Triple Strength

315. News: Wiremu

Modrica and I have come here every year for the last five years. It is seven years since we left Yelets. Težka stayed at the lake this time. He knows not to hunt the gorillas.

Tāoke is nearby. The first year we came, I purchased some chooks and a rooster to take back to the lake for him. We both enjoyed the eggs, but the chickens didn’t survive the year with all the predators around. I am still convinced Težka was guilty of some of that. Now, I have an arrangement with a farmer, and we let Tāoke feast when we come here.

Freebourne is bursting at the seams for the Harvest Festival. I have just sold my pelts and am settling at the bar for the evening. There is a visiting Bard scheduled to entertain us later this evening. I get an ale and let my Hearing Aid pick up on the gossip. The war has occupied most of the gossip for the last few years.

The war seems to have settled down. Nobody here knows if a treaty has been signed, but there doesn’t seem to have been a decisive winner as usual.

The tavern is full, but the noise dims as a figure darkens the door. Modrica has that effect. She still only has one arm, although her Skill is getting there. She refuses to have a healer look at it. Modrica taps the shoulder of the guy next to me, and space is made for her. The noise picks up again, and now the gossip is about me and the massive one-armed Orc I am always with.

The bartender slid an ale in front of Modrica, and she grunted her thanks and took a long drink. She looks at me in a questioning way.

“She purchased something large for me two months ago,” I said. This is the primary way I know Tabitha is still alive, as she is the only one with access to my coins. My coin balance at the treasury steadily rises, and then a considerable hunk is withdrawn. Then it rises again a bit faster and a bit higher. I probably own a fair amount of the Empire by now. The bounty payouts on Slave Taskmasters have become few and far between, although the contract is still active. Therefore, coin comes in and only goes out when Tabitha buys me something. I have no idea what I would do with all that coin.

I notice some blood on Modrica’s glove. “Locals causing trouble?” I asked.

Modrica shook her head. In our annual visit, Modrica checks in with Tabitha’s criminal empire here in the Free Republic. Now and then, she cracks a few heads. I have occasionally assassinated a troublemaker. The fear keeps most people in line now.

While we wait for the bard, I pull out the year's mail I picked up and flick through it. There is a letter from Janez of the Hazadrati in Kirghiz. I skim it. Nothing major. The smuggling has hugely profited from the war. He included an accounting for the coin, which I ignored.

Then I saw the letter from Kelda. I sent her a letter the second year we were back to let her know how she could contact me. That was a surprisingly difficult letter to write. I knew she would be embroiled in the local politics when she returned to Hrothgar. She was a decorated heroine and heir to the Dukedom, but potentially permanently maimed. Was she healed? How was Liten?

I heard nothing the following year. Did she not get the letter? There was a war on. Do I write again? I left it that year but sent another letter last year. Now I have a reply. I am very nervous.

Modrica must have sensed something and looked over. She saw the letter and grunted. She is a solid support to me. I have appreciated her silent immovability more and more. I can see why Tabitha appreciates her. I hope Ruku is looking after Tabitha.

I rip the letter open. It was dated six months ago. She apologised for not replying sooner. She actually received both letters at the same time on her recent return to Hrothgar, after she got back from a confidential military exercise. What the hell is she doing working for the military? She resigned after her five compulsory years. It had to be related to the war. However, there is no more information in the letter about that two-to-four-year ‘exercise.’

The healers only managed to restore partial sight to one eye, but “I have learned some compensatory skills.” That has me very interested. Maybe I need to plan a trip to Hrothgar.

“Liten is well and is the primary reason for my continued good health.” That means she was in danger and Liten saved the day. Good on the bird. Wyvern. Bird/Wyvern.

Then my heart sank. “My father has arranged a political marriage for me to Marcus, Duchess Irena’s youngest son. You might remember meeting him in Waiouru although he does not remember meeting you.”

I don’t remember meeting him. Shit. I knew this might happen. Probably would happen. It doesn’t stop it hurting. I can imagine the political deals, including support for Irena as the next Queen.

“Marcus is an Administrator and will help run the duchy, but his true love is his art, and he is a very talented painter and sculptor. He is a gentle soul, so the match is better than most.”

Crafty Irena.

“Marcus has been here in Hrothgar for the last six months, and I have got to know him quite well. Very little escapes my Sight these days. The wedding will be in Waiouru in the Spring, and then we will take up permanent residence here in Hrothgar.

“I have told Marcus about you and how much you mean to me. He has also suffered heartbreak and loss and wants me to be firm in stating that you will always be welcome here. Always.

“He made that clear before I told him who you really are. The big W.H. almost has a cult following here in Kirghiz. You are a huge hero, raised to almost mythical status. I had to assure Marcus you are just an ordinary man. A country bumkin even. I don’t think he believed me, and I don’t think he will until he meets you.

“Marcus insisted on painting me and Liten for you. It is a good painting. He does tend to draw me in a much too flattering way, but for this, I said you would want the truth and the scars. I usually wear a veil, but this painting is for the person from whom I never have to hide.

Forever and always

Your Kelda.”

Shit, I am crying. In a bar full of people, too. I pull out the painting. It is very life-like. It is only the head and shoulders with Liten perched on the left shoulder. I study the face carefully. It is older. Her hair is clipped back from her face, and it is longer. I think she has added some scars to her collection. One eye has an obvious glass eyeball, and the other looks not quite right. I wonder how accurate this is. Probably as accurate as he could make it. Liten looks the same.

I am happy for her. Really happy. I wipe the tears away again before they damage the painting. I carefully fold the letter and painting and put them in the inside pocket of my jacket. I will plan a trip to Hrothgar in a couple of years.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage the amazing Kōrero Paki, fresh from the empire with a tale so amazing you won’t believe it.”

A tall, thin man in bright robes strode onto the stage as the applause broke out.

“Thank you, thank you. It is fantastic to be back. This tale may sound like fantasy, but I swear everything I tell you is the honest truth. Refill your drinks now folks, and sit back and prepare to be amazed. This is a tale of a Villainess turned Heroine. The Black Butcher, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, the very same Black Butcher of Jern who murdered thousands and nearly levelled the city is now known as the Breaker of Chains! Yes, the Blackhearted murderess has turned against the Empire and broken the chains of thousands of slaves. Hundreds of thousands set free. Refill your drinks, ladies and gentlemen and get ready for a story of darkness and light, of bondage and freedom, of Radiant Sanctuaries torn asunder and swept clean in righteous floods.” then he lowered his voice. “The Black Butcher has become the Breaker of Chains, and every amazing word I am about to tell you is true.”