O0o 30 Too Bold

"Don't blame yourself, Sam," Halian said, accepting his belt and putting it back on. "I knew this was coming. The spoiled, hard-hearted town alphas don't like that I feed and clothe their slave labor forces. Mother is bringing her personal guards here, anyway. They are heavily trained and armed, and fight like five men apiece. Let it be known in the household that none are to wander about alone."

"Groups of ten?" Sam suggested.

"Fifteen," Halian corrected. "I'm going to get word to the governor about what's happening in town. He'll probably send soldiers. I hope so. These men need lined up outside the law house and executed."

Charles cautiously touched Jules's hand. "Boy? You all right?"

Jules looked at his father fully. "You want my forgiveness?"

"Yes, son, I do," Charles said.

"Then, stay here and help us," Jules said. "Hal just started a war."

-o-o-o-

Jules took a late lunch with Ellaine so Halian could have private time composing the important letter requesting more aid. She didn't say much, but that was okay. Most everyone that had seen the display this morning, had talked about it. A lot of people were discussing defense and fortification now, and Ellaine apparently had a lot on her mind.

Charles came in as Jules sat down to plan a dish for dinner. He sat close to Jules, but not too close, and watched him draw the black-stroke characters. "That alpha of yours is potent," he said. "I've never seen the like."

"Hal doesn't play around," Jules said. He'd found it easier to talk now, for some reason. Maybe the stimulating, horrible exhibition had broken his tongue free. "You insult his family and people, and you suffer for it."

"That Errgard fellow might not live," Charles said. "Why he didn't ask for mercy before his nose got ruined, I don't know. That was stupid."

Jules smiled. "No offense, Dad, but most of you alphas are stupid. Arrogance and expectation stop the learning process."

"I can agree," Charles said.

Jules got up to put more wood in the closest fireplace.

"What's the deal with the clothes you wear?" Charles asked. "They're not... feminine, but they're not..."

"I'm technically an omega warrior," Jules told him, sitting back down. "The only weapon I'm allowed is the fan, so I got good with two of them."

"You could have killed me in a second in the parlor," Charles noted. "I approve."

"Thanks." Jules looked up and thought about Ellaine's family soup recipe that used celery, heavy cream and bacon. He could play with that a little bit, and take some of the load off of his favorite omega cook this evening.

"Are you working in the kitchen?" Charles asked.

"I do sometimes. I like Ellaine a lot, and keeping a regular staff of a hundred fed is tiring for her. She has help now, but they irritate her." He decided to put on baby Lima beans with onions and chunks of fatty ham, because winter had a way of starving people, even the ones that ate well. "I'm been using a lot of Mom's recipes here. The servants like the peasant food. Even Hal does. He doesn't eat enough."
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Charles nodded. "You really care about him. Even if I couldn't see it, I could smell it. And, it's mutual. I'm glad you got someone who can protect and feed you. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I did care that much."

"I believe you." Jules got up again, and went to the dry goods part of the pantry to retrieve a sack of beans. He put a bowl down and began sorting them. Somehow, one had to deal with getting the occasional rock in a sack of beans. Jules didn't understand that one bit.

"Jules... Not that I need more nightmare fuel, but I believe I owe it to you to have a look at what that sonuvab.i.t.c.h St. Veras did to you," Charles said quietly.

Jules looked at him a moment. "Dad. It won't help."

"Please, son," Charles entreated. "I have to have a full accounting, or my sins will never leave me."

Jules nodded. He got up and locked the interior door, then the door that led out to the back lawn. "I want you to know that the other thing you see on my back was all my idea," he said, taking off his outer kimono. "I did it so no one could ever claim me but Hal. And, he hates that I had it done. Just so you know." He lifted his shirt, and turned to show his father the ruin of his back.

Utter silence descended. All Jules could hear was the various fires crackling as wood was consumed. Then, his father let out a pained sob. "Jules, cover up," he whispered.

Jules let his shirt drop, and put his kimono back on. He resumed sorting rocks from beans. "It's happened to many omegas," Jules told him. "You hate that it happened, and I get that, but what would help is if you started helping all omegas, like Hal does. Like his servants do. If you can prevent any other father from seeing that on their kid, it will be so worth it."

"I swear, I'll do better, be better," Charles whispered, staring at the table top. "I don't know what was wrong with me for so long, I don't."

"Maybe possession?" Jules asked. "I've heard that's possible. Hal's family worships the same G.o.d you do. They use the angel, Michael, on a lot of their correspondence."

"Really?" Charles sat up a little and rubbed his eyes. "That's good. That's good, Jules. Do you have a copy of the Bible here?"

"What's that?" Jules asked.

"It's... It's a holy book that tells people how to act. It's hard to get now, being long out of print." Charles reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out a small book. "All I could find was the New Testament. It's the reason I even saw what a stupid f.u.c.ker I've been."

"I'll ask Hal for one," Jules said. "I can read and write, thanks to you and Mom. Fong kept that up for me, taught me English as well as the Arcalan long-character. I know the short form, too." He finished the first bowl and dumped it into an empty stock pot, coming back to start the second. "I can do math up to a point. I thought fractions were fun, but I hated algebra. Fong gave up on me there, but I'm not sorry. There's no such thing as an imaginary number. Something exists, or it doesn't."

Charles tilted his head towards Jules, and smiled fully. "You're so right," he said.

Jules smiled back, just a bit, and kept sorting.

"Oh, dear Lord," Felix's voice called out. "Who's in the kitchen? I need ginger root!"

Jules got up and unlocked both doors. "Sorry, Felix," he said. "I was showing Dad my back, and I couldn't take the risk of someone walking in."

"Quite right," Felix said as he strolled past Charles. "No one should see you so intimately but friends and family." He went to Ellaine's spice cabinet, opening it with a flourish. "This amazing woman that cooks for us greedy ingrates, keeps an astonishing fresh stock of herbs and spices," he commented. "She's promised me I can help her expand her personal herb bed this spring. If someone can find me some pineapple sage and Thai basil, I'll cry."

"How's the campaign for Sam going?' Jules asked, smiling.

"I give up," Felix said flatly. "He's never going to get over his late wife. I'll keep him as a friend, though, because he's very interesting. I'll have to set my sights on someone else." He plucked out a jar and set it down. "What I need is some pig-headed, hairy, halfway intelligent brute. I love the forceful ones."

Jules laughed. "Why hasn't someone taken you yet, you slob?"

"I drive off the unworthy with a stick," Felix said. "Actually, no, I don't. The unworthy get a crack at me, too, because sometimes the disreputable ones have more to offer." He turned, picked up his jar of ginger, and eyed Charles. "Are you drinking the cleanser?"

"I'm... due for a dose," Charles admitted.

Felix heaved a disgusted sigh. He took an envelope from his pocket, tapped powder from it into a clean cup, and deftly poured water from the constantly hot kettle that sat on Ellaine's favorite stove. "You stupid man," he said, evenly. "You need a caretaker. I'm sorry the love of your life is gone, but she'd hate you going to pieces for her sake. Drink the f.e.c.king tonic. Get better. Patch up your s.h.i.t and shine, pretty. You disgrace the Maker by not living up to your potential."

With that, Felix vacated, humming.

"Tea tomorrow, not today!" Jules shouted after him, wondering which maid had eavesdropped on his first two encounters with his dad, and then told Felix. It didn't really matter, but Jules liked knowing which people were the sneaks and blabbermouths.

"Noted, darling!" Felix called back. "Get ready to tat for me, because the sweet Isla's due, and I want to make her another gown!"

Charles looked at Jules. "That is some omega," he said. "He's your friend?"

"If Hal isn't available, I sleep in his room," Jules admitted. "He's protective of me, loyal, and mentoring. I like him a lot."

Charles sipped the brew he'd been given. "You know he's a witch."

Jules blinked. "Yes. A good one."

Charles smiled. "I fully believe it."

Jules lifted an eyebrow. "How did you know, anyway?"

"I saw the edge of a telling tattoo peeking out from his sleeve as he examined me," Charles answered. "He smelled of opium and star anise. Under his left ear is a pentagram shaped scar, which is a white witch symbol. Too, he's just bold. A bold omega is one with power."

Jules nodded once to show a.s.sent and a tiny bit of respect, which he noted made his father both sad and happy, at least by his scent. He finished sorting beans from rocks, throwing the pebbles into the fireplace closest to them. He poured boiling water onto the beans, and put them on a medium-hot section of the cook stove. Then, he retrieved a slab of bacon, a small venison roast, and six sweet onions. He collected three good knives, and sat back down.

"You are every bit the best parts of your mother," Charles said, subdued and reverential. "Her smile, her cheekbones, her ears..." He paused to smile. "You walk like her, talk like her, stand like her. You even slightly smell of her. I want to cry and laugh just being with you, Jules."

Jules knew his mother fully as far as he'd had time with her. He remembered her to her last detail. He hadn't seen her in Hal's mirror, though. Perhaps his father's love made details sharper. He cut the onions first to get the crying out of the way, and took them outside of breathing s.p.a.ce. When he sat again to slice the bacon, he paid thought to how much a love so strong would corrupt and madden, if taken away.

It would be worth it, he decided.