Fox
FOX
AGE 15
It was the fourteenth king who put into place laws against Dragonborn possessing and reading books after it was discovered that written communication was used in the great uprising. While the utilization of crude symbols and numbers are now allowed for bookkeeping, any form of written dragon-tongue is considered treason. All written communications between Dragonborn are immediately deemed suspect and cannot be withheld from inspection.
-The Laws and Rights of Suvi by Hurnica June
F ox couldn’t help the startled jump as the young maid entered the library, footsteps so soft he only heard the squeak of the door on its hinges. He was holding his afternoon tea as he leaned over the book he was reading, warming his fingers against the chill of the cold season coming through the cracks between windowpanes.
He wasn’t supposed to be reading in the library. He especially wasn’t supposed to be reading the small fictional romance book he was leaning over, its pages so crisp it was clear he was one of the first to read it. Why it was even in their family library, he had no idea. Perhaps his mother had bought it before she’d married his father, who’d taught her quickly that reading for fun was a pointless endeavor and a waste of a woman’s brain. wasn’t completely clear on whether he agreed with his father on that account, but he also couldn’t help but enjoy wasting his brain occasionally when the weather was cold and the manor too empty and quiet. His father had been locked in his study with Chief Commander Harlow for the last two hours, so he thought it was as good a time as any to escape.
The squeak of the hinge, short and only loud because of the silence of the library, sent a wave of nausea through him and he jerked, eyes flying to the door. He expected to see the reddening face of his father, not the round face of a girl not much younger than him. Her eyes were wide and brown, skin tawny and cheeks freckled.
His eyes flickered away with disinterest, only to see the splatter of tea, drying along the edge of the book and onto the loose pages on the desk below.
“Shit!” He yelled the curse louder than he meant to as he stumbled back, placing the rest of his tea somewhere safe. Without much thought, he pressed his shirt into the pages, hoping to soak up the moisture. But his attempts were futile and the stain only seemed to grow and darken the longer he looked at it.
He could probably put the book back and his father would never notice the stains on the pages, but the stack of papers that he’d so carefully not touched on the desk had their own splatter of tea, the drops forming a beautiful pattern of his future pain. They were his father’s documents, so there was no hiding the damage.
“Why did you sneak up on me like that?” he said, snapping at the girl. “What do you even want?”
“I’m supposed to clean?—”
“Well, you’ve made a mess now.”
She moved forward with a look of contrition, holding her rag like it might fix the problem better than his shirt. He couldn’t stop the wave of anger that coursed through him and he grabbed her by the front of her dress.
“Are you stupid?”
“I’m s-sorry.” She gave two bows, one after the other, as if they might help and erase the damage already done.
“What’s going on in here?”
The sound of his father’s voice sent an icy chill down his spine.
“Nothing,” said, taking a step away from the maid and trying to wipe his face of emotion.
His father’s cold eyes took in the scene, glancing between him and the girl before moving on to the desk behind . A hand on his shoulder pushed him to the side.
“I thought you were with the chief commander,” said, fumbling over the words. His father’s eyes didn’t leave the desk.
“I was. We had a very interesting conversation about you and a potential opening in the junior scouts. I am to find you to tell you about it.”
straightened his shoulders, trying to catch his father’s eyes. “I would be glad to talk?—”
“Tell me who is responsible for this mess.”
bit back the immediate response that the three drops of tea across the desk were hardly a mess, but he knew it would do no good. His father was a meticulous man who expected others to hold the same standards. The pens on the desk always perfectly arranged, his papers never out of order or crooked.
His father, with a look of distaste, picked up the book he had been reading, turning it to look at the cover.
“Is this what you were yelling at the maid about?”
“Yes.”
“She was reading?”
looked at the girl whose face had gone gray at the accusation. It was illegal for Dragonborn to read. She likely didn’t know how to. Still, she didn’t even open her mouth to argue, eyes pleading with ’s own without words.
“Yes,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue. “Though she was just flipping through the pages. I doubt she truly understood the words. She spilled the tea when I came in and found her.”
It was a ridiculous story, but his father didn’t question it. Perhaps they both wanted to convince themselves the lie was true.
“Well then,” his father said, carefully taking the book and papers and dropping them into the trash, “I expect you to punish her.”
kept his eyes focused on his father, not wishing to see those of the maid. “I was going to fire her, sir.”
“You catch her engaged in treasonous activities, but you think firing her is the correct punishment?”
He thought he might have heard the sharp intake of breath from the maid, or perhaps it was his own. The room felt too hot and he had to fist his hand in his tunic to stop himself from pulling at his collar.
“As I said, I could tell she was only looking through the pages. I believe firing her and informing future employers of her laziness and clumsiness in her duties will be a fitting punishment. She’ll likely struggle to find employment in this quarter again.”
The silence stretched before his father finally nodded, a small smile stretching across his face. “I expect her to be marked for treason before you release her. Have her taken to the prison and then meet me in my office so we can discuss your promotion.”
didn’t breathe again until the snap of his father’s footsteps faded into the distance. The maid was still standing, the only evidence that she understood what had happened in the shake of her hand as she held her rag with white knuckles. He focused on her hands, the red, dry skin along her knuckles and small enflamed cuts across her hands from cleaning. He did not look her in the eyes.
“Go downstairs and collect your last wages from Maria. If I see you again, I’ll send you to the prison for that brand.”
She turned, her hands no longer visible to him and rushed from the room before he could say more. He was relieved. He had nothing else he could say.