Ward of the White Worm

The forest had receded into the distance behind them, the trees becoming sparse then seeming to flee altogether from the low-rolling hills and shrubland the carriage clattered down. Purple heather waved slowly at them as they passed by and the sun peered down at them as a singular burning eye above.

The Brynemoor was a place of salted winds, crumbling abandoned cottages and ruined churches left solitary and alone far from one another. At one point one may have imagined stalwart farmers who drove the brynesheep and raised grouse in small pockets of area, harvesting oats, bilberries, and cowberries, laborers in the quiet moors whose only socializing was sunday service. But at some point, many decades ago now stretching into far beyond a century, the people left. Now their cottages remained as sagging remnants, and their churches collapsed into half-recognizable rubble.

Now one of the only remaining buildings still legally inhabited within the Brynemoor was the Inn on the Moor, a grey stoned building with a dramatic wooden arch decorated with holy scenes and references to old fairy tales that sprung over the part of the road right before it.

Having had nothing to do except read the gory demise of badly behaved children or stare outside sinking into an uncomfortable half-napping state, in truth both Olli and Theodore were very glad when the carriage came to a stop.

There was a short flurry of movement. The footmen jumped off and three rushed inside the inn, while the fourth opened the carriage door. Theodore rose from his seat and left the carriage, while the fourth footman put down a box pulled from atop the carriage so Theodore could help Olli get out as well. The coachman meanwhile drove the horses around to the side of the inn, where large stables were built with similar grey stone.

The double doors of the inn were made of solid oak, and were open to reveal a wide room with several round tables. One of which was already set with two plates with toast and sliced of meat, cutlery, cloths, and two elegant looking tea cups and one glass of wine.

Beside the door was a large black dog, panting heavily as it leaned against the short set of steps into the inn. It put its yellow eyes open her, as though it were pleading for something. Olli looked at the poor dog as they walked into the inn and quickly checked her pinafore to see if it had pockets. There was one large pocket right around her waist, and she felt around in it to make sure there was nothing inside, then she looked at the meat on the table.

Theodore was as quiet as he usually was as they sat down at the table, although it was only a short moment before a middle aged man with short peppered hair had approached them. He gave Theodore a bow, “Lord Graef,” he greeted as he set down a newspaper beside Theodore. “It has been some time since you last came by.”

“Hello Mister Stewart,” Theodore said in return. “It has. How is Mrs Stewart?”

“Better now,” Mister Stewart replied, “she’s currently in Wonderfall right now, taking the waters again with her mother.”

“The children?”

“Very good. George has gone off to the militia, I believe the same regiment as Arnold too but it has not been confirmed yet. Emma and Belinda are both in their final year at the Lady’s Academy, Mrs Stewart is husband hunting for them too in the south, and Ian is currently in Takesea acquiring a new stock of madeira.” Mister Stewart then looked over at Olli, curious at first, afterwards concern, then giving her a bow. “To whom am I making the acquaintance of?”

“This is Olivia, a distant cousin,” Theodore said almost immediately while staring directly at her. “She was in a poorhouse when I found her, and I’ve taken her as my ward.”

“Oh! Well, it’s quite good you’ve done that. In that paper there-” Mister Stewart pointed at it, “it has an article on the Mercy Saint’s House. Terrible stuff, truly but…” Mister Stewart trailed off for a moment, allowing the duo to eat a little bit before he leaned towards Theodore. “Where will you be going, my lord?”

“To Paeth, then to Saint-Grey’s.”

Mister Stewart’s eyes widened a little, “have you not heard? There’s been…” he looked horrified to even speak the word, “highwaymen! There have been highwaymen upon the road.”

“Highwaymen?” Theodore folded his hands together, like slender pale spiders at rest. “Well surely with a regiment stationed at Paeth they will be quickly removed.”

“No, my lord, their leader is a godling of the Master of Well-trodden Paths, so nobody has caught them yet,” Mister Stewart added. “They spare none either. The miners who come to the backroom told me they have been accosted before, three pounds or a threepence makes no difference, they want it all!”

Olli had carefully cut a slice of meat and shoved it into her pinafore pocket while the adults were speaking, but the words she did not recognize at all brought her attention to them.

“I am not afraid of Welltravelers,” Theodore said while his eyes became half-lidded, as though he was tired once again. He very much was, in fact. “After all, even roads decay over time.”

“Be that as it may, my lord, I would advise you to be careful! You have-” Mister Stewart did not directly say it, but he did tip his head in Olli’s direction. “You have much to be careful about.”

“I thank you for your concern, Mister Stewart,” Theodore spoke softly, his eyes almost completely closed. Then he yawned and suddenly perked up, or gave the impression he was. Fighting back a yawn he asked Olli, “have you finished your meal?”

She nodded.

“Then,” he stood up while taking the newspaper, “thank you for your hospitality, Mister Stewart, as well as your warning. We shall certainly keep a wary eye out for anything unusual, and I will tell Mister Burke immediately.”

“It was a pleasure, my lord,” Mister Stewart bowed as two young women in matching bland green dresses emerged to take the items off the table quickly and silently.

Theodore took Olli’s hand and pulled her along swiftly back to the door outside. The footmen were sitting around the returned carriage, drinking from heavy metal tankards with plates of butter and honey covered bread on their laps. The coachman was also sitting with them, although instead of a plate of bread he was precariously balancing a bowl of stew on his knee. Olli saw the dog sitting next to one of the wheels, no longer panting and instead sprawled out in the sunlight. She slipped from Theodore’s grip and approached the large hound, reaching into her pinafore’s pocket to pull out the cold slice of meat.

“I have some news to share,” Theodore announced to them.

“Eh?”

“What is it, m’lord,” another said.

“There is apparently a group of highwaymen set about the road to Paeth,” Theodore explained. “Mister Stewart tells me they are led by a Welltraveler.”

“That’s no good,” the coachman bemoaned. “If he twists with the road, we might be out in the moor a’night long!”

“Mister Burke, y-” Theodore had turned his head towards Olli. “...What are you doing to Mister Burke?” He asked.

Olli looked over her shoulder, still holding the meat out to the dog who seemed very curious of the situation it was in. “Nothing! I’m gonna give the dog a snack!”

“That’s Mister Burke,” Theodore explained.

Olli looked at the dog. The dog looked at her. She looked at Theodore, Theodore looked at the dog, and then Olli looked back at the dog. The dog nodded.

“Why is he a dog!?” She asked, dropping the meat and hopping backwards.

“Because of the Neighbors,” Theodore explained. “It is quite rude to inquire into the situations of others without asking, come on now, back into the carriage as I speak to the adults.”

Olli stared still at Mister Burke, who continued to lay on the ground while staring at her.

“Olivia.”

“I’m going!” She rushed back to the inside of the carriage, left alone inside with nothing but books about awful children experiencing awful fates to keep her company.