Chapter Text
“Barry Brotherhood,” he offered the gilded letter to the man, looking down at him with an indulgent smile. “Paladin. I was sent to supervise a quest.”
“Why are we being sent new supervisors? We requested more supplies, not new idiots trying to snag an easy job.” The woman leaned on the man’s desk, her short red hair flopping into her face as she looked up at Barry without much interest. The man didn’t even bother to take the letter, looking down at meaningless paperwork.
Barry stiffened, holding his head higher. “It is my calling, from the Fates.”
“Oh, I doubt the Fates would stoop to assigning quest supervisors. What, you want a nice soft walk through a meadow, no burrs to hurt your precious ego?” The redhead’s gaping leopard tattoo, denoting her as a mage who had often been in the field, curled around her neck. Barry swore it was snarling at him.
“That’s a stupid metaphor,” the man muttered, nudging her shoulder. “Pick a better one.”
She shoved him lightly. He looked up at her with an expression far too adoring for any Brotherhood member, even one as low ranking as a teacher. She leaned forward to peck a kiss to his forehead, smoothing away his hair. Barry grit his teeth. “I just need approval and an office. Then you two can continue whatever this is.”
He was sure his tone clearly displayed his disgust, but the woman still pressed another kiss to the man’s forehead before drawing away. “You’re kind of a jerk,” she noted. “I guess it fits, for a man sending children to their deaths.”
“How dare you insult the Fates’ design?” he snarled, stepping forward. His knees knocked against the desk. He felt foolish, for a moment, before biting back the awkwardness that had suddenly set in. They were being disrespectful fools, they deserved his anger. He had the right to explode. He had not spent two years in training, finally achieving the glory of being desperately close to reaching paladin rank, only to be stopped for his two years of service by meddling low ranks. He followed the Fates, he truly believed in the Brotherhood’s purpose, and these two had no respect. He had the right to be angry.
Except the woman didn’t seem to think so, glancing to the door, already distracted from his rage. “Oh, Aster! Hey! You should meet our newest quest supervisor, he’s a mess!”
As infuriating as it was to be spoken about as if he was some object to be analyzed, as if he couldn’t hear them, to be so blatantly insulted, he bit back his outrage and stepped back, smoothing his robes. “Barry Brotherhood, I am simply looking for approval, so I can get to work.”
“Aster Brotherhood,” the newest arrival said, looking him over with more scrutiny than he deserved. Her white robes were crisp and lined with the traditional gold, a militant design that was clearly tailored for her. Barry was taller than her, something that brought him more satisfaction than it should have. He stood a bit straighter, glared down at her. She looked up at him, frowning. “Oh, Red’s right, you are a mess. Pretty sure you’re going to burst a blood vessel if you don’t calm down.”
“Can I just get my approval? I would like to actually go to work, instead of having to listen to your drivel.”
“Ooh, big man knows big words,” the man muttered, though he hadn’t looked up since the woman, Red, had kissed his forehead. He was still scratching away with his fountain pen, dipping it in brown ink every so often. Black or gold was traditional. Absurd. Red laughed, though she shouldn’t have, and Barry bit down another growl.
It wasn’t even a funny joke.
“I’ll take care of him, Marrow,” Aster smiled, brushing Barry’s protests aside as she strode towards the desk. She walked like she was on a mission, he noticed. As if she couldn’t be stopped. “I work as a quest supervisor, so I can get you settled in. Stop whining. I’m just as competent as Marrow.”
Red made a face at that, but the other woman ignored her. Barry thought she would be biased anyway. She evidently only liked idiocy. At least Aster seemed competent, if no less annoying. “I have a letter,” he grumbled, shoving the crisp document at her. The edges were creased now, from his clenched fist.
“I’m sure you do,” she smiled, baring her teeth. It wasn’t a nice smile, but at least she took it. “Hopefully your two years are as easy as they can be. You don’t seem like you do well with a challenge.”
“I’m sorry? Can’t take a challenge? I was chosen by the Fates. I’m on track to guard the council.”
Aster laughed. In another world, where she was anything but obnoxious, it would have been a pretty laugh. A pretty laugh to compensate for her absurd nature. “Just saying, Red is mildly herself and you’re practically exploding. Not too impressive.”
“Well, you’re entirely unprofessional,” he blustered. “I don’t see how you’re even a supervisor, you obviously don’t have the temperament.”
“Counterpoint, I’m also a teacher. I get to know the kids that I send on the quests, I get to fight for them to succeed. I actually work with them. Could you teach? I don’t think so, sir.” The honorific sounded like an insult. “So let’s not get into who’s professional, because I’m evidently more competent. Now, let’s get you to your quarters. You’ll be staying here for most of your time, unless you can bear to step outside to help one of your quest kids.” Her tone clearly indicated that she thought he wouldn’t manage a moment outside of the marble walls. Absurd, seeing as he’d taken a week’s trip to get to this area of the Brotherhood’s domain.
He fumed, following her down the pristine white halls. Two hours later, he had scryed a message to his superiors, asking for an additional teaching position. He wouldn’t be outwitted by a woman whose friends couldn’t even hold a proper conversation or do their jobs. It was only an hour later, when he had calmed down and was sitting upon his new armchair with a nice book, that he realized he didn’t like children whatsoever. Only then did he begin to regret.
-
Kids were insufferable, menaces, nightmares. He didn’t know why the Brotherhood bothered to keep them around. He had been working at his teaching position for only a month, yet he was already exhausted. His curriculum was mostly preassigned, but he had the responsibility of designing the worksheets, the assignments, and lecturing a class that hardly listened. Yes, there were a far few who seemed somewhat interested, but their meager attention spans hardly allowed for anything interesting. He swore he’d been a far better student at their age.
He trudged out of his classroom, clutching the stack of quizzes that had just been turned in by all his unruly students. He noticed that one didn’t even bother to turn it in. What had the Brotherhood come to?
“How’s it goin’, Barry?” Red called from down the hall, where she was leaving her own classroom. He groaned, steeling himself for more irritation. Ever since he had started teaching, the mage had taken to bothering him incessantly. Her husband, who he had learned Marrow was, chose to simply not acknowledge him, aside from occasional sardonic comments. It was obnoxious.
“Worse, now that you’re around,” he grunted. She laughed, as if he was joking. He wasn’t.
“Lighten up, bear, c’mon.” Her new nickname for him, because apparently he ought to have one. He didn’t know what he had expected from his post, but constant mockery about his name was not it.
He didn’t like the nickname. It barely made sense.
He chose to ignore her though, rather than bicker, as if he could achieve some moral high ground from that. He ignored the way he bristled as she skipped alongside him. Her paperwork stack seemed significantly less for some reason. She was probably slacking on her work. “Haven’t done much, have you?” he sneered, jerking his head towards her stack.
“Oh, I actually like to break up big exams into little quizzes, so that way the students have more time to process information!” Red’s grin was a little too wide. “Don’t worry, it’s something that I didn’t know when I was a baby teacher! You’ll learn eventually.”
She was infuriatingly condescending. “Seems useless to me.”
“Ah, whatever. We all have our own methods! So, what are you up to? About to go to dinner? Marrow and I are eating in the teacher’s lounge, you should come with us! I’m sure we can find you a seat!”
As a matter of fact, he had been about to go eat. Yet now, with the distasteful idea of sitting with Red and Marrow floating in his mind, he decided to find something else to occupy his time. “I’m actually going to visit the library first, get some more work done before I bother with eating.”
“Well, have fun with that! Don’t forget to eat, bear!” she waved as she turned right and he turned left, finally relieving him of her company. Except now he would have to wait for dinner. Absurd. Disgraceful.
The library, at least, would be a calm enough place that he could get some work done in peace. He held his head higher as he entered, as if his grandeur would be any shade of impressive to the scrawny librarian that worked on the outskirts of the war. A dryad, leaves folded into curls. He allowed them a nod of his head, before making his way towards the reserved rooms, for faculty’s work. Since offices were in short supply, with only the highest achieving them, he had been regretfully informed that he could use the rooms when they were free, or utilize the classroom or his quarters. Irritating, since he felt that he deserved his own office, but he had learned to cope.
He headed towards his typical room, stopping only when he saw a familiar sharply pressed set of white robes through the glass window. Aster. Taking his place, as typical. She must have not had a class the last period, he hadn’t run into her in the hallways. While he could have taken another one of the rooms, they couldn’t all be occupied, he decided to use his typical spot. Aster would have to cope with sharing. Perhaps, if he worked long enough, she would end up leaving.
“Excuse me,” he grunted as he pushed the door open. Aster, head fallen upon her shoulders, looked up with strangely reddened eyes. He frowned at her, letting his stack of papers fall onto the table with a satisfying smack. “Have you been crying?”
“No,” she whispered. She was lying. Obviously she had been crying. She must have simply not wanted the shame of admitting it.
He paused, before deciding to offer her the grace of some sympathy. It wasn’t as if she deserved it, but he wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t heartless. Maybe he wanted to know why she was crying. Yes, that had to be it, or pity. She ought to be pitied.
Aster moved to gather her things, but he shook his head. “No need to get up, I’ll do my work fine even with your company.” He did not question himself, nor note how he had originally wanted to remove her. He was busy pitying her, after all.
“Fine,” she frowned, wiping her eyes.
Barry paused, before giving in to curiosity. “What’s the matter with you, anyway?”
Aster wouldn’t look at him, even as she scratched out a note on the margins of a student’s probably poorly written essay. “Does it matter?”
“Would I be asking if it didn’t? Obviously not. Now explain.” He ran through several excuses for why she should tell him, before settling on, “besides, wouldn’t it be easier to tell someone who doesn’t care that much?”
“You know, telling me you don’t care about me isn’t the best way to wrench out all my secrets,” Aster muttered. He rolled his eyes.
“Yet you’ll tell me anyway.”
“Yes, I will. Maybe I need to get it out of my head.” She tipped her head back, staring up at the blank white ceiling, and he followed her gaze for a moment.
There was nothing there, only a crack of red rust that someone ought to check on at some point, though he doubted they would. This was only an education center, nothing involving politics. The council may have met there at one point but those days were long gone. He supposed Aster was steeling herself for some mental battle. He tried to arrange his expression to seem sympathetic. It was wasted on her, as she didn’t even look at him.
“I was working with one of our students to prepare for a large quest. The Chrysalis,” and that was an artifact he knew well, one he would have loved to pick apart. “She’s dead.”
“She died in battle, hm? The Fates will surely bless her, for it’s a noble thing,” he began. Aster cut him off.
“She killed herself. Threw herself off the ledge of the observatory.”
Barry did not know what to say to that.
“I could have helped her. I knew she went up there, I’d warned her about slipping, but she went up there anyway. It was my fault. There is no glory to be found in a death like that,” and he almost agreed with her, though with a heart that grew heavier as he thought, but she continued, “but it was wrong to push her. She didn’t want to do the quest. It was too much for her. She was only a child.”
“If the Fates willed it,” he attempted, but he knew it would fall upon silenced ears.
“She was a child, Barry. Another bloodstain on my hands. They’re all just children.” He didn’t see what was so useful about children anyway, he had long been taught to trust in the Fates whether it harmed them or not, but he thought he saw a bit more of Aster.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he offered, voice hushed, as if he could be quiet enough to soothe her pain. “I am sure she was a wonderful child.” He wasn’t sure, because how could a child be wonderful, but Aster finally looked at him. The smile she offered was weak and strained, but he felt he had done something. “I’ll be going,” he mumbled, standing again. Perhaps he could go get dinner.
“It’s alright if you stay awhile,” Aster said. “I have more work to do, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
He grunted and sat back down, looking to the quizzes instead of at her. They stayed like that for another two hours, before he finished and let her be. It was only when he reached his own quarters, grumbling about the food that Marrow had eaten before he’d arrived, that he realized he hadn’t minded her company. In fact, perhaps he had enjoyed it.
-
“I brought you lunch,” he grumbled, hoisting the container up as if it could somehow make him any less awkward. Of course, he wasn’t awkward, simply cautious, simply bringing a kind thing to someone he didn’t mind. He’d reluctantly accepted that Aster wasn’t his enemy. It may have been slight spite that brought him to be kind to her, though there was some pang of pity at her sorrow, and he felt himself rather accomplished at being far nicer than her. She offered him a compliment, he offered her two. It was a competition, and he was winning.
Aster looked up from her endless paperwork, now multiplied by the newly come quest assignments, and smiled. “Thank you, Barry.”
He huffed, setting it down. “Whatever, Aster, you haven’t been eating.” At least not enough, in his opinion. They had a responsibility to the Fates and to the Brotherhood to remain healthy. She wasn’t doing that.
“No, I’ve been busy, I must’ve forgotten. There’s a lot of paperwork to do, you know. Marrow has decided to mentor this year, so I’ve been trying to decide what quests would fit him best. As well as how many he can take on, since he’s new,” she added, frowning at the sheets of paper as if it could somehow make them disappear.
Barry watched her, before rolling his eyes and ripping the quill from her grasp. Ink splattered on her sleeve. “You need to eat, now,” he muttered. He didn’t apologize for the mess. It was her own fault, not taking care of herself. She should have known better.
Aster looked down at her now stained sleeve before rolling her eyes. “Fine. Thank you, Barry.” Her tone was too indulgent. As if he was some small child to be appeased, rather than a respectable employee of the Brotherhood. A paladin, or near close. Her face softened as she unwrapped the napkin to find steamed buns, snagged before Marrow could eat them all. That man ate too much, in Barry’s correct opinion.
“Go ahead and eat,” he groaned, taking a few of the quest files. “I’ll look at this, see if I can help.”
“Oh, there’s really no need,” Aster protested. Except there obviously was, since she was hopelessly overwhelmed. He pitied her, therefore he would benevolently help lighten her load.
“Yet I’m helping you anyway. Out of the goodness of my heart and all that.” The first file was for a herd of kelpies, helping them pass around a tenuous war zone to get back to their natural migration track. Easy enough. Some plant kid, a druid, someone who could calm the kelpies and had enough empathy to gain their respect. Goodness, this wasn’t that hard. He skimmed through a few names before choosing a young dryad named Larkspur Brotherhood. Easy enough. He moved on to the next pile, looking up every so often to make sure Aster was eating. She was.
She took the last bite of the bun and gave him a genuine smile, though small. He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t, grunting at the paperwork instead. Another quest, a small questing group to retrieve the Chrysalis. He paused, knowing that would affect Aster, seeing as her last wretched child died when assigned to that quest. He didn’t know why he cared, but for some reason he found himself eager to deal with it before she noticed.
He flipped through the files of the children, selecting a blonde boy with a bright smile. It would postpone the mission another month, letting him grow of age. Then Marrow or one of the other supervisors could take it. Maybe Barry would, if there wasn’t anyone competent. He wouldn’t take the extra work on often, but maybe if he did Aster a favor then she’d do one of those strange smiles again.
He shouldn’t have cared. Yet, for some small reason, he did.
“Here, let me see your work,” she said, holding out her hand. He handed her the Larkspur file, rather than the Franklin Brotherhood. She looked it over, before nodding her approval. “Looks decent to me. You’re better at this than I would’ve expected.”
“Oh? What did you expect?”
His grumble made her smile again. She didn’t smile often, he noted, besides when she was around the obnoxious couple that were apparently her only friends. “I don’t know, maybe carelessness? You did come here to get off easy.”
“I came here to work,” he corrected, “and I’m up to a challenge. I started teaching, didn’t I?”
Aster paused. “Yes, you did.”
“I go where the Brotherhood wants me. I’m just not going to fight for more work if it’s not needed.” He didn’t see why he would, since he already worked hard, did what the Fates wanted. Yet he knew that if more was asked of him, he would not hesitate to obey. After all, he had sworn his life to their service.
“You really do believe in this stuff, don’t you?” Aster said, voice soft, hushed, as if someone would hear her wonder and condemn it. He nearly did.
Instead he puffed up, nodding. “Of course. They’ve made this entire place, haven’t they? They work for our good and we work for theirs.”
“Ah,” and Aster did not say anything else for a long moment. Then she smiled again, though something tired and rather sad. “That makes sense, I suppose. Thank you for your assistance, Barry, and the food.”
“Do you not believe in them?” he asked, frowning at her.
“How could I? They sent Alice to her death. They willingly condemn hundreds of children. How can that be justice?”
Barry didn’t know what to say. How could she not believe? How could she not see the value that the Fates provided, the noble work that they had been charged with? Yet her tone was bitter, and some part of him stopped himself from speaking against her. Maybe it was the same pity that made him want to see her smile.
Aster pressed her fingers against her temple, releasing a slow sigh. Her shoulders slumped, as if she had briefly released some heavy burden. “We are not in the main city, we do not bask in their golden light. I have simply seen reality, that’s all. Forgive my doubt.”
“Forgiven,” he said, a bit too quickly. She nearly laughed. Thankfully he didn’t have to endure her mockery, simply gave her a smile.
“Would you like to stay for a little while?” she asked, looking him over. “You don’t have to, but the help would be appreciated.”
For a moment, the invitation felt like something a little more. As if she was extending more out to him than just an offer for more work, as if it was an invitation for friendship instead. He was reading too much into it, he was aware. He didn’t like how eager he felt. “Of course,” he said, nodding. Instead of saying more, he reached for another file. “You’d probably be hopeless with all this anyway,” he grumbled, though she only raised her eyebrows at him. He bowed his head and opened the file. A quest party needed to go find a chosen one from a village that was rumored to be blessed by the Fates. They’d need someone responsible.
He didn’t look back up to see if Aster was watching him. He didn’t. But she wasn’t, anyway.
-
“Barry, hi!” Red again, waving him down as he exited his classroom. “How’s your class going?”
“Decent,” he frowned. In the last month, ever since he’d started working with Aster regularly, she’d given him some ideas for how to manage his class. He was determined to somehow construct a proper class out of the rabble of children he’d been given. Aster had laughed when he’d grumbled about them, one of the short harsh laughs that she gave out when he’d said something particularly entertaining. He’d noticed she didn’t laugh much. Neither did he, it suited them, but he couldn’t help that certain pride whenever he earned her laugh. Not this time, though.
After all, the children being wild was a serious issue. It was no way to behave.
Aster had smiled at him though, gently shaken her head. She’d told him they were just children, that they behaved well enough, but they were not yet adults. He’d responded that he’d been responsible enough at their age. He had been raised in the inner cities, where the Fates’ presence was the strongest, and he had always been a serious child. Aster had shrugged, told him that they would be children and that the best he could do was interest them, excite them. It wasn’t the methods of inner city schools, especially not in the Brotherhood, but he had begrudgingly agreed to try her methods.
Unfortunately, they had worked.
Apparently, teaching a class with activities and demonstrations, engaging the children, worked better than a lecture. He didn’t see why, but he’d begun to use her methods. It wasn't an extravagant improvement. Yet it was still an improvement, less students snickering behind his back, some potentially well thought out ideas on the latest quiz. He would almost have been impressed.
“Well, I’m glad you’re getting settled in,” Red smiled. “You know, I was going to the teacher’s lounge to get some food. Want to come?”
“I have some work to do,” he sighed. Besides, he still didn’t get along with Red and Marrow, even though Aster had encouraged him a few times to go along with them. She claimed he needed friends. He’d returned that he had her, the first time he’d defined them as friends. They worked together, yes, but now they were friends. For some reason, that seemed more impressive, more important, than coworkers.
It had been a while since he’d had a friend, as focused on his studies as he had been.
Red rolled her eyes, still walking beside him. He wondered how quick he would have to speed his pace to outrun her. She was like a hound, chasing after its prey until exhaustion. “Oh, come on, work can wait. Don’t you want to hang out with us?”
“Not particularly. Besides, your partner eats all the food.” It was an issue. A serious issue. Marrow had no respect for others.
“Aster will be there.”
Ah. Well, then she wouldn’t be in the library, which meant going there to work would be rather fruitless. Not that he couldn’t work without her. He’d simply grown to enjoy her company over that strange month of friendship. He found himself more productive. Surely the Brotherhood would approve, even if Aster skirted around the rules on occasion, in a way that made his head ache.
Red was still watching him, that hunting gleam in her evil eyes.
“Fine,” he relented, though he knew he shouldn’t. Perhaps Aster would offer one of her laughs again as he bemoaned her idiots of friends. “But I do have work.”
“Of course, Barry, of course.”