13th of Zi’da
The trial finally arrived, and with it came the first signs of the Cold cycle. Middlecleft had woken to find their town covered in a thin layer of frost, product of the cold winds that came from the ocean nearby. The ocean itself roared in the coast, the waves big and strong, pounding on the earth as if an ancient battle was taking place. With the coming of the Cold, the Rothgrains were out of work, and so the town felt much busier now that half of it remained within the walls. Whatever had to be done had been done, and what was left was left for later. Some mourned and some rejoiced depending on the quantity of profits accumualted throughout the arc. Now, it was time to prove to one another just how well said arc was, for Rothgrains now donned fancy new clothing, fur cloaks and new leather boots that increased in quality the more hard work had been placed in the field.For Paplo, there had not been many profits. In fact, he had only lost time and money in the construction of a cursed orphanage, who had collapsed once, and had spawned an infinite amount of problems after its conception. Sewer issues, a difficult terrain, and all the paperwork had made it almost impossible for his facade to become tangible. Paplo wondered, sometimes, why he bothered so much. There were so many others things to do in the world, so many things to kill and to eat, and yet here he was, building a home for orphans. The most powerful creature in the world turned into a caregiver. After leaving Ollipo and Mallina’s home with a more or less full stomach, Paplo made his way to the Lodge, where he was supposed to meet his date. It seemed busy at this time of the day, and at this season, for the laughter and loud storytelling could be heard from the street. Regardless, it had to be done.
The moment he opened the door was the moment the strong heat of the Lodge struck his refined features. The fire was roaring in the large hearth, and the sound of laughter and enthusiastic chatter had a heat of its own.
“Hey, look!” said one of the townsmen. “Try not to make this building collapse too, eh Paplo?”
Paplo looked towards the man, and practically the whole tavern that had heard his comment and laughed out loud. Mocking him, of course. Nonetheless, Paplo offered a kind smile and removed his cloak, adding it to the hanger. His eyes now scouted through the lodge, and his target was found shortly after, her fingers beckoning to join her in her lonely table.
Tatania had been a beautiful woman once. Her brown hairs had such hue even Moseke would find herself jealous. Her smile had been so charming even Zanik would fall to her feet. Her manners, her grace and the femininity she possessed had been powerful enough to make her into the most popular woman in her town, and had helped her escape into a life of adventure, romance and luxury. That was thirty arcs back, of course, and the female was nothing but a mess of wrinkles and experience which, despite hindering her of her beauty, had made her into a confident woman one could only praise. Paplo felt it too; that experience she carried. It was intoxicating.
Paplo donned his black suit, as usual, and it was rare to see him outside of said garment. Perhaps it was a bit repetitive, but he was cerainly out of place in a place as moddest as Middlecleft. His skin was fair and soft, and his hands were as soft as silk. His motions were refined, graceful and fluid, and his gait was best described as that of a swan. Perhaps he was a bit feminine in that regard, lacking the brutality and crudeness of most country men, yet that rarely affected his effect on the genders. Men or female both liked him, and the moment his charming words came through, he was rarely denied any of his whims.
“You must be lady Tatania,” said Paplo as he approached. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“And you must be Paplo,” replied Tatania. She had a charming and clear voice despite her age. Her wrinkled hand was offered to Paplo, who bowed down and laid a kiss onto the back of her palm. His eyes never left her. “And I’ve heard so much about you, too. Care to join me?”
“Of course.” Paplo sat in the chair opposite to the female, both hands coming over the table, palms together and fingers interlacing. “I hope you don’t mind the rumours, lady Tatania.”
“Bah. I won’t turn into a gossiping hen in this life, I can assure you that.” Tatania tapped her glass of wine. “Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.”
Paplo’s smiled widened. “I like that saying. I only wish more of the town took it to heart.”
The waitress, an old gossiping hag being her best description, arrived.
“Wh’ you want.” She said, not even bothering to turn the statement into a question.
“A glass of water, please.”
A grunt was her response as she moved away.
Paplo was left rather speechless by the waitress’ attitude. He was still a newcomer to this town, and yet everyone was bent on hating him. Said sad notion was present in his beaded features when he returned his attention to his date.
“Worried, Paplo?” Tatania leaned forth, head tilted. It was hard not to appreciate her grace. “Do not be. I’ve heard it all about you, and I’ve lived here long enough to know those rumors will never fade.”
“How am I supposed to not worry?”
“You won’t lose your orphanage, because you’ll have me by your side.”
Silence.
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’m not young enough to beat around the bush. A woman of my age has no time to lose. Your only choice by now is to either abandon your orphanage and die in debt, or to become one Middlecleft’s citizens.”
“And I do such by marrying you, correct?”
“Indeed.”
Paplo shook his head. “So we’d just get married for my own convenience.”
“Do not insult me, mister Ynush. I am your last hope, but I am not easy. If I marry you, I fully expect you to do your part.”
Another tense silence.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you keep me warm at night and I can go back to being a housewife. I long for a man, and now that my husband has been devoured whole by worms, I'm moving on.” Tatiania now leaned back and dug within her expensive coat. A small metallic case was extracted, which revealed homemade cigarettes. A match was lit, and the female puffed smoke. “Of course, you’d have work hard for it. I have high standards.”
Paplo’s water arrived shortly after, without comment, and without charge. At least water was free of both cost and saliva for not. He took a swig and returned the stein upon the table. His eyes were fixed on the female, who did not quiver at all.
“Finish your cigarette and your wine.Let me set a new standard.”
