Chương 83: Hearth and Heart

Edmund walked up the stairs with a concerned look, a tall camera tucked under his arm. One might have expected that it was because of the absolute ruckus that was unfolding in the kitchen. Astrid stood at the counter, carefully assembling something that vaguely resembled a cake, twirling frosting atop a spongy base slick with whipped cream. Her brow was furrowed in fierce concentration. In front of her, Wretch was locked in a desperate battle, trying to hold back two twins and a rabid cat from the frosting bowl.

Jonna and Jenni, both wearing aprons several sizes too large, shouted as they reached for the sugary prize, held back by two gloved hands. Whiskey snarled, claws rasping against the counter while Wretch's tail snaked around the cat's fury-filled frame.

"You sure are a lively bunch today," Edmund said with a smile. The twins froze. Their warpath, at the cusp of victory, ended in a sudden defeat. Jonna ducked under the counter, disappearing from view. Jenni glanced around in panic, then vanished as well.

"Your daughters are thieves… frosting thieves," Wretch declared and pointed to the counter.

"I don't see any thieves?" Edmund said with a tilt of his head. Wretch looked to the two hiding girls, sitting crouched and easily visible from his point of view.

"How about this guy?" he said and raised his tail. Its cord-like muscles wrapped around the orange cat, who reached and clawed for the bowl with feral hisses.

"Oh," Edmund answered.

"Now that's a thief!" He threw his hat on the clothing rack and removed his coat.

"There," Astrid said and pushed up her glasses.

"All done!" She revealed the cake, a creamy mound that filled up the entire plate. More a heap of sugary bread and cream than any real dessert. On it, red frosting was looping into squiggly cursive." Elenya 18" Edmund leaned closer, a tug at the edge of his mouth.

"I am fairly certain Elenya is older than eighteen." Astrid shrugged.

"None of us knew how old she was. Even I only know her birthday after she mentioned it once." A voice came from behind the counter.

"Wretchy thought we should have guessed thirty!"

"Ouch," Edmund said with a pained expression. Wretch grew red.

"How was I supposed to know you always guess lower? That doesn't even make any sense!" Edmund gave a laugh at his misfortune.

"Speaking of the devil, where is she?" Jonna, or perhaps Jenni, peeked up from behind the counter.

"We made her go for a walk so we could prepare." Wretch grabbed the meowing cat with his gloved claws, thick leather that offered some protection for the people around him. Still, that only made the creature struggle even more fiercely.

"She will be out for a while," Astrid said, inspecting the cake with a nod of approval.

"We still have to make dinner. Where have you been all day?"

"Long brief at the bureau," Edmund said and settled down on the sofa with a sigh.

"Then ran some errands at the bank."

"Briefing from the bureau?" Wretch asked, putting the struggling cat on the floor and pulling out a chopping board.

"I'll tell you later," Edmund said while putting his feet on the table. Wretch and Astrid looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Wretch removed his gloves and began cutting onions with his claws, something he had been relegated to despite his sensitive nose and eyes. Soon, a stew was sputtering on the gas stove. Cutlery was placed, and candles were lit. Just as they finished, the door creaked below. Wretch remembered something and quickly spun around to the twins.

"Please," he begged.

"Don't tell her." The girls flashed identical mischievous grins.

"If we get half of your cake?" they replied in unison.

"Damn, you really are his kids," Wretch said through gritted teeth. Heavy steps came up the stairs.

"Deal," he said finally, quickly turning around to place a bowl of bread on the table as the twins giggled behind him. Elenya walked up the stairs and Whiskey ran up to meet her. At the sight of the feast, she grew pale. The twins leapt up with arms wide, while Astrid stood with hands on her hips and an uncharacteristic satisfied smirk.

"Tadaa!"

"Bloody hell," Elenya said with a frown, blowing a red lock of hair from her face.

"This is way too much!"

"I deem it a worthy celebration," Edmund said lazily from the sofa, giving a stretch.

"Take a seat," Astrid commanded with the apron tied around her black dress.

"We went all out today. Let me show you how we celebrate in the Bilyk family. I even strayed from the recipe for once." A few minutes later they were all seated around the table, Whiskey hunting toes under it. Wretch gazed at the feast. Strangely enough, his hunger wasn't there, even at the sight of the pickled vegetables in open jars, freshly baked bread, potatoes, and a mutton stew that gave off a musty fragrance. Elenya was looking at the table with greedy eyes.

"Let's get on with it. I am starving."

"Ah, ah!" Edmund interrupted with a smile.

"Two little songbirds requested an audience floor." The twins stood up with serious expressions. They cleared their throats at the same time and began a short hymn Wretch had never heard before, celebrating ages past and wishing for a long life. They were by no means bad, but certainly not great either. Somehow, Wretch found that it only added to the mood. During the song, Elenya sat utterly still, carefully examining the table's wooden surface with a hint of redness to her cheeks.

"Congratulations on thy birthday," the twins finished with a little bow before sitting down. The tall girl sighed relief.

"Thanks!" she said and gave Edmund a questioning gaze.

"Don't look at me, you're the birthday girl!" he answered. Elenya responded by impaling a potato with her fork. The feast began, and different conversations sprang up around the table. Wretch and Astrid discussed the symbols he had found in the black city.

"The only thing I have found is this," Astrid said as she produced a notebook stained with flour from a fold in her apron. Does she always carry that poor thing? She flipped through the pages. He caught a glance of lines of text and drawings. A schematic of a train, a silhouette in the mist, Sternthal's desecrated church. Then a drawing of a body, tucked between sheets with missing legs and underdeveloped facial features, a cat sitting with its back turned to stare at the figure. Him.

Then she paused on a page with symbols and letters ordered in a line.

"This one," she said and pointed to a particular symbol.

"I think it means end, but I need more." Wretch forced a spoonful of food into his mouth as Astrid continued. There was a tremor in his gloved hand.

"It's strange. The symbols work with our language, the one we speak. But not in writing. As if the symbols are simply exchanged," she said as she snapped the book closed.

"How's the training coming along?" Wretch asked, trying to keep his thoughts away from the memories and to shut out the whispers of the flame. Had they grown in strength, or was he perhaps imagining it?

"I am still tending to that tree in the training-room. I think I'll get it to bloom eventually, but your remarks helped, they really did. Half an hour later, the bowls and pots were all empty and the team breathed out in satisfaction.

"I can't lie," Elenya said.

"Astrid, you really can cook."

"Just wait until the dessert," she replied and the taller girl raised an eyebrow.

"But first," Edmund said, waving the handkerchief over his face.

"Family photo. I'd be damned if I didn't get every pence out of it after that renting fee." Despite a few protests, Edmund shuffled everyone towards the balcony and got the camera ready at an appropriate distance. Elenya stood in the back, her thick arms crossed before her chest. Edmund stood in the middle with his daughters, Astrid in her black dress to one side, and Wretch on the other. He was thankful that he'd chosen a black vest for the occasion, though the length of his hair pained him somewhat.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Alright, focus now," Edmund said.

"We only have one shot at this."

"When I press the button we have five seconds to prepare, then we can get to dessert." Everyone nodded in understanding. Edmund pressed a button, and a string of clicks began from the machine. He walked with quick steps to the middle of the group.

"Five," he counted down.

"Where is Whiskey?" asked one of the twins. Everyone looked around.

"Four," Edmund counted. On the table, the orange cat was feasting on the leftovers from the pans, devouring them with primordial gluttony.

"Get him!" the other twin called in a panicked voice.

"Three." Wretch lunged to the side, grabbed the feline, and spun. The cat shrieked in surprise, sauce whipping from its whiskers.

"Two," Edmund said, half stunned by the display. Wretch hurled the cat, its meows of anger turning high-pitched as it sailed through the air. Elenya caught it, Whiskey clinging frantically to her grip.

"One!" Edmund said, struggling to hold back a laugh. Wretch slid back into the picture, and the twins and the Captain cracked into a cackle. Flash. For a moment, the room was bathed in white light, a fizz and smoke coming from the contraption.

"Cake time!" the twins shouted in unison. Wretch buried a mental picture of an exploding gatehouse deep within his mind. Astrid gave a modest smirk at the spectacle and went to the kitchen, revealing the cake from under an overturned pan. They moved to the sofa as Astrid shuffled out tiny plates and spoons.

"What do you think?" she asked her female colleague.

"Why does it say eighteen?" Elenya asked with a puzzled look, still holding Whiskey as she sat down.

"We didn't actually know your age, so Wretchy got to guess," Astrid replied calmly. He shot up, meeting her deadly stare, then looked around in panic. Several questionable answers flashed through his mind.

"Yup, eighteen," he said finally. Elenya's brow furrowed.

"Really… eighteen?" Wretch nodded.

"Eighteen! Definitely."

"You actually think that?" she asked, the threat of violence hanging around her. He looked at her as Edmund muffled a childlike giggle.

"Twenty?" he said with uncertainty. She eyed him for a moment, then leaned back with a satisfied smile.

"Twenty is a good guess." He breathed a sigh of relief. Astrid cut the cake and passed it out along the table, though it was more a stack of mush than anything resembling an actual cut piece.

"This is great!" Edmund said, sticking a dripping spoon into his mouth.

"Speaking of great," Astrid said while Wretch put half his piece on one of the twins' cutlery,"I have a present for you, Elli!" Elenya shook her head.

"Bloody hell, you are spoiling me!" Astrid revealed a book with a red band tied around it.

"It's the great history of Nov Yanosk's Blessed. Found it in the bookstore the other day." The twins whipped out a drawing each, their pearly teeth as blinding as the white paper.

"Wow!" Elenya exclaimed with feigned enthusiasm. The twins handed out their creative works with puffed-up chests. One depicted a thin man being eaten by a mean-looking dog while a red-haired stick figure swung a sword. The other was a drawing of an orange cat with a hat, dressed fully in a hunter uniform and brandishing a stern look.

"Nice, just like I remember it," Elenya said, looking at the pictures. Wretch looked between the crew. He hadn't known to prepare anything like a present. The Captain gave him a nudge and pressed a long package wrapped in red string into his gloved hands. Wretch looked at him in surprise, and Edmund gave a wink and cleared his throat.

"I guess it's my turn. I chose this with care," he said and handed over a tiny bottle from his pocket to Elenya. She looked at it and turned it around, shaking the pills inside.

"It's hangover pills," Edmund said even before she had finished reading. Elenya chuckled.

"Thanks. Do you have a bottle of spirit to go with it?" Edmund shrugged his shoulders and sat down.

"Not today, I need you to come with me to the bureau tomorrow morning."

"A mission?" Elenya and Wretch said in unison while the twins munched down on the dessert. The Captain sighed.

"I will brief you tomorrow. For now, it's our scouts' turn, if we really can still call you that," Edmund said and gave a heavy pat on Wretch's shoulder. Elenya scoffed.

"You don't owe me anything. Well actually, you did cut my arm off." The high-tier healer had cost a small fortune, thankfully. The bureau and the military had finally settled their differences and paid in full to regrow her arm and foot. Though Wretch knew she had a circular scar around each limb that refused to heal even to Astrid's power. Wretch tapped the package in his hands.

"Actually, this is for you," he said and his tail wrapped around the package to pass it over the table without him having to stand. Elenya looked at the wrapping in surprise.

"Open it!" the twins demanded. The tall girl ripped through the package, the metal catching the candlelight. A knife of shining steel inlaid with details of brass in patterns of flames that twisted into a handle designed like a knuckle-duster. To Wretch or anyone else it would be large and unwieldy, but to Elenya it was more akin to a long dagger. She put her fingers inside the holes and held the disturbing weapon above her. Her eyes were sparkling as she examined it in different angles.

"By the Saint, it's beautiful!" Wretch gave a low laugh.

"I am glad you like it." They ate the cake and Astrid even brought out her lute, playing a cheerful tune that seemed to stray from the original piece. That only added depth to her composition. The others might not have noticed, but Wretch knew she was working on that part of herself since they had spoken. Wretch hadn't meant for her to change anything but the handling of the flame. But now she seemed to experiment with her every action. In some ways, she is the most normal out of all of us.

But in others she is undoubtedly the strangest, Wretch thought at the sight. After a while, Edmund pulled out his pipe and stepped out on the balcony. Wretch snuck out with him and closed the glass door behind him.

"Thank you," he said. Edmund just nodded as he lit his pipe. From inside, the laughs of the twins and Elenya mixed with the improved tunes of Astrid's lute. Wretch sucked in the cold autumn air as he looked to the city beneath.

"It's nice."

"It is, isn't it," Edmund answered as he blew out smoke. Wretch leaned on the railing.

"But if you go too fast, you miss it, right? That's what you meant."

"Something like that," Edmund said with a nod. It was quiet, and Wretch let his eyes gaze over the cityscape, the lights of the Lows shining through the smog. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm trying to hold it in, Captain. The pressure, that urge, that violence. But it's getting harder." Edmund looked at him.

"I see you, son, after everything you've been through. I'd be twice as worried had you been unmoved." Wretch shook his head.

"I am capable of such absolute slaughter. I could kill and maim a dozen armed men in the blink of an eye. And then here I am, just a scout with a talent for peeling potatoes. Can both those people be me?"

"Nourish the second one, let him grow stronger too," Edmund answered.

"I've seen him. Taking arrows for others, throwing himself from bolting trains, staying when other Blessed flee. You're kind. Don't deny yourself that." Wretch pursed his lips to answer, but the chime of metal against wood interrupted him. They both looked inside as the twins chased Whiskey past the balcony glass, a piece of cake in the cat's jaws. A man with a thick mustache peeked out through a cracked window into the night.

"They're late," he said. Behind him, another man sat at a leaning table, studying a dozen maps beneath a flickering candle. He brushed his hair behind his ears. It was stark white at the roots and faded to black at the tips. In a corner stood rows of barrels. A woman broke one open, revealing a layer of potatoes. She tipped it over. Potatoes spilled across the floorboards, followed by metal canisters and cogs that clattered over the wood.

"Be a little careful, would you, love?" said the man at the table without looking up.

"Sorry, Mr. Grendel. If you've worked in the deep furnace all your life, you become inoculated to the noise," said the woman.

"I've told you, call me Gren," he said. The man at the window glanced back, then returned his attention to the street.

"What if they got caught?" Grendel shook his head.

"The one you call the Professor isn't easily caught." He paused, eyes still on the map.

"Here they come. From the south, two hundred meters down the road. Three of them, armed."

"Your hearing is incredible, sir," said the woman as she sorted the stack of mismatched metal parts littering the floor. Grendel sighed, and his brow knitted over his pale blue eyes. Soon, a knock came from the door, and the man with the mustache opened it. Three figures entered, a stern and clean-shaven middle-aged man in the middle, flanked by two robed figures. The door clicked shut behind them. The Professor's face lit up. He removed his hat and spread his arms wide.

"Lill Grendel, my boy. It's good to see you." Grendel's skin twitched and squirmed, traveling in a wave from his hand up to his temple.

"Stay the fuck away from me." The professor pushed up his glasses and looked at the person behind him, a grim-looking man.

"Don't be so stiff to your pa. All I wish is to congratulate you on Sternthal's fall." He sat down with a straight back on a worn chair. Grendel rose slowly as the older man settled into his seat. A pressure crawled into the room, and the shadows of the candlelight swayed. The others took a step back.

"When this is all over, I will kill you. You know that, right?" The professor removed his gloves and shrugged his shoulders with an amused smile.

"You have been quite clear on that particular issue. I expect no less."

"I met your new little plaything, though I doubt he survived what I sent toward Sternthal," Grendel said, leaning closer over the table with unblinking eyes. The professor clicked his tongue and tilted his head.

"You two are so alike. I'm sure you'd get along. A boy should have friends." Grendel's eyes shot up, and the floorboards creaked under invisible pressure.

"Gentlemen, please," said the man behind the professor, revealing an ivory mask expressing a theatrical expression of grief. Grendel gave a hoarse smile and slowly the pressure receded.

"Go on, you pathetic old man." The professor shook his head.

"The Corps are moving. I don't know why. We're heading east ahead of schedule. Come along?" Grendel shook his head.

"No need. Our divination protection is solid. Slowly but surely, I'll bleed her dry from within. This city is my home. I won't leave it that easily."

"How unfortunate," the professor said, rubbing his stubbled chin.

"Well, if you see my little Wretch, please hurt him plenty. That's how kids grow. True Blessed, both of you, through and through." Grendel looked at the two people standing beside the professor, giving them a long look. Without warning, his skin rippled. He shot forward, crossing the room in a blur. Claws burst from his fingers, white hair sprouting along his forearm, and he seized the Professor by the collar, lifting him off the ground. The others stumbled back in shock.

"Master Grendel!" called the man with the grieving mask.

"Please, we are on the same side."

"You're two men, Embers, right?" Grendel hissed.

"I'm taking them, flee west alone and in shame."

"But our orders," said a short and stout man, opening his coat to reveal cobblestones fastened to the inside and a white mask frozen in exaggerated surprise. The professor hung limp in the grip of the younger man but still managed a confident smile to his bodyguards.

"Marish, Dimitry, it's all right." Grendel threw him to the floor with a thud. The old man groaned, his facade of courtesy breaking for a moment.

"Is this how you treat your father? I who granted you the Flame of Beasts."

"You are no more my father than that monster up in the Spires. Now run while muttering prayers that we'll never succeed, because after the Saint, the next name on my list is yours."