"Sorry to bother you," Emerick sighed, and broached the topic that had spurred him to find Orval in the first place, "but have you heard any word of when my father will be removing those heads off the pikes?"
"Not yet," Orval shrugged. "You think the gates are bad, you should see the throne room and the squares where the executions took place. It's going to take them ages to get rid of the gore."
"I did see it," Emerick shook his head. He had witnessed the blood and entrails strewn across the marble floors and stone paths first hand. Emerick considered himself fairly resilient and desensitized to violence but he was still having nightmares from the experience. He wasn't sure if it still looked that way now—he'd made a point of avoiding the main palace and the stench that lingered over it—but at one point Arnwald's reception hall had looked like the back of a butcher's shop.
"Oh, right," Orval rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was with you for all that."
"Yes," Emerick smiled and nudged him playfully. "Going senile on me old man?"
"I'm not old!" Orval growled. "If necessary, I'll put your ass in the dirt to prove it!"
"Like to see you try" Emerick teased. "You haven't managed that in ages!"
"That's only because I've been holding back!" Orval retorted. "I'll take you at the arena, full bore! Then will see!"
"Fun as that sounds," Emerick chuckled. "I actually need you available to train someone else."
"Someone…" Orval thought a moment, then frowned as he realized who Emerick had in mind. "You want me to train your little girl friend? You sure she's up for that?"
"It depends on her," Emerick replied. "And more specifically, I would want you teaching her the basics. Assuming things go the way they look like they're going I'm anticipating taking her as my apprentice."
"Wouldn't it be easier just to take her as your wife?" Orval cocked his head.
"Easier? Perhaps, but I doubt she'd go for that. She's not ready to be married yet," Emerick shrugged. "I'm content to wait. Besides, this way is proving to be quite fun in its own right."
"Fun?" Orval shook his head. "Is that what you call it? Looks freaking miserable to me."
"And that, good sir, is why you don't even have a girlfriend," Emerick replied. "I've gotten sidetracked. We were speaking of my father and the condition of the gates."
"It's not fair how you do that," Orval grumbled.
"Did you say something?" Emerick questioned, though he had heard him clearly.
"Nothing. Don't mind me." Orval heaved a sigh. "Anyway, no. I don't think he'll take the pikes down any time soon. Why?"
"I was hoping to meet with my mothers," Emerick replied. "I suspect Jacoby would like to see them as well."
"You know where they're staying," Orval shrugged. "Why not go visit them?"
"Normally, I would, but I worry about what I would come back to find," Emerick replied.
"That's a fair point," Orval frowned. "Come to think of it, that's probably exactly why Jacoby hasn't gone himself."
"Well, thanks anyway," Emerick called, turning to leave. "It was nice chatting with you."
"As always, young lord," Orval gave him a mocking bow and waved him off with a crude gesture and a smile. "Gotta love the new status quo around here."
"Indeed," Emerick chuckled, then started back up the stone path to the estate. It was time to check in on the orc brothers, whether they were still arguing or not.
He was curious to see what alterations had been made to the shed. Already, Rathus had made something of a ventilation system so they didn't have to work with the doors open. Using some old tables and other discarded wood, Rathus had also made several workbenches from scratch. They weren't fancy, and they wouldn't hold too much weight, but they worked well enough for Titus's experiments.
No shouting could be heard from the door as he approached it, so Emerick squared his shoulders and walked up to the shed. As Rathus had requested, he knocked on the door and waited a few moments until he heard the call, "come in" before he entered. It was always best to be careful not to take them off guard while they worked.
"Was wondering when you would turn up," Rathus called. He was at a workbench on the far side of the shed putting together what looked like a music box. There were a handful of completed ones stacked beside the table, none looked exactly the same, but all were beautiful in their own right. Emerick was curious to see them function.
"How are you guys settling in?" Emerick asked, moving towards the larger, but friendlier orc. Titus was still somewhat hostile, and anytime Emerick was nearby he was in the habit of pretending he didn't exist.
"Well enough," Rathus replied, gesturing around the workspace.
It was still crude, and fairly empty, but Emerick could see where the orc had made small improvements. In addition to the work benches and the vent, there was now something that looked like a rotary fan on the ceiling. Based on the visible gears and shafts that lead from it down the wall, there was a crank that would wind up a coil which would rotate the fan for a set amount of time. Where or how the orc had gotten the coil was something of a mystery. He would have to ask Jacoby about it later, if anyone knew it was him.
"Glad to hear it," Emerick nodded. "Out of curiosity, are those music boxes?" He couldn't resist moving closer to inspect them. Rathus didn't seem troubled, so Emerick ignored Titus's low, warning growl.
"They are," Rathus nodded. He picked one up that looked like a flower bud and set it on the workbench for better view.
Wordlessly, he inserted a key, then wound it a few times. After a soft click sounded, he removed it, and a soft, yet eerie melody chimed from the little box as the petals unfolded to reveal a little dancing girl turning at the center. The movement of the petals was impressive enough, but the dancer was doing more than just spinning. The mechanics Rathus had employed had her arms and legs moving in a constant pirouette. Emerick couldn't even begin to fathom the intricacies involved in engineering the effect, so he stared stunned at the little dancing doll until the song ended and the petals folded back into a bud.
"Wow," Emerick gasped when he finally had the mind to speak. "You made that?"
"Yeah," Rathus nodded. At once, he looked bashful. "Been tinkering for as long as I can remember."
"You taught yourself how to do that?" Emerick asked in awe, eyes still fixed to the music box.
"I spent a lot of time taking things apart and putting it back together," Rathus shrugged. "Phineas used to scavenge old clocks and other things."
"Who's Phineas?" Emerick wondered. Rathus looked stricken. Titus had frozen in place. For a moment, the room filled with unbearable tension as nameless emotions flashed through their expressions. Predictably, Titus was the first to turn back away and resume whatever he was working on. Rathus took a little longer.
"He…" Rathus shook his head a while later. "It's hard to talk about it."
The pain in his expression drew Emerick to the conclusion there was a very tragic backstory involved, but he wasn't sure if it was the right time to pry. Neither brother truly trusted him yet, though Rathus was more civil.
"You could call him Trixie's predecessor," Titus replied stiffly. "You saw how they treated us. I'm sure you can guess well enough what happened."
"I'm sorry," Emerick couldn't think of what else to say. Neither brother responded to his empty and rather pointless apology. He was actually grateful for that fact.
"Any way," Rathus spoke up, "I wanted to talk with you about selling these." He gestured to the music boxes.
"Me?" Emerick pointed to himself to verify. "Why not Trixie?"
"You've got connections," Rathus replied. "And I love the boss, but she's not much of a salesperson. Usually, I'd go to Liron, but she's not letting him off the grounds and there really isn't anyone here to sell to beyond you, Jacoby, and the guards. Pretty much all of you are bachelors, so not really any sense in trying to sell them to you."
"That's a fair point," Emerick chuckled.
He didn't say as much out loud, he didn't want them to think he was offering another handout, but he would happily pay the brothers to make one for each of his many, many sisters and his mothers. Contrary to what Rathus believed, Emerick was also sure that Jacoby would enjoy one for himself. Before he started making commissions though, he wanted to see what Rathus had in mind.
"I think you could find a market," Rathus commented. "I also think you could get a better price than I could."
"I've dabbled in business," Emerick commented, "I could feasibly help, but I'm not much of a salesperson. Is there a reason you are asking me for help?"
"I'm not stupid," Rathus stated bluntly. "There's no way in hell Trixie can afford this place, and I can only assume she's worked out a deal with you. That said, that doesn't mean the rest of us can't contribute. If I can make some money, it can only help her."
"I see," Emerick nodded. Silently, he was thrilled that Rathus had approached him. He was also pleased that the orc was actually thinking of Trixie and ways to help her. Most of the others were clearly protective and fiercely loyal, but none had truly taken time to appreciate the extent of what she was doing for them.
"That one won't admit it," Rathus jerked a thumb to Titus who promptly flipped them both off, "but he's got some pretty good product as well. If you'll take a look, I'm sure there's something we could get to sell."
"Very well," Emerick nodded. "Let's talk business."