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“Don’t worry, Enver,” Lash said – not for the first time, since they had started their little trip through the city. “It is gonna be fine.”
“I am not worried,” he lied. At least his voice was firm enough to not let her suspect the lie.
The woman looked at him, raising one eyebrow in a clear sign that she did not believe him at all. She did not comment further, though, just continuing her way through the streets of the Lower City.
Enver was not really sure about this. He had been allowed to leave his home for about five months now – always under the guard of at least two Flaming Fists, who even now in the middle of Harkon were dutifully walking after him. Lash’s reasoning was, that he needed to get out at least during the winter holidays. Sure, not all the cults of the world celebrated any of the midwinter celebrations, but her family did – and she had decided that it was a good idea to drag him along.
He could not imagine such a thing.
For one thing, the idea of the “holiday spirit” was very much lost on him. Whatever people were talking about, he had never once experienced it. His logical mind was going to assume it was mainly a thing of nostalgia. People, who had had a childhood with families who actually cared about them, were probably repeating the same rituals of their childhood, trying to feel the same magic they had once felt about it. But his family had never celebrated any of the midwinter festivities, so to him winter was mainly the time of year where he was at his most miserable.
For the other part, though, he was rather certain that this family of hers would not at all be delighted to have him there. Be it, because he was her employer, and an employer did not belong onto a family celebration. Or be it, because he was personally responsible for the city almost burning to the ground – and her family knew that as well as most other people here.
Also, he doubted that anyone would be delighted to have city guards joining such festivities. And while darn Avariel had somehow managed to get him to be allowed to leave his home, he would never be out of the sight of any Flaming Fists for too long.
He sighed, while trying to somewhat walk upright. His joints were once more aching. The wet cold of the winter months was really not doing him good.
He knew quite well that Lash meant well, just as he had to admit that there had been… possible certain other people, who had meant well. And yet, he could not get himself to feel particularly happy about it.
It was one of the Fists accompanying him – a rather tall woman named Antonia – who raised her voice. “Your family is living in the outer city?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Lash said. “I mean, it’s not really affordable to live with so many people in the actual city, is it now? We’re luckier than most, living in Norchapel. It’s fairly close.”
Enver could not help a dry scoff at that. They had not even reached Basilisk gate, and he was already exhausted. He tried to not show it, because there was just this last little bit of pride inside of him, that would refuse to die. But had he been less prideful, he would have already collapsed.
Lash did notice the scoff and looked at him. “Y’know I can carry you, right, saer?”
“I am doing perfectly fine, Lash,” he replied, once more lying. “But thank you.” Though he knew that his voice did not really sound thankful as he spoke those words.
She smiled never the less. “You’re very welcome, saer.”
Enver hated, how much he was sweating by the time they finally arrived at the home.
It was… well…
To be frank, he was not certain what he had expected. He had known that Lash had a big family, and that her family was not particularly wealthy. It was a half-timber home with a thatched roof, but it was so much smaller than what he would have imagined given her tales of how big her family was.
It was standing to the side of a quite muddy road, as the roads in the outer city were not paved in any meaningful way. Given there was still snow to the sides of the road, but a mixture of hundreds of people walking the streets, as well as animals, the snow on the road had melted into a cold, muddy mixture.
“Do you…” he started, but she had already knocked on the door.
It only took a moment for the door to be opened by a red-haired woman of a rather broad build. “Lash!” the woman greeted his housekeeper, smiling at her. “We were wondering when you’d come!”
“I am back, Auntie Hessia,” Lash said. “You just gotta see, Enver ain’t the fastest walker.”
The woman, Lash had called Hessia, seemed human, judging by her round ears, though given her build he wondered, if she had had some orcish ancestors. Her hair was very curly and very red, her skin quite pale though.
She looked him over now. “So… That is the former tyrant?”
Enver grimaced at that, but Lash only laughed it off.
“Yap, that’d be him,” she said. “And, well… Those are Antonia and Zenkrem, who are gonna be his… well… His guard for today.”
Hessia gave a short laugh as well. “Duke Ravengard does leave him on a short leash, doesn’t he?”
Lash shrugged. “Well… For now.” She smiled though. “May we come in?”
“It is your home as well, dearest,” her aunt just said, stepping to the side.
With a gesture Lash invited Enver to follow, though he had not quite expected the smell when he entered the home.
The smell, well… It was mostly the scent of smoke. A heavy, heavy scent of wood smoke filled the room, extinguishing almost any other scent that might have been there.
And there should be other scents no doubt. After all, he found himself surrounded by two dogs and a rather aggressive pig a moment later. The dogs barking, while the pig squealed at the intruder of the home.
“Ey! Ey!” Lash grunted, pulling the pig of all things back. “Elmer, don’t! He is a guest, you know?”
The pig, that was about twice the size of the already large dogs, squealed in protest, looking at Enver with beady angry eyes.
“I know, Elms. I know. But he is my guest, do you hear?”
At this the pig gave a grunt, and looked at Lash, before trotting off into one of the corners of the single-room building. Whatever this was though, the dogs seemed to take it as a sign, as they looked after the pig, huffed, and followed the other animal.
Whatever this was, though, it had made sure that he had the attention of everyone in the room. And it was… It was a lot of people. More than a dozen in fact. Nineteen, if he was not mistaken. With the four of them joining twenty-three.
A silence stretched for far too long to be comfortable, before a boy, who had been under the table with a chicken on his lap, sniffled and asked: “That’s the guy, Lash?”
“Jap, Dran,” she replied. “That’s the guy.”
The boy put the chicken to the side and came out crawling from under the table. He eyed Enver. Again he sniffled.
It was clear that the boy – like Lash – was a half-orc. His tusks already showing rather well. “He does not look like on those posters,” he finally decided.
Enver grimaced. He was obviously quite aware, that those posters from more than a year ago, were not quite accurate to any of this anymore. He had gained a lot of weight in that last year – and while a few weeks ago, his hair and beard had been considerably longer, now it was a good bit shorter than back then.
There was man. And older orc, who gave a grunt at this. “Well, as I told you, Dran. Never believe anything you see printed.”
Another moment of silence, that lased well too long to be comfortable, but then one of the adults – a clearly orcish woman – started to laugh, and others somehow followed.
“Well,” Lash said. “And these are Antonia and Zenkrem from the fists. Just so… Just so you know.”
Her family acknowledged this, before whatever spell had asked for the silence before seemed to be broken, and people fell back into conversations.
Enver gritted his teeth. He had known that this was a bad idea. There was not really any way that anyone actually wanted to have him here. It just was… He guess this was a family, who cared about each other. So whenever Lash had suggested bringing him here, they might not have argued with her. Or maybe they even had. What did he know?
No matter what had happened, though. Now Lash put a hand onto his shoulder, guiding him over to the large table. She got a stool for him. There were no proper chairs here. And she gestured for him to sit.
A part of him wanted to push back against it. But his joints were hurting too much. So for once, he could not be anything but reasonable, grunting with some barely suppressed pain, allowing himself to breathe a bit easier though, once he was sitting.
A moment later, Lash handed him a towel, and once more he gritted his teeth. But he understood very well, using it to dry his face.
Then she waved over the Fists. “You sit down as well. Bad enough that you gotta work on Midwinter, right?”
Zenkrem shot her a hesitant look, but then sat down on the empty barrel she offered him to sit on. “Thank you, Ms. Lash.”
She laughed at that. “Ms. Lash?”
The Flaming Fist just gave a shrug. “I wouldn’t know what else to call you.”
“Just Lash will do,” she said. She drew in a deep breath. “So, y’all need a drink.” She paused. “Enver won’t drink alcohol, and the two of you are probably not gonna drink on duty, are ye?”
“We shouldn’t,” Antonia replied.
“Eh. Then it is juice bowl, like we make for the kids,” Lash decided. “Just wait a moment.”
Enver just sighed. He was not sure, why he had even allowed her to talk him into coming here. Maybe it was, because in some regard she was not completely wrong, no matter how much he hated to admit it. He was lonely. He always had been. Well, almost always. There had not been a whole lot of friends in his life. One probably had died to a devil. The next he had sold out to a devil. And the last was very likely also dead – even though it had not been him who was responsible for that death. But it did not matter. The one of them who was still around, hated him so much, that she would rather kill him than spend any time in his presence. And worst of all: He understood the sentiment on some level.
“There you go, Enver.” Lash pressed a wooden cup into his hand. “It is some apple and pear juice and water.”
He might have smelled it, if there was anything to smell inside of this home other than the woodsmoke. “Thank you,” he muttered, before noting how she also pressed a cup each onto the hands of the two Fists. “Now, I am gonna help my auntie with some of the food. You… Well, play nice.” She smirked at him, before going over to the rather wide fireplace.
He looked at the murky mixture in the cub in his hands, before giving a soft sigh. Drank a sip, and while the scent of the smoke was still filling his nose, he was able to taste some of the sweetness of the drink.
He looked around in the room.
Yes, he had known that Lash’s family was fairly poor, but this home was tiny for the amount of people living it. From all he could tell, it only had two rooms. This main room, and the attic above. He could see the ladder leading up there.
Sure, the residence was technically maybe a bit bigger when it came to the base area than the small town house in which his family had lived – but they had only been three people. This was… Well, it was twenty people.
And so far he could see at least seven animals. The two dogs, the pig, and four chicken. He would not be surprised if there was a goat or sheep somewhere, being kept for the milk.
He jerked, when something touched his leg.
Only a moment later, he realized that it was the half-orc boy, whom he had seen before.
Enver was not good when it came to estimated the ages of orcs and their half-blood brethren. He knew they reached adulthood faster than humans would. The boy, Dran if Enver was not mistaken, looked about ten in human age, but he was really not sure what that meant for an half-orc.
The boy had brown eyes, that now looked at Enver. “So,” he said slowly. “I heard you are the one who like controlled the big brain-thingie that was floating over the river last year.”
Enver found himself grimacing again. “Well, no. I did not control it. That was kind of the problem.”
“Huh.” The boy seemed to think about this for a long moment. “So… What exactly did you do?”
Enver was silent for a moment.
Half-orcs aged quicker than human kids, and he assumed a human kid of ten years was barely capable of really understanding what had happened last year. He was not sure. After all, children were not the kind of people he usually dealt with.
When did not answer, the boy frowned. “What? It is a question!”
“If you need to know,” Enver grunted, “I served Bane the god of tyranny, collaborating with the chosen of Bhaal, the god of murder, to bring death and fear over the city the likes of it, the Gate had never experienced.”
“Huh.” The boy blinked for a moment. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Enver said coldly. “You tell me.”
The kid was silent, thinking about it. “Yeah, I think it is bad.” Then he got up, grabbing one of the chickens. “Well, anyway. This is Isabel. She gets nervous, when she is on the ground. Hold her for a bit, will ya?”
“What?” Enver stared at the kid, only to find the aforementioned chicken put onto his lap a moment later, where it gave off a indeed nervous sounding clucking sound.
He stared at the animal. A rather large chicken indeed, with bright brownish feathers. The animal did not tense, though, and instead settled down on his lap, while he was sitting there, feeling rather silly. Was the kid playing a prank on him?
He was not certain.
He sighed. He really was not certain, what he was supposed to be doing here. But something told him rather certainly that he did not belong here at all.
As the time passed on, Enver guessed it was a good thing that not many people tried to talk to him for a good while. He was sitting there like an idiot with the chicken still on his lap. Some part of him was tempted to push the animal away, but he was not certain if he would anger anyone. And, admittedly, he also found the sensation of burying his fingers in the feathers rather soothing – especially as his head was already spinning from all the noise filling the room.
Lash was standing at the fireplace together with another woman. The other woman was undoubtedly a full orc, with darker skin than Lash had, and way more pronounced tusks. Enver was going to assume she was the sister of Lash’s father then.
It was fairly clear who Lash’s father was, too.
An orc, of course. Enver had known that. An old orc, with thin, greyish hair. And despite his age and the fragility that should come with it, he still was build rather broadly.
He was holding a kid on his lap how. A half-orc girl, that looked to about eleven or twelve, though was probably younger. Again. Enver was not good estimating the ages of half-orcs.
He looked at the different people.
Three of them were orcs, most of them were half-orcs. There were two adult human women, and one adult human men in the family. Given that Lash’s mother was human, he assumed one of the other humans was her sister, and another was probably another person folded into the family by marriage.
He was not fully sure. Lash talked a lot about her family, but he had never quite gotten a proper understanding of how everyone was related.
If anything, it was at least somewhat appeasing to him, that his two guards were about as misplaced here, as he was.
He sighed.
While the scent of woodsmoke was still overwhelming it was by now somewhat intermingled with the scent of fish grilling over the flames – and other clearly sea-based dishes.
It was not as if the thought of having to eat was filling him with joy. But he knew very well that it was another necessity he would not get around. For once, because he understood he would not get better if he was not to eat. But also, because his time as a noble in the city had taught him rather well, that eating was a thing people did in polite society, when attending such gatherings. If a single person was refusing to eat, everyone else was going to assume they were trying to poison everyone else.
He looked at the chicken, that seemed way to comfortable on his lap, and just wished he was at home.
“So.” A voice made him look up into the face of an older orc lady. Probably the aunt of Lash, he was to assume. “Ye’re that Enver Gortash fella.”
Again he grimaced. “I suppose I am, yes. What about it?”
She pulled another stool closer, the wooden legs scraping over the ground. “Eh, kinda imagined ye to be different.”
He did not look at the woman. She was older too, but again he was incapable of actually estimating her age. “How so?”
While he did not look directly at her, he was still quite aware how she was sizing him up. “Well, for once I guess I was going too much by those bloody posters that’d been printed all over the darn city. But, I guess I imagined something… Dunno. Something more impressive.”
He could not help a scoff. “I am sorry to disappoint.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “I just… Y’know. I heard those stories, about what ye did and all that. And I guess… I guess I imagined more of like some fangs or shit at least.” She eyed him carefully. “Though I guess those nasty scars kinda check out.”
“I am glad that I am not a total disappointment then,” he replied.
“Ah, man. Don’t be so grumpy, Mister, saer. I am just saying. I mean, us all, we’re really darn shocked, when we heard that the guy that dear Lash had been working for was behind all those bloody things happening to the city, right?”
“Right,” he said.
“And we had a good talk ‘bout it, but dear Lash, she said, there was nothing to be won if she quit the job, ye know?”
Yes, he could quite well imagine that.
He had never quite considered the orcs in the city outside of how they were of use to him. While the entire story of the fall of Elturel had been played into his cards, the orcs had been about as plausible of a group to target everyone’s anger on, had the tiefling refugees making their way to the city not drawn so much attention, that it had made more sense.
But yes, he was quite aware of the fact, that orcs were met with about as much mistrust by the general populus as tieflings were. While tieflings were met with hostility because of their devilish bloodlines, there was still the stories going around on how orcs had been created by Gruumsh to serve his evil purposes. Some also said they had been created without a soul.
One way or another: While most of the people living in the city – and hence most of the people being impoverished in the city – were human, almost all orcs and many of the tieflings living there were poor. Because quite few people were willing to offer them a job.
Meanwhile, he had not really cared about much, outside of the ability of his stuff to keep their mouths shut about anything that might happen in the walls of his mansion. He had also always assumed that orcs and tieflings had a greater moral flexibility, compared to other people. A prejudice, maybe. But then again, he reasoned, did moral flexibility not often arise from hardship? So who, if not those people, were more likely to be flexible in their morals?
He grunted again. “I guess.”
“Still surprised, the Duke let ye live,” the orc-woman said. “But Lash said something about this one guy. The hero guy, who did the defeating of that brain-thingie.”
“It is called an Elderbrain,” he said. “Though I guessed, by the end of it all, it called itself the Netherbrain.”
“It called itself?” She looked at him. “That thing could speak?”
“No,” he replied. “But it communicated telepathically. You would hear its voice speaking to your brain. Directly to your brain.”
She frowned. “I imagine that to be bloody spooky.”
“You will get used to it.”
She thought about that for a good long moment. “It spoke to ye?”
“It had a habit of threatening me with death,” he said. “On the basis of me being the one who had enslaved it to begin with.”
“Enslaved it?” She raised her voice now. “That thing?”
He gave a dry laugh. “It was a good plan. Or at least we thought so at the time.”
The woman was silent at this. “Was it, though?”
“In the sense of getting me, what I wanted. Yes.”
“Hmm.” She seemed to think about it. “How many would have died in the course of it?”
He shot her a chilly gaze. “I worked together closely with the chosen of Bhaal, god of murder, and Myrkul, god of death. Make your own calculations based on that.”
“Don’t sound like a good plan, then,” she noted.
“I thought it was perfect,” he said, barely noticing how he buried his fingers in the feathers of the chicken.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because it would have given me what I wanted.”
“So? And what’d that’ve been?”
He turned to her. “Why would you care?”
Another shrug on her shoulders. “I’m just tryin’ to figure ye out, good saer. Ye know? The man my dear niece’s been working for. She’s talking well of ye, ye know that?”
“She is?” He almost scoffed again.
“She’s. She’s telling that ye are generous with that salary of hers. And that ye are doing a lot better lately. She’s saying, too, that she thinks ye could do good.”
Which would make her sound much like the idiot Avariel, whom he had not seen in months. Even though he did not quite get it. Why the man had been so insistent first, before disappearing for good. He should not complain, though.
“She is…” He stopped himself, only noticing the chicken again now, as it was clucking. “Lash is a good housekeeper,” he said. Not that he had much of a choice on that matter either way.
He was still feeling rather shitty, as he was sitting there. And yet, he could not go. Or, well. He guessed he could, but even he was aware enough of the social norms to not do it, because…
He guessed he cared about Lash enough to do her that favor?
As he had guessed already from the smell mixing with the woodsmoke, the food served was quite heavy on fish. There was boiled lobster, as well as some ocean fish that had been grilled. Was it cod? He was not certain.
It all was served with some grilled potatoes and vegetables.
It was worse food than he would usually afford. Or rather it was worse than what Lash would usually buy for him, given that she was the one doing the grocery shopping for him on most days. And there was this rather tightening feeling in his chest again, when he realized that these people were still going to share it with him – and the two guards that had to come along no matter of their own opinions and plans.
He did not like this feeling. Though it made sure that when he was served a plate, he knew he would at least eat it – no matter his distaste for eating in general.
He looked at the chicken, that was still sitting on his lap, having puffed up just a bit. He was not certain what to do with the animal now.
“Dren,” one of the adults grunted. “Come sit down properly.”
The kid was once more on the floor. He seemed to like that, didn’t he?
Enver sighed. He was somewhat thankful that nobody was talking to him right now. In the end, he did not quite understand why despite everything Lash evidently liked him. Oh, he got annoyed with her often enough – especially when she was treating him like a boy, despite her being just about half his age. But still… she was probably nicer to him, than he deserved in any way. The two still working for him, mainly were content ignoring him – but Lash? Lash actually cared.
Now she got another stool to sit down next to him. “How are you holding up, Enver?”
He looked at her. “I have a chicken on my lap,” he muttered drily. “And I am not quite sure, what I am supposed to do with it.”
“Oh, that is Isabela. She is very nervous.”
“So I have heard…” He looked at the puffing bird.
“But she seems to like you,” Lash noted. “I would not have guessed that much.”
“Other than the dogs and the pig…”
“Ah, the pig is Drusila, she is always protective of everyone against strangers.”
He looked at her. “You named the pig.”
“Obviously,” Lash said. She smiled, showing her fairly small tusks. “She was raised by Hasha, one of the dogs. We had two more pigs living behind the house. But her mom did not want Drusila, so Hasha took her in. And now… I think she might think she is a dog. We are not sure.”
Enver gazed over to the corner in which the pig and one of the dogs were lying on a couple of clearly old blankets. “You had two more pigs?”
“Well, had to sell them, when Grab almost lost his arm. Healers are not cheap, you know?”
“Grab?”
“My brother.” She nodded to a young man – Enver was going to assume he was about fifteen, though he looked older, sitting on the other end of the long table. “Third oldest of the eight of us. Though I guess it depends. Me and Jest are just six minutes apart.”
“Twins,” he realized, knowing the other woman she was talking about. Though despite both being half-orcs they did not look alike. Part of it might be, though, that Jest was wearing her hair very short, while Lash’s hair was long and braided.
“Yap.” She smiled. “Now eat. Before it gets cold. It’s better hot, y’know?”
He sighed. “I guess.” He moved his stool a bit closer to the table – something that seemed to irritate the chicken, just not enough for it to leave the confines of his lap. He used one of the rather simple forks to pull apart the fish meat, before hesitating. “I did not know you lived in such a small place.”
“Well, it’s an expensive city, y’know?” Lash stuffed her mouth with some of the food, and did not care to swallow before adding: “What are we gonna do? I mean, especially with that many of us. Lotta folks will not wanna have like two orcs living in their place, let alone a dozen half-orcs.”
“But this is the outer city,” Enver said. “I thought… I thought it was more affordable to live here.”
“More affordable. But the fancy houses are still expensive,” she said. “But it is fine. We are not starving, are we? We are not freezing either. So it could be a lot worse.”
“It could be a lot better too, don’t you think?”
“Eh. I mean, what else can we do? Like, a lot of kids, y’know, Enver? Like, someone needs to watch them. And ma pops and auntie Frekka are already darn old for orcs, so they ain’t gonna work anymore, are they? And… I mean, you are paying good, saer. Right now my income is about half what we make in total. It is just a lotta hungry mouths.”
He poked at the kinda reddish fish meat, before eating some of it. He did not like that strange feeling in his chest, as he was considering this all. Just as he still hated the feeling of the mushy food in his mouth, before he swallowed. “What… What if I paid you more?”
“I couldn’t accept that, saer,” she muttered, continuing to eat.
“Why not?”
She took up a piece of the lobster, ripping the meat out of the shell with her fingers. “Because with all your faults, Enver, you’re already paying better than most would for a housemaid.”
“It does not make a whole lot of difference, given that I only have three people working for me now,” he replied.
“It still wouldn’t be right, saer.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you or Duke Ravengard to think, I only invited you here, for you to give me alms or anything.”
He looked at her. Now, in some regard he could understand pride. He was a prideful man after all. But not when it came to money. No, not when it came to that. “It won’t be alms. I…”
“Most housekeepers even in the upper city make not about twenty-five gold pieces a month,” she replied. “You pay me thirty-five.”
“And I can easily afford paying you fifty,” he said.
“No, saer. It would not be right. And that’s all I will say for it.”
He hesitated, still tempted to not let the conversation end here. Yet, he was also aware that some of the other members of this family were looking at them. And he… It was ironic, maybe. But these days, he did not like the people looking at him. “Fine,” he said, before continuing to eat. What else was he going to say in this situation?
Sure, there were things he could say and do. But somehow he was almost certain that either one of them would be taken in ill by her. So in the end, he decided to keep quiet and continue eating.
The day passed so very slowly. Evening came, and turned into night, and while everyone was eating – he would not say feasting – mostly some of the kids came over to ask him rather rude questions from time to time. He answered, and try to keep his manners in check, but he still could not help but wonder, why Lash had even wanted him to come there.
However, if he had thought his way there had been miserable, he had not considered how his way back would feel. By now it was dark, and even colder than before, and as such his joints were even more painful than usual. He was leaning fairly heavily onto his cane, as he made his way back to Basilisk Gate.
“You know that you did not need to come along now, right?” he grumbled, looking over to Lash.
The cold winter air was burning in his throat and nostrils now.
“I do, but it seems only proper, Enver,” she replied.
“You are aware that I do have two people accompanying me,” he said, looking over to the two Fists. “I mean, they are here to make sure I do not run away…” He could not help but mutter those words sarcastically, as currently he was in no condition to run in either way. “But I am going to assume that they will make sure I will not get stabbed.”
Antonia sighed. “We were instructed to make sure, you are being kept alive, yes. If ever you shall be executed it will be by proper procedure, not by vigilante justice.”
“Touching…”
“I am quite aware,” Lash said. “But I do want to make sure you get home in a good state – rather than just an alive state.”
“Define good,” he muttered, given he was feeling pretty darn miserable – and the gate was only slowly coming into view.
“Making sure that you have a nice warm tea at the very least,” she replied.
“Of course,” he muttered. He hesitated for a long moment, before once more steering the conversation back to the topic from about three hours ago. “You should know that I meant what I said. I can pay you more.”
“And I meant what I said: I don’t want it.”
“But if not for you, then at the very least for your family,” he replied.
She grunted. “I understand what you are trying to say. Truthfully, I do, saer. But I would not be right.”
“Why not? I have a lot of that – a lot of money. And there is not a lot of it to spend it on these days, is there.”
“And it still would not be right, saer,” she said. She sighed, before hesitating a good long moment. They walked quite a few steps, before she spoke again. “Enver. I understand that in some way or form you think you can make right by doing that. But I am truthfully trying to be… I am trying to be a friend. And it is hard enough as it is. But I could not take more money, than it would be properly due for the work I do.”
He did not know what to reply to that. Because if he was honest with himself, he did not know a whole lot about this kind of matter. He did not know a whole lot about being a friend – or having one. He just thought that a friend should help a friend, and it seemed right now the easiest way to do that was money. Or was that something wrong with his perception again?
He was not sure. Because he did not know about these things. He never had known.
“Your twin sister, what is she working as?” he asked after a bit.
“She is a bouncer. At one of the pubs. Does some street fighting too, from time to time.”
That sounded way more like a thing one would expect from a half-orc. Though he kept that comment to himself. “What if I hired her, too.”
“That will do you no good, saer. She ain’t… I mean, she is no good cooking, or cleaning much. She is good with kids, but… I mean, you don’t have any, do you?”
“I don’t. But I am rather certain, that…” He sighed. “There would be something to be found.”
“Something?”
“I had originally fifteen people working in the house, as you well know. There is a garden, that had not been tended to in quite some while. And now that I am working for our dear Duke, there might also be some work with metal, that I might use some help on. I am sure, there will be something.”
Lash sighed, though she did not instantly answer. She walked a bit ahead of him now, her steps giving a somewhat creaking sound on the muddy ground that was now properly frozen. In the end she turned her head to him. “You know we are not the only ones, right?”
“What?”
“The only ones being poor, I mean. Especially right now. A lot of those folks, who came here as refugees are still living in mud huts and tents.”
He admittedly paused for a moment at this. There had been two kinds of refugees, as he was very well aware. Those tieflings that had come over from Elturel after being exiled from that city, and the people who had fled the Absolute army in the Chionthar valley. Both had been part of his plan back in the day.
Yet, somehow he had assumed that the tieflings mostly might have found a way to stay in the city – and that everyone else had returned home. After all, the Absolute army was no more, was it?
He stopped in his step. Half to think, and half to catch a breath.
There I was again. That strange feeling in his chest, as his heart was hammering against his chest, but his stomach felt as if it was being twinged at. “Are there… Are there really still so many refugees?”
“A lot, saer,” she replied. “Quite a lot. They say about five hundred people living in the outer city slums still.”
And at least part of it was his fault, wasn’t it?
What was that strange feeling inside of him?
His breath was slow, and the cold still burning in his throat. “I…” He considered his words. He had not lied about one thing: Somehow… Some part of him. Some part of him wanted to be forgiven. At least by some. He did not want to be remembered solely as the villain.
Maybe it would have been different, had his plan succeeded. But it hadn’t. And now?
“What… What do you reckon I could do about that?” he asked.
She had walked on, as he had stopped, and now was a good eight yards in front of him. She turned to him and looked, her forehead in a frown. “What?”
“What do you think I could do… About the refugees, I mean. And… And those things.”
She stared for a moment, but then gave a sigh. “I doubt the city council will listen to you. So… I guess… I mean. I guess, mainly…” Another sigh condensed into a dense cloud. “Money would help those people. It would be a start at the very least.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess… Then that’s where I… Where I start.”
For a long moment she seemed to consider that, but then she nodded. “Yes, I guess that would be a start.”
He continued walking, already dreading the good mile he would have to walk to make it home. “I still would like to hire your sister,” he said.
She was silent for a bit, as she too continued to walk. “I… I guess I will talk to her.”