A young human came to the retired king now called Kosh once more. They came from another kingdom, a runaway dirty, almost skeletally thin, and exhausted. They beg for food, for water, for a place to hide, they didn't want to go back there ever again. -- Anon Guest
Kosh found hir curled up in the goat stalls, Somehow cuddled up to his biggest bastard of a Dire Goat. That old hellion was a decent enough judge of character or, judging by the look of the child, it might just be that Disaster mistook hir for one of the herd's kids. Ze certainly smelled like the rest of the goats.
Ze was still breathing, so that was something.
"Kleine?" he singsonged. "I need to milk these goats and you might get stood on."
Ze woke by cringing in place and blurting, "No! Don't!"
He hadn't touched the child. Kosh leaned on his cane and did his best to look like a harmless old Teufel. "It's all right, little one. You're safe." He offered his empty hand. "Gekommen sie. You need a bath, clean clothes, and at least some soup, ja?"
Ze rubbed a distinctive mark on hir wrist. The mark of a slaver's shackle. Kosh let hir believe that he didn't see it. "You... won't call the Watch?"
"They have bigger problems to deal with." He tried not to think about how light ze was, nor how easy it was to lift them. He tried not to think about how chapped and raw hir bare feet were. Ze didn't need his righteous anger. Ze needed comfort and safety. So he lead hir towards the house, and readied the washtub.
It was a wonder, as most things were, these days. Amazing how eliminating the cause of life's problems left people the time to spend on creating something new and wonderful. Charmed oak, magical caulking, and the ever-important sigils to command it to do any combination of things. Three pails of water from the household pump, and he could go from there.
"Let's see... for a humanoid... nicely warm..." he traced each sigil in turn, making them glow. "Soap, yes... scent of citrons, I think. And a dash of cloves." The water within the tub soon bubbled and steamed. "Ach. I forgot. It likes to make bubbles. It's not boiling, I promise." He made his way to the stairs and called up, "Haschen? We have a guest, today. I still have to milk the goats and start some cheese."
Delia sighed from upstairs, "Of course you do. I'll be a minute and then start today's bread."
Kosh gave the child a washcloth. "Rub it everywhere, ja? Stop when it hurts."
When he was done with goats and cheese, and a few bottles set aside for the closet of cold, the child was clean and dressed in one of his grandchildren's spare robes. Delia had given hir some quick rolls so she could work on the morning loaf while the evening loaf's flour underwent its autolysing.
"Ooh," Kosh cooed. "There was a little Human under all that dirt. Hallo, kleine. What brings you to this old devil's doorstop?"
Kosh had heard similar stories when he sat the Blood Throne. He had eliminated slavery for all of Pax Infernus, but there were other parts of the world on the outside of it who refused to follow Whitekeep's example. The arguments by those who held the chains were always the same. Sunken cost, great traditions, demands for reparations, and who was going to be able to afford paying people for all that work?
For this orphan, it was a vastly different narrative. An owner's mistake, a desperate flight. Bashing hir chains off with rocks. Spending every spare minute running for the slightest hint of safety. Running away from anyone with a blade, or armour, or both. Staying away from most civilised papers.
All the way to his little farm in Laulis.
"I didn't mean to steal th' space in your barn."
"Kleine, you could have knocked on my door and I'd have loaned you a bed. We have laws about hospitality here."
"Very true," said Delia. "We'll get you nice and healthy, and then you can appeal to the king. He'll listen."
"If he knows what's good for him, he will," Kosh muttered into his breakfast.
It took two weeks, and a ride in the mountainside barges to reach the bleach-white heap of stone and random architecture that was Whitekeep castle. Squatting on the mountain like a toad. Kosh, ever allergic to front doors, brought them all in via a side door and found his son's office.
Poor little Whisp, affectionately named such, was agog at how they could just stroll in. Ze still hadn't put it together.
Korm Ten was working on some diplomacy with the same grimace Kosh had used. He looked up and found Delia first. "Ma?" Then Kosh himself. "Da? What in the--" he finally noticed their new adoptee. "Oh. It's this again. Who's the asshole we have to happen to this time?"
Whisp's head was whipping about, noticing the features of each face. putting words like 'Ma' and 'Da' together with the ease with which they traveled.
"We named hir Whisp," said Delia. "And it looks like Vaphambryl is overdue an audit."
[Photo by Catherine Kay Greenup on Unsplash]
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