Black Mould - Thirty-Eight - Loyalty
I don’t remember a lot of what happened after.
Dada was brought away. Someone held onto Mom as she cried. Eventually, some Bullies showed up and poked around. One of them escorted us out of the factory district. Firm, but not mean.
We made it home and the crying continued.
The house was different.
It was still home, but less. Dada was missing.
He was a big, loud kind of man. Nice, and always smiling, almost always in a good mood, even if he sometimes smelled of beer.
I missed that. His smell, his presence in the house.
I don’t know if it was weird of me but… he was a big man, and I knew he’d keep us safe, and now he wasn’t.
A day passed. Then two. Mom eventually left the house. She had to work. Someone had to.
It was hard, watching her that morning. She dressed slowly, she moved hesitantly. She left without saying goodbye and returned looking exhausted and harried. She’d been crying. But then, so had I.
The funeral happened.
I don’t remember much of that either. It didn’t rain, but at least the skies were grey. It was at the cemetery, the same one I had some mushrooms in. Two living brothers, in their long beige robes, slid the box that held my father into a slot in one of the walls. It was one of those sections dedicated to Vista Lida. I hadn’t known that that was who my father was tied to.
Another brother of Dearil stepped up before the box. His robes were a little more ornate, though it wasn’t anything ostentatious. “Roger, of no last name, was a Mechanic. He reached level four hundred and twelve before passing. He died doing what he thought was right. His legacy lives on with one child, born from the union between himself and his wife, Tessa.”
The living brother paused.
“He loved both very much. This is known of his living legacy.”
“This is known,” the two others repeated. Some in the tiny crowd said the same thing.
I swallowed and tried to see the plaque with his name, but my vision swam. Too wet.
The ceremony ended and people dispersed. There were a lot more who had died. The living brothers and sisters of Dearil would be busy. The crowd, most of it, followed them to the next site. It wasn’t far.
Mom and I stayed. Us and one other.
He was a bit older than my dad—than my dad had been. Lanky, with a crooked face that looked like it was used to smiling. He held a hat in both hands. “Tessa. I’m sorry,” he said.
Mom looked at him, and with a speed I didn’t expect from her, slapped him hard across the face.
He flinched, of course. “We—we’re going to make it right,” he said.
“Fuck you, Larry,” Mom spat. She stomped off.
Larry… that was dad’s friend. He wiped his face as he followed Mom with his gaze. He looked tired, and sad. “Mister Larry,” I said.
His gaze turned towards me. “Oh… yes?”
He winced. “Bad things… sometimes they happen to good people.” Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novelFirｅ.net
“I’m not an idiot, Mister Larry,” I hissed. “What. Happened.”
“I swear to every last god if you try to weasel out of this by pretending that you don’t want to speak to a child, I will put you in one of these boxes myself.” I wanted to scream, but at some point it turned into a low, whispering rasp.
Larry eyed me, one part cautious, another pitying. “Your dad… the boys. We wanted a union. To get our due. We’re not greedy, we just wanted… more. Our share of the work. It wasn’t supposed to be violent. Just a few of us guys… not working for a day.”
“And it got violent anyway?” I asked.
“The foremen weren’t pleased. Some are good Jacks, but others ain’t so good.” He scuffed his shoe on the ground. “Then the Bluertons showed up.”
I think he read the incomprehension on my face because he hastened to explain.
“They break up protests. Beat up organisers. Not good folk. They work with the Bullies plenty. They showed up and started to make a fuss. I think we were gonna call things off. We’d made our bit of noise. The bosses would find out we weren’t satisfied. Usually that’s enough for a first step. But then some of Ratesco’s Union boys, the Rats, they showed up and started hollering.”
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Bunch of street folk. Like to kick up a fuss. Steal from hardworking folk but….” He glanced around to see if anyone was listening in. “But between the two of us, they ain’t bad people. Have the hearts that lots of foremen lack.”
“They started fighting?” I asked.
“The Bluertons opened up. I think they were nervous, what with the riots over at Ditz. Rest is… you know.”
I didn’t. I didn’t say as much, though. I looked to my Dada’s resting place.
Something ugly was twisting in my guts. “Thanks, Larry,” I said.
“I… me and the boys, we’ll try to see what we can do about the bill.”
He winced. “That’s more for your mom.”
“Tell me,” I ordered. It came out as more of a whisper.
“Well, from the company. See, Roger was a mechanic, now they need to train a new one, and that’s going to cost, so they’ll have to charge someone, and since he broke contract, that’s on him… on your family.”
They were going to charge us. To replace my dad. Larry continued to talk, but I couldn’t hear him. My heart was pounding away. Blood was humming in my ears. I thought I might vomit, I felt so sick.
My hands twitched. I wanted to claw someone’s face off but…
At some point Larry left. I found myself standing right up against the wall. My neck hurt from looking up at the plaque.
Just that and the date.
[Are you certain you want to remove the [Agaric Cleric] Class?]