Rather than Resenting: Ch. 25

A Façade of a Meeting and a Talk in the Woods

Notes:

Yet another chapter-I-wrote-last-night-and-today 😅

I forgot how stressful the last week of posting a story is when you're scrambling to get everything in order...

And giving credit where credit is due, this chapter is here because Azog said covering up Cerlon's birth was shifty, so I changed it. And then Janner decided to apologize to Lorren, hence this chapter.

*****

Janner had made it down the stairs and was planning on finding the itinerary for the Skreean meetings to figure out just where Lorren was staying when Kalmar burst into the private sector of the castle, declared that he was needed in the meeting, and grabbed his wrist, dragging him into the conference room.

“Kalmar, I was going to—” he began protesting, but he was cut off.

“Don't say anything, just come to the meeting! Uncle Artham and me—”

“You mean, ‘Uncle Artham and I,’” Janner muttered under his breath, but Kalmar did not hear him.

“Make up the total number of Annieran representatives,” Kalmar plowed on, still dragging Janner even when the got into the conference room, where everyone sitting at the table began staring at them. “And I want us to have a better advantage.”

“What do you mean, ‘advantage’?” Clout roared. “It's already two-one-two! Thorn doesn't count, and Oskar and Leeli aren't here to help anyway!”

Thorn chose not to argue with him and simply agreed with a prolonged nodding of his head.

Olumphia, apparently having the exact opposite reaction to her husband at the prospect of Janner joining them, crossed her burly arms over her chest.  “If you think adding Janner will tip the scales in your favor, you’ve got another think* coming.”

“Not true!” Kalmar retorted childishly, planting his hand on his hip. “Janner's great at negotiating and stuff!”

“And I'm not?” Artham asked him accusingly, though at that point it seemed as though whatever they were deciding on or talking about was really just a game.

Janner took the moment when Kalmar removed his hand from his wrist to edge away so he would not be ensnared again. “What makes you think I even want to debate with Clout or Olumphia or anyone else? It looks like you have whatever the issue is under control, and any more than two-one-two wouldn't be fair.”

“Thank you!” Clout exclaimed, looking as though he felt justified even while Kalmar and Olumphia glared at him and Janner.

“What's the debate on anyway?” Janner asked, a bit curious even though he really just wanted to leave.

Artham smiled. “Just a discussion on exchanging students between Guildling Hall and the Annieran schools.”

Janner furrowed his brow. “Don't we do that?”

“Yes, we do,” Clout answered him pointedly.

“I just want to make sure changing the Hollish kids’ accents isn't part of the Annieran curriculum. I am Head Guildmadam still, after all,” Olumphia stated, glaring at Kalmar.

“Well, we would have to get the Headmaster of the School of Arts for that,” Kalmar began. “I don't think I can change things like that on a whim—”

“Oy, so you do admit you change their sweet Hollish accents?!” Olumphia yelled accusingly, jumping up from her seat. 

Kalmar groaned and began waving his arm dramatically. “Only when we can't understand them!”

Janner chose that time to slip away again, because clearly he was not actually needed at the meeting. It wasn't even a meeting, really. More of a yell- and get-caught-up-on-everything-fest than anything else.

Just outside the conference room sitting on a small stand was a copy of the itinerary that had, “please do not remove” stamped on the front page. Janner flipped to the table of contents (which, thankfully, existed) and ran his finger down the line of many, many items until he came to, “board.” Why the items were not in alphabetical order he did not know, because having “board” nearly at the bottom of the second page made no sense, even if it was ordered by something like, say, importance. If it was ordered in matters of importance, “board” should have been near the top. He made a mental note to ask Haldrid what his organization system was at some point.

He managed to find the section, though, and he also managed to figure out where Lorren was staying. He smiled when he saw the location. It was Mr. and Mrs. Strigg’s home, down the path and just a few minutes away from Castle Rysen. They had given them the option to move into Castle Rysen after Kalmar and Galya’s marriage, but they had declined, graciously, saying they appreciated the offer but loved their home and never wanted to leave it, no matter what happened.

Maker, please let it go alright, he prayed as he left the castle and started for the path in the woods. Please, give me the words to somehow shed light on the lies I have told without completely obliterating my friendship with Lorren. 

Janner sighed at that thought but did not pause to think or slow his pace. Well, he did think, he just didn't pause. He has come to know Lorren fairly well over the course of the past several years, but what he did not know about was how he would react to being lied to. Repeatedly. Janner knew he wouldn't react well, not a chance of it. He would probably be furious. Of course, it would depend on who lies to me, he mused. If it was Kalmar, that would be entirely different than if it was Sara.

He had almost reached the house, when he realized he was freezing and had forgotten to grab a cloak before leaving. Considering that he was trying to be more honest, he decided against concocting some plan to make Sara or Nia think he had worn his cloak when he in fact had not. Instead, he went up to the door of the Strigg’s home and rapped his knuckles on the wood, praying silently all the while. Maker, please give me the words! He begged.

The door opened promptly and on the other side was Lorren, smiling as he almost always did. “Janner, what brings you here?” He asked warmly.

“I was hoping I could talk with you about something,” Janner replied, keeping what they actually wanted to talk about more under wraps.

Lorren nodded. “Sure, why not? Mr. and Mrs. Striggs aren't home, otherwise I would invite you in. But I'll come out, and I'll get you a cloak, too. You look like you're freezing,” he added, disappearing inside for a moment. Janner opened his mouth to protest, but shut it after a few seconds. his words would be useless, anyway.

He was back within a minute, a thick cloak draped over his arm and a thin one around his shoulders. “Here,” he said, passing the thick one to Janner. “I brought a thin and a thick one with me, but it's not nearly cold enough here for me to want to use an enormous cloak. So you can use it and not aggravate anyone by freezing to death.”

Janner laughed at the comment, but the truth was that he was too nervous for it to be a true laugh.  “And how do you know I’ve aggravated people by almost freezing to death?”

“Well, for one thing you just told me,” Lorren began, grinning as they left the path and stepped into the snowy woods. “And for another, over the years at these diplomatic events I’ve picked up on some things. That specific piece of information, though, came to light about five years ago, I think? I remember Sara spending almost the entire three weeks trying to keep you from going outside at all because she thought you would get sick, and then panicking when that did happen.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that, ‘getting sick,’” Janner protested, though he was glad of the temporary distraction from actually having to tell Lorren the real reason he was there. “It was really just a cough.”

Lorren gave him a withering look. “That’s not what I remember. But I know you’re going to deny my memory, which is excellent, so I won’t even bother debating about it. The point is that when you were gone from meetings for a week because of your ‘cough’ that had a fever attached to it—” Janner groaned and Lorren couldn’t help but chuckle — “Artham explained that in your efforts to rescue Kalmar from Amrah several months earlier, you almost froze to death from the snow, which was probably what got you so sick afterwards and prompted Sara's panicking.”

Janner was thankful the Maker had led him to confess his bitterness and even get to the point where he was almost ready to forgive Amrah (or meld with her, at the very least), because if Lorren had mentioned something like that even two weeks earlier…

He allowed the thought to trail off and turned his attention back to Lorren.

“So that’s how I know,” Lorren finished. “And in that moment, I decided to try and alleviate some of Sara’s stress when I possibly could, because there’s no need to worry her.” 

They stopped under a particularly large tree that had a snow covered rock at its base. Lorren brushed off the rest of the snow from the grey surface that just barely peaked through and sat down on it. Janner joined him, his heart pounding because he knew exactly what the next words would be.  

“Anyway, what was it you wanted me to talk about?” Lorren asked, smiling up at him. “Oh, and you can join me on the rock if you want.”

Janner shook his head. “Thanks, but you might regret that offer in a few minutes.”

Lorren furrowed his brow. “What are you going to do in those few minutes, threaten me in some violent manner? Do you even have—” he paused and leaned over to his left to check something out. “Yep, you do have your sword. Huh, so that’s a possibility. But I doubt that’s what you’re going to say.”

A bit of laughter was tempted to sneak its way out of Janner’s chest, but it decided to stay put. He wasn’t sure what the look on his face was, but Lorren looked worried. 

“What’s going on?” he asked seriously, with a note of something else in his voice. “You’ve looked stressed the entire time. Is everything alright?”

Janner decided not to try hiding it any longer. Maker, please give me the right words. “No,” he sighed. “And it’s completely my fault.”

“What is?” Lorren wrinkled his nose, looking confused. “You haven’t done anything.

Shaking his head, Janner forced himself to continue. “I have done something. I lied to a number of people, and I lied to you as well.”

Lorren stared at him, what looked like concern, hurt, and sadness working through his grey eyes. “About what?” he asked quietly, breaking his gaze and looking down at the snow.

 Janner winced despite the quietness with which the words were said. He had seen it already: the broken trust. It was terrifying. And he hadn’t even explained what the lie was yet. Why hadn’t he just told everyone sooner? Why hadn’t he at least told Lorren initially? 

“About Sara and the baby,” he whispered, staring at his twisting hands. “She had him a month ago, which was a month early. We named him Cerlon. She was sick her whole pregnancy and when he was born, he was sick, too. We didn’t think he would live. But he’s doing better now.” A smile came onto his face just at the thought of Cerlon being alright and alive. “We’re going to tell everyone at the Ball tomorrow, just to get the lie out of the way. But I wanted to tell you specifically, because you’re my friend, and I should have told you in the first place. I didn’t, though, and that was wrong. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

When he stopped talking, complete silence filled the woods. Janner kept staring at his hands, looking at the healing cuts near the scar on his right palm. He rubbed the scar to distract him from the unbearable quiet, feeling the pin-prickles associated with such a motion.

After a while, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Lorren standing there, and he wondered how he hadn’t heard the crunch of snow that Lorren surely ]made when he got up from the rock.

“I’m not super happy you didn’t tell me what was going on,” Lorren began. “But I understand why you didn’t. Oh, I can’t believe you had to go through all that.” He shook his head, sympathy in his voice. “Was there a time when the baby almost…? You know.”

Janner cleared his throat, too worried to let the relief that Lorren wasn’t furious wash over him. “The day you and the other Skreeans arrived. Cerlon stopped breathing that morning.”

Lorren looked at him, aghast. “And you didn’t take the day off? I will never understand your need for diplomacy no matter what, I really won’t. No wonder you didn’t attend the evening meal!” He shook his head. “Janner, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thank you. There’s someone else I need to tell as well, though.” Janner had been encouraged by Lorren’s acceptance, even though it had started out a little rocky. Maybe telling Greston wouldn’t go terribly, either.

“Is it Maraly?” Lorren asked. “I can come, if you want. For moral support.” There was an odd hint of eagerness in his voice. 

Janner shook his head. “No, it’s Greston. He’s the one in charge of the private dock. He always asked how Sara was doing when we crossed paths. I told him that she wasn’t doing super well during her pregnancy, but he doesn’t know about Cerlon.”

Lorren smiled. “Well, I’ll give you moral support for him, too. If you want it, that is.”

Laughing lightly, Janner agreed. “Sure, why not? And thank you,” he added as they made their way back to the trail so they could get to the port more easily.”

“For what?” 

“For not being furious,”’ Janner replied quietly. “I was worried you would be.”

Lorren shook his head. “I’m not furious about anything. I'm more frustrated you didn’t take the entire day off when Cerlon stopped breathing than about the other. Not telling anyone, including me, makes sense. Sort of. Lying wasn’t the best choice, but I guess you felt like you didn’t have another option. Not spending the entire day with your family, though, that was not the greatest choice.”

Janner looked back on that day and how much of a mess it had been. “I wish I had spent more of it with my family, too.”

On reaching the port, they found Greston quickly, and Janner proceeded to tell him everything about Cerlon. Greston answered him with the confession that when he was married before being Fanged, his first child was born sick and weak. She had died just days later. They visited family not long after, expecting to have to deal with speaking about a tradegy they did not want to suffer through anymore, but somehow the correspondence letters were lost in the mail.

"Miraculously, we didn't have to speak of it," he admitted. "We didn't even tell them we had had a baby in the first place. I wish we had told them, though. Now there's no chance of it."

In the end, he said he completely understood and that he praised the Maker Cerlon was doing better. "I'm looking forward to seeing him tomorrow night, if i can," he added, his eyes twinkling.

Baffled as he and Lorren walked away that neither person he was terrified to tell the truth to was furious, Janner felt his heart lift, both with relief that neither friendship had been severed and with gladness that he had confessed to both of them. Maybe the Annierans would understand as they had, and maybe it would not be a disaster after all.

He thanked the Maker that He was once again so gracious as to be willing to right his wrongs.

*****

Notes:

Let me know if anything is weird. I hope a bunch of stuff isn't weird, because the Cerlon thing is already forcing me to make massive edits to a TON of the climax, but that's okay, because it's going to end up better than it was before. This happened with the climax for SSitS too 😅

BUT if something is weird, don't hesitate to let me know! Some of the best parts of my writing have come into existence because of reader's suggestions and comments^^