Vol.5, Ch.2, P.2
“Mm.”
“Mm?”
“Mm.”
“Well, what have we here?”
No sooner had we all come into my abode and sat and settled ourselves that Mia then presented to me a plate that she had taken out of a wicker basket. Piled upon it was a veritable mound of pastries. Pies? I thought upon inspection. They did look the part, frankly, being baked, crusted, and roundly shaped, though they were rather small—bite-sized, even, but altogether were sweet to smell and pleasant to behold.
“A greeting dainty, that,” explained Eva. “Pies given to one’s new neighbours—such is tradition here in these parts.”
“Is that right?” I said with a mixture of convincement and wonder. “Makes today’s nugget of knowledge, that does.”
It’s hardly unheard of to hand out treats and gifts upon the occasion of one’s moving. But to present pies—now that was a first to me. What’s more, I’d only ever known of the bigger sorts to be sliced and shared; taking one of these, however, I saw then how truly small they were in the hand. Like little cups of custard they seemed, only clad in crust and feeling somewhat hefty for their size; no doubt they must be packed with filling.
“My thanks, Mia,” I said, before holding my pie up in a sort of toast. “To my new neighbours.” With that, the entire little thing disappeared into my mouth. “Mmm…” I couldn’t help but utter as I began chewing vigorously. Flaky and toothsome, the buttery pie crust soon gave way to such a gush of fruity sweetness that it threatened to seep from my lips. “Now that’s delectable, isn’t it?” I remarked.
“And delicious!” Lise added, whilst half-successfully nibbling away in as lady-like a fashion as she could.
“A well-baked wonder,” was Monika’s measure of it, who gazed charmedly at her half-bitten share. No disagreement from me; truly was it a treat, and an accomplishment besides to the baker.
“Apples, grapes—a whole forest of fruit in just one bite,” I observed, before finding a sweet smidgen stuck to the side of my mouth. “Ah, and this,” I said, tasting it. “Currant, is it? First time I’ve had it.”
And as I finished, there was Mia, smiling softly and offering me another serving. Taking it gladly, I jammed the pastry down the old abyss.
“Mince pies they are,” Eva elaborated, “filled with fruits dried and soaked in cider. Dear Mia made them all; only a little of my help was needed.”
“That so? Well, you’ve certainly earned your baker’s hat, haven’t you, Mia?” I said, patting the girl on her pate. “The pie’s an absolute parade of fruit, and tastes it, too. A new favourite of mine, if I’m honest.”
With that, I snatched yet another and scoffed it down, whilst from the side, I spied Monika looking on with an inscrutable glimmer in her eyes.
“Ah, bold little Mia,” she said, “baking her way into the Herr’s heart.”
At the outrageous remark, I coughed, nigh-spewing out my pie. Lise gave me a look—a rather lethal one, at that. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d say she took me for some luster of little children.
“‘Heart’?” I began emphatically. “Nay, nay. ‘Little’ is right; Mia’s too young for that sort of stuff, I say.”
And there I saw Mia’s erstwhile smile souring to a sullen pout. The bawdy talk was putting her ill at ease, if I had to guess. Indeed, this was hardly a topic for ears yet so green. The hearts of children, their thoughts, their emotions, all be surprisingly impressionable, after all, and worse still, irreversibly so. Monika ought’ve known this, being an adult. Instead, however, I found her unrelenting.
“‘Little’, yes,” she seemed to concede, before saying, “yet she be thirteen now, that is truer still.”
“I’m not little…” I heard Mia murmuring.
“But that’s just the thing, Monika,” I debated. “Thirteen is little.”
“N… no, it’s not…” Mia murmured again. Rather insistent about it she seemed, though I could scarce guess why. Sure, one would be forgiven for dismissing one’s own immaturities, but that’s certainly not a thing for a child to trouble herself with.
There’s nothing for it, I thought, Mia deserves a good, stern talk about this later.
“Oh, come now, Herr Rolf,” Monika said, obstinate, yet as soft as ever. “All but eight winters separate you two—a gap easy-bridged, I say. Why, it is fourteen that separates my own parents, you should know.”
“Nay, it’s not the gap—it’s Mia’s present age that’s the sorest rub here,” I explained. There was something about Monika, I’d been thinking. Gentle and refined she would seem on the surface, but dig a mite deeper, and one would find hers a rather… “daring” personality, as one might say. Indeed, as the conversation continued, I found myself inly writing her name on my list of wily persons to be wary of.
“Ah, well!” Monika cried asudden, smiling and clapping her hands together—an epiphany seemed to have struck home. “Then you would not refuse her, then, come a few years’ time!” she said gleefully. “Would you, Herr Rolf?”
What a headache.
Eva herself certainly would not put up with this nonsense, being Mia’s sister and staunch supporter and all, but in looking to her for a helpful word or three, I instead found the elder sister only smiling nervously. Beside her, on the other hand, was Lise with her brows raised as though she, too, had achieved some enlightenment.
“Thinking about it,” the jarl-daughter began, “dear Arno himself’s ever a passenger on Sig’s pate, that’s for true. Might there be something to Men, then, I wonder? That makes them magnets for little nippers?”
Mia pouted again. “I’m not a nipper…”
Oh, bother. This boded ill for the girl. At first, I’d pried myself away from Mia moons ago, that she might be as remote from any memory of war as could be, my very presence included. But with our paths now intertwined yet again, I was resolved to see to her hale and wholesome upbringing. Trouble was, with such unchaste chatter about—from the mouths of her elders, no less—that seemed all but impossible.
“Anyway—Eva,” I said, keen to change the topic. “Hensen hasn’t proven too hard a move for you, I hope? If ever you need aught, just give the word. I’ll be happy to help.”
“Many thanks, Herr Rolf,” Eva answered, “but we are well, I think, for the time being. The jarl has graced us with aid, that the good matron and I may open our orphanage soon; I can provide for Mia a good and long while yet.”
She spoke warmly, Eva, a clear contrast to the occasion of our very first meeting down in a cellar of her ruined village. What harshness she had for me then was, by now, softened to a gracious reserve. Were I to guess, my saving her sister in the nick of time back at Balasthea might’ve had much to do with it.
“The village be dear to us, and much do I miss it, I admit…” she said wistfully, “…but, well, I suppose it is there to welcome us always, if ever should homesickness set in.”
Leaving the place of her birth and rearing—no doubt had this been a hard decision for Eva. And that’s to say naught of Mia, who, for her part, had been torn from her home and flung far to a city foreign and unforgiving. Surely must she miss the village even more so. And now to must leave it again…
But, it couldn’t be helped; their home, the village, had been reduced to a mere husk of itself. And of its villagers, only Mia and the precious few that had been living down there in that cellar remained. No, not even during the six moons since was discovered another living denizen of that place… indeed, not one at all. And so to live again, to start again amidst such desolation was sure to be hard-going, as any would imagine.
There were some silver linings to it all, however. With a memorial having been erected in the village, both it and the land upon which it stood were certain to be preserved. And with not more than a day’s horse ride between there and Hensen, it was just as Eva had said: with relative leisure could they return, should the need ever arise.
All things considered, I thought well of their decision to move. The comforts of Hensen were sure to succour them, and as well, the warmth of its people.
“Rolf’s right,” nodded Lise. “His help—all of our help is yours to have, Eva. And… that reminds me.” At that moment, the jarl-daughter sat herself up straight and faced Eva directly. “On behalf of the host, I must apologise in full to you, Eva and Mia,” Lise said with all sincerity. “The realmers’ assault on Balasthea… never should it have happened. But, too dim was our sight, too clouded our ken. Yet nonetheless, you two have done well to flee like you did. And so, I offer you my apology, and as well, my thanks—for your bravery, for being alive today with us all.”
With those words said, Lise then solemnly set hand to bosom and, closing her eyes, bowed graciously to the sisters. Monika and myself followed suit.
She’d spoken the truth of it. Enormously grateful we were that they had fled and survived amidst an enemy assault. Hope is ever fleeting in war, and as bravers of the fray, always did we weary to see it fade from the eyes of innocents. And so to know that amongst them were those in whom hope yet burnt bright was itself a great comfort.
“These words be late in coming,” Lise said on. “For that, too, I’m sorry. One thing drives out another, you see. Before I knew it, half a year had passed.”
“N-no, it is quite all right. Really,” answered Eva, flustered. “You gambled your lives to save us, after all. And in that, you have succeeded.” And there, Eva went, stood behind Mia, and placed her hands upon her little sister’s shoulders. “But, rather than say sorry, say ‘good going’ to dear Mia here,” she said proudly. “Without her, we would not have such a day as this, I think.”
Now the sudden centre of attention, Mia yielded what seemed to me a slight look of surprise. Just as Eva said, however, much of our fortunes in that battle were indeed in thanks to Mia’s bravery and wit, for it was she who had thought to set the oaken keep aflame. This had proven a great trouble to the knights, who needed the fort intact. And it was only whilst they were scrambling about to put out the blaze that we were able to penetrate their defences and put a stop to their schemes.
“Good going, indeed, Mia,” I said. “I always knew you were a bright one.”
I then caressed her crown in praise. Lise and Monika, too, smiled gladly upon Mia.
That being said, applauding a child for having turned a building all to ash did sit rather uneasily on my conscience. Unsure of what to say further, I simply did on as I was doing: pat our little hero on her pate.
But in seeing her squint ticklishly at the gesture, I began to think to myself—nay… caution myself.
That I mustn’t mistake Mia as a means to fill the void in me.
A void left after casting the Buckmann name.
…After abandoning what bond I once shared with my blood-family.
I cannot. I will not.
Mia serves no replacement for Felicia. To think otherwise would be an insult to the former. No; my part in her life is to fulfil a promise. A promise to bring better days unto her. A promise of a future free of sorrow. That, and only that.
Of such I reminded myself as I looked upon the little girl.
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