EL Official BK5 Chapter 10 - Offers I Shouldn't Have Accepted. (Patreon)

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The soft hiss of rain filled the streets, and I hurried home with quickened steps. My heels clattered on the damp slate pathways and I almost slipped rounding a corner with too much haste. I corrected myself, of course, although not without cost. Something caught my coat, and it tore. Leaving a noticeable gash in the fabric. That was unfortunate.

I arrived home out of breath and with water dripping from my hair, but the crash of ceramic on wood paralyzed me before I could open the door. Inside the commotion was escalating. My mother was shouting and my heart leapt into my throat. Was she being attacked?

Trembling with every heartbeat I clenched my jaw and reached for the door handle. I was hardly taller than it, but delusional enough to believe I could make a difference in a fight. On the internal count of three, I ripped open the door to enter into the chaos. 

My mother was attacking my father. Cursing and spitting, she had thrown a variety of items at him. Pots, plates, cutlery, anything immediately within her grasp was a projectile and I ducked aside as a mug hurtled toward me. This wasn’t unusual, yet Emmerich waited in a sedate manner. Plainly unfazed, he stood with his arms folded moving aside with casual grace to avoid being hit as he waited for her tantrum to pass.

“Fight all you want. There’s no choice,” he told her, indifferent. 

“I won’t go!” she hissed back.

“You will.”

“Why? So I can be made a mockery of?”

“You are my wife. Part of your duty includes attending formal events.”

“I’ve done more than enough as your ‘wife’.”

“Be silent,” Emmerich ordered sternly, “You will attend, and you will behave, or I will make you.”

With Adelaide unable to answer, their argument ended there, and it was only then that her eyes dropped past Emmerich to me. Her expression was neutral, entirely devoid just as it had been throughout, but when she spoke as the command loosened I dreaded the words. “It’s home,” she announced.

I fidgeted uncomfortably. I’ve never known what I’m supposed to do when my parents fight, nor how to respond when she talked like that of me. 

My father turned to follow her gaze, and his expression faltered, “How long have you been there, Markos?”

“…Not long…” I murmured.

He watched me a long moment before at last giving a small sigh, “I hope so. Come, there’s something we need to discuss. Adelaide, prepare dinner… and mend the boy's coat.” 

She launched at him as he spoke the commands. Clawing and scratching at him with feral determination. She drew blood, and he ended her assault with a short backhand that knocked her to the floor. It wasn’t excessive, nor did he make any further move to strike her. But the sound the back of his hand made when it connected with her face made me flinch.

Adelaide set her jaw, she spat at his shoes before wiping the blood from her chin, “You hit like a child.”

“I wasn’t trying to harm you. Are you alright?” Emmerich sighed.

“Va te faire foutre!” (go fuck yourself!) she hissed back.

He disengaged, turning to me, “Come, we’ll go elsewhere for a time. There’s no need to agitate your mother further.”

This is why they can’t share a bedroom. They can hardly share a living area.

***

Emmerich and I left into the rain. He waved his hand, generating a small barrier to deflect it, and we walked in silence for some time. He towered over me when I was young, but he wasn’t all that tall. His hair was long, woven into soft braids with loose strands too short for capture framing his face. In truth, we don’t look all that alike. 

We have the same jaw and nose, but little else in common. His eyes are deep purple and his hair is relatively straight, while mine are lilac and my hair wavy, like my mothers. 

“I’ve heard you’re doing well in training,” he began gently at last. 

“…I suppose…” I murmured.

“You beat Joachim’s and Isidore’s sons.”

I didn’t know who that was, so I said nothing, and he continued. 

“You can’t show them up so easily…”

“I wasn’t trying to…”

“I know, but you must refrain… this is a dangerous place, you don’t want to make enemies.”

A small spark of frustration set in my chest, and I took a breath in, “Why can’t they be better? Why do I have to be the one to hold back?” I demanded. 

“Because that’s not the way, it’s better to blend in… avoid fights where you can…” 

“But why? 

“Because that’s what I’m telling you to do, Markos,” he warned, and I seethed. 

“Everyone says you’re a coward..-” I regretted the words before I had finished voicing them.

“Some things are more important than pride,” he answered in a level tone.

There was nothing I could say. Emmerich wasn’t a man who could stand up for himself, and that would never change. 

“Markos, you must show restraint. Promise me you’ll behave in training from now on? Allow the others a chance?” he insisted.

“…Yes Papa…” I murmured, kicking a small pebble down the road as if it would help.

“There’s one more thing… After the upcoming Gala, I will be returning to Europe with Ælferic, so it will be up to you to take care of your mother. Do you think you can handle that?” 

He placed a hand on my head, and I stopped, confused, “Why…?” I asked with poorly masked disgust, “Europe is full of humans now…” 

“Yes, but, Lord Ælferic has sensed an opportunity and he will have me lead his mercenaries. It will be a short campaign,” he promised.

***

Of course, Fae affairs are never timely. Whether one is coming or going for months or years it’s difficult to keep track, and so it was that time passed. I grew some, the routine set and seasons changed. I trained each day. Fulfilling my father’s request to allow others to win meant I sustained more injuries, and in turn I grew resentful. 

Mathéo thought himself invincible and it took everything in me not to smack him into the dirt. Baltzar, however, became annoying in another way. He still hadn’t spoken to me, but had a bad habit of lingering. When we were to spar in pairs he sought me out, and with little other choice I trained with him. 

He was lanky and slow. Matching his pace was painful emotionally and, despite promising my father, I couldn’t help myself. When I grew fed up I held back less. In three separate movements I smacked him with the back of my elbow, disarmed, and threw him to the ground. Leaving him bruised and bleeding.

“I don’t know why you bother. Some people aren't meant for fighting,” I told him plainly.

He didn’t answer, but as I watched his fingertips glowed with energy, and he mended the split in his lip. It caught me off guard, and intrigue took hold. 

“How did you do that?” 

Again the boy ignored me and my temper rose, “Answer me! You train with me every day and you don’t say anything!”

My shouting was drawing attention and Baltzar stared back with wide eyes. Putting his hands up, he mumbled something in a language I didn’t know. It was a pleading insistence that dissolved into the common tongue, “…I don’t know- I don’t know-”

“You don’t know what? How are you healing yourself!?” I snapped back. 

“Bellerose,” Wenzeslaus interrupted before I could continue, “Switch partners. Train with Wilhelm.”

I delayed, I wanted to demand Baltzar answer me. All these nobles treated me like I wasn’t one of them, as if my family weren’t nobles. Like I couldn’t beat all of them blindfolded- I exhaled sharply. “Fine,” I muttered to myself. 

Baltzar flinched when I moved past him to face Wilhelm, and I spent the remainder of the day slashing at Ælferic’s second cousin.  

*** 

Sparring ended when the sun touched the castle wall and the shadow stretched across the training field. Meals in the inner castle are consistent, set for the same time of day each day. But I didn’t live in the inner castle. I wasn’t permitted to go with them and it only added to the bitterness.

They went to the dinning hall, and I left through the streets toward the gates. Without my father present, life was more difficult… meals were intermittent and my clothes broke at the seams as I grew. Under my father’s order, my mother was expected to maintain the household. Cooking, cleaning, sewing and grocery shopping. 

If she did not, which was often the case, he would simply compel it. Without him, there were no meals when I returned home, and no one to mend my torn clothes. I wasn’t strong enough to command her, nor did I truly want to. Adelaide already despised me, and I didn’t want to make it worse. Instead, I stole what I could from the market streets, hiding a loaf of bread and some fruits in my coat folded over in my arms. I thought I had gotten away with it until a big hand grabbed my arm.

“Markos,” it was Hasan who spoke, “You should know better than to steal,” he mused as my cheeks turned flush with pure panic.

“I-I,” I floundered.

“Didn’t I say that if you ever needed help you could come to me?” he asked, entertained as he dropped a few silver coins into my hand, “Take what you have back, and pay for it.” 

The man waited with ethereal patience as I shamefully walked back to the stall I’d taken the food from. I mumbled an excuse, saying I’d forgotten to pay earlier before returning to Hasan. He smiled as I approached, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Come, let me walk you home.” 

I didn’t answer as my stomach churned, simultaneous hunger and guilt made me nauseous. I hadn’t expected to get caught, let alone be forced to admit theft.

“You know, if you wanted to attend meals with the other noble children, I’m sure I could arrange it,” the man continued casually.

“..How?” I mumbled.

“Well, if you lived in the inner castle, you would be expected to attend the meals.”

“I don’t live in the inner castle,” I grumbled frustrated.

“But you could. There are villas in the west wing your family could move into. I’m certain your father would be impressed to return to a new home.” 

“...How?” I repeated with mild apprehension.

“Well, they’re only available to nobles, families who have favor with Ælferic’s family or those who work daily in the castle. Perhaps I could pull some strings to arrange something for you?”

“Could you really do that..?” I asked shyly.

“Of course, but you’ll owe me a favor for it.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Oh, nothing really. I’m sure I’ll think of something trivial for you to do later on,” he shrugged with nonchalant indifference. 

I don’t remember agreeing, but I suppose he took my non-answer as a confirmation. If I had been wiser, or less timid, perhaps I would have understood the magnitude of mistake I was making. 

Hasan brought me to the entryway of my building and I thanked him politely. It was almost uncomfortable to have had him escort me the entire way. Still, his hand fell from my shoulder and he moved to leave, only pausing briefly to add: “Oh, and you should know, Oskar doesn’t speak the common tongue, that’s why he doesn’t talk to you.” 

There was a hint of amusement as he said it, as if he was saying the punchline to some joke I didn’t get. Was he lying? Or did he simply find it entertaining knowing I had only just learned enough English to pass, and now I would have to learn German as well…

I pushed the uncertainty aside as I walked in the front door. I moved quietly, Adelaide was upstairs in her room, and I knew I was not to make any sound. She didn’t like it when I disturbed her. 

Instead, I shrugged off my sword and set my bow down with painstaking quiet. The house was untidy with dishes left piled on the stove beside something smoldering in a pot. Fresh shards of broken glass sprinkled the floor. They coated the covering of my father’s bed, but whatever Adelaide had thrown at the wall above it had at least dried.

I stared dumbfounded, unsure of what to do, until the pot on the stove spat. The lid rattled and hot liquid splattered out, splashing my arm. It sizzled where it hit and when it began to boil over again, I hurried to clamp the top. Using a hand towel I slammed the lid back down and turned off the stove.

A moment more passed before I gingerly let go. Cracking it open fractionally I peered in to see whatever she had been cooking was beyond saving. It smelt like salted charcoal and was plainly inedible. I supposed that meant it would have been another evening without a meal and I was glad to have taken what I did, even if it was embarrassing.

With the immediate threat of superheated liquid passing, the burn on my arm began to sting. I’d forgotten about it, until the muscle relaxed, and I winced as the pain traveled upward all at once. My father kept herbs in the upper cupboards, and I dragged a chair over to stand on to reach them. This wasn’t the first burn I’d had, and I knew how to make a soothing paste.

After that, I began to clean up. Taking the dishes to the sink I washed what I could, then swept up the broken shards off the floor before tiptoeing upstairs. I lingered outside her door with a bowl of fruit for her, too afraid to knock, but also unable to leave without feeding her. 

Taking in a deep breath, I gathered myself and my knuckles lightly touched the wood, producing the faintest of sounds. A long moment passed as I waited before the door creaked open and my mother glared down through the gap. 

“What,” she demanded in monotone. 

“...I turned off the stove… and brought you some food from the markets…” I answered softly, daring not even to make eye contact.

“Has your father returned?” she asked, ignoring everything I had said.

“ …No…” 

“Good.” She closed the door again, and I released the breath I’d been holding. It could have gone worse, I supposed. 

I left the bowl on the floor in the hall for her, then returned down stairs. I ate alone. With my father away, we hadn't had any meat for weeks and the bread on its own made me unwell. We’re not made to eat only bread and fruit. When I decided I couldn’t stomach any more of the powdery roll, I began preparations to sleep.

It was somewhat of a process. Firstly, I had to make sure there was nothing sharp left around the house. There was a small pile of knives under my mattress on the wall side and I added my sword to the collection. They were safer behind me. However, looking over at the sink I decided I also couldn’t leave the bit pot there. I couldn’t leave anything she might use… 

Next I put up the barrier. It was a length of twine with spoons tied into it that would jangle at the slightest disturbance, and it was mildly safer to use than a spell. My mother could counter any barrier I put in place, but taking down the spoon-line would always make noise.

When I at last went to lay down, I first checked the sheets for anything unpleasant, before settling in with my back against the wall. It was hard to sleep, or rather, I was afraid to sleep. I laid for hours each night, watching the darkness of the stairs. My mother often only comes downstairs at night. She lurks at the bottom of the steps, sometimes I see the edges of her dress, or the glint of her eyes… That was fine, as long as she didn’t have anything in her hands I was safe.

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