Private Tales Goodness is the Only Investment that Never Fails

[Elida]

Asta tighten the cord around his young daughter’s head, ensuring the mask was secure as they had many miles to walk today as well. He had braided her hair into a pair of French braids, finally getting her black, thick hair under control. It was hot today, and Asta knew the mask often made her very uncomfortable in the afternoon heat. He wished he could carry her on his shoulders as how he did in much simpler times, but now he was tasked to carry all their supplies, his tools, and sometimes Miria’s favorite doll, Clare.

“Are you ready, Miri?” Asta asked, finishing placing the ransacks and other gear in the perfect place so everything was essentially holding each item up and so nothing would slide off. Asta always hated when he had to stop and readjust. They had to sell their horse, Hachi, but Asta figured that once he got solid work he could always get the old grump back. Although it broke his heart when Miria sobbed for hours on end for losing their friend. It made him feel better that at least her belly had been full each night the last two weeks. The sun was just about to reach over the crest of the horizon now, a warm hue starting to decorate the world and Miria’s white mask. She nodded her head, her blind eye reflecting the light of the rising sun.

Together, holding hands, the father and the daughter proceeded their way down the road, searching for what they hoped would be a home for them, or at least, a place to rest. Castle Merrick. Asta had pulled the wanted poster from the post it had been attached to, and he hoped that his services could be of use. Despite not having much of an education, his late wife had taught him enough of the basics while she was teaching their daughter how to read. Unfortunately, when it came to writing and reading, Asta still relied heavily on Miria to do it for him.

When they arrived at a fork in the road, they both paused, looking both ways.

“Papa, this way,” Miria said confidently, pointing to the left. Asta frowned, pulling out the wanted flyer out and then handing it to Miria, silently asking her to double check. “Yes! See, Papa, three fallen pines,” she said, holding up three fingers and then pointing at the falling trees in the distance. “We’ll be there soon!” She said excitedly, tugging at her father’s comically gigantic hand towards the left, following the left road to where Castle Merrick was supposed to be.

 

[Llewen Merrick]

It had been a few months since Llewen had begun his efforts to reclaim the lands that technically belonged to House Merrick. They'd roughly doubled the amount of actual usable farmland, and thanks to some special helping hands they'd already gotten that land seeded and ready to harvest in a few months' time. Llewen was traveling near one such new acre, up the road from the castle, a natural extension of the farmland he already had before the reclamation efforts began. It was strange; for the first time in so long, Llewen felt like he was actually moving forward. He was always counting all the ways he'd moved forward: Derugonia to help with the crops, Princess Helia's mercy, and granting him the rank of Paladin, and Tabitha, who tended their stable of now 8 horses, each of whom possessed a rider. Llewen also had a few hunters who provided food for the estate, and the pelts they sold were their primary source of income during the cold months.

But there was yet more work to do. They needed more farming families. They needed dedicated traders to travel to Mardus and sell their goods once they were ready. And, of course, they needed a blacksmith, to keep their weapons and armor in good repair, and fashion tools and horseshoes. But such skilled labor was in short supply, and Llewen wondered how many refugees and volunteers they could really find. An issue Llewen hadn't considered with his fliers was that most refugees came from broken families and were often sickly or weak, meaning they weren't exactly ideal laborers. But he was impressed at how people were banding together and helping one another, all for his dream of honoring his father's legacy.

Llewen was riding his mother's horse, Rosemary, a light brown palfrey who had seen him through many years of service now. He still bore the rusted chain shirt and cloth padding beneath for his torso and legs, the faded green and white griffin tabard only adding to the overall worn aesthetic. Up the road, he spotted two figures, which as he neared revealed themselves to be a man and what appeared to be his daughter. The man was carrying a lot of equipment; he immediately thought that this must be someone else new looking for work.

"Hail, stranger," Llewen called out, as he grew closer. "and welcome to the lands of House Merrick. What brings you to my estate?"

 

[Elida]

The sight of a lone person on a horse didn’t give Asta much alarm, after all, it was just one person. Yet, as him and Miria walked further down the road, and the lone rider came closer, knots formed in his stomach. He began taking larger steps, keeping Miria slightly behind him, squeezing her hand twice to let her know that now was the time for her to be alert. Luckily for him, Miria had long learned that anytime they came across another person on the road, Asta wanted her to be alert and so she had been for the last two minutes. Asta had a free hand on the large knot at the center of his chest, ready to drop all of their supplies and to pull out the short sword hidden underneath all the gear on his back. This was all for nothing, especially the moment the rider called out to them… and welcomed them. Asta paused, hearing Miria sigh in awe as they were now meters from the knight.

“I’ve come to see if House Merrick could use my services,” Asta rumbled, looking over at Llewen before looking down at his daughter. The man on the horse probably couldn’t tell but she was beaming, the white mask just hid it really well. He frowned, his daughter usually caused people to stare, after all, her missing forearm often called for attention. “I have this,” he said as he turned his head from Miria to hold up the help wanted flyer, and opened his mouth to speak once again but Miria had decided to speak instead.

“Papa’s a blacksmith! And I am his helper.” She sad in her loudest yet most polite voice. She felt it was a mature voice, one that Mama would use.

“Yes,” Asta mumbled, refraining from sighing. “I am looking for work. For both me and my daughter.” He added, the nicest way to say that they were a packaged deal. “My name is Asta, and hers, Miria. Would you grant us permission to speak to… whoever wrote this?” He didn’t want to show off his illiteracy by bringing the flyer back down for Miria to read and then give him his answer. Although when it came to metalworking, words hardly mattered much.

Llewen Merrick

 

[Llewen Merrick]

One of the consistent quirks of his situation that Llewen kept running into was that many who were showing up to his estate were part of broken families or came entirely alone. He hadn't thought of this when he put up his notice, and to be getting any labor at all was a godsend, so it felt strange for him to be near complaining about such a thing. But housing space was limited and he couldn't keep giving every new stranger who showed up their own living space. This newcomer would be lucky, but they needed to form real families and build more houses for people to live in. But houses took wood, and tools, and they needed someone to make furniture, and furniture needed hammers and nails...

It was enough to give anyone a headache. The day was too young to be thinking of such things. And Llewen had a stranger to deal with.

"House Merrick is always looking for skilled individuals who can be of use," he responded. His palfrey tapped its foot on the ground, clearly displeased with their morning walk having come to an abrupt pause.

Papa’s a blacksmith! And I am his helper.

He couldn't keep calling every time he found exactly what he needed luck considering he didn't have anyone for most essential positions around the castle, but this really would be a godsend to him, if true. Llewen pondered the little girl, though, and his people's safety immediately came to mind. She could be a monster, or bear the plague. He would need to inquire about it, even if it hurt his chances of getting the blacksmith to come aboard, or Llewen might have the unsavory task of turning them away when they had traveled so far on foot.

"I am the one who wrote the notice," he said. "I am Llewen Merrick, the sole member of House Merrick, and this is my estate. House Merrick could use a blacksmith, as we have none at the present, and must purchase most of our tools and supplies, leaving little for other goods or the maintenance of our own weapons and armor. So a blacksmith, and a little helper, would be of great use."

He paused. He must have sounded very cruel when he said what he said next.

"However, though it is not in my condition to turn help away when it is offered freely, I must inquire about your child. Such masks are often worn by those attempting to hide something. I fear most fervently that your daughter might bring a plague upon our house, which would snuff out the flame of House Merrick once and for all if true. I must have your word that you do not bring something like this to Castle Merrick."

It was awkward, for truthfully Llewen wouldn't turn away their help. How could he, in his desperate state? At this point he was mostly keeping up appearances, and he felt silly having said it aloud.

"Should... should it be the case that you bring no hidden fear to my lands, then I will escort you back to my castle and to the old workshop, which has been abandoned for some 6 years now."

 

[Elida]

Asta’s dark brows raised incredibly high with finding out that the young man in front of him was the owner of House Merrick. Things were beginning to click in place for him, noticing the hint of fat still around the lad’s cheeks and taking in the scope of his armor that had most definitely seen better days. At least this meant his services were needed, and drastically so. By what Llewen had said this brought a sense of relief for Asta as it meant he could hopefully negotiate when it came to Miria. Speaking of his daughter, it seemed Llewen was suspicious of her prosthetic mask, which Asta couldn’t blame as it was quite unusual. Even with the young man backtracking and nearly taking back his concerns, Asta figured honesty was the best policy. After all, he was doing this for Miria, not for himself.

“I’m not sick!” Miria huffed, kicking at the dirt with one well-crafted boot. Asta had delved quite a bit with leather work, although he was no artist with it and everything was made to be practical.

“Miri, we’re going to break rules.” Asta murmured softly to his only reason for living. He looked down at his daughter and knelt down, a reassuring smile gracing his features as she turned towards him. He cast his gaze over to Llewen, pausing for a moment as he thought of the best way to say this. “This is us showing you can trust us and expect our loyalty in the future,” he said slowly, turning back to Miria and helping her to undo the clasp of her mask. The one who seemed more upset over it was actually Asta and not his daughter, but of course, how could a child see these deformities affected her for the years to come.

With the mask off, Asta prompted Miria to turn and face Llewen so he could get a better look at her face and see that this was no plague. Her blind eye was milky white, the iris no longer circular but due to abuse, misshapen and parts of the dark iris seemed to have turned blue. The rest of her face wasn’t much better, scars from burns and knife marks marred her fair skin, crisscrossing and raised and red or brown or pink or even a dull purple. To the touch they were rough with lots of texture that gripped the pads of one’s fingers. Her ear was partially missing as well and half of her mouth had scarred so profusely that it was obvious something had slashed through the corner of her mouth up to her cheekbone.

“It was a wild dog attack,” Asta said after a moment, regret clear over his features as he handed back Miria’s mask and helped her situated it over her face as comfortablely as possible. “Her mother died. Protecting her.” More silence ensued, even the chipper Miria unable to speak. “I seek solace for us both, a new beginning. The town we come from harbors many bad memories. In return, I offer my services until my hands break.” Asta said this fiercely, standing up and looking at Llewen resolutely. “Her safety, now and in the future, is my truest concern.

“However, I do request we keep her… secret, a secret. She’s very young.” Another bit of negotiation. Something Asta had to disclose as this was all part of his deal. “I carry many of my equipment, well, as much as a man can carry, and I’d imagine if anything does need to be replaced in the smithery then I most likely already have it or can fix it.” There, the last of his pitch. If anything, this burly man was hoping the scrawny lad in front of him would be willing to accept his deformed daughter if it meant he got his hands on an exceptional blacksmith. There was no plague that came from this father and daughter duo, only regret and secrets.

Llewen Merrick

 

[Llewen Merrick]

Llewen was somewhat bemused that Asta's daughter seemed to have quite a lot of spirit for someone who in all likelihood was hiding a terrible secret beneath the mask that rested on her face. A more experienced knight might have reached for his sword to be careful, but Llewen was young and did not yet see danger at every corner. It would either prove to be his undoing or his salvation.

He winced as Asta revealed Miria's scars. However, he was more concerned with the images her face conjured of what he imagined his parents must have looked like when they were killed and mangled so badly by orcs that his now-steward, then family friend Landis could not even return the bodies to receive a proper burial. It seemed even children could remind him of that terrible day. Of course, with such a young girl Llewen thought of his sister, Margred, who had passed from a fever when she was but 6 years. Though they were only children at the time, he missed her dearly, and that softened his heart to Asta and Miria's plight.

Still, the story about her wounds being from a dog didn't make sense to him, his arm still in bandages after being ravaged by a wolf not too long ago. Yet it was clear that her wounds were grave and she was lucky to have survived whatever it was that happened. Perhaps her mother had died in the same accident? It was only his concern insofar as it affected the safety of his keep, but such masks were not uncommon in these lands or in others, and Llewen saw little issue with these two newcomers in either the short or the long term.

"I won't breathe a word of your secret, for it is not my station to pass such judgments, even being a Knight. But you must be warned that at the moment, House Merrick's lands are not the safest, even with my protection and those few who serve me. We will do our best, of course, but in these lands you must be prepared to defend yourself as well. If that pleases you, then we may discuss your service to me. As we have no dedicated traders at the moment, and I must travel to the capital frequently, any supplies you need will likely need to go through me."

Llewen turned his horse, expecting the two of them to keep pace as his palfrey slowly walked back towards the castle in the distance. He turned to look back at them.

"As you will no doubt soon discover, House Merrick is in a poor state indeed. You will likely need your equipment."

 

[Elida]

“Papa has a sword!” Miria chimed immediately while Asta was still forming his words on how to respond to the fact that this new home he had been searching for was most definitely not what he was hoping for necessarily. Asta frowned but then realized that perhaps it was a good bit of information for Llewen to hear. Although he suspected that Llewen must have realized that Asta had to have some sort of weapon him. After all, traveling alone with a small girl despite his size didn’t mean he was safe from being targeted by nefarious beings.

“Well, we will see,” Asta said in response to Llewen, sidestepping against Miria’s comment. there was silent as the two kept up to Llewen’s pace on his horse, Miria repeating glancing over at Rosemary. She refrained from reaching out to pet the horse as Asta had a firm grip on her hand and she had unfortunately learned too soon the mature sensibility of being quiet.

“Sir… Llewen,” there was hesitation in Asta’s voice as he realized he wasn’t quite sure how to address the man who was quite obviously much younger than him. It worried him, if only because Asta had learned that with age came a lot of experience one needed, although at the same time, he realized that sometimes, age didn’t always matter— trauma could replace age just as easily in that equation. “You’re the sole member of House Merrick?” He echoed, not quite getting to his point just yet but also weary as to how to breech the subject.

“You’ll have to forgive but I feel you’re closer in age to Miria than myself.” Asta’s tone had taken on a unique softness, one that was reminiscent of a father learning the ways of a speaking to children without coming off condescending. “It must be a lonely ordeal to situate such an estate. I hope my services will grant you some peace.” There. Asta was quite pleased with what he said, he felt it was elegant even, almost the way his late wife would have said it. Of course her vernacular was far greater than his but the tone was on par to what she would say.

Llewen Merrick

 

[Llewen Merrick]

While Llewen did find the blacksmith's daughter on the adorable side, he too was focused on business. Things like the joy of a child were something he figured he would need to wait a long time before he was able to experience them for himself. Precious time he didn't have. Maybe it wouldn't always be so busy, but right now, there was no room for it.

You’re the sole member of House Merrick?

"Yes, that's correct," Llewen said curtly. He'd repeated this story many times at this point to the many volunteers who had joined him now, and he was always anxious to get his sad story over with even though it was still too fresh a wound. "My sister died when we were young, and my father and mother were killed by orcs. We are a new House, founded by my father, Gawain Merrick, an adventurer of some renown in The Spine, though from my understanding he is perhaps known more by dwarves than the men of Mardania."

"You have my gratitude for your compassion. It seems many in this land have had their families taken from them, and many of those who have lost so much now serve me. I imagine in time we will continue to see more broken families, and broken men... but perhaps together we can rebuild. Your services as a blacksmith would be greatly appreciated. Tools, horseshoes, and maintenance of arms and armor are all things we need, especially since they are not things we can afford. I will not tax you your work, and whatever materials you need, we will try to make it so. In exchange for your work you may stay at the smithy, which has enough room to house a whole family, and you have my protection as well as those of my men-at-arms. In accepting my service you become bound to this land, and the rights of that land are not something even the Princess herself can take from you. If you need time to think on this, then take as much of it as you need, and you may stay at the smithy in the meantime regardless. Should you decide to leave, on my honor as a Knight I will make sure you are safely returned to wherever you wish. Now, let us return to my castle, where I may show you your workshop."

He continued moving on the road, assuming Asta and Miria would follow. He did have many questions for them, but this wasn't the time to ask them, and like with many who came here, he worried too many questions might drive the help off.

 

[Elida]

Asta frowned upon hearing the tragedy that was Llewen’s Merrick tale of unfortunate events. In his younger days Asta would have scoffed, perhaps even scolded Llewen for the obvious melancholy in his voice. Upon looking down at his daughter and squeezing his daughter’s hand, more so for his reassurance than hers, he felt only sympathy for Llewen. He could understand being a young man and having little idea about how exactly one got to where they were. He was impressed, at the least, that compared to him, Llewen seemed far less of a scoundrel.

“Well, people don’t really move around unless there’s hope of something better,” Asta commented, speaking of himself and the other broken people who most likely came to Castle Merrick in search for a better life. “If anything, I think it’s a compliment for so many people to see this place as one that represents hope.” He continued following Llewen, considering his words. Well, this was a good deal, for the most part, as far as Asta could tell. Perhaps it was Llewen’s genuine demeanor or the fact that he was young, but Asta felt like this young man wasn’t trying to pull one over his head.

“The request about my daughter from before,” Asta said, wanting to make clear once again why he was here, why he had wandered so far with such a young child in the first place. “She is a very capable young lady,” he had to phrase his words carefully here, couldn’t afford to upset Miria now. Or rather, couldn’t afford to ruin her hopes and dreams for the future. “I know I can give you many years of dutiful work. Until my hands break, you shall rely on me for all your metalworking needs but,” another pause, another glance down at Miria. How did one word such a thing as thing. Asta’s shoulders slumped ever slightly. “I’m willing to do anything as long as when I am gone, my daughter will have a home.” There. The best way to say that.

“Papa!” Miria chided, sounding so much like her late mother. “Stop saying you’re going to die. You said that won’t happen for a looooong time!” A soft sigh came from Asta’s lips. At least Miria, despite her maturity, couldn’t comprehend what caused Asta’s trepidation.

“Yes, Miri, I will live a long, long time.” He glanced back up at Llewen, hoping that perhaps he caught the drift that Asta was trying to convey without being obvious. But surely, for an adult, even a young one, it was obvious, was it not? Miria was doomed, marriage was out of the question, and what work could she really do to actually be usefully with only one arm?

Llewen Merrick

 

[Llewen Merrick]

Llewen could sense the concern in Asta's voice as he spoke about his place as well as that of his daughter's. The manner of his speaking was all too familiar to him, and Llewen gleaned that he surely must have lost much to get to the point where he was now, groveling to a penniless knight for work. He seemed honest to Llewen, perhaps even the kind of man he could count on, although time would only tell if he was worth his salt. Still, better to have a mediocre blacksmith than none at all, and he could already feel the gold piling up in his purse from being able to make their own tools instead of buying them in the market. And, new armor and weapons would be essential for them.

Then there was the issue of his daughter. What was Llewen to say? Any other lord might reject them, but he was in no position to given the value of the offer. He tried to speak with some authority, despite his youth and the poor state of his equipment.

"Your daughter is of course welcome to stay, though we are all pragmatists here. It is often the place of a woman here in Mardania to tend to her husband's needs. Perhaps she will serve House Merrick in a way other than physical labor. That task falls to you, unless her health and safety are concerned, in which case she is my charge and I will do everything in my power to protect her. This is the order of things here. We all depend on each other, for otherwise we could not survive this hostile realm. So take heart, Asta, for while a pall hangs over Castle Merrick now, perhaps in time with good men such as yourself we may lift it."

He supposed it was because of his father that such speeches came more naturally to him than others, but he still felt awkward about it. By the time he had finished speaking, they had arrived at the old blacksmith's workshop, which constituted an outdoor forge and a small building which inside had a bedroom and a room for working on crafts. It wasn't much, though, and it was always planned to be expanded later.

"I trust you will find this sufficient?" he asked, tentatively.

 

[Elida]

Asta nodded his head, rather pleased with the response from Llewen. He would make sure to do everything within his power to protect Miria’s future, to ensure that without him, she would be safe. Perhaps with his skills, and the fact that Llewen wasn’t lying about the state of Castle Merrick, this young man would keep his promise, long after Asta’s passing. Looking around the forge, Asta began taking inventory of the place. He looked over at Llewen when asked if it was sufficient.

“Yes,” he murmured, then paused, feeling perhaps he should be more honest. “Well, I’ve seen worse, I think I will need time to get everything up and proper.” He said, moving further into the forge and then beginning to unpack the heavy load off of him. “I do have quite a few things with me already, and I know a thing or two for mending, I’m sure I can make this into a fine place. What do you think, Miria?”

Asta look over, searching for Miria to only find her off in a corner with her back turned toward the men as she knelt down. When she stood back up to look over at her father there was a thin looking black spider with very long legs in her palm.

“Papa, there’s lots of spiders in here!” She said, no fear in her voice but instead that unbridled childlike glee. She walked over as Asta sighed.

“It could be poisonous, Miri, put it outside. Stop picking up bugs, they could bite or sting you.”

“Bugs like me. They won’t bite me.” Minor defiance, although her voice had turned a bit petulant. She looked up at Llewen, her mask covering the hope in her eyes. “Animals and bugs like me because I have a kind heart. They don’t hurt people with kind hearts, right, Mister Sir Llewen… mister Merrick?”

Llewen Merrick

 

[Llewen Merrick]

He felt strangely distant about the little girl's question; no doubt he knew the answer, but was it his place to dash her hopes? Surely her father would say something about it, right? Then again, the question was directed at him, so he did his best to give a satisfactory answer.

"Kind though you may be, little Miria, you will need more than kindness here in Castle Merrick. You need to be strong, too. I'm sure your father can teach you that. Trust him with all your heart--many do not have fathers to guide them, and you should listen so long as he is around."

It was maybe too much for a child, but he couldn't help but feel sorrow about the loss of his own innocence at so young an age, and with no real guidance for nearly 5 years of his life, his teenage years no less. He had the affect and perspective of a person ten years his senior, forced upon him by the obligations of his knighthood. Now wasn't the time to wonder about these things, though, for there was work to be done.

"Asta," he said. "If you can get this up and running today, or tomorrow, we really need a hammer and several nails. One of the farming families has a broken board in their wall they'd like to fix, but we can't afford the tools. We would be in your debt if you could make that. If you need any materials, tell me and I will fetch them so you can work."

 

[Elida]

While Llewen’s response caused Asta to sigh in relief, it caused Miria to frown openly at the knight. One point in Asta’s book. Minus fifty points for Llewen in Miria’s book. She looked down at the spider in hands who kept walking in a straight line so she had to flip her palm over and over so the spider wouldn’t walk elsewhere.

“It’s not a black wibble,” Miria said with a pout, looking down at the spider. “A mommy long legs can’t even hurt humans. And, it’s name will be Bessie. It’s my new pet.” With an exasperated sigh, Asta slammed his palm squarely onto Miria’s, ignoring her yelp of surprise. “Papa you killed it!”

“Go outside and find a nice, large rock. I’ll let you draw a face on it. That can be your pet. You could take it on your adventures around the grounds.” He told his daughter, wiping the spider guts on his pants. Even if the thing couldn’t hurt Miria— he was impressed she knew her spiders but she was a smart girl after all— he still didn’t want her picking up bugs and giving them names that belonged to cattle.

“I’ll get right on it,” Asta said, completely serious now at the task at hand. “I will like to get everything sorted first, but a hammer and nails shouldn’t take me long. I do have some raw materials with me already so I am sure I shouldn’t need anything.” He did take another look around the forge, shoulders slumping slightly. It would take time to clean everything and test to see if everything worked the way it needed to. Already his eyes caught sight of what may needed to be repaired. He realized then that he should probably tell Llewen that there was no need for him to watch over him, that he was sure he was needed elsewhere.

“If you’re busy, Sir, you can attend to those duties. I promise I am capable in my craft. You’ll see by the end of tonight.”

“Can we give Bessie a funeral first?”

Llewen Merrick