#utowinfanfic

“Just a quick stop and go then, eh?” He sighs, spear thrown across his shoulders. The air is wet and humid this high up, even though there are no clouds. Strange.

“Reckon they’d let us use their windowway to get back?”

“I’ve been to this Atelier before, they actually don't have a windowway,” Captain Kinana says. She has a smile on her face, but it never feels mean. Teasing, but fun. Utowin likes her.

“Do you know the witches who live here–?” 

“Why not?” Easthies pulls forward, drifting slow and even as they descend to ground. Utowin pouts as he's cut off.

“Every remote Atelier is required to have one.“

“This is a special case boys. In your journey to become knights you'll come across many a strange spell and people, and even stranger circumstances.” Gaius, another knight, older than Captain, points his chin to that miniature house this high in the sky. “Perhaps we could inquire the witches here. We’ll be on our way before the storm really starts, alright?”

“Storm?! It’s not even normal rain,” Captain laughs as he whines.

She’s not laughing now.

“Corral the area, get a temporary windowway set! We need to contact the Great Hall- Get me some knights in here!” She spreads her arms, standing in the open doorway to block their view, but once Utowin sees Easthies slip past her cloak he takes it as his cue to do so as well. 

It’s dark inside, no fireplace lit or glowlamps, so it’s only the blue gloom of after dusk that illuminates the body.

He has seconds to see all the blood– gosh, HOW much is it– before Gaius pulls him back by the collar, stands in front.

“Ma’am.”

“Gaius, as soon as the windowway is set, take these two back.”

“What? Why?”

“Captain you can't do that–”

“Shut it, both of you,” she snaps. “I can and I will. That's an order.”

“We’ve both passed our second tests. We’ve proven our spearmanship and professionalism and you are short on men.” Easthies shakes his arm out of Gaius’s hold, and he realizes they're locked in, and Utowin can't see beyond the red, red of their cloaks.

Stars, someone died here– “We can patrol. This atelier is a few miles to another village. We can intercept any who might trip the crime scene.” Shockingly clear, and red, wow it's amazing just how common the color is, Easthies eyes land on him.

“We can help and not be in your way. Can't we?”

“...Yes. Yeah, we can. Let's go set up that zone, actually? Ma’am?”

Kinana’s foot is tapping, and he knows that's when she's lost patience. “...Fine! We have an emergency on our hands. I want my men here and this place taped off pronto. You two, three mile radius. Keep your talking clocks on you, alright?”

“Alright!”

It’s going to rain, and it's turning out to be the worst day Utowin’s had so far. Worse than when Kinana made him run up and down all the stairs she could find in the Great Hall, worse than the anxiety of his second test, worse than the day the star of Ghodrey came back shattered, worse than when he left home to train as a knight and his Father wasn't even looking at him when he turned back.

Someone died here. A witch. Maybe more.

“Was it a Brimmed Hat?”

“Had to be. No witch would ever be taken aback by an outsider.” Easthies hair is long enough to cover his face as he bends over, inspecting the dirt. “We don't know how or how long it's been.”

“Why this atelier? Is it because they were secluded?”

“Theres plenty of secluded Ateliers that are plenty safe. The reason why is the same reason why this Atelier doesn't have a windowway," He scoffs. “Which must do with the nature of the witches of this atelier. Captain alluded to such when flying.”

He stands upright, and his eyes cut through the gloom of descending night. A sunset, where the sun has long been obscured. “I was only able to see one body, and that of a man.”

“I saw that too.”

“Did you see their caps?”

Their? “Uh, no.”

“I recognized them, there were two. Dark scales, red ribbons. House of Verity.” Easthies eyes narrow. His hand is fisted in his cloak, and it's like they both notice at the same time because he throws it behind him in a sort of angry, unnecessary flare.

“So there's at least one other witch unaccounted for. An apprentice based on the smaller cap. Have you noticed the glowlamps in the distance?” He changes topics so fast Utowin could get rugburn.

Utowin follows his finger far past the far hills and into the trees. He sees flickering lights there.

“Captain Kinana extended the search zone. Either she's searching to preserve clues, or she's looking for the other witch. If they’re still here. She's letting us feel like we're helping, so long we're out the way.

“We shouldn't disobey direct orders. But we can do more than just ward away random stragglers, yes?”

What thought or misconception Easthies must have had for him to think he’d be good at looking for anything? He just nearly flunked his pattern recognition and prediction test for scouting at the Great Hall, but Easthies trusts in him, so he can't fail this. 

There's someone missing, an actual, breathing (maybe not) person and not some bored knight in a practise activity. There's lives on line, even if it might just be their own.

Just another day on the job-!

They split up. And as night falls, and the smell of rain thickens, Utowin finds his hands are shaking. The open plains are broken by patches of woody area, and he combs through them with a frantic meticulousness. 

Knowing him he might just end up stepping on a clue or he's going to see a shape loom out of the dark and reach out and grab him and then two (or three who knows) witches will be dead and his mom will cry–

Stop it. He stops, tilts his head back and breathes. You're looking for clues on ground. You're looking for a person. Easthies is checking from above. You're safe. You're capable. You're part of the Knights Moralis, stupid. Act like it.

It’s just then when a snap! startles him a foot into the air. There's a big ‘swish-swush’ sound, and the dry rush of roots, like a shrub falling over.

“Uh, Hello?” Stupid. Is he in a horror book?

“I'm Utowin of the Knight Moralis! A witch! Is there- um- anyone who needs help?” In his pocket his talking clock vibrates. He fumbles the thing out of his pocket, sliding the outer ring in place of the second to answer the call.

“Uh-yeah,” he stutters.

“The area is secure and the windowway is clear. Time for you boys to step back.”

“Oh, um, I think I heard something strange in the bushes just now. Imma check it out–”

“A Brimmed Hat was here, Utowin. They killed a witch, and their watchful eye and apprentice are both missing. This isn’t something I want you boys involved with.”

Two people missing. “No one else has seen them, right? I should keep looking.”

“You really shouldn't.”

“How long has it been? We don't have any clues or footprints here, so that Brimmed Hat must’ve flown, or teleported away.”

“It’s definitely been a few hours. And if they did take the girl, or the Eye, then she's long gone, and we're fucked over. But we're gonna keep looking. Go.”

“There's something about those witches and why they were targeted. It’s also why they didn't have a windowway?”

“They're both from a special house. And those folks are going to go ballistic, stars,” the Captain sighs hard, and when she speaks again it's curt.

“Stop. Stalling. I'll kick your ass myself Utowin–

“Wait.”

“I said–”

“Wait wait wait I hear something.” The sound of crackling, snapping, dry and brittle. A high pitched keen underscores the snapping, dipping low and guttural like a horribly sad, hoarse mandolin. Or, just an animal.

“Where are you Utowin.” Or a person.

“Something’s there.”

“Where. Are. You.” Impertinent, he's often been called, he rotates the circle and ends the call.

He's running. A high pitched, patchworked sound made up of gasps and warbled things comes through from the thicket on his left, and it sounds like a voice so he’s running.

A bramble of blackberries stands in his way, which he easily leaps and clears. He didn't account for the steady drop beyond it though, and a quick heel tap keeps Utowin upright and his face not in the dirt. 

His glow lamp is honey bright against the brew of dark when he lifts his arm.

And it's, oh, that's definitely a person. Or at least the shape of it is; twitching horrifyingly and spasming, hands sinking in the loam, body half out the dirt. There's roots tangled on top of them and everywhere, crackling like bones... 

“What the…” It– they– their head snaps up, or atleast they try to, they flinch under a crackle and Utowin notices they're actually really crawling out of a fucking grave what the fuck fuck fucking stars.

He rushes forward. “Oooh-kay buddy, okay okay okay. We're gonna get you out of here, okay? Um…” the thorns the thorns the thorns. They're everywhere.

If only he could use a spell to magic them away– forbidden of course but what the heck is he supposed to do here?

He drops to his knees and they flinch. He reaches out and they flinch and they, it's a girl, a little one too, she flinches when he grabs at the clumped roots at her legs.

“Utowin? Utowin where are you?” Easthies calls from above. 

“Here! I'm down here!” He doesn't have time for more. He rips the patches off in sharp clumps, and it gives her enough room to start army crawling out. 

He ignores the cuts accumulating on his hands and just peels and rips of what he can get to.

She's mostly out, and he walks on his knees to her head, plucking thorns tangled in her hair, around her neck and face, under her belly and still wrapped around her ankles. She's wearing a cloak, obviously a witches cloak so it protects her back mostly. 

“You're okay, you're okay, you're out now, we're gonna take care of you, of this, okay?”

He's panicking. His hands are shaking. Where the hell is Easthies?!

And the girl. She gasps on solid ground, loud, shivering, small, curled. She breathes in; And then she screams.

She knocks out in his arms as soon as Easthies slides down the hill.

He picks her up; Her eyes roll to the back of her head, mouth foaming, and she goes slump; Quiet. Easthies has to calm him down because Utowin thinks she’s just died in his arms. But she's not. She's not dead.

He helps Utowin remove the rest of the bramble thorns and roots she's tangled in with their spears. Ah. He really should’ve thought of that before. 

Utowin suggests Easthies draw a spell to make this go quicker because Utowin's always been bad with on the fly spells like that and stars he's realizing he really shouldn't be and– “No. Be quiet and start pulling.” Utowin's hands are gashed. The healing will be left to the Healing Spire. 

The worst part is her face and feet- uncovered and bare, the blood trickles. He knows head wounds bleed a lot because he fell out of a few trees when he was little but her face is smeared and– “Don’t panic. Focus Utowin.”

Easthies pulls her hair out her face. He puts her on his back.

The knights find them after they've flown back up, and Captain is with them.

He's scared for a moment that she's going to berate him about the call, but when she sees them, she sighs in relief, and she does something she’s never done before– she hugs him. He is enveloped in the ironclad hold of her embrace, both of you. Her body trembles, a hand each in their hair. She’s trembling.

“...Captain?”

It's a quick step through the windowway, just as a crackle of thunder precludes the hiss of rain. Utowin's glad, because this girl looks half like death already.

The Healing Spire nurses are there soon as they step through, peel her off his back, and she looks infinitely small in their arms. She can't be more than what, eight, or ten years old maybe?

“Be careful, she's still got some bramble thorns on her from, from the-”

She's already being pulled away. An older knight pats him on the shoulder; he tries not to make a face when his hand comes back slick. You were cut up pretty bad.

“Are you hurt anywhere young man? Oh, let me see your hands–” 

“I'm fine. I'll bandage these myself.” He thinks. There's a faint crackling between his ears but that doesn't mean anything, eh? 

“The girl though, she’s also got this, I don't know, a blue dot on her tongue? I noticed it earlier. I’m not sure what that is though.” At that, the nurses pause, the Knights freeze.

“A blue dot? You're sure kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“And she's a witch?!” The room explodes in action. Voices rise, urgent, and then he’s being ushered out of the way.

‘What’s going on?” He tries to look past the throng of workers, but a Knight stands in his way and just shakes his head. 

“Leave it to medical Utowin.”

‘Did I say something off?’

He leaves.

He takes a bath. He cloths his hands. He heads to the cafeteria to eat. He combs his half damp hair and then he goes looking for Easthies. He’s already in the cabinet room, drawing up a report. Utowin joins with his own paper to fill.

“...Y’know, I think It must have been a teleportation spell used on her. The ground around her wasn't upturned, which is why-”

“Focus on the facts of the case, Utowin, and not the what ifs.”

Silence presses in once more, their pens scratching against the dull surface of it.

“What's with the blue dot on her tongue?”

Easthies pen stops. “Are you sure it was blue?”

“I know my colors bro. And I'm sure she wasn't snacking on no blueberry pie before we came.”

“How did you find her?”

“I heard her. She was uh, screaming. But her voice was gone so… she must’ve, been there for..” he clears his throat. “A while. It's also how I saw the dot.” Easthies nods like he understands. But that’s just grace. His eyes slide over his palms, a tick to his jaw. 

“Why didn't you use your staff to peel to briar off her?”

“...” Mainly because he didn't think to. “I was rushing. Went kinda brainless in the heat of it, didn’t I?” He laughs. Easthies does not laugh with him.

“I flew over the area multiple times. The bushes hid her. If I had flown a bit lower, I would have seen her.”

Humor is where he falls. “So what, you're saying you would have been her ‘knight in shining armor?’ ” Probably.

“I’m saying you’re reckless. And clueless. You're going to be made her keeper.” He sets the quill in the ink well with a definite sound. “She is a young child, and I don't doubt she’s already imprinted on you. But that blue mark is the heirloom and curse for the children of House Verity.”

“I've…I don't think I've heard of that House.” Not one for politics or books, this one. “You mentioned it before. Their caps?” 

“They are difficult House to deal with, Utowin. They twist the plain truth and exploit loopholes if it serves the interests of their House and they barely keep to the boundary of law.” Easthies voice doesn't rise but it does grit. “You must tread with care.”

Easthies sets a circular container, small, palm sized on the table. He grabs it, “don't be foolhardy, Utowin.” And, just like that, nothing else, the boy leaves, leaving him all on his lonesome.

With nothing but his thoughts.

And memories.

Recent memories.

The ointment smells sharp. Ink drops make Utowin's report ineligible.

It's late at night, nearly morning when he gets a call. 

He has to dig through his pile of clothes on the floor for his talking clock; he's barely coherent when he mumbles out his name.

“Make yourself presentable Utowin. I need you.”

“Huh?” He's already putting his shoes on. He can just throw on a robe.

“Captain Kinana, now? Is this serious? Is this somehow about my report–”

“Get to the Healing Spire Utowin, now. You're the only one I trust with this.” And with those words she ends the call.

He stares at his talking clock. “She trusts me…?”

Me?

(She trusts me. She trusts me. She trusts me!)

The Healing Spire has a tenuous sort of tranquility this time of night– not quite strong, not quite fragile, dependent on the smooth uninterrupted flow of quiet. Perfect for late workers and restless patients.

The perfect kind of tenuous peace that he shatters when he flies through the doors of the Healing Spire, bursting like a star. 

“What's wrong? What happened? Captain? Why’d you call me–?”

“Calm down.” Kinana drags him back down by the collar and he gags. Still floating, still dragging, she pulls him along. To the back, up some stairs-

“The girl woke up and she needs you. I tried but she's too scared of me. And Easthies couldn't soothe a block of wood.”

“Huh?” 

In the back, lit by glowlamps, a small room upstairs. A bed, dresser. A low bench at the foot of the bed and that's where she is.  

“Easthies broke it down some for you, right? So we don't need two high strung geese here.” Captain lets him go.

She wears a pale scrub, clean with brushed hair, but she’s curled towards the far end of a bench. The nurses try to inch closer, they're holding various aid stuff but she’s flinching. 

“Work some of your magic again. Ghodrey boy. She needs it.”

She’s watched them, him, as soon as they came in, but luckily Captain stood back enough she couldn't hear what she said. Probably. He lands, softly, and approaches with a smile.

“Hey, um…” Wait, he doesn't even know her name. “What's wrong? Are you okay?” Her eyes widen more, half curled on herself, eyes like she never left the grave.

But, if there's one good thing he's good at, besides athletics, it's dealing with little kids. They're kinda easy. He was one, duh.

“You can call me Utowin. You're at the Healing Spire, and these people here are nurses, they just want to make sure that you aren't hurt.”

“...But I am hurt.” Her voice is a small, crackling thing. But she responded! He locks in on that.

“Yeah? If you can let the nurses do their job, then they can make the hurt better, or else all the hurt places are gonna get even worse, okay?

“Are you scared? I'll sit right here then.” He plops himself down by her side, stupid grin all over his face like he doesn't feel ready to tremor right out his skin.

He can tell why he's here, and not Easthies, or some other stranger. He’s the one who found her. He carried her here. He should make sure she's alright for now too.

Thankfully, besides the cuts and thorns from the brambles, she's alright. The worst part is her feet, the bramble thorns had dug deep into her soles like they fought against her too. There's bandages taped on her cheeks and forehead, and he sees the split edge of her lip, bitten and cracked. She'll probably scar.

Utowin speaks through the round of disinfection and rebandaging, distracting himself as much as her from the shallow timing of her breaths.

“I bet it's storming really bad out there now, we left just as it started to rain, y’know!”

(Definitely woulda been harder to find ya.) 

"You know, I don't really like the rain. Or, water. I mean I take baths, I'm not dirty, and I like to swim, but uh…”

“...But?”

Hm, not a good time to dump his fear of immense water onto this trauma victim.

(Dirt woulda gotten all muddy-thick– Can you drown in mud?)

“But-! Nevermind that? How about you tell me your name? I’m sorry I didn't get the chance to ask you before!” He doesn't see Captain cringe back, too focused on this.

He’s watching her. Her face goes through a strange change. First blank, then affronted, confused, then alarmed. Her breath has not calmed.

He waits.

“I… don't know?”

… Crap. “That's okay.” Ohoho damn. “Maybe it will come back to you.”

“I don't… remember it. My name.” 

(Maybe you're just stressed out? You'll remember in the morning I bet. You’ll probably dream of it.)

She's not breathing right. And her eyes are dilated.

“You just… uh, you had a really hard day–”

“But I don't even remember the day!” She shoots back, so quickly the bench rattles against the bed. 

(You know what? You should eat something. The cafeteria is serving flan?)

He looks to the far wall and she’s there, making a cutting motion towards her neck. 

Cut this down now.

“W-why don't we get something sweet to eat? Would you like that? Then you can rest–”

“No, no, no, I don't want to! I want to remember! I don't remember anything!” Her breaths go shallow, sharp inhales, deep exhales. Utowin rises. She's going to pass out.

(It's because you haven't eaten. Don't you know your brain eats memories when you don't feed your body enough nutrients?)

[What's with the blue mark on her tongue?]

Her nails start digging at the skin of her throat, raising red lines.

“H-hey hey hey, hey, no! You shouldn't do that–!”

(I didn't even really find her. She dug herself out.)

She's crying now, face red and angry. Utowin knows that's just a mask for scared. 

“You're alright! You're alright! Golly, please just stop panicking-!”

“I don't remember anything since I woke up! What did I do-?”

[How long was she there in the dirt?]

“No, none of this is your fault. You're okay, you're safe here. We got you out, right?”

“Not fast enough,” his blood chills; He flinches, hard.

[How much does she remember?]

(Is she wrong?)

“She still got me. She got me. Because I don't remember! And that man! I don't- I don't remember? No, I don't remember,” she goes on repeating that, like she's questioning and answering herself, and even with his hands trembling, Utowin makes sure to keep her wrists– her nails already spotted with blood.

(She was out there long enough her voice gave out. Listen, the girl can barely talk.)

“Why can't I remember? What did I do wrong? What happened to me?! Utowin?” He flinches, again, but this time, in shock. She kicks, she cringes away from the nurse's hands, feet pushing, sliding uselessly against the bench like she could pull away with him holding her wrists, but she's not fighting his grip. She's reaching for him. 

“Utowin. Utowin? Why can't I remember?”

(Your memories were wiped clean.)

[Your master is dead. I think you were supposed to be too.]

"Utowin?"

(How come I didn’t hear you?)

[Who is ‘She’?]

(Maybe it's better if you forgot that too.)

(“I'm sorry,” he says instead.)

Again- Your eyes go wet and that sound, that awful keening pitch starts in the back of your throat again– like a dying animal, he thinks, before a hand cracks the back of your neck, and you're slump.

Captain Kinana sighs. Her mouth is a twisted, bitten red when he looks up.

“I didn't want to do that. But better than hyperventilating.”

“We have sedatives for that!” A nurse stands, right up to the Captain's face. Ballsy.  “We have them ready for situations like this-”

“Not situations like this. Not quick enough. You have been made aware of her condition yet you let her scramble herself into a panic attack despite the risks.”

“Like you standing in a corner off shoring your responsibilities to a child?” She looks at Utowin and anger turns into pity. It's clear in her face.

Utowin hates that. “Your bandages are loose, child. Give her to us and we can take care of that for you.”

“I got it.” He holds you up before you can slip to the floor, blowing your hair out his face.

“Captain.” He turns away from the nurses when they move to take her. “What condition are you talking about? Why did the Brimmed Hats come after her atelier? What's that mark on her tongue?”

Kinana nods at him and waves her hand, and Utowin takes the cue to let her go. The nurse lifts her with a tenderness he's only seen in his mom, and it's not until she's tucked into that bed that the Captain motions for him to follow her. He'll rebandage his hands on his own.

The air oustide the Spire, inside the mist basin, is thick and humid, but cool, now. “The House of Verity is an old House, from long before the pact. A jealous king wanted to invoke honesty in his Queen wife, and he cursed her, and those she would bear. And those they would bear. So certainly, a Brimmed Hats doing, but one from long before that we have no bearing on now.”

“What kind of curse… makes you honest?”

“It's so difficult for a member of House Verity to tell a lie such that it's obvious, but that's because of the pain. Concisely put, excessive lying strains the body. I feared she would say something…not quite candid, and activate the curse. She doesn't know how to work around it. Not anymore.”

“Oh.” The stones are clear paved. No cracks. Flowers. Would you like flowers? Did you? There were plenty near your atelier.

How bad does it get? He recalls the nurses running when he mentioned that blue dot on your tongue. That must be a symptom, probably. Is it also a health concern? What causes blue tongues?

“Typically her master would oversee her wellbeing now, and her parents would of course have ample weight in those decisions. In her case, she has neither. Her father was also her master.”

“Was her dad from House-”

“No. That is her mother.”

Is. “Where is she?”

Her jaw ticks. “Unresponsive. We're still trying to reach her.”

(What parent would be absent at a time like this?) He can think of one.

“It's barely been a day. We'll keep trying and wait.”

Wait, that means that other cap wasnt your Father's. “What about the watchful eye?”

“House Verity. Missing. But there's enough blood in places that suggests her fate.” Well, like that wasn't ominous.

For the third time, he unties his hand, wrapping the cloth around his palm, in the space between fingers, knotting. Too tight. Again.

“For now, due to the nature of her curse and this precarious situation, she is under the eye of the Knights Moralis.” Their feet make even rhythm, as they make the trip back to the Spire. She breaks the silence like a nail to glass. Careful, exact.

“She is under your care.”

He stops. Almost stumbles. “My, what? Me?”

“She imprinted on you. Like a duckling. Worse with what she’s gone through. She needs to see that we, the Knights, aren't some frightening, looming authoritative hand. Foster goodwill. 

“Just, check on her, and accompany her wherever she goes. You'll still have time for your training and lessons. Teach her a few things she's forgotten too, I suppose. Like, colors, or something.”

Or something??? “I thought people like her go to Adanlee, to be, rehabilitated.”  It's not like kids have never gone there.

The captain shakes her head. “She’s a special case. With her curse, she could just test out a few words and figure the truth out herself. No. This will be part of your job as well.”

What? She doesn't chuckle when he groans, not this time. “So, what, making sure she doesn't figure out the truth?”

“No. Making sure she does.” Now she stops. Her hand falls hard and heavy on his shoulder, and he has no choice but to meet her eyes.

“When I say this is a special case, I mean it. Call it a hunch, but whatever she can give us, will serve the Knights greatly.

“House of Verity is so secluded, yet they have such particular information because of their curse. Perhaps this could even change the way we deal with those affected by forbidden magic, from now on.”

It, can't be that serious, can it? You're just a kid, a scared little girl covered in gashes with no memories.

But, you do have memories. The memories. Memories of dirt and rot, and then. Claw and heave and drag and breathe. It doesn't compare, not one bit, but Utowin has memories too.

If you don't touch them for long enough you can forget them too.

But Captain doesn't want you to forget. He's supposed to help with that.

So. Kinana gave him a job. 

Look after you, maybe teach you some stuff, try to figure out the truth. Easy peachy. Right.

So he takes the recommended day off for rest, and the next morning, he wakes with a fire under his feet. He skips breakfast to draw out his schedule, coloring the dead blocks– times he spends dawdling, time that could be better spent on this. His mission.

He has a job now. A responsibility.

The girls like, seven or eight, right? What sort of things did he know at that time? Numbers, colors, shapes, basic math, reading, yeah? He can do that, oh, he can definitely do that.

“Excited?” Markus blocks his blow, and pushes him off with too much ease. “For your new little job?”

“Of course I am! And it's not little! This is a very real responsibility.” Blocking his blow has his teeth chattering from the weight of it, but Utowin stands his ground.

“Gotta-! Figure things out, make sure she's alright, knows her stuff, y’know?”

“Do I? What kinda stuff does she have to know?”

“Basic stuff! Like, how to tie her shoes, do her hair, how to figure out directions-”

“How to lie to the adults when you've stolen sweets from the cafeteria?”

“She cant even lie- Hey-!” He doesn't finish his exclamation. Markus reaches past his guard, grabs him by the front of his collar and flips him over his head right on his back. The wind slams out of him.

“... I guess that makes two to one?”

“Hrrmggh-” he garbles instead. Markus laughs.

He's sat. He's given water, and given tips on how to hold and defend ground. Markus always gives good feedback. Even if he takes one of his stolen honey cakes. He still has one for you, it doesn't matter.

Then he sits with him and goes over his new job as well, mulling over the details and like.

“You're right, it is a big responsibility. You gotta look out for her education and wellbeing, right? I don't think Captain Kinana’s really banking on the first one though.”

“I might not’ve been a good student but I'm not stupid,” Utowin grumbles around a sucker. Not as good as honey cakes but oh well. “I can help with the basic stuff.”

“So I won't be seeing you on the grounds as often then?”

“I'll still be coming for my lessons Marku- uh, Sir.”

“Can't have you slouching, eh?” He slaps his back, camaraderie and all, then they fall silent. 

It's kinda always like this– Markus says men talk with their hands and his hands are heavy. His talk is airy but aims true.

“Hey.” So he listens when Markus tugs his sleeve when he stands, eyes twinkling. “It really is that serious, ey? Hold her down till we get things sorted, okay?”

“...That was always the plan, big man.”

It's noon by the time he gets away to go visit you. The Healing Spire has a few patients, a few unlucky blokes caught in an experimental spell, so he leaves the nurses to their work and looks around for you. The nurses say you're upstairs.

You're sitting on the windowsill, in the living room before the hall that leads to the room be left you in, in a new smock dress. 

There's an old crone sitting with you, hanging over like an omen. He feels a dread solidify in his gut.

“And good afternoon to you, little Miss!” You both startle, but where the crone frowns your eyes brighten. Good. It's you he's here for.

“How are you? I finished training early to come check on you! Last time I saw you was pretty rough, I know.” 

(“Sorry I let it get that bad.”) 

“How are you holding up?”

Your mouth opens, but then you look to the crone, whose eyes are already on you.  

Who is this? She wears a cap with metal scales all over, and a frayed red ribbon hanging long from the point. Like Easthies described. Obviously a witch. 

When she doesn't say anything, you answer hesitantly.

“I'm- it's okay. I was scared but I'm o…” You grimace, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. “...It'll be okay. Thank you.”

Sheesh. Media training not a day past the trauma?

He grins. “No need to thank me.” I'm sorry I let it happen at all. “Here, I brought you a wee treat.” He pulls out the honeycake and puts it in your hands, you wonder at it like it's a marvel, immediately testing the stickiness on your fingers.

Oh wait, if you haven't had since then, wouldn't this be your first time eating a- eating cake? Wow, he can't even remember his first time.

“I'm afraid it's too early for sweets now darling. Let's save that for after lunch, hm?” Utowin catches her sleeve when the lady reaches for the treat. She shakes him off and he smiles wider.

“I'm afraid you haven't been made my acquaintance ma’am.” Leg forward, cap off, bow low at the waist– what his mother calls charming his father calls obnoxious. It's some of both. 

“I'm Utowin, junior Knight of the Knights Moralis, but I suppose the cap tops it off, huh? And you are?”

“Madam Valorie. House Verity, I have been made this darling’s caretaker.” Her eyes fall up and down his form before she shakes her head.

“It's very kind of you to check on her, but the Knights Moralis can rest assured- she's in capable hands.”

“Actually, Captain Kinana has left me the task of ensuring her wellbeing and education. I wasn't aware that House Verity’s orders trump our own.” He plops right on the windowsill, between you both. She tugs her cloak out from under his ass.

“Family has the right of guardianship in such delicate circumstances, young knight.”

“Direct family. Are you direct?” The woman looks nothing like you. “I don't think so.” Nothing but the same blue on her tongue. She doesn't speak up enough for him to get a better look.

But if she notices he's looking, she makes no note of it. “We had thought-”

“Exactly. You did not consult.” He nods his head towards you and finally, you start eating the darn cake, eyes exploding in a wonder.

The woman, Valorie, continues anyway. “--That she would be more secure with those of her own kind.”

“So witches. Well I fit that bill so you can rest assured, I got it.”

He can't help but feel he made a mistake saying that, because before the words fully leave his mouth she's smiling. 

“Oh, but she's not a witch.”

His foot stops tapping for a moment, but he keeps up the motion. “What are you talking about?” The sunlight warbles under sea, light ribbons slicing over his head and cap. 

“Only specific members of House Verity are allowed to be witches. Before, yes, our darling ‘fit the bill’. But no longer.”

“...How. And why?”

And she does this little smirk, Utowin's seen it, seen it in adults before they're tired of his bullshit, seen it his teachers faces before they leave and their substitute replaces them; the ‘I know something you don't poor child' look. 

“I'm afraid it's not an appropriate topic to discuss with children,” she lowers her head.

Bullocks. It's not appropriate to talk about it yet she's living it right now?

He's not dealing with this. He slides off the sill and faces the woman with as much authority as he can command. 

“I am a junior Knight Moralis, and this girl has been placed within my care. If you wish to see her, please alert the knights before any unrequested visits. 

“I'm sure you're aware of the nurses desk where you might sign out, yes? It's by the front door, ma’am.”

It's true that no witch, besides the wise council, has the right to deny the orders of a Knight Moralis, not even a junior. It is why the woman wears a heavier frown, why she stands and walks her tush right out.

But not before stopping at the door and telling you, “Remember what we talked about darling. I'll see you soon, hopefully.”

They both listen to her footsteps descend the stairs, her muffled voice towards the nurses. 

“What did she say to you?” It doesn't come out as curious as he hoped it'd sound. You're using your tooth to scrape out honey stuck in your nail, and you're obviously not looking at him. “Hm?”

“I don't wanna talk about it. She asked me questions and…” you pause, thumb still in your mouth. “She makes me feel like I'm in trouble.”

“...”

Well, that's not fair. You're gonna make him feel like a bad guy now.

“Hm. Did she ask you what the stars were made of?”

“Huh?”

“Or clouds? What about how deep the ocean is? Or how many blades of grass there is in the world?”

“No? I don't know that,” your voice warbles and cuts too.

“Okay okay. Simpler questions then? Uh…. How many strands of hair are on your head?”

“She asked me what my favorite color was,” you say, picking the crumbs off the napkin, and Utowin goes quiet. “And I don't know because I don't remember from before. She asked me what my favorite flower was but I don– didn’t,” you cough, “remember what flowers are so then she told me what flowers are. There's those outside.” You point out the window and he sees the color in the grass. But they're too high up to see them properly.

“And… do you, like them? The flowers.” 

“I guess. I've never really seen a flower before but Valerie says these are flowers too,” you kick your feet up–the bottom of your smock dress has little embroidered poppies. 

“I don't know how they got on my dress if I never went outside though. And Maddie carried me here so I didn't touch the one in the cup in the hall. They weren't there when you first brought me here and came back. I was just sleeping and then they were here this day.”

…Goodness. He has his work cut out for him.

 He sits back down next to you, leaning over to inspect your embroidered flowers too. “Flowers grow from the ground- stuff that comes from uh, the ground, dirt, are called plants.”

“Flowers are plants.”

“Yes.”

“Plants come from dirt.”

“Yeah.” 

“Am I a plant? Is that why there's flowers on me?” You blink, grabbing at your dress. “That means that I’m dirt. Urgh-” Suddenly, you gargle, a grating sound, hand coming to your mouth like you’re going to vomit.

“Hey hey–?!” Is this how the curse works? Lie and then here, pain? Because it seems to hurt. Bad. Your feet kick, heels thumping against the sill in restless, pained energy. 

“No- I'm- not. I'm not dirt. Then why did she put me in the dirt…?”

She. “What are you doing?” You're stuttering out– testing words. 

You swing your feet some more, clear your throat with a dry cough. Your voice is still small, whispers and murmurs, really. Raising it you crack and lose it.

“Valorie told me to ask a simple question if my mouth starts burning. It helps to…see where I should put my words next. Yes or no.”

“And if it doesn't hurt then it's real.”

“Is it?” Your head pops up. You have eye crusties and honey on your chin. “Valorie said questions are safe. What do you mean by ‘real’?”

Huh. So she didn't tell you about the curse. Of course, but you don't seem like the type of kid to go sleuthing for secrets or answering back your own questions like ‘could I sneak into a meeting of the wise unnoticed?’

“Real means… honest. Facts, truth. Would you like to learn about, um, real stuff?” Utowin guesses your media training didn't extend yet to body language. You perk up like a sugar pilled rabbit.

He guesses the sugar is his fault. “Oh, I guess that's a yes then?”

“Yes! Please? I need to learn. I wanna know.”

“Okay, I'll teach you! You might not be a plant, but you're still a little sprout.” He pokes her nose, her forehead. 

“So we're gonna give you lots of water,” another poke, “and sunlight,” behind her ear to make her laugh,”to help you grow up big and smart!” 

She wiggles away, laughing. “I already do all that?”

“Well, water and sun literally, but also metaphorically.”

“Huh?”

So that where he explains metaphors, and photosynthesis, and gosh he’s so dumb he almost forgot the word, but you're so on board by the time his explanation is done. 

You look so glad he doesn't have it in him to ask you any questions about the incident, that mysterious She– it’s too soon.

You just got out of the grave yesterday, for crying out loud.

When he steps outside he waves at you from the ground and you hesitantly wave from the window back. You watch him go.

Utowin is usually not allowed at these things, escorting witches here, sure, keeping wait outside, sure, but never inside.

Wise council meetings are more mundane than he thought they'd be. Or at least they start that way. But he has to thank the stars for it because he doesn't think you'd be able to handle this.

So, he's here for you, technically. And so are they.

Half of the room is filled with red cloaks of the knights, and the other half is divided by the gleaming scale cloaks and caps of House Verity. A single red ribbon hangs as a tassel, some more worn than others, like flayed tongues, flicking from a lizard's mouth.

Only those in front, with more intact ribbons, he notes, are the most vocal, the others stare in contempt, solemn silence. It's creepy.

“As her Father-Master is deceased we do have primary guardianship of the child.”

“Her mother has not yet been reached. Until we or the child have contact with her and convey the details of the situation and reach agreement, she is under the custody of the Knights Moralis.”

“In extenuating circumstances only–”

“Is this not an extraordinary circumstance?”

“It's been days! How hard is it to reach her?!”

He has to think, as not only part of the Wise council, and as Captain of the knights, aren’t the scales tilted more towards Captain Kinana’s favor? You wouldn’t think so based on the dip in her brow.

“Madam and sir witches, the child is still healing from what the Brimmed Hats have done to her and her atelier. In any situation or case, she will be held under our care.”

“And that! One of our own is still missing! She was meant as the Watchful Eye of that atelier to ensure the child’s education was up to par. How come she just up and vanished?”

He wonders if your dad was part of any House. Utowin saw no sign of his cap, or of the Watchful eye in his searching, though her and your caps were there When was the Dad’s? What happened to the Watchful Eye? 

Can’t very well say ‘we don't know’, though, right?

Gaius reads from a stack of reports, his own might even be there. “While there is no sign of the Watchful Eye, our forensic team of outsiders has identified copious amounts of her blood mixed with the father’s. The scene was already compromised when we our forensics team came, but based on the blood sprays, she's suffered either intense blunt force trauma, or a violent stabbing.” Sheeeesh?!

“We’re still uncovering what we can, and we theorize she, or, her body, might have met a similar fate to, to the child. Only she did not–”

“She what, didn’t make it? What ‘similar’ fate? And what’s the boy for, hm?” the room turns to Utowin, and he automatically straightens in his front-row seat. 

What the heck. There's so many of them. Why are they so angry.

“Our junior knight Utowin is here to relay his events of that evening. His testimony is crucial and unbiased. Utowin. If you would take to the witness stand.”

Slowly, he stands. He drags his feet before he gets it in his mind to walk more assertively in a room full of pariahs.

There's a weird, thing, on the desk of the stand. It looks like a gramophone, but the horn thing is doubled, one facing him and one out. Where there's a track, there's a disk with an iridescent spell.

He doesn't recognize it, he can’t even begin to.

A scale cloaked male sails forth, sharp nosed and prim, gesturing to the magic device. “This here is a special relic from the House of Verity. We only use it for- those not of our house, in extreme circumstances, you see.”

“Um, okay." He has to look around it to see the man. "What should I do?”

“Speak into it. First state your name and occupation, and if your word rings true, it will be recorded on the track and we may hear. Nothing will ring out if you lie, though of course, we, the track, will tell.”

Wait the heck, this is so useful. Were they hiding something like this for how long?

“Well,” the man nods as Utowin leans into the horn facing him, speaking into it. “My name is Utowin, and I'm from the witch town Ghodrey. I’m a junior knight in the Knight’s Moralis, within the Great Hall.”

“And can you tell us what happened this, incidental night?”

“Yeah. We were going to stop at this remote atelier, a wellness check, you know? But when we arrived, there was blood, well a lot of it. There was only the man's body. Her cap, and the Watchful Eye’s was there. It was near evening, but the fireplace was unlit and the glowlamps, weren’t glowing.”

His eyes gleam sharp, and he nods. “Go on.”

“Captain Kinana immediately secured the area, and called for back up–” oh? Wait, what was that? He said his sentence, but he only heard the second part of it.

He doesn't dare look at her. “She had blocked our view before calling for more men. My partner and I were allowed to secure and look over a three mile radius, and keep away any outsiders. We noticed the search patrol was extended, and decided we ought to help more as well, looking for, a person, clues.”

“And did you?”

“Yes. I found the girl.”

Murmurs. “...How did you find her?”

“I heard her. I thought it was an injured animal, or something, so I took my lamp. She was at the bottom of this small mound of a hill with a blueberry bush on top and she…”

“She…?”

“She was, crawling herself out from the dirt. Half tangled in these thorns, like the thing tried dragging her down and keeping her. My partner found us and we finished untangled her, then took her to the Healing Spire, right before it started to rain.” Huh. Again. Part of his sentence went blank at the end.

The man's finger taps against his elbow. “Anything else young man, anything of note?”

He has to wait, dig into the memories and dredge them up.

“She had on a witch's cloak but she was in pajamas. She didn't have her shoes, so her feet were the worst of it all, she's still healing. She didn't have her cap on either.”

“And has she said anything to you about–”

“You’re asking him about the events of that night, not anything after,” Captain cuts him off. “Unless this is in line with that sort of inquiry–”

“It is, ma'am, if you’d allow me to finish. Boy, Utowin, did the child tell you of anything of what occurred, the night or instance you found her?”

Nothing. Nothing, unless you want to count the panic attack he caused, where you mentioned a ‘she’. 

“She still got me. She got me. Because I don't remember! And that man! I don't- I don't remember? No, I don't remember-”

Your father must have tried to protect you. Even his dad would, so definitely, for someone who loved you… Did you have to watch your father die, before or after the memory wipe? What about your aunt? She must ahve protected you too.

You're so small. “No, sir,” his voice rings clear. “She was injured and panicking. She told nothing.”

He stares, with his too sharp eyes, but what can he do? Utowin told the truth. So he nods, a basic cursory thanks, and moves to take the needle off the track. But before he does, Utowin grabs his hand, and speaks into the gramophone once more.

“Forgive me sir, but, what is your name?”

He frowns, confused. “House Verity. Joseph.”

“If I can ask another question of my own, Sir witch,” he holds onto the gramophone with the other hand, his voice still reaching into it. “Will she be alright? With or in your care, nonetheless?"

And the man, he doesn't know who he is but for once, he looks at him like he's actually there and not a part of the decor.

With that look in his eyes Utowin lets him take the gramophone back, and smile his words into it. “Yes. To both your questions, young man.”

“How far along should an eight year old be in school?” 

Easthies glances up only to return to his pages not a second later.

“You should know. You're not far off.”

“Excuse you?”

“Short stories, elementary grammar. A good grasp on basic addition and subtraction, basic multiplication. Division is harder but probable. Outsider children have a better grasp on the sciences, if only that witches aren't allowed to foray into those subjects. Basic history points.” He eyes him again, gaze a bloody bullseye. “Why?”

“Well, the girls under my care, right? She forgot that, she should know, uh, well I should teach her–” he fumbles under that direct look. It's still hard to really hold Easthies’ gaze, he can be kinda intense about it.

“You are a Knight Moralis, and your task is to watch over the girl, to keep her wellbeing. What is this about? You're not usually one for the books.”

“I'm kinda like her Watchful Eye now though, yeah?” He leans against the table, a book falls but the spine falls flat on his extended foot. “Watchful eyes gotta know things.”

“... Watchful eye. That's an apt way of looking at things.” His book snaps close with a satisfying sound, but Utowin is looking at the look on his face. Danger.

“Oh. Uh oh. I know that face-! What are you thinking of-” Easthies holds his face back by palm. Downer.

“Children need education and discipline, both of which you lack. Yet you aim to teach her.”

He slumps. “Ouch.”

“Another plot to get out of your lessons I bet. But, I'll help you.”

“Wait, you will?” Easthies lets him go and Utowin's chin almost lands on the table, his hands save him. 

“Easthies-! You gotta be careful-” 

“I'll draw up a lesson plan, all you’ll have to do is follow it. I'll convince our Captain to officially approve it too; with her education in our hands, and less interactions with that House, the better.”

Is House Verity really that notorious? Utowin can't help but think, and then a week goes by, and your healing progresses, slowly. 

He meets you on the window sill every day and leaves you there too, waving to you when he leaves. You don't hesitate in waving back anymore.

When he's there he puffs breath onto the glass and shows you basic sigils: wind, fire, light, enlarge, earth, shrink, water. Even with the fog gone your fingerprints leave smudges on the glass.

“I'm glad she has one friend close her age visiting her,” the nurse that pressed the captain from that first night sneaks a few candies in Utowin's pocket. Her name is Maddie, with a curly, messy bob of blonde.

“She's silent as an owl whenever we try to speak to her. Eyes as big as one too. Just a few hums, nodding or shaking her head. I tried to bring my children, hoping it was just shyness, but she didn't speak to them either.”

You have something different to say. “I did talk to them. They just kept asking me questions I couldn't answer and then they ran off to play hide and seek.”

“Do you know the rules? Why didn't you join them?”

“...I know the rules because I watched them play. Then the seeker wanted me to tell them where they hid but then the others got mad at me even though I said nothing and left. "

"You coulda followed them."

“...I can't stand on my feet too long Utowin.” A week later and your feet are still bandaged, pricks and gashes scabbing slowly.

Early in this arrangement you asked him what he does for training. You've asked everyday of the week since, and everyday Utowin shows you the basic stances they taught him. Your eyes are so eager he thinks you'd have tried them yourself if you could walk properly.

“Wait, does Maddie carry you to the windowsill everyday? How do you get to the bath or bed or use the bathroom then?” But you go silent, leaving him to wonder. 

“...Is it really that bad? Are your feet really that damaged?” he picks up your foot, cotton and soft gauze wrapped thick. Your face goes red, still you say nothing.

Utowin wonders what could those kids have asked you, and why couldn't you answer? Your curse makes it so that you have to tell the truth on threat of pain, so even if you could force a lie, the pain is so obvious there's no point.

But you're not compelled to answer. You're not compelled to talk to the people you don’t want to, not him, or Maddie, or Madame Valorie, or tell him how each new day, each new smock has your favorite flower. You're not compelled to sit on that windowsill everyday with that open view of Spire garden, perched on that sill like a bird ready to flit off. 

He sighs, a loud push of breath. “Okay. Alright I–”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Huh?”

"Yeah. you can't make me."

All bets, off. “...Alright, brat, that's it!” 

“Huh-?!” Your voice pitches when Utowin picks you up, walk off, you flail for a bit before steadying yourself and he's already starting down the stairs when you get your bearings.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?”

“You've been stuck inside for over a week straight, that's not good for anyone! Some fresh air will do you right.” 

He carries you on his back. It's just a walk around the garden. Then a run, then a gallop with you on his shoulders around the whole Spire that has you hopping and hollering, voice cracking under the strain. Bandaged fingers grip and flinch in his hair. You're not heavy, and that's worrying. Were you even eating, before all this mess?

He points to the flowers and you don't see them for the whales you’re counting in the distance. Schools of fish swarming under pools of light. It's a blue day, heavy under ocean and you laugh when a frog fish jumps at you from the garden wall.

You stick your hands in the mist basin and then your whole face, and Utowin has to stop laughing so hard or he's going to drop you. But you're not heavy. He can carry you.

Easthies hands him a giant book full of annotations and schedules blocks, and tells him to follow it to the letter. In it, he sees assigned readings, basic arithmetic problem sets, sheets of dotted letters to trace. It's dizzying, but he sets aside three sleepless nights to pour over the material. 

“Think of this like your water and sunlight Sprout, because we’re gonna grow your brain real big with all this!”

You don't like the grammar or multiplication sets. You like tracing the letters and reading books best. He tries to watch over your letter tracing but you hunch over your work like a goblin. They come out pretty good anyways.

“Huh. Well, you were an apprentice. I guess your body just remembers how to write the letters and stuff.“

“Huh. So, should I try with my other hand?”

“Honestly…? I don't know, go for it!” You both cheer. Your voice cracks and Utowin laughs and so do you because you don't have the social knowledge to guess he might be laughing at you instead of with you. You just think that laughter is something you join in.

He’s walking the corridors of the great hall, tracking really, he’s not old enough to guard  but that doesn't mean he can't map, when a hand grips his sleeve.

He’s startled– (It's not that dark how’d they sneak up on me how who) and shakes the hand off violently.

“F-forgive me, young sir!” It's an old man. Old witch, with a dark scaled, ribbon tasseled cap. Only the ribbon looks like an owlcat got to it, ragged threads barely reaching his shoulders.

That Joseph fellows ribbon hung to his shins. “I didn't mean to startle you. I only wish to speak with you. Please, it is urgent.” Utowin rises out of the half stance he took, but still angles his body to the other end of the hall. No ones around.

“Pretty quiet sir, to sneak up on a Knight Moralis. You know we always welcome new recruits?”

He chuckles. “I'm afraid I'm a little too old for the job, young sir. You recognize my cap, yes?” 

“House Verity,” he nods and takes off the cap, revealing thinning hair. “I’m junior Knight Utowin. I’m happy to assist in whatever you may need, but if you want to talk about the facts of the case I'm afraid I'm not the Knight for this. Neither is this the place.”

“I wanted to talk about the child, the girl you found,” his hands tighten around the cap.

“Surely the Captain would be willing to give you some details-”

“The House won't allow me near her. You see, my daughter eloped so she was removed from the House Verities family registry. Still a member, we do still track the descendants through the family tree, but because of this I’m not listed as the child’s grandfather, even after my daughter was placed back within the registry.” He steps forward, Utowin absently takes a step back.

“If you need me to repeat anything just say, I don't have much time.”

“What–”

“I am the girl's biological grandfather. I'm unable to claim her because her mother has refused to come forward in this manner and because she is not listed as my grandchild within the registry.

“Even if I were, the House would deem me unfit because of the nature of my sigil. Fully formed, I'm afraid.” Utowin isn't in the habit of looking into peoples mouths but at the mention, he looks. Gross, weird the guy sticks out his whole tongue and– oh wow the whole thing is blue, wow. 

There's a dark sigil, too small and intricate to make out, and he puts his tongue back before he could even look.

“I’ve lived a long life. A long life is not conducive for an honest tongue. Especially the places I’ve been. Me just talking to you, even showing you the curse, is enough for… ten lashes, I’d say.”

Utowin almost doesn't catch the muttering. “I-what, sorry, did you just say lashes?”

“Not actual lashes boy, not anymore, only the conservatives still do that. No, I mean knife to my ribbon. An intact ribbon is an honest tongue, a perfect ribbon is the honest truth…” He starts muttering. And, yeah, this man might be crazy. But when Utowin takes a step back, his eyes dart to his face. Muttering silenced.

“Forgive me. I do not mean to startle you.”

“Yeah… um, what's your name? Maybe I can give my captain word about–”

“I don't trust your captain anymore than I trust the wings on your cap can help you fly. She wants her too, she wants to use her too.”

Utowin blinks. Straightens. “The Captain ensures her wellbeing and comfort while she's going through her healing.”

“And wait until after she's healed. No, no, that's not it, I wanted to ask–” he reaches out again but Utowin sidesteps the grab.

“How is she? The child? Is she hurt? Is she eating, sleeping? We started sharing letters in secret before all this, oh, her father was such a good man, and my daughter…” His head falls into his hands, and the way his shoulder shivers up and down, he’s started crying.

Utowin…does not know how to handle this. “Listen, if you want to see her, just go to my captain and she’ll allow visitation.”

“But she won’t, they won't allow me, only you–”

“I’m a junior knight and I'm not allowed to speak on the case or victim anymore than I have. Speak with my Captain. Please, have a good day.”

“But-!” Utowin turns to go, he reaches again; A hand reaches out and grabs him by the thin, frail wrist. He winces and Utowin turns.

Knight Gaius stands between them, blocking the old witch from moving forward. “Excuse you Sir witch, but Knight Utowin here is completing his rounds. You're interrupting him.”

“Junior Knights don't have authorization to guard halls... So why are you lying?” The man's eyes widen, turning accusing up at Knight Gaius, unblinking. “I hate liars.”

Knight Gaius frowns, and he knows from experience how crushing his grip can be. “You and your whole scuttling clan do.” He tosses the man’s wrist back to him, he lurches, but stays upright.

“But, you are harassing a young knight. It's my duty as his senior to step in.”

“And mine as a grandfather to inquire about the wellbeing of my child’s child.”

“Tell that to you daughter,” Gaius’ lip curls, and Utowin’s eyes are going back and forth like a tennis match.

“Which one? The other you can't reach and the next is missing. Why can't you just do your damn job and find her, find her–!”

“Woah woah woah.” From behind; Knight Markus and the suddenly Captain stand, and Utowin blinks from his eyes the darkness they just emerged from.

“Let’s take a breather, hm? I know your lungs might not be in the best of health but let’s try hm?”

“Dont… infantilize me–”

“If you are indeed her grandfather, I'd be happy to take you to my office to discuss some of the… finer details of the case that are too delicate for these young ears.” Captain Kinana has never perfected the comforting smile, so the intimidating one is the one she relies on, stepping to block the witch from him and Knight Gaius.

“Furthermore I don't appreciate House Verity tracking and stalking my apprentices, so? The others can come to or be arrested by the knight behind them. Knight Gaius, might you escort Knight Utowin to wherever he’s going?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turns, with a hand to guide Utowin away, and as he turns to leave Utowin sees the figures of three scale cloaked folks emerge from the shadows.

It's only Gaius’ hand that keeps him steady, even if his heart rate isn’t.

“...You need to be more aware of your surroundings Utowin.”

“Was that…a gathering shadow spell?”

“Good guess. Something of the sort we’ll no doubt check now. Must be how they get around collecting all that gossip, hm?” Gaius grouches. “Strange old kook. The lot of them, crooked and rotten like the tongues in their mouths."

Gaius… Isn't the type to badmouth anyone. He’s usually the quiet man, reliable and steady. Hearing the grit in his voice curls something in his chest.

“If only they’d all be silent forever.”

“What did the guy mean by his daughter missing? I know we can't get to her mom.”

There's a tick in his jaw. “...The Watchful Eye of that Atelier was the girl's maternal aunt.”

“So, one is unreachable, and the other dead, you're saying.”

“Possibly. Yes. We don't know.” Giaus sighs, and turns him around to face him, once they reach more common areas.

“House Verity is a secluded House, with clear hierarchy. But they’re all cunning, and they’re all sneaking. Don’t ever be alone with one, especially those with a frayed ribbon.”

“Frayed? That man had threads.”

“They rip up their ribbons per every lie, or deceit. It's an alternative to the lashing they used to give. Public humiliation and ostracization is another kind of pain, I suppose.”

He didn't get a good look at your cap that night. Or your Aunts. How intact were they?

Or did you have more scars he hasn’t seen?

“House Verity has doubled their snooping now that the girl is well on her way to recovery. We’re going to be moving her into the Great Hall soon.”

“Where? Will I still see her?”

“While Captain has you on that job, sure.” A sharp jab smarts in his chest. A reminder. This isn't a friendship. This is an assignment.

“She’ll be put close to you. So you can keep an eye on her and we can keep an eye on you. Captain was going to give you this before you were ambushed.”

“I wasn't ambushed. Yet.” He grumbles, but takes what Gaisu hands him. It's a doorknob, copper colored and cool.

“Put in the space we carved in your door. Turn it, and it’ll lead you straight to the girl’s room. Knock, of course.”

“Of course, I have manners.” he pockets the knob.

“Don’t worry about losing it either. It only works with your or her handprints.”

“How did you get our handprints?”

“From your prints when you first joined the Knights. Her when we were checking the witch registry.”

“...Isn’t this technically forbidden magic?”

He rolls his eyes. “No. You need to hit the books again. Your handprint works like a key. Nothing affects your mind or body.” Gaius slaps him on the back, Utowin stumbles.

“You wanted to go get your reps in before curfew, right? Go, and don’t cause any more trouble. Remember to shower after.”

“Gaius.”

“Wash behind the ears too!”

“Gaius!” He laughs, ire and gloom dispelled, and walks away.

“Sprout~! I'm back from my job. Where are–oh.” 

Seems he came a bit early today– Madame Valorie doesn't look at him, just whatever she has in her hands that he hears a faint ticking from. “Exhale.”

It's a bright morning, training skipped in favor of this; Slow and even, you let loose a whistle of air, quick. Your cheeks suck in and you're holding your breath as he draws closer.

“...Again.” a minute passes, you exhale again and– “Sit up straight.” You straighten your back and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Uh, what is this for…?”

“Shhhh,” Madame Valorie clicks the stopwatch in her hand and sets it in her lap. “Last time. Exhale.” There's barely any breath that comes out of you, stuttering puffs you push out, mouth tight and face red. Your hands are balled in the fabric of your dress, forget me nots today.

“Twenty seconds. Breathe in.” You grimace, but your fingers tap out the seconds as your chest slowly expands.

“Hold… Release. Now inhale, forty seconds.”

“Hold. Release. A minute.”

“You’re finished.” You don't gasp for air, but the relief is there when your shoulders finally drop and your hand presses against your sternum.

“Was that, breathe control?”

Madame Valorie is digging through her bag, some lizard leather, like she has much to pack up before she leaves. “Its control, for when the curse activates.”

“Shouldn’t you teach her to not activate the curse?”

“We can't help slip ups, but we can be prepared for them if they occur. Tale of the Wild boar and the fox,” she looks at the book under his arm, which he instinctively pulls under his cloak. He tries to play it off casual but she smiles.

“Aesops fables for children. It's a good book. I’ll give your captain that for the next suggestion.”

Utowin doesn't hide his frown as she leaves, but he doesn't turn to watch her. He’s looking at you, hand still on your chest, and you're watching him, wide eyed and still breath-recovering.

Then you grin, and the room seems brighter for it. “A new book?”

“Oh, so no ‘hi, how are you, I missed you, you look so handsome today Sir Utowin.’”

“Hi, how are you? I miss you always. You’re very handsome today Sir Utowin.”

“Ugh, er–” He didn't expect that– and in his fluster you slip the book under his arm and start scanning the contents. You always do that first.

“Well, um ... thank you?” Does he stink? He ran here to burn off the weird buzzing energy. He hopes he doesn't stink.

“You’re welcome. Peter Rabbit? Oh the rascal.” Ha. Rascal sounds like a funny word when you say it. You flip through the gilded pages, and scan through the very short stories.

“...What's the point of putting the point of the lessons in the back if the kids are supposed to understand them during?”

“This book is for younger kids. It's a classic though.”

“Hm..” You're scanning through the stories, fast, and your eyes are alert things, nothing like the stagnant pools they used to be, especially that  first night in the Spire–

“Oh yeah! Sprout, you might be leaving the Spire soon.” 

The pages stop flitting through your fingers. You freeze, and Utowin almost thinks you've stopped breathing until he checks with a finger held under your nose.

“Um, is that not a good thing?”

You wave your face, lifting the book to move his hand. “...It could be. But where am I going? Why? My feet still hurt alot.”

“Well, everything else is ready to heal on its own. I think those bandages are just excessive now. You ought to let your injuries breathe.”

“I do. After my bath. When I eat. When I go to bed.”

“Uh huh. Well, the stuff with your House is still being dealt with, so, I pulled a few strings, and, you’ll be put in a room close to mine!” 

You shut the book. “...So I can see you more often?”

“Yeah!” Never mind he only uses his room to sleep. He’ll definitely visit you.

“Captain Kinana even gave me a special doorknob so I don't have to walk all the way to your room. Just put it in, twist, open and I'm there in case of anything.”

“That sounds nice. Will I still be able to come see Maddie and them?”

“Of course!”

“When are we going?”

“I think...? In another week? Just to make sure you're mostly alright. But… we do have to have another meeting with your House first to go…over? A few things? I don't know but I think you'll have to go too. Don't worry though, I’ll be there with you.”

“This time.” Huh? “Alright.” You went to meetings without him?

You swing your feet off the sill to swing idly in the air. 

Wait, how many meetings have you been too? “But you have to help me Utowin.”

“With what?” This book of tales is simple enough.

“If I’m moving in the Castle, I need to learn a spell.”

“Huh?” A spell. “What for?”

“I’m going to be a witch Utowin. I should know spells.” You look down at the book, your hands, the floor, avoiding his eyes.

“I was a witch. I did know spells. Now I know almost nothing about that.”

[Apparently, one of the few allowed to be witches, within her house, and special enough to be in a secluded atelier with a master not of House Verity. Special case for a special person. You must have been crazy talented.]

He has to hesitate. “I'm not sure if that's against the rules…”

“It's not. I can't lie, Utowin, it's not against the rules. Please?” You hop off and stumble, and Utowin catches you like he already said yes.

“What would you even want to learn for your first spell? I’m not very good at casting spells, so you know.”

“I want you to teach me how to fly,” your eyes sparkle, and you point towards the window.

“I’ve been waving to you everyday from the window and I’ve seen you fly before Utowin, you flew down when you found me and I know you can fly again, but you don't because you wave to me from down there every day.

“I want to fly with you,” you nod, and Utowin sighs, because fuuuuccck he's starting to realize he's a little weak to making you happy. 

Little sprout. How can he deny you any sun?

It's simple enough. The sylph shoe spell isn't one he's drawn himself but it's simple and identifiable enough for him to do. He has to take off his own shoe because he cant remember how its spelt actually and he explains the wind sigil in the middle, noting to her the difference between a wind sigil that commands air, and one that creates it, the sigil in this spell is some weird mix of the two he can't fully explain but it works and you seem to get it.

You take out paper and a charcoal pencil and practise with that first, carefully looking and copying the half a sigil on his boot. Utowin explains the convergence and levitation keystones; your eyes light up on levitation and he has to remind you to keep both of them even, one more than the other would mess the spell up. Then you grab some bandages– some thick soft cotton-patches that are sticky on one end, and with some ink and a quill he keeps on hand, draw out the spell carefully, Your eyes don't blink as you focus, breaths so even they don't stir your chest.

(Was he ever this dedicated, even while drawing his first spell?)

It's even. The lines are smooth. You drew light and even and you blew on them bit by bit so that the ink wouldn't smuggle or bleed on the gauze. Two spells, one for each foot, You just have to connect the circles.

“I don't think this is such a good idea….” He regrets this, now.

“It's okay. The nurses will help us if anything goes wrong and you'll take care of me, right, Utowin?” He stares in befuddlement when you tiptoe gingerly to the window, pulling yourself up to kneel there and reach back, slapping the spells on your feet, over the bandages. He hurries putting his boots back on when you unlock the window.

Then you leap out into the sky.

Utowin scrambles after you, but you must have already connected the outer circle? How? When you were putting them on? Because you wobble and balance horrifyingly on one foot, giggling and trying to raise your other foot to connect the circle with an ink smudged finger.

“Wait, wait!” Utowin steps out with a heel click, holding you upright, your foot still raised and you still reaching. You're laughing like crazy.

“Wait a second!” 

“It worked!”

“Yeah, and I said wait–” He can’t help laughing too. “I don't think we need the other spell if this one is working fine!”

“I can't keep balancing on one foot!” You laugh harder when he finally grabs your other foot, everyone's ticklish there. You, sensitive, moreso.

“Technically you added, stop it, you added enough levitation signs so I know-hey- you’re not at risk of falling–”

Oh no. Oh no, it's a split second before he thinks it, training kicking in when you grab your heel to connect the outer circle with an ink splotched nail. A wobbly finish, a line gone too long and then–

You shoot back as soon as the spell activates, a gust of air in his face, a screech from you, before he blasts off after you.

He knew this was a bad idea!

At least you don't seem to be taking this as lightly- you're smart, trying to offset the extra power of the second spell by putting your feet in opposite directions– one in front one back. It works before you wobble out of sync and go barrel rolling in another direction like a tumbleweed in a picture book. 

The first time he sees this he has to struggle really, really hard not to burst into laughter.

You're not hurt, or in danger of zooming off too far. This is a good show of spellcasting consequences actually. “I told you one was enough!”

“Shut up!” You can't reach your feet without some serious core power, which, you don't have, so you're trying to peel the pad off with your foot. 

Okay, he is laughing. “Wait a– wait a minute I got you.” 

“Shut up!”

“I got you.”

“It was fine beffoooreee-” you whine, and before he could even get close enough to peel it off– one peels off the other rips– Stars damn it shit– he plummets after you.

He didn't realize how high up you two were. At least four stories which is definitely a death drop–

He catches you, by the arm trying to slow down your descent to ground since, yeah, he doesn't want to rip your arm off, but you end up falling into a tree, and guess what, barreling past a bird nest his foot gets caught between two branches and his shoe comes off. Great.

It's fine. He’ll protect you with his body. You guys won't die from this height.

But you struggle, and just before you break through the leaves and then the ground, a gust of wind buffets the ground underneath them, bringing this down to definitely a bruised rib to oh this is just gonna hurt.

It still hurts, the landing. Both of you lay panting, and after a minute you lift up a small scrap of paper– ripped now, a spell for generating air, completed and elementary, and just saved their asses.

“Thanks for… for catching me,” you swallow.

“No problem,” he tries to say. “Of course I would.” Instead, it comes out as laughter, thick and wheezing. Your little ribcage shakes against his chest, under his hand as you start laughing too.

The nurses will come outside, moments later, to see the both of you flattening a flower bed. You'll both be back to laughter, and Utowin’s head will be laying in a bed or marigolds while he points and names out every flower in that garden.

Kinana finds him the next day in the library, as he's pondering which books to bring you. 

He wants to read them first to see if you get the gist of the story but he doesn't think he could read them faster than your attacks on your current reading material. You're already a third through that Peter Rabbit collection.

“Rainbow wolf is a horrible book.” He jumps five feet in the air- literally, Kinana's voice has him stand at alert which unfortunately clicks his feet together to activate the spell. 

She chuckles on his way down, even as other patrons look over. “I see you're invested.”

“Uh, yes, Captain. I'm taking my job very seriously.”

“Seriously, I can't say. Enthusiastically, most certainly. Flying?" She smirks, and a buzz starts under his collar.

"That's the spell she wanted to learn, Captain. I thought it was simple enough."

"It was. Is. Useful to. But next time, use a pair of slippers or something of more stable structure. Period pads arent very good use besies there purpose."

"Peri- what?"

"You dont know what a period pad looks like? Those were period pads she wore."

"...Why?! Shes too young for that! Shes eight!" A sharp hush has him trying to hide in his collar like a turtle, and Captain chuckles as his face burns. He touched those!!

"No. She's nine, Utowin, and some girls start at that age. But you can leave that to the nurses should that happen. Or one of the woman knights when she comes over here, okay?"

"Okay..." That. Was period pads? Yours, specifically. Or were they just in your bathroom for convenience?

No wonder Maddie laughed so hard when you described what happened. Not too much of course, as an Knight, Utowin made sure she knew what she needed to.

Captain takes the book out of his hands and places it back on the shelf. 

“Have you read ‘The Rainbow wolf’?” 

“No, we never had that tale in Ghodrey.”

“I'm no elegant tale recounter. A rainbow wolf with gleaming scales wonders why no one in the whole forest wants to be their friend, when they get the bright idea to share their scales with all the animals. In the end, they're scaleless, and each crreature is pleased with their ounce of flesh, happy to be their friend now.”

What the heck. “That sounds like a horrible story. Why does the library even have it?”

“It's important to keep books, even those you don't like. A lesson to be found, for sure. Though for some, it's simply a nostalgic story. Especially for some of House Verity." She walks off towards another shelf and Utowin follows her.

“Well that sounds about right. I bet Madame Valorie would stress the lesson sharing is caring or some elementary junk.”

“But that is a good lesson for children to learn, Utowin. It only becomes petty when some children have less to give than others.”

“She's just a kid. What's she got to give?”

“Answers, Utowin.” Her voice firms. She is gentle with examining the books, putting them back after a cursory glance.

“Negotiations have started breaking down with House Verity, in part because our investigation has gotten nowhere. We understand the cause of death was not magic, but blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Forensics leads us to believe the murderer was in a struggle with the witches to prevent them from drawing a spell, and pushed him back, tripping him and matching the blood on a table corner. As for the eye, several corners suggest a bloody struggle.”

“... But no clue who did it.”

“The only clue is that she's a woman.”

“She said that first night, ‘She got me and that man.’”

“Possibly she killed him after her memory was wiped. Thats why she might not know what happened to the Watchful Eye. House Verity doesn't care what happened to her father. And the girl has no remaining family from his side. They want to integrate her back into their House.”

Integrate her back. “Have we reached her mom yet?”

“Rosalina is elusive enough as is,” Captain says, like first name-dropping your mother isn't just a huge revelation as to why she's so involved. 

He recalls the way Captain hugged them both, that night. Like…if something happened or if she wasn't found she'd…

[She’d what? ‘Fall apart?’ Hear yourself Utowin.]

Was she friends with her mom? Apprentice-mates? 

“She's probably somewhere deep, with her head all stuck in a book.” Definitely a history. 

“Captain, why is it such a bad thing for her to be reintegrated in her House? Surely, with her curse, among others of her own kind–” her hand falls heavy and steel gripped, he has to swallow down a wince. Her thumb presses into his collarbone harshly.  

“The only kind there are is witches and outsiders. Even then, we're both still people, Utowin.” She sighs, and drags a hand down her face.

“Children of House Verity aren't born with the full curse, so they're specially trained to not activate it and finish the full sigil. Only those who make it through all their tests with nothing, or just a blue dot are allowed to become witches.

“The girl was special since Rosalina had given primary guardianship to her Father, who the girl chose as her master, instead of one of the House witches, or Rosalina herself. She's kept only the blue dot, but…”

“But?” No elegant recounter she says, yet her words have him enraptured all the same. “It's gotten worse, hasn't it.”

“The outer seal is becoming visible. Granted, it was faint when we first got her, so she might've had it before. But that's just leverage for the House to say that the Knights, or anyone else for that matter, are unfit to watch her.”

“What about that Madame Valorie? She's watching over her too.”

“Madame Valorie is there only when we are not, to help her navigate around the curse. But she's also there to monitor, if not sabotage.”

They would do that? Utowin thinks of your grimace. Your kicking feet and dry cough. 

“What happens if she gets the full sigil? Or even a part?”

“House Verity will claim her. And those with even a partially activated sigil are pushed into a vow of silence.”

“...They’re, she's a witch. There are laws. They can't do that.”

“With guardianship they can. As long as they do it before we catch it, and before they become independednt adults.” She scans the lower shelves. “By 'catch it' I mean when the conservatives enforce it by removing the vocal chords. That's how they ensure the vow.”

“What the fuck is that.” How is that legal, or not labelled child abuse?

“How can the Knights just let them do that-!” The look she gives him shuts him up, but he has to squeeze his nails into his hand to keep his voice there, against the fresh new skin. 

Her jaw moves, tight like a bowstring. Words shoot like arrows, whistling in wind.

“Traditional members of the Knights Moralis feel any word they speak is a separate case for use of forbidden magic. But the witches of House Verity always become a librarian’s hand within the tower of Tomes, so they're a bit of an exception.”

Gaius. “Is that why we can't reach her mom? Is she a Librarian's assistant?” The curl of his lip.

“I'll do you one better. Rosalina's a Librarian herself.”

Utowin stops in his tracks. The weight of the books in his hands feel so trivial yet so heavy, and he can't help but think of the weight of you, arms around your thighs, lifting you, you, balancing as still as you can in his arms.

(Your mother is a Librarian. If anything, that should make her easier to reach. She’s ignoring you.)

Staring at ocean sky. Grass in your hair. Laughter on the wind. 

(Frantic kook of a grandfather, Captain's prodding, Gaius’ scorn, dead aunt, dead dad, dead mom–)

And him. Him. You need this. He can't let whatever is coming (and its coming) happen to you. (He needs this too.)

“Whatever the girl can recount is our only clue to finding the perpetrator and keeping her safe.”

“Is that part of the plan then?” His voice dulls. “Play keep away with House Verity until stars know how long?”

“Until we know what we must, Utowin.”

“And what-”

“Until she trusts us enough to not make a decision that'll ruin the rest of her life. House of Verity is not for her, you understand?”

Bold, Impertinent, he's often been called. “It sounds more like you want her to trust us when we'll be doing the same things you allude to them doing.”

“I can assure you,” she frowns, “our methods are much kinder, and nobler than House Verity. And she will have a choice- it'll just help more if she's more inclined. 

“So you’re going to take this seriously, Utowin.” She bends over, and her eyes gloom like lanterns in a haze. 

“I gave you an order. We need something, anything, pronto. Before they can hide her away forever.”

“...I'll see if I can get you anything for you soon.” She doesn't look satisfied, but she nods, and rises back up with that motion. 

“Good.”

The last time you saw yourself was the reflection in the eyes of your murderer.

You know this. You told yourself this.

She must have been close, with her milk scented breath and metal pieces. Her wet eyes and dark hands. She wiped your memory, and she killed you. And then she buried you with a kiss and a spell.

Not, you. You don't even have a name. Whoever you were before. She killed her.

And your father. And your aunt. You heard one of the nurses gossip about it when you were able to slip your way downstairs, sliding on the covered bandages of your knees. They looked so guilty. You avoid them now, and so do they. Only Maddie is nice to you.

Me. Nice to me.

…That needs practice.

Your father. I had a father. An aunt from your mom's side. Do you look like her? Them? Are there ghosts in your face when you look at people and thats why thye look so uncomfortable? The blonde lady said you look just like your mom, but you have your dad's eyes, and hands.

You have a mom, alive, like the blond Captain told you, like how Maddie is a mom, and not a dad. Your mom might be dead, the way they whisper about her, too. 

You're alone most of the time most days. Of course you have your letter tracing and books. They're so easy so you practise with you other dominant hand and say its more natural because if not he won't come and see you. You have homework and windows and burning air–not time, with Madame Valorie. She's already come today and she even smiled and squeezed your-my hand and told me ‘good job’, tongue burning. But it's him you're waiting for. Utowin.

He lets me talk. He lets me ask the questions instead, most times. I can draw spells, and eat sweets, and if I try to walk and fall he’ll catch me. If.

Because there's something wrong with you. Maybe a week or two is too soon but the memory of hands dragging you down, down, makes the blood pound in your feet.

You–I try to walk, in the early mornings before anyone comes in. Practice the way he stands and moves, the way Maddie twirls when she turns, how straight the Captain is.

But then you remember, and I fall.

So we can sit, and wait, because Valorie is home with her milk breath and breathing exercises, and the voices of the nurses are greeting him downstairs, you hear Maddie say something, something, then his footsteps racing up the stairs, like your heart stepping up your throat.

And then the sun walks into your room.