Tracou left his home directly after his conversation with Mirthal. He spotted Pendaer sitting near the manor, carving a sizable hunk of wood into a shovel. They briefly locked eyes before Pendaer turned his body around. Fine.
He arrived at Serpouhi's place as she was in the middle of cooking lunch. Upon seeing him, she had smiled and said that she could make him a portion as well. This meant that she would make him a portion and a refusal would be out of the question, so Tracou had no choice but to accept.
They chatted for a while about this and that, about Garin and about Mirthal, about the food. The entire time, Serpouhi beamed. Eventually, Garin entered and silently slotted himself next to her to help cook. His magic could not hope to match Serpouhi's, so he handled stirring some soup while she did the rest. Newlywed joy emanated from them.
How could he bring himself to tell Serpouhi that the village could be destroyed at the whim of a single man?
Lunch passed. Tracou sat with Serpouhi and her husband, occasionally forgotten as the two of them naturally returned their focus to each other.
Garin left, apparently going to help a relative with something. Silence took over Serpouhi's home and she gave Tracou a curious look.
"You didn't come here just for lunch, did you? Your elf must be starving."
"He'll eat anything, so it's not a problem. He can grab a raw potato or two."
Serpouhi inhaled through her teeth and shook her head. "Gross. Anyway, Tracou, was there something you wanted to talk about? It sounds like everything's okay with Mirthal... I'm so glad you worked that out, by the way. I told you he liked you!"
"You were right."
He stopped, hoping for Serpouhi to say something else, but instead she watched him. Tension had taken over his body—no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself relax.
"Um, Serpouhi, I have to talk to you about something important..."
She nodded. "Like?"
"Like..." Tracou winced. "L-Like how I want you to officially be my bailiff," he said, cringing all the way.
"Oh! Your bailiff. That makes sense... Garin and I are trying for children, though, so sometimes he'll have to take over my duties."
He didn't especially like the idea of Garin acting as bailiff in lieu of Serpouhi, but if they had no way around it then he had no choice.
"That's fine."
"Good. That's what you wanted to talk about? I guess it wasn't official, but I basically already was your bailiff."
Tracou hesitated, looking squarely at Serpouhi's forehead to avoid her eyes.
The ruler of Winlea knows about Ergakan and he wants to take it and Dezmer as a whole. Winlea has a weapon they can spread through the wind, a weapon that renders magic unusable. We have no idea when they will strike, but we have to think of a way to defend ourselves.
Swallowing dryly, Tracou nodded.
He left her home, walking up the road with heavy feet.
At the top of his hill, he saw Pendaer again. He had carved his block of wood into a crude approximation of a shovel and now was using it to jab at the ground. The winter soil wouldn't split so easily.
"Having fun?" Tracou asked as he approached.
Pendaer glowered at him. His shovel in his hands, he stabbed at the earth once more before letting out a single grunt.
Clearly there was no fun to be had here. But then, what did a Pendaer having fun look like? Tracou couldn't begin to imagine.
"You try," Pendaer ordered, thrusting the shovel at him.
"I'll do no such thing."
"Try it!"
"I can use magic to make a hole for you if you want one this badly."
"No. No magic." Pendaer pushed the shovel against Tracou's chest. "I want to see you try. If you can do it, the others can. Then we can leave pitfalls."
"Ugh..." Tracou snatched the shovel from Pendaer. "If you can't do it, what makes you think I can?"
"I can do it just fine—I'm worried about the wood snapping. You people have no idea how to work metal, something even the humans have learned! It's pathetic."
Tracou huffed, but Pendaer was right. Carpentry, masonry, metalworking—dezmek had a vague grasp on the first two, but the last had never been necessary. They depended on magic for everything.
Placing the shovel against the ground, Tracou took in a breath and pushed. Nothing. He leaned his body weight on it, straining, but this caused the shovel to skid against the ground. It slipped from underneath him and he flopped onto his belly, his chin slamming the handle of the shovel.
Pain blossomed.
Pendaer stood over him and threw his hands into the air.
"You're all like children!"
Wand tucked into his sleeve, Tracou grabbed Pendaer's ankle with magic. He squeezed once to give Pendaer enough time for the color to drain out of his face before he yanked him backward, forcing Pendaer flat on his face.
While Pendaer lay stunned on the ground, Tracou jumped up and dashed into the manor. He had expected Pendaer to give chase, but he didn't. In fact, hours went by and Pendaer still stood outside, struggling to dig with his piece of wood. Tracou sometimes stood by a window and watched him, his heart sinking.
Even if a hole wouldn't be of much help, it was more than what Tracou had done.
Tomorrow, he would tell Serpouhi.
But tomorrow is always a day away.
Tracou made several attempts to visit someone and ask for advice on the ax dangling above Ergakan's throat, but he accomplished nothing. Each time he tried, his tongue felt awkward in his mouth and he couldn't decide on how to phrase it. How would Serpouhi react? Ardit? Would they reprimand him? He should have told them right when he arrived. Now he had let this fester for months.
As Pendaer's hole grew, so did Tracou's anxiety.
Three days had gone by and Tracou visited Serpouhi on each of them. He sat in one of her chairs once again, a cup of tea in his hands. She sat across from him, observing. Waiting.
The first thing he had set out to do today was to visit Serpouhi. He had arrived after breakfast and lunch had been over for some time now.
"Tracou..." she began, her voice full of sympathy. "Did Mirthal reject you?"
Tracou jolted, spilling tea on his tunic.
"N-No." He whisked the stain away with his wand. "No... we're lovers now."
"He didn't change his mind?"
Tracou shook his head.
Serpouhi sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then why do you keep coming here? I don't get it. You've been here for hours and, I mean, normally I don't mind it, but you look like a mouse."
"I-I just... I have to tell you something, but I can't get it out."
"You managed to tell Mirthal you liked him, right? How could this be harder?"
Good question. Each passing day made telling Serpouhi more vital, but his throat tighter. Something was wrong with him. Why hadn't he told her the first day he had arrived? But the why didn't matter—the fact was that he had stayed silent. He had given himself excuses, like the wedding, and had proceeded with his life while trying to ignore the piece of wriggling anxiety in his gut.
As Tracou mulled that over, not realizing the way he had eagerly embraced the distraction, the door opened. Garin stepped inside, coughing. Serpouhi instantly got to her feet.
"Are you all right? You're all dusty..." she said, trotting over to him.
Cold rippled through Tracou's body at those words. He turned around in his chair only to see Serpouhi fussing over a conspicuously gray Garin.
"I can't get it off," Garin complained.
"What do you mean you can't get it off?"
Stiffly, Tracou got out of his chair and went over to the open door
The world outside had dulled. Gray. The same sickening gray from the waterfall, the same gray that had clung to his wagon. A layer of powder coated the ground. A haze hung in the sky, allowing scant blue to peek through. But not for long.
It was too late. He had failed.
Tracou's heart froze, broke off from its position in his chest, and fell all the way down to his heel.