Unearth The Shadows

25

Lorina Her Golan| 39th day of Sprout season

Lorina Her Golan- the owner of three edifices in the second borough, one in the seventh, and three maternities spread across the city of Ceres- stood at the threshold of the wide door of one of the said maternities. The one in the fourth borough, which had become a liability for the Golan heirs during the last two years. More and more grasshoppers from the lower classes migrated from the poorer boroughs to the area.

Her sister Pehna had predicted that, of course, and from the share of the heritage of the money her late father had earned as a mining chief in the northern border, she had chosen one edifice only in the prestigious first borough. Lorina, impressed by the sheer number of properties had taken all the rest. The maternities, the edifices, all of it, choosing daftly to believe the Green Guard would keep the area clean of the poorest. How wrong was she? As a result, she had to sell all of it. In hopes to gather money enough to buy an edifice in the first borough that could match her sisters- now that the prices were the value of a whale's wing.

"They're awfully late, your buyers," said Pol darling, in his deep voice, so certain, the most certain voice her ears had ever had the pleasure to hear.

A middle-class man that had the manners of a full noble. Lorina wondered if he wasn't the lost son of a noble family. He'd originally been her butler when she welcomed him in her house, two weeks ago. Turns out, he had other talents. In bed- he loved her like she was as young as he was. Her marriage with Morican had been so lust-starved that she had forgotten the feeling of the weight of a man. She would probably- surely!-have him in her bed as soon as the selling of the maternity house was over, that's another two solar arcs until Morican arrived home. She was safe, she was free, and she was loved.

On top of that, Pol was the one to advise Lorina to get rid of the maternities. Now she wondered how she had been able to carry such a burden for a long time. Of course, she couldn't count on Morican and his long days of work at the borough's administration for that kind of insight.

Lorina didn't answer Pol's question. She reached for his hands and squeezed them. Her gaze scanned left and right. Silly of her. She didn't care in reality. None of these simple-blooded knew her. She was a free woman and would do as she pleased. Pol seemed too tense at her touch, however. "Is all right, darling?"

"Of course." He patted the back of her hand, she expected a kiss atop her head. Morican could never manage that, being so short. Then again, these youth of Tor Lomeon's time seemed to achieve the full height of a man at the age of fifteen. Lorina wondered what it would be like in the times of the next Monarch; there'd be giants walking down these very Ancient-blessed roads.

Her head kiss never came, alas. But Pol was right to be a bit discreet, of course. She let go entirely of his hands. And she was glad she did so, a distinctly noble chariot rounded the corner of the nearest intersection. Two black horses pulled a square carriage heavy with silver ornamentations.