Chapter Two

Silence defies all the laws of known physics. Silence may be technically defined as a lack of noise, a void of it, yet it certainly takes up more space than the loudest scream ever could. Tarquin was not the first humanoid to have discovered this odd little fact, but he certainly felt as if he had. Had he been anywhere other than 75 feet off the ground in the rafters, he would have certainly slumped to the floor. 

“I-I am not the one who owns you! You just… work for my father! That’s all! And just because you refuse to believe it doesn’t mean you aren’t my friend! I call you by your name, please to the courtesy of calling me by mine at least?” Tarquin somehow managed with only stammering a few times while his mind came to some rather startling and possibly horrifying realisations. Penn’s still apathetic face did little to help his spiralling mind. Highest on this list was accompanied by a steadily increasing sense of dread: that in all the years of bringing Penn up to the rafters, of reading books in silence together, and of watching the people milling around beneath them, Penn had never once believed he saw her as anything other than a factory worker. 

Perhaps one with some semblance of intelligence, but a factory worker nonetheless. 

“Tarquin it is then sir.” A small smirk pulled at the corners of Penn’s lips as she watched his horrified face morph back into his usual soft smile that suited his near aristocratic features far better.

“You Penn are a little kouiu!” Tarquin hissed out through his own muffled laughter. Although Penn could not understand exactly what he had called her, she knew it wasn’t in any way complimentary. Tarquin rarely allowed himself to speak in the old language of the Ice Desert, especially not around her, preferring the common language that swept through the kingdoms of Anywise. The old language was only ever spoken around Penn when the townspeople had something to hide.

“Jois fourn ta piq graya hoin het, Tarquin-heima.” Penn replied softly, reverting to the original tongue of her own homeland. A language even more ancient than even the one from the Ice Desert, and certainly one spoken less often. At Tarquin’s confused gaze and head tilt, Penn shook her head, lifting her legs up so she could lie flat against the beam, giving her enough time to begin speaking once again, her words slower, more distinct.

“You need to do better than that, Tarquin Sir.” She added that last word as an afterthought, for ‘heima’ didn’t really have a good translation. At least not one she wanted to let him know. Her gaze turned to the factory floor below her, watching the people who looked more like grey blobs mill around, the only discernible ones were the two kidel’s, whose white fur was a stark contrast to the dark purple hue of the flooring. Ignorant of Tarquin’s intense stare burning into the back of her skull.

“It isn’t right to swear in front of a lady.” Tarquin spoke in a slow hushed voice as if still recovering from the flowing alien language coming from his long-time companion. He was sure he had never heard her speak that way or anyone for that matter. 

“Well, I can assure you that I am nowhere close to being a lady and that I take great offence to being spoken to in a language that you know full well I have no understanding of.” She lifted up just enough to turn her face towards him, fixing her gaze somewhere past him though, on something seemingly important only to her.

“Penn, do you really think I’d let anyone let alone yourself speak about you in such a tone?” While Penn heard those words, she didn’t react nor allow them to sink in, after all she could sense the usual easy smile in his tone of voice.

She had just opened her mouth to retort: perhaps tease him about his wording choice or some such banter as she witnessed the other young adults do to their friends. However, all of these pleasant thoughts were stripped from her as a loud rending screech sounded from the centre of the factory floor below.

Penn didn’t waste a moment, already dropping down between the beams with such practiced elegance she could easily be mistaken for the water in a waterfall. She only slowed her descent when she landed on the final beam, taking just enough time to adjust her clothing back to its proper decent position, such as making sure her worn grey blouse was tucked back into the waistline of her skirt rather than flapping about where it was liable to be pulled into the nearest machine. 

“Get back to work before the foreman gets here missy!” Ugik growled out as her eyes landed on her wayward worker. She opened her mouth to screech out some insult or suchwhen she noted Tarquin’s form sliding from the beam and decided she didn’t want to tempt the gods just yet. Not when her husband was out in the storm at any rate. That did not stop her deadly glare aimed at Penn, even as the younger woman drifted back to her secludedworkstation. 

Penn nodded her head as apathetically as one could ever manage, in an attempt to waylay any verbal lashing she was bound to receive in a few short minutes. Though deep down she surely knew there was nothing to save her from it except the abhorrent notion of hope. These thoughts carried her through the winding pathway between the various machines that ended in her workstation: the largest engine in the factory right at the centre of the building. She had once named the massive beast of an engine Angelus, yet the childish name had fallen by the wayside in recent years. 

Penn sat back into the small area between the coal basket and the tool cupboard that flanked her workspace. She had to cross her legs and fit them underneath the belly of the engine in order to get close enough to work effectively. Her front almost entirely pressed into the swell of the engine itself. She didn’t need to look anymore to find the various tools she needed in the cupboard, her right hand shooting out to find the right one with little needed thought while her left tapped at the various dials to check on the health of the system.

Not that healthy was a term one could use for this particular engine.

The old engine was left over from the old lands, with patches of rust taking over the majority of the visible metal, the rest was flaked with a dark green paint that was almost indistinguishable from the coal dust that covered much of the surface. It was nothing short of a miracle that it continued to work.

“Penn’s gonna get in trouble!” The first of the twin voices sang out from behind a thick sheet of metal. Glee was evident in every syllable. The twins were barely into their tenth year, and much like any child in this situation had decided pretty early on that they would take every opportunity to have fun they could. Even or perhaps especially at the expense of the others around them. 

Fayge and Forthe delighted in their reputation as the twin terrors of the factory floor. They were the kind of children whose smiles were demonic enough to make one’s blood run cold. Though that was the only demonic thing about their appearance. They were rather cherubic in every other way, having taken after their mother. Fori was the only inhabitant of Bebren, other than Penn, who wasn’t born there. A tradesman’s daughter who had fallen in love with a hunter. 

It was Forthe who had spoken, she did tend to be the more confident of the two. 

“Going to? Everyone knows she’s just Tarquin’s little pet.” Fayge retorted, and as always with children, she repeated something her mother had said about Penn three days prior when talking with the doctor’s wife.

Any further comments were halted by a short hard slap to the backs of their heads.Dealt by Ugik herself, with a deeply etched scowl that promised more if they dared say anything further. No one dared to argue with Ugik. 

Penn tilted her body so she could tighten some bolts with her right hand while her left was attempting to gather more from the pile beside her. Penn was sure that there had never been a day when she wasn’t in trouble within Bebren.

“The foreman’s coming! Have your eyes on your work and try to look somewhat presentable!” The words were yelled out by the one factory worker that was seen less than Penn herself: Francis Gaido. The young woman arrived by slamming the door open from the foreman’s office which sat halfway up the wall at the top of a rickety set of stairs and accompanied by high set windows so he could view the factory whenever he pleased, it was the only place in the factory where he could work in relative quiet. 

A smirk crept across Penn’s lips, as Francis ran, seemingly indifferent to her rumpled collar and to the fact that her skirt was several inches higher on one side than the other. No matter the day, she never left that office without looking as if she had been drawn through a hedge backwards. 

“I wonder when though?” The whisper sounded from the opposite side of Angelus, from the same person who often made snide comments about Francis’ state of dress, or undress as it were. Occasionally if they were brave enough, they would comment on the foreman himself, but that was rare. Often it was a sarcastic reply or biting joke, usually too crass for Penn’s taste but always had her fighting back laughter. Yet, the owner of the voice was a mystery to Penn, she had never once seen the person, and Penn was unsure if she could even place them if she heard them speak normally. Though this person, whoever they were, was possibly the person she interreacted with the most, even if it was soft hums and huffs of laughter, the occasional tapping rhythm against Angelus’ metal form. There was not much more either seemed to need. 

“Doesn’t her being here sort of answer the question?” Klaus grunted, his rough velveteen voice sounded from just behind Penn as he passed her, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. Those deep-set eyes ran over Penn, assuring himself that she really was there. It wouldn’t be the first time another had been roped into Penn’s station while she was away: but there was no mistaking the glint of metal from two of her fingers. 

Klaus’ boots hit the floor with a dulled clanging sound with each step he took. Coal dust floated in the air around him even when he had finally stopped moving. The woven baskets affixed to his undeniably strong hips groaned out in protest even under the low weight of the coal left within from his latest round. 

“Can you add some directly? The gauges are showing it is just about time to load it anyway?” Penn asked as loudly as she dared, Klaus’ easy laugh smoothing over any sound she had made. The heat of the engine almost scorched his body as he added the coal, jumping back each time fire shot out, his deep velvet laughter following him each time. 

“That is enough! You can leave the rest in the basket, Klaus, thank you.” Penn glanced away from her work long enough to see Klaus had once more moved to stand beside her, staring at her intently. Their stalemate ended with a deeply amused huff from Klaus, who bowed his head with his signature lazy smirk painting itself back on his face. Penn turned away and back to her work at the sound of coal hitting coal. 

She waited for the sound of Klaus’ heavy footfall carrying him away but it never came. Klaus had instead decided to take a break from his back-breaking work, his thick fingers twitching with each move she made, it was somewhat unsettling really. Though not as unsettling as when the cogs of his mind finally decided upon a decision, causing him to lean forward and lift his hand to bush his calloused fingers against her cheek. 

Marvelling for a moment at how soft she felt against him. 

“Should you not be working at this moment in time Mr Ludbeck?” The entirety of the factory workforce froze for a moment at the honeyed voice dripping languidly from the man on the opposite side of Penn.