The seventh day arrived, and we were crowded around Nimyra’s dining room table, enjoying a scrumptious breakfast of oats, sausage, eggs, and pancakes.    

The duchess wanted to throw a party to celebrate the orphanage’s completion. Rather, it's 'near-completion.' The plaques for the buildings, which were named after Olga's and Merka's siblings, still needed to be hammered in. The homestead still lacked furniture, too. But that was locally sourced. The duchess had contracted the local villages to handle that task, which would bolster the economy. Deliveries were scheduled to begin next week. 

Anyway, the duchess was financing the cookout. But supplies were temporarily delayed by a day, so we had nothing to do. We were about to discuss that when a knock echoed from the door.    

Percival answered it, revealing a messenger bearing a medallion etched with Duchess Ashford’s seal. He held a letter, saluted the bodyguard, and apologized for interrupting our meal.   

“Do you have new orders?” I asked when he returned to the table.   

“Not me,” he replied, tossing the parchment. “It’s addressed to you.”  

“Eh? Think it might be Srassa?” Momo’s hopes were quickly slaughtered when Percival said the letter would have had Harold’s seal. Her ears drooped, so she drowned her sorrows in the delicious sweet tea. Sugar improved her mood--especially guilt-free sugar that had no ill-gained consequences from overconsumption.  

“Hmm…” I read the letter… “Eh? Is that really what she wants?”  

“Care to share with the class?” Percival asked.   

“The duchess is readying a wagon.”  

“For…? The bodyguard motioned for me to continue.   

“For a fishing trip to a nearby pond. She knows the foreman gave Olga a fishing rod… ‘It's my fault the completion is delayed. I wanted to mark the occasion by making it a day we would all remember, but I had no idea the supplies would be late. This is my apology, so please make the most of it, my friends. I shall see you all tomorrow!'" 

“A fishing trip? Really?” Olga was so excited she accidentally dropped her spoon.    

“That sounds lovely,” replied Nimyra.   

“That’s unexpected,” said Carrie. “But it’s a sweet gesture.”  

“It is,” added Itarr. “I’m unsure if I’ve ever been fishing, but I’m excited to try it. A little break shouldn’t hurt anything, right?”  

“Then I guess it’s settled. The duchess said our transport will arrive within the hour.”  

Is it like her to push gifts onto people without letting them refuse? Not that we would, but a little more heads-up would’ve been nice.    

“Where will we get the supplies?” Momo had a point, but only to keep up appearances. We could craft the rods and reels in a few minutes. Bait was the last issue, but worms were often found near bodies of water. We could make lures, too.    

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Percival was confident the duchess would supply us with what we needed. “The delay is due to the food. Not the produce, mind you, but the meat. Livestock is being butchered behind schedule. This happens sometimes, but it’s not worth worrying about.”  

“Okay, then. We should get ready,” I said. Albert was coming. Nimyra had business. She moved all her clients to today to free her schedule for the rest of the week. Olga was so excited. She kept looking at her beloved fishing charm with fond, bright eyes.   

We were supposed to get ready, but what could we prepare? We mainly sat around the table until there was another knock at the door. It was an employee of the grotto letting us know our transport arrived.   

“Bye! Have fun, okay?” Nimyra waved as we left. Olga said she didn’t want to use the wheelchair anymore because she felt better. Merka held her hand as Olga took her sweet time. It was a mighty first step, and she walked to the waiting carriages, conquering the latest challenge on her road to recovery. Percival was right. The second one pulled a trailer with everything we needed to have an exciting day at the lake.    

*****

---

*****

The destination was about three hours away—a mere stone’s throw from Lucoa Village. The lake was nestled amidst a tapestry of verdant hills and whispering forests and unveiled itself like a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. Its tranquil waters shimmered under the caress of the early afternoon sun, casting a mesmerizing dance of lightful shadow upon its surface. The air was perfumed with the scent of wildflowers. A weak breeze sent ripples scattering across the surface.   

It…was honestly beautiful.    

Percival took a mighty sniff of fresh air as he emerged from the wagon. “Ahh… Nature… Don’t ya love it? I tell you; it’s times like this which I think I know what an elf feels like.”  

“Is the pretty boy feeling a tad emotional?”  

“Why, yes. The pretty boy is. You gotta appreciate the sights when you can. They’re not guaranteed.”  

“Sounds like there’s a story there.”  

“Maybe there is, but why dilute the day with tales of old?”  

“Maybe you’re right,” I said as we unpacked the trailer to set everything up. Merka and Olga said they would dig for worms. Itarr and Momo joined them.   

They were gone for about thirty minutes. Merka had made a bucket with his magic to hold everything. I swore Olga’s smile was like a perpetual motion machine—it was always there. Perhaps this nature was what she needed? Throughout the day, she never once needed the wheelchair, although she did become wobbly. But Merka was there to support her through her unsteadiness. 

“Eh? Servi, look!” Itarr excitedly pointed to her pole’s tip. It was bending. “What do I do?!”  

“You have to yank it like this,” said Olga, teaching the goddess. “Then start reeling it in. The hook will get caught in the fish’s mouth.”  

“Like…this?” Itarr was too slow. She whined that the fish had stolen her worm. Olga said that was normal. She re-wormed Itarr’s hook like a pro.   

Momo, meanwhile, had tied a pole to her mirror. “It looks weird, but it works,” she said. “It leaves me with two free hands to do whatever I want.”  

“You can accomplish the same if you use a rod holder.”  

“But it’s not the same,” she told Percival. The two…bickered, shooting the banter back and forth. Momo had difficulty conversing with socially established people. Percival was ‘just’ a bodyguard, but he was in service to one of Lando’s most powerful nobles. There was more to the guy than he let on. Besides, we still believed he was somehow related to that damn Viridian. That concern hadn’t left our minds for a single moment.   

So…  

His generosity—the duchess’s kindness, by extension—could not be taken at face value. It was almost ironic. They probably knew I was extremely hard to kill. Likewise, I knew they were probably—most likely—in league with that Keywater. But their friendship felt genuine.   

Then again…  

I could say the same about Sissy and those damn traitors. But this was different. I was fully expecting Percival to be a rat. His betrayal wouldn’t hurt us because we knew it was possible. No, it would sting. But the ache wouldn’t be anywhere like what we experienced in Arcton.   

It almost felt like it wasn’t ‘if’ the betrayal would happen but when. Just when would he strike? How would he do it? Wasn’t there a saying that said to keep your friends close and enemies closer?  

…  

I shook my head, focused on the now, and watched Merka craft a rod of rock. The string was tightly wound dirt that was as thin as fishing wire. Percival whistled his jealously, and Merka quickly made him one.   

“Hmm… Do you think you can make me a net? Or what about a fish stringer? Ooh, maybe a cage? Wait, are we keeping or throwing back?”  

“Keep,” I replied, casting my line out for the fourth time.   

“Ah, good with me. Say, are you planning to cook em' up?” Percival asked Albert.   

“That was the plan. I was thinking of lemon pepper fish skewers." 

“Oh, say no more, my dashing man! I’ll catch a thousand fish to eat your food!” Percival pushed up his sleeves before grabbing three more rods. He slammed the holders with competitive vigor, readied the first one, and launched it... 

Just to cross my line... 

“Yeah… I’ll head over there. But don’t worry,” he said after I untangled the mess. “I’ll catch more than—”  

“Eh? Look, Merky has the first one!” We turned to the golem, who proudly held it up. Albert said it was a small mouth flounder. It was probably five or six pounds. He hooked the stringer through it before tossing it back in the water.   

“Ok, yeah. That’s just one. Just watch out.”  

“Competitive, are we? Are pretty boys supposed to be fiery like that?”  

“Only when they see something they want. You may not believe me, but I am food-motivated. Good cooking is difficult to come by.”  

“Oh?” Momo raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’ll have to tell Ni-Ni her cooking’s difficult.”  

“Eh? No—that’s not what I said,” he defensively barked.   

“Hmm?” Momo grinned. “Oh, but I think it is.”  

“Ahh—”  

“Geez, you walked into that one.”  

“Oh, now a nun’s jumping on the poor handsome boy?”  

“Tee hee!” Carrie giggled, returning to her rod. She loved the quaint, calm atmosphere.   

“Well—I’ll show you! You’re looking at a fishing master—”  

“Hey, Merka caught another one!” Itarr soundly pointed out.   

“That’s zero for the self-proclaimed master. Better hurry if you don’t wanna lose your title.” Momo smirked. Percival stammered, grabbed his stuff, and hustled to the lake’s other side. He hurriedly cast out all the lines…before forgetting about the bait. He returned in partial defeat but departed hastily with a mighty vow of victory.  

Time passed by... 

Percival had caught eight by the fourth hour, but Olga had overtaken Merka’s twelve with her thirteenth. Momo had five, and Itarr and I had three. Albert was more into a deep conversation with Carrie than fishing, but they had caught two each.   

At least no one went away empty-handed, which was good. It was nice to enjoy this relaxing nature. It was so calming and easy on the heart.    

“Um… Servi? Can we talk?” I looked at Olga. The young girl clutched her charm as Merka put her latest catch in the stringer.   

“Sure,” I replied, handing my rod to Momo. I turned to Albert. “You think it’s about time for lunch? We’ve been here a while.”  

“I shall get started without delay,” said the butler. I tossed him the fish we had captured thus far. It was far too much, but any leftovers would be safely stored in our ring.  

“Anyway,” I said, sitting near Olga. “What’s up?”   

The sundress-wearing girl seemed puzzled. Merka placed a calming hand on her quivering shoulder. “It’s… Us. We were talking about the orphanage.”  

“Okay. What about it?”  

“I’ve been having dreams of helping other kids like myself. And… I know I’m little. I’m too young to really work there, but I… I want to do to others what you, Momo, and Itarr did to Merky and me.”  

I feel the same. I love the orphanage, Servi. I want to protect it. I can’t talk, but Olga can. We can work together. 

“I think that’s a sweet idea.” I patted her head. “You’re my spirit, Merka, but I don’t own you. If you want to work at the orphanage, you’ll have our full support.”  

“Will the duchess let us?”   

“I’m sure she will. I’ll talk to Percival about it later.”  

Will it help if I send fish his way? I can lead some to his hook with a golem trout. 

“Giving him a helping hand, eh?” I looked over at the bodyguard.   

“Hahahaha! The mighty master of aquatic capturing has caught yet another one!”   

“You’ll scare the fish if you’re that loud!” replied Carrie. Percival clamped his mouth shut and returned to his lines. His eyes were focused. I doubt the flimsiest movement escaped his hawk-like gaze.   

“Yeah. Might as well.”  

I returned to Albert to help. He absorbed half the fish because Verta was helping with the preparation. She wasn't a Goddess of Cooking, but Verta knew her way around food. She had even taught Albert a few things.  

Merka created a fire pit while Carrie and Momo ventured into the nearby forests to grab wood. Olga, meanwhile, tried to coach Percival. It was the cutest thing. Right on cue…  

He got one.  

And another…  

And another…  

“Muhahaha!!” Percival had this evil laugh like he was a villain. He’d get another bite every time he cast out his lines. He was just two away from Olga's record when it was time to eat.   

The lemon pepper skewers beautifully roasted over the gorgeous fire as the skies turned crimson. We crowded around the fire pit, enjoying our delicious dinner.   

“So you wanna work at the orphanage?” asked Percival, his mouth full of roasted fish. The delectable juices splashed onto his cheeks, but he cleaned it with his tongue.    

“Yes, I do. I…”  

“Ah, say no more, my little fishing captain. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to the duchess.”  

“Really?!”  

“Yep.”  

“Merky, too?”  

“Why, of course. That’s the least I could do for someone who threw me a rock or ten.”  

You knew?  

“Yep. Wasn’t that hard.”  

I’m sorry…  

“It’s okay, my little cheating friend.” Percival gave Merka a solid thwack on the back. “Ah, that’s right. You’re made of stone…" 

Olga giggled.   

But I’m a golem.   

“So? You’ve done more than most others. What you do defines who you are, not what you are. I’d rather have a golem watch my back than some random guy because I know you. The workers know you. Most importantly, the duchess knows you.”  

“From your reports?” asked Momo. Her mirror held four skewers like a dinner plate.  

“Yes. I am--if nothing else-- a handsome man with a thorough eye for detail that would put reporters to shame. My words… Oh, they flow as if the reader were there in person.”  

“You’re really bolstering yourself up,” commented Carrie. She hugged her knees after letting down her hood. She was a nun, but I didn’t think she owned any other clothes. The outfit suited her. I didn’t know her past—no one would unless she shared it—but we wouldn’t force her to reveal it. Some things were hard to talk about. Some things were…better left in the past, I suppose.     

“Of course.” Percival puffed out his chest. Then his tone turned slightly serious. The flickering flames reflected in his golden eyes. “The duchess really does care about her land. She feels responsible since…” He gestured with his hands. “Arcton happened under her rule. So, don’t worry. She’ll grant your wishes. We can ask her together tomorrow, okay?”  

“Okay!”  

“Good. Ah, don’t overeat. There’s going to be more delicious food at the celebration. We wouldn’t want our youngest employee to be sick.”  

“That's right!”  

“Good.”  

The topic turned to the future, but it didn’t last long because it was soon time to leave. Cleaning up was quick--thanks to our rings. Olga slumbered in Merka’s arms as the carriages returned to the city.   

*****

---

*****

The ride was mostly uneventful. Percival rode with Momo, me, and Itarr, and Carrie traveled with Fisher, Albert, Olga, and Merka.   

We talked about the orphanage, but we arrived before we knew it. Nimyra, who sat on the couch with a book, welcomed us back with a fond smile. 

"A client left a gift on the table," she said, pointing to a stack of cookies. "They're wonderfully delicious." 

Olga, however, was too exhausted. She could barely open her eyes, so Merka took her to bed. We honestly weren't too far behind. Percival took to his favorite couch as Momo devoured a cookie or four. 

"You know there's a free bedroom,” said Nimyra. “Why not take it?”  

“A gentleman should seen and not felt.”  

“I don’t think that’s the right saying. A gentleman would accept his host’s generosity. He'd take the room she prepared for him.”  

“Hmm…”  

“Oh, Ni-Ni?” Momo grinned. Her tail flashed like a mischievous fox.   

“Yes?”  

“Percival—”  

“Well, you’re right. I apologize.” The bodyguard changed his tune as he stood up like a rocket. “Oh, how unbecoming have I been to overlook something so obvious?” stammered Percival.    

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Are you okay? Did you eat--”  

“Oh, look at the time. It’s getting late. I must be at the duchess’s estate by early morning. Please excuse me, ladies. I wish you all a pleasant goodnight.” Percival walked down the hall. “It is this room, yes?”  

“Umm, yes. It is.”  

“Ah!” He lightly clapped. “I’m glad I didn’t get lost. Anyway, may your dreams be fruitful and full of…fruit. Goodnight!” The door quietly shut. Ni-Ni seemed…confused.    

Okay. Now I know he’s just playing it up. But why? What does he get out of it? 

“It’s an inside joke. Don’t worry about it,” I said.   

“If you say so.” The elf’s smile was genuinely pretty. She sleepily yawned, though, rubbing her exhausted eyes. We said our goodnights, except it wasn’t goodbye because the ring bearers met in the soul world.   

“So… What’s the plan? Training? Want to mess with geomancy?” asked Momo.   

“We could, but why not take a break? We’ve been training hard every night. I don’t think our minds have properly processed our growths. Besides, your grampy said sleeping is the best way for that to happen." 

“You remembered that?”  

“Yep. It’s sage advice from a wise man, so why wouldn’t I?”  

“Servy…” Momo’s precious smile lit my world. “Okay, then. Let’s take it easy. Itarr?”  

“I feel like I’m close to another breakthrough, so… No. Verta, you taught me creative flames cannot be forced. They must be allowed to organically grow."  

"Yes. That’s what you once told us,” replied the Goddess of Family and Love.  

Albert wanted to prepare for tomorrow by having everything ready, which meant figuring out which spices to use and what utensils to prepare. Fisher said he felt like going for a midnight walk, so he bid us goodnight before returning to his body.    

“That leaves us… Wanna hit the bath?" 

No one objected to Momo’s idea, and we started walking towards Itarr’s tower.