Rolph took the chest in with him to the dining room, where it caught attention from Trice's mother, who stood waiting for them to enter with a polite smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She gestured, a closed hand very regal thing, towards a side table that sat empty, apparently just for receiving gifts. The idea made sense to Tor, now that he saw how these people really lived. To not bring a gift would seem out of place, at least half the time. People wanted to impress royalty and a Duke and Baroness, while not at the lofty heights of a King or Queen, certainly got their share of attention.
The look she gave the chest was curious, but it seemed clear that she wouldn't ask what was in it. Tor was still reeling from the way Trice had greeted him. No one had ever kissed him like that before. Once, about four years before, when he was thirteen, a neighbor girl had kissed him on the lips as a dare from his older brother. That had been hard and quick, reluctant to say the least on the girl's part, and left him feeling ashamed for having let her do it at all. This had been a lot different. Better. He could see now why people bothered at least, even if he didn't think he could manage the same thing Trice had done without drooling all over someone yet. Maybe he could get a book on the subject or something? He wondered if such things even existed.
Why she'd done it… That was still a mystery. Then again, she'd asked him to say those things the other day, about them getting married, so maybe this was part of an act to make the whole thing look good for her parents? That still didn't tell him why. Oh well. As long as she wasn't kicking his behind over it, he'd be happy. She could always call it off later if she wanted, right?
Tor wouldn't.
Maybe she'd just forget it was part of some plan she had if he pretended it was real long enough? Suppressing a sigh he knew that wouldn't work and decided to just play along. At least this way he wasn't having to marry a Sorvee yet. Absurdly Tor couldn't help but picture Dorgal in a dress with long greasy hair, being unveiled at the wedding. God, he really hoped that whoever she was, poor Meredith Sorvee didn't have that to deal with. Bad enough to just be related to Dorgal.
Not wanting to have the Baroness think the package was anything special, he let her in on what it contained.
“Um, that, it's just the cargo carriers I promised, enough for fifty wagons or large boxes about that size, actually I tried for a field that can lift about five times what a wagon can hold, but I don't know if anything that large even exists for goods or shipping. Fifty food dryers too. Oh, I also added in fifty flying rigs. I don't have people for any of this yet though, but it's a start at least. Oh!” He could have hit himself in the head with a brick and probably should… He hadn't added shields to the box of flying rigs. He covered his eyes with his hands and apologized.
“I'll have them in a day or two… I amped up the flying gear and then forgot to give you any shields in case of accident? Duh! I'll fix that right away. Can I send those over or… Bring them? When they're done?”
Something warm slid in beside him for a second, until the temperature equalized, leaving a feeling of soft bare skin on his wrist where his sleeve pushed up a little. Trice chuckled and cuddled his arm to her side. Eric, Duke Morgan, stood with his mouth hanging open a little, being well trained he recovered after a second and stared at the chest as it sat on the dark wooden table.
“So, you're loaning us flying rigs to go with the other things? And are going to lend shields too? That's… Exceedingly generous!” The man smiled and walked over to Tor, a large hand reaching down to lightly clap him on the back.
Tor smiled but shook his head. “Oh no, those are all yours. You can use them as you see fit after the harvest is in. I… I think that large scale transport of goods is a decent business to get into, at least until other people get up to speed with everything. This should give you about the largest transport, em, fleet? In the Noram kingdom for a while, at for least air transport. I can get you more of whatever you need, except, well, not people. They have to be trained and all too. But I mean, if that's a bad idea, you can do what you want with these things. Loan them out or keep them for next year, whatever.”
The Duke's smile went funny looking and the Baroness looked odd too. The man finally nodded, if a little stiffly. Tor hoped he hadn't pissed the guy off. After all, he needed them to help keep himself out of the clutches of Sorvee house. Sure he could just tell Meredith no, but then, he really couldn't, could he? Hurting her feelings would be worse than poor form, now that he understood a tiny bit about the concept. He'd marry her first, bad relatives or not. For now the Morgans and their support was about all he had to keep from some major misstep here.
Tor wasn't trying to tell them what to do though, just suggesting a course of action that might work. The tension level had gone up about fifty times. Why couldn't he just learn to keep his mouth shut?
On his arm Trice had stiffened too, but instead of strangling his arm or hitting him, he suddenly felt her lips on his cheek. Then she straightened and nodded to her parents, a slightly smug look on her face. She didn't say anything at all. After about fifteen seconds everyone started to laugh, except for Tor, were they laughing at him now? Well, that probably made sense. He'd come in and given them some stuff he'd made and told them how to run their lives like a barn cat giving them a dead bird and suggesting the best ways to eat it. Of course it was funny. That or insulting. Way better that they laugh at him, or maybe with him? Could they think he was joking with them too? He didn't see how.
Oh well.
Graciously, or possibly mercifully, everyone stopped laughing after a while and sat at the table, the fashion was “family style” so they all sat close to one another. They accidentally started to try and serve him wine, but Trice politely refused for him, placing her left hand firmly over the mouth of his glass.
“It's a builder thing, they normally won't drink alcohol, so that they can always be ready and able to work themselves to death. Something like that.” She grinned. “Though that last part may only be Tor. Do we have any fruit juice?”
With a nod and wide eyes Mercy asked one of the servants to see if that was possible. It came so quickly that the servers must have been listening from the other room. That was… either a sign of superior skill or a spying hazard, possibly both. Not that spying on any conversation with him in it would make some huge difference to the world for the most part. So far at least. He was young, Tor knew, and things could change, even if he couldn't tell how yet.
The juice was a very nice, cool apple. Tor wondered out loud if it was from their own orchards up north. The Baroness nodded to his glass and told him that indeed, it was. It was good. Very good. He let them know that. Which made the Duke happy at least.
“The secret's in the blend of apple breeds. We use six different types for our drinking juice, which gives it that smooth flavor. It's different for hard ciders, where it pays to use a blend of about three apples, and you want a higher sugar content for the fermentation process, but for drinking juice it works well. It also mixes well with peach and pear. We don't have as many pears because they don't keep or travel well, but they're superior to either of the others when dried. We'll try to make sure we get you some.” Eric spoke smoothly, the sound of a person speaking about a passion they knew so well they didn't have to stop to remember the details.
The meal had fewer courses than any of the dinner parties at the palace, but then, it wasn't at the King's house, or even these people's main dwelling. It was still far more complicated and formal than anything he'd ever seen a month before. No one spoke of business again until after the last dish left the table, it was the Baroness that leaned forward and spoke first.
“We… give our blessing. Even if you can't manage a title Torrence. If anyone in the world doubts your worth, then we don't need them as friends. By the way, just so you all know, this was all decided two days ago.” She looked over at the box on the table and then at her daughter with a wry grin. “I don't want you to think we're selling you to the highest bidder or something like that, dear.”
The Duke leaned in then and winked at her.
“Still, way more than either of us expected you to bring in, being a girl. I've never heard of anyone being given an entire industry as groom's gift before…. Normally it's just a horse.” His eyes lit up and so did his smile. “I think I can get people without a problem. Probably more than we'll ever need. People will line up just for the chance to fly. They'll have to be sworn men and women, of course, but we can spare them for this I think.”
Rolph stood and held up a single piece of paper with a gold leaf seal on the bottom left. “Well, we hardly need this then, do we? Still, dad went to all the trouble to have it drawn up and signed it himself and everything, so I guess I should at least present it. It even has the signature of the requisite three Counts on it and get this, all of them volunteered to do it. We didn't even have to bribe any of them. So how rare is that? You'd think Tor was popular or something…” He looked around the paper comically at an angle and read off the names. “Count Thomson, of course. But then he'd agree to sign anything that might help make either of these two happy. Then, what's this say? Count Ford… Hmm. No mystery there, if he'd known that Tor was looking to get married he probably would have recommended one of his own granddaughters I think… Or possibly offered to marry Tor himself. Tor's cache is a lot higher in county Ford than you might think. This is the kicker. Count Lairdgren. That's a shock isn't it? Strange duck, but when mom sent a message to him he flew straight down. Literally flew, you wouldn't think of him as having a flying rig yet would you? But he's Tor's Count, he said, so he came to make this official. Dad practically knelt to him when he showed up. I mean he was ninety percent of the way down when the little guy caught him and held him up. You'd like him Tor, he probably only has about six inches on you, if that. I think you're getting a little taller still…”
He pointed to the paper again, smiling so hard that tears came to his eyes.
“Torrence Green Baker of Two Bends, county Lairdgren, please rise.” The voice sounded playful, but he made a little gesture with his left hand so Tor did it. If it was a joke, well, Rolph rarely made him the butt of his jokes. Teasing at times, but mostly not even that. Moving around the table, he stopped ten feet away from Tor and bowed slightly.
“Kneel.” Tor did, hoping he wouldn't look too stupid or anything. He'd probably have to cluck like a chicken or something. Who knew what kind of royal party game this was?
“Torrence Green Baker, your past life is no more. Arise Sir Torrence, made anew.” Rolph stepped towards him and laid his giant hand on Tor's head. For a joke it sure felt official suddenly. Smiling a little, he got up and looked around. The women looked horribly pleased and the Duke gave him a half bow.
“Sir Torrence.” Eric murmured.
Then everyone else greeted him the same way.
Rolph however held out his right hand with the paper in it, as if for everyone to read.
“Don't let it go to your head Tor. You're only a Knight Esquire, which means you can really marry Trice honestly and all that, and no one can gainsay you except the King and your parents, well, she can of course, but that's just common sense, if you really need to be told that, I'd have to take the Squirehood back. It doesn't come with lands, money or even real power. You get to clean a Knight's equipment and dress him for battle if it comes to that, and otherwise do what he says, clean the stables and get him wine or whatever. In your case probably make the equipment too, which should be a cost savings all around. I'd have gotten you assigned to me, but I'm pretty sure that if a war comes you'll just give me weapons and shields anyway, so might as well spread the love around, yeah?”
Tor had to sit down, but grinned. Had they really just fixed it so he could marry Trice? But… why? It was a good ruse and all, but did they really want to stick her with him? Maybe she had some plan he didn't know about? Or… He didn't know. Was this really real? He pinched his arm a little, earning a funny look from the room, ducking his head he blushed. “Um, not dreaming?”
The kiss that came was ardent to say the least, enough so that Eric started yelling after about ten seconds. “Hey!” He said, his voice holding laugher, “I really don't need to see this!” It got a laugh from everyone even Patricia.
Now, all Tor had to do, Rolph told him, was introduce her to his parents and family and get their blessing. Tor didn't think that would be a problem, except that when Trice saw where he came from, heard them speak and saw their lives, she'd probably call the whole thing off. She shook her head and murmured in his ear. “Not even if I have to move there and learn to be a baker's wife in truth.”
Yeah, he thought, fighting the grin that wanted to bubble up out of him, that would last right up until she learned her married name was going to be Pastries Baker.
They spoke of plans, of weddings and how soon they should hold it and where. Tor was fine with anything really, as long as Patricia would be happy with it, since it was all just a game anyway. It didn't really matter, but Mercy smiled and wagged a finger at him. “No Tor, planning weddings is the purview of the mothers. Otherwise kids would all elope and steal the only fun we get anymore. I'll simply have to speak with your mother about it. Yes. Eric and I will go with you to your home village in… Two days? That gives us an over night there and more time if we need it to plan, while you kids get back to school. I'd like to hold the wedding here, in the Capital, but… Well, it also depends on what your mother says too. I don't want to make all the plans unilaterally.”
Swallowing Tor said that sounded fine to him. It came out as a question and his voice cracked more than a little, but no one laughed. Smiled, yes, but no chuckling even.
Thankfully no one bothered him for the next two days. On the one hand he wanted, desperately, to reassure himself that this was all real by spending every waking, and if he'd thought he could get away with it, sleeping, moment with Trice. On the other he desperately wanted to show the Morgans that this wasn't a horrible idea, real or not, so he spent most of the time building fields for them. He presented them with another fifty flying rigs, a hundred shields, all the latest model, and twenty temperature control plates for their homes. He would have come up with more, but he ran out of time. Torrence really just hoped that it was enough to keep their support in this whole ruse with their daughter.
Probably not in the long run, he knew, but for long enough to get Meredith Sorvee to forget about him? Even if he had to marry her eventually, at least he could maybe get a little further in school, right? Far enough along that Dorgal could graduate and forget about how much he hated Tor maybe?
The morning they were to leave, everyone came to the courtyard where the carriages waited to take them all out of town. It was a huge hassle, all these useless carriage rides. If they could have taken off from where they were, even just going straight up and then flying away, it would have saved hours and hours of time.
No flying in the city was the rule, so what else could they do? They met at the palace so that the Queen and King wouldn't have to go anywhere just to say goodbye to them, meaning the Morgans had gotten up even earlier to make their way over in the relatively cool morning light.
Burks and a dozen other men came out without being asked to help load everything on to the carriages, these rather nicer ones than what they'd hired to bring their stuff in originally. The wood was golden colored, but not painted, just lacquered and polished to gleaming, which Tor had learned meant quality for the most part.
It wasn't so much that he figured it out as that Varley had explained it to him the night before over dinner. The girl might be young, but she was a font of information that he desperately needed, and what was perhaps more important, she'd figured out that he actually would be required to know things like that. So, flashy gold covered rooms weren't as tasteful as simple polished wood? He'd have never guessed that without help. Not in time. What was more, wood cost a lot less. So when he built a house for Trice and himself to live in he wouldn't have to purchase gold leaf in bulk to try and cover every available surface. Good to know. He could save that money to buy nails. Not that he was going to ever marry the girl, but if they kept up the whole charade long enough, he'd have to make it look good, like he really meant for her to stay with him.
Well, even after she broke things off, it would leave him with a house, right? He had to live somewhere after school.
They all said goodbye publicly, which was fine, even if a little awkward at the end when Connie broke away from her family to say goodbye to him personally at the door of the carriage. She hit him with a lingering kiss no less warm than the ones Trice had been giving him, which made him blush. Everyone else chuckled for some reason, except for his… Tor stopped breathing for a second as it hit him again. Except for his fiancee. She just laughed joyfully for a few seconds.
“Hey!” She said suddenly. “Aunt Connie, stop trying to molest my future husband! At least until after the honeymoon, you'll wear all the new and shiny off of him…”
Tor suffered a bit, blushing as Rolph laughed at him and pushed him away from his mother slightly. Looking for a distraction Tor remembered the package sitting on the seat of the carriage and called Burks over and handed it to him without ceremony. It was wrapped in plain canvas, so it wouldn't look like a big deal or anything Tor hoped. After all the guy seemed a lot less into all the trappings of power and stuff than a lot of the others in the Capital were. Not for himself at least.
It was just a set of flying gear, a shield and temperature plates for his house or room. Tor didn't know where the man lived or even if he had a wife and kids. He wasn't old, but at about thirty easily old enough for all those things. Today he was dressed really nicely, in a deep green outfit that looked very proper. Was he switching over to working in the dining room of the guest house now that Tor was out of his hair? If so he must be in charge, the clothing was rich looking. The man didn't open the package standing there, but smiled, so hopefully it wouldn't be too lame as gifts went. Not that Burks had ever mentioned wanting any of that stuff, but what else did Tor have to give?
The carriage ride was fun, if a little awkward, because Sara kept staring at him with a slightly sad smile. He rode with Trice, Rolph and Sara, the other carriage holding Count Thomson and the Morgans. Behind them three more vehicles, all nice looking wagons, followed with the trunks and gear they had.
The Count and Trice's parents wore nice clothing, silk shirts and leather trousers, which was becoming popular for flying clothing among the very few rich people that could afford to get their own flying stuff already. Most of that came, he was told, not from Debri house, which was selling almost exclusively to the military on those items, but from the black market. People actually stealing things from Debri house, or worse, the military, to sell at incredibly inflated prices. The clothes looked nice however, the new flying “uniform”.
Tor wore his student browns and so, to everyone's amusement, did Rolph. The girls wore blacks that looked newer and softer than the heavy brown clothing did. It didn't just look softer Tor noticed, feeling the fabric as Patricia leaned against him. The material had an almost buttery feel to it, however that worked. It kind of made Tor want to run his hands all over her, which, of course, wouldn't be right. It would have been too much if they were really getting married, if he pushed it now, in this fake thing, she'd probably stop being his friend altogether. Who could blame her?
Finally having his friends all together, and no one else listening, Tor felt safe enough to ask some questions that had been bothering him for a while, but that he hadn't wanted to bring up in the palace since he was pretty sure that everything there was listened to by someone. Probably just servants, but showing them all how stupid and ignorant he really was wouldn't help anything. But, if he was really going to be around people like Trice and Rolph for a long time, he needed to have some kind of handle on things, right? Taking a deep breath he jumped in, hitting what he hoped would be obvious stuff first.
Trice didn't laugh at him, to his relief even Rolph didn't, which baffled him for a few seconds, because his large friend, never showing maliciousness in it, often at least chuckled when Tor let his lack of knowledge about royalty show. This time Rolph just sat quietly and waited for Trice to explain.
“OK. That's actually a good question.” She said looking at him warmly. “The reason my mom is a Baroness and not a Duchess is because she's a Baroness in her own right. Meaning she holds the title herself, so it trumps a higher one by marriage. If she didn't have a real title of her own, say if Aunt Connie had been born first, instead of two years later, then she'd be the Baroness and mom would use the Duchess title, but it wouldn't count as much, because it's only by marriage. So, if, gods forbid, dad were to die, she wouldn't reign in the duchy, my older brother Mark would.” Leaning in to him she wiggled a little, probably on purpose, so that more of them ended up touching.
If nothing else, Trice could sell an act pretty well. It was almost like she'd practiced it or something. Then again, she was a special school student, maybe that's what they had in place of morning meditations?
“So mom will always be Baroness, no matter what. Even if dad won a greater title somehow, but that's so rare that no one ever counts on it. Your getting that Squire's position as a full Knight Esquire is… huge. Really I didn't think it would happen. Most knights are already titled, and it's kind of a side step promotion for them. I know that Rolph said… but still… Yeah, anyway, even if mom had married Uncle Richard like originally planned, she'd still be Baroness Thorgood too. That doesn't change with marriage.”
Tor didn't know how to ask what had happened that caused the change of who married who. They all seemed friends now, Connie, Mercy and Richard, so maybe it was best left unasked? He didn't want to stir things up if they were resting quietly or anything, even with their kids. That kind of thing could cause feuds, and even wars, he guessed, if royalty was involved.
So he was surprised when Trice said she just didn't know the story without his asking. Rolph sat up a little straighter and leaned forward as if getting ready to tell a big secret.
“Alright, I wasn't forbidden from telling this story, it isn't a secret or anything, but there are some things… probably best kept quiet in general. Dad thought I needed to know, so he told me this the other day, the whole story intertwines with many others of course, like all good tales do.” The carriage shook, going over cobble stones, meaning they were nearing the outer wall, the gate drawing near.
“When dad was a kid, he and his brother were sent off for special tutoring with Count Lairdgren, where our school is now actually. I mentioned the other day how dad virtually knelt before the man when they met? Unusual to say the least, because the guy's only a Count right? But it turns out he's not just a Count… He's an ancient.”
Patricia gasped and stiffened under Tor's hand.
“Seriously? They're real?” She looked baffled, searching Rolph's face for a hint that he was joking.
“I know! That's what I said too and I'm sure that the look I gave him was at least as disbelieving. I mean, ancients? That's a tale for children right? But no, Lairdgren is one, the Green man, which is why his coming to sign mere Squire papers for Tor is big. Huge really. Like if dad went to Two Bends to witness a random wedding or something. I mean, we all know that Tor's a big deal, but…” This last was for Tor, at least if the significant look Rolph was giving him was any indication.
“Back then they had their own little school. Dad, mom, Uncle Kedrin, Aunt Mercy, Uncle Eric, some guy named Glost Serge, who's now some high muckity in Austra of all things and Lairdgren's daughter. Apparently at one time or another they all fell in love with each pairing in some kind of comedy of errors, and dad and mom just ended up being together when time came to marry. Grandfather was going to enforce the original marriage plans, but Lairdgren wouldn't let him. Apparently said that trying to force things never worked out well or something so Granddad relented, because who would argue with an ancient? Not much of a tale, except the whole ancient thing…”
Tor looked at Sara, who shrugged at him. He got the whole marriage thing now, the two kids had fallen in love and arranged marriage or not, they went ahead with the love match. He'd heard of that at least, it was in some of the stories his sisters liked to hear at bedtime for instance. Really, wasn't it what he and Trice were pretending at right now? But ancients? Like old people or something? Tor nearly asked, but Sara did instead, clearly just as perplexed as he was.
Trice answered. “Right, I didn't know that you wouldn't have them in your kid's stories too, but basically the ancients are people from the time of great change, thousands of years ago. Supposedly, or so the story goes, there were six to nine people, the number varies, that were there as the world started to fall apart. Some old society had nearly destroyed the world or something. Normal stuff… they made bad choices, got greedy and used things up instead of controlling themselves. Really I always figured those as instructional stories, you know, don't set your own house on fire if you're locked inside, waste not want not, prudence before greed, that kind of thing?
“Anyway, these people all set out and started their own societies, based on different principles and technologies. Noram based on magic, Afrak on the manipulation of family lines, Austra on the old machines and science, Soam on harmony and love. But supposedly, for some reason the original six or so people are still alive. Some lost trick or something. We call them the ancients. Each has a color associated with them, White, Gray, Black, Brown, Red and Green.”
That, apparently, was the heart of it. Tor almost laughed. Obviously these were just children's tales and the King was simply having one on with his son. Still, if the King wanted them to believe that the Count of Tor's county was some ancient fellow from a kiddie book, then who was he to gainsay the man? It didn't matter one way or the other, so he could go along with it. Why not? It was certainly more entertaining than the world just being what he'd always been told it was.
Once they finally got up in the air, hours later, Tor found that the new flying rigs, which he hadn't gotten to test himself before, were more sensitive in the controls, but flew wonderfully once he got used to it. What had taken them all nearly seven hours to cover before they managed in less than four now. He had to pull into the front by a good ways and start slowing down waving his right hand to signal everyone to stop when he started recognizing landmarks on the ground.
It was embarrassing, but he had to have them fly back about ten miles, because he'd overshot the tiny village without noticing it at all. It was in the forest, under a canopy of pine trees for the most part, except the outlying farms. They worked their way towards it much more slowly and landed in the center of the main street gently, dodging trees on the way down, luggage settling along the road, a beaten dirt path, but dry this time of year, since they all had to be spread out to keep from hitting each other.
Count Thomson hadn't even landed all the way when Tom, the mayor of the village, ran out of his blacksmith shop and started greeting everyone.
“Lairds! Swel'com ter Stewbens! Swel'com!” He gestured around the street at the few tiny buildings that lined it. “Ple'sure sars, 'an we halp you?”
Everyone looked at Tor, baffled. Ah! They couldn't understand? He'd forgotten how thick the local accent could sound, almost like a foreign language unless you listened hard. It wasn't though, not really. Mainly at least. For one thing it was far more irregular than a language would have been, people making up their own variations of words on the fly. It was fast and changed from conversation to conversation. The root of the words were there though all the time, you just had to learn to listen for them.
Tor smiled and translated for them.
“He said; Lords, welcome to Two Bends, the pleasure of having you is ours. Can we help you?”
Tom stared at him for a second, his eyes going huge.
“Lil' Storence Baky? Wha'cher fly boutfer? Yer werk'en on fer great lairds now? Baky fer'm?”
Torrence laughed and explained.
“This is the village mayor, Tom, he wants to know why I'm flying about and if I'm working for you as a baker now.” He stepped closer to Tom, trying to figure out how to explain everything quickly in a way the man could understand.
“Na'Tom, n'baky fer'm. Dis'be Laird Duke Morgan, h'wif an gel. Ehm… Goldy gel be high merchie kid an der redyboy's me frien an ower school. Gian'be Count Thomson. Dis'n here t'meet ma's fer to marry me!”
Then he had to explain that he just introduced them all and told the man that they were here to see his mother. Everyone looked amazed as if speaking like this was special. If they wanted special they should realize how hard it was to speak like they did all the time. Enunciating every word carefully and hitting all the hard consonants took practice. Plus you always had to use each word exactly right to be understood.
He managed to break off from Tom, the man obviously wanting to go and get the whole town out to meet the guests, which would be annoying at the moment, and walked the group over to the bakery to protect them from that fate. They resettled the trunks in front of the building, not that anyone would steal anything, he told them, but just so that if anyone came through with a horse or wagon they wouldn't be in the way. No need to make anyone else's day more stressful, right? Seeing the luggage, most of the people in Two Bends would just wait for the obviously important people to move it, without ever asking them to or anything pushy like that.
Tor felt like he should have written ahead or something, even though there hadn't been time for it. He just hoped everyone would be alright with the sudden influx of strange people. His parents were great, but Two Bends got something like three visitors a year most of the time and as far as he knew none of them had ever been royals at all. Or flown in.
Then again Tom hadn't seemed overly shocked by the flying, just a bit like he wondered why Tor was doing it, so possibly the village had at least heard of it. He walked to the un-porched front of the drab, unpainted bakery, the wood looking weathered and poor after the gleaming white walls of the Capital. He'd warned them all, but felt uneasy and embarrassed. Well, if they were going to pull out of the arrangement, this was the time to do it. He could almost bear it right now, if he was told he just wasn't good enough for a fine lady like Trice. After all, that was just the truth. If it had gone on longer, if they'd gotten even closer, then it would probably kill him to lose her.
Tor wanted to kick himself as he thought that, because he knew, for a fact, that it would end sooner or later. He needed to grow up and adapt to the new world he was in and not let himself get too close to Trice. It was enough that she was his good friend, right? It was hard to remember with all the kissing, but that, really, was the important thing. If he could just keep that, it would all be worth it.
He didn't even have his hand on the door when it burst open and three small projectiles hit him hard, taking him all the way to the ground in a heap of tiny bodies.
“S'torence! S'torence!” The little voices squeaked at him as they climbed all over him for a few seconds, then the older two stopped, eyes going wide as they looked at the strangers. His sister Tara, who was only seven, hid behind him and pulled little Taman, the youngest, behind her protectively. His brother Terry looked at the newcomers with a tilt of the head.
“S'whos des?”
Tor explained who everyone was and asked if dad and mom were around. A few seconds later his father, wearing a buff colored heavy apron with more than a little flour on it walked out of the shop, clapping his son on the back heartily. He looked like a baker, but Tor just shrugged. If that wasn't impressive enough for his friends, then they shouldn't have come to a bakery, right?
“Dad,” Tor used his home accent naturally with his father, who wouldn't have understood him if he hadn't, most likely. “These are my friends and, well, this…” He took Trice's hand and smiled. “This is Patricia Alyson Morgan. She's agreed to marry me, if you and mom say it's alright. They're really good people, even if a trifle over tall. These are her parents… Can I, do you think?”
His father laughed and walked towards the Morgans, dwarfed by their great height but not overly intimidated for some reason. He held out his hand to Eric and shook with the man, patting his arm like they were old friends. Natural enough, he'd have done the same if Tor had come home with a girl from one village over and her parents. He also shook with Mercy who smiled at him and said hello.
In his thick dialect he explained that Tor's mother would be out in a few moments, since she had some berry pies to watch in the oven. It wouldn't do to let them burn after all. He offered them all a drink, the local hard cider or water, since they hadn't been expecting any guests and that's what they had chilled in the spring house, well that and some fruit juice for the kids. But you didn't offer juice to adults, he mentioned to Tor with a sideways glance and a small smirk. His da always teased him a little about not drinking and had for years.
Tor went with him to the small shack about a hundred yards from the back of the bakery, away from the house by twice that distance, where a natural spring burbled out of the ground.
“Tor! So… well, I guess we'll get the story of how you managed to rope the poor girl into marrying some Two Bends kid later, what is she? Merchant from the city?”
“No da, she's… actually she's what they call a “Ducherina”. That's the kid of a Duke or Duchess that won't inherit anything really. Her mom's a Baroness, but Trice won't get that title either. It's, really she shouldn't be marrying someone like me, but don't tell, alright? Obviously they know who I am and who we are, but I don't want to scare them off.” Tor grinned.
His dad grunted a little and got the jugs that were being held in the water, metal containers that while plain were tight and didn't leak into the spring at all. Tor took the hard cider, really no stronger than the wine the nobles drank day to day, so it shouldn't bother them too much and walked back towards where everyone waited, his father smiling a little.
“So, do you love the girl? Trees, you said her name was? Funny name, but it fits in here at least.”
“Trice, like Treez, yeah. That's not her full name, like I said earlier, Patricia. But to answer your question, yes. I really do, I mean enough for marrying, we're friends. I kind of have for a while now, but… that she's willing to be seen with me in public was more than I thought I should ask for, you know? That she's willing to actually do this…” He couldn't get himself to tell his dad that it was all make believe. Tor still didn't even know why Trice was willing to go along with him about it.
His dad patted him on the back.
“Well, love can make people do strange things. I got your mother after all…”
His father went inside to get some glasses, not wanting to try and crowd the giants into the tiny store front, they set up at the long outdoor table in the clearing behind the shop. It was just a bunch of split logs nailed with spikes to a sturdy frame. It had been there, with its two long benches made in a similar fashion, since before Tor had been born, he thought. It was big enough for the whole family, as long as they were cuddly about it.
A minute later his dad came back holding several glasses, the good ones for company that Tor had never seen them actually use, followed by his tiny mother, who also carried several glasses. She rounded the corner and smiled.
“S'torence ndeed! Goodn'see ya. Missing'yer we did.” She set the glasses down on the table and hugged him, tears forming in her eyes. Wiping them a bit, she looked at the people sitting around the table and stiffened, her face going blank.
This, Tor knew, might be a problem.
She'd always taught all of the kids to be at least a little wary around nobles of any kind and now here he was bringing in a bunch of them, claiming one might want to marry him. It could be a hard sell, if she panicked.
She didn't.
Instead she turned to her husband and asked him if he'd bring out some butter and bread rolls, the fresh ones, for their guests. He nodded and went to do it, looking at her oddly.
Letting go of Torrence she took a deep breath and moved towards the table, her demeanor shifting, her face changing from what he'd grown up seeing, kind and a little care worn, to something that looked younger and a bit regal. She stood dressed in her brown homespun with a matron's kerchief on her head and a heavy apron over her light brown shirt that didn't even have buttons, just ties to hold it in place.
It took a second, but the smile fell from Mercy's face first, replaced by a look of shock. Duke Morgan looked at Tor's mom strangely for a few seconds, then he stood.
“Laurie?”
“Hello Eric. Mercy. How have you been?”
Tor looked at his mother as if she'd grown a second head. He hadn't known that she knew how to speak anything other than the regional dialect, but her accent was… good. Better than his when he tried to speak standard.
“Laurie!” The Baroness ran towards the smaller woman and swept her up into her arms, hugging her like a child.
“God, Laurie, we all thought you were dead!”