Suddenly Vernier lurched forward (Patreon)

with a sob and threw her arms around me.

"There there," I murmured, stroking her hair.  "It's all right, just let it all out."

"My very first failure," Vernier choked, "was when my mother went into premature labor with my brother while our father was out working.  She was frail and sickly at the time, and she ... she didn't survive.  My last words to her were a promise that I would look after my father and my baby brother.  Not that the promise amounted to much!  I failed to honor my mother's dying wish, and I let her down.  I ... I let everyone down.  Even though he never raised his hand or voice against Olaf or me, our father drank himself to death over his grief.  I pleaded with him for years to stop, but nothing ... nothing I did or said made any difference."

"Wish my pappy had drunk himself to death," Burnside grumbled.  "He raised his hand an' voice an' plumb near everything else, an' the liquor just made him meaner.  Do I cry about it?  Heck no.  Matter of fact, I laughed an' laughed the day I finally done what the liquor couldn't, an' cut out his liver.  You ain't suffered at all, gal.  Toughen up."

"Shush," I shushed Burnside, then to Vernier:  "Please go on."

"After Father died, I took a series of different jobs.  Olaf, you see, was a bit of a simpleton and could not stay employed for long.  Oh, he never meant any harm, but he would break things or forget to show up, or get distracted and not do the work he was hired to do.  So I had to earn enough to feed the both of us.  After going through several different jobs, I was lucky enough to get a well-paying position as a secretary to Duke Rolf Tornmier.  I had hoped the extra money would give Olaf and me a better life, but ... it was a big job.  I got so wrapped up in my new responsibilities, I failed to notice that Olaf had fallen in with a bad crowd.  They were a gang of idlers and ne'er-do-wells who saw my brother as a gullible fool whom they could persuade to do things for their entertainment.  He was always eager to please.  One day these no-good 'friends' of his decided to involve him in an attempted robbery of a nobleman.  It went horribly wrong, and they left Olaf behind to take the blame.  He was arrested, promptly tried, and ... sentenced to hang.  I begged the Duke to pardon him, but to no avail.  Poor Olaf's last words were him screaming about h-how sorry he was.  Right to the end he ... he thought if he sincerely apologized, that would make it all better.  He needed responsible supervision, and ... and I w-wasn't there for him when it c-counted."

"You had to put food on the table," I protested.

"Yes, but even when I t-try to help someone I either fail horribly or ... or make things even w-worse.  My best friend married her abusive b-bastard of a boyfriend, despite all my advice and pleading.  She disappeared for a while, and then ... then when I saw her again she was a miserable shell of her former self.  I once even tried volunteering at an orphanage only for some lunatic b-beaver woman to burn it down.  The list goes on and on ... and now there's this.  M-maybe I should just stop t-t-trying."

At this point Vernier slumped against me and wept incoherently.

"Maybe you should stop tryin' to work Wiles on His Highness with them crocodile tears," Burnside snorted.  "That was the namby-pambyest tale of woe I ever heard.  Why, I've had Tuesdays more miserable than your whole life.  Instead of blubberin' I get busy with my knives an' fix the durn problem."

"Shut it," I said to Burnside as Vernier sobbed and shuddered in my arms.  And yet ... what if the horrid little munchkin had a point?  A shadow of doubt passed over me; lowfolk could lie, after all, so I decided to apply a little bit of Elfmind to find out if Vernier was being completely honest.

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