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loren Loren had seen the notice for the military: he’d been going through everything on the Notice Board, trying to reacclimate himself to life in the Hollowed Grounds. It seemed he’d missed a lot in the year he’d been lost in his own head. The one that gave him the greatest pause—after Edrei’s death and Zariah’s disappearance, although maybe not even then—had been the invitation to Ronin and Remi’s wedding. At first, the Launceleyn had just stared at the invite, completely dumbstruck. Then, hysterical laughter had bubbled up; he didn’t know how long he had stayed here, chuckling like a madman. Of course his two former lovers were now married. Of course they were. His life hadn’t taught him much, but it had taught him that he was likely to get suckerpunched at the most unlikely of times. And the two men Loren had loved, in his own way, had found happiness together. He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, given that they were both loyal, smart, and kind enough to befriend even Loren, who’d hardly been kind back. At least, not a first. So, though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not really, he was avoiding those particular reunions for as long as possible. Thankfully, there was quite a bit to occupy his time. With Edrei dead and Zariah gone, the full weight of taking care of the remaining Launceleyns fell squarely on his shoulders. Once upon a time he would’ve wanted that, wanted to be seen as the most important member of his family. Well, he’d gotten what he wanted. And it tasted like ashes and regret. Still, he did have work to do. Or rather, Loren didn’t have work to do. Given that he was unemployed—and given that he, at least temporarily, had more mouths than his own to feed—the former librarian needed to figure out a way to sustain everyone currently staying at the Launceleyn Manor. While he’d never been a soldier, at least not full time, he had been a member of the volunteer guard back in Northaven. Even though he hadn’t really been in the militia before, nor was he interested in leadership, he figured they’d welcome any able body. Not that Loren looked able-bodied these days: his frame was rail thin, almost worryingly so. He hardly looked like he’d be of much use in a fight. But if he was forced to use the strength of his arms, that meant he was losing already. His magic, on the other hand, was quite a potent tool, even if he trended towards the lighter magics. Regardless, he came, though without weapons and without speaking. He stood in the back and off to one side, though there were only two strangers there. Meeting one of his old friends—or even one of his old rivals—wasn’t something he felt up to. For maybe the first time, Loren wished he had the illusion magic his particular branch of the Launceleyns had been experts at. It would make this whole sneaking around, hoping not to be noticed thing a whole lot easier. |
