This one flowed out of me, even if when I started writing I had a different plot in mind. But you can't control your gardening any more than you can the weather. 😅 So here we are!
🌘 In the same world 🌘
Initiation | A Glint Amongst The Rubble | The Ringing Harbinger | For Duty Untold | Heavier than any Burden | Fumes
While writing, this one became more interconnected with the world it's set in. If you are curious and want to follow along, I recommend you also read 🌘 For Duty Untold 🌘. There is a more tangential connection between this story and that one than the small nods between other stories. However, if you don't want to, you don't have to. You won't miss out on much. 😉
The reading order never matters in these, they are meant to be read as a disorganized anthology anyway. 🙂
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Mrs. Gentry was a grouch.
She appeared to shuffle through her orphanage with a stare that brook no argument. Her once-husband used to say she was like a thorn-vine - unobtrusive, but liable to hurt you if you ignored it. He wasn't very good with words. He wasn't very good with anything, really.
"Madam." Her assistant, Bertha, was waiting for her at the entrance.
"Stop with the bowing, girl. You're making me feel like a noble brat."
Bertha smiled but bowed again. Her brown bun bobbing in agreement. Mrs. Gentry liked her newest assistant, she knew when to shut up.
"The boy's here then?"
"Yes. His parents are seeing him up the hill right now."
Mrs. Gentry growled her consent, then got out a napkin and started polishing the tip of her walking stick. She noticed Bertha's side-eye and ignored it. Sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, Mrs. Gentry conceded she was old - and the flimsy habits that came with that distinction.
The parents left no impression on her. Good. Caring parents didn't leave their children here. It set a terrible precedent. They said the usual words, did the usual things and were soon gone. Leaving behind a scared little boy.
The boy looked the part of a young noble. Combed hair. Not for long. Dressed in a small black suit. Nicer than most garments we throw away. And eyes that were equally confused and angry and afraid, That... will take a while to mend.
"Welcome to the rehabilitation center, young master Illen. My name is Bertha and this here is our Head Mistress, Madam Gentry."
Mrs. Gentry beckoned Bertha to lean close. "Leave this one to me, Bertha." She whispered. "He looks like a special case."
Bertha nodded silently and was soon gone. Not that she was bad at her job, far from it, but sometimes Mrs. Gentry would notice cases that needed her... practiced touch.
"Come boy!"
The boy followed her through the cobwebbed hallways, dragging his small suitcase behind him. He did not seem to pay attention to his surroundings.
"Illen, is it?" A small nod was all she got. A special case, indeed. "Well, Illen, I guarantee this place will exceed your expectations. Just you watch."
The boy remained silent, and Mrs. Gentry let him. Some boys required a firm hand, for guidance, of course. Others needed coddling and soft words. Almost all boys slept in the same area and performed the same activities overseen by Bertha. Almost all boys. Some particular ones came with her.
Mrs. Gentry also had no delusions as to her appearance. She might be still young but she looked like a crone. Stooped and slow. Her hair like that of a ghost's: wispy and barely noticeable. Her cane was a constant confirmation of her bearing - firm. And she walked with the demeanor of a woman that has lived in turmoil her entire life and has come out the other side.
The two of them walked in silence, the occasional distant cry of laughter their only companion. They went down two flights of stairs and were soon walking down a cold, dingy tunnel lined with torches.
"It gets warmer at the end. This tunnel is freezing though, I know." Nothing.
They entered a room covered in warmth, wood, dirt, and even more cobwebs. A small girl hopped off a barrel when she saw the Head Mistress. "Madam!"
"Stop throwing googly eyes at me, Siv!" Gentry barked. "Go with the others! Tell them you're getting a new friend." Siv ran, too petrified to say another word. She was a good kid.
Gentry brushed the barrel Siv sat on and likewise did the same. She gestured to an upturned box and the boy took up place across from her. His suitcase dropped to the floor, opening and spilling all of its contents. Illen looked ready to cry.
"None of that now." Gentry gestured to the clothes. "If you still want those, we'll clean them for you." Her gnarled face got real close to the boy, inspecting, assessing. "But I doubt it."
"I want my -"
"Stop that!" The boy halted his imminent cry. "You think I'm scary, boy? Mm? You have yet to experience genuine fear. Trust me, Illen." That didn't help the situation so she backed off. "Why do you think you're here?"
"Papa... papa said that if I was bad he would, he would send me to that old witch up the hill! And I didn't mean to steal the purse but the woman said I was an ugly little boy so I was mad and just... and just..." Now, he started crying.
Mrs. Gentry let him, absorbing the boy's rant. "Old witch, eh? Will have to look into that." She leaned in closer once more. "You actually stole a purse, mm?" She chuckled the sound of beads grinding. "Whose was it?"
"M - Mrs. Penrose!" The boy and Mrs. Gentry both started wailing, both were loud, both had tears in their eyes.
"That's perfect!" Gentry slapped her knee, then ruffled the boy's hair. "Good job, kiddo. Good job! Oh. I haven't had a good laugh in a while. Thank you." Another spasm took her and she slapped her knee again.
Illen, for his part, stopped crying and was now thoroughly confused. He seemed to have forgotten about his scattered clothes. "I'm sorry for crying, old lady. My Papa always said good boys don't cry. I promise that was the last time."
Mrs. Gentry let out a long, stilling sigh. "For starters, boy, this is your first and last time you refer to me as such, understand?" The boy nodded. "Right. Next thing - we do not apologize here. Apologies are for the weak, Illen. You understand?" Illen nodded. "Good. You can cry as much as you want. Won't change a damn thing. So nobody will care, trust me."
She got up and brushed her knees. "Unless you cry during training. Then you'll have to stop until the session is over, of course."
"T-Training?"
"Training! What did you think this was? A slumber party? Siv! Siv, get in here!" Siv entered with her characteristic grin, her eyes twinkling. Gentry let out a loud tsk then flicked the girl's nose. "Been using the purple stuff again, have we?"
Siv's grin turned coy. "You said I could, mistress."
A short growl. "You will be a salutary lesson for our young master here." She turned to Illen. "There are no rules here either. You will live with the consequences of your actions." Gentry gave Siv a pointed look. "For the rest of your life, if you're not careful."
Siv's grin disappeared. Illen still wore a confused expression, but it was tempered by the casual air in the room. "You, you aren't an old witch?" Siv burst out laughing, and the boy soon lowered his eyes from the terror that was Mrs. Gentry's face. "I'm sorry..."
"Oh! Madam! Madam! Can I name him?"
"My name is Illen."
"Not anymore." Mrs. Gentry said, getting out a potion from one of the shelves lining the room. "At least, not yet."
"If you survive the test, you get a new name!" Siv said, clapping her hands.
"S-survive..."
"Stop scaring the boy, Siv! Don't worry, boy. I can see you have the gift. You'll survive."
"T-the gift..."
"So? Can I name him? Can I?"
Mrs. Gentry shrugged and Siv turned to Illen, stomping her feet, her face alight.
"I once had a brother who looked just like you! I miss him sometimes... but my instructors say that our past lives are dead, so I can't think of him anymore..." Her grin faded.
"Siv..." Mrs. Gentry's voice was dangerous.
"Right!" The grin returned. "He's gone now, but that's fine since you're here! His name was Kalvin! But we all called him Kalv."
"You are stretching, young lady."
"But he's Kalvin!"
Mrs. Gentry's face gave away no emotion. "We'll see. Prepare the testing chamber."
Siv clapped her hand again, enthusiastic as ever. She left through a different, more narrow door. Illen, or... it would be Kalvin now, looked at the opening as if it was about to swallow him whole. I suppose it will at that. She planted a gnarled hand on the boy's shoulder. He seemed to be calm, the only emotion that remained was an uncertain fear.
"It will be all right." She said in her authentic voice. "Mm? It will be all right. I can see it in you. Welcome home."
"You..." the boy was on the verge of crying again. "You are a nice old lady..."
Mrs. Gentry gave him her first smile of the week. "Don't tell anyone else. Mm?"
So, this one was fun to write. I planned on it being a more character-driven piece focused on Mrs. Gentry, but I'm glad we got the story we did. I'm happy I got to more heavily incorporate characters we've already seen. Kalvin and Siv's story is far from over, and I have several more entries that see them more heavily involved.
Hope you guys enjoyed it. 😌
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Peace and stay safe. 😙