Demesne 36 - The Aunt and the Niece (Patreon)

Lori had never seen Rian so nervous. It hasn't a state she associated with her lord. He was confident, charming, kind, oblivious to other's advances, could easily be mistaken for making advances, annoyingly insightful, straightforward, theatrical, helpful, determined, and had a strange fetish for voting, but never nervous.

He was nervous now as he explained the chain of events that had led to violence to her husband, being very careful to emphasize his non-involvement until it came time to heroically rescue the man from the clutches of betrayal and save her niece from the sudden attempt on her life in the process. The woman didn't speak, didn’t ask questions, just stood listening quietly with a stern look that seemed to imply that no matter what he said, he was in trouble. Lori just sat back and let it happen, and most certainly did not have terrifying visions of the times her mothers had made her explain herself.

The militiamen, for their part, looked slightly amused at the exchange, although Lori noted they made sure to stay behind the woman when they smiled.

"…and that's what happened, Missus Vyshke," Rian finished, shuffling and clearly needing to constantly remind himself to make eye contact rather than look down at his feet. "We had no idea he was planning to hurt your husband and niece the way he did, I swear! We just came here to help get wounded people back to our demesne with their families and claim the dungeon, back when we thought it was still unclaimed. We didn't even know your niece was the Dungeon Binder until Grem attacked her and her uncle intervened."

"That doesn't explain why she was upset," the motherly Vyshke woman said. "She said a woman was saying all sort of horrible things about beating people."

"That was our Dungeon Binder trying, in her own 'not-good-with-children' way, to find out how Grem was going to be punished," Rian said. "He's one of ours now, so we have a responsibility towards his well-being, even in he probably deserves everything that's coming to him."

The Vyshke woman turned her gaze towards Lori. Lori reached over, grabbed Rian by the top of his trousers, and pulled him in front of her.

The woman probably made a face, because Rian sheepishly said, "She's not good with older people, either. I'm here to answer any questions you have on her behalf."

"And this is the woman who leads your demesne?" There was clear skepticism in the words.

"She was the only wizard still alive when we finally had to build our Dungeon," Rian said. "I'm sure you know what it's like to not be spoiled for choice."

There was a tense silence.

"She made me niece cry," the Vyshke woman said.

"Mom– Ma'am! With all due respect for your niece's pain, her father had recently died," Rian said. "If she wasn't inclined to cry and be upset, I'd be worried for her sanity. It sounds callous, but it's true. We regret our part in making her cry this time. But we only asked questions that had to be answered to settle Grem's fate."

"Oh, him. I have yet to get to him," the Vyshke woman said.

"Can we come along?" Rian said. "We'd like to know what he has to say too."

There was a moment of silence. Rian was blocking Lori's view, so she couldn't see what the Vyshke woman was doing with her face.

"I'm sure someone will tell you," the Vyshke woman said.

"As his lord and Binder, if your Binder isn't going to give him a proper trial for what he's done, that we're obligated to," Rian said. They were? "And if you're going to couch this in terms of parental concern, then as the ones in authority over Grem, we're the ones responsible for him. That means getting his side of events. That's not an unreasonable request, is it? And if we go together, we can all be sure we're being told the same thing. I just punched the man repeatedly into unconsciousness, which is a first for me, and I'm not even sure if he's still alive. At the very least, I want to know why I had to do that. Wouldn't you?"

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River's Fork Demesne didn't have an established jail, as apparently this was the first violent altercation that had necessitated it. Previous violent altercations, they had been told when the lack of facilities was explained, had all been in good fun and not required incarceration. The Vyshke woman led the way after a quick conversation with the militia guarding them. While no orders were given, the militiamen had suddenly said it was quite reasonable that they been allowed to see Grem to hear his side of things.

Lori suspected that if nothing else, the Vyshke woman was much more respected than her husband.

In lieu of proper holding cells, Grem had been put in the nearest abandoned house, of which there was a surplus. It wasn't a large surplus, as many had been destroyed by the dragon during its passing, but given that the demesne has housing only a fraction of what it originally had, people were hardly wanting for sufficient shelter. There were more former militia guarding it, actual swords at their waists and grim expressions on their faces.

The fact the door was open was slightly concerning.

"Vollis!" one of the militiamen in the group escorting them snapped, addressing one of the militia standing guard. "Why is that door open?"

The man's hand jerked as if to make an abortive salute. "Yllian, sir," the man said. "The Great Binder wanted to see the prisoner. Don't worry, Mylls and Yvenne are with her to make sure nothing funny happens." Then he glanced, saw the Vyshke woman, and swallowed nervously. "Missus Vyshke. D-don't worry! We made sure he was unconscious first! He still hasn't woken up from his beating."

Rian coughed. "Oh, that's… slightly concerning. I hope I didn't give him a concussion or brain damage or anything…"

The militiamen eyed him warily. Grem had not been a small man, and Rian, while fit, was not a large one. He, for his part, simply smiled at them, which seemed to make them nervous.

The Vyshke woman frowned, but stepped into the house. It was a small house, seemingly made from a single, living tree that had been modified with Deadspeaking to have internal hollows that could be used for a dwelling. Presumable recently cut parts of other trees had been added to it to give it mass, given that some of the bark on the outside had different textures. After a moment, Lori and Rian were allowed to follow. The house was a single large room, about six paces in diameter. Niches for bunks had been carved along one well, and there was some kind of firepit in the middle made from sand and rocks, blackened slightly from when it had been used.

Grem was lying, still unconscious, in one of the bunk niches. There were still bloodstains on his face, now dried dark brown. Next to him, with two men standing between her and Grem, was Binder Shanalorre, looking like someone who'd been caught with a staff raised to club someone in the library. Not that Lori knew what that was like, of course.

"Shana," the Vyshke woman said. "I thought I told you to stay at home, while I found out what was going on." The tone, rather than being angry, was disappointed.

Lori could feel her heart writhing at that rainbowed colors tone, and she had to remind herself repeatedly this woman wasn't one of her mothers and had no power over her. From his expression, Rian looked to be doing the same.

The girl shuffled nervously, but held her ground. She drew herself up, not that she reached very high, and met her aunt's gaze. "I asked, and was told that ninong Grem had not yet been treated for his wounds," she said, managing to keep her voice even. "As the Great Binder, I am responsible for the health of all in this demesne, so I came to heal him. He had head wounds." Her lips quavered slightly. "Tyatya said headwounds always needed to be healed first, or it could be very bad, s-so that's what I'm doing!"

The Vyshke woman nodded, as if in understanding. Lori was instantly wary. Mothers were never understanding when they were disappointed, they were just setting you up for more guilt! "I see… well, you should have asked first. Especially since I told you to stay home."

"I am Great Binder n-now," Binder Shanalorre said, clenching her teeth and briefly blinking back tears. She hastily wiped them from her eyes. "This is my demesne. I don't need permission to go anywhere."

"That's as maybe, but if I didn't take care of you, your father will rise from the ashes to haunt me for–" the Vyshke woman began.

"Well, maybe that's what I want!" Binder Shanalorre suddenly exclaimed. The tears were back, and she rubbed at her eyes angrily. "I want tyatya to rise from the ashes! So stop taking care of me so he'll come back!"

For a moment, the Vyshke woman looked like she was about to retort back, just like one of Lori's mothers would have… but she kept silent, and waited as the young Dungeon Binder stood there and cried.

"We all miss them, Great Binder," one of the militiamen said tenderly, raising one hand to gently squeeze the girl's shoulder. The other man offered her his water skin.

Rian, for his part, looked incredibly awkward, staring up at the ceiling as Lori waited through the emotional drama and hoped she didn't have to contribute anything.

Eventually, the tears stopped. The young Binder still looked absolutely miserable, her stomach and shoulder still heaving from sobs, but there was a limit to how much water the body was willing to lose to tears. Finally, even those subsided, and Shanalorre took deep, steadying breaths that shook only slightly. She gave her aunt a wary, defiant look, then reached for Grem, putting her little hands on his head.

There was nothing to see as she used Deadspeaking. Nothing to hear, no great sonorous gong as it was often depicted with in theatrical performances. Lori didn't feel anything through the cloud of airwisps she'd surrounded herself with and spread across the room, no displacement as other imbued wisps made contact with them. Was that because she was yet untrained in Deadspeaking herself? She thought she'd have at least felt something, now that she was a Binder… but no, it felt the same way as it always did whenever a Deadspeaker used their magic around her: nothing.

Yet clearly something happened. The livid bruising on Grem's face faded away, replaced with healthy skin tones, and that was probably the least of what she was doing. Lori had to wonder how it was done. General introductory texts, given to everyone so they could start learning how to breathe in and circulate magic, spoke of generally of what other wizards few their magic into. Whisperers imbued them into wisps, Horotracts used it to define vistas, Mentalists somehow put it into their thoughts, and Deadspeakers turned it into… life? The texts had been generally vague, and while Lori had skimmed the parts not about Whispering in curiosity, once it became clear they were absolutely no use to her she'd put them out of her mind.

She was slightly regretting that now. Slightly.

Grem's breathing changed just as the young Binder drew back, and the militiamen with her, as well as the ones who had accompanied them, became more alert, all their eyes on the man.

Grem's eyes opened slowly.

"Good afternoon Grem," Rian said brightly, making Shanalorre jump in surprise. "Had a nice nap? Because it's been a long day and we'd really like to know what you thought you were doing this morning."

"Lord Rian…?" Grem said, sounding disoriented. "Did you do it? Did you kill her? Is everyone safe now?"

Lori became aware of glares being directed towards them. She took deeper breaths, trying not to be obvious about it.

"I swear I have no idea what he's talking about," Rian said.