Memories
All of my memories Keep you near In silent moments Imagine you here All of my memories Keep you near The silent whispers, silent tears
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...How many?”
“Five more today, milord.”
Amon bit back a groan of despair at the news, weary eyes panning over what he could see of the town through the window. Anxiety twisted his stomach into knots, brow furrowed and hands unable to keep still.
“Any sign of the clerics from Aurumval?”
“Not yet.”
“I sent for them a week ago. They should have been here by now!”
“Patience, milord. The rains have made the roads more difficult to travel. They should arrive any day, now.”
“We don’t have time for patience, Father Girion. My people are dying, and I can do nothing but watch. Have there been any new cases?”
“None in the last three days. We’re containing the spread as best we can.”
The nobleman released a breath in a sharp sigh, tearing himself from the window to pace the room. The priest stood calmly in his place, hands folded beneath the long sleeves of his robe as he watched the lord fret.
“...Who did we lose?”
The question came quietly, laced with fear. The elven priest bowed his head slightly, eyes lowering.
“Ardaniel Woodsparrow. Desmond Valle. Johnathan Farthing. Briella Clairvont. And Belladonna Guivene.”
“Did we not lose a Farthing just two days ago?”
“We did, milord. Johnathan’s wife, Isabelle.”
Amon gave a soft, choked noise, sitting down upon the nearest couch. Silence fell over them yet again, the clock ticking quietly in the background for what seemed like an eternity before the nobleman spoke again.
“...Any children?”
“Briella was but seven. The Farthings leave a daughter, Marie.”
“...Is she ill, too?”
“No. She has thus far escaped the disease, but the Farthings recorded no other relatives. She remains at the temple until we are certain she is not carrying it, and then she will be escorted to the orphanage in Gribank.”
“No.”
“I... Milord?”
“No. I will not have her sent away. This is her home. She must have friends here. And for her to lose her parents and then be sent away to a strange place with strange people... don’t you wonder what that will do to the child? I won’t have it.”
“With all due respect, my Lord Amon, where then will she go? The temple does not have the resources to care for her for any extended period of time, and in the midst of the sickness it will be a strain to find a suitable new family for her,” the priest explained: slowly, gently, as though to avoid drawing the man’s ire.
A beat passed. And then, Amon spoke.
“Here.”
“Your pardon?”
“She will stay here, at the manor. The servant women and I will take care of her. I will educate her in literature and the sciences, and they will educate her in domestic skills. And when she is old enough, her family’s home will be hers, and she will live whatever life she wishes. She has faced grief enough already: she deserves to live in comfort and security, not in loneliness in some dingy orphanage far from everything she’s ever known and loved.”
“My lord... Your heart is thoughtful and compassionate, but I’m not sure that-”
“That wasn’t a request.”
The sudden ice that had entered the lord’s tone took Girion aback, left faintly gaping at the force behind the words. Regathering himself quickly, the priest inclined his head respectfully.
“...Yes, milord. As you command. We will bring the child as soon as she is ready.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...Hello, Marie.”
His voice was as gentle as could be as he knelt before the child, clutching tightly to a stuffed rabbit almost as big as she was. She watched him from behind her toy with wide, nervous eyes, uncertain what to make of him. Her gaze moved to the servant women standing nearby, fawning from a respectful distance, and then to the priest at her side who offered an encouraging smile.
“It’s alright, little one. This is Lord Amon,” the priest informed her, a gentle hand against her back.
“You can just call me Amon. Did Father Girion tell you why you’re here?”
The girl gave the tiniest of nods, tightening her grip on the toy.
“...He said I have to live here now,” she said, her voice as small and meek as she was.
“That’s right. We’re going to take good care of you, I promise,” he told her, adjusting his posture to sit on the floor in order to be even less threatening to the poor dear.
“...But I want my Mom and Dad. I wanna go home.”
Amon swore he heard his own heart shattering at the words, forcing himself to keep his composure and fight the sting of tears at the back of his eyes as he watched her own trace down her cheeks.
“Oh, sweetheart, I know... I know,” he murmured, extending an arm to coax her over into his side. She practically collapsed into his chest, beginning to cry loudly as he held her. “I wish I could give you your Mom and Dad back. But you know what? They’re always going to be with you.”
He tapped a finger to her chest, cradling her to him with his other arm. “They’ll always be right here, in your heart. They’ll keep watching over you, and they’re going to be so proud of how brave you are. We’re going to make this your new home, and we’re going to love you and take care of you, from now on. I promise.”
He scooped her up into his arms as he rose to his feet, cradling the girl and letting her sob into his jerkin. He rubbed her back in soothing circles with one hand. A polite nod dismissed the priest, and the servants began to scatter back to their duties: one stating in a whisper that she’d fetch the poor child a cup of water to receive a nod of approval.
“It’ll be alright, Marie. I promise,” he murmured, turning to carry her to the sitting room. “Do you like dogs? I’ve got three, and they’d very much like to meet you.”
He felt her nod, bringing a soft, sad smile to his lips. He quietly asked one of the lingering servants to bring the hounds to them. He had a feeling he knew just how to cheer her up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...How is she?”
“She’s... doing as well as one can expect of her, m’lord,” the maid offered, sympathy in her voice as she looked back into the servant’s quarters where one of the oldest of the housemaids was tucking the little girl into bed.
Amon nodded, inhaling slowly. He hadn’t been surprised when she’d decided to stay down here: the other rooms were very large and very lonely, for such a small child. Even with the offer of letting any of the dogs stay with her if she wished it, she still wanted to be with the women.
“Might I... talk to her, yet?” he asked, licking his lips a little nervously.
“Of course, m’lord,” the maid conceded, stepping aside and gesturing to let him in. He hadn’t been in the servant’s quarters, before. There was an awkwardness to him as he entered, feeling very much like an intruder as he wandered over to the girl’s bed.
“May I sit down?” he asked gently, gesturing to the end of the bed. She gave the meekest of nods, holding her rabbit a little tighter as he eased down into the empty space.
“Hi, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long and difficult day, and I’m sure you’re tired, huh?” he said, getting another nod in answer as Marie rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I thought so. But before you go to sleep, I just want to tell you something, okay? I know it hurts a lot right now, but... it won’t hurt this bad forever. Your mom and dad will always be your mom and dad, and you will always love them, and miss them, but it won’t always hurt this bad. We’re here for you now. I know it’s going to be scary at first. It’s okay to be upset, and scared, and to miss your parents. I don’t want you to feel bad for that, okay? You can cry as much as you need to. You’ll be safe here. You’ll be part of a second family, now.”
He reached across to take her hand, gently as he could, and held it firm.
“I know I’m not your Dad, and I’m not going to try and replace him. I know you don’t know me very well, and you won’t ever have to call me Dad if you don’t want to. But I promise to protect you and teach you like he did. I’m going to be here for you. We’re all going to be here for you.”
The child slowly turned her gaze up to him, then around to the housemaids who offered nods of agreement and encouragement.
“...Promise?” she asked, her voice small as she looked once again to Amon.
“I promise.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Noticing the way Marie stared down at her plate, Amon set his fork aside.
“What’s the matter, dear?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern as she looked up at him.
“How come we eat here, and everybody else has to eat in our room?” she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. He was somewhat taken aback for a moment, blinking.
“Well, that’s... that’s simply how it’s done, dear. Servants and nobles don’t eat together.”
“But that’s not fair! There’s lots of space here, and it’s just us. Why does it have to stay like that?” she cried, puffing out her cheeks.
“I know it isn’t fair,” he said gently, trying to choose his words carefully. “Sometimes... sometimes things happen that aren’t fair, and we have to learn how to deal with it.”
“But why can’t we change it? Why can’t they sit with us?” she protested. “I don’t want to just deal with it. It’s a stupid rule.”
She returned to glaring at her plate as he struggled for an answer, crossing her arms over her chest. Finally, he sighed.
“...You’re right, sweetheart. There is a lot of space here, and they’re your family now, too. You should be able to sit with all of your family. Starting tomorrow, we’ll let them sit here at the big table too. Okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Amon!” the girl cried, flinging herself into his arms with a laugh. She nearly knocked him over from the force of the impact, staggering the nobleman. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm, picking her up to carry her back up the remaining half of the walkway to the manor.
“Oof, you’re getting big, my dear. Soon I won’t be able to carry you anymore,” he remarked, a teasing grin on his face as he did his best not to trip over the dogs as they crowded about his legs.
“You’re lying. You’ll always be able to carry me! You can wrestle a bear, and I’m not gonna be as big as a bear!” she retorted, clinging to the fur collar of his cloak.
“Have the girls been telling you stories again? I think they’ve been exaggerating,” he answered, giving the nearest housemaid a lightheartedly-accusing look as she closed the door behind them. Marie just giggled.
“Noooo,” she sang, rather unconvincingly.
“Well then, if you say so. Now what have you been up to while I was gone?”
“Gabriella took me to the market yesterday! They had all kinds of stuff there. Miss Barlow had fresh blueberry pies, but we didn’t get one. Gabi said it would be better to make our own, so she showed me how to make one this morning!” she announced, straightening up in his grasp.
“Did you now? I thought you smelled suspiciously of blueberries,” Amon teased.
“Well you smell like a bear. Gross!” she shot back, earning a very fake gasp of shock. He feigned a wounded look, resting his free hand to his chest.
“Marie! That’s not very nice,” he chided her, though he found himself unable to put any real sternness into it. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Well you do. And you’re not getting any of the pie until you have a bath.”
“My goodness, I thought I was supposed to be parenting you, little miss sassy pants, not the other way around!”
She stuck her tongue out at him a second time, making a fart noise. He responded by leaning in to blow a raspberry against her cheek, earning a squeal as she squirmed and laughed trying to shove him off.
“Amon, stoooooooooop!”
“Oh I don’t think so. I think you’ve earned a visit from the tickle monster!”
“Noooooooo!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...minus seven, is... eighty-five?”
Amon’s patient smile broadened, nodding. “Right! Now, what happens if we add parentheses here?” he asked, writing the edited equation in the empty space on the paper.
“Then we have to do the subtraction first,” she answered confidently, though she still looked up at him for affirmation.
“Exactly. Now, let’s see-” he was interrupted by a knock at the doorframe, both nobleman and child glancing up to give the servant their attention.
“Lunch is served,” the maid announced. Marie set her materials aside with a cry of “yay!” as she hopped off the couch, scampering past her down the hall to head down to the dining room. Amon couldn’t help but chuckle as he, too, rose to his feet, adjusting his cloak.
“Right on time, as always,” he commented, watching her go.
“Of course, Lord Amon. How goes her studies?”
“Very well. She has a good sense for math: she’s learning it much faster than I did as a youth. Well... then again, I suppose that isn’t saying much,” he muttered, the woman matching his gait to follow just slightly behind at his side as he left the study to make his way to the dining room himself.
“...Forgive me if I am speaking too boldly, but I believe you are too hard on yourself, my lord,” she said softly.
“I... appreciate the thought, Tova. Please excuse me. I shouldn’t leave Marie waiting at the table.”
“Of course, Lord Amon.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sensation of something beneath his foot made him halt, stepping back and turning his attention from his book to see what he’d stepped on. A shard of pottery stared back at him, and the housemaid moved quickly to grab it.
“I’m so sorry my lord, I tried to clean this up as quickly as-”
“How did it break?” he asked calmly, moving the ribbon bookmark to his current page as he closed the novel. Her hesitation, stuttering a few times as she struggled to come up with an answer she felt appropriate, gave him all the information he needed.
“Mm. Leave it for now. And bring Marie up here.”
“...Yes, my lord,” she conceded, leaving her brush and dustpan where it lay to retreat down the stairs. He waited until she returned with the girl in tow, Marie hiding behind her as best she could.
“Marie,” he addressed her, his voice level, “did you break the vase?”
Clutching to the housemaid’s dress, she blurted out her answer: “It was an accident! I was playing tug with Samson and Valkyrie and Samson bumped into the stand and it fell over and broke, I didn’t mean to!”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But what did we learn?”
“...Be more careful?”
“And?”
She looked down at the floor, reciting her lesson quietly. “Be mindful of your surroundings. Don’t let excitement make you careless.”
“Very good. Now what else should you have done after the vase broke?”
Her head dropped further, her fingers wringing the maid’s dress. “I should have told you right away, and said sorry, and helped clean it up.”
“That’s right. Why didn’t you?” he asked, never raising his voice.
“...I was scared you’d get mad at me.”
He hesitated a moment, considering this answer as his throat tightened. “I’m... I’m sorry that I made you feel scared, Marie. I’m more upset that you didn’t say anything when you broke it than I am that you broke it at all,” he finally said, kneeling to her level and setting the book aside. He reached out to her, beckoning her over. “Come here, please.”
A nudge from the maid, and she came over to let him pull her in for a hug. She clung to his jerkin in response, burying her face into his shoulder.
“I forgive you, sweetheart. It’s okay. I won’t ever stop loving you. Everyone makes mistakes, but what’s really important is what we do to fix them. So I want you to help clean this up, and to be more careful from now on. Is that fair?”
She nodded slowly. “Okay... I love you, Amon.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“...Amon? Can I come in?”
The soft voice brought him from his contemplation of the rug, swiftly brushing the moisture from his eye and clearing his throat.
“Yes, dear.”
She pushed the door open further to slip through it, padding across the room to sit down next to him. She searched his face for a moment, finding he would not meet her gaze, before she spoke.
“Miss Germaine looked really upset when she left. Is... everything okay?” she asked tentatively. He took a deep breath that shook in his chest.
“...Miss Germaine and I aren’t going to see each other anymore.”
“Why not?” Marie asked, sounding surprised. He slowly put an arm around her, resting his chin on her head as he pulled her in for a hug.
“...Sometimes, even if you like someone very, very much, it’s... not good for you to stay with them. And... Miss Germaine doesn’t think it’s good for us to stay together. So she broke up with me, and she’s not going to visit anymore,” he explained, struggling to control his voice and keep it from cracking.
“Oh... Is that why we don’t see Miss Charlotte anymore, either?”
“...Yes.”
There was a moment of silence as he held on to her, her head against his chest as she listened to him breathe.
“Please don’t be sad, Amon. I still love you. And I’m gonna stay here, forever and ever,” she promised, squeezing him as tight as she could manage. He returned her hug, the tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Thank you, sweetheart. I love you, too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was a lull in conversation as they ate, content in a good day and a very nice dinner. After a sip of his wine, Amon glanced over at his adopted daughter to casually drop a question.
“Sooo, who’s Joseph?”
The girl sat up straight, pink staining her cheeks. “N-nobody. Just somebody we met at the market.”
“Is that so? Just a nobody you see at the market every time you go?”
Marie pursed her lips, shooting Gabriella an accusing glare. The maid pretended not to notice, casually buttering a dinner roll as she ignored the look.
“He’s Miss Barlow’s son, and he helps her with the bakery, so he’s there almost every day. That’s all,” she finally protested, though the blush still flared across her cheeks as she stuffed a piece of potato in her mouth.
“Ah, I see. So I suppose he’s not responsible for those yellow tulips you brought back today,” Amon replied, cutting himself another bite of steak.
“Gabi!” Marie whined, puffing out her cheeks as she pouted at the now-giggling servant woman across the table. The other women were doing their best to hide their own amusement, so all she could do was huff in annoyance.
“I’m just teasing you, dear,” Amon assured her, though he was still grinning. She stuck out her tongue at him, which only served to incite more giggles. She wasn’t going to live this one down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Ladies, please-”
“I’m sorry, Amon, but we can’t stay here anymore. Whatever that- that thing is that’s been tormenting us, it killed Brutus. Who knows what it could do to one of us, next! We’re leaving,” Tova announced, pushing past him to lead the other servants out.
“Marie?” the man called after the group, desperation in his voice as the teen stopped to look in his direction. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, clutching her own pack.
“...I’m sorry, Amon, but I’m scared. I don’t want to stay here anymore either.”
“Marie...”
“I’m sorry. I love you, but- but Tova’s right. And if you’re not leaving then I have to go with them.”
All he could do was gape after them as the other ladies nudged her along with them, filing out the door. The thud as the great wooden door shut was final and echoing in the now-empty vestibule, leaving him completely, utterly, alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had to be here somewhere! The girl searched desperately through the stacks of paper and books, flipping over every envelope for the one she needed. She was shocked and ashamed that she’d left without it. Amon had sent it to have the chain repaired, the hinge replaced, and the locket itself polished: it had to be in the mail, it had to.
Finally, the corner of a small, thick envelope caught her attention. Snatching it up, she checked the packaging, and exhaled loudly in relief. Tearing it open, she pulled out the locket and freed it from where the chain had been neatly wrapped about a square of parchment. Clutching it to her chest, she darted back out of the room. She had what she needed, now she needed to get out of here.
When she’d realized the locket was gone, she’d panicked. She’d begged the others to go back with her to find it, but they were all too frightened to do so. They’d pleaded with her not to go back.
She couldn’t bear leaving it. It was all she had left to remember her parents. So in the middle of the night, she’d snuck out of the tavern, mounted one of their horses, and rode back as fast as the beast would take her. She’d get her locket and then return to them. She’d be fine.
Darting across the room, a sound behind her made her turn her head as she took the first step down the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The servant girl’s name was Isabella Farthing I believe... from a locket of some sort she carried. Lord Amon-”
He’d stopped listening, his brain scrambling. The adventurers he’d hired had been killed. This group had found Fontane’s body. And one of his servants was dead. But-
“Isa- oh... oh, gods,” the realization made his blood run cold. Isabelle Farthing was Marie’s mother, and they’d pulled the name from her locket. He pressed a hand over his lips, holding back the scream that threatened to burst from his throat. “Marie... oh, Pelor above, please, not Marie...”
The woman sat down beside him in the grass, settling her tiny snake companion in her lap before she reached out to him, moving to lace her fingers with his and hold his hand.
“I’m sorry this is so difficult for you,” she said softly. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
His eyes burned with tears that began to pool in the corners, his throat seizing with a scream he couldn’t release. It couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. It had to be a mistake.
“...I practically raised Marie...” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He stared down at the grass, shaking his head slowly. “Why did she go back? She should have been with the other girls. She should have been safe...”
His throat seized again, inhaling a silent gasp before he turned his gaze up to meet that of the woman beside him. Butterscotch eyes met his, unreadable as they began to blur in his vision from his own tears.
“...This is my fault, isn’t it?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’d been trying to avoid the thought. He didn’t want it to be true. But as the manor loomed closer, the weight in his chest only grew. And now, as he sank to his knees before the sheet-wrapped remains of the young girl, the reality of it finally began to take hold. His hands shook as he reached for her, pulling the bundle into his arms. It didn’t even feel like a person in there, anymore. A sob tore itself from his chest, and he finally allowed himself to weep: grieving loudly, openly, over what was left of his sweet, precious little girl.
His precious little girl: the one he’d promised to protect and to love, with all that he had. The one he’d taught to read, to write, to solve equations and to manage finances. The one he’d tried to guide to be kind, honest, gentle, and dignified. The one he’d vowed to give the best life possible.
But he had failed her.
And his Marie was gone.
