Luther's Pride Part 2

The road to the old tower would take some time to walk, but Criella had the carriage from the estate ready. Luther did not examine the driver or the footman. He simply accepted their presence as he climbed into the unfamiliar carriage. Criella moved to sit up front with the driver, but Luther's grip on her forearm stopped her.

"Ride with me?" Luther asked. "I could use some conversation, and I need someone to catch me up on what's happened since I've been away."

"Of course, my Lord." Criella allowed him to enter first and followed in after.

Luther wrinkled slightly at her use of the title, but he could not deny his inheritance any more than he could deny his father. They were silent as the carriage got rolling. Criella sat with her back to the driver while Luther sat across from her. The carriage was small, but they had enough room to be comfortable with only two. The doors were solid, and the paneled windows were clear patterned glass.

He watched the countryside pass by for a few moments. Raefandale Shire was beautiful at this time of year. The carriage lanterns did not permit him to see overly far, but his sharp half-fey eyes could make out the gentle curves of once-familiar hills rolling up like waves to the sky-scraping mountains in the distance. Luther looked out the window until he felt the melancholy set in, then he turned his attention toward Criella.

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk before the ceremony." Luther said with a sincere expression. He really did regret not finding her when he arrived.

"That was entirely my fault." Criella assured him. "I had some final arrangements to make and gifts to organize at the manor."

"The manor?" Luther asked, surprised. "You mean my father's tower?"

He recognized Criella's soft smile. As children, it graced her lips whenever he said something amusing but unworthy of a laugh.

"Your father has not lived in the tower these last two years. He began construction on a manor shortly after you left." She explained.

"Huh." Luther scoffed in disbelief. It would have been disbelief if the statement came from anyone else, but he knew and trusted Criella. She was his oldest friend. Still, he had difficulty picturing his father agreeing to move out of that old tower, much less it being his idea.

"He has expanded many of his holdings since your absence." Criella explained.

Luther scoffed again. "Was there a particularly rare manuscript he needed to save up for?" He asked. The father he knew never spent money on luxuries besides his precious books. Although they were always provided for and comfortable, luxury might as well have been a sin in his father's eyes.

Criella chuckled, but her laugh was more fond than derisive. "He always did love his tomes, " she agreed.

Luther smiled at her fond reminiscence. His favorite memories with his father’s books were mostly playing hide and seek with her in the archives when they were small enough to squeeze into the shelves. He could still recall glimpses of memory of hiding, seeking, accidentally knocking over a stack of books, and the consequent chase his father gave until he and Criella were driven from the library and out into the fresh spring rain. His father had only been mock angry that time, but he still gave them a three-hour lecture on the rarity of handwritten manuscripts and their proper care until Criella fell asleep in her chair and Luther in his.

"That's considered a rather taboo fetish among the Fey, you know." Luther commented. "The love of books."

"It was hardly sexual." Criella smirked at him from across the carriage.

Luther laughed, a genuine bark of laughter that shot out from the carriage and echoed along the roadside. "Ha!"

Criella seemed proud of herself.

"I meant their disdain for the written word in general. They believe words are meant to be spoken, and writing them down is to rob them of their life, breath, spirit, or whatever you want to call it." Luther explained. "To them, books are… not quite abominations, but insulting perversions."

"Interesting." Criella considered it for a moment. "Your father never told me that."

Luther shrugged. "He never told me either." He explained. "I learned it from my time among the Fey."

Criella's brow rose in question. "You journeyed to the other world?"

Luther nodded. "I spent a summer there, our time." He answered. "It was… educational."

Criella remained silent, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. So, she asked about his travels to prompt him to speak. His father had always had a penchant for storytelling, and Luther had picked it up from him, though without his father’s polish and practice. "Where else did you go in your travels?" She asked.

"All over." Luther answered. "I went to Cavallon first, of course. I applied to the academy there."

Criella nodded her encouragement to continue.

"Of course, they denied me due to my difficulties with magic." Luther continued. "As you know, I was never particularly skilled with it."

"I always thought you did okay in your lessons." Criella tried to be encouraging.

"You're still the kindest, blindest person I know." Luther chuckled as he turned away from Criella and toward the window.

"Still, it sounds exciting compared to everything happening here." Criella gave him an encouraging, listening look as if she was waiting for him to launch into the story of his travels and catch her up on all that had happened to him in his years away.

"What has happened here?" Luther asked. "There were a lot of faces in the crowd today I didn't recognize."

"Your father was well-loved by everyone in the town." Criella assured him.

Luther looked doubtful. It was hard to love a man who never left their library. This was not because of any obnoxious personality trait on his father’s part but because he was generally absent unless you also happened to be in the library.

"They did." Criella assured him. "He became more social in recent years and quite charitable. He helped expand the town, invested in its businesses, and saved its people from more than one difficulty."

"I always half imagined him a hermit rather than a lord." Luther chuckled. "I used to think of him occasionally and always pictured him sitting in his armchair by the fireplace, reading until the lamps burned out."

Criella nodded. "He was, for a while. Especially after you left." She said. "But then he started to plan for your return. Hence the manor and the socializing."

"He built the manor for me?" Luther asked, surprised.

Criella nodded. "He thought you might want a house to settle in with a family of your own when you returned."

"Oh really?" Luther asked.

Criella smirked. "He wasn't sure if you'd take to the human or the fey method of marriage. Most people our age have at least two spouses by now."

Luther was silent. "The Fey are strange in that custom. They believe marriage to be between two people only. Yet, before marriage, they will not commit and explore marital pleasures while unmarried."

"They do not follow the temple’s precepts then?" Criella asked.

"They are not of the temple or any religion of this world." Luther answered. "They marry only for love."

"Scandalous." Criella smirked slightly. "But I'm not sure that only the fey may claim to love their spouses."

Luther rolled his eyes. "Humans marry only for influence, money, or magic." His derision conveyed his opinion on the subject. "To marry for love is as perverted to them as writing a book for the fey."

"I don't know." Criella shrugged. "I don't think it must be one or the other. I know many who love those they've wed. Companionship breeds more than children, after all."

Luther was silent.

"So you haven't been married to anyone yet?" Criella asked.

Luther shook his head. "I couldn't afford a wife anyway."

Criella looked out the window and then back at Luther. "Begging your pardon, sir, but… you can. Now that you've come into your inheritance."

"Hmph." Luther shrugged. "You know my father's accounts. How many wives, husbands, or partners should I afford myself?" He joked. He knew his father only had a little income despite the land he owned. It wasn't as though a tower filled with books made any money.

"Well, Sir, between the farms you own, the rents, and the shares you have in the quarry, lumber mill, and several other businesses, as well as your father's banking investments and the library income…" Criella hesitated as she generalized the number in her head. "You could support quite a large household. As many as six, maybe seven, partners. More, if they bring wealth of their own to the match."

Luther raised an eyebrow. He knew the human customs around marriage. He didn't know how the traditions started. Still, among most people in this kingdom, it was considered a moral imperative to partner with as many as you could as early as you could to build a strong household and add to the glory of your family name and the strength of the kingdom. A large and robust household had its benefits, not just in financial situations but in safety. It was almost the opposite of the Fey tradition.

The Fey married a single partner for life, which was considerably longer than a human one. But they live in safety in the other world, so numbers were never much of a concern. Nor did magic work in their world the same as it did here.

"I don't think I even know seven people at that funeral service." Luther admitted. "I can't think of marriage now."

"Of course, sir." Criella nodded. "Though, a lord of your income and station should probably marry soon. Or someone might challenge you."

Luther sighed. "Really? Is that still a thing? No one ever challenged my father."

"They did, Sir." Criella corrected him. "I have seen him fight no less than four challenges in the last few years. It’s become a little more common since other regions have had difficulties with invaders, drought, crop failures, and other difficulties."

"Really?" Luther was surprised. "And he won?"

"Quickly and decisively." Criella nodded.

"Who challenged him?" Luther was curious now.

"Outsiders." Criella explained. "One was a leader of bandits in the forest. He and his husbands demanded your father fight them or surrender his property, as is the law. Ten men whom your father did not want to fight. Yet the combat was over in less than a minute."

"My father wasn't that good a swordsman." Luther shook his head. "How did he manage that?"

"He was a much better swordsman and mage than they were." Criella shrugged. "That kept anyone from challenging him for a while, but… without the numbers to deter such challenges, his reputation could only go so far. He was only one man, unmarried, and those outsiders who challenged him had no less than three to fight against him."

"No one in the village ever challenged him?" Luther was even more surprised.

"The people of the village loved your father, sir. He was… well, he was like a father to many people." She tried her best to explain.

Luther laughed dryly and entirely without humor. He let silence fall between them as the carriage rolled on. He didn't know what to say to that. His father had always been a bit distant, the reproachful, reproving, and disappointed authority figure in Luther's young life. They loved each other as family does, but it was a love unspoken and unconfirmed. It was almost cruel that the village should see him as some warm, loving, doting figure that clashed so harshly with the man in Luther's memories.

"You can call me Luther, you know." Luther finally broke the silence. "I've never stood on protocol with you, Criella."

Criella was silent but gave him that same amused smile as before. "That was when you and I were children, companions, and friends." She explained. "Now, well… I was your father's legal administrator. He paid for my education after you left, and I swore my oaths five years ago now."

"Impressive." Luther said, genuinely impressed. "But you always did share in my father's love for books." He could remember her reading late at night, always off on some adventure in her mind, and often reading aloud to him and his father in the evenings after dinner. He missed those days when adventures were solely in the imagination, terror was not nearly so paralyzing, and escape was simply a matter of finishing, or closing, the book. "Hard to imagine you as an advocate for the law, though." He chuckled. "With how much trouble we used to get in."

"I maintain such trouble was entirely your instigation." Criella chuckled with him. "I didn't get in half so much trouble after you left."

"Because you stopped, or because it's easier not to get caught when you're alone?" Luther asked.

"I don't have to answer that." Criella looked indignant, but her smile ruined the effect. She was glad Luther was in higher spirits than when they’d left the funeral.