Orphan at the Edge of the World 27 OEW 26

Orison said, "Please don't make me regret the momentary laps of sanity that spurred me to claim you as such."

Taking more pity on his bed than Nub, Orison fired off a couple of Degree Shifts to knock the dust off the vampire and his sheets.

Nub chuckled and said, "Does this cleaning come with free foot massage?"

Orison smiled angelically and said, "Of course. My foot is always at your disposal to massage your face or backside with as much force as I can manage."

Nub winked and said, "It's deep tissue or nothing for vampires. Alright, I can see I'm testing your little reserve of patience so let me get to the point. My reasons are twofold. They were three but you've handled that last one on your own well enough.

"Might as well start with the end. That merchant was not supposed to give you trouble but he received some last minute instructions from someone else to do so... This makes a mess of everything... Don't worry. A patrician family who is a friend of the silence wanted some help pulling strings to get the embassy position after catching wind of it's impending approval through a Progressive spy. That merchant was supposed to make a good first impression for them but a second supporter of the merchant asked him to defame the consulate while he was at it.

"I don't know what that was about and I doubt either of us really care as that reason is crushed or soon to be. The one who received your favor said to tell you that they will make amends for any inconveniences that you've suffered. They probably were going to rely on their share of percentage of this trip to make a light work of restitution, alas. Needless to say, since you handled the problem on your end, the restitution will be helping suppress the political fallout. To make things simple, they expressed the ability to shift your land claim to a more strategic placement. Are you okay with that?"

Orison said, "Easily defended and away from potential future war zones would be best."

Nub nodded. "I'll pass it along... Firstly, I was already running an errand when I received a mid-mission distress. I was sorely mistaken on my time leeway. Originally, I was going to contact you some time after you made it back to New Fvaris but since I was frying and you were closer than my destination, I took a gamble you'd have a way to get me fed. I hate random feedings. They are usually the ones that end up making me feel bad or causing me problems."

Orison said, "I'm hoping that instances that I would need to encounter to get your emergency rations will no longer appear. And as it stands, I only have one bottle left in the old cellar, so to speak. Have a care with future gambles please."

Chuckling, Nub nodded and said, "Noted... As for the final line of business, Pact is bringing vampires to the negotiating table. Congratulations on giving them something less warlike to focus on. Now a council of undead might re-establish. That would not be a bad thing for mortals. Apart, they are like warlords fighting over territory but together they are a vicious political meat grinder, keeping each other's numbers down.

"Probably thinking 'Why do I care?'. Grand sire will be coming to Obsidian, if she's not already here. That means, your brother might be popping in for a visit. Although, not surprised by your insight into her future plans, she is pleased and touched by your extravagant considerations for her and her family. She is even bringing up the idea of support for 'Trash Farms' as a common practice to other elders as a show of good faith for the new cheaper vital potion.

"Here is a signed scroll from her showing her agreement to confidentiality and to only use it for said 'Trash Farms' and recreational use once you give the recipe to your brother. She would give you her word in person but that may not be possible."

Orison said, "No, this is good. Contracts are nice and formal. Also, I and her other side don't get along that well.

Nub stroked his goatee, "So you're one of those sensitive types that can hear it. It's one of the reasons the elders rely on her to negotiate with ghosts... One more piece of order information I probably shouldn't share with you since you're just a friend of the silence but I think I'll be forgiven... Another was found who can hear the silence so don't stage another sloppy ritual for show. I have it on good authority that you'll likely receive an answer and non-vampire members of The Order have mixed feelings about you right now."

Confused, Orison asked, "Why? I've pretty much acceded to every request The Order's asked of me."

Nub sat up and squeezed Orison's shoulder then said, "I'll give you the general. I can't say more than that... The vampire members are admirers and that makes the werewolf members not so endeared. You're close to the present and future leaders of the Northland chapter as well as connected to the Obsidian chapter and the whole order in ways I can't say. The Centerland chapter is wary of you, scared you might even say, and scared assassins are unpredictable. If you want to know more about the reason that may be, look into your own past. I don't traffic with untrustworthy rumors, especially when they are ones I should have never heard in the first place."

Orison said, "If it's just rumors that concern me, I'd still like to hear them."

Nub sighed and said, "I would if I could but I can't, not even under Grand sire's compulsion."

Frustrated, Orison said, "Oh, those kind. Yeah, I know those kind."

Nub suddenly perked up and said as he melted into the shadows, "Someone's coming."

A soft knock on Orison's window slats was accompanied by a husky feminine voice that said, "Heard you were the healer around here, as strange as that sounds."

Orison sighed and said at the closed window, "When there's need for it. What's your need?"

The woman said, "Idiot broke a pocket knife off in my rib. Details I'd be happy to share while you're healing me."

Orison said, "If you were good enough to walk here, you're good enough to go to the sick room. I'll meet you there in less time than it would take to drag a person with a knife wound through a window."

He was answered with shuffling feet getting fainter.

Before heading out the door and calling for Gan, Orison said to the air in his room, "Duty calls. Leave a note in my nightstand if there's anything else I need to know, like if there's word on that enchanter's workbench."

In less than a minute, Orison was walking through the sickroom doors while a soldier he had yet to meet but was apparently on duty, flashed him a sharp fist to heart salute.

Looking towards a woman who could only be classified as 'handsome' or less politely as manish, Orison said, "I need you to unwrap your chest bindings. They're soaked with blood and who knows what else."

While complying, the strong looking woman with short, mousy hair and golden eyes said, "What about your shadow there? Does he have to be a part of this too? I'm not in to giving free peepshows."

Scrubbing his hands clean, Orison said, "You're that mage from earlier today, right? I just killed your previous employer. Pardon the offense for a little caution but I insist."

Wincing in pain as she finished unbinding her breasts, the woman said, "Well, at least have him turn his head away."

Orison said, "Gan, prep your bow and if she tries to make a move on me while I heal her, put an arrow through an eye socket... Clear on my stance now, Ms. Mercenary?"

Wryly, the woman said, "Crystal."

After cleaning the wound and latching on to the edges of the broken blade with pincers, Orison said, "It's nicked your heart and judging by the silver of the blade, pulling it out unsteadily could lead to your death if I'm not careful so listen closely. I don't care what you are but I'm going to have my guard prep his silver arrow and same applies. I will heal you but he'll put that arrow in your eye if you twitch more than expected. Are we clear?"

Not having much choice with a piece of metal poking at her heart and a steady arrow of silver pointed at her from thirty paces, she nodded tensely, swallowing a dry mouthful of nothing. With one hand pressed on to the back of her closest one, Orison yanked the sliver out then dropped the pincers and slapped an emergency heal in one fluid motion. Aside from an unsuccessfully suppressed whimper, she didn't even blink her eyes.

While Orison cleaned the wound a second time and checked for stray material, the woman asked, "You don't care?"

Orison, intent on his task, said, "As long as you don't try to do anything to me or mine, why would I? By the way your hand is creeping, maybe you think you could scratch me or something? Don't bother. it won't accomplish anything but to annoy me."

The woman sighed and said, "Fine. My word on good behavior... No complaint but could you maybe dig at my innards a little more gently?"

Orison chuckled. "Splinters of nicked rib bone and metal shavings don't just draw themselves to my hand. You probably don't mind the one much but I'm certain the other is a bit problematic for you. If it helps distract, you could tell me whatever you feel like sharing about how that knife got in you to begin with."

As Orison finished up his digging and applied a little more healing to seal her wound, she said, "Just a disagreement on matters that got blown out of proportion. Depending on how bowlegged he's walking tomorrow after he gets that knife handle out and sincere his apology is, I just might forgive him... So what do I owe you?"

Orison looked up from where he was washing his hands, paying a little extra attention to scrubbing his enchanted ring clean, and said, "Anything you can tell me about that merchant and any other ugly surprises that might be headed our way would, as mom would say, put you in the black."

Most of the information she could share was mostly clarifications on what Nub had told him earlier but there were a few new bits he hadn't expected. By inference, he figured that the 'old wolves' behind the larger mercenary groups were planning on finding some new recruits on Obsidian to balance out attention that other supernatural groups were paying to the place. A futile endeavor in Orison's mind. This place had been and always would belong to the ghosts.

On her way out the door, she stopped to say, "Shame you're an aristocrat and probably college bound, Centerland merc guild masters would fight to the death over a prize like you."

Orison said, "That sounds too uncomfortably like I'm a bounty."

In a near whisper she replied, "Keep hanging with bloodsuckers and you might become one, and I mean that both ways. It's hard to find a sawbones that doesn't flinch at those who are different so I won't give you grief about it. Besides, the northern groups might take fang pulling as a holy prerogative but I'm not that bored."

Seeing the patient walking out, alive and well, the soldier on duty walked back into the sickroom. As Orison made his way back to the consulate, the woman supported an awkwardly walking man his direction.

Apologetically, she said, "I think it's stuck in there and even though he said he'd rather die, he really will if it doesn't come out and get some good herbs."

Storm clouds formed in his heart as Orison said, "This, I'm charging for."

Stopping at the door, Orison said to a smiling Gan, "Stay outside and wait for me."

Suddenly sad, Gan protested, "They could still be dangerous."

Orison closed the door in Gan's face and said, "No free peepshows."

The next day, with missives and requested material lists in hand, Orison was surprisingly glad to be heading back to Fvaris. The caravan of goods with soldiers and extra company allowed him to travel more free of worries as well.

Morrel asked in a low voice, "Why is Gan so sulky for?

Orison sighed and said, "I didn't let him watch a patient expel a foreign object out of a sensitive place."

Hearing Orison speak on the subject, Gan complained, "Those kind of stories gets men free drinks. Better than hero stories from a bard, I'm telling you."

Despite himself, Orison chuckled and said, "I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to get free drink material as long as your hanging around... I'll tell you one thing. I don't think I'll ever see a man as happy as he was to be seen by a ten year old healer. At least not ones I'd be willing to help."

Morrel raised a salt and pepper eyebrow and said, "Why is that, exactly? I'd think anyone should be happy to have a healer when they need one."

Orison winked at Morrel then made a fist and held it out to Gan as he said, "Come on, big guy. Fist bump and forget it. I'll find some way to make it up to you."

Gan sighed and bumped his large fist into Orison's tennis ball one, accepting the peace offering.

"I see," Morrel said.

For the first time that Orison could remember, Rithus let out a shuddering hiss that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

As the caravan finished dumping it wares off and loading return goods, Orison noticed that Morrel wasn't loading back up and said, "Are you staying? I thought mom could really use your help about now."

Morrel snorted and said, "Your mother isn't as clueless about organizational matters as you think, Orison. Not only that, but she is your superior in learning what I have to teach."

There were many things Orison wanted to retort about but his ego could handle Droya getting a compliment at his expense.

Orison sighed and put up his hands in surrender. "Alright hovering parent, Rithus looks bored half the time here anyway."

Morrel chuckled darkly and said, "Who said I'm here for the little tadpole. Someone has been getting far too undisciplined in his training. Or are you trying to tell me that you are finished and desire to learn no longer?"

Chastised and unwilling to upset Morrel by pointing out the weaknesses in the old wood elf's cover, Orison and company were escorted back to the Fvaris compound in silence. Soon enough, the boy realized that whether the story was true or not, Morrel was set to treat his words as gospel. From wake up until bedtime every free moment was brushing back up on basics and discovering new facets of the training he had not been introduced to before. Even the time he spent in the Ocean turned into a set of exercises as time and circumstances permitted.

When Orison was summoned to speak before the council of five the day before he'd be taking the second Revivalist clan for the final set of sea farming courses, he did so with mournful apologies to Morrel. As soon as he was outside and absolutely certain he was far enough away, he let out a wet eyed smile of joy. The normal feeling of fear and anxiety when facing the titular rulers of New Fvaris was nowhere to be felt and even the five themselves felt a little baffled at how heartfelt the look of grateful happiness on Orison's face was.

Orison said, "I apologize for my current appearance Clan Elder Fvaris and assembled venerables. I was in the middle of training and these pants are my uniform for such."

Revivalist's prime speaker responded, "If we were not used to your proud displays of corpse pallid flesh, child, we would have dug our eyes out long ago. Fortunately, our ancestor granted magics have inured us to such grotesque sights."

Too happy to be released even temporarily from his torture, Orison replied cheerfully, " I appreciate your generosity and kind words venerable. The heat of midsummer here is nearly more than a northern reared person can bear."

The second Revivalist elder chimed in, "One of the many reasons we can tolerate our northeastern neighbor. Their reticence to overstay their welcome is quite refreshing."

Elder Fvaris raised her perfectly manicured and terrifyingly long nails in a motion to dissuade further bickering and said in a melodious voice, "You have been called to speak on matters dire and important, Young Cantrip. Let us see if your improved spirits will endure them."

Chapter end