Volithur sat with the retinue in a room at the very peak of the pyramid. The ceiling cap was the blue-green of copper verdigris, the sloping sides of the room were gss, and the floor was solid stone. They could look in any direction and see the estate of the Fifth Household with the city beyond its boundaries. Their seats had been provided by a dour member of the retinue called Stowaway, summoned out of nowhere as if by magic. The goblets of wine in everyone’s hands had come from the servants who stood at strict attention, immobile but for the occasional fear tremor.
“Were you the only one sent to the Fifth Household?”
“There was another, Master Thrakkar. My friend Thassily was your ward until a girl in town fell pregnant.”
The Lord General snorted a ugh. “Young men truly have one thing on their minds.”
Another of the retinue posed a question. “Should we fetch your friend for the wedding?”
“I don’t think that is necessary. He is very busy with his work and his family.”
“Sounds miserable,” the man responded.
The Lord General grunted, which was enough to create a space in the banter for him. Volithur had noticed that the free spirited members of the retinue were not as free from convention as they first appeared. They told crass jokes, certainly, but no one ever interrupted the Lord General or contradicted him or had fun at his expense. If anything, they pyed more hazardous roles with their improvisation than those who followed the strict script of hierarchical interactions.
“I have known many men to be quite content with domesticity,” the Lord General drawled. “It has never appealed to me, though I don’t look down on those who choose that path. Let me ask you a question, Ward Harridan. Do you consider me a noble?”
Volithur paused, mind racing. He had heard once that the Lord General was born a commoner and only became a noble when he reached level ten and became a lord. Calling the man a commoner, though… that would not be proper. Not at all. “Master Thrakkar, I would consider you a lord.”
“A good answer,” the Lord General said. “I don’t think of myself as a noble. They’re a soft, pampered lot. I grew up poor in a neighborhood that only those with strength of limb and quickness of wit could survive. After a few false starts, I thrived there. Until the authorities decided I was a criminal, at which time my only options were execution or joining the local army. I think it’s obvious from who I am now what I chose. I consider myself first and foremost a warrior. My next question: what do you consider yourself, Ward Harridan?”
“I don’t really know, Master Thrakkar.”
“The youth often struggle to find themselves. I notice that you’ve made acceptable progress on your body enhancement. How has your combat training progressed?”
“I train with the intermediate group during sparring,” Volithur said.
“Do you do well?”
Volithur winced. He really wanted to avoid displeasing this man, but he didn’t want to be caught in a lie. “The current stage of my body enhancement has introduced muscle imbances that hurt my coordination.”
“How was your performance before that?”
“I was doing very good at the beginner level. They moved me up because they said I sparred too hard against the others.”
“Did you?”
“I think my fists are just hard.”
Chuckles greeted his words. When the Lord General directed a smirk at his retinue, the rge guy spoke. “He looks like Harridan but thinks like me.”
“Hold up a minute, Yowl, let’s not diagnose the boy with a personality disorder quite yet.”
The big man smacked his gut as he ughed. “Come on, Perry, I’m tired of being the only battle maniac in the group.”
The Lord General held a hand to his chest in faux outrage. “I’m not a battle maniac?”
Yowl shrugged. “With all my respect, Master Thrakkar, you’re too smart to be called a maniac. When I punch a Jinn tank, I never know if the metal or my fist is breaking first. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make a real mistake.”
The Lord General nodded. “Fair enough, Yowl. I have been warring with the Jinn for two hundred years now. That’s taught me a thing or two about what not to do.”
“Master Thrakkar, with the virtue of all that experience, do you think I should punch War Barge Kevin?”
“Yowl, I think such action would be contrary to your well being,” the Lord General said. “Ward Harridan, despite the hardness of your fists, I have reason to believe you might be a bit of an intellectual. I understand you attended an academic competition?”
Volithur nodded. “Yes, Master Thrakkar. I performed calcutions as part of the Shaocheth team. We received a trophy the first year, but failed the next without Master Ulysses.”
“Calcutions. The ability is essential for the commercial aspect of my family.” The way the Lord General spoke made it clear that he didn’t have any personal interest in the subject.
As a silence fell, Volithur racked his brain for something to say. He was certain the Lord General had never intended to make Volithur part of his retinue. Yet for some reason the man had accepted an invitation. During their first encounter, the Lord General gave the impression of someone seeing to a tedious task. Today he appeared in good spirits. His retinue put quite a bit of effort into entertaining their lord. Everything crystallized in a moment. The Lord General, warrior that he was, only enjoyed fighting and hanging out with the guys. He’d come that day because he missed the real Harridan.
“Master Thrakkar? I have often wondered about who Harridan was. Could you share any stories of him?”
His request proved wise. Not only did the Lord General jump at the opportunity, the members of the retinue became more at ease. He’d not noticed it, but their previous levity had been a bit tense. No doubt worried that the ignorant commoner from an unempowered world would ruin the mood.
The picture that they painted for Volithur was of a quiet man who had a savage sense of timing for comedic remarks. There was a long-running joke where Harridan would cim of random events that ‘the dog must have done it’. It had begun when a tracking dog had eaten the core of a beast they hunted before they could get there. Everyone had been irate at the animal until Harridan pointed to the missing heart core and made the obvious observation. It barely qualified as a joke then.
Over time, though, the joke had grown. A soldier came home from over a year of warring to discover his wife pregnant and trying to py innocent. When the man roared to the retinue that someone had to be to bme, Harridan had struck with his line. When a Jinn hydrogen facility spontaneously exploded just days before their attack, Harridan had caused the irate Lord General to break into ughter when he bmed the dog.
There was also a story of him discovering that the girl he married from his hometown was his second cousin. He voluntarily told everyone the situation, even people he met for the first time. He would apparently introduce himself and add ‘I just recently learned I married my second cousin’. After about a week of that, the Lord General asked him if he was bothered by the fact. His response was ‘I thought she was my first cousin’.
In addition to being a id back joker, Harridan had also been a steadfast companion who went out of his way to keep an eye on his fellow soldiers. He got drunks safely to bed, kept track of enlistment anniversaries, introduced shy soldiers to girls, and prevented equipment losses due to carelessness. His mannerisms eased over conflicts that arose among the ranks during the tension of extended campaigns.
Volithur couldn’t help but think that there were worse people to be named after. Not that he would ever think of himself as anything other than his birth name.
Eventually, the Marshal’s head appeared as he climbed the stone stairway to the top level. The Lord General squinted over at the man. “You are the Marshal of this household, I believe?”
“Yes, Lord General.”
“You’ve done well with my Ward.”
“Thank you, Lord General.”
“Are you here to collect him? Wedding days tend to require things of the participants, as I recall.”
“If you do not mind, Lord General, I would like to describe the ceremony to Ward Harridan. He has never attended a wedding ceremony from our culture and I neglected to rehearse the proceedings with him.”
“Go, Harridan,” the Lord General commanded. “On any other day, I would be the most important person here. Today it is your bride.”
Volithur thanked the Lord General for his time and followed the Marshal down the steps. When they were on the first floor, the Marshal pulled Volithur into a side corridor where the Casteln awaited them.
“What’s going on up there?”
Volithur smiled at the nervous Casteln. “Master Thrakkar was telling me stories about the original Harridan.”
The Casteln scowled. “You should have emphasized to us how fond of you the Lord General was. How were we to know you weren’t a normal ward?”
The Marshal made a chopping motion of his hand. “The boy is not at fault for anything, Casteln. Ward Harridan, we have decided on a pn for your immediate future. As you are marrying, it would be improper to house you in the barracks. We will be assigning you a room in the pace for one year. And as an apology for any oversights in the past, you’re being guaranteed a weekly blood boiling elixir.”
Volithur’s sense of righteousness indignation urged him to punish the Casteln and extort more resources, but whatever wisdom he possessed put a hold on that foolishness. He did not need enemies. Especially not when his fortunes rose and fell so easily on the whims of others. “Master Marshal, Master Casteln, I of course appreciate your generosity. I hope you will continue to show me goodwill even though it is not necessary to entice my good behavior. The Fifth Household is my home and I would not speak out against it.”
“The fates are kind today,” the Casteln whispered.
The Marshal nodded in agreement. “Let’s take you to your bride, Ward Harridan. The ceremony isn’t complicated, but we don’t want you looking like a fool.”
