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He fell in love with Halandil Fang the first time they met.
This was not an uncommon occurrence as it turned out.
It doesn't translate to common. It's an intense feeling but not necessarily romantic, or at least it wasn’t most of the time. Some days Olgud could imagine the shape of it in his mind, but the two of them had known each other for more than three decades, and at this point they were beyond romance. They knew each other too well. It would be easy, but it would also be a shift that would jostle something neither were willing to lose.
The knock at the door was familiar. Soft, but amplified with magic so that it would be clear as a bell through thick walls and Olgud's poor hearing.
“Your other husband is here,” the memory of the dry sarcasm stung him. He pushed it down with annoyance.
He put his book to the side and got out of bed, grabbing his robe on the way. Down stairs, in the dark, careful not to break his neck. His guest knew to wait. When he opened the door he saw what he expected to see. Hal, looking tired. A guilty little smile on his face for the time of night, for the inconvenience.
Olgud could only wonder at his appearance. Thaisha was home. And that didn't mean physical intimacy, but her tusks had to be aching for the father of her children, her daughter, and her children's sibling.
And Hal had a hard time letting go, even with Olgud. Thaisha made it easier for him. If anyone could get him through losing his little brother it was Thai.
He almost said it: shouldn't you be with Thaisha?
He was glad he hadn't when after staring at him a little too long, Hal suddenly crumpled in on himself.
Olgud immediately pulled him into his arms. Hal didn’t sink into the hug. His tension remained as he clung to Olgud for dear life. This close Olgud could smell the distress under jasmine and yargraz that covered his usual spicy cologne.
Fuck he still smelled like the funeral.
Whatever this was, it was bad.
His own adrenaline shot upward. His tusks started aching in response to the distress and fear.
Without words he pulled Hal into his home and straight up the stairs to the bedroom. They were too old and their backs weren’t good enough for the couch. Besides, they were well into their intimacies at this stage. More than three decades he had known this man.
Which made the instincts worse of course. Not only was a comrade in danger but a comrade he had bonds with.
He instinctively touched his nose to Hal and gave him a soft head bump before sitting him on the bed and handing him sleep clothes.
Hal looked grateful. He liked a script. They had done this before. No need to think of words. Just follow the familiar actions. Hal got changed and Olgud stepped out to get him a large glass of cold water. He ignored the kitchen drawer where he kept his chef's knife. There wasn't any physical danger.
He took his own deep breaths, his tusks tingling, the pain fading from the little bit of distance. He had seen Hal in bad ways before. A life time of friendship did that. But this wasn’t anything like the other times. There was always a part of himself Hal would hold inside. His pain would be quiet, and Olgud would sooth the shape of a wound he couldn’t entirely see. This was worse than Hal had ever let him see him.
Hal didn’t like to show his hurts, despite how good he was at drawing out and soothing others. It spoke to how close they were that he would do this with Olgud at.
And why was he doing this with Olgud? Thaisha was in town. He saw her yesterday. Hal just lost his brother, Shadia her uncle. Thaisha was at the Dithyramb. She wouldn't leave her family so soon after the whirlwind of devastation.
Not unless it was bad bad.
Fear pooled in Olgud’s gut. The kids. It had to be the kids. And last he saw Shadi she was working on her routine surrounded by smiling friends. And babiest Hero was being raised with a lyre in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. The two were young women and old enough to get in trouble but less likely to find it with the lives they led.
Which left Al.
The one training in the depths of the Barrowdell. The one that was always so fearless. His mother’s bravery and father’s effusive joy.
Shit.
Shadi had said she tried to send him birds with news of their uncle's sentence and received no reply. It wasn’t uncommon, but now it felt like an obvious red flag.
He pushed down the new wave of panic. Hal forced himself to be the steady one, but he couldn’t be. Not for this. He would need Olgud’s support.
So he let go of the thoughts of the playful little boy that used to hide under the stage, and get into mischief, laughing as his uncle tusklessly scolded him as he handed him a candy. The boy he would teasingly measure his growing tusks with the tip of his pinky. "Look how big they're getting! You really are a Fang, aren't you?"
Who would beg his Uncle Ollie for a ride on his shoulders since his Uncle Thjazi had his war wound, and Hal couldn't lift for shit, and his Mama wasn't home right now.
He had never felt so strong as when he lifted him and Shadia up, one on each shoulder as they screamed with delight.
He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed away tears. He didn’t know anything yet, and Hal needed him steady.
He took a deep calming breath and entered the bedroom. The bastard had somehow managed to maintain his figure after all these years so Olgud’s sleep clothes hung loose on him. He was holding Olgud’s favourite pillow to his chest, his nose buried in it.
Hal wasn’t small in personality or stature, but he looked achingly small in that moment.
The ache was back in full force.
Hal took a few deep gulps of water. That eased his body. Doing something. Doing something for his comrade.
“Is it Al?” Olgud asked as gently as he could. It was better to ask questions. Hal and his writer brain. Easier to write something from a prompt than stare at the blank page with no where to start.
Somehow Hal’s face crumbled a little bit more. He looked haunted as he nodded, then paused and shook his head.
“We don’t know." His voice was rough. "Thaisha’s going to find out.”
Yeah… yeah this was bad bad bad bad bad.
Hal pressed against him. Olgud wrapped both arms around him. Familiar protectiveness rose in him. A mix of instinct and long friendship.
“Your other husband is here,” Morris said it with playful sarcasm at the time. Human. Humans tended not to get it. Elodie was the same, although she tried a lot harder than Morris ever had.
His ex-husband rarely tried to see from Olgud's point of view.
The problem was, humans always saw others as a warped version of themselves. The word in common was ‘humanoid.’ The word for common was ‘common.’ If that didn’t say everything that needed to be said then nothing did.
Dwarves were just shorter humans that liked fashionable beards and good rocks. Orcs were humans but hardier.
‘Beast-like,’ Morris had said in one of their last fights that cinched the divorce and the bitter feelings.
Utter racist bullcrap. There wasn't anything beast-like about orcs. Azgra shaped them to be soldiers, and so all their instincts reflected that. Soldiers needed to be strong and fierce, sure, but they also needed to be able to work together. They needed to have trust, teamwork, and a protective instinct.
And good soldiers needed something to fight for, and Azgra wasn’t offering anything of worth.
So nothing spiked an orc's adrenaline more than one of your people being in danger. There was no better motivator to fight harder than that.
Their whole race had been in a hostage situation. That’s what the others didn’t understand. That’s what they didn’t get when orcs dropped everything for each other and those dear to them moving so quickly into defend or fight. In their blood they were still soldiers looking out for their fellow soldiers, because the only win they got was living another day side by side.
He remembered Thjazi and Thaisha had once had a conversation about it during a party. Back in the old days where their talk was mostly just talk. How cruel the shaper was, purposefully ensuring a heightened sense of distress for the soldiers that would die around each other.
They fought so hard because they were trying to save each other. One more minute, one more hour, one more day to avoid the agony in your tusks when your person is afraid.
So orcs were extremely communal, even now in times of peace. The orcish translation for city was something like communal sonder. An awareness of everyone's individual lives and how connected they were to each other's survival.
So yeah. His ex was a shithead.
And that was just base level.
Hal was one of his. A word that didn’t translate elegantly to common which had given rise to trashy bodice rippers. Tusk Passion, Tusk Kiss, Tusk Heat.
What it meant was that Olgud would make a safe space for them to hunker down until Hal was strong enough to look after himself again.
Hal had done it for Olgud too. Olgud didn't think about how awkward it would be after he kicked Morris out. Not until he was on Hal's doorstep at three in the morning, Hal, his hair askew, holding his fussy babiest baby in his arms, Elodie behind him. She took most of it in stride. Nasty breakup. Tears, hugging. It wasn’t until Hal tried to drag Olgud in their bedroom that she quietly asked what was happening.
The two of them had ended up in Thaisha's old office, babiest Hero in between them as Hal listened to Olgud pour his heart out and had the decency not to say: I told you so.
(Hal had never liked Morris and the way he treated Olgud. Funny enough, Morris liked Hal despite the sarcasm and jealousy, but everyone liked Hal.)
Elodie was given a more in-depth breakdown of orcish tusk aches in the morning. She had no idea. Thought it was a metaphor, not an actual biological panic response. She was a good sport, but the level of intimacies Hal had with others had always made her feel insecure.
That wasn't necessarily a human thing, but well off humans obsessed with self sufficiency tended to have it more often than others in Olgud's experience. Hal looking for comfort in others, or being so thoroughly intimate in someone else’s arms felt like she was failing to be enough for him. For people like Elodie failure was a wound.
Hal understood when she left. No one's fault, not really. They were still on good terms. Elodie tried, and continued to try as a friend now.
Morris was just an ass and Olgud hoped he was miserable wherever he was now.
“Is Thaisha in danger too?” Olgud asked gently. He would be fine with silence, but he could feel Hal getting in his own head and tensing up again, which in turn made him tense. Getting the problem out would at least let him vent some of the anxiety.
Hal nodded more firmly this time.
Olgud sighed, his own heart aching for his friend in his arms, Thaisha off to find her son, for the little boy that was a man now.
“I’m such a fool,” Hal whispered.
“You’re not a fool,” Olgud chided gently.
“I knew… I knew with Thjazi that one day it would catch up with him. A knife of some murderer on the road, a monster in the wilds. Assassination, a petty fight, something. There was always going to be something, there was always that little ache whenever I looked at him. But—but Al.” He stopped, voice breaking on his son’s name. He pressed his head against Olgud’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. “I convinced myself it would be okay. He’s strong. He’s like his mom. And for all that Julien can be an ass, I was relieved when I heard he would be training him. He would teach him how to keep himself safe out there. Even Thai agreed, it took everything in her, but she knew it was for the best. I knew there was risk, but … not my boy. Never my boy. He would be alright. He wasn’t like Thjazi, he didn’t look for trouble.” Hal sniffed. “But when you want to solve problems, you have to look for trouble, don’t you?”
“He’s a good man with a good heart,” Olgud said, rubbing Hal’s back. "Like his Mom and Dad."
“There’s so much Ollie. There’s so much and it’s too big. I’ve been so stupid.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I let him go.”
Olgud wasn’t sure if he was talking about his son, or his brother.
“I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead against Hal’s. Hal gently headbutted him before burying his face in his chest. He was silent and still, but Olgud could feel the tears soaking into his nightshirt.
He tucked Hal’s head under his chin, trying to scent him and cut through the yargraz and jasmine. He silently cursed Thjazi for dying at a time like this. His nephew faced unknown danger. What was his life as an adventurer for if not a situation like this? He should have been here, reassuring his brother that he would go and save the day. That he would watch Thaisha’s back and they would bring Al home together.
And Hal would still worry, but Thjazi had a devil’s luck. Hal would be able to at least pretend it would be okay. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Thaisha. The woman was the most powerful person Olgud had ever met, and Hal had books worth of writing on the different strengths she had shown him. It was just that fear of loss. Thjazi had been good at chasing away that fear. He had to be the amount of times he had made Hal afraid for him.
A never ending tusk ache that one. Even Olgud's hurt to look at him some days.
Hal’s breaths evened out. He pulled up and rubbed his blotchy face on his sleeve like a little kid would. He looked at Olgud helplessly. Exhausted and embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
Olgud mentally sighed. “Why the hell do you have to be sorry to me?”
“It’s late.”
“You know it’s never too late. Not for something like this, Hallie. Come on. It’s cold and my knee is swelling. Gonna rain bad. You know this place is drafty as fuck.”
Morris wanted somewhere big. Two stories. Big windows.
Ugh.
They situated themselves under the blankets. Hal buried himself against Olgud again. Olgud sighed. Stroked his friend’s hair.
“Can you tell me what’s happened?”
He felt Hal’s head shake in the negative.
“Just that it’s bad, huh?”
A nod.
“Does Shadia–?”
“I haven’t told her. There’s nothing to tell. It will just worry her.”
Olgud groaned softly. “And you don’t think she’s going to notice you losing your mind about it? She learned how to read an audience from the best, remember?”
Hal was silent, then: “I sent her to her sister’s.”
Fuck.
“Wait, wait,” Olgud’s hold tightened a little. “Are you in danger too?”
Hal kept silent.
“Hal, are you fucking in danger or not?”
Fuck his tusks hurt. His heart was starting to race against his chest.
“I’m not sure,” Hal finally whispered. “But the house doesn’t feel safe right now, and I just needed to know she’s sleeping somewhere safe.”
“Dead gods. That’s… oh fuck, Hal,” Olgud cursed. Bad. Bad. Bad, bad bad. “Is this… is this Thjazi? That elf woman?”
“I can’t. I don’t—”
“Okay, okay,” Olgud exhaled. Hal’s distress pulled at his tusks unpleasantly. His adrenaline spiked. His body told him he should be doing more. His person was suffering. Why the fuck wasn’t he doing something to protect him?
He ached with it. The agony of loss needling at him to save Hal, fucking save Hal!
He’s not dying, he tried to tell himself. His fear isn’t death fear, it’s just his own agony gripping him by the throat.
Do something! His body screamed back. Help him!
But what the fuck was he going to do if it was that terrifying elf? He was a producer. His days of brawling in Caravan Hill were long done with. He was an old man with a bad knee and back pain. The most dangerous event he’d been through in the last decade was two days ago in a conversation with a demon nun looking for booze in which he had folded like a bad hand in poker.
“I’m here,” he said anyway.
Hal nodded like he actually took comfort in that fact.
“I’m here,” he repeated.
“Thank you.”
“Shh.”
“Thank you.”
“Fuck your thank yous, how many times have you done this for me?”
“It’s easier,” Hal whispered. “I love you.”
“And I don’t love you you, idiot?”
“Thank you.”
“I love you, you don’t need to thank me for that.”
“I’m grateful for you. I’m just grateful.”
Gods your father did a number on you, Olgud didn’t say. Hal wasn’t hit as a kid. That meant Olgud didn’t really understand why sometimes Hal would flinch when they were younger. Why he would do everything in his power to avoid disappointing others. Why he took criticism so hard, and why he meticulously solved problems before they arose. Why he was the person everyone went to for help, but when he was hurting you might not know until weeks later if you even learned about it at all.
Thank the path for giving him Thaisha Lloy who loved Hal out loud, unrestrained, and limitless.
Hal didn’t need to try and prove he was worth loving anymore, but days like this got under his skin.
“Is there anything I can do?” Olgud asked, his tusks scratched gently at a spot under Hal’s jaw.
“Nothing you aren’t already doing. I just… I want Alogar here. I want Thaisha and Thj–Thjazi. Gods I want my brother.”
“I’m so sorry, Hal.”
"I tried to save him."
"I know."
"I tried."
"You did everything you could."
"I don't know if I did. I don't know if I did anymore."
"You did all you could," Olgud repeated. "Whatever those old friends of his were talking about, that wasn't something you could help with. You did what you could, and it sounds like you came a lot closer than they did."
"Close but no cigar."
"Yeah, but that's not on you."
They fell into silence again.
“I just couldn’t sleep,” Hal confessed suddenly. “Every sound at home set me on edge, and it smells like jasmine and she’s not there, and my daughters aren't there, and my son isn't there and I... and I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“And you don’t have to,” Olgud said reassuringly.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to burden you.”
“When have you ever done that?”
“You covered for Thjazi a lot back in the day,” Hal said, trying to push some humour in his tone, but it came out watery.
“Yeah, that boy was a boulder around my neck and he wasn’t even mine. I don’t remember you ever causing me problems though.”
“Going into business together. Pursuing my stupid dreams?”
“Everyone needs a hobby.”
“Making you work with Bolaire on finances?”
“You’re right, get out of my house,” Olgud humoured him, holding him tighter.
But the little uptick of mirth suddenly plunged again.
“Bolaire…” Hal said, remembering something. He sounded bleak.
“What? Is he still whining about the wine and fruit leather? You don’t need to worry about stuff like that right now, Hal. I’ll take care of it. He’s not going to pull his support over it. For all his faults he is loyal to you, even I’ll admit that.”
Hal laughed weakly. “He is that, isn’t he?” He sounded subdued.
“If it’s something else, I’ll kill him for you,” Olgud promised.
“Thaisha said that too.”
“It’s because you have a hard time telling us what you need, so we get murderous when you’re hurting. It’s completely normal.”
He felt Hal’s smile.
“I don’t think that’s normal.”
“Two against one.” He just managed to catch himself from saying three against one, including Thjazi in the trio usual. All of them gently ganging up on Hal, or each other.
They had been kids a few seconds ago. What the hell happened?
Life. You live life, and you keep living it, and suddenly you're in your fifties and your knee hurts when it rains because you were an idiot and got into fights when you were fourteen.
But if you were lucky you had familiar faces getting wrinkles beside you (Thaisha was a traitor in that regard, but she had shoulder pain to bitch about, so he forgave her).
Olgud was luckier than most. He had the troupe. He had Hal.
The thing about Halandil Fang was that he got into your bones and he changed you for the better. Everyone he met. And he would shake his head and deny it. Like he didn't just... see the best in people and make them want to live up to that view of themselves.
Hal would gaze at him, smile fondly and say something he loved about Olgud. Something that Olgud had never noticed about himself before.
Something that had always been there that Hal had noticed. A little virtue that made Hal smile. That made Olgud feel so good about himself that that little virtue would grow and suddenly he was a better version of himself than he was a day ago because Hal saw that seed and watered it.
I love how you keep birdseed in your pockets to save tourists from the magpies, you're a peach, you really are.
You have the most contagious laugh, Ollie. I hear it and I'm all smiles.
You're Alogar's favourite you know. I had to tell him we aren't actually blood related the other day . He looked at me like I was stupid. Then he asked if Thjazi was actually my brother. I told him yes. He shook his head like an old man, you should have seen it. 'Uncle Thjazi's fine, but he doesn't give piggyback rides. You should trade.' I'm trying not to laugh. 'Would you trade Babiest Shadi?' He thinks about it. Shrugs. 'For Uncle Olgud it seems like a good deal. Elodie says the art of the deal is to trade up.
Oh sweetest child Al...
Olgud used to be angry. Angry at his life, bored, sullen. Hal was this happy guy. Upbeat and thoughtful. His natural mirth was so contagious it was impossible to be angry around him.
They met when Olgud was in a ‘gang,’ which was really a group of bored ne'er-do-well kids in Caravan Hill doing vague vandalism and petty crime. Thjazi was in his own little dirtbag group up in the Rookery when it was a bit rougher than it was these days. The kid was in their ‘territory’ and got caught stealing from one of their members. They were going to beat his ass.
Then this guy shows up, a couple years younger than Olgud. He’s smiling, friendly. So sweet it was impossible to be mad about anything in his presence. He talks Thjazi out of the situation he found himself in, makes friends with them. Chats for a while about local gossip when minutes ago they were going to smash his brother’s face in.
Thjazi’s sullenly quiet throughout, but gives his apology at his brother’s firm prompt. The two leave and Hal promises Thjazi won’t bother them again.
He does of course. Thjazi was a contrarian shithead. He was still that to the day he died, but he had been a nightmare at thirteen.
But because that Hal guy was just so nice Olgud felt weird about pounding Thjazi into the pavement. So instead of violence he hauled him by the ear up to the Rookery to face the disappointment of his older brother.
That was when Hal started loving Olgud he was pretty sure. The quickest way to Hal’s heart was through his stupid brother back in those days.
It probably would have ended there, but with that show of good will Hal sought him out. Once you were friends with Hal, that was that.
They spent time together talking about things Olgud would have never said out loud to anyone else, much less the people in his gang. Soft things. Hard things. Big ideas. Hal showed him the River Stage. Olgud got less angry and grew out of needing a ‘gang' at all. Or at least not the kind that knocked over food stalls and got in fights. Now he was in with creative types. People he always thought would look down their nose at him and exclude him, but who were always enthusastic to speak about their art, their passions, their work.
There was drama, of course there was, on and off the stage, but there was also acceptance. He felt understood for the first time in his life. Hal showed him that.
Olgud's dad beat his ass when he said he wanted to join a theatre company. Not even as an actor, but as a ‘behind the scenes guy.’
Hal was there for him of course. Took him to his Mom’s and stashed him in his room, guarding him for three days. Hal said later it was the first time he felt tusk ache that strong for anyone outside of Thjazi, and Thjazi almost never let him soothe him. His Mother didn't bat an eye. When they emerged she went from 'Your Mom' to 'Auntie.' When Hal told her Olgud needed a place to stay she asked him if he liked pancakes. Nothing else. That was all she needed to know.
The bruises probably told the story loud and clear.
When he heard about it Thjazi, practically a little brother to Olgud too by then, offered to go return the favour. "Do you need me to beat him up? I'll beat him up for ya Ollie." Which had Olgud laughing his ass off even with his bruised ribs. The skinny fifteen year old babiest Thaz had no sense of scale of who he could and couldn't fight.
That never changed he thought sadly. For all he was a pain in the ass, he was their pain in the ass. They weren't close in later years, but fuck, he'd miss him.
But the point was Hal changed people’s lives for the better. That’s where all that protectiveness came from. Thjazi and Thaisha, Olgud, hells, probably even Bolaire. He wasn’t an orc, but maybe his teeth itched too when Hal was hurting. They all wanted to stop Hal from being changed by a cruel world he had saved them from.
And look where that got him, Olgud thought angrily. Thjazi dead and leaving some complicated mess behind. Thaisha not able to be here for the sake of their son. Olgud unable to do more than be a shoulder to cry on.
Good job protecting Hal, Thjazi. Instead of shielding him he had let everything fall on top of him at once.
It wasn’t like Olgud was all that innocent either, speaking of Bolaire.
Shapers graves, but it had just made so much sense in the moment. Now it was smashing into him that this wouldn’t help. This would make it worse.
Thjazi sentenced to hang, the failed plot to save him tangling Hal up. The elf that could have probably slaughtered them all if she thought it would get her closer to her lost rock, Alogar... Alogar and Thaisha and whatever was happening there. Some other unknown dangers that had Hal sending his daughter away from his home because he didn't feel like she would be safe there.
Days. If that meeting had only been a few days later would he have made a different choice?
He wasn’t trying to infantilise his friend. He really wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to keep him ignorant like Thjazi did. He didn’t do it in the name of it being in Hal’s best interest.
It was just sometimes Olgud did things for the business that would keep Hal up at night, that Olgud slept right through. Nothing illegal, just the bit of slime that came with doing buisness in their city.
Hal was good with people, but he also had strong lines. Lines that would get in the way if they wanted to achieve what they wanted. When he came even close to touching those lines it ate at him. He'd do it if he had to, if it was nessisary, but he hurt himself doing it.
He legitimately felt a bad for becoming Wicander Halovar’s teacher to try to get in good with him. Hal could manipulate with the best of them, but he always felt so bad about it afterward if he felt the person didn’t warrant it.
Olgud had rolled his eyes. “He’s a rich idiot, he’s probably done five worse things before breakfast.”
“I’ve gone from humouring him, to pitying him, to actually sort of liking him, and I feel like a giant piece of shit when I put it like that. He seems like a coddled rich kid--I mean, he is a coddled rich kid, but he doesn’t want to be coddled, he gets excited when I... expect things of him. Like no one else has … believed in him.”
“Don’t they call him his holiness or something?”
“No one has cared enough to make him try. He's the face of their religion, and I don't think he's much more than that to them. It’s… just I think of Al, they're close in age. I don’t know. Under all the bluster I think he’s lonely.”
He also probably slept on a mountain of gold. And after all that at the funeral Olgud wasn’t exactly feeling charitable.
What Hal started to see in Wicander Halovar was probably something he watered the seed for in the first place.
When Lady Amariya Cormoray invited Olgud to her estate for a ‘chat vis-à-vis the theatre,’ he smelled the rot.
He didn’t tell Hal, and went for tea. He could always fill him in later.
“I met your partner a few weeks ago,” she said after the initial greetings and small talk. “A charming fellow.”
“It's why he's usually the one that does the talking,” Olgud replied. The first jab in the conversation. Acknowledgement that this was not how things were usually done.
It wasn't that Olgud couldn't talk. He wheeled and dealed with the best of them, but he liked buisness talk. Hal was good at winning people over, getting them excited. Olgud didn't enjoy politics. The poking and prodding and saying one thing and meaning another. He could do it, but Hal's version was more graceful and didn't leave anything in his mouth he couldn't swallow.
Cormoray smiled. There was a little knowing look to it. “He does the talking and you do the paperwork. Dot the 'I's and cross the 'T's,” she said delicately.
He leaned back in his chair and hummed, nonchalant. Behind that neutral expression he sharpened his attention.
“Hal's big ideas, I'm logistics.”
“The dreamer and the builder. That's lovely,” she said. It rang odd, her poetic phrasing. She was an odd person as he would come to understand. Little moments of intensity that Olgud had no context for.
She continued. “And I like his dreams, Mr. Akarat. It's only logistics in the way. That’s why I invited you here.”
He nodded for her to go on.
“Simply put, the Revolutionary Council isn’t willing to rock the boat if it doesn't have to. The Dithyramb of Azgra is a potential tidal wave. You need the backing of the Chamber of the Lord's Advisory. The backing from us would soothe their worries about any risks involved.”
“Yeah, we've noticed. Hard to make appointments with some of you.”
“Yes, there are a lot of projects currently up for discussion on our table. We’ve been quite busy in recent months.”
“Kind of you to make time.”
“But of course. Now, your partner's ties with the Royce are a boon to him, but the problem is, you need a majority. Royce isn’t strong enough to push the proposal of ownership through by themselves. Halandil Fang is the brother of Thjazi Fang. He spilled the familial blood of every single person that sits on the advisory council, even if the Royce are happy to forgive and forget, some of the others aren’t so magnanimous.”
"But you are. Magnanimous," Olgud cut in.
"Toward Thjazi Fang?" She looked like she was actually considering it, like the question surprised her. "No," she decided.
It was Olgud's turn to be surprised.
"But," she said slowly, "I am a student of history. Blood feuds don't end well for anyone, and usually get in the way of grander projects. Mr. Fang has done things differently than his brother." She shrugged. "And... I like him. He's a likable man."
“But not everyone on the council is as high minded as you,” Olgud guessed. "Even if Hal never joined the rebellion."
She nodded. "He has his name. Names mean something to us, Mr. Akarat. The Tachonis will never be on board. That's one vote gone. Einfasen doesn't have the scope to see the merit in supporting the arts. Besides, they're soldiers known for their loyalty. Einfasen will go whichever way the rest do. Royce will support, but frankly, no one cares what the Royce want these days. The Halovar would be very helpful. I understand Mr. Fang has gotten close with their scion. Wicander is a good contact. He's a very honest sort. Any deals made with him will be good ones. Mutually beneficial. The problem is those deals are useless without the backing of his grandmother.”
“The Photarch.” Olgud considered that. “Why would she care about the theatre?”
“She wouldn’t…” Comoray began.
“Ah.” Olgud connected the dots. “It’s the Tachonis. They’re her closest ally since the Shaper’s war. She won't move if they’re loudly against it,” he surmised.
The lady's smile became more genuine. “You understand. Yes. You have it right. Yanessa for all her theatrics is a cautious sort. If she thinks the Tachonis are against it, she'll side with them.”
“Which, conveniently, leaves the Cormorays.”
Her face softened. She looked so genuine. Despite spending the majority of his life surrounded by brilliant actors, Olgud couldn’t tell if it was a mask. “I actually love Mr. Fang's vision,” she told him. “An ancient theatre that once housed a god, repurposed for the people of the city. I think it's beautiful. Having such a piece of history left to be overgrown by the forest is a travesty. I would love to help. You have Royce. I can get you Einfasen. Tachonis won't like it, but I have levers to pull. The one sitting in the Advisory isn’t overly attentive when the business isn’t immediately important to her father. I can convince her that just because the name Fang has been brought up doesn’t mean it need be mentioned to the rest of her family. With an overwhelming majority she won't fight it. With that, Halovar will enjoy being the champion of the arts. They'll take credit, but that's fine.”
“How wonderful. Very neat and tidy,” Olgud said sarcastically. “I'm the Numbers Guy, remember? We don't need to be flowery here. What is it you want to make that happen?”
She laughed. “Nothing that we wouldn't want anyway. Just your expense reports. Money in and money out. All of it. I know with theatre types there are side deals, patrons that perhaps you'd rather shield, but it's important to know who we're getting in bed with.”
“You're getting in bed with me,” Olgud said bluntly. “And I'm asking you to can the pillow-talk. You want to follow money. Whose money are we following, and is it going to bite us in the ass later?”
“So blunt. Your partner was a pleasure to talk to, but this is refreshing too. You're a good team. I can see the Dithyramb will be in safe hands if things do move forward.” She considered Olgud for a moment. Sized him up. Dragon eyes, he thought. Measuring his worth to her.
She decided to go on. “There is a person I’m looking into the past of. He has done a very good job in covering his tracks. He only has one interest out of his direct sphere of influence. One that I don’t have an in to.”
“The troupe?”
“No,” she said, her smile unreadable. “Halandil Fang.”
And Olgud knew exactly who she was talking about. His hackles rose.
He thought about deflecting. Her eyes were on him, waiting to detect the lie or half truth or cover up.
Fuck.
“You mean Bolaire,” he said reluctantly. She was fishing, but the bait she had dangled was too tempting not to at least hear her out.
She brightened. “I’m really impressed Mr. Akarat. I can see why your troupe have so quickly become household names if they have your wits backing them.” Once again she sounded entirely genuine, and once again Olgud couldn’t tell if she was fucking with him.
“Right,” he said. Genuine praise ornot, he noticed she didn't actually confirm it was Bolaire she was looking into. She was very good at this.
“I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Lathalia face to face, but I look forward to making his acquaintance,” she said. “An interesting character by all accounts.” Still no real confirmation. Olgud was the one that had brought him up.
“One way to put it, yeah.”
“All I need is to see your books. How the money flows. How much and how often.”
“...You think he's laundering money through the troupe's performances in the Arcanade?” Olgud asked slowly. He would kill him. If that was the case he would kill him. Hal and Olgud had worked so fucking hard for this and if he was using them. Using Hal. Putting their dreams in jeopardy—
“I'm actually more interested in history than theatre,” she interrupted his thoughts, apropos of nothing.
She smiled.
He let her words sink in.
She’s not after the troupe. Her eyes are on the museum.
The Arcanade.
She didn't say it. Not outright. She just let Olgud make connections and let his wheels spin.
Fuck she was probably better at this than he was.
Okay. So he makes this deal with Cormoray and he potentially fucks Bolaire.
And despite their occasional animosity it put a sour taste in his mouth. The man had supported them. Given them a stage. Even if he had no idea about what made money and got caught in silly details.
And he was Hal's person eccentric fop or not, he was Hal's.
Someone that Hal would go through the agony for.
Because you don’t have to feel it. That instinctive pain. That was the trick. You could just leave them. You could leave them behind. Let them die. Step out of the room and leave them to their sorrow. Just getting out of close proximity was enough.
But you can’t because it’s one of your people.
Your pain is nothing compared to theirs.
You go through that pain for them, because it’s them.
Hal saying it was easier... in a way, yeah. Itchy tusks and rapid hearbeat or not, holding his friend was the easiest thing in the world.
But that was Hal who found himself sympathizing with a man whose family called themselves the chosen of the universe. What about Bolaire? He had fucked them if he was using them to launder money. If there was even the implication of wrong doing they would never get this close to the Dithyramb again.
But then this was all implication. Cormoray was careful not to confirm or deny his suspicions. She let him talk and made leading little comments. The only thing she was straight about was that they needed her.
“Let me return your courtesy and be blunt,” she said after the silence stretched a little too long. “Halandil Fang has no chance to get that Theatre. Ever. Not without me. Even if he manages to get Halovar, he still needs one more vote.”
“And if Cormoray asks them not to, Einfasen will be happy to go with the flow,” Olgud said with a glare.
He weighed the odds. Looked at what was being asked of them. Bolaire. What the numbers could really show her.
“It could be years before the political landscape shifts enough for him to have another chance, or that might never happen. That would be a shame. I think he’s exactly what the Dithyramb wants.”—What a way to phrase that—“All I'm asking for is due diligence. The only reason you're hesitating now is that you have a mind for how the world works, Mr. Akarat, and followed your hunch to its logical conclusion. Just like I am.”
Olgud took a deep breath.
“Did you ask this of Hal?”
She folded her hands together. She knew she had him. “One conversation and I could tell he wasn’t the person to ask,” she said. “And please understand, that isn’t an insult to him, or to you. There should be more people like Mr. Fang in the world. But then there would need to be more people like us. The sort that see good people and do what is necessary to help them.”
“Whatever Bolaire did, Hal had nothing to do with it. Even if it was for him, he didn't know.”
“Of course. It would be cruel to blame your partner for any wrong doing simply because he caught the attention of … well,” she smiled mysteriously. “Like you said, you and yours aren’t a part of this, so I won’t speak on it any more. Mr. Fang’s magnetism speaks for itself. Send me the expenses by the next vote. The theatre will be given to the custody of Halandil Fang.”
Easy enough to do.
And he slept fine.
Because here’s the thing. Working with Bolaire as long as he had, he was pretty sure Bolaire wasn’t stupid enough to leave obvious money trails in a project that was near and dear to his heart.
If he was, then it was doubly his fault for whatever was coming for him.
Olgud making the deal was the best move. Not only for what they gained, but the little bit of protection it might afford them. If Cormoray stayed interested in the museum and not the theatre, that was for the best.
"I think he’s exactly what the Dithyramb wants." The way she phrased that made his skin crawl and he really didn't want her any nearer.
Olgud felt like kicking himself now. The situation was at its core Bolaire’s fault, but Olgud could have said something. Not hidden it. Just because Bolaire had fucked up didn't mean Olgud's actions wouldn't amplify the hurt for Hal who didn’t need this right now. Maybe if his brother hadn’t been sentenced to be hanged days later he would have discussed it, but now he didn’t want to add to more of the shit being shoveled on his friend.
And now he was one of the people that had fucked up.
It was the opposite of what his body's impulses were comanding him to do. Go and take care of the threat. Don't let any danger near. Heal his wounds. Fix this. Fix him.
Maybe he’d be lucky and there would be some time for Hal to properly grieve and find out if his son was alright before that shitstorm kicked up.
Hal had fallen asleep. The ache in Olgud's tusks eased at the soft stable breathing and steady pulse.
He was going to have to tip off Bolaire, wasn’t he? Fuck. That fallout would be unpleasant, but maybe Bolaire would understand why Olgud had done it.
(He would. Actually complimented him on how much they got in that little exchange. Also said that he was completely and totally fucked, but waved off any apologies.
“You got Hal his amphitheatre and didn’t have to fund it with the disgusting concession stand dregs you call coffee or sell your soul forever and always to one of the Sundered Houses. I’m ecstatic. Your betrayal is noted, but underwhelming, now shoo out of my office, I need to plot—actually, wait… you should tell Hal. He’s… been shielded enough, and all it’s done is bruise him. He's strong enough for the truth. He always has been. It's us who have been weak. For all we love him, we need to believe in him more. He has never let us down before, has he?”
That more than anything made sleep hard to grasp, but that was later.)
In the morning he and Hal ate breakfast. Pancakes. Hal was back to being the reassuring one. Thaisha would find Alogar. She would find him and bring him home. He evaded any clarifying questions about his own safety. Promises were made not to tell Shadia and Hero until they actually knew something. This close to the opening, Shadia didn't need the stress, and Hero was in an important year of her apprenticeship. The death of their uncle was weight on them enough right now.
Olgud agreed because he was pretty sure Hal wouldn't be able to function if either of his girls had to cry any more tears for lost family.
"It just all came down on me at once. I'm so glad I have you to go to Olgud. I can always depend on you."
(When he does tell Hal, he's hurt, he's disappointed.
"It was stupid of me."
"No, it was a pretty good deal," Hal said. He just sounded tired. "Bolaire said to go easy on you before you pulled me in here. I take it you told him already? He's probably impressed."
"I should have told you. And Bolaire. Then we'd have the theatre and we could protect him from whatever she wants. It was just... I was furious at him, and the timing...and fuck, Hal. I was ashamed." At least in retrospect.
"Seems like you know all my lines."
"Hal..."
"No more, the sight of you is making my tusks ache. I... I get it."
"Hal."
"No, shh. I do. I get it. You wanted to protect me. Maybe I should be more resentful. Maybe I would have been a few weeks ago... now I would give anything for Shadia not to be wound up in any of this and every day it feels like she might be tangled in it. You were afraid it would hurt me. Fear does stupid things to us. Such stupid things. Come here. Hug me. No more fucking secrets. We're partners."
"We're partners," Olgud promised. "I'm sorry brother in arms."
Hal clung onto him for a little too long. He still smelled like jasmine and yargraz. Smelled like death.
He wondered if Hal would tell him. Tell him the secrets he'd been keeping. If he would let him help.
Because every time he saw him these days his tusks would start to ache.)