O0o 17 All It Needs

The ballroom in the east wing of the estate suited Jules's purposes very well. He had bales of wool already carded, a donation to the cause from Roche Dairy. He had seven spinning wheels at his disposal, on loan from various people living on the estate. Some of their owners were already at work, older women who knew their business. Jules's knitting cla.s.s consisted of Halian, Lucien, Sam, Kara, and fifteen of St. Veras' old servants, as well as twenty of Tales-Vier's regular staff.

Felix had set up in a corner, making cloaks and coats. Halian had hired a shoemaker, and his abrasive personality wasn't conducive to Felix's snappy sadness. Watching a woman starve to death right in front of him had splintered his nerves.

"You b.u.g.g.e.ring blowhard," Felix hissed at the man. "Do I tell you how to make shoes? Mind your f.u.c.king business!"
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Halian bowed his head and bit his lip to stop a smile. "Gla.s.ser," he called out. "Leave my tailor be, please."

"He does his st.i.tching all wrong," Gla.s.ser protested.

"I'm not paying you to pick faults. I'm paying you to make shoes," Halian said firmly. "Seven hundred pairs of them, actually. So, you don't have time to watch what Felix's doing. I want this done by the end of next week."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," Sam exclaimed suddenly. "That's the fifth time I've had to tear out a row!"

Lucien was the best of all of them, excepting Jules himself. He'd listened to every word Jules said, put all his focus into learning. Jules thought it was due to taking poverty as a personal affront. He sat right beside Lucien, giving him praise as often as possible while trying not to be obvious about it.

"Hal," Jules said. "What about giving the kids moccasins, too? They stretch to fit as the kid grows. If they wore two pairs of them, it would be almost as good as getting hard shoes. I mean, they grow out of those fast."

"Moccasins?" Gla.s.ser said, his tone resounding with horror. "Peasant shoes?"

"Who do you ????? we're kitting ????" Lucien asked, angry and loud. "If they needed shod like horses, I'd make it happen. We don't need your opinion!"

Halian smiled proudly. "Make moccasins, too, Gla.s.ser," he ordered.

"How many pairs, sir?" Gla.s.ser asked, sniffing in disdain. "What sizes? I'll need a lot more leather."

"Sir," Sam said. "Meg has about a thousand rabbit pelts in storage. Fur is insulating. It'd just be a matter of sewing them with the fur turned inside."

"Excellent, Sam." Halian nodded toward the door. "Go and ask her. Take a break."

Sam left gratefully.

"Quit humming!" Felix shouted at Gla.s.ser. "You're out of tune and out of breath!" He punctuated his disgust by throwing a lump of tailor's chalk at the man. Gla.s.ser dodged, and the chalk shattered against the far wall.

"Gla.s.ser, set up on the other side of the room," Halian ordered. "Felix, here." He tossed his hip flask over. "You drink that."

"He was out of tune," Lucien muttered to Jules. "Gaslighting old b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"What's gaslighting mean?" Jules asked.

"Subtle, persistent sabotage that slowly wrecks someone," Lucien explained. "It's usually done by people close to you, or, people with the means to regularly be close. I don't know the origin of the term." He finished a sweater and threw it onto the pile at his feet. In two hours, he'd made five sweaters, which was amazing. "It's also called 'omega warfare', because it's covert. Sneaky."

Jules grinned. "Because, omegas have to attack on the sly?"

"Usually. Most of them aren't like you, Jules." Lucien shrugged. "But, maybe that's because of how they're treated, not how they're born. Halian told me about the school you come from. I'd like to see it."

"I wouldn't let you out of my sight," Jules said, being honest.

"Yeah. I know." Lucien didn't defend himself. He didn't sound upset, either.

Halian reached over, grabbing Lucien's choke chain. He took it off his brother and dropped it right on the floor. "Don't ever make me put it on you again," he said softly.

Lucien lowered his head exactly as an omega would do when contrite. "Yes, brother," he said.

Jules let out a shaky breath, and furiously resumed knitting. There were so many different kinds of tension in the room. He showed Lucien a new st.i.tch, a tight one, and watched in amazement as the young man just took off with it. "Wow," he said. "You Novar men are something else. It usually takes ????? to get a guy able to learn this stuff."

"I ???'? have poor people in my new home," Lucien said, hunching over. "There's no reason why ???????? can't be warm, fed and sheltered. All it takes is for people with too much to give something away."

Kara put her knitting down, bursting into tears. Holding her hands to her face, she fled the room.

Lucien watched her go, his face all confusion and sudden worry. "Is she all right?"

"Kara's family starved to death on St. Veras' land," one of the new maids informed quietly.

Halian nodded at Lucien. "Maybe you'd like to see to her?"

Lucien looked torn. He wanted to knit for his personal crusade, but the girl's sudden flight had shaken him. He dropped his new work and stood up, though, choosing to attack the pain that was so close. He sped after Kara.

"Ultimately, your brother's transformation is his own success," Felix said, looking at Hal. "But, it wouldn't have happened without you. Bravo, sir."

As plainly and sincerely said, Felix's words washed through the room. A lot of the staff murmured their agreement, looking directly at the master of the house.

Halian smiled, just a little. "I couldn't have done it without Jules and his caring heart," he said.

Jules blushed, and put his head down.