Chapter Text
That night in the cavern has been difficult to get off his mind. Of course it was scary —the inevitable stray nightmares about the shambling form of the creatures he’d encountered have already begun to make themselves known, and likely will continue to do so off and on, perhaps for the rest of his life. For the first couple of nights afterward, he’d been entirely too weary to turn out the light in the safety of his own room, purposefully arranging his schedule so that he wouldn’t be out to see even the first hint of the coming nightfall.
Three days and three nights, however, have washed away the shock of it, and he’s already begun to feel perfectly safe; he just won’t go back into the mines for a while (and, admittedly, Errol had warned him against that on multiple occasions.)
However– quite absurdly– it’s not just the danger that had stuck with him. Sometimes, he’d close his eyes expecting a reminder of those empty, hungry sockets, and instead be supplied with visions of a human figure, hidden by cloak and movement so that the only true clarity gleaned is in the quick confidence of his swing. When one is assisted in some way—when one is rescued from something they’re so unequipped to handle, it’s natural to be thankful, but, absurdly, Eiland finds himself just as caught up in the broadness of his rescuer’s shoulders as the kindness in the act itself.
And it’s not that he didn’t notice such details before, or catch the way Riyes and March like to conspire about just what Balor does to require the upkeep and repairs that he does. It’s just that, now, Eiland’s mind has been supplied with something far too concrete, and his imagination has taken this as permission to run completely amok.
And the decline… –the refusal! The strange generosity and humility is nothing new, either. Nora, as well as anyone with a free moment to hear her grumbling, can attest.
But Eiland simply doesn’t know if he can cope with just leaving it as is. Baron Wiscar would never leave such a selfless and dire act unrewarded—regardless of however commonplace it might apparently seem. (It’s not commonplace; Eiland could have died!)
…And Errol still doesn’t know. At least– Eiland hasn’t told him - has pretty much avoided him entirely, in fact. He feels guilty about not listening, and even more guilty about avoiding him, but he doesn’t know what to do other than just continuing to do it—presumably forever. Who knows. Things will sort themselves out eventually.
Is Balor going to tell Errol what happened? Surely he has no reason to. However, it’s another reason not to let the matter rest. What is it that Maple had mentioned the other day? ‘Hush money’? Yes. Eiland needs to ensure that word of his decisions won’t reach Errol, or negatively influence the children, for that matter!!!
Eiland’s eyes refocus briefly on the pen in his hand, unmoving on the page, the ink on the tip threatening to dry out as he’s completely halted in writing a letter to his colleague in his distraction. He sets it down. Perhaps Balor won’t accept his Tesserae, but there are other ways to return a favor.
—
He needs a plan in order to enact it, and for that, Eiland needs intel. Of course, the best place to study from is often the source of the question itself. However, the idea of speaking to Balor without good justification quickly proves itself to be as challenging as approaching Errol, so he elects to walk a different route.
Balor doesn’t want money. What else might he want? Does he like cake? Everyone likes cake, right? Maybe he could order one of those delectable chocolate cakes from the inn, and maybe Balor won't want a whole cake, so he'll just give him a big slice, and then…
–No, that’s selfish.
The inn’s culinary mastery could still work in his favor, however. Somebody there is likely to have a better idea of Balor’s specific tastes.
It’s an odd time; so odd that, when he walks through the doors, the ever-welcoming space is quiet and nearly empty. Reina is present and busy in the kitchen, though Eiland doesn’t get much in the way of clues for what it is she’s doing. She turns swiftly at the sound of the doors, and smiles somewhat distractedly at Eiland before turning back to her work. “Hi! I’ll be with you in a minute. I’m almost done.”
“Take your time,” Eiland urges. “I’m in no hurry.” In truth: Reina could tell him to come back in the evening without a word of explanation and he wouldn’t begrudge her anything. She works miracles that he’d never hope to interrupt. However, as much as Eiland respects and likes her, he realizes quickly that he’d much rather be speaking to either of her parents. When they have questions, they tend to ask with their eyes instead of their mouths. Reina’s a bit more direct.
He’s already here, though. He’ll just have to hope for the best.
“Alright, what can I get for you, Eiland?”
Eiland tries to act as normal as possible when he regards her. There’s no way for him to know if it’s effective. “Actually, I have a question for you, if that’s okay?”
“Sure is, unless you’re asking where we bury the bodies.”
“No, I’ve realized I’ll have to be craftier for that. I – …” Eiland clears his throat, words suddenly threatening to escape him. “Well, I figured you or your parents would know the most about the town’s food preferences, so I wanted to ask for some advice.”
“Oh? Is this for Adeline?”
“Ah, no it's… a personal matter.”
A look, and Eiland already knows his hopes were in vain. “Are you asking someone on a date?”
The noise which escapes him in response is far from normal. “ I'd simply like to know– ... what kind of food or dessert Balor likes.”
That was the wrong thing to say. “You're asking Balor on a date??!”
“ No! — I mean…”
In a small way, Eiland gives up.
“The occasion isn’t important. Do you have an answer for me?”
Reina is silent for a long moment, squinting at him over the counter. It’s not the verbal questioning he’d dreaded. He doubts it’s her newest project she’s contemplating, though that’s what the expression, the quiet, reminds him of. Why isn’t she talking? What’s she planning? Perhaps Eiland should drop the matter in its entirety and take Balor at his word.
…No, he can’t do that. It’s all he can do to try and keep the fluster off his face, and in all likelihood, he’s failing. (If only father were visiting. There’s no way he could bring himself to write about this.)
“ ...He likes curry.” Says Reina eventually, blessedly. –”At least, that’s what he usually orders from us. Sweet and savory combos seem to be his favorite, but as far as I know, he’s not very inclined to sweet things themselves—definitely not like some people I know.”
Eiland returns her teasing smile wearily. Then, he considers what she’s given him. Balor doesn’t like sweets? This doesn’t really compute, but to each their own. It begs the question, however… Can one just gift somebody a dinner item? It doesn’t sound quite right.
“Does that help you at all?” Reina asks him. He considers it a moment longer, and concludes that…
“It’s an answer to my question, but I don’t think it’s a solution.”
“So that’s a no.”
“I thank you for your time regardless.”
“It’s still a no. Are you really not gonna explain why you’re asking me this?”
“There’s nothing to explain.” Eiland says as easily and pleasantly as he can manage. “Have a nice day, Reina.”
—
Eiland is doing his absolute best to walk the line of polite and blunt which March seems to prefer. One might assume this conversation to be more difficult than the one with Reina. It's not. It's easier in every way, and any mincing of words is just his best attempt to avoid conflict, and make today a productive one instead of tomorrow. Preferably, he’ll be able to forget about all this before the end of the week.
However, March just looks at him strangely. “What do I know about Balor? Same as everybody else, probably.”
“I only ask because he seems to give you a lot of business, so I wondered if you might have learned anything about him during your interactions.”
“Nope. He’s a great customer, meaning he doesn’t bother me with chitchat. Ask Olric, or Ryis.”
Olric’s call travels right through the blacksmith shop’s closed door. “Did I hear my name?” It opens, and his cheerful face pops out the moment after. “Oh, hi, Eiland! Can we help ya with something?”
March has silently turned away and is beginning to apply some kind of oil to the surface of the shop’s anvil, so Eiland approaches Olric where he is to regard him separately, discarding the urge to ask what it is he’s doing, and why it needs to be done. Perhaps he’ll pick up a book to look over the basics of blacksmithing when he has some free time. As an archaeologist, he knows more than the average person, but there’s some glaring blindspots due to not actually entering the trade. “Hello, Olric. I suppose I’m… snooping, a little bit. Nothing in particular. Has Balor ever mentioned anything about himself that the other townsfolk might not know?”
Unlike March, Olric’s answer is quick and intriguing. “He likes rocks! We talked about them for a bit the last time he came in.”
March, however, counters this. “Pretty sure he was just being polite.”
“I don’t know, bro. He seemed to know his stuff, and he did say something about liking things that sparkle.”
“Yeah. Sparkly shit is valuable—or people pay a lot for it, anyway.”
Eiland considers all of this. Balor is a competent merchant; it would make sense for him to appreciate value. Surely there’s a precious gem or piece of jewelry of some sort among Eiland’s things he could be rid of… ‘hush money’, literally. But could it be too literal? Tesserae is what Eiland had offered initially, and Balor turned it down. Regardless of the reasoning, the negative preference for money is the only preference given; it just wouldn’t make sense to deliver something only for the sake of monetary value with this in mind.
However, March’s theory could also be wrong. Balor styles himself rather consistently, and it often includes jewelry, even if it’s more subtle than the way Aunt Elsie, Juniper, and Eiland himself like to accessorize. Does this speak to a genuine preference, or desired public image?
There’s still Ryis. Maybe Nora?
He goes to each, and doesn’t get much for answers, either.
“Sorry. The dude’s a mystery.” Ryis said with a shrug.
“I’m not convinced I’d like whatever I found out.” Said Nora with a scowl.
What does anybody know about Balor? What does Eiland know? He doesn’t even know enough to confidently get him a gift.
Balor’s a pillar of their community at this point. He saved Eiland’s life the other day, and acted as if it was nothing. He’s competent, and kind, and to Eiland’s knowledge—not really even friends with anybody in town.
The gemstones are Eiland’s only lead. A nice piece of jewelry is an acceptable gift on many occasions. He genuinely tried, and even Baron Wiscar would probably say it’s enough.
…
Eiland does not pick out a piece of jewelry. It’s hard to justify, but his resolve doesn’t change.
He shelves the issue, does what he needs to do for the day, and eventually goes to sleep.