Olus would be in Maera's room, except he was an angry boy and the villa had endless places to hide. The last thing he wanted was to play a losing game with a sulky child. He would have to wait, and until then he ought to at least inform his father of the news. Then the man can relax whatever muscle he kept clenched up at all times. Or not, Aleci scoffed, the only parental advice he listened to these days were from his mother. She wasn't a Mytus, but she did move from a small village to the Capital and maybe finding herself in an unfamiliar place was something she could sympathize with. So he pulled out a parchment and began writing what he hoped said everything and nothing to his mother, because the last thing he wanted was her dragging his sister to his villa for a visit.

He only looked up when the door opened and Finne slipped in to take his place by the table. Nothing on his face told Aleci of the conversation Finne had with Maera so he returned back to writing, this time the letter to his father. Short and simple, he figured, something along the lines of 'if all goes well, your grandchild will arrive soon'. Or would that be taken as an insult by Galer? He twirled the quill around and around in his hand until he heard the sound of gagging, followed by a window opening and the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

"Finne?" he exclaimed, rushing to his feet to where Finne was standing head out the window.

Finne glowered, wiping at the spit on the corners of his mouth.

"Do you want me to call Maera? Do you want—"

"No," said Finne, irritably, stalking towards the map table again. "No."

Finne should be glad that Aleci was never a sympathetic vomiter. "Do you want some other food?" said Aleci, abandoning the useless task of writing to his father and pulling a chair to sit down next to Finne. "We can go to Corcius for the pomegranates?" He gestured towards an empty piece of parchment. "What do you want to eat?"

Finne took the quill that was offered and began drawing. Aleci raised his eyebrows at the parchment when it was handed back.

"You know fresh salmon is hard to find right?" said Aleci, rhetorically.

"You asked," said Finne.

Aleci blinked. "Well, draw something easier to find," said Aleci.

"No," said Finne, going back to his maps again.

He couldn't see what Finne found on the maps that needed fixing. There were only so many mountains, but Finne insisted on going through everything with the finest comb. Now what he was looking at were the merchant roads from Imruk to Alyssa.

"Did my father take you along those roads?" Aleci asked, askance. Then deciding he ought to at least try, „You go with my father here?"

"No—" said Finne then stopped himself, giving Aleci an odd look, „Why?"

"Why what?" said Aleci.

"You—" Finne gestured at him, "Why do you speak Imrukian?"

„I want,"said Aleci, struggling to sound out the word.

"Why?" said Finne, staring at the map and the Aleci.

„I want," said Aleci, again, „to learn."

Finne made several doubtful noises and leaned back on his seat. His arms were crossed and he had the look of polite disinterest. Did he say something rude, Aleci wondered, he had been very certain he said the word „learn". But now was not the time to muse over stumbling blocks. He glanced at the map and decided to test his very flighty grasp of the language.

„Where did you go?"

That phrase he knew, and the responses from Finne whenever he asked said question. This time he was pointing to the map though, so the meaning must be different yet clear to Finne.

"Why do you ask?" Finne said, looking at the ceiling and then at Aleci.

"I want to talk to you in Imrukian."

This earned him an incredulous laugh from Finne.

"What about poetry?" said Aleci, unfazed. It was Finne's nausea that was clearly at fault here, "Imrukian poetry?"

"Imrukian poetry," Finne repeated. "You want Imrukian poetry?"

"Yes," said Aleci, smiling in relief. "You can write them down."

There was a tilt of Finne's head and a look of interest at this. «You want to read Imrukian poetry?»

The words were said in the very slow tones of one talking to a particularly dull child.

„Yes," said Aleci, „please."

Finne looked happier than Aleci had seen him since Maera's arrival, and he took this as a good sign. "Here," said Aleci, holding out a parchment, "Go ahead and write it."

He should have known from Finne's relationship with Mercus that the first poem Finne chose to write down for him had a bawdy nature. He even took the time to draw the figures that came with the poem. It began with a man, and his wife walking with a servant towards an apple tree. Finne didn't keep the swirling script, he tried to make the lines as straight as he could. The effort was wasted as everything was incomprehensible to him.

„You read, please?" he smiled, a twitch of his lips that he hoped looked sincere.

Finne obliged, an amused smile on his lips as he read out loud. From his cadence, Aleci gathered that Imrukian poetry sounded like a tavern song. Or it could be Finne liked this one particularly because it was a tavern song turned poem, or poem turned tavern song, sometimes it was hard to say.

„«Sionadh», I cannot blame you, but surely it's unwise"

„To kiss your wife right for all of Imruk's eyes"

This stanza had Aleci paused, motioning for Finne to stop. The «Sionadh», however one pronounced said title was sitting under the apple tree and the servant was looking down upon them. It was hard to convey attractiveness in rushed drawing but there was a significant age difference between the Sionadh and his wife that Aleci could guess exactly where her eyes were looking at. A clever plan of the servant, using his master's conceit against him.

„«Sionadh», my eyes cannot agree,

But come up and look yourself, mayhap it is the tree"

Finne was very creative with his hand gestures and face as he narrated, Aleci thought. He should tell him that if Finne wanted to enjoy the company of the troupers on the villa's property then he should go ahead and do so.

"Is this Mercus then?" said Aleci pointing to the servant. Finne froze, and gave Aleci a rabbit like stare, a kind of frozen terror. "I am joking!" Aleci said quickly, and even as he moved forward, reaching for Finne's hand to reassure him, Finne flinched away. "It was a good poem! Besides," he tried smiling again and the gesture was strange and foreign, "I am more handsome than him. More intelligent, even, a tree? Ha!"

Perhaps he did imagine the look of fear on Finne's face because that was a definite smile when Finne said, „No kissing under trees, Aleci is intelligent."

„Intelligent," Aleci parroted, smoothing back his hair. Now that had to be a laugh, even if Finne tried to hide it behind his hands.

Finne's good cheer didn't last. He vomited at lunch, then whatever he managed to eat at dinner. Maera waved away Aleci's concerns, saying "It takes more time for one's body to adjust."

From the sour smell hanging around their bed when he woke up the next morning he suspected Finne got up in the night to vomit up whatever tea he drank. Contrary to every other morning he was still asleep when Aleci woke up, and didn't stir when Aleci tip-toed out of the bed. The letter to his father he kept short, and the one to his mother he made certain to inquire on the health of her and his sister. Then he looked over some numbers, and sighed at the rain he knew they ought to be expecting any day now.

Finne still hadn't join him, so he presumed he was still feeling out-of-sorts. Maera would probably be with him. He should, Aleci thought, go see little Olus and figure out the intricacies of the Imrukian court language. It was odd that the little boy knew it, but, like Mercus said, maybe Maera's other daughter married well and Olus spent some years in the court. It didn't all add up though, Brissa had said they left when she was quite young, and Maera did not seem to be a woman who would leave her child to be raised by others.

He could ask the boy himself, he decided, making his way to Maera's room. Usually a villa such as theirs would have sprawling quarters for the Dominus and Domina but his father had theirs small. There was more room for the grapes and the quarters of the troupers that lived there on a rotational basis. His mother had bemoaned his father's trusting nature, but Aleci knew better. Galer's working philosophy was that 'if the job's done it doesn't matter what happens during it'. This meant that the men under Galer and people living on their properties enjoyed a certain freedom. A freedom that was denied to Aleci, but everyone knew philosophers had two hands, one to write words and one to wave away hypocrisies.

Maera had one of the nicer rooms overlooking the courtyard, and she'd hung a peculiar wooden carving on her door. He strained his neck to look but all he could make out was herbs. Shrugging his shoulders, he knocked on the door.

„Go away! I don't want your breakfast!"

He recognized the word „breakfast", and from Olus's tone his rejection of the whole concept was clear.

"It's Dominus Aleci, Olus, open the door."

There was a long silence, "Maera said I don't talk to you. Much." and a hastily added, "Dominus Aleci."

"Well I don't think you like being cooped up in there all day," said Aleci, being generous even as he rolled his eyes. "Don't you want to come out and play?"

This had the desired effect, the door creaked open and Olus's messy head of curls peeked through it.

"I don't play. I'm not a child."

The statement was so ludicrous Aleci bit back a laugh.

"Oh, is that so?" he said, moving to look into Maera's room.

It was as neat as he'd expected it to look, blankets folded, her basket and things in one corner, all nicely organized. But he could see where Olus had swept in and disrupted the older woman's tidiness. The blanket the boy slept with was folded, either deliberately or carelessly into a ball. Maera had one of the few rooms with a hearth and Olus had left his mark on it. There were scratches on its dirt floor and pebbles of varying sizes placed on what he realized was a drawn grid.

"Latrunculi's a game," he said, pointing to the hearth.

Olus followed his finger, scowling. "It's not—" the boy seemed to struggle for words, then spat out. "It's not for childs."

"Children," Aleci suggested. Then a rather novel idea occurred to him, "Do you like winning, Olus?"

Olus stared at him as if he'd declared the sky was green. "You don't?"

"How about this," said Aleci, with honeyed words, "I play a game with you and if you win, I'll—" he thought about the earlier interaction Finne had with Olus. "I'll let you practice with the guards— no sharp weapons!" he added.

"What if you wins?" said the boy, looking suspicious. "You won't, but what if you wins?"

He refrained from interrupting the boy, because that would put a damper onto his plans. "Teach me that Imrukian you were speaking with Finne," said Aleci.

Olus stared at him for a long moment, and Aleci wondered if the boy understood. Then he started laughing, peals of laughter coming from his mouth. Olus doubled over, holding his stomach.

"No," said the boy, when he recovered.

The no was very familiar but then again, children loved saying no. "Why not?" said Aleci.

"You're not—" a pause, an angry glint in the boy's eyes, "—my «father»! I won't—" here the boy closed his mouth, then shook his head, hands on the door to push it close, "No. Good day Dominus Aleci."

"Wait," said Aleci, holding the door closed with his foot. There were several seconds where he thought the boy contemplated closing the door, but to his relief decided against it. "Just Imrukian then?" he said, „Please?"

This gave the boy some pause, he looked at Aleci's hand of all places and then repeated incredulously, „Please?" Then he looked up at Aleci, a sly smile on the corner of his mouth, „Fine, I always win anyway."

"You're not teaching me if I don't understand you," Aleci offered cheerfully.

This gave Olus some pause, he looked at Aleci in an strangely familiar contemplative manner, then turned away, heading towards the hearth. Aleci followed him, sitting down on part of the stone floor, Olus sitting across from him. Usually it would take five or so rounds for Aleci to cross out beginner's luck, but it didn't take that long for him to realize the boy was good. He took more of Aleci's stones than Aleci took of his, and his moves on the board was not purely coincidence. The boy's smile was wider and wider every time he won a stone. There was a pause in the game, as Aleci thought about his next move to finally play, when Olus spoke up, pointing at Aleci's ring.

"When did you marry?"

"When?" said Aleci, "It was... " he struggled to pin point the time, was it really three months ago or two? "Two months ago," he decided, crossing out the time when he ignored Finne completely.

"You marry Finne."

"Domina Finne," Aleci corrected, and figured he might as well be honest. He leaned in closer so that Olus didn't have to crane his neck. Then he did as his mother did, which was be polite but firm. "Did Maera tell you to be nice as well? Because you should. He's pregnant, you don't want to cause him any more stress now, do you?"

Olus's lower lip trembled, eyes bright, he pushed himself up from the ground, before rushing out the door. What in Mytea, Aleci thought, staring at the swinging door with bewilderment, he didn't say anything wrong! Then he scowled, because Mytea was a flighty God and would no doubt take great pleasure at their name being used so.