Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 145: Chatting with in-laws

“…Good morrow, pani Alena.” – I offer quietly. It’s kinda early in the morning. Like, really early. The rooster cry kinda early. I normally don’t poke around this early, but this is an unknown locale, I wanna make sure I get the bearings. And set up some early warning and surprises. Just in case. Feeling like being a little bit justifiably paranoid after the debacle in Nornburg.   “Good morning.” – she answers cautiously. A visit to the well, I imagine, given the pair of buckets on the carrying yoke. I pluck the thing off her shoulder as I pass by. Might as well be a gentle…being. The thought of being a gentleman is kinda disconcerting, and gentlewoman just sounds tacky… Oh, fiddlesticks. This sounds kinda chuuni now that I think about it…   “Please, this is not…” – aaand apparently Alena is not exactly comfortable with me taking over her chores… Scratch that, definitely NOT comfortable, given how she yelps and rushes forward to stop me when I chuck the buckets down the well. I guess I was supposed to hook them up to the rope first? Her expression is hilariously complicated when the full buckets heave themselves out of the well a moment later. Telekinesis is very convenient, yes. The expression gets even more complicated when a glob of water oozes out of the well immediately after. The buckets are pretty sizeable, say about twenty liters a piece. The glob of water weighs exactly a ton. In fact, I shape it into the perfect cubic meter as soon as it clears the well. That should be sufficient to refill the water tank on the ship and to make sure everything in the actual house gets sufficient water.   “I think we’re good on water, yah?” – I offer, as I turn around, the buckets and the watery cube following me sedately mid-air….Uuh, I think I’m reaching the limits on how complicated the expression can get. That mix of apprehensiveness, exasperation, worry, relief and puzzlement is hard to beat.   “Better get used to it.” – I suggest blithely – “I’ve never been particularly good with being normal.”   She does not seem to have anything to say at the moment. At least nothing she feels confident saying, I guess. If I were to guess by her expression, there are LOTS of things she sorta wants to say… if only I was more… critique-accessible, I guess. As it is, she is… not so much as content as much as resigned to simply following me on the trek back to their home. The backyard at their place had enough spare space for me to construct a docking tower for the zeppelin. Not big enough to just land properly, Taras is a big shot, but not THAT big. But enough space for me to put down the tower with the ramp to access the front doors and the secondary mooring mast across the yard to have a second tie-up somewhere in the middle of the dirigible. Distance enough for me to be confident it would stay moored at normal conditions.   “Feeling apprehensive, aren’t you?” – I comment in the ensuing silence – “Yeah, I think I maybe understand your viewpoint. Maybe. Sorta. In an academic sort of sense. Sorry to say, but I don’t think Roxolane will ever get the normal again. Great, sure. Normal, eeeh, not so likely.”   Yep, I think I estimated right. Or at least in the ballpark, if the expressions are of any indication. Or I might be horribly misreading it all, of course. I’m prone to that at times. People are complicated. Still, well… Family is important enough that trying to work it out, complicated and irrational it may be, is still a better option compared to sitting around doing nothing and letting complications amass and fester. I can not count the number of relationships doomed from the start simply because people involved did not think it worth the effort to communicate. A particularly common malady among the so-called star-crossed lovers. Seriously, family is a huge investment of personal time, effort, and well.. giving a damn about it. Just sitting back and reassuring yourself that love conquers all is abominably stupid and results in predictable consequences. Sasuga.   “One thing I can assure you of, though…” – I continue thoughtfully – “No one will take Roxolane from me. No one. Period. I don’t particularly hide the fact that I’m rather possessive, of course. Better people know exactly where they stand with me on those questions. Still, it does help to put it in specific words sometimes. Words like, I will set people on fire if they ever so much as look crookedly at my wives.”   I smile at her lightly. It’s one of those “not really a smile so much as a polite impression of thereof” kinda smiles – “That being said, I do fully recognize and accept the rights of my wives themselves to divest them of my presence in their life if they so wish. But I will thoroughly investigate and scrutinize any such notions before acceding, especially so if they are voiced out of the blue. I do believe that outlines the acceptable borders of our relationship insofar as other people are concerned, ne?”   Mothers often do have a rather unduly major amount of influence in the lives of their children, even when those children are well past the age of childhood. The last thing I want is for Alena’s traditionalist sensibilities to crop up in some unexpected manner and sour things between me and Roxolane. And yes, I do include the possibility of Roxolane falling out with her mother as “souring things” between us, if it happens because of me. Clearly outlining that yes, I WILL examine any external influence, and yes, I will visit unspeakable violence on anyone stupid enough to interfere should both reassure and warn Alena off from saying something unfortunate to Roxolane. After all, being fiercely protective of one’s own spouse IS a very traditional stance to take in Krainian culture.   ___   “Pani Gillespie, I would like a word with you.” – Taras is politely insistent. Wonder what’s up. Did I push too hard with Alena after all? Or it is something else?   “Sure. What’s on your mind?” – I respond to him. It’s later morning, everyone had the breakfast (although Alena protested quite a lot, I did manage to put in on this – not everything, because trying to cook instead of her in her own home would be seen rather insulting, but contributing some “foreign” delicacies is both sensible and nice, to my consideration) and things are being slow. Roxolane is entertaining her brothers, who until now had shown considerable restraint I honestly didn’t expect out of preteens. Yet, finding out their sister is now “a proper witch” proved to be the last drop that burst the dam, and they all but demanded stories of her adventures in Parsee. Moon Unit had taken the rest of my family out for a walk in the woods. I’m guessing Taras asked her beforehand to clear out the distractions, as it were, because I initially assumed she would go alone or take Bridgit along just in case there is a need to abscond quickly. Inviting Lily-Anne and Cy as well was a surprise. She invited Katherine as well, but Kathy instead opted to catch up on some sleep in the dirigible. I might need to look into it, Katherine averages fourteen hours of sleep per day throughout our whole journey. I made initial allowances for her catching up on missed sleep during the whole debacle in the Nornburg, but that should be all cleared out by now.   “I believe you’ve mentioned before you are willing to properly marry Roxolane, right?” – he begins… and it’s a non-issue. Heh.   “Sure, sure. Throw the feast, exchange the flower crowns, say something vow-like?” – I retort – “Yeah, well… Any time, really. I’ll bring in some delicacies from Champagne and Kraut, you invite everyone who you think has any business to be present, give everyone a bit of time for preparation, I think? Next week, maybe? Or do you think the guests will need more time to get here? Yeah, by the way, don’t concern yourself about the costs, invite everyone you think is even remotely relevant. I’ll build a new feast hall if necessary.”   “Ah… Um. Yes, well.” – he hems – “I was considering in a month… Week seems way too short for all the preparations.”   “Pan Taras, don’t worry about preparations. Your only concern is to let everyone know where the food will be.” – I reassure him – “Look, I’ll go with you and throw together some venue. That burnt ruin on the edge looks pretty good, I’ll just yank the old timbers out, smooth the ground out and toss up a pavilion on top of it. Ought to be good.”   ___   It took a bit more fast-talking, but my performance yesterday had impressed Taras enough to get him into a cautiously agreeable mood. So right now, he and a couple other old men are watching me yanking up the remains of a barn that was burned some time ago. I imagine about two years or so. Maybe less, but definitely not more. Come to think of it, it was probably burned during the same raid that saw Roxolane captured. There is a surprising amount of good lumber under the char, though. Hrm. Why not? Reuse and recycle is my jam. The elders are notably surprised when the char strips off the logs with a grating sound. They are even more surprised when some of the logs split down the middle, while others divide into stumps. A little bit of magical grinding and cutting later, and I drop a bunch of benches next to the old men, sticking them in the ground as the permanent installations. Ground smoothing follows. There was a lot of stone in the foundations of the barn, it was apparently built to last or maybe it was converted from an older house or something. Anyway, the stone is now a layer of pavement, though I do have to supplement it by teleporting additional stone from the warehouses. Now… Good timber. There is a bunch of that back in the Everfree, Dweezil was cautiously overjoyed when he found out that I can and will clear out all the excess trees and wood from their glades. Apparently, elves consider actual logging to be a chore comparable to butchering meat – something low-key necessary, yet messy and disgusting. Thankfully, they aren’t viewing carpentry and carving with the same disdain. It’s the living trees that give them the trouble.   I briefly consider the dimensions and settle on an oblong octagon design. Half of it will be an actual walled pavilion, half will be just covered and half-walled, gazebo-style. Should be enough space for, hm… This should fit four tables, the narrowing section in the back will do as the serving area, the tables would be good for, hm… If we assume about one touse per three people… Then the tables should be good, for uh… sixty-six people apiece. So that gives us about two hundred and fifty seating places. I’m intentionally rounding down to accommodate for cases where more space is needed for one reason or another.   “Sooo… That should be enough for two hundred and fifty people.” – I muse out loud – “Think this would suffice, pan Taras, or should I add extra accommodations?” Technically speaking, I can easily go twice that simply by raising up the inner division to expand the eating area to the whole of the coverage, but overpreparing is not really good in that case. It would look awkward if I toss up a big venue and it will end up looking like I expected way more people to show up than the actual attendance.   He looks a bit discombobulated. “Beg your pardon, two hundred and fifty?” – he repeats after me – “Is it customary in Champagne to lay at the table?”   I blink at him. “…Uh, no?” – I then suggest – “I presumed one touse per three people to give some elbow room and whatnot…”   He shakes his head. Says something quietly to his fellows. Then he and two of them come and sit on one of the benches. Which is about a touse long. “Like this, pani?” – he asks, and I nod, feeling a bit befuddled. What is he getting at?   What he IS getting at, apparently, is that the normal seating they expect is WAY denser, because the next thing I see is seven men on the same bench, with Taras in the middle. “This is what we would expect at the feast, pani.” – he offers – “And only a sotnik’s wedding or higher. Regular person does not really have unlimited benches, you know?”   The way he says it makes me feel like I just did “Unlimited Bench Works” with appropriately cringey poses and posturing. Still…   “Yeah, well…” – I hedge – “Pan Taras, I think it would be easier for you if you just assume my wedding standards are at the level “hetman getting married”. And if it’s not enough, simply remind yourself that I’m personally acquainted and friendly with several royal families – both past and present.” It is not an exaggeration either. Some of the Champagne nobles, including both Gillespies and Bradfords were at some point kings of their own fiefs back before Albic Dominion steamrolled over the whole place. Until that conquest, Champagne existed in much the same state of feudal disarray as contemporary Kraut and Confederacy, with but a fig leaf of “technically vassals of Champagna”. So, yeah. My pedigree is as blueblooded as one can get without sitting on the throne personally.   Judging by the dubious looks of the elders, I’m not quite nailing it… But at the same time, I am apparently scary enough for them to keep any gainsaying to themselves. I sigh.   “Look. I’m pretty sure I showed off enough for everyone to at least entertain the notion that I can pull off everything I boast of and double down on it if needed.” – I offer with exasperation – “What’s the problem?”   After some meaningful looks being exchanged, the oldest guy manages – “You don’t act like high and mighty noble, that’s all.”   I raise my brow at them – “Would you prefer I did? Tell you to your face that you stink and that the sight of poverty offends me? I do try to keep my lying at a minimum, you know?”   They seem to be unsure how to take it. I’m hoping more positive than not, but I did run into situations where not being haughty and offensive enough got people thinking I’m an easy mark for a scam or robbery before in Parsee. Not lately, tho, I guess the word spread.   I sigh again. “Yes, there are nobles out there who think being rude to commoners is how they maintain their nobility. Yes, common people usually think of THEM when they think of nobles, and it’s for a reason – because jackasses are way more memorable then polite people. You would pass by ten people telling you good morning at the fair and not pay a whit of mind to it, but you will remember that one jackass who suddenly told you to go fuck yourself out of the blue. I assure you, however – we nobles DO consider those exemplars to be jackasses just like you people do.” – I assert with some asperity – “Honestly, treat me as politely as you would treat someone wealthy and educated, and don’t think too much about all the courtly rituals and posturing. I can’t stand them myself, frankly speaking.”   “..But what about you turning into dragon yesterday, pani?” – the youngest of them (and probably the most hotheaded, heh) pipes up suddenly.   “What about it?” – I riposte – “I do that when I’m irritated. It does not mean anything specific, I just frown very expressively.”   Aaand we have reached the borders of comprehension, if the looks I get back are of any indication.   “No, I’m not doing it by intent.” – I assert – “It just happens when I get annoyed. I heard someone calling Roxolane “dinky” and I got mad at them, that’s all there is to it. I’m not going to actually turn into a dragon completely for any reason, they’re kinda stupid and hungry all the time. I would use much more convenient forms for actual violence if I feel so inclined.”   The looks remain gobsmacked. It’s gonna be a while, I guess…