327 Inconsequential
"Good morning, madam."
"To you as well, Brethold." Linarin gracefully accepted the tea from the head butler, washing a little over her lips to judge the taste. A rich, fruity blend with a hint of spice. "One spoonful of honey for today, thank you."
Brethold produced a small bottle from a bag on his waist and popped it open, the soothing aroma instantly relaxing the tension in her neck. Brethold then relieved her of the teacup and placed it on the table to her side, siphoning out a small dollop of the amber liquid with an ice spoon that seemed to appear from nothing. In a way it had. Despite his humble image, Brethold was a sorcerer.
"Shall I prepare the kettle, madam?"
"Keep it on standby, warm but not boiling. I've got to speak with both my daughter in law and niece today, neither of which I anticipate to be brief conversations." She once more lifted the cup to her lips, the frozen utensil melting away in the spinning liquid as she did so. "Mm, perfect. Excellently done."
"Your praise means the world to me, madam. These skills would mean nothing without someone to appreciate them." He'd said similar things before, but they never got old. "Shall I summon the young lord's betrothed?"
"Imminently, but I would like a brief conversation with you first."
"With me?"
"Indeed. Nothing major, just a quick briefing on what was discussed yesterday."
"You refer to the chef?" Linarin nodded. "In that case, our staff believe that his current degree of skill is nothing to fawn over, though they do believe he has room to grow into something greater. If nothing else, he possesses the passion required."
"Good. See to it that he is properly mentored. Culinary talent aside, it would be a shame to lose a sorcerer."
"Certainly." Brethold paused as Linarin put down her teacup. "I would like to make a request on his behalf, if such rudeness can be excused."
"I do not mind. His efforts in protecting this house's future are deserving of as much."
"In that case I will not hesitate. He would like to find an apprentice, someone with talent in the field of sorcery and a passion for making food."
"Does he now?" Linarin gazed out the window towards the figures in the courtyard. "If you can find space within the budget, I will authorize a search for such a person. Though, given his age . . . perhaps finding him a suitable partner would better suit his desires."
"Shall I employ the main family?"
"Bring it up with him in passing and gauge his reaction. If he seems interested in the matchmaking events we host, try to mix in some of our other assets that suit his person." Bonds of honor and gratitude were good, but blood and friendship were stronger. "If he doesn't bite, so be it. We can't have everything, and pushing too hard might ruin an otherwise amicable relationship."
"As you wish."
Linarin nodded as her butler walked away, carefully closing the door behind him. Content with such a development and her response thereto, she picked up her needles and spool of yarn.
- - - - -
"Good morning, madam." The door slowly squeaked open as her guest made an entrance, the bashful little lady still somewhat afraid of her new mother in law.
"Ah, Losiram. Come, take a seat." This did not concern Linarin in the slightest. Losiram was to be family, regardless of the difference in social strata, and she could not be seen to disagree with her husband's assent to the marriage even if she did have problems with it. "Would you like some tea?"
"Ah, um, yes. I would love some."
"Right away, ma'am." Losiram jumped a bit as Brethold appeared behind her, his presence in the room having gone undetected. "Honey or sugar?"
"S-sugar?"
"And another cup for me, if you would."
"As you wish." Brethold bowed, gently shepherding the lady to her seat across from Linarin.
This place was perhaps Linarin's favorite when her husband was training. Aside from the view, the sunlight coming in at an oblique angle would scatter nicely through the half-drawn curtains, leaving the room well-lit enough for activities like knitting and painting. It also allowed her to see her guests without annoying shadows or harsh highlights, and them to see her with such elements in turn.
Because of this she could make out details she might otherwise miss, such as Losiram's damp hair and slightly off center blouse. Losiram had likely just gotten out of the bath, one taken in a rush at that.
"You didn't have to hurry to answer my summons, you know?" Linarin only began the conversation after Brethold returned with tea, allowing Losiram to take it in her hands. Doing so would give her something to concentrate on if ever she got nervous or ran out of conversation topics.
"I-I thought it best not to make a poor impression."
"How? By wasting my time?" Linarin gestured to her current project, which was still a jumbled mess of string in her lap. "If your presence is urgently needed, my messenger will tell yo so. Otherwise, I've got plenty to keep me occupied. I'd rather you take an appropriate amount of time to make yourself presentable."
"O-oh."
"Think nothing of it. Now, can I expect a grandchild soon?"
"Huh?!"
"Our chambers aren't that far away from that son of mine's. I think it would be stranger if I didn't say anything after all that screaming." Linarin recalled the conversation she had with her husband, particularly the portion where they wouldn't interrupt their oh so important reunion. "He wasn't hurting you, was he? I recall Arrelois being a bit aggressive our first few years together, and he takes after his old man in other areas . . . so I can give him a discrete talking to if you want."
"I, um, no . . ." The beet red face soon buried itself under a pair of hands, not that such an action improved her situation. Linarin simply took a sip of her tea in response, smiling at the innocent maiden before her. In all honesty she would have preferred that son of hers to wait until after their vows to prevent such rumors as a premarital affair, but given the recent life threatening situation and the close proximity to the wedding she had no leg to stand on.
Besides, she wasn't going to complain about a grandchild a few days earlier than expected . . . in fact she had been trying to get one last child while possible now that Arreviro was leaving the nest, but fate had not smiled on her yet.
"How many will you be trying for? After Wiz I thought three was enough, two once we took Len in. I would have gone until we got a boy otherwise."
". . . seven."
"Seven? How ambitious. You aren't worried about succession or anything?" Linarin chuckled, picking up her needles continuing to knit. She'd need to get a lot better at this if she was weaving for seven, more if she considered Viro and Len. "Well, in that I wish you luck. I hope you won't make the same mistakes I did."
"Mistakes?" That comment got her to withdraw her hands, though she was clearly still embarrassed. "Pardon me for my rudeness, but I think your children have grown into wonderful people."
"Is that so?"
"I-I believe so."
"Even Len?"
"Most certainly."
"Then at the very least my failures have not been catastrophic in nature." Motivation leaving her, Linarin stopped knitting. A sip of tea to moisten her throat was needed before continuing. "Are you aware Len is not my child?"
"I was clued in, yes."
"Then are you aware of the reason we took him in?"
"His blood father died saving Marshall Arrelois' life, correct?"
"Indeed, a border conflict with the Vrie. It was his dying wish to have his son taken care of, and my fool of a husband interpreted that to mean he must be taken as his own." Linarin sighed. She hated recounting this story, especially at this time in her life. "Her majesty, no, my sister, had been assassinated in the build up to that skirmish, and the stress of the ordeal induced a miscarriage. I think you can imagine how conflicted I was about the ordeal, pulled between wanting to offer gratitude towards the man who saved my beloved and maintaining the public image of my house."
She recalled the baby brought to her in the night, a pale and scrawny bundle of joy that wouldn't so much as cry despite its hunger. His presence was a joy to them all, a family distraught by the loss of a loved one and a future sibling. Arrelois was overjoyed to honor his fallen comrade, to continue the line that would have fallen alongside him. Arrewiz, eight at the time, was more excited at the prospect of someone he could teach. Arreviro, barely understanding anything at two, was simply happy as a result of everyone else's elevated moods. Even the staff, Brethold more than any other, was happy she had something to take her mind off of things.
She also remembered the pressure from those around her to abandon the infant, or at least let a wet nurse handle a peasant child's nursing. She remembered the sour looks from visitors and vassals when she doted on the toddler, insisting a maid or butler feed and groom the lowborn in her place. Worst was the bureaucrats, though, who when escorting her nephew to her territory for his stay with House Arre demanded the boy be isolated from the imperial line.
"I let my duty to maintain and further the status of this house supersede my desire to give a child the love he so desperately needed." The more she thought on her past actions, the more she wished this tea was liquor. "And so I isolated myself from him, and kept my children from interacting with him regularly. Once he came of age, he slept in the servants quarters, and could only partake in dinners with us when guests were absent. I could do little to stop Lois from interacting with him, nor did I want to. His reputation made criticism irrelevant, and denying him such activities would have defeated the purpose of taking Len in to begin with."
She dropped the rest of her cup, swigging the final bit as though it were whiskey.
"I pushed Arrelois to send him to the academy early, if only to rid Len of the stigma that much sooner. It was only after he left that I realized it didn't matter." Placin her teacup gently on the plate, Linarin sighed. "If they didn't pester me about Len, it would have been for some other reason. Beyond the initial nursing stage, trying to keep my family separate from a low born wasn't the point. They were simply envious of my status, and were desperately grasping for something to lord over me. Len just happened to be the most obvious point of weakness."
"That's horrible."
"Mhm. Once Len left, the insults shifted from his presence in the castle to various petty grievances - the color of my curtains or the wilting of an out of season flower. Things I rather enjoyed or couldn't do anything to change." She looked out the window towards the boy, wondering just when it was he grew so big. "Once I realized Len wasn't the problem these people had with me, and that their prior politeness was simply a product of my sister's marriage to his majesty, the guilt crushed me. It's still crushing me. I was depriving a child of the love he should have received due to the jealousy of strangers, and I wasn't wise enough to see it."
Clenching her fist around a handkerchief, she wiped away the tears forming in her eyes.
"And now its too late. Fourteen years of loneliness and isolation, a lifetime of hollow words and cold expressions. I don't even have the right to love him anymore! Not after what I've done." She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "So please, even if you think others are denigrating you for your status, do not succumb to their demands. There may be gems among them, precious friends and allies you sacrifice everything for, but I've found the nobility to be naught but an aggregation of scum. Stand strong, stand firm, and you need not heed a word they say. All that matters within this domain, the domain you are to inherit, is the will of your husband and the will of his emperor. Beyond that, there exists no authority."
". . . I understand."
"Good. Now shall we talk about more lighthearted things? I'm getting too old to be sad like this."
- - - - -
"I'll be taking my leave now. Wizzy should be getting back soon, and he promised to take me on a tour of the city."
"Have fun. If you desire any spending money, you need only ask Brethold."
"Of course, ma'am."
"And remember, we'll start introducing you to the duties of the lady of the house tomorrow."
"I will."
Linarin waved as the door closed, sagging back into her chair once the footsteps faded away. Chancing a brief look outside revealed her husband, free from the confines of his shirt, huffing and puffing on the ground. Much to her surprise, Len was still running, though not as fast as he was before.
"You know it's rude to eavesdrop on private conversations, don't you?" Linarin spoke to an empty room, or at least a room that appeared empty from her perspective. "Linalee?"
"How'd you know?" A head of hot pink hair popped up over a nearby sofa, one of a similar shade to her own. That color was the defining trait of Eraora blood, manifesting most frequently in women.
"How wouldn't I know? I might not be trained to the same degree as my father and brothers, but I've still got more training than you." Linarin considered calling for tea, stopping herself only to prevent Linalee from getting an earful from the irritated Cabcavie outside. "Has your uncle not taught you the basics of soft trapping?"
"Um . . . no?" Linalee, humbled by her unceremonious unmasking, drudged over to the recently evacuated seat. "It hasn't been that long since we started training, you know."
"Ugh, he pampers you too much." Linarin wouldn't consider her childhood training to be strict in nature, from birth they were trained as political operatives not covert assets, but she still had the most basic information drilled into her ad nauseum. "Your ears are an incredibly helpful tool for detecting things, allowing you to be aware of your surroundings without having to see them. For example, a door hinge that is imperfectly greased will squeak a little bit. Not enough to seem suspicious to an intruder - who greases their doors over such a small inconvenience? - but more than enough to tip the occupant of the room off."
"Oh . . . that's so mean."
"Mean?"
"Never mind." Linalee leaned towards the window, looking out towards her uncle. "So that's Len."
"Indeed."
"Will you finally let me greet him?"
"After his trial." Linarin had considered an introduction now that Len had met both the crown and second prince at the academy, lessening the stigma somewhat, but thought better of it for different reasons. "I think it would be a poor idea to associate with him before he is declared innocent."
"Oho? You sure seem confident he'll win."
"Of course I am. The man who broke that little shit's arm and face got off in the Sanctum of all places. Anybody with a lick of sense would realize Len's actions were justified from that alone." Linarin knew there was more to these trials than justice alone. Pedigree played a big role in the empire, a low born striking one of noble blood was de facto illegal regardless of reason. Even cases of self defense could result in execution. "I understand the desire to mask him with a false relationship, but they should be smart enough to know that won't hold for long."
"I mean, does it have to?"
"Hm?"
"If some other sovereignty claims him as their own, then Daddy is the one who has to make the call, right? Just to make sure there isn't a diplomatic incident?"
"That is true, but they have claimed Len through bonds of blood. If those can be disproven-"
"Are you going to call someone half a galaxy away to verify their blood ties over a scuffle?" Linalee tilted her head. She didn't have the best head on her shoulders in Linarin's opinion, possessing a ditzy playfulness reminiscent of her departed mother, but she always displayed a disturbing acumen for striking the heart of these matters. "Especially a scuffle he was deemed the aggressor in. I mean, I don't intend to speak for everybody here, but Rishtahn is a bit of a prick. Even among his allies with my little brother, I don't think someone would stick their neck out for something so inconsequential."
"Inconsequential?" Linarin did not like hearing the possible life and death of the child she only just regained the freedom to love referred to as 'inconsequential'. That didn't mean she couldn't see why, though. In truth, the outcome of this trial really would be inconsequential. The son of the prime minister got into a fight with the ruler of a foreign land at a party in the Sanctum and got humbled for it, and this adopted son of a Marshall just happened to get caught up in it. Nothing looked to be lost if it went Len's way, so it really wasn't a trial of particular consequence. "I'm not sure if I appreciate my efforts being wasted on something 'inconsequential'."