Two weeks had passed since Trixie and the others had come to stay at Emerick's estate, and to say the experience had been eventful would be an understatement. Emerick had quickly learned that while Trixie was an excellent big sister and there was no denying she had her family's best interests at heart, she was a terrible manager.
Initially, from what he understood, Jacoby had helped Trixie assign tasks to each of her family members, and it seemed like everything would transition smoothly. After their contract was forged, however, there was an incident in the kitchen with one of the youngest and Trixie completely overhauled the assignments. Now, most of the little ones, and there were a lot of them, were locked in a room all day with one of the teens, Liron, for lessons. It also seemed that she reassigned the teens simply to spite Jacoby, simply because it was agreed he and Emerick weren't to interfere with family's assignments. He was all too happy to let her figure things out, but this was getting unmanageable. At the rate things were going, he'd have to step in sooner than he'd anticipated.
"Do you have any inclination when you're father may remove those ghastly heads on pikes from the gates?" Jacoby questioned. "I would like to speak with Lady Esmyria about getting a change of assignment."
Emerick had wondered how long the gruesome display would continue as well. Normally Arnwald would be placated after a couple of days, but by all accounts he was still seething. In the days after the children were extracted from the orphanages linked to the Honey Pot institute, Emerick and his father had led a massive hunt to round up everybody involved, and thanks to the evidence collected and the mysterious death of the headmaster who was—evidently—also the book keeper who they found amongst the bodies that had been dumped in the yard, they had successfully captured most of the facilitators and benefactors.
There were a few slave traders that had managed to escape justice, but that had a lot to do with the fact they weren't currently within the bounds of Arnwald's Territory. The guards were under strict orders to arrest the troupes involved on sight if they were foolish enough to attempt to return, though after the violent and gruesome executions his father had enacted very publicly, Emerick doubted they'd be stupid enough to attempt it. Trixie and the other teens had be offered the opportunity to witness the executions if they so desired, but most the kids had been kept far away from the barbaric displays.
While it could be argued Arnwald's tactics in handling the guilty had been excessive, Emerick felt that his father was fully justified in his actions. However the other nobles and even the common citizens of the region felt about the extremes of the executions, there was no denying it had been effective. Gruesome or not, the horrors the guilty had committed were announced and displayed for everyone to see, so much so that Arnwald was more popular than ever with the people, and the nobles had no room to contest his actions. Additionally, even though the bulk of the children were of mixed lineage, the public support for them had been staggering. That said, Esmyria and the rest of Emerick's mothers had yet to return to the palace, and it was doubtful they would anytime soon.
"Oh don't be so dramatic," Emerick patted his shoulder. "It's not that bad."
"They nearly burned the kitchen down this morning," Jacoby's ears twitched. "The gardens have been dismantled, and there's so much soapy water on the floor, it's impossible to stand on. I cannot live like this any longer!"
"They are just children," Emerick shrugged. "At least they're trying."
"Either you will do something, or I will leave," Jacoby insisted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have bags to pack."
Emerick tried not to laugh when Jacoby turned to storm off down the hall, then promptly slipped and fell on his side. Grumbling irritably, he picked himself back up and began more carefully treading the slick floors, though he shot Emerick a pointed glare.
"Be careful now, the floors are a little slick," Emerick called. He laughed as Jacoby extended a crude gesture over his shoulder.
Smiling to himself, he turned to go find Orval, then slipped and fell on his own butt. He swore he could hear Jacoby laughing in the distance, but he shrugged it off. Perhaps it was time he intervened, the condition of the floor was becoming quite hazardous.
"Excuse me sir!" A young boy armed with a soapy sponge and some kind of makeshift rag skates flew by him. Emerick watched him zip by one way, then managed to catch him on the return trip. At least he'd discovered the culprit responsible for the soapy floors.
"Easy there," He cautioned, holding the kid partially to keep him from sliding away and partially to steady himself. "Don't you think the floors are clean enough? You put any more soap down and I'm going to need to chisel the residue off!"
"Really?" The kid stared at him with a frown. "But what else am I supposed to do?"
"What do you like to do?" Emerick questioned. He struggled to remember the boy's name.
Though they hadn't cared for the children in any sense of the word, the instructors of the honey pot and the matrons of the orphanages had kept detailed records of all of the children under them. Names, birthdates, blood type, ethnicity… everything that could potentially increase or decrease their potential 'worth.' Even with the list right in front of his face, Emerick struggled to remember who was who, especially amongst the younger kids. He hoped that would improve as he spent more time with them.
"I like to wash," the boy said with a shrug. "Clothes, walls, floors… you name it, I wash it."
"Why not stick to the laundry then?" Emerick questioned. "I'm sure there must still be a fair amount of that. There are a lot of people to wash for."
"I finished that hours ago," the boy replied. "And that was nothing. I used to wash for the whole orphanage. Sometimes others as well. I'm a good washer."
"Indeed," Emerick mused. "Forgive me, but I can be pretty bad with names. What was yours again?"
"Jan," the boy nodded. "And I am a human-elf half blood, in case you forgot that too."
"Jan," Emerick repeated, trying to commit it to memory. "Good to know. Well, Jan, is there any way I can convince you to stop mopping the floor? It's no longer cleaning it, and you might just ruin it if you keep this up."
"Hmm…" Jan considered him for a moment. "Well, I guess that would be bad. Trixie can't afford to pay for a new floor, and I guess she has been complaining about it too…" He sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll stop for now."
"Thank you," Emerick nodded.
"I'm doing this for big sis," Jan replied, eyeing him skeptically. "I still don't trust you yet. If you hurt her, I'll make sure you have more than slippery floors to contend with."
"I will keep that in mind," Emerick nodded, then watched as Jan righted himself and started walking down the hall. How the boy kept his balance was beyond Emerick, but it didn't change the fact he was jealous.
Smiling at Jan's bold behavior, Emerick resumed his slow, but steady progress to finding Orval. He passed several more of the children on the way, all attempting to complete some task or chore, but ultimately failing. The slick floor didn't help their efforts. Regardless of their repeated failures, he was impressed with their work ethic.
"I told you to stay here!" he came across Trixie who was lecturing Ripley and a few of the other youngest children. They were all standing at the door to a room, and most of the children had mutiny in their eyes.
"But I wanna help!" Ripley argued. Several of the kids around him nodded in agreement.
"You can help buy learning your numbers and letters!" Trixie replied, hands on hips. "Liron has spent a lot of time putting the lesson together!"
"No he hasn't!" Ripley replied. Emerick watched them argue for a few more minutes, then let his eyes drift to the children's supposed teacher.
Liron was one of the few he knew by name, mostly due to the fact the fox boy had established himself early on as a trouble maker. Jacoby complained about the 'devious devil's' antics more than just about any other of the children combined. That said, the boy was proving quite cunning and quick witted. He had quite the silver tongue to boot. At one point, he'd managed to steal Orval's sweet roll off his dinner plate and convinced the knight that it was his own fault.
"You'll stay here because I said so, and I'm the boss!" Trixie exclaimed, pulling Emerick's attention back. Apparently she'd run out of good reasons and/or patience.
"Nuh-uh!" Ripley stuck out his lip in a full pout. "Emewick's da boss. He pays you."
"Why you little…" Trixie grit her teeth, but managed to rein in her temper. "You know what, just for that, no dessert."
"Good," Ripley scoffed. "its always gwoss anyway."
"Hate to interrupt," Emerick decided it might be wise to remove Trixie's attention from the boy, "but can I speak with you for a moment my dear?"
"Sure," Trixie replied, shooting Ripley one last glare. He stuck his tongue out by way of response, then stormed into the designated room. She watched him go, then turned to Emerick, hands on hips. "What do you need?"
"How about we speak elsewhere?" He suggested. "Better to avoid possible eavesdroppers, but be careful, the floors are quite slick."