stormwind soon?”

“Threnny? Everthin’ a’right?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine so far.” Bricu had put out the summons to Anna and Haemon already. She could hear him talking quietly with Tarquin now. Kara had been sent to find her parents. This was really happening.

“‘So far’.” The sound of a bridle jangling as it came down from its hook almost drowned out the concern in Fells’ voice.

Threnn tried to keep her own calm. “So far. My water broke maybe ten minutes ago. Can you–”

“‘M ON M’WAY.”

She grinned as Fells switched off, and settled down to wait for her family to arrive.