Chapter 62 - An Aging Father's Love

“Gordius! Where are you boy? Why are there ten crates of sunflower seed oil collecting rainwater on the floor with a perfectly fine wagon waiting to cart them away?”

Merchant Lornius Interspinus’ harsh voice rang out from the receded archway at the far end of the store, interrupting the children’s animated banter. Beyond the humble swinging doors that hung from there walls there, lay a warehouse that simply beggared the scale of the front store. Even now and in spite of the heavy rain, Skyle was certain that there would be several wagons busily loading and unloading crates of goods.

Skyle raised an eyebrow in Fatty’s direction. Sure, his friend loathed physical work, but he was also very careful not to let his father catch him idling. Whereas Fatty’s notoriety came from his cunning, even devious mind, his father was a whole different creature altogether.

Lornius Interspinus had started out as the eighth son in a tiny speck of a farmstead in the neighboring province of Gellen. When he was but seven, he had been sold off into a so-called apprenticeship that had been little more than indentured slavery under the local tanner’s shop. Underneath the fancy jeweled rings he was now known for, Merchant Lornius still bore countless discolored scars on the skin of his hands. Tannery shops, especially poor ones such as the one Fatty’s father had been sold off to, could only afford the harshest of acids to break down the hides they worked on. Worse still, the workers wore no protection at all, and thus their health suffered greatly under the harsh conditions.

Most tannery apprentices were bald before their time, their faces pockmarked and their lungs feeble from the noxious fumes they breathed day in and day out. Few made it past their fifties before they succumbed to some malady or the other.

This had been Lornius Interspinus’ lot in life, and sadly he had not been born with the wit or the education that would have afforded someone like Fatty a chance to weasel his way out from such a harsh fate. Instead, Lornius was a neither dull nor bright, not too ugly or handsome. He easily fell right into the middle of any crowd, not being tall or short, skinny or fat.

If that was everything Lornius had to his name, that would have been the end of his tale and Skyle would have never heard of yet another pitiful tanner’s boy whose sole pleasure in life would be to drown his sorrows in ale to numb the aching joints of his prematurely arthritic hands.

There was one sole redeeming quality that was absolutely not ordinary in Fatty’s father, however. It was this that made him one of the few people Skyle’s own father, Kendric Farrow, actually held a grudging respect for. Whenever Skyle lay on the ground drowning in his own sweat and miserable tears after a particularly grueling training session, Kendric would once again launch into the tale of Lornius Interspinus’ one redeeming quality.

Perseverance.

He never quit.

It was widely agreed that half of every tannery worker’s free time was spent drowning their brains in alcohol at the local drinking hole. It was the only release for their pent up frustrations and grievances at their sad lot in life. After all, not only were their bodies breaking down right in front of their eyes on a daily basis, but the awful stink of the dead animal hides and the potent acids they worked with made it so no one outside of their profession could bear to stand in the same room. Women fled from them and children were told they would end up sold to the tanner's shop when they misbehaved. Truly, it was a sad existence where only the drunken stupor of alcohol offered some pale semblance of comfort.

Not so for one Lornius Interspinus.

It was rumored that Merchant Lornius had never touched a drop of spirits nor a pint of ale in his entire life. When all his friends and co-workers sauntered off to their daily debaucheries, Lornius would stay behind well into the night and clean up the shop for a handful of extra coppers. When the others bought a roasted leg of mutton at a cart, Lornius chewed the same sandy bread that cost a single copper. When they grew older and could afford to buy a woman, Lornius used his own money to bribe the local scribe’s apprentice into teaching him his letters.

This is where the hero of a story would find his sudden rise, the reward for his long years of suffering. In real life, however, there was no such redemption. For 23 long, arduous years, Lornius toiled and broke his back and sweated under the toxic fumes of the tanner’s shop and the mockery of his friends.

Only on the day he reached his 30th birthday, did Lornius suddenly throw a handful of coins at the tannery owner’s feet. Every eye in the room had bulged when they saw the golden glint of the coins, gasping at wealth that seemed out of their reach for their entire lives.

Little did they know, that was a mere fraction of Lornius’ funds. He had patiently endured all these years until he finally had enough money to buy not only his own freedom, but also a new start in life. The cost of this latter and more important investment had taken far longer than his pitiful apprenticeship fees.

The money was spent on new clothes and sturdy boots, but the main portion of it went toward a well placed bribe to a local merchant who was known for placing profits before his own honor. The last of Lornius’ coin bought him a stamped letter of recommendation from said merchant and a wagon ride over the provincial border and into Lacrima, where no one knew of the tanner’s boy who had finally bought his freedom after 23 long years.

The letter and his bearing barely earned him a position as a lowest starting clerk in a small trading firm. There Lornius quickly became known for having no vices nor virtues except for being the most hard working clerk that had ever graced the payroll of the trading house.

Always first to arrive before the crack of dawn, and last to leave, long after the moon had risen, Lornius Interspinus slowly and steadily rose up the ranks. He seldom managed to excel at any of the tasks assigned to him, but he never fell short either. Where others might depend on four portions of talent, four of effort and two of luck, Lornius’ rise could be broken down into two parts talent and ten parts effort. Luck had never bothered to smile upon Lornius Interspinus.

Now well into his fifties, Merchant Lornius was still as industrious as ever. The fact that he was already one of the wealthiest men in Sunny Meadow did not seem to matter at all. Only his failing health prevented him from working from dawn till dusk, no doubt a product of all the harsh substances he had been exposed to during his earlier years.

Parents, Skyle had come to realize, seemed to project their own regrets into their offspring, leading them to overcompensate. Case in point, Fatty was obscenely obese and wreathed in expensive silks and extravagant jewelry. Few luxuries were ever denied to Lornius’ only son, and though his girth was alarming, Skyle knew that Fatty was as healthy as a bull. Countless expensive medicines and treatments had seen to that.

In the same token, however, Lornius made Fatty pay for his luxuries, pound for pound, in hard work at the trading floor. It was fortunate that Fatty had taken to the burgeoning accounts of “Interspinus & Son” like a fish to water. His head for numbers and figures was simply unmatched by anyone of Skyle’s acquaintance, except perhaps for the terrifying genius of the Farrow family, little Kass.

Certainly, it could not be denied that Gordius' father possessed none of the remarkable mental gifts of his son. The differences between father and son were so great that many a loose tongue had speculated on whether they were truly blood related at all. Still, none of this made Lornius treat his son any worse. If anything, it only seemed to spur the merchant to spoil his only son even more - though he did so in his own peculiar way.

Speak of the devil, Merchant Lornius pushed past the warehouse’s swinging door with thunderclouds brewing on his brow.

“Well, boy? I thought I told you to load those oil crates. They’re expected at Thistletown by tomorrow and no rain or hail will make Interspinus miss a delivery, or so help me boy, I’ll have you hauling the crates on your own back. First you misplaced that shipment from the Attawan Plains, then you got it into your silly head to rush to your death in the belly of some feral beast out in the forest. It seems I’m not working you hard enough yet. Should I add some more tasks so that we can ground that flighty head of yours?”

Fatty turned to his father with a nervous smile, but his next words were rattled off without any hesitation at all.

“Not at all, father. The cart for Four Points Town is set to arrive later this afternoon. 265 bottles of sunflower oil can be diverted from Thistletown’s order as their stock during the last four months as only been depleted by 67.5%. The surplus in their inventory of 640 bottles has driven the prices down and I suspect the local competition is involved. If we lower this month’s supply by 265 bottles and next month’s supplies by 40%, I expect prices will rise once again by the next quarter without any negative effect upon our own firm’s image.”

It all came out as smoothly as though it had been rehearsed in advance, which it most likely was. However, Skyle knew only the words had been prepared. The figures had been a snap calculation that came as naturally to Fatty as breathing.

Fatty had near perfect recollection of anything he read or heard. It was ridiculous to the point where the plump little merchant prince only kept written accounts as a formality. He hardly ever checked the figures when an inquiry arrived, spouting off mind-boggling numbers at a confounding rate.

The scowl on Merchant Lornius’ face lightened up a little. “What about Four Points Town?”

Fatty spread his hands as he smiled ingratiatingly at his father. “Rumor has it that the Hirane Ale and Sausage Festival’s main organizer, Jayed Pineoak, quarreled with Walden Town’s mayor. Four Points Town’s mayor took advantage of that to step in. The festival will be opening there next month.”

“I’ve heard of no such thing,” Lornius muttered under his breath, but the lines on his forehead eased even further.

“That’s to be expected, father. The mayor was caught entertaining Madam Pineoak in a rather, shall we say, indiscrete fashion. Mister Pineoak was furious and will be looking to get even by moving the whole festival without so much as a warning. Only by next week will the word be spread to the masses. By then, Walden Town’s mayor will be left footing an astronomical bill for a festival no one will be attending.” Fatty sighed as he shook his head. “Silly man, he’ll be losing at least 30% of his profits from the added expenses and missed revenue from the sudden change of venue. If it was me, I’d simply hold the festival at Walden Town, secretly sabotage the entire affair and place the blame squarely on its mayor’s incompetence. I’d be laughing all the way to Four Points Town and the real festival I’d hold there, all the while my pockets would be heavy with the compensation fees. The publicity from the scandal alone would draw the biggest crowds the festival has ever seen. Ah, amateurs.”

Fatty shook his head sadly while Skyle squirmed uncomfortably at his friend’s shamelessness.

“Why are you telling me this only now, boy?” Lornius demanded gruffly.

“Because they were only rumors until yesterday. Only then did I receive actual confirmation. Don’t worry father, I have already taken the liberty of diverting supplies from our other warehouses. I fully expect the Inns and taverns of the area, not to mention all the food cart vendors, will be looking to stock up in basic cooking supplies. A conservative projection forecasts an increase of at least 300% in demand in the next month. Accounting for the extra labor to move all the stock around our different warehouses in order to keep up with our regular orders, a tidy profit of 2,350 golds should be in our coffers by the end of the festival.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good then.” Lornius nodded as though to himself, and his face was obviously struggling not to break out into a proud smile. Skyle couldn’t help but smile himself as he saw that even the gruff looking owner of “Interspinus & Son” had vulnerable moments when his paternal love and pride gushed through the cracks of his weathered face.

“Still, that’s no reason to be casually lounging on your indolent ass cheeks and prattling your tongue off during a deluge like this.” Just like that, Lornius’ mask was back on and the scowl returned in full force. “Off with you, boy. The warehouse workers at gate three need an extra hand to unload the barley from Windmere Keep before the water gets through and it becomes a soggy mess.”

Fatty’s smug grin was instantly wiped away, and dismay dragged at his features. This, Skyle knew, was the reason Fatty had been so nervous when he heard his father’s call.

“Well boy? The crates won’t unload themselves. Now hustle!” Lornius barked, and Fatty groaned as he obediently stood up and trudged towards the swinging door of the warehouse.

Turning around at the last moment to wave to Skyle, Fatty’s face looked as miserable as if he were about to walk through the Maw of Hell itself. “Candied corn is right there, Skyle. I’ll be seeing you if I survive the next hour.”

“Hours,” Merchant Lornius corrected instantly, his tone flat.

“Hours,” Fatty echoed with a haunted look on his face, before dragging his feet across the warehouse’s doors with slumped shoulders and a defeated gait.

Lornius’ gaze turned to Skyle next, but the scowl was completely gone. It had been replaced by the kindly smile that the merchant only showed when Fatty himself was not around.

“Glad you dropped by, Skyle. I’d heard from your father that you were back safe and sound. It is good that you are well, but you must really refrain from worrying your parents so,” Merchant Lornius nodded to Skyle in acknowledgement. “Usually, I don’t mind you keeping Gordius company. In fact, I’m grateful for it, as you’re a good influence on my lazy son. Still, right now he’s being punished for the latest foolhardy escapade he nearly pulled off. Do return later, won’t you?”

That last was accompanied by a wink and a conspiratorial grin, and Skyle couldn’t help but nod and smile back in return.

“Oh, before you leave, I believe my son was trying to sneak that package over there into your hands. It was meant for the son of Lord Altur, but somehow it became inexplicably 'lost'. The compensation fees cost my son a pretty penny from his own savings and I gave him such a scolding for ‘losing’ the package that I boxed his ears until he looked more like a donkey than the fattened boar he usually resembles.”

As Skyle picked up the package in question and felt the weight in his hands, his heart instantly sped up along with his excited breathing.

Hurriedly unwrapping the package, Skyle stared as sudden tears threatened to burst from his eyes.

A gentle hand came to rest upon Skyle’s shoulders, and Lornius’ voice came from his side in a surprisingly soft tone.

“It cost him well over six months’ salary and even then, they’re usually sold out long before they reach our province’s markets. I had to give him a fierce talking to and an even harsher punishment, but seldom have I been so proud of my little boy.”

Skyle’s trembling hand carefully unfolded the oilskin package and held up the contents to his eyes. His gaze feasted upon the item that had been the stuff of dreams for the past year or so. Even then, he knew how difficult it was to acquire, and so it had remained a dream.

Lornius’ jeweled fingers gently wiped some of the moisture away from Skyle’s cheeks. “Don’t let it get wet before you have a change to wax it properly, son. I’m sure you know better than me how to properly care for it. Attawan bowstrings are worth their weight in gold, but only if you properly care for them.”

Skyle nodded numbly as he ran his disbelieving fingers over the bowswing coiled within his hand. The texture was surprisingly smooth, its grain so fine even though Skyle knew countless threads of sturdy sinew had been woven into it. So masterful was its crafting that it felt like a single string. The heavy heft of it in his hands alone told Skyle how valuable it was, but the weight upon his own heart was incomparably heavier.

Skyle noticed that the package had already been opened, and a short length of the bowstring was already waxed. Recalling Fatty’s feigned indifference when Skyle had first walked into the store, the small boy finally realized that his friend had likely been waxing the bowstring at the time. Likely, he had been preparing the gift when Skyle had stumbled in, and Fatty’s uncharacteristically poor act of indifference had been because he had been flustered in fear that the package would be found before he was ready.

Skyle felt ashamed that he had thought Fatty was simply trying to disguise the heavy labor the merchant’s son had been subjected to as punishment. Maybe it was only fair that Skyle had made the assumption, for few people knew better than he did just how much Fatty abhorred physical labor.

Long hours hauling heavy crates was no easy task, especially for one in as poor a physical condition as Fatty. In spite of all that, his friend had still painstakingly been waxing this bowstring. Doing so was a time-consuming, taxing task that strained your patience as much as your stamina.

“Gordius will likely be upset that I ruined his surprise, but his fingers are already weak enough with the tasks he handles in the warehouse. I’m afraid he might botch the job in his eagerness to present the gift to you as soon as possible, but he’s too proud to ask for my help. I wonder where he gets that from,” Lornius sighed, scratching his beard.

Skyle shook his head as he clutched the package in his hands to his chest.

Smiling in approval, Lornius gave the little boy an encouraging pat on the back.

“Don’t feel bad, Skyle. In some ways, you’re even more remarkable than that old fox that is your father. What I said earlier were not just empty words. You are a true blessing in my son’s life.”

Skyle’s confusion must have been obvious on his face, as Lornius’ smile was one of chagrin as he explained.

“Little Gordius is clever, sometimes too clever for his own good. I worry that life has become all too easy for him. Already, you can see how he twists the lives of the people in town around his little fingers as though they were his playthings. I may be old, but I’m not blind nor deaf, Skyle. I know of Gordius’ reputation, and I know that they’ve been downplayed, if anything.”

Skyle nodded in rapt silence, as he had never seen such depth in Lornius Interspinus’ craggy exterior.

“Little does my son know, victory is not everything in life. At times, adversity is more precious than any amount of success. This precious bit of wisdom, I have earned with long years of my own suffering.”

Shaking his head and sighing deeply, Lornius’ eyes became lost in the distance. He seemed to be gazing far into the past, to memories that were still vivid though the river of time had washed so many other things away.

“I know why Gordius has no friends except for you, Skyle. He looks down on everyone and everything. Truthfully, half the time I can barely keep up with my own son. Already, he’s running my own business twice as well as I ever could during my best days. I can barely hold on to my authority as his father to try to guide and nurture him as best I can. Sadly, I know I’m figting a losing battle. Time waits for no one. He’s fast approaching a point where he will realize that his old man is just that, nothing but an old man left behind by the times and with nothing to his name but a few stacks of gold and one son to carry on his legacy.”

Skyle jumped up at that, shocked at the revelation that Merchant Lornius, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in town, could have such a vulnerable side too.

Lornius shook his head, a wry, self-deprecating smile on his face.

“You may look upon me as Lornius Interspinus, the wealthy man who built up his own successful mercantile company from nothing but dirt and the rank stink of hides at a tannery shop in some speck of a village. Most everyone in Sunny Meadow does. Only rare individuals like your father can see past all that, and truly see and weigh an individual for what really matters.”

“These are just trinkets,” Lornius continued, lifting his hands in front of Skyle’s face. Each of his fingers bore rings encrusted with precious stones that glittered with dazzling light. “Just like the thin veneer of civilization all men bear in the grand masquerade that is life in our cultured society. I know you don’t understand now, but you will someday. Your father will see to that. He’s a great man, your father, and like all such great men, he bears a great many secrets. Like I said, time waits for no one. Your latest accident has likely served as an ungentle reminder that the time is fast approaching when your father’s mask will fall away as well.”

Skyle gazed at Lornius’ gravely face, still incomprehending.

Lornius sighed deeply and shook his head. “I’m becoming maudlin in my old age, young Skyle. I have spoken too much. Let me just say that I am grateful that little Gordius has friends like you by his side, especially in the dark times that lie ahead. Please, look after my son. He may be smart, but his heart is willful and foolish. Much as I’ve tried my very best, I’m afraid I’ve been far more remiss in looking after my own son than your father has been with you.”

Skyle looked down briefly at Fatty’s precious gift that still lay clutched tightly in his hands. “Sir, I’m afraid it is mostly Gordon who looks after me rather than the other way around.”

Lornius smiled condescendingly at Skyle, as though he were indulging a child’s sweet innocence. For once, Skyle did not mind at all. He really felt lost and confused as a small child right now.

“Coins and rare items, no matter how costly they may be, are in the end mere trinkets. The true gifts between men are the compromises they make for each other, and the lasting mark they leave upon another’s life. Remember that, boy.”

Skyle nodded, feeling like the words contained a profound truth that he could not fully grasp yet.

Lornius smiled with a satisfied look upon his face. “You’re a good kid, Skyle. If I say I’m proud of my little Gordius, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to how your old man feels about you. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking otherwise just because we old men are too foolish to say it ourselves.”

“I know, sir.” Skyle answered calmly. At least this much, Skyle did know. Even though his father might bemoan the callous nature of the cruel fate which had saddled him with three insufferably lazy, spoiled and dull children, Skyle knew that deep down Kendric Farrow loved each of his children to pieces. This simple truth held even more strongly for Skyle.

Most siblings would always wonder and argue as to who was the favorite among their parents’ children. Even the Farrow children had done so many times, each arguing their case in the face of the others’ skeptical doubts.

Skyle, however, secretly harbored a deep, steady assurance that he was, in fact, the favorite child. This belief held true with both his father and his mother. There were many clues to the fact, and his parents had never really overtly favored him over their other children. In fact, Kendric Farrow would constantly tell each of his children, both in private and out in the open, that they were his one and only favorite child. Adrienne Farrow, in the other hand, never took sides and always displayed her unconditional love towards each of her children in equal portions.

Still, Skyle knew that he was the favorite one. This deep-seated certainty came not from grand declarations or obvious acts, but rather from the small details that Skyle had picked up along the years. From the look in their eyes when they thought he wasn’t watching, to the subtle emotions hidden underneath seemingly casual words, Skyle had felt this burning, steadfast love and had come to bask in it.

Perhaps Lornius was able to see a hint of this rock steady confidence in Skyle’s eyes, as the older man seemed taken aback for a moment. Then he nodded to Skyle and patted his back.

“That’s good. That’s very good. Make sure you never forget this. Sometimes love is the only enduring thing that a person can leave behind,” Lornius said with a longing look in his eyes.

Skyle knew he was probably thinking about Fatty’s mother, whom Skyle had never met. Her identity was a great mystery in all of Sunny Meadow. Just from the fact that Merchant Lornius had never remarried in spite of the constant stream of interested female parties besieging the rich, powerful man, anyone could see that he still loved her.

Lornius smiled awkwardly as he caught Skyle’s look, and gently nudged the boy forward.

“Rain’s slowly letting up, and I believe the academy should open its doors soon. Off you go now, little fellow. Go before this old man makes a complete fool of himself.”

“Never, sir. Da always said you were a man worthy of his respect, and I can see why.” Skyle shook his head firmly.

“Shoo, little boy. And don’t forget to take the candied corn for your little princess.”

“Empress, sir.” Skyle corrected almost automatically.

Lornius chuckled helplessly then. “Really, now?”

Skyle shrugged awkwardly, embarrassed in spite of himself. “She read it in some book that princesses always need rescuing while an Empress gets busy ordering that heads be chopped off. She seemed to take a particular liking to that last part, and ever since she insists she will be an empress.”

Lornius waved Skyle off while guffawing in laughter. “Convey my humble greetings to her Imperial Highness then, and watch your step out there, little Skyle. It’s a long way from farm boy to Imperial Prince.”

Skyle rolled his eyes with flushed cheeks, but sped off with both the corn and Fatty’s gift in his hands.

It was time to render tribute unto his Empress, after all.

God help him if he so happened to be late by a single breath.