Yule
Old Man Boros' Keep
The night passed quickly as they found peaceful sleep at Boros' keep. The rooms were a bit dusty, but some quick cleaning made them habitable. Boros had been telling the truth; there was a bedroom for each of them to choose from. Baz had volunteered to take the downstairs bedroom, the one by the stairs leading up and right next to Boros' room. The rest of them had split up and taken rooms on the second floor.
The beds were comfortable despite their obvious age. They were likely better than any cot or bench they would have been forced to sleep on in Groville. As soon as his head had hit the pillow, he had felt the exhaustion from the day catch up to him. Hours upon hours of travel followed by a frantic sprint through a building storm were tiring for someone more used to studying at a desk.
Yule had fallen asleep quickly as he tried to consider the strangeness of this place. He would have liked to dream of enchantments and runic possibilities. Unfortunately, he got the second-best scenario: a nice, dreamless sleep.
The rain had woken him up that morning, its steady beat against the tall windows of his room reminding him of the day prior's events.
After a quick morning routine, Yule made his way towards the kitchen. As he entered the entry hall, which was the only way to get to the kitchen, he saw an odd sight. Ina was sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring up at a painting.
Her gaze was transfixed on the large painting next to the kitchen door. With an eyebrow raised, he walked to the side of the dragonborn. Once again, he was reminded that despite her innocence, she was massive compared to most people. Her horns curved backward and slightly outward, reminiscent of bovine horns from a certain view. They certainly added even more to her sizable visage.
He looked at the painting before them quietly. There were several paintings in the entry hall of the keep, each of different sizes and of other things. The day before had been chaotic, thus they had been ignored till this morning by him. This one seemed to be a strange scene, especially to be painted.
A dragonborn woman was balanced precariously on a stool behind a slightly open door. She was looking at the painter, and by extension the viewer, and holding a finger over her lips as if trying to shush them. She had a silly grin that looked like it was a struggle to contain. Her other hand had a bucket filled with water, armed and ready to dump. The door she was perched behind was opening, and a metallic boot was able to be seen entering the room, but the rest of the person was hidden by the door.
It was a scene of someone pulling a prank. What an odd thing to paint.
On the frame, a dull plate told them the name of the piece. 'Yet Another of Aeda's Many Pranks'.
"She's one of mine." Yule nearly didn't catch Ina's whisper. He glanced at her and saw that her eyes had not left the painting, still.
"One of yours, Ina?"
"My clan."
"Oh?" He took a closer look and saw that there were a few similarities he had missed between Ina and this 'Aeda'. Both had red scales, which was a loose indication of origin and not something to be fully trusted when assuming what clan a dragonborn was from. Their eyes were the same yellowed-gold tint. It was the horns, however, that truly gave it away. Both had that backward and outward swoop. The dragonborn in the picture was smaller, by a good foot at least, than Ina, but those horns were unmistakable when there was a direct comparison.
"Do you know of her?" He asked, looking up at the old painting. With the paintings' visible age, he was doubtful that the subjects depicted were still among the living.
She shook her head. "No. Not many of the outcasts are spoken of. Really, not any." The somber yet familiar way she spoke told him that this was a sore subject for her.
"Ah, I see." A long silence filled the space between them. For several minutes, Yule attempted to find the right words to broach the topic. He was not the best person for this. Trying to get Selm out of her head, back in the caravan, had taken a lot of mental preparation and energy.
"How can you tell she is an outcast?" He asked, deciding that it may be best to learn more about the subject by skirting its edges.
"She is not a warrior." Indeed, the dragonborn lacked the defined large muscles many soldiers would have after years of training and fighting, but muscles alone did not designate someone as a warrior. Runner was scrawny, subjectively speaking, and yet she fought tooth and nail against a demon. Agility was equally important in a physical brawl.
He was about to ask how Ina could tell, but his eyes caught onto the flute hanging around the dragonborn's neck. An instrument? Was this dragonborn a minstrel? Or maybe a hobby? Perhaps that was why Ina labeled her as a non-warrior. Silly, for bards could be very effective on the battlefield. Music was an effective catalyst for bringing forth a certain type of magic. Selm's utterancy was primarily practiced by bards, after all.
"She looks so… happy." Once again, there was such a forlorn tone to her speech. He glanced away from the painting, eyeing her face. The dragonborn had a look he wasn't quite sure how to place. Envy? Fear? Hope? How could one look convey all those at once?
He glanced at her back. She was wearing a loose shirt with a wide neck, one without sleeves. He could barely see the edges of a few scars, cut into her scales. When they had left Lordidan, she had accidentally shown him and Selm when she had struggled with her clothing and horns. A mess of slashes and cuts. Wounds from blades. Neither Selm nor he had pressed the issue, as Ina had brushed it off. It was easy to tell that this painting and those scars were related, somehow.
"Ina, perhaps we could-"
"Oh, hello you two. Yule and… Ina, was it? A good morning to you both." He was interrupted by Boros opening the door from his room, shuffling out towards them.
"Good morning!" Whatever mood Ina was in was washed away as her attention shifted to the old man. She quickly stood up and helped the old man with the door to the kitchen, seeing that was the way he was going. "What is for breakfast? I am starving!"
"Eggs! I have a plentitude of them."
"I hope so, eggs here are so small. I need a lot to fill me up."
Yule shook his head as he followed the two. He had a feeling that there was more to Ina's story. She may seem like a simple and naive girl, but he had seen hints of deeper complexity. The sorrow and hope from just moments ago when faced with that painting. The clumsy nature of someone unfamiliar with normal things. The ferocity of a cornered beast in battle.
The last one was the strangest to him. Ina knew how to fight. Likely better than any of their group. The way she held her shield was with such ease, it was as if she had been born doing so. Most of their fight against the demon had been with Ina protecting the others, terrified for both them and her. From his position, he had witnessed a small flicker of something in her muscles, footwork, and eyes. It had happened when she lodged her old massive shield into the demon's tertiary maw.
Rage.
Repressed deeply and locked away, there was something inside Ina that was hiding. Lurking around behind her fear of fighting and getting hurt was a monster who would tear out the throat of anything that dared free it.
Well, that was all for another day.
"Boros, what is in the large room upstairs? I tried both doors for it, yet it was locked."
"Oh, that would be the library. I apologize, I had forgotten about it. Uhm… the key… yes, the key is right here." Boros set a key from a string he wore down on the table he was sitting next to. There were two keys on the string around Boros' neck. "You may go in there as you please. Uhm… I think I locked it up because it was so dusty… that's why."
"Yule, why is your face doing that?"
"Does he not often smile?"
"No. Not like that."
Yule had a big grin on his face, all other concerns forgotten. Enchantments of unknown potential and a library? The gods were truly favoring him today. With how long he was going to be trapped in this keep, he figured he would have time to research. A little bit of dust was nothing compared to the luxury of reading by a window on a rainy day.
It was as if he had just been handed a ruby the size of his head. If there was one thing that made Yule excited in this world besides magic, it was books. And if there were books about magic? By the infernum, he would cry tears of happiness.
Boros put his hand over the key. "Let us have breakfast first, then you can explore my books all you like."
Yule quickly composed himself and bowed his head gratefully. "Of course. Thank you, Boros. I am truly grateful you would let me peruse your collection.
"Think nothing of it. Knowledge is best when it's shared."
Not long after, everyone else had filtered into the kitchen. Runner had a serious case of bedhead, her hair wild and tangled in a braid that probably hadn't been undone since yesterday. Selm kept looking at the rogue's head with disdain. Yule would bet a gold piece that she was trying to find a good excuse to fix it for Runner. Baz quietly plodded in after the two women and headed towards the cooking pot. No one was armed or armored, which went to say just how at ease they felt about the keep. Well, Yule kept his staff with him. He didn't trust that much.
He heard Baz sigh as he started to remove certain eggs from a basket, leaving others in it. The cleric was muttering something about eggs and rocks.
"What's in that tow-" Runner yawned halfway through her sentence, stretching her upper half across the table. "Tower?"
"I don't remember, I am afraid. I have not had a reason to enter it in a while, I think?" Boros pondered, readjusting his glasses.
"Cool. Another place to explore, then."
"Indeed. The tower and the library should be interesting."
"Is that what that room was?"
"Eshah, I was tempted to open it last night, but Ina said no."
"Hey, Selm said, to not let you open locked doors if you do not have permission."
"She what!?"
"Cut it out. Don't forget, we got chores," Baz reminded them. Runner grumbled a healthy amount to herself, but let the matter go.
She must have been too tired to break and enter last night anyway, Yule reasoned to himself.
"Of course. We will take care of those first and foremost after breakfast. A little cleaning should not be too difficult." Selm's optimism was nice, but Yule wanted to go explore the library. Besides, did Selm not know how much effort it took to clean a whole keep?
He gave a huff of impatience but did not argue. The books were not going anywhere and they did owe Boros a great deal. They were borrowing his home and eating his food, after all.
Not long after, Baz served them all a healthy breakfast consisting of boiled eggs, fried eggs, and potato hash. Not a bad meal for the morning, if a bit heavy. Yule would have preferred the subtle yet filling taste of a leycal fruit, but those were really hard to find in Keldanis.
Crunch.
"Ow. One of my eggs was hard," Ina complained.
"Sorry. Missed one." After a moment, Baz looked back up at her. "Spit it out. Don't keep chewin."
"Oh, okay."
Alright, Ina may be a bit more naive than Yule had first thought.
"Wait, are you even removing the shells?" Selm asked, causing Runner to burst out laughing.
"She's not!" Cackling, Runner fell backwards out of her seat. Her legs were kicking in the air as she laughed.
"Ina…"
"But peeling them is a pain! They are so little and fragile."
"Here, let me help you." Selm scooted over to Ina's side and began peeling the rest of the boiled eggs for her. "Ah, another rock."
"How?" Baz looked incredulously at the basket he pulled the eggs from. "How!?"
"Perhaps only fried eggs from now on, to avoid this situation," Yule reasoned. Such a strange start to the morning.
A flash of light and the crack of thunder covered what Baz was about to say. They all glanced at the kitchen window, reminded that the storm raged on outside.
"Yeah, yeah," Baz repeated. He gave a scornful look at the basket of eggs(and rocks).
There were two other doors in the kitchen, aside from the one to the entry hall. One was to the pantry, where the basket and other food items were stored. Again, where Boros was procuring enough food to feed them all and himself was a mystery. The other door, next to the pantry, had a lock on it. The mysterious and forbidden basement.
While Boros did not seem to be lying about having personal memories down there, he also did not remember much about his keep. He had no clue what was in the tower and barely remembered why he had locked up the library. There may be something intriguing under the keep that the old human simply forgot.
Secrets forgotten just needed to be uncovered once more. Magics have been forgotten in the past. Whether it be because of ancient wars, calamities, or becoming defunct. History was riddled with places and people who played a role in something grand.
He once again entertained the notion that this keep may hold the secret to his triumphant return to the institute. He once again disregarded that notion. It was too soon to get his hopes up.
"Well, this breakfast rocked. Gonna have to go… do something productive now. Bye!" Runner had only just finished scarfing down her food before she fled from the kitchen. She seemed eager to get something done. The sooner it got done, the sooner she could laze about. He shared her sentiment.
"Where shall we help first?"
"Uhm… your rooms could use a good deep clean. I doubt you had enough time to clean them well." Boros began to stand, an arduous task for him. "There are supplies under the stairs. Feel free to use them."
"Let us get this done then." Yule was going to help clean, but he would be damned if he wasn't using magic to do so. He hadn't held a mop in decades, and he wasn't starting now.
They quickly cleaned up the remains of breakfast. Boros was looking around, slightly concerned.
"I am sorry, Yule. I seem to have misplaced the key to my library. Somewhere around here, I suppose. Has anyone seen it?"
Runner.