“What is the Wahnera Misfortune?” Nie asked his grandfather at seventeen.
“Where did you hear that?” Bahr replied, looking through business expense reports.
“From Vehra’s sister,” Nie said, at a desk nearby working on house finances, “She was telling Vehra not to be friends with me, and Vehra said it was a silly superstition, but neither of them would tell me what it was.”
Bahr sighed, setting his work to the side, “Bit of bad business, that. And a silly superstition – but best you hear of it. Won’t be the last time someone mentions it, I’m sure.”
Nie set his work aside as well, turning to give his grandfather his full attention.
“Seven generations ago, Viscountess Melahrm Wahnera gave shelter to a mother in labor that came to the estate in the dead of night,” Bahr said, “The woman later claimed to be a mistress of Rohbahnahr.”
“The… Deity of the Hearth?” Nie asked.
“One and the same,” his grandfather sighed, “She asked only to stay long enough to regain her strength before fleeing out of Rabahn – and Melahrm granted this request. Later, people from the royal family of the Southern Principality did arrive in search of such a woman. Claimed she was a thief, and her pregnancy was… unrelated. Melahrm claimed she simply had not believed the woman could possibly be on the run from one of the Six, but had assumed there was something else she was running from.”
“Was that true?” Nie asked.
“Who’s to say now?” Bahr huffed, “If it was or wasn’t, I don’t have a record to prove either case with certainty. But, ever since that incident, the Wahnera family has lost one child a generation. Rohbahnahr has never officially cursed us or anything – if Melahrm was lying, it was a damned good one. Punishing a noble family for sheltering a woman claiming to be a mistress would have made it seem as though there was some… credence to the claim.”
“But people must believe it, then,” Nie said, “That she was a mistress.”
“What makes you say that, lad?” Bahr replied.
“They believe in this… Misfortune,” the teen replied, “Don’t they?”
“That’s the trick, isn’t it?” his grandfather scoffed, “They can’t – they do, but you’re right that if they do, then it means they must believe we’re being punished by one of the Six, and no one would believe we’d be punished for sheltering a petty thief. Indeed – why would the Yolrahn family send anyone after such a person? That’s why they call it that – not a curse, but a ‘misfortune’.”
“Do you believe it?” Nie asked, despite the man calling it a superstition earlier.
“I didn’t,” Bahr said, looking out the window behind his desk, “Not until I’d lost both of my children and a grandchild. And besides – each of the Six is influenced by the mortal they’re reborn as; that much is well known. People are not infallible – and the gods have been so many people now.”
“… I believe that’s blasphemy, grandfather,” Nie said softly.
“So it is,” Bahr snorted, “Sorry to bring you into a cursed house, Nie.”
“Don’t say that,” Nie replied, returning to his work, “After all, you’d do the same as that Viscountess. So would I.”
Bahr chuckled, “Wahnera to the core, we are, eh?”
“You seem lost in thought, Nie,” Shasol said, offering the human a wine glass.
Nie accepted gratefully, “I was reminded of an old conversation, is all. Do you spend much time with your cousins?”
Dinner had concluded, and they had moved to a sitting room for cards, conversation, and dessert. Gahne and Fahn had been pulled into a game with Ohmuin and Farehn – they were all in the same age group, and Nie suspected this dinner had originally been designed to ease the pair into adult courtly matters. And the latter two still had a healthy curiosity about Dahm, both clear admirers.
Their hosts were in another game with their earl-ranked relations and a few other guests, and the rest were deep in discussion of an up-and-coming artist Nie had heard of but knew little about. It gave him, his betrothed, and the valet a moment to themselves with a pack of cards if they chose to play themselves.
“Surprised to hear me speak up for Derha?” Shasol asked adroitly, “I am fond of them, yes – the both of them. Derha is brilliant when their nerves aren’t getting in their way, and Asahl adores their mind. And their nerves, bless her.”
“And she is very skilled in organizing their research,” Nie said, “I can never make heads or tails of anything Derha writes before Asahl gets a hold of it.”
The Wesahn family was known for their pharmaceuticals – with a secondary interest in cosmetics. Derha had a more direct involvement than many of their predecessors in developing new formulas, specializing in perfume. They also used their alchemical knowledge to develop better fish food and ways of keeping the water of ponds at the best levels of salinity and acidity.
Asahl was just as sharp as her spouse – but where Derha’s primary talents lay in invention, hers lay in organization. To say Derha’s workspace was chaotic was generous, and Asahl could not only read and comprehend their messy, complex formulae but also turn them into something everyone else could understand. Derha often said they would be entirely lost without her help, and Nie had to agree.
“I know many believe that Asahl is the ‘real mastermind’ behind the newest perfume lines,” Shasol sighed, “And Derha is just trying to save face as a Wesahn. Like that ass Erlahm.”
“Oh, I don’t think he believes that,” Nie said, “He’s just an ass.”
Shasol snorted, “You may be right.”
“Mn,” Abuin offered, tightening his grip around Nie’s waist.
“He wants to know what you were thinking about earlier,” Shasol said, dealing a hand for Six and Sevens.
“Have you heard of the Wahnera Misfortune?” Nie replied, not questioning the other man’s understanding, “The subject of children reminded me – not that I’d be having any. Unless Abuin took on another human spouse.”
“Mn,” the Grand Duke replied, tail wagging.
“I think that’s more of an after-wedding conversation,” Shasol said dryly, “But yes, the uh… way the Wahnera family often loses a child a generation, yes?”
“That would be it, yes,” Nie said, “I was simply recalling when Grandfather explained it to me.”
“Even if you were to have children,” Shasol started, “Doesn’t it usually only affect… ah.”
Nie’s gaze was drawn to his sister – Gahne was laughing at something someone had said before teasing Ohmuin over something. He nodded, “Yes, it only affects those that stay with the house.”
He was sure she had her own worries about it – but what could she do? If she had no children, the Wahnera house would be finished. Their country cousins who managed the estate for the rest of the year were only gentry, and being so far from the court in Remeh meant they didn’t have the standing to move into the court should the main family lose standing. It wouldn’t be the worst thing, he supposed – the business would go on, at least. But the thought of losing the history in the estate – all those trees planted for so many generations of Wahneras – did make him feel rather sad.
Abuin hummed and unceremoniously pulled his betrothed into his lap.
“Abby,” Shasol sighed, eyes turning skyward.
There was a rash of giggling from the youth table and at least a few chuckles from the adults.
“This would be more difficult if you had horns,” Abuin remarked offhandedly – his bottom set of arms wrapped around Nie’s torso while the upper set held onto his hand of cards.
Nie snorted, admittedly open to the comfort as he took up his own hand, “You’re not going to cheat, are you?”
“Abby never cheats,” Shasol huffed, “And if he did, it would be to your benefit, not his.”
“I can live with that,” the human replied.
“I’m sure,” the valet grinned despite himself, “Are you much of a player?”
“Average, I think,” Nie replied.
“Don’t get much practice?” Shasol asked.
“Not as much as most of my peers, no,” Nie agreed.
They’d played one hand before Hahsen and Duchess Asahn – whom Nie remembered as the first person he met after being dragged to the upper court debut ball – approached the table.
“Would you mind if we joined you for next hand?” Hahsen asked.
“Mn,” Abuin nodded.
“Please do,” Shasol translated.
“I did want to apologize for my father-in-law,” Hahsen added as he sat, “Vesah loves him dearly, but he can be… challenging.”
“I am well acquainted with Earl Erlahm’s challenges,” Nie snorted, “I’m old enough now to know he’s just barking at a tree.”
“What a charming turn of phrase,” Asahn chuckled, “Wherever did you hear it, Nie?”
It was still odd – higher court members using his first name so freely and clearly intending to imply closeness and not disrespect.
“It’s… quite common outside the court,” Nie replied, uncertain how it would be received.
“Ah, yes, you’ve a profession that takes you outside the court,” Hahsen nodded, “What was it, again?”
“I’m a massagist,” Nie replied.
“Oh, how lovely,” Asahn said, “What rank are you, dear man?”
“… master,” the human replied.
“Since when?” Shasol asked, then lightly cleared his throat, “Congratulations on the promotion, Nie.”
“Thank you,” Nie smiled thinly, “It was… recent.”
There were understanding looks around the table – the kind of looks Nie had hoped to avoid. But it was better to get it over with and have done, he supposed.
“Well, you were young for a senior massagist,” Shasol shrugged, but clearly easing the implication, “No surprise you’d be young for master as well.”
“When did you make senior massagist?” Asahn asked, “I would have expected it to be recent, with your age.”
“I made senior at twenty-three,” Nie replied, studying his hand.
Hahsen’s brows shot up, “Well, you would have been young for senior at thirty, nonetheless seven years ago.”
“Almost,” Nie said.
“When?” Abuin asked.
Nie flinched – having somehow almost forgotten the man he was still sitting in the lap of. He cleared his throat, “Well, we don’t know my exact birthday, so we celebrate the day Grandfather finally caught me instead – near the end of summer.”
He could sense the way his betrothed’s tail started wagging.
“Caught?” Shasol asked.
“Ah,” Nie said, embarrassed, “Yes – when I was living in the orchards, I worked very hard to avoid being caught. It took Grandfather the whole season to manage it.”
“And me clinging to him as a toddler,” Gahne declared, bringing a chair over to sit next to her brother.
“How sweet,” Asahn smiled. It almost sounded sincere. At the very least, it was trying very hard to be.
For his part, Abuin had turned towards his future sister-in-law in anticipation.
“What was having Nie as a brother like, Lady Gahne?” Shasol asked in his stead.
“Oh, just Gahne is fine, your grace,” she replied breezily, “And thank you once again for escorting me in my brother’s stead during the debut ball.”
“Of course,” Shasol said genially, “And if I am to call you by name, feel free to do the same – I consider Abby like family, so I feel as though I am gaining a sister as well.”
Nie smiled at that – mainly because he was almost certainly the Greater Marquis was being sincere. Even if it had the added benefit of showing Nehma house was forming a connection to the Wahnera family, and not just Nie.
“Shasol, then,” Gahne flashed a delighted grin, “But how to answer your question…”
“Lie,” Nie supplied, “I’m too boring otherwise.”
There were chuckles around the table.
“In that case,” Gahne affected a solemn air, “I’m afraid it was like growing up in a haunted estate. Nie would only travel underneath the floorboards and behind the walls, making ghastly wails at all hours of the night. He would wear all white and stand in the garden while staring up at random windows, and only speak in half riddles at a whisper when prompted.”
“I sound much more interesting already, thank you,” Nie said over the mild laughter of Hahsen, Asahn, and even Shasol.
“Of course,” Gahne replied, “Now you have to lie about growing up with me as a sister, or I’ll be far too interesting.”
“Interesting? No, you’ve always been the very model of a modest, quiet aristocrat,” Nie returned, “You’re basically held together by etiquette and protocol.”
“Couldn’t go anywhere without them,” Gahne grinned.
Abuin hummed – then reached out and patted Gahne on the head behind her small horns, saying approvingly, “Your family is very close.”
Gahne was at a loss for words at the gesture - though her tail wagged uncertainly.
Nie could imagine the pleased embarrassment well. Simple, genuine sentiment was often missed in the court – especially from near strangers. Nie was surprised at how quickly his betrothed’s penchant for it – though at times awkward – endeared the man to him.
Comments (7)
See all