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“Do you really have to go?” Věromíra pleaded in the saddest, most desperate voice she could muster. She knew the adults usually had a weakness for that, though Aunt Lil and Uncle Dunk were both still reaching for their coats.
The bright light outside spoke clearly that it was barely the beginning of the afternoon, and the autumn sun looked deceptively pleasant, though Věromíra herself had tested the chill when she ran out of the front gate to greet all the visitors coming in.
Uncle Dunk raised his hands to show innocence. “I’m dead,” he explained, then pointed one finger at her. “You killed me.”
“And I’m mourning,” Aunt Lil joined in, then she picked up Dunk’s glasses from the living room table and handed them to him just as he had started looking for them.
“But-!” Věromíra wanted to protest, tears already swelling in her eyes, but before she could say anything, she was picked up by Uncle Hanuš. His beard, even larger than her father’s, always scratched her face, but his dwarven arms were strong and steady, and his embrace brought immediate comfort.
“They’ll be back by sunset, don’t you worry, kiddo,” he said with a smile on his face. “And the rest of us aren’t going anywhere. Hey, perhaps you could ask Uncle Derek to come play too!”
This new objective piqued Věromíra’s interest, and when Hanuš put her down, she ran up to the man sleeping in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. “Derek! Derek! Come play with us, pleeeaaase!” She tugged on his sleeve, and he lazily opened one eye.
“Hm? Oh, I am playing, of course I’m playing. I’m in wild shape. Take it up with my dragon form,” he nodded his head in the direction of the formidable dragon in question - Věromíra’s younger sister Kunhuta, who had recently learned how to crawl and was currently making her way to their mother with the vicious war cry of a toddler. Mojmíra cooed at the baby, and when she was finally able to reach her, she lifted her up in the air, to Kunhuta’s utter delight. The flying red-haired menace switched back and forth between laughter and her best impression of a dragon’s roar.
While Věromíra was distracted, Lil and Dunk had already gotten dressed and ready to leave. “Duncan,” Lil said, looking at the blond elven boy throwing imaginary fireballs at Věromíra’s father and Uncle Tristan. “Be good, okay? Pyromancy and necromancy are both off the table. Cantrips only under Uncle Fergus’ supervision.”
Duncan nodded and puffed his chest, fully aware of the responsibility he as a five-year-old had to lead as an example for Věromíra and Kunhuta.
Věromíra frantically tried to come up with any excuse to keep Ducnan’s parents a bit longer. “I can bring you back to life!” she suggested to Uncle Dunk, then she turned to Aunt Lil: “And then you won’t be sad anymore, so you won’t be out of magic!”
“Mom’s not out of magic,” Duncan protested. “She’s out of mana.”
Věromíra frowned. “That’s the same thing!”
“No, it’s not! Mom told me about it, mana is in you, magic is everywhere,” Duncan argued with absolute certainty, and to prove a point, he turned to Lil for confirmation. “Right, momma?”
Lil and Dunk exchanged a worried look. Věromíra didn’t understand why two university professors couldn’t judge the victor in a children’s quarrel, especially when the answer was so clear (it was her, obviously, and Duncan was being a know-it-all).
“We really have to go,” Dunk insisted. “Fergus, thanks again for looking after Duncan. We really appreciate it.”
“Aya, don’t mention it,” Fergus replied with a wide smile. “We’re having a blast here, aren’t we, everyone?”
That Věromíra and Duncan could agree on, even Tristan and Hanuš joined in their cheer.
“Enjoy the conference,” Hanuš added then. Dunk and Lil both thanked him, after which they said their goodbyes and went out the door. Věromíra took a peek out of the window, and they were already being gross, as plenty of adults often were. They were holding hands, whispering something to each other, Dunk even stopped at one moment to kiss Lil, and they had not even gone out of the front gate.
Věromíra’s attention was diverted soon enough when Uncle Tristan called at her: “Come on, Lady Ruch! Or the heroes will take over the whooole Carmine League! You don’t want that, do you!”
“You won’t get away with that!” Věromíra shouted. “Bucephalus, get them! Dragon, scorch!” The dragon had made her way to Uncle Hanuš and was clearly considering chewing on his beard. “Also, I cast Wall of Fire so you’re all burning now!”