In the weeks and months that followed Caj’s arrival, Narm and Caj’s life settled into a comfortable balance. Narm had quarters across the hall from the Count and Countess who ran the only mortuary of Goldstern, and the largest one in the country. The Countess Isabelle had just given birth two baby girls, twins Marcella and Illandra, nicknamed Marci and Ally. During the day, she and her older daughter Janice took care of the three children while Narm worked. Caj grew more and more and by 2 years of age he was toddling around the mortuary, peering curiously at the dirty white vests of the junior undertakers, and the black vests of the senior undertakers. There seemed to be a host of Journeymen. There was over 20 of them employed at any one time and most lodged in the outbuilding built for housing. Most full undertakers lived off the mortuary with their families, the exception being Narm. Of course, Caj didn’t know any of this, all he knew was that older men wore black and the younger men wore white. At two he wondered briefly why this was, but he had more important things to worry about. Like a good place to hide from Marci and Ally. Or the new rocking horse Narm made him. Or Beetles. Beetles were very interesting.

By the time he hit four it didn’t much matter to Caj what color the men wore, save that the ones in black vests would always slip him candy when they thought Narm wasn’t looking. Narm never gave him candy. Caj didn’t mind so long as Narm promised not to cook. He liked Countess Isabel’s cooking much better than Narm’s. Narm and Count Isaac found this very funny. Narm would say that they found it humorous. Caj liked that word. Hew-more-us. Narm told him it meant funny. When he asked why Narm didn’t just say funny, Narm said that he liked the word humorous better. Ever since, Caj only ever referred to anything that made him laugh as humorous, at which point he would be reduced into a giggling fit, that he would try to cover by adopting a four-year-olds equivalent of Narm’s stony countenance.

Whenever he did this in Narm’s presence Narm would cock an eyebrow at him and lift one corner of his mouth in a half smile he called a smirk, and any of the men in white vests nearby would start to laugh as if he had done something very humorous, and Narm’s smirk would become a toothy smile that softened his weathered and scarred face. Even his eyepatch took on a comical appearance. It was a much nicer smile than the one he usually showed. Comical. That was another word Narm taught him, it meant when something was humorous. Narm taught him a lot of words, including some that he was not supposed to learn, and that he would be in trouble if Narm ever heard him say them. Narm never explained what those words meant, but they must be awful things the way Narm used them.

Shite in particular must be a horrid thing. The way Narm used it, it smelled bad, tasted bad, and was not something you wanted. Caj did wonder at one time why Narm knew what it tasted like, as something that smelled bad typically didn’t taste any better, so why would you eat it? When he asked that one day, in front of several of the men in white vests, everyone, even Narm started laughing. Narm found it so humorous and was laughing so hard that he actually fell into the hole they were digging. Caj thought it rather comical.

Caj didn’t really understand the holes, graves Narm called them. He knew that boxes called coffins were put into them, and that there were people in the coffins. When he asked about that, Narm quietly informed him that they were dead. When he asked what that meant, Narm said it was like taking a nap forever, and never waking up. Caj decided that he didn’t much like the idea of that at all. Naps were not humorous. When he told Narm that, Narm chuckled through his mouthful of stew, and Count Isaac looked near the same, until Countess Isabelle clucked at the men and said that “Such things should not be spoken of to children.” But she wore a small smile as she slid vegetables onto Marci, Ally, and Caj’s plates.

More time passed, and when Caj was five, his playtime with Marci and Ally turned into lessons about letters. Caj liked letters almost as much as he liked words, and he found words very fun things indeed. Within a month of learning his letters, Caj could be seen trotting through the tombstones of the Fallen Oak mortuary and trying to puzzle out what was written on them, his shaggy auburn head just high enough to be seen over the smaller stones.

Sometimes he would come across words that he did not know, and when he puzzled out their sounds, he would memorize them to ask Narm about. While Caj’s days lacked much schedule at this point, aside from his lessons with the Countess in the morning, every evening was spent with Narm, around the small fireplace in his quarters. Narm always had something to talk to him about. Sometimes it was a story, sometimes Narm would teach him how to play a game on a small, crosshatched board, a different game every time. Caj liked the stories, they were always very exciting, but he didn’t like the games very much. He always lost, even in the simple ones. Every night, though, Narm would always ask him if he had any questions before the story or game, and again after. Narm always answered his questions like he was a big kid, which made Caj happy. He didn’t mind being coddled, it was nice sometimes, but pinched cheeks grew tiring after a time, and Narm talked to him, not over him. Something that any child would appreciate. He learned all sorts of new words now that he could read, like beloved, and deceased, and cherished. When He asked Narm questions about those words, and where he saw them, Narm would always explain more than just what the word meant, he would explain why it was put there. Soon it became a game of sorts. Caj would run throughout the vast graveyard, always in sight of Narm or Countess Isabelle of course, and he would memorize inscriptions, particularly any that had some word he didn’t know. In the evenings, he would do his best to recite word for word the ones he could remember, and with each one he would say what he thought it meant, and then Narm would tell him whether or not he was right. Soon the game changed, as most epitaphs said the same thing, just with different words. Narm purchased a storybook for Caj to share with Marci and Ally, and the three younglings would follow Narm around all day, taking turns reading and saying what they thought phrases meant, and eventually what they thought the story meant. Narm would always tell them what he thought, and then would ask whoever was helping him dig what they thought. Without fail, the junior undertakers who were assisting would look startled for a moment, then smile and give their interpretations.

Some days it would turn into an attempt by Ally and Marci to convince Caj to their viewpoint, or vice versa. Caj thought it was strange that they always agreed with each other when someone other than themselves was involved in an argument but fought like two tomcats in an alley otherwise. When He asked Narm about it, Narm had laughed and replied that all twins were like that. He proceeded to tell a story, face still as stone, that had the other diggers in fits of laughter, and the Countess Isabelle scolding them for laughing while digging graves. What would the family of the deceased think if they heard about such things? They would be horrified. Most of the men sobered at the reminder of mortality, but there were still chortles from several of the men. Caj and Ally- Marci was sick that day- tried to puzzle out what was so funny about a bride mixing up her husband with his brother, and marrying the wrong one, and not knowing for several years afterward. Caj thought it a very serious matter, after all, people mixed up Ally and Marci all the time. Even their parents had trouble sometimes, although Caj always knew which was which. At least he thought he did. He did wonder why the term escaped was used for the brother who remained unmarried, but that seemed unimportant. Ally thought that it was sad and that the original groom must’ve been heartbroken. When she expressed this sentiment, more guffaws issued from the mouths of several of the men until Isabelle’s disapproving stare caught them.

And so Caj proceeded for the first seven years of his life, relatively carefree. It was a life not dissimilar to that of many other children, save for living at a mortuary, and the games that Narm played with him every night. Later in life he would look back and it would seem obvious that Narm had been instilling a critical mind in him and the girls. Those were lessons Caj would use for the rest of his life.

***

“Manners?” Jeremy said through a mouthful of beef and beans, “What the hell does he need that for?” he asked, adding a few new spots of color to his heavily stained white vest. If he got many more stains on it, he might be taken for a full undertaker. In the years since Caj’s arrival, Jeremy had become a sort of fixture of the Bone Yard. Other junior undertakers came and went from the small barrack like building that housed many of the younger men, but Jeremy never left. Rumor was that his family thought him 6 years dead, but that didn’t seem to bother him any. “I never got learned no manners, and I ain’t never used ‘em neither.” He added through a mouthful of stale bread used to wipe his bowl. Narm grunted, swallowed, and made a show of wiping his mouth before replying in a dry tone,

“I’d never have guessed, Jeremy.” At the same time as Caj blurted,

“You didn’t ever get learned anything Jeremy.” A big smile plastered across his face. He felt Narms sharp cuff to his ear a second later. He yelped.

“Ow, what the hell did you do that for Narm?” Another cuff to the other ear swiftly followed. Caj was about to spout another phrase that he oft heard repeated by the junior undertakers, but Narm was wearing that scary grin of his, the one that reminded Caj of the time he ran afoul of a wild dog that had chased him home. He kept his mouth closed and bit his lower lip to keep himself from talking. Narm spoke now, deep voice shifting to a smooth pattern that was so different from the way that all the other undertakers talked. It reminded Caj more of how the Count talked, and he was from Great River, 100s of miles to the west. Narms voice seemed like a physical thing, cuffing his ears all over again.

“This is why you need manners, boy.” Caj flinched, Narm never called him boy unless he was being particularly stupid, “Someday, you will end up insulting someone you can’t afford to insult. You need to know how these things work, how to socialize, how to be formal, how to call someone an idiot appropriately.”

Caj brightened slightly at that, but lost his luster at Narms next words,

“For instance,” Narm said, looking entirely too pleased with himself, “I won’t call you a disrespectful dunce. I will instead say ‘Why my good sir Caj, I didn’t know that you were in possession of Journeyman Jeremy’s life story. You simply must tell me of it!’” This last was said with such obviously false enthusiasm on Narms part, that even Caj, who had a terrible ear for sarcasm, could detect it. Jeremy had a wide grin now as he reached for his waterskin. Caj had to admit, he felt more like a “disrespectful dunce” then he would’ve if Narm had simply called him one. Maybe there was something to this manner’s thing. Maybe. He thought that he should maybe apologize to Jeremy.

“Umm…” he mumbled, “Jeremy, I’m um, sorry for being mean and rude to you. And for being a disrespectful dunce I guess.” He scratched the back of his head. Narms voice was considerably gentler when he next spoke, but no less firm.

“The proper phrasing of that apology, Caj, would be: ‘Journeyman Jeremy, I must offer you my deepest apologies for insulting you with my remarks regarding your education, and my coarse language.’ Accompanied by a bow, bent at the waist to show you are sincere.” Caj repeated him word for word, bowed, and then asked Narm,

“What is ‘coarse language’?” He asked curiously. Narm gave him a pointed look.

“Manners,” he said smoothly, “Master Caj, would dictate that you phrase that question as ‘Goodman Narm, what exactly do you mean by ‘coarse language’’” Caj looked even more confused,

“Why say all that when I can just ask what it is?” Narm raised an eyebrow. Caj waited for an answer, until Jeremy let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word ‘manners’ Caj realized that Narm must want him to talk in that strange way. He tried to adopt Narms accent and found that his time spent with the Count and Narm made him able to replicate it pretty easily. He cleared his throat,

“Ahem, Goodman Narm why must I ask the question like this?” Narm smirked, but before he could answer, Jeremy did, picking up his shovel as he did so.

“‘Cause it makes ya sound important. That’s all manners is, Making yourself seem important.” Narm looked surprised at Jeremy’s words, and seemed to look at the man a little closer, but he did not object to them, or offer any other explanation. And so, at seven years of age Caj was launched into the world of milords and milady’s, and multiple forks and knives, and flowery talk. At first, he had a lot of trouble with it, so did Ally and Marci for that matter, but he soon realized that Jeremy had in fact been correct. All manners were was a game, one where you pretended to be important even though you knew you weren’t, and you won the game by making everyone else feel important, or otherwise by making yourself more important than them. In this context, he soon began to greatly enjoy manners.

Soon, Ally and Marci were sent off to school with other children, much to Ally’s joy and Marci’s despair. Marci wanted to stay at home and play with Caj, and dissect bugs, while Ally wanted to play with all of her friends. But both of them went, leaving Caj at the age of eight, to the not so tender mercies of his new teachers. These teachers soon found new lessons for their pupil. Count Isaac taught him math, how to balance a book and a budget, as well as how to manage paperwork. Countess Isabelle taught him History and table etiquette, often at the same time, by having an extended lunch with him and discussing matters of history while at the table. Narm had him from noon until night and taught him all manner of things.

Sessions with Narm were always interesting, regardless of what they were about. Sometimes the conversations were about history again, other times they were about manners. A good deal of time was devoted to explaining politics. Caj of course did not know this was an abnormal education, he just supposed everyone knew about the council of thirty Barons, and that there were three ranks that could be held by nobility aside from the King: Dukes, Lords, and Counts. It never occurred to him that normal nine-year olds didn’t know that Dukes controlled Cities and trade while Lords controlled the Dukes’ military forces and swaths of farmland, or that the majority of Counts served as pillars of a community. To him, this was all just a game of memory, just like when he was four and would memorize epitaphs.

Eventually, his education with Narm shifted away from politics, and how a Duke referred to a Lord and vice versa, and more into the realm of practicality. Caj had no Idea why he might need to know how to challenge persons of varying rank to a duel, or why when bowing while wearing a sword he must stretch his right hand out to the side and use his left hand to push the hilt as far away from his body as he could manage. He didn’t understand why refusing to be seated when in a room full of people he did not trust was important, but it was all very exciting. His lessons continued like that until he was eleven years old. Two things changed on his eleventh birthday. One was that Narm purchased him a shovel. The other was that Narm purchased two quarterstaffs of strong, thick ash.