Wizard's Tower - Arc 2 - Chapter 36

Sorry for the delay!  I'm still not happy with the beginning of this chapter, but I'm having problems figuring out why.  It might be me being a perfectionist, or it could be me overlooking something obvious.  If you can tell, please let me know!

I gazed at the newly raised Count Wilchest who sat across from me in the carriage. He and nearly half of the Shielding’s family had been in Eiston, along with a good portion of their soldiery. Apparently, when the King had demoted his father, the former Count Shielding, the man had sent his forces and his sons eastward to swear into my service.

That wasn’t something I wanted, the responsibility for the lives of others was more burden than power for me. I wouldn’t even have known they were headed my way except for sheer happenstance. The Duchess had been adamant about negotiating my participation in the war, and while I normally would have been dismissive of the idea, I had not fully prepared myself for publicly negotiating with a widow while standing over her husband’s corpse.

Even now, her words held a power within them. I felt the echo of them in the back of my mind. I will pay any price for justice. It was not a skill or a spell, but a sheer depth of emotion that resonated with a part of myself that I had long sealed away. Those barrels stuck in the corner of my thoughts had creaked and cracked. I had to contend with the woman at the same time I had fought off emotions from long past that threatened to overcome me.

Yet, I was also no general. I wanted no higher position or responsibility. Her treasury? It didn’t interest me. The gold and paintings and whatever else nobles collected would be useless in the face of the coming Pestilence. Couches? Certainly. She had trapped me well. If I had declined her request in front of her court and over the body of her husband, I would have my entire reputation ruined. If I had taken all she offered then, likewise, I would be viewed as a wasp that feeds on carrion.

Above all those thoughts, though, I had been struck by my own sympathy. It wasn’t long ago that Walker’s death had consumed my thoughts, and the grief I felt for him seemed only a paltry thing compared to what the woman must be experiencing. If I were in her place, what bargains would I not strike? What distances would I not travel?

This is how I found myself in a carriage traveling toward Lark ahead of a wagon carrying four couches, a wagon with supplies, and a troop of more than a thousand knights, soldiers, and guards. Certainly, I could travel ahead and trust these men and women to guard my new furniture, but I had waited more than a hundred years for a good couch. Now I had four.

One of the couches was a soft cream color, plusher than the others. Of the other three, one was long enough for two people to lay head to feet, covered in a thick blue fabric. While its cushions were firmer than the rest, I believed it would go perfect along a wall. The other two, nearly identical tan couches were of a—

“Savior, shall I regale you the tale of my exploits in the north while we travel?” Count Wilchrest asked as he looked out the window of the carriage.

My thoughts were interrupted, and I couldn’t help but scowl at the new Count. The man had been more than thrilled with the honor afforded to him with his new position. It verified whatever misplaced trust their family placed in me, and he had hummed and quivered with sheer joy at the circumstances. That was even without having any kind of estate in the barony to speak of.

But for all of his joy yesterday and today, I had no desire to listen to him prattle on about his battle accolades.  So, with a firm unquestionable tone, I answered, “No.”

The nostrils on his upturned nose flared, but he showed no further reaction beyond that.  It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the actions he took at my words. He had clearly paid for it, if the new scars I could see on his forearms and face were any indication. It was that I was having fun considering how I would arrange my new couches in my sitting room.

“Savior?” he asked, his hand waving towards the window. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it looked as though one of his fingers had been shorted by two knuckles.  

Outside the window, I saw something that irritated me to no end. I could feel a vein at my temple pulse. There, on the road, walked a large band of dirty children. Their worn, distant faces displayed a misery I could feel from even inside the carriage. What clothes they wore were barely rags, and most had no shoes or sandals to speak of. A few sported fresh injuries, either bruises or bleeding.

That these children looked injured, dirty and malnourished wasn’t the worst of what I saw. The worst was the three nuns I had met in Sena City that accompanied them. I overlooked their burdened expressions and dirty uniforms to foresee that there was only one reason they could be leading this band of children down this road. They intended to make it my responsibility.

I rattled on the top of the carriage, then opened the window to tell the driver to stop. The carriage, and the entire train of wagons behind us, slowed until we were no longer moving. When Count Wilchrest and I stepped from our carriage, we were nearly a quarter-mile beyond the first of the children and nuns.

Beside me, Count Wilchrest softly cursed, “By the dead sea gods.”

I could have gone to greet them, but I didn’t. I stood and waited for their slow trod to reach me nearly half an hour later. As they came near, I realized they looked much worse now than I had considered them to be at first glance. One nun carried a limp toddler in her arms, a child so pale I doubted it still lived.

There were also many, many more than those I had seen at the orphanage. Even if they took every child from other orphanages across Sena City, I couldn’t imagine it would have led to this number of children. At a swift count, I estimated at least five hundred, though trying to count their tiny figures was a task unto itself.

The crowd of children grouped into a giant throng, pushing and jostling each other in mean spirits. The three nuns conferred amongst themselves before the nun carrying the dead child passed her burden on to a different nun and approached.

“Master Nemon, it is good to see you,” she greeted with a low curtsey, lower than the difference in our stations called for. The woman was much thinner now than I remembered from our brief meeting in the capital, though I had never caught her name.

“Sister,” I started, but then stopped myself. I wasn’t certain how to properly put into words the questions on my mind.

She gave me a look I had seen on children before, but rarely on adults. It was the kind of look a child gave when they knew they had been caught doing something wrong but weren’t ashamed of their actions.

“Great Wiz—” she began and then stopped. She did that three more times, each seeming as if they were the beginnings of a speech she had prepared but couldn’t remember the words to. After the third try, she gave up her attempt, and instead slouched her shoulders. With a defeated tone in her voice, she spoke again, “Great Wizard, we had no other choice. The army kept coming for children younger and younger. We fled the city. Yet, once we were outside, we could think of no place to go. The king’s men would find us at any temple or monastery we could seek refuge at.”

She turned, then, away from me and gave the quieting crowd of children behind her a look filled with sadness, “And along the way, we came across more and more orphans. It was as if Elora’s light was guiding them onto our path. Giving them a family when theirs was lost. I never forgot your words, either. That you could think of no way to save them save for adopting them all.”

She turned back and looked into my eyes, a pleading look, “When the King’s men found us, I lied. Elora forgive me but I lied. I told them you had adopted all these children. If they felt umbrage, to take it up with you.”

She paused, as if expecting a rebuttal, and then starting speaking as if I had given one, despite my silence, “Lord Fargus, I know you cannot adopt all these children, not even the greatest among us could care for so many. But I beg you not to turn us away. Elora will help us find a way, I swear it! Please, please have faith.”

Beside me, I heard Count Wilchrest sniffle. When I glanced over, there were tears falling freely from his face. He met my eyes, and we both came to the same conclusion without speaking a single word. With a slight nod of my head, he turned and began barking orders towards his soldiers, assigning two per child. For my part, I graced the nun, with a contained smile.

Her face brightened, and a look of immense relief graced it.  I imagine if I were steward for five hundred children and someone relieved me of that task, I would feel similarly lightened. I returned to my carriage before I had to face any overabundance of praise or thanks, prepared to once again consider my placement of couches in the sitting room. It was unlikely we would be traveling further today, given the condition of our additional travelers, but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend time among them at the moment.

So, it came to me as a complete surprise when there was already someone inside the carriage. A boy of maybe twelve winters was fast asleep, curled up on my bench. I pressed my lips together, before turning back around and heading towards where soldiers and children were greeting each other. While I couldn’t do anything for their injuries or hunger, I could possibly tell a tale or two to entertain them for the rest of the day.