Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Samwell Gotch looked out over the funeral attendees. His brothers were in the front row, in various stages of crying or shock. Various business partners of both Father and Grandfather sat gravely, all in black. Ouroboros Codswallop sat to the side, his black silk hat in his lap.

He tried not to look at the more colorful bunch in the back.

He certainly did not look at the two coffins behind him.

He’d only been seven years old at Mother’s funeral and his whole world had cracked apart. Now at seventeen, the pieces he’d patched together had shattered and there was no one else to lean on.

But he was used to having a lot of responsibility, and he wouldn’t buckle under the weight of the entire Gotch family now. And he was just going to ignore the warring grief and relief that were tearing him apart. …And everything that was about to crash down on him, on just him. Right now he had to speak, and that was all he was going to focus on.

“Thank you all…” His voice creaked and he cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming to honor… our father and our grandfather. They were… were devoted to the legacy of the Gotch family… always thinking only of… of the advancement of… the family and of society.” He swallowed thickly. He’d struggled to write this speech, and knew it was inadequate. He hadn’t even managed a basic five-paragraph essay, but this was the fifth attempt and the only one both true and appropriate. It was a hard line to walk. “I know… Looking out today I know people from many different backgrounds are here to… show their love for… these two gr-great men. They were family, they were investors, they were innovators. I know it would mean a lot if they knew so many people had gathered to… to celebrate their lives.”

He paused to look down. Maxwell and Hatwell were both crying. Wealwell had switched seats with Johnwell to hug Maxwell. Blanewell was trying to hug Hatwell, who didn’t acknowledge him. Roywell was staring straight forward, expressionless. Johnwell was hunched up, blinking hard. Everyone else looked solemn. Serious.

The only other people crying were a couple of people far in the back. Samwell knew Comfrey Macleod on sight, and saw her wipe her eyes as she leaned over and whispered to the older man next to her. A younger man in a leather coat was crying, as well as a rather sinister-looking man. The rest of them looked grim, aside from a girl not much older than him who looked a little bored.

How dare she. He inhaled to yell at her to get out if she couldn’t give his family the respect they deserved, then swallowed his breath and looked back down. He wouldn’t make a scene. He had to be reasonable. He wouldn’t ruin this day and embarrass himself and the whole Gotch family. They might have that luxury, but he didn’t. He continued stiffly.

“Our grandfather was a visionary and an innovator. He put our name in the sky and gave… gave wings to people who would never be able to fly on their own,” he said sharply. “He inspired so many because he truly believed in the goodness of people. He believed we could advance society to improve life for everyone, and to learn more about the world.” Maxwell was sobbing now, and Wealwell was quietly crying into his hair, messing up his perfect center part.

He paused, voice lowering a little. “Our father believed in tradition. He saw himself as the rock that would hold our family in place, that we could build our future upon. He had a vision of his own, and took great pride in bringing the family into the present day.” Hatwell suddenly turned and grabbed onto Blanewell, banging his head into his brother’s side. Blanewell flinched and clamped his mouth shut.

“When the Gotch skyship was crushed over Scrapsylvanian skies by a freak shower of rusty metal, we didn’t know how we would be able to go on. But we all have to. And the Gotch family will stand together and find a way to be strong despite… despite this terrible tragedy. So… thank you for joining us today as we say farewell to two… great men.” He stepped away from the podium and went back to sit next to Roywell, his footsteps echoing through the otherwise silent hall. Roy nudged him with his elbow, and he nudged back. A few other people spoke, but the boys sat huddled together, hardly listening.

When the service concluded everyone came up to offer their condolences. The older three thanked them all quietly while the younger ones stared up hollowly or wiped at their damp faces. Samwell kept an arm around Wealwell, who he knew would be feeling as sick as he was. He shook hands, he gravely thanked their relatives and business partners. All of them offered to be there if the boys needed anything. Of course most of them didn’t live nearby, and they had businesses of their own to run, Samwell knew. But anything they needed, they said, just ask.

“And I’m sure you’ll go to live with your relatives,” said old Lord Greypace.

“Ah – well I’ll be eighteen in a few months,” Samwell said, squeezing Wealwell. “We… we’re all still in school. I… I might have to take some time off to handle things, but I’ll manage. The house staff does a good job, and Father had been teaching me about the family finances. Our financial advisor will help out, I’m sure.” The lord frowned, so Samwell forced a smile and looked away from the yawning abyss. “…But you’re right, we have plenty of relatives. If we need help, we can always go to them.”

Ouroboros Codswallop hadn’t come up yet. He’d been speaking to Comfrey Macleod and her band of rowdies at the back of the hall for quite some time. It didn’t feel right to be going after financial pursuits at a funeral service, but he knew the Wind Riders were difficult to pin down. Father had complained about it enough.

“Terribly sorry, children,” Mr. Codswallop said when he did eventually plod over. “A tragic day indeed. I am so sorry for this tremendous loss. I shall, of course, be helping see you through these… difficult days to come, in any way I can.”

“Thank you.” Samwell thought he really might throw up now.

“Ah…” Codswallop looked around. “Young Master Samwell, I wonder if we might have a word about that.”

“Of course.” Samwell’s stomach churned, but at least something was happening. At least he could get down to business now and start dealing with this… with all of this. “Roy, will you –“

“I’ve got it,” Roywell said. He was just fifteen, but the others usually listened to him. They would right now, at least. Samwell nodded gratefully and followed Codswallop into an antechamber.

“How are you today, young Samwell?”

Samwell stared at him. “…I’m fine.” He’d never had to talk to Codswallop alone, only with Father.

“Wonderful. Now, I didn’t want to discuss this with the younger ones, but it’s important that you understand. You’re aware, I’m sure, that your father named Lord Cadswitch as your legal guardian, should the worst befall him.”

Samwell nodded. “…Until I’m of age, and then it’s me.”

“Correct. Ah – your birthday is in September, yes?”

“September seventh. Just three months away.” Samwell straightened up. “I’m sure we can find a way around that, can’t we? For such a short time?”

“I’m afraid not.” Codswallop looked grim. “I’ve checked the laws tip to top, top to bottom, and they are all very firm.”

“That’s ridiculous, everyone’s going back to school at the end of the summer anyway. I – I always take care of them anyway, and Father taught me everything I needed, I’m old enough!” Samwell could hear his voice rising and fought to keep it low.

“I understand this is troubling.” Codswallop nodded sympathetically. “So I pursued Lord Cadswitch’s will. Of course you’ll all have an inheritance from him, that’s been secured, so you don’t have to worry.”

Samwell stared blankly.

“As to legal guardianship, though… Well the wording of the will was a bit confusing.”

“…So you can work something out. Will we… go to one of our uncles for a few months? We could spend the summer out of town and –“

“If only it were that simple,” Codswallop sighed. “You see, your father… I’m afraid he didn’t get on with his brothers and cousins. Didn’t agree with their life choices or financial decisions. He did not believe they would be good influences on his own sons. I’m sure you didn’t spend much time with them.”

“No… No, but they’re family.”

“Yes. And your father was very clear in his will that his sons would never be influenced by or indebted to the rest of the family for any reason. He quite plainly did not approve of them. He only named Lord Cadswitch your legal guardian because he knew it was wise to have one. I’m afraid he never anticipated his untimely demise, or his father’s.”

Samwell flinched. “Then what… what are you saying? What’s going to happen to us?”

“Well that… is the confusing part. The, ah… well it’s… stated explicitly, it’s just… quite strange. Eccentric, excuse me.” He cleared his throat and pulled out a document to show Samwell. “You see here… Now this is your father’s will, this is the portion I’m speaking of.” He paused to let Samwell read it himself, then took another paper and put it in front. “And here is your grandfather’s. Right here, it states that any minors in his charge, in the event of his death, will be given into the care of Comfrey Macleod and the Wind Riders. …And then you see here, this last bit that was added in later that all legal decisions will fall to… a Mr. Daisuke Bucklesby.”

“That… that can’t be real. That can’t be legal!”

“I had the same thought, but I had a chat with Verity Wiswold, your grandfather’s financial advisor.” He nodded to an elderly woman walking up to pay her respects to the bodies. “You’ll note her initials there, at the addition. She said Lord Cadswitch was in a clear state of mind and insisted that this all be specified.”

“But… but… But they’re not family!” Samwell said desperately, mind racing. “They can’t – I mean surely in these circumstances we can just… spend the summer with Uncle Wrightspot and –“

Codswallop was shaking his head. “I truly wish you could, young Master Samwell. Regrettably the documents are airtight.”

Samwell stared at him.

“But as you say, it is only three months. We can all look forward to you turning eighteen and taking the reins, so to speak.” He chuckled dryly.

“I… I… You have to do something about this,” Samwell hissed, glancing over at his brothers. Maxwell was already straying away from Roywell, and Wealwell had thrown up. “We can’t possibly…”

“I do apologize. I will continue looking, but I’m afraid this is how it must be for a short time.”

Samwell looked up suddenly. “What about – my marriage arrangement. To Rowena Goldstone, her family’s doing well, I hear! What if… what if we moved that up to… to right now, immediately, we could get married now and the family could take in my brothers.”

Codswallop rubbed his chin. “Well… I can certainly make inquiries if that’s what you want –“

“Yes,” Samwell said instantly. “Yes, please do. Tell them it has to be as fast as possible.”

“Very well, I will make a note and contact the Goldstone family as soon as I return to the office.”

“…Today?” Samwell begged.

“Monday, I’m afraid. …But I will be sure it’s the first thing I do when I get in the door.”

“Thank you.” The boy’s shoulders slumped and he wished he could just let his knees buckle and lie on the floor.

“But regardless, I will be in contact.” The old man leaned in close. “Samwell. These people are not family. They are not… shall we say… ‘your kind of people.’ These are ruffians. Rowdies. Criminals.”

“You’re leaving us with criminals!?” Samwell choked.

“Well, the legalities,” Codswallop muttered, waving a hand vaguely. “Just remember this. I did some research, to prepare us both. Macleod owes your family – owes you debts that have not been collected. And she is still currently borrowing money for her expeditions. Daisuke Bucklesby is the most wanted criminal in Pilby, a bandit of the worst kind. Onion St. Clay is well-known in the financial world for being a master of fraud, no self-respecting accounting firm would hire him. Haunch Saxon has been charged with drunk and disorderly conduct numerous times, and is equally unemployable. Vanellope Chapman is a pirate through and through. Sylvio Dufresne has been taken into police custody countless times for questioning, and somehow always manages to evade a sentence. Marya Junkova is a runaway urchin from Scrapsylvania, which tells you all anyone needs to know.” He paused. “And Montgomery LaMontgommery is… a children’s book author.” He frowned uncertainly.

“That’s… that’s Maxwell’s favorite author,” Samwell mumbled, staring off into space.

“Ah, well that is a bit of good fortune for young Maxwell.” Codswallop smiled. “But be wary that he does not sway your impressionable young brother away from his loyalty to his family.”

“No one’s swaying Maxwell away from our family,” Samwell snapped, still fighting to process everything.

“And remember, you are the head of this branch of the Gotch family now. …Or will be, in three months. You will be making the decisions. And I work for you. I swear I’ll do everything in my power to help.”

“Thank you.” His voice cracked and he looked down in shame. Codswallop patted his shoulder awkwardly and ambled away. He stood there for a moment, just trying to breathe before walking back to his brothers.

“What’s up?” Blanewell asked.

“We… there’s a problem with the wills,” he muttered as the very ragtag band he dreaded walked up to them.

“Well now, Longspot’s whole brood,” Comfrey said, smiling down at them. “Ah, there’s Max, Cadswitch always loved you. Feet still on the ground, huh kid? For now?”

Maxwell looked down, shutting his eyes tightly. The others looked uncomfortable.

“Well! S’pose you’ve all heard the news. We’re gonna be going back to… back home to…” She trailed off and shook her head.

“Babysit,” Daisuke suggested.

“We’ll be looking out for you children until you go back to school at least,” Montgommery spoke up, smiling. Maxwell looked up, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be that long,” Samwell said icily. “I’m working on a better solution for all of us.”

“You the oldest?” Comfrey asked. “Can’t keep ‘em straight, you’re all too close together. Sam, was it?”

“I am Samwell Gotch, and I am the head of the Gotch Family,” Samwell growled. “You will show me the respect I deserve.”

“Oh, I’ll show you all the respect I showed your dad, with that attitude.” Comfrey laughed.

“All right kiddos, this ain’t forever, might as well make the best of it, right?” Vanellope said. “This is Comfrey, Daisuke, Monty, Marya, Onion, Sylvio, and Haunch, and I’m Van. What are your names?” She looked expectantly.

Samwell glared at her. “Samwell. Roywell. Blanewell. Hatwell. Wealwell. Johnwell. Maxwell. In that order. Don’t feel like you need to learn them, we certainly won’t make the effort to learn yours.”

“Okay.” Van laughed, unbothered. “Well, Wells, things are gonna be a little different for all of us this summer, aren’t they? But we’ll get by. Because none of us got a choice in this. You don’t want us poking into your lives, and I assure you the feeling is mutual. But here we are, my lads.”

“We’re not your lads,” Hatwell growled.

“Figure of speech, I call the crew my lads too.” She waved it off. “So… you take all the time you need here. I sympathize, I do. Me own dad passed away when I was just a girl and I was lost. So you take your time here. When you’re ready we’ll go back and get settled. I’m sure there’s plenty of room for us to camp out for a while. We’ll make do, right?” She turned to the crew, who nodded with varying degrees of reluctance.

They stayed until everyone else left, just to get more time before they had to go home, but before long Van ushered them out to the Zephyr. It was cramped onboard, but the boys stayed huddled together though Maxwell at least was distracted by looking up at the balloons. They landed outside the manor. By the time they disembarked, Samwell managed to collect himself a bit.

“Just… just remember, this is our house,” he said, trying to extend his voice the way Van had. It sounded terribly small. “You’re… barely even guests. Don’t touch anything, don’t take anything, don’t break anything. It all belongs to the Gotch family. Not to you.”

“You got it, lad,” said Marya with a sharp grin. She bounded down the gangplank while Samwell seethed.

“All right, that’s enough of that,” Haunch muttered, glaring around. “This place is ridiculous.”

“Your ship is ridiculous,” Roywell called.

“Your face is ridiculous!” called Marya from far ahead.

“You’re all being ridiculous,” Van boomed. “That’s enough. Everybody inside. We’ll rustle up some food –“

“Dinner is served at six,” Samwell said crisply.

“Served?” Daisuke chuckled.

“Yes. Served. …Though the staff weren’t expecting a whole hoard, so there may not be enough for you.” He smirked.

“Fine by me.” He pulled out his rifle. “Sylvio, wanna check around, see if we can find any varmints for a stew?”

Sylvio chuckled darkly. “Oh, I would love nothing better than to go out… hunting with you, Daisuke.”

“Just get us some dinner,” Comfrey muttered, looking around at the perfect gravel drive and the neatly-trimmed topiaries. The sky felt farther away already.

Chapter Text

Dinner was terrible. It was much worse because of the eight interlopers at their table. Comfrey Macleod brought her steaming bowl of squirrel stew to sit in Father’s seat at the head of the table. The younger six brothers stared at her, then turned as one to look at Samwell.

He took a deep breath. He was so tired.

“That’s Father’s seat.”

She looked around. “Sorry, didn’t realize he was using it.”

“Um.” Daisuke cleared his throat, reaching out to her. “Maybe you could sit by me tonight, darlin’. You’re way over there outta my reach.”

She looked up sharply and Samwell caught the way her hard eyes softened.

“Well you know I’d rather keep you within arm’s reach.” She stood up and brought her bowl of stew over to sit beside him. Samwell exhaled silently.

When they were finished, Samwell stood up. “We’ve all had a long day. I think we’ll go to bed early.”

“You need anything –“ Onion began.

“No thank you,” Samwell said briskly. “Come on,” he commanded his brothers, and they all quickly followed him.

The Wind Riders looked around at each other.

“Gonna be a long summer,” Daisuke muttered.

“Just give ‘em some time,” Van said. “They just lost their dad and grandad.”

“Their dad was a real piece of work,” Comfrey said. “I’m not saying it’s their fault. It’s how he raised ‘em. And maybe one or two of the younger ones could grow outta that. But you can bet your ass that whatever he did as a businessman, he was no saint as a father either.”

The others looked around uncomfortably.

“Certainly,” Sylvio said smoothly. “But Comfrey, their whole life has just clattered down around their ears.”

“And they lost Cadswitch too,” Monty murmured.

Comfrey sighed. “…You’re right. You’re right. It’s just three months. And if the oldest thinks he can make our sentence shorter, more power to him.” Her fingers clutched at her trouser legs, already itching to move. “Can’t say I’m too happy with old Cadswitch right now… He never mentioned this to any of us…”

“Uh…”

The table turned as one to Daisuke, who was sopping up the last of his stew with a piece of bread.

“You know somethin’ about this, Daisuke?” Onion asked quietly.

“Well… Ol’ Cadswitch was a… a fun guy, right? Before the Zephyr launched last year, when we were just sittin’ around Eisengeist, me and him used to sit down for a hand of poker every now and then. Or five card draw. Or go fish. Sometimes we’d go to the dog races. Or –“

“You played lots of games,” Van cut in. “Get to the point.”

“Yeah, well we liked to make wagers, only… money was easier for him than for me.” Daisuke shrugged and took a sip from his flask. “So we would make things more interesting. And one night we were out on the town, havin’ a good time, and I say to him, if your bug wins this fight you get my firstborn child.”

“Whoa!” Comfrey laughed.

He shrugged. “Who knows where that is. But then he says, okay, if I wins, I get his firstborn child. …And I said no way, I don’t want that turd.”

“Fair,” Haunch muttered while Marya laughed.

“So he says fine, all his firstborn’s children. …And I mighta had a few too many drinks at that point – he said it real funny, don’t remember what he said. Anyway, it sounded like a hell of a laugh at the time.”

“You didn’t,” Van breathed.

Daisuke shrugged, looking down at his empty bowl. “…So yeah, I mighta got us all writ into his will.”

“Daisuke,” Comfrey groaned, slapping her face. “You know I love you, but –“

“Won all those kids in a beetle fight.” He nodded. “…I thought it was over but he showed up the next day with his lawyer sayin’ a deal’s a deal, and a Gotch don’t take back his word.”

“Did you try?” Sylvio asked.

“Well he showed me they weren’t even his to give, because they were Longspot’s obviously, so it would just be if both him and Longspot died before at least one of ‘em was old enough. Seemed pretty unlikely to me with the oldest already sixteen. Just a little joke we shared.” He scratched his nose. “…We laughed. At the time.”

“Daisuke?” Comfrey said quietly.

“Mm?”

“Paperwork privileges revoked from now on.”

“…Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Monty walked upstairs later, silently past seven bedrooms with doors shut tight. He listened as he walked, and smelled, and looked under the doors. Some of the windows seemed to be open a little. He smelled fresh linens, because the staff worked hard, and adolescents’ sweat, which had a slightly different tang than that of adults. There were little noises here and there. A flipping page, a soft sigh, the rustle of bedsheets.

“They’re in their rooms for the night,” Monty murmured when he soundlessly returned to his friends.

They were not in their rooms for the night.

“This can’t be legal!” Roywell complained, his voice rising.

They were all huddled in a nook in the library, having carefully piled pillows under their blankets and played a looping recording of sleeping noises in their rooms. Their ancestors who had built the house had put in narrow passageways for servants, or to escape their enemies, and the boys had all used them growing up. Father had locked his own bedroom and office, but much of the house was accessible.

“Unfortunately it is!” Samwell snapped. “I talked to Mr. Codswallop, there’s nothing we can do. It’s – Father said Grandfather would care for us if anything happened to him. He also said none of the rest of the family should ever care for or influence us, so we… we legally can’t go to them. And I thought since it’s just a few months I could be in charge, or… or at least we could go live with relatives even though Father didn’t want –“

“So we’ve got strangers in charge of us?” Hatwell asked incredulously.

Samwell sighed. “Grandfather’s will said Comfrey Macleod and her crew would… would be… responsible for us. Until I’m eighteen! It’s…” he paused, gritting his teeth hard. “It’s not that long.”

They all looked at each other. It was forever.

“But – okay, but I have a plan. I talked to Codswallop, and he’s going to talk to Rowena Goldstone’s family and see if we can get married… right now. Or as soon as possible. It’s going to happen anyway, our parents have had it planned for years, pretty much since I was born. Then we can stay with her family over the summer and… and then we go back to school at the end and everything will go back to normal.”

“Will you go back to school?” Wealwell asked doubtfully.

“I… I don’t know.” Samwell couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can leave a lot of work to Codswallop, and the staff can take care of the house without oversight for a while, and…” He swallowed. “I… I might have to… work independently at home for a while. I don’t know.”

“If you get to stay home from school, I do too,” Hatwell said immediately. “I can help you with stuff.”

“Hatwell,” Blanewell muttered. “Not right now.”

“Shut up, Blanewell.”

“What are we going to do, Samwell?” Johnwell asked quietly.

Samwell looked around at his brothers. Their eyes were all red and bleary, their faces hollow. Exhausted and confused and afraid. They all looked to him. He swayed and clutched the bookcase. Wind rattled the brittle windows.

“…We make their lives here a living hell.”

Maxwell covered an overtired giggle. Hatwell elbowed him hard.

“They think they can come into our house and just… take over. Into our own home!” He was shaking, his voice was shaking, but he had to keep going. “They can’t do this!”

“You said it’s… it’s the law,” Roywell protested.

“Fuck the law!” Samwell snarled. His brothers stared at him. “We’re going to get rid of them, or we’re going to make life miserable for them every second they stay here. These aren’t… citizens in good standing, these are criminals! Codswallop told me! Every one of them!”

“…Montgomery LaMontgommery is a criminal?” Maxwell asked in a small voice.

Samwell faltered, a lump forming in his throat. “Oh. Um. …Maybe… maybe not him. But the rest of them definitely are. So we’re going to drive them out of our house. Right?”

“Of course, we’re better than them,” Hatwell said, shrugging. “I’ll bet I can kill at least one of them.”

Samwell flinched, because he knew his brother. “Don’t… don’t do anything that would get you thrown in jail. We still need to uphold the Gotch name.”

“So don’t get caught,” Hatwell said, grinning and nodding. “Got it.”

“No. Nobody is… nobody else is dying here.” Samwell swallowed hard and steeled himself. “We don’t have to… we’re not killing anybody. We’re not… hurting them. But we can make them wish they were dead. We can drive them out. …If we can’t get out any other way.”

“But we should get started just in case,” Blanewell suggested, a smile growing on his face. “This’ll be fun.”

Samwell turned to Maxwell. “Max, you don’t have to do anything to Mr. LaMontgommery.”

“But they’re all in the books,” Maxwell mumbled, lips trembling.

“That’s not real, Max,” Hatwell said.

“It’s real, it says it’s based on a true story!” Maxwell protested, his eyes welling up with tears again. “I’ve seen the articles in the paper! I was – we were all on the Zephyr, you saw it too!”

“That means some of it’s true,” Samwell said quickly. “But he wrote the books for kids, so he left out a lot. Maybe… maybe you can ask him about it later. Codswallop told me… they’ve done some bad things. And I trust him. Sorry, Max.” He hugged his youngest brother, who leaned into him and whimpered softly. If they were alone he’d be able to make Maxwell feel better. But he had to make sure everybody was onboard.

Johnwell shuffled a little closer. “Samwell…”

“You don’t have to do anything to Montgomery LaMontgommery either. Nobody has to… Listen, just… We’re not hurting anybody. Got it? Hatwell? And… he probably didn’t do anything wrong. …But the rest of them are fair game. Okay?” He looked around at the others. “And we are not going to stoop to their level and become criminals. So we’ll have to be more creative. Understood?”

The others looked around at each other and nodded.

“Okay.”

“Agreed.”

“Yes, Samwell.”

Wealwell walked up to him slowly and took his hand in two smaller hands. He turned it over palm-up and lowered his face to gently spit the Gotch signet ring into his hand.

“Ewwwwww, Wealwell!” Johnwell groaned.

“How long have you had that in your mouth!?” Roywell exclaimed.

“Where’d you get that?” Maxwell sniffled, looking up.

Samwell closed his fingers around the ring and patted Wealwell’s shoulder with his other hand. “Thank you, Wealwell. That’s exactly the energy we’re going to bring to this.”

“All right you lot, let’s get bedded down for the night,” Van sighed, standing up and stretching. “Plenty of room.”

“Yeah… I think I’m gonna sleep in my own bed, thanks,” Comfrey said, popping her back as she stood. “Captain’s privilege and all that, right? I just can’t see getting any rest in this place. Anybody else?”

The others brightened up. Van glowered.

“Somebody’s gotta stay in the house.” Her lip curled in distaste. “Guess that’s gonna be me. Anybody else?”

The Wind Riders glanced around sheepishly.

“I should, uh… Prob’ly best if I keep my wife happy.” Daisuke winked at her and looked away.

“I’ll stay, Van,” Monty said.

“Sorry Van, I can’t breathe in this place,” Marya said, wrinkling her nose.

“Guess I’ll stay,” Onion grumbled. “But I’m not sleepin’ on the floor.”

“Oh, if there are soft beds and fine linens, I could be talked into staying,” Sylvio said, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m goin’ back to the ship,” Haunch muttered.

“Fine,” said Van. “Great. I’m sure there’s hundreds of guest rooms in this bloody oversized place. We can ask… the staff, I guess.” She made a face.

They found the guest suite and immediately started taking advantage of the huge bathtub. Each took a turn prowling the halls over the course of the night. They didn’t see anything unusual. Van ended up sleeping on a couch in the sitting room just off the foyer, so she could keep an eye on the door.

Van had grown up in a seaside town, on and off all kinds of ships. She knew the creaking of wood, of the wailing wind outside. She could sense the people in her craft. …And what was a house but a moored craft? A poor ship that couldn’t float out into the clear blue beyond… Her crew, the staff off in the far wing, the boys in their bedrooms above… She could taste the grief and resentment and confusion and anger seeping into the ancient woodwork, and not just from the Gotches.

All right, then. Seems her bosun duties didn’t end when she stepped off the Zephyr. Babysitting seven rich kids was already reminding her why she’d never bothered with children before. But she’d do it, and by Gotch these brats would survive until that oldest one could handle everything himself.

Best of luck to him with that, she thought ruefully as she stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes.

“Hope you boys’re feeling better today,” Comfrey said when they crept downstairs late the next morning. “I know we all are.”

“I told the kitchen staff to take the day off. Here, got some hash for ya,” Van said, coming out of the kitchen with a huge smoking skilled of mostly blackened potatoes and ham. “It’ll put hair on yer chest. Good for the teeth.”

The Gotches stared.

“Yesterday was hard,” Montgomery said gently. “We all needed a long rest after that. Let’s start again, shall we?”

Maxwell broke away from the group and walked up to him. “Mr. LaMontgommery? Are… are your books real?”

The Wind Riders chuckled softly.

“Oh! Well that’s a good question. Quite a bit of them really happened! The general plot of each of them is true.”

“But… is everybody the same as they are in the books?” His voice dropped and he looked around shyly at the Wind Riders. Johnwell had drifted over behind him.

“We’re pretty close, I’d say,” Onion said, stroking his chin.

“Heroic and dashing!” Marya said with a grin.

“Some of us more than others,” Sylvio said. He stepped up with a sinister smirk. “Some of us… were not portrayed with 100% accuracy.”

Maxwell stared at him, shrinking back and grabbing Johnwell’s hand.

“He’s right,” Monty chuckled gently. “I tried to make the characters… similar to the real thing. I just softened the edges here and there so they would be more appealing to my younger readers.”

Maxwell and Johnwell’s eyes widened.

“So he did lie about them,” Hatwell said.

“I didn’t so much lie, as I –“

Maxwell turned to Samwell, fire in his eyes. “I’m in,” he said.

Chapter Text

“So, what do you all say we play a game, boys?” Van’s voice boomed too loud. It echoed in a different way than Father’s when he was mad.

The boys looked up at her in a full wave of scorn.

“You want to go for a ride in the Zephyr?” Marya offered. “Pretty cool…”

“We already rode on it,” Blanewell said.

“It was boring,” Roywell added. “It’s just like the courier blimps.”

“Well… it’s a little more advanced than those old things,” Comfrey snorted. “You wanna hear about the friodynamic balloons?”

“No,” Maxwell said coldly.

“What about –“ Onion faltered at the sight of Wealwell raising his hand. “Uh. Yes?”

“Are you a goat?”

The other boys laughed, and so did most of the Wind Riders. Onion frowned.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m going outside,” Wealwell announced cheerfully, and walked away. The Wind Riders stared after him. The boys scattered.

“Ah shit,” Van muttered, rubbing her face.

“They’re not gonna get into too much in their own house, are they?” Haunch muttered, looking around.

“I can’t imagine they’d wander off too far,” Sylvio mused, fingering his mustache. “I’d hate to think of our… dear little darlings… getting lost in the dark woods, or hit by a passing motorcoach…”

“They’re just making trouble, you all know this,” Marya said. “Just being kids! They will come back when they’re hungry or bored. I’m with Haunch on this one.”

“I don’t think we need to worry too much,” Van said slowly, looking around. “I do think it’s time we get our bearings. Maybe split up and look around a bit. Find their hiding spots so we know for later.”

“Split up?” Onion asked uncertainly.

“Good idea,” Comfrey said. “Everybody split up and get out there. Daisuke, you’re with me.”

“You got it.” Daisuke tipped his hat to Van and followed Comfrey out the front door.

“So… are the rest of us pairing up too, or…” Marya took a step closer to Van.

Van sighed. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. Come on, Kid.”

“Shall we?” Sylvio asked Monty.

“Of course.”

Haunch and Onion looked at each other.

“Okay, let’s find some Gotches,” Haunch muttered.

“I can’t breathe in that house,” Comfrey muttered as they walked across the grounds. “It’s like it’s closing in all around me. …Besides, I can still smell Longspot in the woodwork.”

“It’s a lot,” Daisuke agreed.

“And all those kids… I don’t got an ounce of maternal blood in me. Hutch’ll tell you that for sure.” She laughed harshly.

“Yeah… I got up to sowin’ plenty of wild oats myself, but never thought about raisin’ one.”

They walked through the rose garden, looking around.

“Feels all… not even just tame, more like… everything’s all strung up in place where somebody wants it, and it can’t even move,” Daisuke murmured, looking at the neatly manicured hedges. There was a soft rustling behind them and he spun, Biscuits out and cocked at… a twelve-year-old boy with blonde hair. He threw up a little, but then looked up without wiping his face.

“Are you two married?” he asked.

“…Yeah. Sure are.” Comfrey laughed uncomfortably. “You’re… Johnwell?”

“Wealwell.” He offered a limp hand.

Daisuke tucked Biscuits back in its holster as Comfrey stepped up to give his hand a firm shake.

“My, you are… quite a moist boy, aren’t you?”

Wealwell smiled. “I was in the fountain.”

“Oh yeah?” Daisuke asked.

“Do you kill a lot of people?”

Daisuke smiled softly. “Not a whole lot these days, don’t you worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.” Wealwell smiled blissfully. “What’s the youngest person you’ve ever shot?”

“Whoa now,” Comfrey said. “Daisuke only shoots bad guys, okay? Just adults. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Wealwell still had his eyes trained on the gunslinger. “Well?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t… really ask how old they are first,” Daisuke muttered. “But yeah, all… all full adults.”

Wealwell looked down for a moment, then looked up at Comfrey. “You’re the one in charge, right?” he asked softly.

“Well Daisuke here’s got the legal rights. Or you mean in charge of the Wind Riders? ‘Fraid so.” She grinned.

“Can I… can I tell you something?”

“Sure, kiddo. Anything.”

He looked up at Daisuke shyly, then back at Comfrey. “It’s a secret.”

She chuckled and stepped closer, bending down. “No problem. Wanna whisper it?”

Wealwell leaned in and licked her earlobe. She yelled and jumped back, and he disappeared into the hedge.

“What?” Daisuke asked. “Did he bite ya?”

“Little booger licked my ear!”

Daisuke doubled over laughing, and couldn’t stop even when she angrily told him it wasn’t funny.

Watching from the hedge on the other side of them, Wealwell smiled.

“Up there,” Marya whispered, grabbing Van’s arm and pointing. A pair of little legs dangled from a lofted walkway over the main hall. Van nodded and pointed for Marya to go talk to whoever it was while she went up. Marya crept along the wall, staying hidden until she had to step out.

“Hey up there!” She waved at one of the younger boys. “You’re… are you Wealwell?”

The boy shook his head, standing up.

“It’s okay!” she assured him quickly. “I’m not coming to get you. Just saying hello. You like being up high?”

He stared down at her.

“I do too! You can see a lot more from up there. You have such a big house, I’m sure there’s lots of places to climb. I’d love it if you’d show me some.” Still no response. “You’re… Johnwell?”

He nodded.

“Well, nice to meet you! So, what do you like to do for fun? Do you play games? Or draw? Or… or ride horses?” What did rich people even do? “Do you have horses here? I’ve never ridden, I’d be scared. I don’t like animals a lot.”

There was a thump and a muffled curse from the staircase, and Marya turned to see Van running down the stairs and out the door. When she turned back, Johnwell was gone.

Van crept over to the stairs. As big as she was, she’d learned to move silently even on a creaky wooden ship. If you could get the drop on the enemy, they couldn’t get the drop on you.

One of the older boys was on the landing, closing the window.

“Hey there,” she said softly. “You’re Blanewell, right?”

He looked down at her with withering condescension. “It’s Brycewell.”

She frowned, going through the names in her head. “…You sure? I don’t remember a Brycewell.”

“I think I know my own name!” he snorted. “Samwell said you didn’t need to learn our names, but I thought you’d at least make an effort.”

“Well… sorry Brycewell, it’s been less than a day. I’ll get it. You doin’ okay?”

“After that horrible breakfast, I dread to think what might be for lunch. Please tell me you only gave the staff the morning off.”

“Whole day, I’m afraid. Looks like there’s stuff for sandwiches though, that oughta be good enough, yeah?”

“…Just sandwiches? You really eat that for lunch?”

“What, you want a five-course meal?”

“It’s just rather… plebian.”

“Well that’s me, plebian as they come,” Van said boldly, not entirely sure of the word’s exact meaning but completely sure of the vibe. “You throwing something out the window there?”

“Hm? …Oh just Hatwell. He’s the worst, you’ll see.”

She froze. “…What?”

“Oh don’t worry, he’s got strong fingers.”

They stared each other down for a moment, and she turned with a curse and charged out of the house.

There was no one hanging from the windowsill, and no sign of anyone having fallen.

“Little assholes,” Van muttered, stomping back inside.

Sylvio and Monty followed the sound of fighting up the west staircase. The smallest and the broadest boys were pushing each other at the top, arguing.

“Boys?” Montgomery called softly as they went up.

“Be careful there,” Sylvio said. “You wouldn’t want to take a nasty tumble.”

The two paused, Hatwell holding Maxwell by the collar and poised to punch his stomach.

“I can’t believe your books are full of lies!” Maxwell snarled, pulling away from Hatwell.

“Now Maxwell –“

“You said it! You all said it, they’re lies!” Maxwell shouted, pointing down at him.

“Lies?” Sylvio laughed lightly. “Oh, Montgomery is many things, but certainly not a liar.”

“You said he was, you said he lied about you!” Hatwell said quickly.

“My dear boys, it’s rather more nuanced than that.” Sylvio smiled thinly. “In my case, I am made out to seem quite dastardly. Can you imagine?” He twirled his mustache. “But it was just to build up tension, you see?”

“Maxwell, when I write, I’m telling a story,” Montgomery said gently. “I can’t include every detail, or we’d never get anywhere.”

“It would be frightfully dull,” Sylvio agreed.

“But more than that… I always think of the world I write as… a simpler world. A happier place where it’s a bit easier to tell right from wrong, where things aren’t complicated as they are in the real world. I want my heroes to be brave… even when we were sometimes afraid. I want them to make good choices, even when we can’t always do that. They aren’t us, Maxwell. They might be who we’d like to be. Who we wish we were. I talked to each of my friends before writing about them, and we agreed on what they would be like. And the point of these books is the adventure, not the personal problems we may face from day to day. That would be a different story. The ones you read are the ones I wanted to write. Does that make sense?”

Max frowned deeply. “I just thought…”

“You thought everything you read was real.” Hatwell rolled his eyes. “You’re such a baby, Maxwell.”

“I’m not a baby!” Maxwell swung around and punched him in the face.

“All right, all right, let’s stop this now,” Montgomery said, stepping up between them.

“So you’re not even evil?” Hatwell asked Sylvio, rubbing his cheek.

“He’s not evil in the books either, you just think he’s the bad guy in the first one!” Max growled.

“They’re boring anyway,” Hatwell said, shrugging. “I didn’t finish the first one.”

Maxwell clenched his fists. Monty put a placating hand on his shoulder.

“Well that’s all right,” Monty said. “You gave it a try, which I think is the most important thing. And it wasn’t for you! And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“It would’ve been better if you were really the bad guy,” Hatwell said to Sylvio.

“Oh no, I would never… harm anyone.” Sylvio smiled wickedly. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks I’m so bad. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Of course not!” Monty clapped Sylvio on the back. “We’re good friends, and I would trust Sylvio with my life.”

“And I would trust Monty with mine. Like you and your brothers,” Sylvio suggested. “We may have our occasional… disagreements, perhaps a spat now and then, but we do care deeply for each other.”

“I… I like how you’re all friends in the book,” Max whispered. “So… that part’s real?”

“That part is very real,” Monty assured him gently. “…Now, what do you say we get away from the top of the stairs, eh champs?”

Maxwell’s eyes went dull and hard. Hatwell turned and pushed Monty hard so he stumbled into Sylvio, who fell on the floor with Monty on top of him.

“Are you all right?” Monty huffed, getting up and offering his friend a hand.

“Just fine,” Sylvio muttered, taking it and letting Monty pull him to his feet. “Good thing he didn’t push you the other way. That could have been… deadly.”

“I don’t think we need to use the buddy system here,” Haunch muttered.

“Nah, Comfrey just wanted some extra canoodlin’ time,” Onion agreed, shaking his head as they went down the hall. They came to a narrow spiral staircase in an alcove that went both up and down, and looked at each other.

“I’ll go up,” Haunch offered. “I know you hate stairs.”

“Gonna have to go up eventually even if I go down,” Onion muttered.

“Fine then, you go up and I’ll go down.”

“…No, I’ll go down. Can’t imagine there’s more’n one level of basement, and you’ve got about three goin’ up.”

“Fine.”

Onion headed down into the basement. There was a massive hot water heater – maybe Haunch should’ve come down here, he’d feel right at home. He looked in the wine cellar, which was well-stocked. …Maybe it was a good thing Haunch didn’t come down here.

“Anybody down here?” he called out.

Something moved above him. Onion looked up and jumped, clutching his heart. Roywell, the second-oldest, lay across two thick oak beams, looking down at him.

“Don’t scare me like that, you’ll give me a heart attack!” he growled. “What are you doing up there?”

“I live here. What are you doing down here?”

“I know you don’t like it, but I live here too right now.” Onion shook his head. “Will you get down from there to talk to me? You’re givin’ me a crick in my neck.”

Roywell stared at him for a moment before shifting around to get a good grip and dropping down. “I thought you’d be down here stealing the wine. Father’s collection is very rare and expensive, you know.”

“Mm, I didn’t get a good look, but I figured.” Onion leaned in. “Between us? You might wanna lock it up.”

“…What?”

“Just so it’s secure. So it stays in the family. If you catch my drift.”

“But… I…” Roywell leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Who’s going to steal it? Is it Van? I know she’s a pirate. Or Marya? Because she’s Scrapsylvanian?”

“Now that’s not polite or accurate, so we’re going to stop with the stereotypes right now, understood, young man?” Onion said sternly.

“I’ve just heard…”

“Well, people say a lot of things that aren’t true. Think about it, how likely is it that every single person’s got exactly the same problems just because they come from the same place?”

“I… It’s.. that’s how it is, though,” Roywell said uncertainly. “I mean, Father’s said that… and Mr. Codswallop… And people at school.”

Onion frowned and inhaled slowly. “Sounds to me like you never met anybody from Scrapsylvania. Or a pirate. Am I right?”

“Of course I haven’t!”

“Well you have now. And you don’t know ‘em well yet, but you’ll learn that’s not what Van and Marya are like. And they’re not the exception. Got that?”

“Oh. Okay,” Roywell said uncertainly.

“I’m not sayin’ anybody’d take it,” Onion continued, softening again. “I’m just sayin’ if I had a bunch of strangers in my house, I wouldn’t leave the liquor cabinet wide open.”

“Oh. Yes.” Roywell nodded quickly. “Well we wouldn’t. That was a test. I was just seeing if you’d take anything.”

“Sure,” Onion sighed. “I’m just checking on you. Making sure you’re okay. …You okay?”

“Other than my father and grandfather dying, my brothers all not knowing what to do, and a bunch of criminals moving in, I’m just fine,” Roywell deadpanned.

“Well… it’s a difficult time for you. We understand that, we all loved old Cadswitch, and your dad was… well most of us know what it’s like to lose your parents. It’s not easy, one way or another.”

“Okay,” Roywell said, rolling his eyes. “…Do you want to see the vaults?”

“Vaults?”

“We’ve got all sorts of vaults and such. Just used for storage these days.”

“Sure. I’d be interested.”

“I heard you stole money from banks, is that true?” Roywell asked as he led the way down a dimly-lit passage.

Onion chuckled. “Well, what’s a little fraud worked on a bigger fraud?”

“That’s no excuse for theft.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Of course I don’t!”

“Well. You ever want a finance lesson, you come and find me.”

“Right here’s the big one.” Roywell gestured to a thick iron door. He swung the latch and heaved it open with a loud creak. “Nothing gets through that door.”

“Mm. Very impressive.” Onion nodded.

“Do you want to see inside?”

Onion glanced at the boy sidelong. “Not particularly.”

“I thought you were interested in money. There’s gold in there. And jewels. Priceless antiques. Documents and deeds and…”

“And the most obvious trap I’ve seen in a long time,” Onion cut in, smiling. “No thank you. I think I’ll head back upstairs. Might see if we can bake some cookies later, how does that sound? I promise we won’t let Van anywhere near the stove.”

Roywell stood and watched him walk away, clenching his teeth.

Haunch was panting and sweating as he went up and up and up, getting dizzy after just a few spirals. There were doors at each floor, and he opened the doors to take a look, but kept going up until he reached the roof. There was a little walkway that led from the door to the end of a gable, and there sat the oldest Gotch boy. Samwell turned sharply, caught off-guard.

“You’ve got a nice hiding spot up here.” Haunch stepped out, closing the door behind him after making sure he could open it again from the outside. “Good place to get away from things.”

“You shouldn’t be up here,” Samwell said flatly.

“You prob’ly shouldn’t either.” Haunch sat down and leaned back against the door. Samwell started to get up, but he waved the boy back. “Relax, I’m up here for the same reason you are.”

“I hardly think you’d know any reason I have for –“

“Lots of bullshit goin’ on down there right now. I know Comfrey’s already suffocating in this place. Can’t say I’m much different.”

“Well… that doesn’t apply to me, because I live here,” Samwell said stiffly.

“Sure, so you can’t get away.”

Samwell glared.

“On the ship, I run the boiler room,” Haunch said companionably, looking out over the grounds. He spotted Comfrey and Daisuke far below. “It’s hot and it’s tight quarters. Nobody else wants to be in there. Makes it a good escape for me.”

Samwell sighed. “Well I’m already up here, so find your own escape.”

“You’re up here laughing your ass off because you set those little terrors on us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I had some big brothers of my own, I know how it is. Trust me, we don’t wanna be here any more’n you want us.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a big flask, taking a swig.

“Are you… drinking while supervising children?” Samwell asked, disgusted.

Haunch looked at him intently, then held out the flask to him. “I dunno, are you a child?”

Samwell froze. “I… I just think it’s… I mean…”

“Do what you want, but it’s there if you want a nip.” He leaned over to place the flask as close to Samwell as he could reach without getting up.

“I… I heard you… were unemployable. For drunk and disorderly conduct,” Samwell said slowly, staring at the flask.

“Yeah? Who told you that?” Haunch’s eyes narrowed.

“Doesn’t matter. I know about all of you.”

“You think so?” Haunch leaned in. “What’ve you heard about the others?”

“Just… well Van Chapman’s a pirate. I’m pretty sure you all are.”

“That’s Van’s family, she’s one of us,” Haunch said gruffly. “And we’re not always on the level with the law, but we ain’t pirates. We don’t go out looting and pillaging.”

“Onion St. Clay committed bank fraud numerous times.”

“And he’s the best bookkeeper you’ll ever meet. Keeps our accounts solid through any storm. I’d trust that man with my wallet, and I don’t say that about many people.”

“What’s… Why is Montgomery LaMontgommery traveling with you?” Samwell asked, scooting closer. “I mean, he’s… a children’s book author.”

“For the adventure.” Haunch shrugged, leaning back. “Same as any of us. For the thrill, the discovery. The company. Not everybody gets to live an exciting life, and that goes double for writers. He’s one of us. As good a man and as good a friend as you’ll ever find.”

Samwell stared at him, trying to find the lie in his words. After a moment the nagging temptation at the back of his mind won out and he reached for the flask. Haunch didn’t move as he carefully opened it and took a small drink. Immediately he flung it down and rocked back, coughing. Haunch lunged for it before it fell down the side of the roof or spilled too much.

“Easy there! Not used to the strong stuff, huh?” He laughed roughly.

“I… I’ve drank before!” Samwell croaked.

“Sure you have.”

“I’m… used to good wine.” Samwell glared at him. “And Father has… had… a collection of fine liquors. I had a little now and then.”

“Well there’s no finer liquor than homemade corn mash moonshine.” Haunch grinned, taking another drink. “Takes some getting used to, though.”

“What about Daisuke Bucklesby?”

“Oh he robbed all kinds of people back in the day. You should hear all his stories. Held up some trains. Made some shady deals. Killed a few people. More’n a few, I’d say. You know he’s the reason we’re here, right?”

Samwell froze. “…What?”

“Yeah, told us last night when you all were in bed. He used to gamble with your grandpa all the time. Won guardianship of all of you in a beetle fight. It was supposed to be a joke. Your grandpa thought it’d be real funny to put it into his will.” He rolled his eyes. “We’re all laughing real hard now, ain’t we?”

Samwell barely managed to turn his head before losing the entire contents of his stomach off the side of the roof.

Chapter Text

“You’re… you’re lying,” Samwell insisted, gripping the table. “You have to be lying.”

“Fraid not,” Daisuke said. “Like I said, I thought it was a joke. Funny guy, your grandpa.”

“No, that tracks, Cadswitch had a weird sense of humor.” Comfrey shook her head. “But don’t you worry, this one’s not allowed to do any more paperwork.” She grinned and patted Daisuke’s thin shoulder.

Samwell stared at them hollowly.

“I didn’t really wanna – see we only did it ‘cause we thought it’d never come up,” Daisuke explained. “You were already sixteen, he an’ your dad were always pretty careful… thought it’d just be somethin’ to laugh about with y’all later.”

That would explain the additions to the will, the fact that Daisuke Bucklesby was named legal guardian of the boys for the next three months. And… yes, Grandfather had always been eccentric, but…

“He… he gave us away to strangers,” he mumbled.

“He made sure friends would be takin’ care of you all if he couldn’t,” Comfrey suggested gently. “Cadswitch might’ve been a weirdo in the best way, but he wasn’t cruel.”

Samwell looked up at her. “Why… why would he put it into his will, though? Legally?”

“Wouldn’t be funny if it wasn’t,” Daisuke suggested.

Samwell put his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Comfrey said. “This ain’t easy for any of us, and I know you’re not happy with the arrangement. Gotta make the best of it though, right?”

“So… you all knew about this? You’ve just been laughing about it for a year?”

“We just found out last night.” She glanced meaningfully at Daisuke. “Sure woulda been something I woulda liked to know about sooner.”

“Sorry.” Daisuke looked away. “Really didn’t think it’d come up.”

Outside, the other Wind Riders had managed to round up the younger Gotches for a game of tag. The boys were winning easily, but couldn’t catch Marya for a complete victory.

“But you mentioned you thought you could make this little arrangement… shorter,” Comfrey said, smiling. “What’s the plan, kiddo?”

“Don’t – I’m not a kid, I’m nearly of age,” Samwell snapped. “And my hope is that you’ll get tired of this and leave! You people don’t care much for laws, from what I hear.”

Comfrey exhaled loudly. “Wish I could. Really wish we could, but we’re caught on this one. And aside from that… Cadswitch was a good friend. Wouldn’t want to let him down. Sorry. Like I said, I’m no happier about it than you are. That all you got?”

Samwell squared his shoulders. “No, actually. I’m betrothed to the eldest daughter of the Goldstone family. It’s been arranged since I was very young. I’m having Mr. Codswallop speak to them – he said he can do it Monday – and see if we can get the marriage moved up to… to now, or as soon as possible. Then my brothers and I can stay with their family until I turn eighteen, at which point we can move back here.”

Comfrey and Daisuke looked at each other.

“They just marry off kids around here?” Comfrey asked.

“Rich people,” Daisuke muttered.

“It’s how things are done,” Samwell said stiffly.

“Okay. All right. Worth a shot,” Comfrey said slowly. “How well do you know this girl and her family?”

“I – we’re both away at school most of the time. I’ve seen her at events, though,” he said defensively.

“She your age, or…?” Daisuke trailed off.

“She’s… she’s almost a year younger.” He frowned as they shared another glance. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Listen, I dunno how you folk do things around here,” Daisuke said. “But I’ll say this, I don’t hear a lot about young rich girls’ families loving it when they run off with a guy before marriage. Even if it was supposed to happen later.”

“We’re – we’re not running off, I’m getting it approved with her parents!” Samwell snapped. “I’m going through the proper channels! And I’ve told you more than I need to, this is none of your business!”

“Sure, sure,” Daisuke said, putting up his hands. “Just givin’ you some advice. As a married couple. As your… guardian.”

“I don’t have to put up with this,” Samwell growled, standing and walking out.

“…So we’re in it for the long haul,” Comfrey sighed.

“Sure looks that way,” Daisuke agreed.

“All right, circle up you lot!” Van called outside. The Gotches and the Wind Riders turned to her. Only Marya ran over, still untagged. “Game’s over. Nice hustle. Let’s all go in for a bite to eat, then we’ll split off, got it?”

“I’m going to my room!” announced Roywell loudly.

“Nope,” Van said. “Food. Then we’ve got something fun planned, how’s that sound?”

“Stupid,” said Hatwell. The others nodded in agreement.

“Oh yeah? You ever shot a gun before?”

Hatwell froze, eyes wide. Every Gotch stared at her.

“Father says weapons are ungentlemanly,” Wealwell spoke up, wiping his mouth.

“Yeah, he had a pistol under his coat every time I saw him,” Van snorted. “We thought you older three could learn to shoot. Your big brother too if he’s done talking to Comfrey and Daisuke. And then Monty was going to show you younger ones some mushrooms or something?”

“A rather uncommon mushroom that I noticed growing in the woods near here!” Monty said, grinning. “I’d love to take you three on an adventure, what do you say?”

Maxwell and Johnwell stared up with starry eyes.

Wealwell looked at them, then up at Monty. “I suppose.”

Hatwell grabbed Maxwell on their way inside and jerked him back. “Hey. Don’t forget they’re our enemies.”

“Samwell said we don’t have to do anything to Montgomery LaMontgommery!”

“You always listen to Samwell?” Hatwell sneered.

“Yes,” Maxwell shot back. “You have to too, now that Father’s gone.”

“He’s not in charge here,” Hatwell muttered resentfully.

“Now… safety is the first thing to learn when holding your firearm,” Sylvio said, holding up his own rifle. Roywell, Blanewell (or was it Brycewell?) and Hatwell held some older weapons they’d had stashed away on the Zephyr.

There was a crack and something whizzed past Sylvio’s arm. Hatwell lowered his rifle.

“Safety,” Sylvio repeated while Marya glared daggers at the boy. He showed them how to engage the safety catch, how to load their guns, and how to clean them. They were all very interested, so mostly listened to him. “We will not be pointing our weapons at people today. Or animals! A waste of ammunition until you learn to aim. Which is the second point to learn!” He stopped and spun on Hatwell, who quickly lowered his rifle. “But perhaps we’d better get it out of our system, hm?” He spread his arms wide and stepped back, facing them. “Go ahead. Shoot me.”

The boys stared at him, then at each other.

“Go ahead! You’ve tried twice now, it’s only sporting that I give you a fair shot commensurate to your experience, don’t you think?”

“It’s a trap,” Roywell muttered.

“Don’t do it, Hatwell, he’ll do something awful to you,” Blanewell whispered. Sylvio and Marya were both grinning.

“Look, I’ll even put my gun down.” Sylvio slowly put his rifle on the ground. As he straightened up again, Hatwell shot. It went wide. Sylvio sighed and circled his finger around his upper torso. “I think you’ll find this is a good place to aim. Easier than the –“

Hatwell took two steps forward and shot again, and this time he hit. Red blossomed on Sylvio’s coat and he fell to the ground will a shriek. Roywell and Blanewell shared a horrified look and ran over to him. Hatwell was frozen in place.

“Is he… is he dead!?” Roywell exclaimed, looking up at Marya.

“Lesson three! It’s important to check to be sure,” she said, smiling and standing back. She turned to Hatwell. “Your kill, you check him. Come, I’ll show you how.”

The older two boys backed up quickly, and Hatwell slowly walked up. Marya crouched down beside her fallen friend. “There’s an artery in the neck, and you want to feel that for a pulse… And while you’re doing that, you put your head right here so your ear’s over his mouth, so you can feel for his breath. Okay?”

Hatwell started trembling. “I… I don’t want to…”

“All right, that was perhaps a bit much.” Sylvio sat up. The boys stared. “We thought it would be funny.”

“A joke!” Marya agreed. “Like you were playing jokes on us!”

“That – it was a stupid joke!” Hatwell shouted. “I knew you were alive! What is that, ketchup?”

“Raspberry preserves.” Sylvio wiped the red goo off his coat and licked it off his finger, flashing a grin at his friend. “Just a little thing Marya came up with for practice. We certainly weren’t going to put real bullets in the guns for this exercise. Safety, remember? I’m sorry! The crew would have laughed!”

“So are you going to show us how to shoot, or was this all just a joke?” Roywell demanded.

“No, I truly will show you how to shoot,” Sylvio chuckled. “All right, safety on? Eyes up? We should always be looking around, but never distracted. You all right, young man?” He turned to Hatwell. “No hard feelings.”

“I would’ve killed you,” Hatwell muttered.

“If it weren’t for safety, which again, is our first priority!” Sylvio agreed cheerfully. “Now you’ll notice our targets are quite far away! The rifle is a long-range weapon. …Any gun is, but especially the rifle. Now let’s line up facing the targets.”

Sylvio and Marya worked with them on their stance, on their aim, and constantly on their safety. None of them hit the targets on the first round, but Roywell hit the edge on his second try and Blanewell came close.

“How about we take a break?” Sylvio suggested after a few more rounds. “Guns down. Everybody up to stretch and look elsewhere for a bit. Very important that you not be staring at one target all day, you’ll lose sight of what’s going on around you.”

“You two were pretty good!” Marya exclaimed, going over to the older two. “Let me know if you want to practice some time.”

“What is that?” Roywell asked. “It’s not the same as our rifles.”

“Oh, this is my blunderbuss. It’s a gun, it’s just… more damage, less control.” She grinned, hefting it on her shoulder. “Less safety.”

“Nice work there,” Sylvio said to Hatwell, patting his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Hatwell growled, pushing him away.

“Come now, you’re just starting out. I can assure you, I didn’t do as well my first time shooting.”

“We don’t want you here,” Hatwell muttered.

“And we do understand that. But none of us have a choice in the matter, so best to make the best of it, yes?”

“I guess, if you’re a quitter,” Hatwell muttered, thinking of Maxwell.

“I know you boys have been away at school. When was the last time you took a walk through the woods around here?” Monty asked. He was leading the way with Van trailing along behind them.

“I don’t know,” Wealwell said, looking around and wiping his nose.

“I – I did last summer, I found, um, a dead rabbit,” Maxwell faltered.

“Fascinating! I love to investigate finds like that. It’s like a mystery, don’t you think? You can discover how the animal died, why it hasn’t been eaten yet, or what is currently eating it. Sometimes you can see if there was anything wrong inside it. A loss of life becomes a learning opportunity, and a chance to understand the animal better. If we found something like that today, we’d be lucky indeed.”

Van saw Maxwell and Johnwell glance at each other. Wealwell threw up a little.

“Is that a frequent problem for you?” Monty asked, looking at him closely.

“Hm?” Wealwell looked up. “Are you talking to me?”

“Do you find yourself vomiting frequently?”

“When I’m frightened. Or startled. Or upset. Or sometimes when I’m not.”

“I think perhaps a medical examination is in order,” Monty murmured. “That’s certainly not good for you.”

“Father had our family doctor examine me, he said maybe I’ll grow out of it.”

“I’d prefer not to leave it to that! Perhaps a mild antacid would be a good place to start.”

Wealwell shrugged, then pointed. “Is that a pigeon?”

“No! No lad, that’s a sapphire swallowtail butterfly. A lovely specimen.”

They went deep into the forest, Monty stopping frequently to point out interesting nature facts and Van gently urging him to move on before he got too distracted. Maxwell and Johnwell seemed genuinely enchanted, while Wealwell drifted along vaguely beside them.

“Ah, here we are! Gather around and look at this.” Monty waved them over. There were large clusters of delicate golden fungus growing on a large, gnarled tree.

“Now this tree is much older than any of us,” Monty explained. “It’s an Utmany Elm. How lucky to have such a fine specimen on your property. Not many of these left in the world! They didn’t fare well with all the smog that’s been generated lately. But this is one looks quite strong. It’s the perfect host for the golden porcupine fungus. Now you have to be careful, because it looks almost exactly like the golden hedgehog fungus, which is quite deadly! But if we look here – come on, get close – you can see there are gills. These long thin bits just under here. They’re golden through and through. On the hedgehog, they would be white.”

“So we can eat this?” Wealwell asked.

“We can indeed, and I think we should collect some for dinner, what do you say?” Monty grinned. “Not all of it, we’ll leave some to grow. But you can remember where we found this so you can come back after a rain and see what’s growing!”

“Monty knows a lot,” Van said softly as they walked back. She walked with the younger boys while Monty talked to Wealwell. “I can’t keep up with him sometimes.”

“Does he really eat… mushrooms from the woods?” Johnwell whispered.

She shrugged. “He hasn’t died yet. And they’re bloody delicious. …But I know he studied ‘em for years. I couldn’t just go off and pick something and expect to be fine, even if he told me what to do. So you lot don’t go gettin’ any ideas in your heads.”

Samwell looked glumly out the window of Father’s study. He watched the shooting practice and he watched the group walk into the forest and come out again.

He turned to look at Father’s desk. Ledger books, files, shelves and drawers and cabinets full of paperwork. Then there was more locked in the vaults below, and in the banks in Eisengeist. And he understood… most of it. If he sat down with Codswallop, and then had time to work with it, he could start to manage it all. But more would always be flowing in. And then there were all Grandfather’s accounts, which he had only heard stories of…

He could do it. He could handle it. If he left school and just doubled down, did nothing but this for the rest of his life…

There was a soft knock on the other side of the wall, next to the fireplace. “Samwell?” came a muffled voice.

He stood up and went over, and found the latch after a moment. Roywell stepped out of the dark tunnel in the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Samwell asked immediately.

“Nothing. Um.” Roywell looked around.

“Oh. Good. …I saw you shooting down there. Looked like you were doing well.”

Roywell flinched a little. “Sorry.”

“What – Roy. I… I’m being serious.” With some effort, Samwell pushed back his anxiety and softened his voice. “I didn’t mean –“

“No, I – you told us to not go along with them, to make them miserable – and we are! They hate us! We’re trying. Just…”

“No, listen, I… I didn’t mean you should make yourselves miserable too. You can… have fun. You can do what you want.”

“…Also Father said a gentleman doesn’t use weapons,” Roywell muttered.

Samwell bit his lip, his stomach twisting. “Well…” he said slowly. “Father… can’t be angry about it now, can he?”

Roywell stared at him. “I thought you agreed with Father about everything.”

“What!?” Samwell made a face. “No! I never agreed with him about anything! …Most things. You know how he was, if I said no to anything, I’d get in trouble.”

“Yeah. …I guess I just thought you were different.”

“I was never different,” Samwell muttered, coldness growing inside him. He couldn’t think of a single time Father had been pleased with him, other than when he shut up and agreed. “Anyway. Good job. I’m… glad you got to have some fun.”

“Hatwell tried to shoot Sylvio. A few times. He got him once, right in the shoulder.”

“What!” Samwell choked.

“The bullets were raspberry jam. He thought it’d be funny. …And safer.” He paused, lowering his voice. “I thought it was funny. Hatwell didn’t.”

Samwell was trying frantically to control his breathing.

“Anyway. Other than them giving us guns, I thought you should know Hatwell’s trying to kill them.”

Finally Samwell exhaled slowly. “Look, I… I don’t know. If they put a weapon in Hatwell’s hand, that’s on them. I hope they learned their lesson.”

“You do?” Roywell asked doubtfully.

“I told you all I don’t want them dead!” Samwell snapped. “They’re – I hate them, they’re terrible, but I don’t want any of them dead. And I don’t want Hatwell in jail.”

“It might be the easiest way to keep him out of trouble,” Roywell suggested.

“…Don’t tempt me,” Samwell muttered.

Chapter Text

Onion sighed slowly, pushing his salted coffee away. Great way to get started on a Monday morning. “Your family loves kids, huh?”

“No,” Samwell said shortly. He was drinking his own black coffee, watching the door.

“Nah, it’s tradition, Gotches are all about tradition,” Comfrey muttered. “Cadswitch, Longspot, the whole lot of ‘em.”

“Maybe we could talk about something else… in front of the young ones,” Monty suggested meaningfully.

“We’re not that young,” Maxwell protested. “And we know there’s seven of us because there has to be, Father said that all the time.”

“You think he’d have Maxwell on purpose?” Hatwell snorted. “Or keep him?”

“Big families are nice, though,” Van cut in loudly. “Many hands make light work and all that.” She paused. “…Maybe doesn’t apply to you as much. But you’ve always got somebody to play with, somebody to talk to, right?”

Samwell continued staring at the door.

“Hey, uh… I know you’re waitin’ on important news, but guys like Mr. Codswallop usually work a pretty strict 9-5,” Daisuke whispered to him.

“I know his business hours,” Samwell growled.

“…And if he had to go over to talk to somebody not real near here, that’ll take him a while too.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“I know. Just sayin’. Might wanna chill for a while, y’know? Get your mind off it.”

Samwell didn’t blink.

“Hey, you know what I was thinkin’? Your brothers all got to do some fun shi – some fun… things… the other day. What if you and I do a little shootin’ of our own?”

“Samwell will shoot your eyes out,” Hatwell said immediately.

“He’ll probably get a bullseye on the first try,” said Blanewell.

“Now Brycewell, let’s not put too much pressure on your dear brother,” Sylvio said, smiling.

“My name is Blanewell, you moron,” he said witheringly.

“I got it pretty fast,” Roywell said, shrugging. “Samwell could probably shoot your hat off.”

Samwell’s eyes were darting around now, and Daisuke noted the dark circles, the twitching movements, the quickened breathing.

“Nobody’s shootin’ my hat off,” Daisuke said. “After breakfast. You and me, what do you say? …We’ll stay in sight of the driveway so you can see if Codswallop shows up.”

“The rest of you, Marya’s got something fun for you all!” Van’s smile was forced.

“Are you separating Samwell so you can shoot him?” Johnwell asked in a small voice.

“What? No! He just needs a chance to have fun like you guys all got, right?”

“If any of you dies in our care, we’d all be in big trouble,” Comfrey laughed, patting Daisuke’s back.

“You’re familiar with the legalities,” Roywell said icily. “Do you not get paid if we die?”

“We don’t get paid at all!” Haunch complained.

“I’m not gonna kill your brother, I got nothin’ against him,” Daisuke assured Johnwell, who looked distressed. “Just tryin’ to help.”

“You think anything you’re doing is helping!?” Samwell demanded, voice rising.

“Okay, let’s calm down here,” Comfrey shouted, slamming her palms on the table. “That’s enough of that. Eat your breakfast. Then Daisuke’s going shooting with Samwell and the rest of you are going to do some crafts or something.”

“Are you crafting too?” Wealwell asked.

“What – Oh I’ve got some blueprints I’m working on –“

“Then I do too. I’m not playing anything unless you do.”

“Well I’ve kind of got a job to do, kid.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I’m not a full-time babysitter.”

“Not like we are either,” Onion muttered.

“Can I go with you, then?” Wealwell asked.

“No.”

“Okay!” Wealwell said brightly.

She almost staggered, suddenly overbalanced in the conversation. She stared at him, blithely eating his oatmeal. “…Oh. Okay.” He didn’t respond. “…Good.”

Samwell ate slowly, mostly pushing his food around the bowl.

“You let me know when you’re ready,” Daisuke said.

“Are you going to drag me out of here?” Samwell muttered.

“Nah. You wanna sit up there starin’ at papers all day every day, I’m not gonna force ya. I know I’d lose my damn mind after an hour of that.” He patted his gun. “Anyway, good to know how to shoot. You never know, right? Figured I’d offer.” He stood up and ambled out the door.

Samwell glanced over and met Hatwell’s eyes. Hatwell made a finger gun and shot it at the door. Samwell narrowed his eyes and shook his head firmly. Hatwell grinned. The eldest looked around at his brothers and felt like he should say something. Nothing came to mind. Certainly nothing he could say in front of the Wind Riders. He scraped back his chair over the floorboards and walked out without a word, knowing he was failing them all.

Daisuke stood leaning next to the door when he got outside.

“If you’re going to shoot me, get it over with,” he groaned.

“What? I ain’t gonna shoot you! Gotch damn!”

“…No, you’d go to jail.”

Daisuke chuckled. “Ain’t no jail anywhere on Gath that could hold me. I’m not scared of gettin’ caught. But I ain’t in the practice of just shootin’ kids – anybody – who I got nothin’ against.”

Samwell wavered, unable to meet his sidelong gaze. “…Let’s go,” he muttered.

“So do you have plans for every day?” Roywell asked doubtfully.

“Oh my dear boy, not in the slightest!” Sylvio laughed.

“Flyin’ by the seat of our pants here,” Haunch said.

“We just want to spend some time getting to know you,” Van said, smiling tightly. “Bonding! And yeah, keeping busy for a while to start out with. But you’ve gotta have some free time too, right? How else are you gonna learn to amuse yourselves, hm?”

Six boys stared at her disdainfully.

“If Samwell gets shot, we’re going to kill you,” Hatwell said darkly.

“Nobody’s shooting Samwell!” Comfrey broke in. “Thought we cleared that up already! Nobody’s getting shot here.”

“No matter how hard you may try!” Sylvio chuckled, winking at Hatwell.

“So what are you making us do today?” Blanewell sighed.

“Okay!” Marya stepped up, rubbing her hands. “We are going to do an old pastime of mine, from back home in Scrapsylvania!”

The boys looked at each other, a bit scandalized.

“We are going to tinker! To build! We don’t have all the resources here that we do back home, but Comfrey and I made a trip to the scrapyard yesterday and brought back all kinds of cool junk! I’ve got tools you can use, too.”

“What do you want us to make?” Johnwell asked.

“Anything! You know what’s fun? Let’s make little cars! Then we can have a race at the end!”

They looked at each other doubtfully.

“Or anything, anything that pops into your minds! Come on, let’s go! Me and Van and Haunch can show you some things.” She led them outside, heading the other way.

“All right,” she said. “Here’s something I made, it’s my blowtorch clamp. Now you might think it would be easier to just weld the two together, but I built this from scratch myself! That way I can make the proportions and the mechanisms precisely what I want.”

The boys stared at her like she was speaking another language.

“Can… can we make blowtorch clamps?” Hatwell asked softly.

“No!” She said cheerfully.

“Can I use yours?”

“Definitely not!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to be burned alive!” She winked at him with both eyes. “But let me show you how to make a basic connection here.”

“All right,” Daisuke sighed when they got to the targets. “Um… I don’t do much teachin’. Mostly just shootin’. Monty’d probably be better for this.”

“Did you lose a coin toss or something?” Samwell muttered.

“Nah. Thought it should be me.” He grimaced. “Listen, I feel bad about this whole thing.”

“I know you –“

“I mean I feel bad for you kids,” the gunman said quickly. “I know this ain’t ideal. You’re just tryin’ to take care of your family here, I get that.”

“Do you?”

“…Not really,” he admitted, handing Samwell a rifle. “Never was close with my family. …Gettin’ there with this crew, though. Here you take this one.”

“Roywell said they had fake bullets?”

Daisuke chuckled. “You think we’re givin’ those little devils real bullets? How dumb you think we are?”

“If Hatwell shoots you, it’s your own fault.”

“Exactly.” Daisuke flashed him a crooked grin. “Nah, I don’t use that shit. I’m not gettin’ Gravy all sticky.”

Samwell had been looking into his gun, and quickly pointed it down. Daisuke nodded.

“Good, you got the safety shit down. We can start with the good stuff.”

“Are… are my bullets real too?” Samwell choked.

“Yep.”

“Are you – do you have a death wish!?”

Daisuke chuckled. “Nah, I’d shoot that thing right outta your hand before you had the chance.” He whipped around suddenly and had his pistol drawn and aimed at Samwell before the boy even realized he had moved. Then slowly he reholstered his weapon. “I trust we’ll both play nice here.”

Samwell swallowed and nodded.

“All right. So – everybody wants to close an eye when they aim, you gotta keep both eyes open. Depth perception, y’know? So we’ll lift the rifle like this… Oh, take the safety off. Right there, yeah. Uh, move so you’re standin’ a little more to the side there. Then cock it. No, up there. Just like that. Easy. Okay, now lift up, you’re supportin’ the barrel with your left hand – you’re right-handed, right? Good, so left hand on the barrel, right on the trigger. Bend the knees a little. Just a little. You’re gonna hold it about shoulder height and look down the barrel, right over the top there. See it? You got it. Aim at that target right there. Deep breath… You gotta let it out, don’t ever hold it. …And shoot when you’re ready.”

Samwell inhaled, aimed, then exhaled slowly and fired. He stumbled back as the rifled recoiled, but a slender hand was on his back before he could fall.

“You got it! Look at that! Right in the red.” Daisuke pointed. The target was punctured in the middle red ring.

“I… I was aiming for the center,” Samwell murmured.

“Mm-hm. Lots of reasons for that,” Daisuke said, nodding calmly. “Gotta make sure a new weapon’s calibrated. I know that one shoots straight. Could be your vision. How’re your eyes?”

“My eyes are fine,” Samwell muttered.

“Not their best after starin’ at papers all day an’ night, though. Coffee makes you jittery, so does not sleepin’ well. That’ll make your hands shake, fucks with your aim. Weather can make a difference too. Biggest thing here, though?” He tapped Samwell’s forehead lightly. “It’s your first damn shot in your life. You hit the target, that’s good. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Samwell blinked.

“Try again. Not much you can do about the coffee and no sleep, but the breathing’s gonna help you relax a little. You got five more bullets in there, go ahead when you’re ready.”

“I thought they’d be more into this,” Marya muttered. The boys were putting things together, but all of them were throwing pieces of scrap at people when they thought they could get away with it.

“They’re kids, who knows,” Haunch said. He got hit by a screw. “Ow!”

“Might need more direction next time,” Van said, and caught a chunk of metal. “Hatwell Gotch, if you think I didn’t see that, you’re sorely mistaken!”

“It was Brycewell!” Hatwell said immediately. “Quit it, Brycewell.”

Van’s eyes narrowed and she counted them… five. She frowned and recounted. They were moving around a lot, looking through the scrap and running back and forth. “We’ve got six, right?”

“Who all we got here?” Haunch asked, clearly thinking along the same lines. “We got Johnwell, Wealwell, Blanewell, Brycewell, Maxwell…”

“You forgot Roywell,” Marya said.

“Oh. So yeah, that’s six.”

Van frowned slowly, still trying to count heads. …Where was the blonde one?

Comfrey moved around the map table in her office where she had the Zephyr’s blueprints stretched out. There was a blank sheet of drafting paper next to it, and she bent over the table, examining the cabin’s design.

“Pretty clunky,” she muttered as she worked. “We can make it sleeker… more aerodynamic…” She idly took a ginger chew from a jar and went back to the table.

…And heard the glass lid of the jar clink softly behind her.

She spun, whipping out her pistol. She wasn’t as fast as Daisuke, but none of her enemies had taken her out yet.

Wealwell Gotch stood there, hand in the jar.

“Can I have one?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I wanted to watch you. Can I have a candy?”

“No! That’s… creepy as hell! Didn’t I tell you not to come with me?”

He paused thoughtfully, then took a candy and popped it in his mouth. “I don’t remember.”

“How long have you been there!?”

He looked around, chewing, and shrugged. “Almost as long as you.”

“No you haven’t. I didn’t see you come in.”

“You were getting your papers out. Are you drawing another skyship?”

“None of your damn business! Out!”

“I’ll just stand, I won’t bother you!” he insisted.

“Nope.” She picked him up by his shirt collar and carried him out of the cabin, closing the door tight behind him.

“Nice,” Daisuke said, nodding. “You wanna –“

Gravel crunched, and Samwell’s head jerked up as a motorcar trundled up the drive. “That’s Codswallop,” he breathed. He put the rifle down and sprinted across the lawn. The sun was high by now, he’d shot a few rounds with Daisuke, with a pause for awkward conversation now and then. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. He reached the car before Codswallop reached the house, and slammed his hands into it, panting hard.

“Good heavens,” Codswallop said, rolling down the rear window slowly. “Master Samwell. Is everything all right?”

“Fine. Good. Did you… did you talk to the Goldstones?” he panted.

“Ah. Yes. Would you like to go up to your father’s – well, to your office?”

Samwell’s stomach twisted. “I’d like to know now.”

“Uh – very well.” Codswallop looked around. “You… er…”

“Can you just – fine,” Samwell growled. He ran around to the other side of the car and got in the back seat with Codswallop. The smell of cigars and mildew poured out, and he left the door open for both haste and ventilation. “What did they say?”

“Ah. Well.” Codswallop brushed down his lapels and took a small envelope from his pocket. “I’m sure you know I have a busy schedule to uphold, but as my top client, I made you my priority today and took your message myself this morning.”

Samwell was already ripping open the envelope. It was a short letter.

To Master Samwell Gotch,

Our condolences on the loss of your father and grandfather. It is a terribly sad situation, and so we cannot blame you fully for the indiscretion brought to our doorstep today.

The idea that we would rush our oldest daughter’s marriage to suit your convenience, before you are even of age, is unthinkable. I assume you are not thinking clearly in your state of tragedy.

You will learn one day that marrying off a child means that the effort of the parents transfers into a fully functioning member of society who takes responsibility for themselves. To assume that you could give us six children to raise when you are a child yourself is insulting. When we arranged your marriage seventeen years ago, your father assured us it would be not only financially wise, but an appropriate match for our daughter. We monitored your progress with interest, and always thought you a reasonable young man. However, your first act of independence has revealed you to be anything but reasonable, and not ready for independence. We of course understand that this is an emotional time for you, but we will be reconsidering this arrangement and exploring other options for our daughter. We will certainly contact you if we decide to go through with the marriage at the appropriate time, but for the time being please do not contact us again.

Our thoughts and prayers are with your family in these troubled times.

The letter was signed with the Goldstone family seal. Samwell had stopped breathing somewhere in the long paragraph.

“I’m sorry to say, they seemed less than pleased with your proposal,” Codswallop said.

Samwell was staring at the deep red velvet back of the front seat where the driver sat politely ignoring them. Distantly, he thought he might scream. Or throw up. Or faint. Or cry.

Codswallop was still talking, and his voice drifted in and out of Samwell’s consciousness.

“…Of course you can contact me at any time. I do understand how difficult this is. I hope Professor Macleod and her miscreants haven’t caused too much damage.”

“Important that you don’t allow them to influence your young impressionable brothers.”

“…vital to not let them get their hands on any paperwork, naturally.”

Paperwork

Samwell looked up.

“Did you know?” he gasped. “Did you know about… Grandfather’s wager that made this happen?”

“Hm? Oh I was not party to your grandfather’s affairs. Now that they’ve been folded into the Gotch Estate I will of course be overseeing everything for you. Relax, young man! I will take care of everything. And nothing will happen until you are of age in September.”

Samwell took a shuddering breath. “I can’t… I have to go.” He crawled out of the car, staggering and almost falling backwards. “Send all this in a letter.”

“Are you all right, Master Samwell?”

“I can’t. I can’t right now, I can’t – Please. Just send everything in a letter so I can…”

“Ah, well, you know I prefer to work face to face, it gives a more personal –“

Samwell slammed his hands into the car with his full weight, rocking the vehicle. Codswallop drew back, and the driver yelled in surprise.

“You will send me every detail of what you’ve said today and what you plan for the future in a letter. At your earliest convenience. Including contact information for Grandfather’s financial advisor.” He felt his voice rising, heard his father's echo in his tone, and there seemed to be no way to push it down.

“Well I –“ Codswallop quavered.

“That is… You said you worked for me, and that is a demand, Mr. Codswallop. Or you’ll be looking for a new job.” He slammed the door closed as hard as he could and stalked back to the manor.

Chapter Text

A week passed. Samwell came down for meals, but otherwise stayed in his room or the office.

“So,” Haunch said as they were finishing up breakfast one day. “Thought today we could –“

Hatwell stood up. “I bet you did,” he sneered, and walked out. The others looked around and slowly got up and left as well.

“Nice job, Haunch,” Comfrey said, clapping him on the back. “Good work there.”

“I don’t do kids,” Haunch muttered.

Samwell looked up tiredly. “Obviously.”

“Samwell, are you –“ Monty started, but Samwell was already walking away.

Monty turned to the other Wind Riders. “We need to keep an eye on him, he is not doing well.”

“Don’t wanna push him too hard, though,” Daisuke said. “Kid needs some space to breathe.”

“Look at him, he’s not breathing up there,” Haunch argued.

“Give him a little time, I say,” Van said. “But I agree with Monty, we keep an eye on him. Can’t let him stay up there forever.”

“As for the others, those antacids are helping young Wealwell. I’d say the vomiting has been cut in half, at least. I spoke to the staff, apparently Longspot was… quite a meat and potatoes man, so we’re incorporating more fruits and vegetables into the meals. I suspect Johnwell has a touch of asthma, but minor enough to show him some easy remedies and teach him to monitor his own condition. We’ve got a few likely pollen allergies in the bunch, and that’s to say nothing of mental health. I’m not a doctor, I’m not really qualified, but I think we can do something to help them.”

“I dunno how much good we can do in three months, but from what I’m seeing, more than Longspot did in almost eighteen years,” Onion muttered. “Are we gonna leave them alone for a while, or do we have to go chasin’ after all of ‘em again?”

Daisuke stood up and patted Comfrey’s shoulder. “You’ve been workin’ hard too. Feel like goin’ Gotch hunting?”

Comfrey exhaled, and her smile was only a little forced. “With you? Sure.”

“…Metaphorically hunting, right?” Marya asked when they’d gone.

“He’s got Biscuits and Gravy on him,” Haunch muttered.

“He always does.” Sylvio smirked, wiping his mouth delicately with a napkin. “I’m quite sure all the hunting done in this house will be… metaphorical.”

Comfrey and Daisuke walked through a long gallery. The windows were covered by thick curtains, and there were large paintings on the walls. Daisuke used Gravy to pull out each curtain on their way.

“They don’t even get sunlight in here,” Comfrey muttered. “Fucking Longspot, keepin’ the whole sky outta this place, it’s like a fucking tomb in here…”

Daisuke nodded, sharp eyes darting around. Left, right, up, behind… “This where Cadswitch lived too?”

“He had a room. Or a suite or something,” Comfrey muttered, glancing around too. “Spent most of his time in Eisengeist when Longspot started having kids, though.”

“This fucked up family…” Daisuke shook his head. “Ain’t no wonder the boys’re all… neurotic or homicidal.”

“And good on Monty for trying, but we’re not gonna undo all that in three months,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Daisuke said slowly, looking up at a massive portrait of some ancient Gotch patriarch surrounded by younger Gotches. “Yeah, for sure. …They ever have any women in the family, or…?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know it, would you?” Comfrey chuckled darkly. “No, I asked Cadswitch about that. They’re… wives, pretty much. Whether they marry into the family or marry out of it. They’re sent away as soon as they can get a spot in a boarding school, and they don’t come back. Cadswitch said he had one sister who came to visit on holidays, but only because she was their dad’s favorite.”

“And he did that to his daughters too?”

“Look, I loved Cadswitch…”

“We all loved Cadswitch,” Daisuke agreed.

“But tradition’s a strong force in rich families. Can’t overcome a lot of it. …Just like the rest of those boys’ issues.”

“Mm.” Daisuke shook his head slowly. “Well you know I never had much family, myself. Maybe I wasn’t missing much.”

“You weren’t,” she said shortly.

They both froze at a loud clatter in a room somewhere ahead. He grinned and put a finger to his lips, and they continued, stepping softly now. The sounds got louder, and they stopped outside a closed door. Comfrey very slowly turned the knob, and nodded to Daisuke. She yanked the door open and followed him into the room.

Six boys froze, surrounded by pieces of armor and ancient weapons.

Daisuke whistled softly. “Here I thought you were throwin’ pots and pans around. You got a whole damn armory in here.”

“You say ‘damn’ a lot,” Johnwell said, picking up a sword taller than he was.

“I – it’s just how I talk.” Daisuke glanced at Comfrey. “Damn’s not a bad word, right?”

“You say ‘fuck’ too,” Hatwell said loudly, grabbing a helmet and putting it over his head. “And ‘shit.’”

“You can’t say that!” Maxwell hissed, pushing him.

“I just did!” Hatwell lowered his head. Maxwell put up his hands just in time to catch the helmet as it slammed into him, making him stumble back. Since it was so big, Hatwell stepped back and Maxwell was still holding it. He threw it awkwardly at his older brother.

“Okay, but that’s… that’s just adult talk,” Daisuke said.

“Fuck?”

“Damn!”

“Shit!”

“Asshole!”

“Hell!”

They kept cursing, louder and louder, watching Daisuke and Comfrey closely.

“Fine by me.” Daisuke shrugged.

“Yeah, no problems here, boys,” Comfrey chuckled. “You’ll fit right in with my crew. Can’t wait to see how all your rich people take it, though.”

“Fuck them!” Hatwell yelled, hurling at gauntlet at Roywell.

“Yeah!” Comfrey grinned.

“You liked Grandfather,” Blanewell spoke up. “He was rich.”

“And a first-class weirdo,” Comfrey agreed affably.

“Sure was,” Daisuke agreed. “Van’s rich too.”

They paused and looked at each other. “She doesn’t act like it,” Roywell said doubtfully.

“Different kinds of rich, I guess. We’re just sayin’, you start talkin’ like that at a business meeting or a high society brunch, things are gonna go real bad for you.” Daisuke shrugged.

“I quite like brunch.”

Daisuke jumped and spun, knocking into Wealwell, who was much too close behind him. “Don’t sneak up on me,” he snapped.

“You walk so quietly.” He smiled up at the man. “I don’t like people hearing me either.”

“I wish I didn’t hear you,” Hatwell muttered.

“So… nobody’s killing each other here, right? Just some harmless fun? Right… Brycewell?”

“It’s Blanewell.” He rolled his eyes, hitting a full suit of armor with a longsword. “Keep up.”

“Blanewell. …Where’s Brycewell, then?”

“Did you lose Brycewell?” Hatwell asked.

“I don’t like Brycewell,” Wealwell commented.

“Brycewell doesn’t like you either,” Blanewell muttered.

“No, there’s six of you here,” Comfrey said, frowning. “Six here, and Samwell’s upstairs.”

“Maybe Brycewell’s with him,” Roywell suggested.

“Samwell really doesn’t like Brycewell,” Wealwell said.

Blanewell hurled a bracer at him. “Samwell loves Brycewell, shut up!” he shouted.

“Ow!” Wealwell shrieked, falling to the ground.

“Okay, everybody simmer down,” Comfrey said, her voice booming throughout the room. “Everybody likes Brycewell. Samwell likes all of you. Take it easy.”

Wealwell and Blanewell were still glaring at each other.

“You’ll never make a good statue,” Wealwell snarled.

“What?” Daisuke muttered.

Blanewell charged at Wealwell with a small rounded shield with a spike in the center.

“Hey there, kids!” Comfrey shouted.

Wealwell shifted to the side at the last minute, and Blanewell skidded on a sword and fell. Wealwell leapt up on top of him and stood tall. Hatwell punched Maxwell in the stomach while Roywell tried to push Wealwell off of Blanewell.

“Settle down, settle down!” Comfrey shouted. Johnwell charged at her and shouldered her off-balance. “Hey!”

“We’re outnumbered,” Daisuke called to her.

“They’re kids!” she growled.

“Unless you wanna start shootin’, let’s get outta here! Time to retreat.”

“Fine, we’ll call in the big guns.” She made a face and let him pull her out of the room, running back to the main wing of the house.

“Okay, what about this?” Marya said. “What if we took all of them on a little field trip for a while? Just to go explore? Maybe check out Gulfaxi Falls? Or Lone Island? Such a fun summer trip for these kids!”

“I’m not travelin’ on the Zephyr with seven kids, are you kidding me!?” Haunch growled. “It’s crowded enough with eight of us, plus whatever strays we pick up along the way! There’s no damn room!”

“And it’s not exactly child-safe,” Monty added. “I keep saying we should at least have railings on the deck.”

“That’s how you learn!” Marya shook her head. “Can’t learn safety without danger staring you in the face!”

“You can, in fact!” Monty laughed. “You very much can, and that is the ideal way!”

“Okay, well, agree to disagree.”

“The fact remains that there simply is no room on the Zephyr for seven rambunctious youths,” Sylvio said. “Not for more than a quick ride.”

“I guess you’re right,” Marya sighed. “I’m just itching for the sky.”

“We all are, Kid,” Van sighed. “And I know Comfrey is, she’s going out of her mind.”

They all looked up at the sound of footsteps pounding through the echoing rooms. Comfrey and Daisuke were laughing, holding hands as they ran, and stopped when they reached the others, panting.

“You find the boys?” Van asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” Daisuke wheezed, grinning.

“They found… some kinda armory. Down there fightin’ each other. Mostly throwin’ armor at each other. Johnwell attacked me.” She laughed breathlessly.

“Johnwell?” Monty asked, frowning. “The little quiet one who never… who causes significantly less trouble than the others?”

“Unless it was Brycewell, I don’t know what’s up with that,” Comfrey muttered.

“They fight dirty,” Daisuke said, straightening his hat.

“Nah, they’re just brothers fighting,” Comfrey said, exhaling loudly. “It happens. …Don’t wanna leave ‘em at it for too long, though. I figured it might take a good bosun to break it up, how about it? Before they kill each other?”

Van sighed and squared her shoulders. “All right. …If I caught my crew fightin’ like that, we probably wouldn’t leave port with quite as many people onboard, just sayin’.”

“But they’re children,” Monty reminded her.

“Go full bosun on ‘em, Van,” Comfrey suggested, grinning. “That’ll straighten ‘em out.”

“Right,” she said darkly, and walked off, rolling up her sleeves.

Wealwell was still standing on Blanewell fifteen minutes later. Roywell was trying to pull him off, Maxwell was trying to defend him, and Hatwell kept headbutting anyone who let their guard down for a second. They didn’t stop when the door opened.

“All right, you ‘orrible lot, line up right now!”

Father had snapped at them, he had shouted, he had even screamed. His voice was high and reedy, full of seething anger that threatened worse beneath the surface.

Van Chapman’s voice exploded through the room and through deep-set nerve connections with the arrival of everything Father had promised.

Wealwell threw up immediately. All six leapt and scrambled to line up, stiff-shouldered with their hands behind their backs. Blanewell didn’t even try to wipe the vomit off his leg. In the sudden silence Van heard the quick breathing and saw the faint trembles.

Van took a breath and let it out slowly. She didn’t have much experience with children, but she knew when to back up.

“All right,” she repeated, much softer now. “Let’s all take a deep breath. You all okay?” They all looked a bit scuffed up, Wealwell’s shirt was torn in a few places, and she could see bruises starting to form. Johnwell was trying hard not to cry. “No broken bones? Anyone need patching up?”

They continued staring straight ahead, but snuck a look at her now and then.

“Right. That was a mighty big Gotch fight. Anybody wanna tell me what set it off?”

No one spoke or looked at her.

“I got a few brothers, myself,” she said, walking across the room slowly. No sudden movements, not approaching them. She walked around, talking as she looked at the bits of armor lying around. “I get it. We used to fight too. When I was your age, I was wrestlin’ with my brothers all the time. Winning, most times. Nothing wrong with that, as long as you don’t let it go too far.” They were beginning to relax now. “Don’t wanna do any lasting damage. Don’t wanna really hurt each other do ya?” She smiled as gently as she could. …Which wasn’t very. She tried to think of the little cook in that bar just on the other side of Eisengeist, so soft and fragile and sweet it made her want to be that way when he was around so she didn’t break him. The boys didn’t bring out that response in her, but now she consciously made the attempt. “We all okay in here now?”

A few cautious nods and some fleeting eye contact answered her. “All right. Good. That’s what’s important. I think… I think you’re okay. Look, we’re not… not used to kids, right? We’re doin’ our best here. If we don’t get it right all the time, I’m sorry. We… we really do want to do right by all of you. Do our best to… to take good care of you. And we’re not doin’ the best job, I know, but I promise we’re tryin’. …Sorry I came on too strong there. That’s my job on the ship. Takes a different kind of work in here.”

All six boys stared at her. She smiled tightly.

“Y’know, I think I see the problem here. You kids do any sports at school? Any athletics?”

“We… we have to once a week until we’re thirteen,” Roywell mumbled.

“Well there’s your problem! That’s when you need it most!” Van shook her head. “And once a week? Not enough. You just need to be more active, get that energy out. Learn some martial arts, run laps, that kind of thing. I’ll bet Monty’d love somethin’ like that. You can tussle around, sure, but let’s try not to hurt anybody. Okay?”

“Are you mad at us?” Maxwell asked.

“What?” Van laughed. “No. I’m not mad. Just… like I said. Came on too strong. Sorry about that. What do you say we clean all this up?”

They looked around and muttered assent, and Van tried to organize the pieces of armor quickly before the obedience that came with fear wore off and they realized that they rarely cleaned anything up themselves. Sure enough, each of them slipped away quietly while her back was turned. Finally she turned around to find Blanewell with his hand on the doorknob. Their eyes met.

“So,” she said conversationally. “Who is it today, Blanewell or Brycewell?”

His face went blank and his eyes went hard, and he almost turned back to face her. Then he fled. Van chuckled and followed him out slowly.

Chapter Text

Almost a month had passed since the funeral, and Samwell had accepted his fate, both for the summer and in the long-term. He ate what he needed to survive. He took a sip from Father’s expensive brandy hidden away in a secret drawer when things got too bleak, and it usually made things worse to the point that he’d allow himself to take a break. He tried to familiarize himself with accounts. Codswallop’s letter arrived, and it didn’t help things, but he wrote a cursory letter to Grandfather’s financial advisor.

The Wind Riders tried to draw him into conversation at meals, without much luck. They tried knocking at the office door after a while too.

“Hey, what do you say we do some shootin’ again?”

“No.”

“I was going to take your brothers on a hike, would you like to join us?”

“No thanks.”

“Hey, we’re gonna start a puzzle down here, want to –“

“Good luck with that.”

His brothers were still causing problems every day. He didn’t have the energy to care.

There was a knock at the secret office door late one night, and he sighed and went to open it. “What’s wrong?”

All of his brothers pushed past him into the room.

“Samwell, this is the only time of the year we get to see you and we’re not even getting to see you,” Maxwell complained, grabbing onto one arm.

Wealwell grabbed him around the waist from behind and put his head on his brother’s shoulder. “You need a bath.”

Hatwell grabbed his other arm and Johnwell hugged him around the front, and Blanewell and Roywell stood before him.

“We’ve been talking, and we tried to go to your room but you’re never there,” Blanewell said, glaring at him.

“Sorry. What’s wrong?”

“That’s what we’re here to ask,” said Roywell. “You’re, like… dead from the neck up.”

“And down,” added Hatewll.

“Sorry, I just… I’m dealing with a lot,” Samwell muttered.

“Yeah, we all are.” Roywell frowned. “What happened to sticking together? Us against them?”

“I… we can’t get rid of them,” Samwell said. “They’ve stayed this long, and they haven’t killed us. They’re not as bad as I thought. …And I don’t want you guys to miss out on having fun.”

“I threw a rock out of the third floor window yesterday, and almost hit Onion when he was out smoking,” Hatwell said. “That was fun.”

“I’m not throwing up as much,” Wealwell said. He pulled some warm, broken antacid tablets out of his pocket. “Here, you chew them. Try it.”

Samwell bit his lip hard and wavered. Wealwell held him up, solid and tall, and pushed the antacids into his mouth. Reluctantly he chewed them up and swallowed thickly. “Thanks,” he mumbled, voice cracking.

“Will you tell us what’s wrong?” asked Johnwell.

“It’s just…” He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself with Wealwell’s help. “It’s… all the same stuff, it’s just a lot. More of it, with all Codswallop dropped off. Father was always working on things. I just have to get used to it.”

“Can we help?” Roywell asked.

“I don’t think so. It’s… Father showed me how, and Codswallop’s going to… to handle most of it, I just…”

The younger boys glanced around at each other, but didn’t say anything.

“Let him do it, then,” Hatwell said. “If Codswallop can do it, let him worry about it.”

“That’s his job,” Blanewell agreed. “He only brought all that stuff because you made him.”

“Sorry. I’ll… I’ll spend some time with you tomorrow. I promise. I… I do need a break.”

“Good,” Roywell said, glaring at him. “You’re not Father. You told me that. So don’t be him.”

Samwell’s shoulders hunched, but his spine straightened. “I’m not,” he said firmly. “We’ll do something tomorrow.”

“What are we doing today?” Hatwell asked at breakfast.

“What do you want to do?” Van sighed, stretching and popping her neck.

“I… was hoping we could all do something,” Samwell spoke up quietly. He felt like he hadn’t spoken in years, but he’d gotten some sleep and taken a bath, and it did actually help.

The Wind Riders looked up.

“Oh wait, Big Gotch wants to go out today?” Marya asked, grinning. “No, I’ve got something. Anybody can come who wants to. Comfrey, can I have the Zephyr today?”

“…Sure, Kid. Just bring some friends along, maybe? So you can focus on flying the ship?” Comfrey suggested.

“You got it! Who’s up for a joyride?”

“I dearly miss speeding through the skies at breakneck speeds,” Sylvio said, grinning.

“Oh, me too,” Comfrey muttered.

“Great! So Sylvio and Comfrey!”

“Oh!” Comfrey froze briefly. “Oh no, uh, I can’t. Got too much work, sorry.”

Samwell turned on her slowly. “Oh. You have too much work? That’s a shame.”

“Yeah. I do.” She stared the boy down.

“I’ll go up with you,” Van said loudly. “I’ve been missing flying too. Wealwell! You get sick, you do it over the side.”

“On the side! Okay Van!”

When they left, Comfrey turned to Onion. “Say, that kid’s wound tighter’n a spring over all that paperwork. You know what would be great? What if you went up there and worked some money magic while they’re out?”

Onion slowly looked up. “You want me to go fix his ledgers?”

“Yeah! Sort ‘em out!”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his nose. “First of all, I don’t know how much he’s got up there, but from all I know and the way it ages him five years every time he goes up to that office, I’d say it’ll take more than a couple hours.”

“Sure, but you could get a start! It’d be a huge load off his shoulders, what do ya say? Save our boy from himself?”

“…I say as tight as he’s wound, me messing with his papers might just be the thing to make him snap. He doesn’t trust any of us farther than he can throw us. Old Codswallop told him all the dirt he could dig up on us, so me touching his accounts? Not gonna go over well.”

“Nah, he’ll get over it when he sees what a great job you do! You’re a wizard with money, you can do anything.”

“Hm.” He nodded slowly. “Well. I’m not doing that, because we’ve still got a couple months to live here. He doesn’t like us, he doesn’t trust us, but I know for certain things could get worse. And I’m not gonna do that, with everything else he’s dealing with.” Comfrey opened her mouth, frowning, and he continued quickly. “Tell you what, though. I’ll talk to him later. See if he’ll let me go through it with him. If I could see what’s going on, pull a few strings to get things untangled, then show him how to get things moving in the right direction, that might do the trick.”

“That’s just making more work for him.” She shook her head, frowning darkly. “I want to help him, not give him homework.”

“And even if he thanked me for poking around in his business, what about when we’re gone?” Onion asked. “What about next time something comes up and he doesn’t know what to do? Right back in the spiral. No, I’ll work with him. …If he’ll let me.”

“You’re just trying to get out of playing games with the little terrors,” Comfrey muttered.

“Oh, like you’ve done a single thing with any of them?”

“I went looking for them a couple times! I talk to Samwell all the time. And Wealwell’s always hanging out with me.”

“Samwell’s on autopilot, that doesn’t count. And you know very well you have nothing to do with where Wealwell is.”

“Well…” She shrugged, grimacing. “Kid likes me, I guess.”

“Are we really taking a joyride?” Roywell asked, torn between scorn and excitement.

“Sure are! And guess what, I’m gonna let all of you try flying!”

“This may be our last flight,” Sylvio murmured to Van.

“All very safe!” Marya assured them all. “I’m not putting you at the wheel alone, I’ll help you out. And then we can do some stunts.”

“What kind of stunts?” asked Samwell, horrified and curious.

“The kind that are death-defying and stunning!” She grinned wildly. “I will be doing the stunts, that will not be you! Let’s fly!”

“You’re gonna be able to see your house, all your land, everything,” Van said. “Didn’t get a chance to appreciate it last time, so let’s take a look.”

“We will be flying much higher than that quick hop from Eisengeist,” Marya agreed.

“Could we shoot from up here?” Hatwell asked Sylvio.

“You can shoot from anywhere, my dear boy!” Sylvio laughed. “But what is there to shoot? With the understanding that we do not shoot anything or anyone upon the ship.”

Hatwell looked around. “A bird,” he suggested, then his eyes lit up. “Another skyship!”

“We’ve been in a few skyship battles in our day.” Van chuckled. “Sylvio and Daisuke are the most useful ones there. Wish I could punch as far as they shoot.”

The boys looked up at her. They weren’t exactly afraid of her, but they’d been a little more cautious of her after she blew up at them in the armory.

“Can you shoot even when the ship is rocking around?” Wealwell asked.

“Well, Daisuke and I are… quite skilled.” Sylvio smiled thinly. “It takes a great deal of experience.”

“Those two can hit anything,” Van said proudly.

Hatwell turned and hurled an ancient metal glove off the side of the ship.

“Hatwell!” Van snapped. “Where’d that come from?”

He shrugged. “The house.”

“Well it’s gone now. Anything else you’re holding onto?”

“…No,” he muttered.

“Right. And what if it hit somebody?”

He shrugged. Samwell turned to his brother.

“Hatwell, nobody wants their relative killed by a piece of metal falling out of the sky,” he said quietly. Hatwell froze, and Samwell went over to squeeze his shoulder.

“Hey Maxwell!” Marya called. “You want to be first?”

Maxwell raced up to the captain. “I – yes! Can I…”

“What? What do you want to do, what’s your dream?”

“Um.” He looked over to the side. “Can we… go down and then go up through the clouds?”

“Of course! Come here, in front of me. Good. So we will angle down like this, nice and gentle… We have to go through the clouds to get below them. We’ll go slow, because we don’t know what other ships are out there, right? I know Van and Sylvio are keeping a lookout, but sometimes you don’t see one. There we go.”

“See all that smoke over there?” Van said to the others. “That’s Eisengeist.”

“Montgomery says it’s bad to breathe it, but so many people live there,” said Blanewell.

“And you’ve never seen so many people hacking and coughing,” Sylvio said. “Even normally healthy people! We’d all grow sickly if we spent too much time there.”

“Okay, so now we were just up there, we’re pretty sure nobody’s there, so we’re going to go faster, okay?” Marya said. Maxwell nodded enthusiastically, gripping the wheel tightly. “So sharp ascent!” She pulled the wheel with him and they shot up out of the clouds into the clear blue sky. Maxwell gasped joyfully. “There you go!”

Johnwell was the opposite, standing as far as he could from the wheel, hands barely touching it.

“We can just cruise right here,” Marya said, softening a little. “You know, I was nervous about flying my first time. …The whole first month or so, really. I grew up deep in the mines, I barely ever even saw the sky! So it was scary! But now it is home, and I can’t imagine not being here.”

Johnwell swallowed. “You… grew up underground?”

“That’s right! Hard work with no sunlight, every day I can remember.”

“Your… family does… mining?”

“Oh no. I was an orphan. Lots of us in Scrapsylvania, we all go right to the mines. I had my Auntie Zuzu who took care of me when I needed something, she was also an orphan. …Whether we have a family or not, so it was not so sad at the time.” She shrugged. “But then I met Comfrey and the others, and they pulled me out into the sky! And I have never been happier. Without Comfrey I never would have gotten that. Sometimes you need somebody to help you get to where you need to be.”

A bird flew by and Johnwell gasped, jumping back into her.

“You’re okay! You’re fine, just a bird. Nothing to worry about.”

He scooted out from under her arm and stood to the side.

“Okay, you finished? That’s fine! You gave it a try! Send your next older brother over.”

Wealwell strolled in and took the wheel.

“All right, ready to go! Good posture!” Marya said, stepping behind him. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t remember the books much. Can I make it stay in one place?”

“What, like hovering? I suppose. You want to go straight up and down?”

“No…” Wealwell looked around and pointed to a large puffy cloud. “Could we go up so we’re right inside the cloud, and hover right there?”

“Huh. Going for stealth? Sure, we can do that. So we’ll accelerate and go up at a slight angle. You’re very confident, have you flown before?” she asked, grinning.

“I dreamed about it. And I’ve seen Comfrey do it.”

“…What?”

“She flies around a lot! Mostly at night.”

“Wealwell. Are you sneaking onto the ship at night?”

“I’m not sneaking!” he protested. “I just walk in and I stand! I like to watch her, I don’t bother her. I stand where I won’t distract her. Sometimes she even looks right at me and doesn’t see me.”

“That is… that… You should be in bed at night.”

“So should she!”

“Well… don’t do that?”

He didn’t look back at her, but smiled as they stopped in the cloud. “It looks like a koala, don’t you think? Can people see us now?”

“Um. Not from below. From up here… the cloud isn’t thick enough.”

“Oh…”

“Besides, you don’t want to be invisible. That’s how you get rammed by another ship.”

“Comfrey’s designing a ship that’ll fly better, she says this one is clunky.”

“The Zephyr is not…” Marya’s hands tightened protectively around the wheel. …She knew it was, though. “The Zephyr is a fine vessel! You are finished, send in Hatwell.”

“See you later, Marya!”

“…All right Hatwell, ready for this?” she asked as the next Gotch walked in. “What do you want to do? Want to go fast?”

“Can we fly over Scrapsylvania?”

“…What? No, that is too far away. Why?”

“I want to see if you have rains of metal a lot there.”

“Oh. …Well it does happen from time to time. Not as much as it used to, my Auntie Zuzu told me her grandmother used to get hit by machinery almost every day. But yes, it still happens sometimes.”

“So you people get hurt a lot?”

“Sometimes,” she said evenly. “We mostly work underground. It is hard work, but more dangerous is scavenging through the abandoned metal on the surface.”

He frowned.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she said a little softer. “And your grandfather. He was a great man.”

“Shut up, you never had a father,” Hatwell growled.

“That’s true. But I did all right, despite that. Life is suffering, but we must persevere. That is how we live in Scrapsylvania. …And sometimes things get better. That is how we live in the sky.” She smiled a little. “Do you want to fly?”

Hatwell’s face twitched. “Fine,” he muttered, and pushed past her to grab the wheel. She stepped up behind him as he went up and down in jerky movements.

“Easy,” she murmured. “Gentle little movements. It’ll go where you ask, you don’t have to force it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re making your brother sick.”

“Wealwell’s always sick.”

“…Oh, him too. I meant Samwell.”

Hatwell stopped, glancing behind him. Samwell was gripping a pipe, holding onto Wealwell. Both looked nauseous.

“…I’m done,” he muttered, and walked away.

Marya flew for a little while to let everyone’s stomach settle before calling out, “Blanewell, Brycewell, get in here!”

Blanewell glared at her as he walked in. “You think you’re so funny.”

“That’s right, I do!” She grinned at him. “I think you are, too. Come on! What do you want to do?”

“Can I… can I do what Hatwell was doing, but better?”

“As long as you don’t tell him that’s what you’re doing,” Marya agreed. “We don’t need to make him angrier, I think.”

“He’s always angry.”

“Well, that is just his age. I was angry when I was thirteen also.” She shrugged. “This is your turn, not Hatwell’s. Now the ship will do what you ask her to. You can ask, you don’t need to demand. Just gentle little movements.”

He was a little jerky at first, but she guided him into slow little curves up and down, side to side, a gentle spiral.

“You’ve got it! Very good!”

“Why are you doing this?” Roywell asked, holding the wheel firmly and staring straight ahead.

“I thought it would be fun! Get you all up in the sky, clear your heads!”

“Why are… You’re legally responsible for us, but you just have to keep us alive.”

“You think we want to sit in the house doing nothing all summer?” she snorted. “No! Much more fun if we can do things. And anyway, we want it to be fun for you, too. We want to help you out and make sure you have a good childhood. At least for this summer.”

“That doesn’t – I don’t understand.”

Marya shrugged as he flew in a wide circle. “You can try as hard as you want, but we don’t hate you. I’d do the same thing in your situation, I think. …And I think I’d do a better job of it, but you’re doing your best.”

He turned and stared at her.

“Anyway, it’s not so bad, is it? It’s not for us. I miss the sky, but you Gotches are pretty fun sometimes. I’ve been saying, if we brought you up to fly around with us, that would be perfect. But the ship isn’t big enough,” she sighed.

“You… really don’t want us all up here with you.”

“See who snaps first, Haunch or Hatwell,” she laughed.

“He does actually want to kill you. Some of you.”

“Oh, we know! I love his energy, actually. Why do you think we all went up at the same time? He’s not going to crash the ship with all of you up here.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Roywell muttered.

When Samwell came in, Marya stepped aside when he took the wheel.

“Okay Big Gotch, let’s see what you’ve got. See what you’ve Gotch!”

“What’s with all of you and nicknames?” Samwell complained.

“Bring it up a little, keep your hands level. It’s fun, right?”

“You actually like it when they call you a kid?”

“Not a kid. The Kid. Because I am the youngest pilot in history, because I can do so much, and I am just a kid! I think that’s pretty neat!”

“That’s… that’s not what they mean when they do it to me. …To us.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it is not a bad thing. We were all kids at one time.”

“It just… feels condescending.”

“You think Big Gotch is condescending too?”

“Isn’t it?” he muttered, red-faced.

“No!” She laughed. “Oh, you would know if we didn’t like all of you!”

He stared out at the sky.

“Oh. You wouldn’t?” She quieted as well. “Okay. Well. It’s not being condescending, Gotch. We are trying to be friendly.” She paused. “When I was younger, when I joined the crew, I also didn’t understand how the others talked. I knew the words, but it didn’t make sense how they were so friendly, how they included me, how they wanted me around for things that were not work. It took a while to get used to it. You will, though!” She grinned at him. “How about it, you want to do a loop de loop?”

“I – Is that safe?” Samwell asked, then lowered his voice. “…Can I?”

She grinned widely and clapped him hard on the back, then turned to shout, “Everybody hold on, we’re going upside-down!”

Chapter Text

The boys clutched at pipes, walls, Van, and Sylvio while Marya careened through the skies laughing wildly. Wealwell threw up, but then managed to stand solidly on deck without holding onto anything, though Van stayed close and was ready to grab him if he faltered.

“Loop!” Marya yelled, and they all held tight, Van grabbing Wealwell immediately. The Zephyr wasn’t made for complex maneuvers, but Marya could get it to do anything. When she’d guided Samwell through a loop, it had been uneven and just fast enough to not lose anyone one deck. Her own was quick and tight. Van and Sylvio kept arms around the group as they huddled together.

“Nice one, Kid!” Van called when they were upright again. “All right, everybody? Didn’t lose anyone?”

The Gotches mumbled assent, looking shocked. Blanewell looked up at her.

“Brycewell went over the side.”

She let out a big booming laugh and clapped his shoulder. “No worries, we caught him at the bottom of the loop!”

As they zigzagged through the clouds and Marya evened out their course, the boys began to relax. The group moved up to the prow, gripping the ropes while the wind blew around them.

“It’s rather like flying under your own power, isn’t it?” Sylvio said, wind whipping through his hair. “As if it’s just you in the sky.”

Wealwell stepped up next to him, and he reached out to keep a hand on the boy.

“My word, what a solid stance you have!”

“Thank you!” Wealwell said, glowing with pride. “It’s my greatest talent.”

Samwell stood among his brothers, and remained as they began to spread out.

“Gives you a rush, don’t it?” Van said quietly, coming up next to him.

“It does.”

“Hey… sorry about your fiancé. That’s a tough situation.”

He sighed, staring out at the distant mountains. “It’s not like we were close. It… it wasn’t about her, I just wanted to try to help my brothers.”

“Mm,” Van agreed. “Prob’ly a good idea to get to know somebody you’re gonna spend your life with, huh?”

He grimaced. “I… I guess. Yeah.” They stood quietly for a long moment. “I… ruined that whole… I… I wasn’t thinking clearly, I –“

Van clapped his shoulder gently. “Sure you weren’t. You’re grieving. You were panicking. …How’re you doin’ now, by the way?”

“Um,” he muttered, looking down. “A little better, I guess.”

“Good. Y’know we’ve all been worried.”

“Mm.”

“Your brothers especially.”

“I… I know.”

“Anyone can see how much they love you. And I know you love them just as much. …Just remember, lockin’ yourself up and missin’ out on life isn’t gonna do ‘em any good.”

“I know,” Samwell murmured. “Roywell –“ He stopped, glancing up at her, then continued carefully. “Roywell… reminded me… that I’m not… not our father.”

“Course you’re not. You’re your own man.”

“I know you didn’t like my father.”

She tilted her head slightly, regarding him closely, then looked out at the sky. “We didn’t,” she agreed quietly. “Not a one of us. But we loved your grandad, and as much as you and your little band of hellions has been makin’ life hard for us, it makes life interesting too. You’re growing on us.”

“I told my brothers to make you all miserable,” he mumbled.

“Oh, we know.” He glanced up sharply. “Hard not to notice. …But you didn’t know us. You grew up with your dad. Ol’ Codswallop dug up any dirt he had on us.”

“I’m sorry,” Samwell whispered, staring straight ahead. Johnwell was holding onto Wealwell while Maxwell and Hatwell lay on the deck and looked down at the ground below. Sylvio was supervising Roywell and Blanewell climbing the rigging.

“You did what you thought was right. Did the best you could. Honestly? I’d do the same in your shoes.”

“…Or better? That’s… what Marya said too.”

“Or better.” She laughed. “Oh, kid, we could really make things bad. You’ve no idea.” She shook her head. “Nah, you’re all right. …I was never around kids much before. Gotta admit, I don’t think I’m doing that great.”

He shrugged. “It… could be worse. Like you said… you could make things much worse.”

“I’m trying to do better. We all are. It’s a learning process.”

“…I heard you yelled at them.”

“I did. My job involves a lot of yelling. …At adults who know me, out on the windy deck. Not inside with a bunch of kids who don’t trust me.”

“I heard… you apologized.”

“Well yeah, they… Look, the way they reacted, all the same… Well. I’ll be more careful. …Just want you to know I’m not gonna hurt ‘em. We’re on the same side here.”

Samwell exhaled, the knot in his stomach loosening. “Okay,” he muttered, unable to say more. She patted his back.

As soon as Hatwell stood up, Sylvio stepped over to him. “Would you like to climb with your brothers?”

Hatwell smirked. “So I can spit on your head?”

Sylvio laughed and patted his shoulder. “My boy, you have no idea how air speed velocity and wind will affect that! I can give you a boost if you like!”

Hatwell stepped back, instantly on guard.

“No tricks,” Sylvio chuckled. “You’ll simply find that your projectile… will misfire. In a most unfortunate direction.”

Johnwell had helped Maxwell climb up to stand on Wealwell’s shoulders, and he stood swaying while Wealwell tried to balance him from below. “Hatwell! Fight me in the sky!” he yelled.

“No, we are not –“ Sylvio began, but Maxewll launched himself off of Wealwell and onto Hatwell, who didn’t move quite fast enough to avoid being knocked to the deck.

When they landed next to the manor, Codswallop’s car was parked near the house. Comfrey and Daisuke stood nearby, looking far more at ease than Ouroboros, who was hunched up next to the car. As the brothers walked towards the house, he hurried over.

“Are you quite all right? Professor Macleod said you’d been whisked away into the sky!”

“…Yes,” Samwell said, frowning. “No, we… we weren’t whisked anywhere, we just…”

“We went for a ride, Mr. Codswallop,” Wealwell said, striding past him. “We got to fly the ship! We’ll be sure to invite you next time.”

Codswallop sputtered incoherently as Wealwell walked blissfully into the house.

“Go ahead,” Samwell murmured to his other brothers. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

Roywell gave him a look, but they did as he asked.

Samwell squared his shoulders and walked over. “Mr. Codswallop. Everything’s fine. Did you need something?”

Daisuke strolled over, flashing a grin at Samwell as he stopped beside him, then turned and tipped his hat. “Mr. Codswallop.”

“Pardon me, I’m speaking with my client…”

Daisuke cleared his throat softly. “…You’re speakin’ with a minor about accounts that ain’t fully his yet, without his legal guardian. Pilin’ more and more stress on him when he can’t legally do shit about it, from what I hear. And that’s mighty underhanded of you, but talkin’ to Onion, apparently it’s not fully legal either.”

“I – you are… How dare you –“

“Well I reckon I dare ‘cause ol’ Cadswitch said it’s my job. I like to take my job seriously.” He shrugged and turned to Samwell. “Mind if I hang out?”

Samwell stared at him, caught between pride and being so overwhelmed for the past month. “I… I guess.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep quiet, don’t you worry. You won’t even notice I’m here.” He smirked at Codswallop. “Go on.”

“Yes, ah… I brought over some more documents from your grandfather’s accounts.” He was glaring at Daisuke. “I trust you are keeping all these files private.”

“Of course. It all stays locked in my father’s – in the office. I… I’ve been working on it.”

“Excellent. Is it making sense to you?”

Samwell wavered. “It’s… mostly. Mostly it’s just… taking a long time. I’m not experienced enough to do it as fast as… as you or Father.”

“Of course not,” Coswallop agreed. “As I said, Master Samwell, you are under no obligation to involve yourself. This is why you pay me, after all. So I can handle your finances for you.”

“I… I know. I just – Father was always so worried about money, he was telling me we were… hemorrhaging money left and right, he said we had to fix Grandfather’s mistakes, it… it sounded like we could lose everything. …So I do worry about it.”

“Your father was always a shrewd businessman. He wanted to be sure you and your brothers had the funds to continue the glorious legacy of the Gotch family. He did work closely with me, but I am familiar with his wishes and I am quite capable of managing your growing accounts. And in time, when you wish to make changes, I can make adjustments on your behalf.”

“…All right. Thank you.”

“Let me give you the documents I’ve brought.” He cast another dirty look at Daisuke before going to his car and bringing out a huge package of files. Samwell’s heart sank.

“You’ve brought a lot of crap by here,” Daisuke noted. “Couldn’t rent a truck to do it all at once? Gotta make a few trips? How much more you got?”

“That is –“ Codswallop began, then frowned when Daisuke smiled and wagged his finger. “We are… processing it, but Lord Cadswitch’s accounts are especially convoluted, and it is taking time.”

“Mm. …His money person doin’ anything?”

“I wrote to her and haven’t received a response,” Samwell muttered.

“Well I’m terribly sorry to hear that.” Codswallop paused, looking pointedly at Daisuke. “It may be that she is choosing not to communicate with a minor.”

Samwell flinched.

“Do I need to write the letter?” Daisuke asked.

“I hardly think that would make sense on our timeline,” Codswallop muttered. “Not to mention, sharing confidential financial information with a well-known outlaw with no true connection to the family would be simply unthinkable.”

“All right,” Daisuke said quietly with a little nod. “I think I got yer number.” He turned to Samwell. “This guy’s full of shit.”

Codswallop threw up his hands. “Write your letter if you like! But do not be surprised if you receive no response.”

“I’d be shocked if I did,” the gunman chuckled.

“I worry that this arrangement is a danger to your family, Master Samwell.”

“NOW you’re worried about that?” Samwell exclaimed.

“I am disturbed to see these… miscreants getting involved in your family’s business and finances.” He frowned. “And perhaps I will need to take steps to protect you and your assets.”

“I – I think it’s a bit late now. It’s just two months,” Samwell argued.

An egg arced up from the second floor window and splatted down right next to Codswallop, splattering all over his pants.

“Good heavens!” Codswallop shouted. “I… I will be in touch, young Master Samwell. We will speak in your office next time.” He hurried away.

Daisuke whistled and looked back at the window to see a few heads disappearing. “Gonna have to see who threw that, that’s good aim right there.”

“Do you know anything about finances?” Samwell asked cautiously.

“…Nah, I’m bad with money. Lost more’n I ever got. Just figured you could use some moral support.”

“Moral… support?”

“For as much morals as I got, anyway.” He flashed a lazy smile. “Y’know who’s good with money, though? Onion over there.”

Samwell looked over. Onion was leaning on the wall smoking his cherry tobacco.

“…You said Codswallop was… lying?”

Daisuke shrugged fluidly. “All I know is he’s buryin’ you in problems without a single solution, other than leave it to him.”

“That’s… just how finances are, there are always more problems to be solved,” Samwell muttered.

“Mm-hm. Your dad like it that way?”

“…No. He was always… frustrated about it.”

“Listen, I dunno how all that works. But Onion does. Makes it look easy. Loves it, even. All sorts in this world, I guess. Good on you for wantin’ to be able to do it yourself, tryin’ to sort all that out, but we hate to see you goin’ through it like you are.” He awkwardly patted Samwell’s shoulder. “We wanna help you out all we can.”

Samwell stared at him. “That’s… that’s not your job, though. You keep saying it’s your job, it’s not.”

“Makin’ it our job, then.” He shrugged, sharp eyes challenging him to keep arguing. Samwell looked away first.

“Push, Johnwell! You’re not helping!”

Haunch paused on his way to the kitchen, wondering if there was another way. Only if he went all the way outside and around the house. Setting his jaw, he walked into the dining room. The six younger boys looked up from where the massive dining table was on its side.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked.

They looked at each other, then at him.

“What does it look like?” Roywell asked.

“Looks like we’re not havin’ dinner in here tonight.”

A couple of them shrugged, and they went back to pulling it over. Tipping it hadn’t been too hard, but they were struggling to turn it fully upside-down. He watched for a while as they heaved at the heavy table.

“Don’t it come apart?” he asked.

“No, it’s a whole tree,” Roywell grunted.

“Grandfather’s great-grandfather cut it down himself,” said Wealwell wistfully. “It used to be even taller than this…”

Haunch whistled in appreciation. The table was at least thirty feet long, five feet wide, and at least six inches thick. “…Okay, move over.”

The boys stepped back, watching warily while Haunch went over to the middle to give it an experimental push. “Yeah, that’s a whole-ass tree.”

Maxwell giggled.

“A whole-ass tree,” Hatwell repeated softly.

He gave it a hard shove with his whole weight, and it only rocked a little. “Pretty simple solution here. Just need a lever system.”

“I don’t think we have that,” Blanewell said slowly.

“Nah, you can make it outta anything. You got any crowbars around?”

They stared at him blankly.

“Guess not. Uh… Long metal rods. Don’t have to be that long, just… maybe as long as my leg. Could even do wood, if it’s strong.”

“We’ve got… fire pokers,” Roywell said doubtfully.

“Well… Place like this, they might be solid iron.” Haunch shrugged. “We’ll give ‘em a try. Go get as many as you can find.”

The boys ran off and Haunch laughed to himself. He went to the kitchen where Maxwell was dragging out a whole set of fire pokers, nodded to the staff apologetically, and got himself a chunk of ham from a few days ago.

“Not a good idea,” muttered one of the cooks.

“Prob’ly not,” Haunch agreed, and followed Maxwell back out to the dining room. “All right,” he said when they had all come back with fire pokers. “Next we’ll need… some bricks or rocks or something.”

They looked around uncertainly.

“Nothing useful in this whole damn house,” Haunch sighed. “…And no rocks right outside the house, right?”

“No, we don’t just have rocks lying around,” Blanewell said scornfully.

“Oh, too good for rocks, okay,” Haunch muttered. “Well now you need ‘em and you don’t got ‘em. Uh… Okay, everybody find something heavy and strong, about yea big.” He made a circle with his hands a little smaller than Maxwell’s head. “Something that won’t break! And hard edges, nothing round!”

They ran off again and he leaned against the table, eating his ham and taking a sip from his flask. He tried the lock on the wine cellar now and then, but couldn’t get it to open. Not for the first time, he thought he should learn to pick locks.

The boys came back after a few minutes with pieces of steel armor, statues, and in one case…

“…That glass?” Haunch shook his head. “It’ll break.”

“It’s a diamond,” Wealwell said, holding the gem with both hands.

“…That’s not a diamond. They don’t come that big.”

“Oh, I’ll just tell Kolthwaite Gotch if his ghost ever comes back to haunt us.” Wealwell smiled. “He was quite sure.”

Haunch came up and Wealwell held it up for him to examine. It was a little rough, not a perfect cut, but it was at least some kind of crystalline gem, not glass. “…Huh. Okay. Well if it breaks, that’s on you.”

“If it breaks, that’s on the floor,” Wealwell corrected him. Hatwell pushed him into Johnwell.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Haunch growled. “You wanna fight, or you wanna flip this table?”

“The table!” Roywell said immediately.

“Okay! Here’s what you’re gonna do. Everybody pick a table leg on the floor, spread yourselves out, and put your rock – your heavy thing – next to it. I’m gonna push it so it lifts up a little. Hopefully enough. Then you’ll get your fire poker and get ready, and I’ll push up again and you can stick it in between.”

“Then what?” asked Maxwell, leaning forward.

“We flip it. Get your rocks ready. And for fuck’s sake, watch your fingers. Keep ‘em on the sides and get ‘em out fast ‘cause anything that gets stuck under a table leg gonna have to be cut off.” He patted his belt knife. Their eyes widened.

“He’s joking,” muttered Blanewell.

“Oh no I’m not. Seen it happen all the time. Monty leaves that outta the books.” He chuckled darkly. “So you’ll have to be careful. Ready?”

Roywell, Hatwell, and Wealwell nodded. Maxwell, Johnwell, and Blanewell looked nervous, so they shuffled around a bit so that Blanewell and Hatwell were next to each other, Maxwell and Wealwell, and Johnwell and Roywell.

“All right. Ready? One… two… three!” Haunch heaved the table up and managed to hold it for a second. “Coming down, move your hands!” he called before letting go, breathing hard. “Everybody in one piece?”

“I got the fire poker in too!” Roywell said excitedly.

“So did I!” said Wealwell.

“Nice! Efficient, I like it. Still gonna have to make sure they don’t fall out of place. One more time, everybody else got your pokers? One, two, three!” He lifted. “Quick, now! Letting go!” He exhaled heavily as it dropped. “Okay. We all good?”

All six had their pokers in place more or less.

“All right. Now. I’m taking a break.” He sat down against the table, sighing and rubbing his shoulder. “What we’re gonna do, is you’ll all push down hard as you can on your levers, and that’ll lift it up. And I’ll push from the middle, and hopefully that’ll get it over.”

“How heavy is it?” Maxwell asked softly.

“Too heavy for a damn table,” Haunch sighed, stretching and flexing. “Gimme a minute. I’m gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“Because you’re getting old,” Johnwell suggested.

“Yeah okay, you try movin’ that thing by yourself and see how you feel,” Haunch grumbled. “I’m the youngest one on the crew apart from Marya.”

“I could do leverage, I think,” Wealwell said thoughtfully.

“Sure, kid.” Haunch laughed tiredly. After a few minutes he stood up again and stretched. “All right. Ready to flip this thing?”

They all nodded eagerly, running back to their places.

“Okay, get ready. You’re gonna push down on your pokers, hard as you can. Don’t hold back, I need all the help I can get. When it goes over, get away from it. Ready? One, two, three!” He gave a mighty shove, and the Gotches pushed down on their improvised levers as hard as they could. The table creaked and tipped, and Haunch threw his shoulder into it. Slowly it began to tip.

“Back, get back!” Haunch called out, grabbing Johnwell and pulling him back as the others scrambled away. With a deafening crack the table fell with the ancient legs up. Haunch exhaled and dropped to a crouch while the boys cheered.

“…We’re never gonna get that thing up again,” he panted.

The boys were gone. Comfrey ran in with the others.

“Haunch, what the fuck’s going on here!?”

He shrugged, breathing hard. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Chapter Text

“Well. I guess we’re all having a picnic for the time being, isn’t that fun?” Van said stiffly, glaring at Haunch as they looked at the overturned table.

“I told you, it wasn’t my idea,” he grumbled.

“You’re the adult!” she snapped. “You just went along with it? You helped!?”

“Comfrey was complainin’ I wasn’t doin’ enough with the kids! Thought I could help out!”

Van sighed in frustration. “Fine. Well I looked at that thing, we’re never getting it upright again unless we saw it in half. …Maybe three pieces.”

“Sure, then we can sand it up real nice and it’ll be better to sit at,” he agreed. “This is a good thing!”

“You’re fucking lucky Samwell wasn’t more pissed. I woulda kicked you outta my house right then.”

“Like I said, it was the kids’ idea! They had it on its side already when I came in. …Oh, hey, they’ve got a diamond in here big as my fists.” He clasped them together. “Wealwell’s got it. You gotta see it.”

“That’s… I –“

Something tapped the window. They turned to see a large, ornate metal helmet dangling by a rope.

“What the bloody…” Van walked over and peered up, but couldn’t see from that angle. She paused. “…Hey, take a look at this.”

“What?” Haunch walked over but hung back.

“Here. You gotta see up there.” She unlocked the window and opened it up.

He stared at her, but she nodded and gestured for him to look.

“This’s a trap,” Haunch muttered.

“Might wanna check it out, then. Before someone –“

Haunch cautiously stuck his head out the window and looked up just in time for a raw egg to splat into his forehead. Van’s laugh echoed through the halls as she stepped back.

“You think you’re so funny,” Haunch growled, wiping his face. “You plan this with the little terrors?”

“Course not! Had no idea! …Figured they had something planned, though.” She laughed, wiping her eyes. “Guess we’re not havin’ eggs for breakfast.”

“You have a good flight?” Onion asked when Samwell and Daisuke came back in.

Samwell took a deep breath. “Yes. …I’ve been told you… you…” He swallowed and frowned. “I’ve been told you were a criminal, actually. Bank fraud. That no one would hire you.”

Onion laughed, and the other Wind Riders joined in. “No denying that. But I’ll say, they didn’t catch me until I decided to do so much damage they couldn’t miss it. Financial security could use some work.”

“So you’ll understand why I’m reluctant to ask for any assistance.”

“Oh absolutely. And I’m leaving it up to you if you want it. I do think I could help, but…” He shrugged. “You’re practically an adult. I’m not here to make you do anything.”

“Onion here’s as good in the banks as I am in the skies,” Comfrey said, winking at Samwell. “And I’ll tell you, if he’s working for you, your accounts will be airtight and always earning!”

“…Because of all the fraud?” Samwell asked slowly.

“I wouldn’t say we’re always earning, but a strong budget keeps us in the black.” Onion shook his head. “No fraud these days. I work with Van and the others, keeping track of inventory and expenses and all that. Of course I imagine your accounts are much more complex than a single ship. Haven’t had a good challenge since I worked for the Intercontinental Bank HQ back in the day.”

“…Back when you did commit fraud.”

Onion shook his head. “You know a bit about banking. Loans. Interest and fees. Things preying on the customers who depend on them. I won’t pretend I had any higher morals in mind, but I didn’t think I was doing anything worse than they were, and I stand by that.”

“It just seems like you’d have… more to take advantage of with my accounts than you currently do.”

“I see your point. Here’s what I’ll say: I’m not touching anything in your accounts. I won’t look at anything you don’t offer. And I won’t make any changes to anything. You’ll be doing that if you want. I’ll walk you through it.”

Samwell eyed him cautiously.

“I can go along if you want,” Daisuke offered. “…Prob’ly should.”

“I… I’m not sure that’s… helpful, having a notorious thief keeping an eye on another thief.”

“Not offerin’ as a thief, offerin’ as your guardian. I’ll prob’ly fall asleep anyway.” He shrugged.

“…I can’t fight the law, but I don’t need your help,” Samwell muttered.

“No, reckon you don’t. I’ll tell you, though. It’ll wear you down pretty quick, havin’ nobody to rely on but yourself. Anyway, like I said, I’m no help with money. Moral support, right?”

“If you want anybody else to join us, I’ll leave that up to you,” Onion offered.

Daisuke eyed him and stepped back. “You’re gettin’ twitchy there. Think about it. No pressure. We ain’t here to fence you in. Let us know.”

Onion nodded in agreement. “Let me know. Don’t have to start right now, take a break. You don’t do your best math when you can’t think straight.”

Samwell took a deep breath and nodded. “I – I’ll let you know.”

“Hey.”

Johnwell looked up guiltily from the icebox.

“Hungry?” Samwell asked.

“Um… yes. …No. I…”

“What are you doing?”

“We were, um… playing a game.”

“Can you not use all the eggs?”

Johnwell quickly closed the icebox.

“What about fruit instead? We’ve got all those apples that nobody eats. As long as we’re not throwing them at people.”

Johnwell lit up. “We’re not! Do you want to come?”

Samwell grinned. “I’ll carry them.”

Johnwell led the way to the third floor gallery where the other five were hovering around a window. They looked up when Johnwell returned, and looked both excited and cautious when Samwell followed him.

“Who threw the egg before?”

“Which one?” Blanewell asked.

“…The one at Codswallop. How many eggs have you thrown?”

“I did,” Roywell said. “I wanted to hit his face.”

“It was a good throw. …Daisuke said so.”

“Are we being nice to them now?” Hatwell complained.

“I… I guess,” Samwell said slowly. “I am, anyway. As long as they’re treating us well. If they’re not, we can still destroy them. But… I think they are actually helping.”

“So we have to stop doing things to them?” Blanewell asked reluctantly.

“I mean… not completely.”

“They, um… some of them… like it,” Blanewell said. “Sometimes.”

“So it’s – that’s fine. As long as nobody’s getting hurt. I think they’re okay with it, and… that’s fine with me.” Samwell went to look out the window. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re throwing things, and Sylvio’s shooting them!” Maxwell said eagerly. “He’s really good!”

“Are you out of eggs at last?” Sylvio called from far below.

Samwell put down the basket and hurled a dark red apple out the window. It exploded into mush with a crack and the boys cheered.

Over the next few days they fell into a routine. They’d do something active in the mornings, a mix of playing games and learning martial arts from the Wind Riders. Maxwell was enthusiastically learning boxing and wrestling, and Samwell was getting into kickboxing. Then after lunch they were left to their own devices. At night they’d tell stories (Sylvio did the best voices) or set off fireworks on the lawn or catch fireflies. Some of them would creep up to the roof to silently watch the sunset with Daisuke. They learned some constellations from Monty and some navigation from Marya and Comfrey.

Monty had stayed up late in the library one night, reading an old field guide to minerals found in the Kabillian Isles. At last he stretched and put it back on the shelf, heading out into the hall. He heard a soft footfall and stopped immediately. Everything was still. His sharp eyes scanned the dark hallway. Was that a statue silhouetted by the window? He stepped closer.

Wealwell stood perfectly still, watching him. He jolted a bit.

“Oh! Wealwell, what are you doing?”

“Standing.” Wealwell smiled. “You have sharp eyes.”

“Well, I am something of a tracker,” he chuckled. “Now, you should be in bed! Did you need something?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then let’s get you to bed.”

“But this is when I get all my best standing done!” Wealwell complained. “No one’s here to interrupt.”

“Nevertheless! Bed time. You’re a growing boy. Practice your… your horizontal stance under the covers.”

“Oh,” Wealwell murmured, eyes widening. “I didn’t even think of that! You’re my favorite today!”

“Well thank you! Now –“ Wealwell was already walking away. “All right! Good.”

There was another noise, this one from outside. He frowned and slipped down the stairs and out the door. The Zephyr’s friodynamic balloons were activated, and he could hear sounds from inside. He jogged over and climbed aboard just as Comfrey came out of the cabin.

“Taking a little midnight jaunt?” he asked lightly.

“Oh! Monty. Yeah, just taking a ride. That place is so stuffy.”

“Mm. It certainly can be. It was nice to see you joining in on the navigation lesson the other night.”

“Well, the Kid knows her stuff but that’s always been my specialty,” she chuckled. “Wasn’t gonna leave those kids thinking I don’t know my stuff.”

Monty frowned slightly. “I don’t think they assumed that…”

“Well, you know how they are sometimes.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes. I might. But they’re children. Each full humans in their own right! But still developing.”

“Well, let ‘em develop, that doesn’t impact me.”

“Cadswitch thought otherwise.”

“Cadswitch gave ‘em to Daisuke for some reason.” She shook her head. “Damned if I thought he’d be off hidin’ from every one of ‘em. That man’s never talked to a child in his life. And he’s out there bringing them up to watch the sunset with him, giving life advice, protecting them from the bloodsuckers at the bank… I don’t get it.”

“Well… we all contain multitudes,” Monty said softly. “But Cadswitch specified all of us. Daisuke was just the one to sign off on the papers. You’re the one he mentioned by name in the bequest. Comfrey Macleod and her Wind Riders, I believe it was.”

“Yeah, last time he makes that mistake,” Comfrey snorted.

“I… I’ll admit I had my doubts, but I’m beginning to think perhaps it wasn’t a mistake. On anyone’s part. And you know, I truly admire how he’s bonding with them, especially young Samwell, who could use all the guidance he can get.”

“He’s the oldest, you know how every oldest Gotch turns out,” Comfrey muttered. “Just like his dad in no time, you’ll see.”

“That’s quite unfair to him.”

“Nah, Maxwell might turn out okay, now that his dad’s out of his life. The rest?”

“Really Comfrey? Sweet little Johnwell? Quick-witted Blanewell? Young Roywell’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“I notice you’re not mentioning the worst two.”

“The worst?” Monty laughed in disbelief. “Wealwell and Hatwell are simply two opposing forces. It’s their age and their experience in life, nothing more. Wealwell is as inscrutable a person as I’ve ever met, and Hatwell has boundless energy that’s just looking for the right outlet.”

“That’s not what I’m seeing.”

“Well, perhaps that’s because you’re holding them at arm’s length, the way you did with Hutch.”

Silence descended around them.

“Hutch made his choice,” she said stiffly. “I’m respecting it.”

“He made his choice because you made yours.”

Her jaw tightened. “We’re not talking about my family here, Monty.”

“…No. I suppose we’re not.”

They stared each other down.

“I’m going out. You should probably get back to babysitting.”

“If you’d make an attempt, you’d find it’s really quite rewarding spending time with them, Comfrey.”

“I’ve wasted more than a month stuck here with Longspot’s brats, I’m sick of being anchored!” Her voice rose. “I need to be in the sky, Monty! I’m going out of my mind, touching the ground so much! I thought more of you would see it my way. Maybe I need to rethink my crew.”

Monty’s eyes hardened. “…Maybe you need to clear your head,” he said in a low voice. “Because you know that’s not how you feel.”

“Well… get off my ship so I can clear it,” she muttered, turning away.

“…I’ll get off our ship. And I’ll see you in the morning. Get some rest, Comfrey, it might help.” He stalked away and swung down off the Zephyr, back onto the ground. He didn’t look up as he stalked back into the manor. He didn’t see seven heads peering through the open library windows.

“We could just kill her,” Hatwell suggested.

“We’re still not killing anyone,” Samwell muttered. “That doesn’t mean we have to put up with talk like that.”

“So you’re kicking her out?”

“I… I don’t think I legally can, but I don’t know how many of them would go if I did. Or if she just left. And I know you’re having fun Hatwell, we can all see it.”

Hatwell glared at him resentfully.

“I don’t know what she’ll do. Or what the others will do. But we’ve got two months, and then… back to school. And work, I guess. And… things will go back to normal.”

“It’s the farthest thing from normal,” Wealwell said. “I don’t want it back to normal.”

Maxwell stepped a little closer to Wealwell. “Me either.”

“Well it’s… I mean it’ll obviously be different. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen but you’ll all go back to school, that’s all been taken care of in Father’s will at least, so most of the year –“

“While you lock yourself in Father’s office and get horrible, and then when we get home next summer you’re either dead or you’re… not you,” Roywell said, staring him down in the dark library.

“Okay,” Samwell snapped. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it out. For now, we’re going to bed. That’s all we can do right now. Okay?”

The others murmured reluctant assent and crept back to their rooms.

Chapter Text

“I appreciate you letting me help you out,” Onion said, following Samwell into the office. Daisuke strolled in behind them and looked around before going to lounge on one of the broad windowsills.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Samwell muttered.

“That’s why I appreciate it. Hope I can do you some good here.” Onion looked at the piles of paperwork and gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot. No wonder you look like death warmed over every time you come out of here.”

“That ain’t even all, you know Codswallop’s gonna bring more by next time he thinks he can get away with it,” Daisuke muttered.

Samwell’s shoulders tightened. “He’s managing it.”

“Then why’s he keep heapin’ all this on you?”

“Because I – I asked. I… Father said you should always know what’s going on with your accounts, and… I thought that was good advice.”

“It is,” Onion agreed. “Especially when you’ve got all kinds of inheritance issues clogging up the flow. Let’s start broad. What’s your organization system here? Are you going by time, by source, by –“

“It’s… This side is Father’s, this over here is Grandfather’s. These are… either both, or I’m not sure. Then it’s by… source, I guess? Accounts, investments, statements… Assets, income, expenses, all that -”

“All right,” Onion cut in. “Lots to look at here. Now I know you’re more familiar with your father’s accounts. Do you want to start there, or look at these troublemakers in the middle?”

“I… I guess Father’s,” Samwell said quietly, hands behind his back.

“Good.” Onion turned to him. “So we’re going to start with the basics. Nothing tricky today.”

“I know the basics,” Samwell muttered. “I’ve studied this for years.”

“I know. I believe you. But I’m unfamiliar with your accounts. So first off, what’s your long-term financial goal?”

Samwell blinked. “Um. You mean…”

“Anything. A point you’d like to get to, where you feel like you’ll know you’ve succeeded financially. And how you’d like to get there.”

“I… W-well to begin with I just need to make sure… we’re earning enough to continue our life here. I want to make sure we’re all able to… reach adulthood and have… good lives. Make sure my brothers get to finish their education, to start with.”

“I notice you’re leaving yourself out of that bit. Figure you’re finished?”

“Do I have a choice?” Samwell scoffed.

“Of course you do! Fella like you? No problem.”

“…How? With all this to manage?”

“That’s what your financial advisor is for. …And I appreciate you want to keep a hand in it. Might have to cut back on your extracurriculars a bit, but there’s no reason you couldn’t keep going to school as much as you want.”

“I… okay.” Samwell shifted from one foot to the other, clenching his hands behind his back. “I… I’ll probably… want to reconsider my investments – is this a conflict of interest or something? Because you’re in debt to me now, don’t forget.”

Onion put up his hands. “Not touching anything. Take it easy. We’re just looking at what’s here, and we can stop any time you want. You’ve got a lot on your plate, let’s leave the future for another day.” He paused. “Let’s back up. Tell me about your father’s goals, and his methods, so I know where you’re coming from here. And we can look at anything relevant along the way.”

Samwell’s shoulders relaxed a little. This, he knew. “Father said it was vital to always be earning. Between currency inflation and the current market, falling behind was always a concern. His goal was constant advancement. He said if you have an endpoint, that’s as far as you get.”

“Mm.” Onion rubbed his chin. “That’s certainly a view. How ‘bout his methods? All I really know is he didn’t care for Cadswitch’s investment choices, and he was getting into real estate.”

“Yes – he was concerned that Grandfather was losing money on investments that never generated any returns back to him.” He paused, eyeing Onion, but the older man nodded for him to go on. “Exploration didn’t make us money. Inventions were better, they could be patented and sold, but it wasn’t… reliable. So Father’s been – had been – investing in real estate. Because it’s lucrative and reliable. There’s always more. There’s always a need. …So there’s always income being generated.”

“Mm. All right. That’s a starting point for us, then.”

“I –“ Samwell began, then stopped, trying to see past Onion’s inscrutable calm. He hadn’t talked to Onion enough to know how much he was hiding. One more thing to figure out in here. “Okay. What next?”

“Let’s look at the older stuff, what you’re most familiar with. We’ll build up to the newer things.”

Samwell nodded stiffly and dug out Father’s various savings accounts. He hesitated, then slowly laid them out on the desk.

Onion nodded. “Would you mind walking me through it? I want to understand, but more than that, I want to know what you understand. …Because I know you have a good handle on it, especially at this end, but I want us to be on the same page.”

“…That’s going to take a while,” Samwell said, glancing over at the stacks.

Onion shrugged. “I’ve got time. This isn’t something I want to rush. Let’s take our time and do it right.”

Hatwell crept through the house looking for Wealwell. He was always standing somewhere stupid, slithering around, hiding in the most ridiculous spots… He was too tall, taller than Hatwell and Blanewell, about to pass up Roywell and Samwell, and that was just not how things should be. Maxwell and Johnwell at least had the decency to be shorter. And honestly, that was the least annoying thing about Wealwell.

He'd checked the secret passages and run through all the rooms of the manor without spotting his brother, and none of the others were any help. One day he’d find Wealwell’s secret spots, and then he’d be sorry.

But sometimes he went outside. Hatwell had found him doing weird poses in the rose garden, or up on the huge stone walls. He ran through the hedges and the gardens, looking for his brother. Nothing. Would he have gone into the woods? Down the lawn?

…No, he’d mentioned sneaking onto the Zephyr at night. Apparently the Wind Riders were too dumb to keep him out. How much would it cost them to get a working lock? If he threw up all over their ship, that was their own fault.

Hatwell slunk up the gangplank and onto the ship. He went up to the steering cabin first. The door was locked, and it was dark inside. No sign of his worst brother.

…If it wasn’t locked, maybe he could have figured out how to fly it up. Marya had been careful not to show them that part.

There was a light in the main cabin, and Hatwell was as quiet as he could be as he crept up. The windows were a little fogged up, and there was stuff piled up around them so he couldn’t see in, but there was someone in there. His fingers closed around the doorknob and it turned. He grinned.

“I’m gonna break you in half!” he yelled, throwing the door open.

“Gotch damn!” Comfrey Macleod shouted, jumping back from the table. “What the hell, kid!”

“Oh.” Hatwell’s face fell.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Well I… don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody so disappointed to see me.” Comfrey laughed uncomfortably. “Mad, sure. Not just let down like that! You, um… looking for someone else?”

“My brother,” Hatwell muttered, then clarified. “Wealwell.”

“Oh, that one.” She laughed a little more naturally. “Nah, he’s not here. You know how much I kick him outta here?”

“He’s so annoying,” Hatwell muttered.

“He sure is,” Comfrey agreed. “I don’t know what I’d do with seven brothers like that. Get outta there as fast as I could, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, this isn’t one of your dumb stories, people can’t just leave.”

“Oh, ol’ Longspot really fucked you kids up,” Comfrey chuckled. “I might not be mother of the year, but at least my kid knew he could do whatever he wanted.”

“Don’t talk about my father,” Hatwell growled, taking a menacing step towards her.

“I’d rather not, believe me!” She rolled her eyes.

Hatwell charged at her and she stepped aside nimbly. “Whoa there!” He turned and threw a punch, which she caught.

“Shut up!”

“Settle down there, kid! You’re a fighter, aren’t you?”

“I’ll kill you, I don’t care what Samwell says,” he snarled.

“Yeah?” She laughed. “Try me.”

He kept going after her, punching and kicking and headbutting, missing every hit while she danced around him and caught his fists.

“There ya go! Gotta be faster than that! Come on, can’t you land one hit?”

Furious, Hatwell’s attacks grew more forceful and less coordinated.

“Hit me just one time and I’ll give you what you’re after. C’mon!”

“I’ll hit you one time and you’ll be dead!” Hatwell shrieked, charging at her. At last she grabbed his fist, stepped aside, and quickly lifted him up by the arm. She wasn’t much taller than him, but his feet dangled. He flailed and kicked out with all his force. She stepped to the side, but his sharp fist caught her in the jaw. Before he could react she had thrown him down and pinned him on the tabletop, knocking the wind out of him. She stared him down as he struggled to catch him breath and fought her iron grip.

“Nice job, kid,” she whispered, grinning wildly, and stepped back, letting go. “Let’s get outta here.”

“That’s a good variety of accounts you’ve got,” Onion said. “Someone in your position should have that diversity of income. That’s what’ll keep you in good shape, financially. That’s what’ll keep the lights on for you. And you’ve got it set up with some major interest accruing that you don’t have to do anything about. Sounds like you’re losing a little recently, but that’s normal when you start making these bigger moves like your dad was starting to do. I’m sorry to say that the inheritance process will lower your credit accrual significantly, but that’s something you can remedy over time. It shouldn’t be enough to affect things much as long as you don’t do anything financially risky for a while. …Based on this, I’d say you’re in a good place for your situation.”

“Okay.” Samwell exhaled. “Okay, that’s – good.”

“School is already taken care of, like you said. And you’ve got enough here to keep up the house and pay staff. …Which I assume would be a smaller contingent when you’re all away. Just a caretaker, I imagine?”

“I… yeah. Probably.”

“You wanna go back to school?” Daisuke asked from the window.

Samwell jumped and looked over to where Daisuke was looking out from under the brim of his hat. He’d thought the older man was asleep. “I… yes, I just thought… I was preparing for not being able to.”

“Nah, you got this far, might as well finish it up if you want. All this shit makes my head spin, but you get it. If you wanna quit, that’s different. Plenty out there that takes no schoolin’. But you do you.”

“For my part, I’d say it’d be a shame to not finish school,” Onion murmured. “Glad that’s what you want too. What do you say we take a quick break?”

“There’s so much here, can we move on?” Samwell argued, shoulders tensing.

“We could.” Onion made a face. “But if we meet every afternoon like this, with a break or two in between, we should be able to spread it out just fine so it’s not too much at once.”

“It’s not too much, I’ve been doing way more than this,” Samwell snapped.

“And that was too much at once. We’re not burying you, son, we’re helping you dig out.”

Samwell stiffened and turned on Onion. “I am not your son!” he shouted. Onion drew back. Daisuke looked up. “You don’t call me that! No one calls me that, ever again!”

“All right,” Daisuke said quietly.

“Including you!” Samwell snapped. “Get out! Both of you!”

“Didn’t mean anything by it,” Onion murmured as he headed out. “Just a figure of speech. Sorry ‘bout that. Won’t happen again.”

“Take yourself some space,” Daisuke said softly as he followed. “You know where to find us.” Samwell glared at them both and slammed the door shut.

The two shared a look as they walked away, but waited until they were heading down the stairs to speak.

“Wasn’t going for that reaction,” Onion muttered.

“Nah, I know. …He knows too, give him a little bit to settle down.”

“No hard feelings here.” Onion shook his head. “I know he’s still grieving. It takes time.”

“Yeah… I dunno if it’s all grief. He’s havin’ a tough time though, that’s for sure.”

The sound of the Zephyr starting up outside made them both look up.

“…How long you think we got ‘til Comfrey takes off for good?”

Daisuke sighed slowly. “I dunno, she’s havin’ a hard time too. I’m doin’ what I can for her, but there’s some things even ridin’ the bony pony can’t fix.”

Onion grimaced. “Don’t see why you gotta say it like that.”

“She came up with that one.” He smiled fondly.

The Zephyr rose into the sky.

“You’re kidnapping me,” Hatwell said, glaring at her. “Gotches don’t pay ransom. Father told me that.”

“Yeah?” Comfrey asked casually. “Not sure if Cadswitch woulda paid ransom on one of his. Guess it depends which one.”

Hatwell’s blood ran cold. He could maybe take her out if he caught her off-guard, which had gone disastrously thus far. …And then he’d have to try to survive a skyship crash.

…Would Samwell pay to ransom him away from this madwoman? With their uncertain finances?

“Relax, I’m not kidnapping you,” Comfrey scoffed. “You think I wanna run off with some snot-nosed rich kid? Not my idea of a good time.”

Hatwell glared at her harder.

“You mad?” She chuckled, veering south. “Wouldn’t try it again, if I were you.”

He refused to speak.

“You said you couldn’t just run off, well who’s stopping you? No Daddy around to tell you no. Did your big brother tell you to stay on the ground too?”

“I said don’t talk about Father,” Hatwell snarled.

“Yeah, I’m done talking about him. We sorted that out already.”

“Samwell doesn’t tell me what to do either,” he muttered resentfully.

“He doesn’t?” She smirked, and the ship raced upwards through the clouds. “That doesn’t sound like the Gotch family to me. Even Longspot thought he had to do what Cadswitch said.”

“I don’t care. Nobody tells me what to do.”

“You don’t bow to anybody, huh?” She cast a sly grin sidelong at him. “Me neither.”

They eyed each other for a long moment.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever we want. You said you wanted to get out of there, right? Me fucking too.”

Hatwell turned that sentence over in his mind a few times. “I never said I wanted to get out.”

“Sure you did! Said you were stuck there!”

“You said that. I just said real people can’t just fly away like in the dumb Hazardous Happenings books.”

“Ah, they’re dumbed down for kids.” She waved the thought away. “Why can’t you just go?”

“Um, because… because I live there. Until school. I’ve got a life,” he said condescendingly.

“Sure, me too!” She laughed. “Had to get off the ground to start living it! Isn’t it better up here?”

Hatwell looked around. His head hurt. “No. There’s nothing here. And anyway, I’m thirteen. I can’t just… run off and play sky pirate.”

“Okay, well if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“I don’t know. Wherever. Probably nowhere.”

“Geez, kid, where’s your curiosity?”

“Are you gonna dump me in the ocean?”

“I could. Ever been?”

“We went when I was younger. I thought it would be fun, but it was just water. I fell in the waves – I was little! – and inhaled a bunch of sea water.”

“Well, that’s how you learn to swim!”

He gave her a withering look. “I don’t need to swim.”

“Sure you do! What if you fell in the ocean!” She grinned.

“Are we done?”

“You really don’t want to go anywhere? Get away for a while?”

He glared out the window. “I wanted to punch Wealwell, but I guess he’s not here.”

“Nah, I triple-checked for him tonight.” She chuckled. “He’s an odd one.”

“He’s the worst. …So am I. That’s what you said?”

She looked over sharply. “Is there anywhere people can have a conversation where you’re not listening?”

“Do you want to dump me in the ocean?”

Her face twitched. “No,” she muttered, turning the ship around.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to your place. I’m not gonna keep arguing with somebody who refuses to see the possibilities out there.”

“Good.”

They flew back in silence, and Comfrey followed him out to make sure he went inside, then stretched and went into her quarters.

A few moments later Wealwell slipped out the door of the steering cabin and back into the house.

Chapter Text

“When are you gonna be done standing?”

“I’ll never be done standing,” Wealwell said confidently, standing perfectly balanced on the banister of the grand staircase. “Montgomery said I could stand horizontally, so now I can even stand when I sleep!”

Maxwell shifted his weight. He’d stood on the other banister for a while, but he couldn’t stand being still any longer. “I’m gonna go do something else.”

Wealwell whistled a little tune as Maxwell walked away.

Samwell was working, Maxwell didn’t want to bother him. Johnwell was reading, he didn’t feel like that right now.

Maxwell hung on the doorframe, watching Roywell and Hatwell take apart the suits of armor again to build an arch. “Can I build something?”

“We don’t have that many pieces we can use, because somebody keeps throwing them,” Roywell said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not just me, I’ve seen you do it too!” Hatwell said immediately. “And Maxwell and everybody else!”

“I don’t do it, that’s rowdy!” Maxwell protested.

“Yeah,” Hatwell said. “Rowdy like you.”

“I’m not rowdy,” Maxwell growled, balling up his fists.

“Can you two not be in the same room for two minutes without fighting?” Roywell complained. “Max, go away.”

“Why me! Hatwell’s calling me rowdy!”

“He was already here! Go bother somebody else.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Maxwell grumbled. Hatwell threw a steel glove that hit the door as he was closing it. “You’re a rowdy!” he yelled.

He didn’t want to play with Hatwell anyway, and Roywell was boring.

Blanewell was boring too, but Maxwell went looking for him anyway.

“Blanewell, do you want to go outside?”

“No, Marya’s showing me how to make invisible ink! The one they use on your little Cog Scout papers!”

Maxwell clenched his jaw at ‘little.’ “I’ll go with you!”

“No you won’t.” Blanewell sped up, so Maxwell did too.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so!”

“You can’t tell me what to do! I’ll ask Marya too!”

“She said to come alone!”

“No she didn’t!”

“She did, you can ask her!”

“You’re just being mean! I’m telling Samwell!”

“Samwell’s busy, he doesn’t want to hear your whining.”

“Then I – I’m telling… Van!”

“She doesn’t care. Bye.” Blanewell laughed and left him behind. Maxwell punched the wall and hissed in pain.

Van was stretched out in the sun on the lawn when he found her. She might be asleep, or at least just lying with her eyes closed. Maxwell stopped, suddenly unsure.

“You need something?” she asked, not opening her eyes.

Maxwell’s shoulders stiffened. “Um. Hatwell called me rowdy.”

Van chuckled. “Yeah? Why?” She cracked an eyelid.

“I just wanted to do stuff with him and Roywell, or Blanewell, and nobody’s letting me!”

“That’s all?”

“He said I throw armor, and I only did that a few times! He does it more! I said he’s rowdy, and –“ He shut his mouth quickly.

“Yeah? We’re just in a whole house full of rowdies, ain’t we lad?”

Max’s lip trembled as he dug his nails into his palms. “I’m not a rowdy.”

“Why not? I am.”

He hesitated. “You’re…”

“A Wind Rider. A pirate. And a rowdy.” She grinned. “You wanna be a rowdy, you’ll have to do more than throw some armor around.”

“I’m not a rowdy,” Maxwell grumbled.

Van sighed and rolled to her feet, cracking her neck back and forth. “C’mon kid, let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Taking a walk. You’re fidgeting so much the earth is shaking.”

“No it’s not,” he muttered, but followed her across the lawn. They went past the rose garden and across the vast expanse of manicured green grass.

Without warning, Van whirled and raised her fists. Maxwell stumbled back and belatedly raised his in response as they’d been doing in the mornings.

“Slow,” she said, grinning. She threw a gentle punch, which he only half ducked around, and she pushed his shoulder. “Sloppy. Get rowdier.”

“You… you can’t call me rowdy!”

“I’m saying you’re not rowdy enough! I’m rowdier than you any day, come on.”

“But you’re…” He stopped.

“What, your fists too soft today? All done fighting?”

“My fists are not soft!” he growled, and punched at her. She stepped into it.

“Not bad. A little more focus. Center on your target.” He punched her twice more. “There you go. Can’t let all the shit whirling around you get in your eyes. You’re calling the shots here, put it out of your mind.” He blocked her next punch. “Good. Just you and me, there’s nobody else we’re worried about.”

Maxwell punched her again. “Maybe you don’t know. Rowdy’s not a good thing.”

“Maybe you don’t know, depends who you ask.”

He stepped back, though he kept his fists up. “It’s… it means you’re… low-class,” he explained, frowning. “And violent.”

“Well? I’m low-class. And I get pretty violent sometimes.” She took a big step forward and punched his side.

“But… but you’re an adventurer and a hero, so…” He bit his lip, trying to rationalize it.

“So I can be what I want to be. I may be low-class, but I might be as rich as you.” She grinned. “I just don’t wanna be stuffy and boring about it. Rather be rowdy.”

“I… I’m not…” His shoulders tightened.

“Hey.” Her voice lowered and she dropped her fists. “You remember when you first came on the Zephyr, just before it launched?”

“W-with Grandfather,” he whispered.

“That’s right. I asked if you wanted to climb on my shoulders and see the balloons.”

He nodded, biting his lip hard.

“Want another chance at it?”

He looked up at her. “W-what?”

“C’mon, kid.” She knelt down. “You’re not that big, I can still carry you.”

He didn’t move.

“If it helps, my feet’ll be on the ground, and you’ll be on me, so really, you’re still on the ground too. …If you want.” She waited a moment, then stood up again.

Instantly he was by her side, reaching up to clutch the back of her vest. “Please?” he breathed.

She smiled and knelt down again. “Okay, watch my head. Leg on each side, there you go. Now sit up straight, you gotta balance yourself or you’ll tip over. Here we go.” She stood up carefully, and he sat up as straight as he could. She began to walk.

“Good posture up there. You’d make your brother proud.”

He held onto her head, swaying with every stride she took. It wasn’t like riding a horse or a bicycle, but she kept her pace steady and he picked up the rhythm.

“You wanna see the balloons?”

“I… I’ve seen them.”

“Okay, then.”

“But I could look again!”

“Sure, we’ll look again.” She laughed, turning towards the Zephyr. “All right, now lean forward a bit as we go up the gangplank. Don’t tip over. This is the world’s first friodynamic skyship, y’know. They’re building ‘em all like this now, because the design’s so good. Me and Comfrey came up with it. Sometimes they ice up and we get little icebergs falling to the deck, but when it’s functioning right this thing flies like a dream. …Well you’ve taken a couple rides, you know.”

They looked at the balloons for a while, then walked around the lawn for a while. She didn’t comment when Maxwell folded his arms on top of her head and rested his head on top, though it was a little harder to keep her center of gravity.

“If your brother calls you a rowdy, you can tell him that’s me, not you.”

“You’re not… mad?”

“About what, being rowdy?” She laughed. “Nah, I’m all rowdy.”

“I’m not supposed to be,” Maxwell whispered.

“Who says?”

He didn’t answer.

“…Somebody who’s not here?” she guessed quietly.

He didn’t speak.

“I’ll tell you what, kid. Lots of people try to tell you who you are. And they’re not always right. Even people close to you. Happened to me all the time. Still does, sometimes.”

“Do you punch them?”

“Sometimes.” She laughed. “Mostly though, I just don’t care. They don’t know nothin’ about me, they’re nothing to me, why should I care?”

“…Hatwell knows me,” he muttered.

“Yeah, he’s just doing it to get a rise outta you. Takes a lot of practice to not let it get to you. That don’t mean you can’t stand up for yourself. Sometimes you’ve gotta punch somebody’s lights out, really ring their bell. But save that for the big things. …Want me to talk to Hatwell?”

“No.” He shifted.

“Right. You can deal with it. Ugh, ready to get down? I think I’m done.”

“Yeah.”

She stopped next to the manor and leaned on the wall, crouching down to let him get off. She straightened up slowly, grimacing at her aching back and shoulders before she turned back to him. She could see he was tired, probably had been from the beginning. “But hey, you ever need somebody in your corner, you know where to find me. And anyone else in this house. …Even Hatwell.”

He made a face, but couldn’t completely stop smiling. She tousled his hair. “C’mon, we’re gonna do some stretching. You’re bigger than I thought, just about broke me in half.”

“Okay Brycewell, come on!” Marya called when he came to the door. They were out in a potting shed that was protected from the elements, but with the windows open and a breeze flowing through.

“It’s Blanewell.”

“No, I am talking to Brycewell today.” She pulled out a piece of parchment with an intricate letterhead for the LaMontgommery Cog Scout Club. There were little stylized animals, plants, and cogs throughout the design. The rest of the paper appeared to be blank. “Now, Mr. Brycewell! Are you a Cog Scout?”

“No, I’m too old for that,” he scoffed.

“Oh, okay Grandpa.” She snickered. “Well look, this contains a hidden message. Maybe you saw your brothers’ things?”

“Maxwell and Johnwell do that, I don’t pay attention.”

“Because you are too cool and old, I understand.” She nodded sympathetically.

“Well do you do it?” he asked, glaring at her.

“No, because I am… A lot of it’s based on things we discovered, and it’s kind of weird to be really into something like this when I was kind of a founder.”

“I thought this was more like… nature for kids.”

“Oh, look who knows all about it!” She laughed. “Sorry, sorry! I’ll stop. So there’s a message here, written in invisible ink. And you will certainly not know that Monty uses a few different inks. Nothing fancy at all! They’re all made from basic household items. It’s a matter of chemistry. Not my field of expertise, but still interesting! Your grandfather thought so too, he loved seeing what little tricks Monty came up with for the Cog Scouts.”

“I know.” He paused. “He… he was interested in all kinds of weird things. We were always getting gifts from someplace you were exploring. …Or other adventuring groups too. It’s not just you.”

“No, I know! It’s great that there are others. But they cannot do it with style the way we do! She plunked a few bottles on the table in front of them. “So! This one uses milk. It has to have enough fat in it to work, none of these skinny milks that are mostly water! You can see a bit of crust on the paper, but it’s hard to read. But rub a pencil lead over it…” She did so, and words appeared. “There! ‘Greetings, Cog Scouts! This is Montgomery LaMontgommery, Adventurer of Gath!’ This one is a little slow, you write with milk and then you have to let it evaporate and dry, and then you can color over it.”

“That’s… too simple.”

“Well that one is not really chemistry, so much as… I don’t know, some kind of biology?” She shrugged. “I mostly know machines.”

“So why are you showing me this?”

“Because it’s cool! It’s sneaky! I thought you’d like it!” She smiled. He stared at her. “Okay, let me show you a couple better ones, that one isn’t great. …There’s also one you can do with a white wax crayon, it’s similar, but it’s not very good. We won’t bother with it. Here.” She took a box of baking soda and poured some in a little bowl, then poured in some water and mixed them together. “That is baking soda, and we are making it into a thin paste.” She took a cotton swab and dipped it in, then swiftly wrote a word. “…We still have to let it dry. We can put that aside and make the other one.” She poured a little lemon juice into another bowl, and offered him a cotton swab and a fresh piece of paper. “You write something.”

Blanewell paused to think, then carefully wrote a word of his own.

“Nice! And now this must dry too. …Not too long, it was not a lot of liquid.” She turned to him, smiling. “So, tell me about school. I’ve never been.”

He blinked, eyes wide. “You’ve… never been to school? That’s impossible, even poor people have to go to school somewhere.”

“Oh, okay King Brycewell.” She rolled her eyes. “I grew up with nothing, so I am stupid and poor.”

“No, I – I meant I know you can… read and do math and… and you make all kinds of things! You’re… very intelligent! You know a lot!” he said quickly. “How did you not go to school?”

“Well it was less formal in Scrapsylvania. The adults taught us to read and write and do sums. We learned harder lessons in the mines. I was very quick, so I got to learn some more difficult things, and… from there, I leapt out on my own. I didn’t know that there were books and books of things you can do with math. I just made it do what I wanted it to do. It took some work, but it is like catching a flailing cable and then coiling it into the shape you need.”

He was staring at her.

“And then the machinery – we had lots of machines in Scrapsylvania, we are famous for them! And there are plenty of tinkerers. When I finished my work for the day, I would go to watch them. When I learned how they made things, I began to make my own little creations. And then it was a lot like the math, but with bits of scrap. I envisioned what I wanted, and I made it come to life. The first time Comfrey came through, I was very young. I was learning to do things, but couldn’t do much yet. I had never even heard of a skyship! But I got to see it take off, and my heart took off with it! I knew that was what I wanted to work on. So that is all I did until the day she returned. I worked in the mine, and I worked on machinery. And then I learned to fly.” She sighed in complete satisfaction.

“You’re… really smart.”

“Thank you! I am. So tell me about your school! I have heard about other schools, mostly ones that you go to every day and then go home. But you go and live there for months!”

“Yeah. It’s… well it’s mainly for wealthy families, though… there are scholarship students too. They have to be the smartest in the class, pretty much. Um. So we get a dormitory bed, we share a room with a few other boys – more when we’re little, and just one or two when we get older. We… go to classes, then go back to our rooms. There are adults around to keep an eye on us, but we’re left to amuse ourselves a lot, as long as we get our homework done. There are lots of extracurricular activities and clubs you can join if you want.”

“Yeah? What do you like to do?”

“I – well I’m in a forensics group, I’m an alternate on the debate team, I played oboe for a while, I play lacrosse sometimes… a few others…” He looked over at the papers.

“Interesting! What others are there?”

“Um, there’s… lots of sports. I’m not in choir, I don’t like to sing. There are some service groups… Lots of different honors societies, I’m in a couple of those. Model Congress, I’m in that too. Then there are clubs for… things like board games, art, there’s a robotics club, a multicultural club, equestrian club, magic club…”

“Magic club! That one is for you!”

He froze like a deer in the headlights.

“Oh, no way! Really? I can see it, though. Brycewell is a great magician name!”

“I don’t talk about it,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

“Why not? Are you good? I bet you’re good at it.”

“Father didn’t – I’m okay. …I don’t do that outside of school.”

“Okay, okay. …Really, though? I’d love to see. But okay. Look, the paper’s dry! Okay, so this first one, with the baking soda, we’re going to get a cotton ball wet with grape juice.” She put a cotton ball over the top of a bottle and turned it once. “Then just lightly wipe it over.” She did so. “You can do this with any acidic liquid, but the grape juice has more color. And look! It says Blanewell! The acid of the grape juice reacts with the alkaline of the baking soda! Pretty cool, right? Now yours, we need to apply heat. So I’ve got my blowtorch.” She turned on the flame. “You want it hot, but not close enough to burn! Go ahead, hold it up.”

Blanewell cautiously held up the paper, closer and closer until a neat cursive ‘Gotch’ appeared.

“Nice!” Marya flipped off the blowtorch. “That one, the acid weakens the paper and when it gets hot it burns before the rest. You could use that in your act, I’ll bet!”

His face was red and he was staring fixedly at the paper. “I… I guess I could,” he mumbled and glanced nervously at her. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“What? No, of course I won’t. My lips are sealed. I will die with this secret, I swear it. …But your brothers would think this was really neat, I’ll bet!”

“Nooooo, it’s not neat, it’s such a weird thing to do,” he groaned. “Just don’t say anything.”

“Okay, but I think you should lean into your weird! I think it’s great! And I really would like to see it some time! I have only seen a few magicians perform, at carnivals and things like that. I won’t talk about it, I promise. …But I think it’s really cool!”

“Okay,” Blanewell muttered. “I… maybe.”

“I apologize for my rudeness,” Samwell said woodenly.

“Oh naw, don’t worry about it.” Daisuke shrugged.

“You didn’t even say anything, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.” He turned to Onion. “And you were just trying to help. …You were helping. And I know you didn’t mean anything by that, I knew it then, I just –“

“No harm done,” Onion assured him. “Won’t happen again. Or I’ll do my best, anyway. Only thing that bothers me is that you were in there letting yourself get more and more worked up until it got to that. If you need a break, take it. As often as you need. Like I said, we’ve got time.”

“I… okay.” Samwell bit his lip. “I just – even going in there makes me stressed.”

“Well that’s an easy fix.” Onion chuckled. “We take out a few stacks at a time and find a different room. The library’s got wonderful tables to spread out on. Or anywhere you like.”

“Brick that whole room up,” suggested Daisuke. “You don’t need it.”

Samwell’s eyes glazed over briefly. Father had always conducted business from his office. All his memories of the office contained lessons and criticism and stress that often had nothing to do with him.

“I… could do that,” he murmured slowly.

“Hell yeah. You say the word and we’ll get the bricks.”

Chapter Text

Sylvio strolled down the hall after lunch and headed to a sitting room with wide windows. He’d started out spending time in the library, but now that Samwell, Onion, and Daisuke took it over every afternoon he’d had to find a new spot. But he brought a book and stretched out on the velvety fainting couch by the windows.

The door opened a little, then closed. There was a soft knock.

“Come in, my friend! This is, after all, your home.” He smiled sharply.

Johnwell shuffled in, clutching a spiral-bound book and a bag of pencils. “Can I draw with you?”

“Of course!” He pulled out a tin. “Care for a… hard candy?”

Johnwell came over and picked out an orange one, smiling a little.

“I’m running low, I’ll have to ask Comfrey to pick me up some more the next time she creeps out for a jaunt.”

The boy paused and quickly offered it back.

“No no, that one is yours. I certainly can spare one for a friend.” He flashed a sinister smile and took a green one for himself. “The flavor… is to die for. Your shooting today was quite good, I must say! You are very careful, I appreciate that. What are you drawing today?”

Johnwell popped the candy in his mouth and went over to sit on the floor, opening his sketchbook. “I… I drew the lions by the gate.”

“The statues? Ah, magnificent beasts!”

“But I drew them jumping off and running away.” He held up his drawing.

“Ah, lovely! You draw the manes especially well, there is such movement there!”

Johnwell smiled and turned the page, settling down. They sat quietly for a while, breathing and turning pages and scratching lead the only sounds in the room.

“…Is your book good?” Johnwell whispered after a while.

“It’s a bit dry, to be frank.” He put it down. “Would you like to continue our story?”

“If you want,” Johnwell murmured, eyes big.

“Excellent! So, I believe he had gotten as far as the ruins of Old Frumbia…”

Johnwell scooted over to lean on the fainting couch while Sylvio told him about another adventure. He idly drew the collapsed tower as he listened to how the Wind Riders found where the ancient amulet had been stored, only to find it missing.

“We searched high and low, leaving no stone unturned, but the amulet was nowhere to be found! Our only clue was the mysterious outlaw who escaped with the Star of Utmany diamond.”

“Did you ever get it back?” Johnwell was up on the foot of the fainting couch now, leaning in.

“Well… perhaps you’ll find out someday.” Sylvio smirked, leaning back. “Another day. Is that the tower?”

“Just… what I thought it looked like.”

“It’s quite close! You’ve got the layout. You should show that to Montgomery, he would appreciate it.”

Johnwell shrank back a little. “Um. Maybe.”

“I am quite sure he would like it. …But of course that’s up to you.”

Johnwell curled up on the edge of the couch and turned the page. “Maybe.”

“Do you show your brothers your drawings?”

“Sometimes. Mostly Samwell and Wealwell. Sometimes Maxwell.”

“Ah, it’s good to have supportive family.”

“Do you… do you like your family?”

“I haven’t seen them in quite some time.”

Johnwell glanced up.

“…I wasn’t lucky enough to have a whole slew of brothers to have fun with.” Sylvio was smiling lightly, looking out the window.

“They’re not always fun,” Johnwell muttered.

“No, but they care for you. I think living with people, some conflict is unavoidable. It’s the same on the Zephyr.”

“…You didn’t like your family either?”

Sylvio glanced at him sharply. “You’re quite a… perceptive lad. Let us say that I left home a bit before the recommended age, and it was good for me. When you get out of the shadows that threaten danger around every turn… well, you’re more able to face that danger.”

“How old were you?”

“A bit older than you. Perhaps your brother Hatwell’s age.”

“But you weren’t…”

“Oh, I was quite the little scamp.” He chuckled. “I had no brothers to pester, as I said, but I still managed to be quite a menace to everyone around me. It took me a while to learn softer ways to walk through the world.”

“So maybe Hatwell will be nice when he grows up?” Johnwell asked doubtfully.

“It is entirely possible! And entirely up to him. I certainly could have made different choices, but I decided I did not want to become the kind of person I had feared.”

“You’re my favorite,” Johnwell whispered, scooting a little closer.

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to choose a favorite… but you know.” Sylvio grinned wickedly and Johnwell smiled back.

“Are we…done?” Samwell asked cautiously. “With this part, at least?”

“I think so,” Onion said slowly. “I have a better idea of the shape of things now. There are a few details missing –“

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” Samwell snapped, then cringed. “Sorry.”

“I know. I trust you. Like I said, I’m keeping my hands out of this, this is all to help you. …I’m saying there are some things that just aren’t here. Which might explain why you were struggling with it so much.”

“Then where…” Samwell shook his head. “Codswallop said he still had more things from Grandfather’s accounts. I’m not sure if he’ll bring it now, though.” He glanced over at Daisuke.

“He said he’d see you again. I think he will,” Daisuke mumbled, half asleep.

“You still haven’t heard from Cadswitch’s financial advisor?”

“No.” Samwell sighed. “I wrote again, I don’t know if she’s ignoring me or if it’s not reaching her…”

“What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

“Oh. Verity… Hold on, I’ve got it written down.” He ran out of the room.

“Codswallop full of shit?” Daisuke asked in a low voice.

“I think so,” Onion muttered. “Gotta let him get there on his own, though.”

“Here.” Samwell came back and showed Onion the note with the woman’s contact information.

“Verity Wiswold! Well hot damn. …We never worked closely together, but I know of her. Graduated Eisengeist University about ten years before me.” He squinted at the paper. “…Thought she was out in Bellenuit, though.”

“…Codswallop said Gastonet,” Samwell muttered, frowning at the note.

“Well… I could be wrong…” Onion shared a look with Daisuke. “Might be worth reaching out to Bellenuit.”

“Just… what, write a letter to the whole city and hope she gets it?” Samwell asked, fists clenching.

Onion chuckled. “We’ve got a skyship, no need for that. You look like you could use some fresh air, I know I could. What do you say we take a little field trip and get this done now?”

“…Just go to Bellenuit right now?”

“Or tomorrow. Don’t want to leave it too long, though. I’ll bet Comfrey would love to fly us there.”

Samwell looked out the window. “…Do we have time? What if she’s busy? What if she’s not even there?”

Daisuke sat up. “Figure that out when we get there. What do you say, now or tomorrow morning?”

“Uh… I guess… tomorrow?” Samwell swallowed.

“Good, then we’ll have the whole day,” Onion agreed.

“Great, I’ll talk to Comfrey,” Daisuke said. “We could all use a little vacation. …You good with that?”

“I… I just don’t usually take quick day trips to Bellenuit,” Samwell mumbled. “I guess, though. If we can… get ahold of her, if that’s what it takes, I guess we should.”

“We’ll ask around,” Onion said. “I know where to look. …And we’ll take it easy. Low-stress business trip, that’s the goal.”

Daisuke slipped away from the bonfire on the lawn that night to go up to the roof. His sharp eyes immediately caught a new silhouette up on the peak of the roof next to an old weathervane.

“Wealwell. You wanna get offa there?”

“I won’t fall.”

“Sure. Get over here.”

“I’m very good at standing,” Wealwell sighed in the tired tone of a twelve-year-old who is tired of explaining himself constantly.

“Yep, I’ve never seen you fall. You’re blockin’ the view, c’mere.”

“Oh,” Wealwell said softly, and tiptoed back across the ridge, then hopped up on top of a gable next to Daisuke.

“Settle down,” Daisuke muttered, sitting to face the sunset.

Wealwell stood tall, and began humming softly.

“You have to do that? I thought you were sneaky.”

“Only when I don’t want people to see me.”

Daisuke grimaced. “Can you wait ‘til the sun sets? All the way?”

“Oh, okay!”

Daisuke glanced at him sidelong. He stood perfectly still, watching the sunset. Slowly, the gunslinger relaxed and did the same.

“All right,” he said when the sky was fully dark. “What’s your deal?”

“Hm?”

“You’re all over the place, all kinds of weird. You stand for fun. What’s your deal?”

Wealwell shrugged, distant firelight glinting off his eyes. “What’s your deal? You’re an outlaw, you can shoot anyone, you’re helping my brother with our money?”

“Nope. Just sittin’ in for legal reasons.” He shrugged. “Mostly I nap. Onion does the work, I ain’t helping nobody.”

“You certainly ain’t helping nobody,” Wealwell agreed gravely. “Do you want our money?”

Daisuke laughed. “Kid, you know how much money’s slipped through my fingers over the years?”

“So you just want to hold our money?”

“Nah, when I get money it’s gotta be a rush. This kinda banking is a drag, it ain’t for me. Not worth any money.” He grinned and leaned in. “Y’know I got a whole fortune when I was about Samwell’s age. Little older.”

“Really?” Wealwell asked doubtfully.

“Oh yeah. Ever heard of the pirate Goldbeard? We were thick as thieves, and everything else like thieves too. Close as brothers, too. I was a hothead back in those days, just took whatever I wanted, went where I wanted, did what I wanted. He was the same. So he was mighty pissed when I pushed him off the skyship, but he woulda done the same.” He paused to check Wealwell’s bland expression. “…That was ages ago, like I said. Not gonna kill anybody here.”

“But you killed him? And you got a fortune?”

“Goldbeard’s legendary gold. Biggest treasure haul you ever heard of, all in a sea cave not on any map. …You wouldn’t believe all the ways I lost it. Gambling, betting, bad trades… Most of it warshed away in the rain,” he admitted.

“It… washed… wershed… away in the rain?” Wealwell asked slowly.

Daisuke shrugged. “Wasn’t fun anymore. I never went looking.”

“Oh,” Wealwell said softly.

“That was a big storm. Lots of things warshed away. No sunset that night.”

“There was, you just couldn’t see it,” Wealwell pointed out.

“Guess so. Does it count if I don’t see it?”

Wealwell stared at him. “What?”

“What?”

“Does the world stop moving if you can’t see the sky?”

Daisuke chuckled. “Okay. Guess the sunset don’t need me like I need it.”

Wealwell frowned and stepped down, clasping his arm. “It needs you.”

“I reckon the sun don’t care what I do. I’m just here. And that suits me fine, wouldn’t wanna have anything that big and far away thinkin’ about me. Like gods? No thanks. Wasn’t that what you were sayin’?”

“No.” Wealwell rolled his eyes. “I said it’s there, I didn’t say it thought about you.”

“Okay, my head’s spinnin’ now.”

“Well it makes perfect sense.” Wealwell suddenly frowned, letting go of Daisuke. “Take care of my brother when you go.”

Daisuke patted him awkwardly. “I will. Don’t worry. He’s a good kid. You take care of your other brothers, okay?”

“Maxwell and Johnwell,” Wealwell sighed. “The others won’t listen to me.”

“Well… the sun don’t care if people don’t listen to it, right?”

“There’s nothing to stand on in the sky,” Wealwell said seriously.

“We got a ship for that.”

The boy smiled up at him. “And you’ve got somebody driving the diamond, right?”

“…Sure, yeah.”

“Oh good. Then everything’s fine.” Wealwell grinned and slid down the ridge to go back inside, leaving Daisuke alone.

“…Weird kid,” he muttered, looking up at the sky again.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to hold onto me,” Wealwell complained, pulling away from Roywell.

“If you’d stay where you’re supposed to be, I wouldn’t have to!”

“I can be wherever I want!”

“You can’t be on the Zephyr right now, that’s the point!”

“I wasn’t going there!”

Hatwell punched Wealwell in the stomach. “Shut up!”

“Hatwell, quit it!” Roywell snapped. Maxwell shoved Hatwell hard. “Max! Stop!”

Hatwell turned on Maxwell, and Van caught him as he charged.

“All right, outside, let’s go!” she said, and the boys headed out.

“I wish they’d listen to me,” Roywell huffed.

“You’ll get there,” Van laughed over her shoulder.

“It’s easy for Samwell,” Roywell muttered, trailing after the others.

“He simply started earlier,” Montgomery said, patting Roywell on the shoulder. “I was wondering, would you care to accompany me on a walk in the woods?”

Roywell looked after his brothers, then at Monty. He didn’t think the author was taking him out to kill him, not for the past few weeks at least. “Why?”

“For the company?” Monty suggested.

“Uh… okay.” He followed Monty across the lawn. “I didn’t do anything. Nothing’s wrong.”

Monty blinked and turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t have to… talk to me.”

“All right,” Monty said slowly. “And you don’t have to talk to me. Could I ask, though, what this is in regards to?”

“You’re… pulling me away to give me a talk.”

“…Well I imagined we’d both talk a bit, but I do enjoy just listening to the sounds of the natural world if you’d prefer!”

Roywell frowned, silent until they stepped into the trees. “I don’t get how they all listen to Samwell and not me.”

“To be completely fair, I’ve noticed multiple instances where they did not listen to Samwell. That’s just human nature. Especially at their age!”

“They did what Van said right away and she didn’t even yell,” he muttered.

“Did you notice how she worded it? That’s quite important, as it turns out. She didn’t tell them to go do something, she said confidently that they were all going together. Herself included. A leader is willing to do anything they ask of others. A good ‘let’s go’ will get you far.”

“…I say that sometimes.”

“Well, it’s not foolproof. But it helps! I think they’re more used to listening to Samwell. Perhaps he asks them to do things more often than you do.”

Roywell paused, following Monty through the woods, and stopped when he crouched to look at a little patch of moss. “I guess so.”

“Have you seen this moss? Such a small population, but it’s grown incredibly tall stalks!”

“…Oh. Yeah.” Roywell bent to look as well. It was just moss. Monty examined it for a few minutes before standing again and continuing.

“It’s wonderful to see how close you all are. I’m glad you have each other.”

“We fight literally all the time.”

“But you all support each other and protect each other as well. You fight, yes, but you love each other. We fight from time to time as well. Sometimes we need space away from each other.”

Roywell made a face. “Sometimes you need space from us.”

“Certainly! Together we are a large group in an enclosed space!” He chuckled, pausing to marvel at a little red patch of lichen on a tree. “Do you see this? It’s normally found farther south. You have a lovely little ecosystem here.”

“…So why doesn’t Professor Macleod just leave?”

Monty turned to look at him.

“We heard you fighting. I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t want to be stuck here with… with Longspot’s brats either.”

Monty grimaced. “That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t say it,” Roywell muttered.

“It’s a stressful situation for all of us. And… some of us have adapted better than others. She’s having a hard time, this… is not the life she wanted, and she is doing her best to honor her commitments despite that.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, really hard to have to sit around,” he said flatly. “Who’s Hutch?”

Monty froze briefly, then turned and started walking again. “That’s her business, and not something she wants to discuss.”

“Yeah, I got that. …Is it her kid? Maxwell said she had a grandchild.”

“That she does.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“So… she’s out there hating her son, and she has the nerve to talk about our father?”

Montgomery sighed. “I would rather not talk about Comfrey’s family either, if you don’t mind, Roywell.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “…At least she left her family.”

“…We are not discussing Comfrey’s family, but we can discuss yours if you’d like.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. He’s gone. We can… fucking move on now. It’s not like any of us miss him.” He glared coldly at Monty.

“The deaths of your father and grandfather were a tragedy –“

“Don’t say both when you only mean one.”

“No, I mean both. The tragedy is the disruption of life. And I see all of you growing every day, it’s a wonderful thing. But it’s hard to leave behind what you know. Even if that was not an environment in which you could thrive.”

Roywell stared him down, and finally mumbled. “I’m glad he’s dead. We all are.”

“I didn’t know your father well. …But I certainly won’t say you’re wrong for how you feel.”

“He would’ve hated you.”

“I have no doubt.” Monty smiled slightly.

“…He hated everybody.”

“That was my impression of him.” Monty paused. “An unfortunate way to face life and humanity.”

“Samwell showed me his funeral speech. He wrote a lot about how the world would be a better place now at first. …I would’ve left it in.”

“Well… there’s a time and a place for diplomacy, and I think your brother’s gotten quite good at that.”

“He’s always trying not to make somebody mad. …At least it’s not Father anymore.”

Monty nodded, touching a fallen log. “Forgiveness is a powerful force, but there is also a time and a place for that.”

“Yeah, and it’s not here or ever.”

“Then let’s leave him in the past for the time being. Do you see that bird up there, stark black and white with a bright red throat?”

Roywell exhaled and looked up. “…Yeah. I’ve never seen one like that before, what is it?”

“I lived around here for a while,” Onion said as they walked through the financial district. Daisuke and Comfrey hung back, talking and kissing, and Samwell was trying not to look at them.

“So people know you here?” Samwell asked, holding his big cup of spiced coffee close. It smelled better than any drink he’d ever had, and it was warming up his frozen fingers after the long early morning flight.

“Well it’s been a while. I imagine there’s still a few, though.”

“You won’t be arrested, will you?”

Onion laughed. “My reputation’s not all that bad. They might think twice before hiring me, but they won’t hunt me down. Not here. …Mr. Codswallop tends to exaggerate a bit.”

Samwell frowned. “…He does make everything seem like the world’s ending.”

“And it’s not that bad. Or at least there’s always a different path to take. Nothing to despair over, we’re sorting it out.” Onion was looking at each shopfront as he walked.

“Yeah,” Samwell said quietly, and sipped his drink. It tasted as good as it smelled.

“Here we go. I’ll just be a minute.” Onion stepped into an office and lifted his hand in greeting. Samwell glanced back at Daisuke and Comfrey, laughing together, and slipped in after him.

“Nah, life’s just one big vacation nowadays,” Onion was chuckling. “I may never retire. Here on business today, but I’d love to catch up some time. …I’m looking for Verity Wiswold. Haven’t seen her in a while, but last time I knew she was here in town.”

“Can’t see her ever leaving this place,” said the man behind the desk, shaking his head. “She’s still in the office over on Gleam Street. Turn right, go two streets down, and then a left and it’s on the left.”

“Thanks so much.” Onion shook his hand. “I mean it about catching up, I want all the news. Been a little out of the loop lately. See you later.” Samwell followed him out.

“All right! Got a destination, let’s go.”

“What do you say we leave them to do business and see the city?” Comfrey murmured as they walked.

Daisuke smiled crookedly. “You know I want to. …Prob’ly need to sit in on this, though.”

Comfrey sighed. “Yeah. Sure. …You sick of this yet?”

“Honestly? This part ain’t my favorite. Not a fan of just sittin’ in a room collectin’ dust, listenin’ to somebody talk business. But that’s why I came.” He shrugged. “After, though. If we have time. City’s not my favorite place to be, but it could be fun with you.”

She pulled him in for a kiss. “I miss you.”

He deepened the kiss until he needed air. “Well shit, we got mornings, right? Take some little trips sometimes, how’d that be?”

She frowned, looking closely at him. “…I never took you for the responsible type.”

“I’m sure as hell not.”

“Okay. Fine. It’s not forever.” She grimaced, stepping a little away but keeping hold of his hand. “One last thing for Cadswitch, right?”

Daisuke ran his thumb over her fingers as they walked. “…This ain’t for him. I reckon me and him settled our debts by now.”

She looked at him closely. “…I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Daisuke sighed.

“…She’s lived here for years?” Samwell murmured to Onion.

“Sounds that way. I thought she mighta moved somewhere in there, but I guess not.”

The boy’s frown deepened as he walked, and they were silent for a while.

“…How exactly did you… commit fraud?” he asked slowly.

“Had a few different ways. It’s safest to take small amounts here and there. Made up some transaction fees, maintenance fees, things like that. Slight adjustments to the rates, not enough to set off any alarms. Anonymous accounts with official-sounding names, scattered around different banks. Just skimming off the top here and there, in accounts that wouldn’t miss it. …And then of course an increased amount in the end.”

“Do you think…” he stared slowly, then bit his lip. “…You wouldn’t know.”

“I might,” Onion said softly.

“No, I –“ He shook his head. “Codswallop always… Father got along with him better than… just about anyone. He trusted him completely, as far as I know.”

Onion nodded.

“But he – Codswallop – agreed with Father about Grandfather’s… financial practices. Maybe he’s trying to… I don’t know, fix things?”

Onion shrugged. “Did he tell you that’s what he was doing?”

“No, but… I don’t know, maybe he and Father discussed it.”

“Mm. Seems like something he should mention to you, if that’s the case. Or Daisuke, in this case.”

Samwell looked behind him and caught a glimpse of the older couple with their fingers laced together, heads bent close. He turned forward again. “…I need to talk to him.”

“Seems like a good idea.”

“…Do you trust him?”

Onion sighed. “I told you I’d be honest with you. I wouldn’t trust him with a half-mark coin.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that!?”

“Wasn’t gonna unless you asked or I saw something big. If I came in with my record and you not trusting us one bit, and said the one guy you did trust was a swindler, how would that look?” He shook his head, patting Samwell’s arm. “Let’s see what Ms. Wiswold has to say. Then you have a talk with him. …Carefully.”

Samwell’s jaw was clenched. “I’m so tired of being careful with everyone,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’ll bet. What you don’t want, though, is him freezing your accounts and taking full control because you’re an emotional child lashing out. Which you’re not,” he added quickly. “But again. Carefully.”

Samwell exhaled sharply. “I’ll kick his head right off,” he growled.

“Sure. Afterwards. Gotta keep a lid on it for now though, right? Deep breath. Got some business to take care of first.”

Samwell glared at him, then looked straight ahead, inhaling slowly. “Be reasonable. Right.”

“Right,” Onion agreed. “And reasonable for now is friendly and polite. Reasonable for later is careful. …And reasonable in the end is kicking his damn head off his shoulders.”

Samwell huffed out a laugh.

“Keep ‘em in order and you’ll be fine.” He gestured to a green door. In gold lettering on the glass, it read ‘VERITY WISWOLD, Financial Advisor, Estate Planning, and Investments.’

“This it?” Comfrey asked. She pulled Daisuke in for one more kiss. “I’ll meet you back at the ship. Don’t take too long.” She paused and nodded to Samwell. “Good luck, kid.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. The three of them stepped into the office.

“Good morning, what can we do for you today?” asked a clerk near the door.

“Oh, look at this!” A woman a little older than Comfrey walked out of the back office. “Onion St. Clay? I heard you left the finance world.”

“Not entirely.” He stepped forward and shook her hand. “Doing a little pro bono work for my client here.” He gestured and Samwell stepped up next to him, instinctively tucking his hands behind his back, but quickly reaching out to shake her hand as well. “Samwell Gotch.”

“Samwell Gotch,” she repeated, eyeing him sharply. “I’ve been waiting for you to take an interest in your family’s affairs.”

“I’ve taken an interest all my life!” Samwell exploded, pulling his hand back. “I’ve been trying to sort out all our accounts, I’ve written to you twice!” He drew back and took a breath. “…I’m sorry. I… was given the wrong address.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Samwell’s turning eighteen in September, we’re… well, you’ll know Cadswitch named the Wind Riders guardians of all the Gotch boys,” Onion murmured. “Daisuke’s here as his guardian while he’s underage.”

She looked at the gunslinger. “…You win a lot of beetle fighting wagers?”

He cleared his throat. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, come on into my office.” She led them in, and the clerk brought in a third chair which Daisuke ignored in favor of standing by the door. “…You look like your grandfather when he was younger. Same facial structure, mostly.”

“Oh. Um, thank you,” Samwell mumbled.

“Nothing you can do about that. So, first of all…” She looked around at the other two. “I know you’re a minor and these are your guardians, but are you sure you want to discuss your finances around a well-known fraudster and a notorious outlaw?”

Samwell grimaced at her blunt manner. “I know who they are. I trust them. With this.”

Onion kept his face neutral, but Daisuke smiled a little.

“All right. Up to you. Now I sent the relevant paperwork to your father’s financial adviser, Ouroboros Codswallop… and I assume he’s working for you now?”

“Yes. …Currently, yes. He’s… passed some of it on to me, I… We’ve been sorting it out, I think some might be missing, though.”

“Well then you should be contacting him. I sent him what’s yours now.”

“I… I will be, but I wanted to get in contact with you first. Can we go over what I have, and maybe you can fill in some gaps?”

She nodded slowly. “All right, if you have it all ready to examine. I have some time this morning.”

Onion watched as Samwell brought out the summaries and spreadsheets he’d made and went through what he had from Cadswitch’s accounts, keeping quiet except for an occasional small addition. Daisuke watched as well, mostly watching Samwell’s body language, listening to his tone. The hand that kept tucking behind his back reflexively was fidgeting, fingers rubbing together, picking at the back of his shirt. Sometimes he forgot to breathe for a little too long. His voice shook a little in the beginning, between nerves and anger, but as he went on it settled out and he spoke well, from what little Daisuke knew of the matter. Sounded good, anyway. Confident in what he was saying.

“Wait,” she stopped him, pointing down at the papers he’d laid out after a while. “This is wrong. And this here. That should be 0.01%, and this one should be 4.6%.”

Samwell tensed, glancing at Onion. “I copied them down exactly, Mr. St. Clay checked over everything, I –“

She was already marking them out with a green pen and replacing figures, pulling the paper to her. “So that changes things in these columns here, and we end up with… some slight differences in your totals that will add up to quite a bit before long.”

Samwell stared. “I… that’s what the paperwork Codswallop gave me said, I made sure –“

“Didn’t bring the originals along by chance, did you?” she asked, standing up.

“N-no.”

“I’ve got mine.” She went and dug through a filing cabinet.

“Doing fine,” Onion murmured, patting his arm. “This is what we’re here for. We’ll sort it out.”

“I’m going to kill Codswallop.”

“Here we are.” Verity returned with a file, and spread it out before them. “You can see, these rates have been in place for the past three years, and will be good for at least seven more.”

Samwell stared, trying to keep his eyes from glazing over. Onion leaned over to get a good look.

“Not quite what we were looking at before, is it?”

Samwell gripped the desk tightly.

“I’d recommend you check your father’s accounts too. …Though it sounds like you’d spot changes there more easily. Still.”

“I will certainly do that,” Samwell said through clenched teeth. “Thank you.”

“…We were wondering too, if there was more,” Onion said, noting how furious Samwell was. “Ol’ Cadswitch was pretty well-off, seems like there would be more than this.”

“Of course.” Verity laughed. “This is just what he willed to Longspot and the six boys.”

“Seven,” Samwell snapped. “There are seven of us.”

“This is what he willed to the six of you,” she repeated. “The majority of Lord Cadswitch’s investments and returns are going into a trust fund he set up to be bequeathed when your brother Maxwell comes of age. He was always Cadswitch’s favorite. …No offense to you, of course.”

“Oh. Um. None taken,” Samwell said vaguely.

“As you are not his guardian, and the money is not transferring any time soon, not to mention I’m still tying things up on my end, I didn’t contact you about that.”

“Oh. No, I – that makes sense. Uh… Good.”

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” She leaned back in her leather chair. “Now, since I have you here, I’d be very interested to know in what sort of direction the Gotch family will be heading in the future.”

“…Which of course is none of your business,” Onion supplied, while Samwell tried to catch his breath.

“It’s not. It’s professional curiosity. I’ve seen what each one of them did, and I’m wondering which way you favor.” She pinned Samwell with an intense stare.

He took a deep breath. “I… haven’t decided,” he said slowly, looking at the desk and not her. “I need to… give it the proper consideration. But something that will benefit not only my brothers, our family… but hopefully have a greater impact on the world. Possibly a different direction altogether.”

She smiled for the first time. “A reasonable answer, young Master Samwell. I think your grandfather would have approved.”

Chapter Text

“So we’re gonna lay low for a while, understand?” Onion said as they returned to Utmany. Daisuke was with Comfrey in the steering cabin, and the other two stood out on deck watching the darkening sky. “I know you’re mad. Can’t say I’m happy about it either. But we need to be sure we’ve got all the proof we need, and we especially need to be sure you get all the paperwork we need. If he smells a rat, he might do something drastic. Got it?”

“I understand.” Samwell sighed. They’d spent some time exploring Bellenuit, and he’d mostly stuck around Onion because Daisuke was busy with Comfrey in ways he didn’t want to either intrude on or see. “I’ll… I can do that. For now.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to tell my brothers yet. About Codswallop… or about Max’s inheritance. I’ll tell him there’ll be some money when he’s 18, I’ll just keep it vague. They don’t need any more reasons to fight.”

“Probably a good idea, huge inheritances don’t make you any friends among those who didn’t get any. …Or much. They seem like they get along pretty well, though. Generally.”

“Sometimes.” Samwell looked down as they passed out of the smog of Eisengeist. “I… I think this has been good for them,” he said softly. “Really good.”

“Probably good for you too,” Onion suggested.

Samwell rubbed his eyes. “I guess I’m too young to have a heart attack,” he muttered. “But… you’re right. Long-term, maybe.”

“Long-term’s important. Maybe now that we’re untangling things, you can get some short-term benefits too.”

“Maybe,” Samwell agreed. “It was good to get away for a while.”

“Yeah. Helps to get some different scenery now and then.”

“Do you think… the others could too some time? Before the end of the summer?”

“Don’t see why not. Ask Comfrey or Marya, but I’d say that could work.”

Samwell smiled as the Zephyr descended on the lawn of the Gotch estate.

They heard the yelling as they landed, even through the whir of the engine. Samwell jumped off the Zephyr before it had fully docked, and was racing towards the house where Hatwell and Roywell had tumbled down the front stairs and were screaming at each other, punching and kicking and grabbing and ripping clothing. Hatwell was stronger, but Roywell was more strategic.

“Stop!” Samwell roared as he raced over. “What are you doing? Stop!”

“Break it up!” Van’s voice boomed out over the grounds. They both startled but each of them took advantage of the moment to go after the other while they were caught off-guard.

“Roywell!” Samwell shouted, grabbing his brother while Van snatched Hatwell up around the waist. “I can’t leave you alone for a day! What’s wrong with you!?”

“He attacked me!” Roywell yelled, panting and pulling at his brother’s grip. “He started it!”

“You started it!” Hatwell shouted, struggling against Van and kicking at her as hard as he could. “Samwell, he said he’s glad Father died! He said you all are!”

“Roywell,” Samwell snapped. “Could you keep your mouth shut once in a while? When it matters?”

“I’m only telling the truth, we’re all glad!” Roywell snarled. “He hated all of us, you know he did!”

“All right, we’re taking a walk,” Van growled. She turned to the rest of the gathered Wind Riders and Gotch brothers. “Back inside and mind your business. Wealwell, don’t you dare.”

“I’m already inside!” Wealwell complained from the foyer window.

“Let’s go, give them some time,” Monty said, ushering everyone back in.

“It is our business,” Blanewell muttered, but turned back. “Come on.”

Maxwell and Johnwell watched Van walk off with Hatwell, who was screaming and thrashing.

“She wouldn’t really hurt him, would she?” Johnwell asked.

“No,” Maxwell said. “…Probably not. Maybe she’ll scare him, though.” Good, he thought privately.

“You know how he is,” Roywell growled, pulling away from Samwell at last and stepping back. “He’s just always trying to fight somebody.”

“You get along with him better than anyone, you really said that to him?” Samwell shook his head. “I expected better from you.”

Roywell flinched away from him. “Well I guess I’m still not living up to expectations,” he said coldly, and turned away.

“Roywell, that’s not what I meant.”

He stormed off into the house, not looking back.

“Prob’ly needs some space right now,” Daisuke murmured. “Let him calm down.”

“I… I didn’t mean that.”

“Tempers got pretty high, looks like. Gotta let ‘em cool off a little first.”

“We’re a disaster,” Samwell groaned. “All of us. This whole family.”

“Let me go!” Hatwell shouted, kicking back as hard as he could. “Put me down you brute! I’m gonna kill him!”

Van carried him out to the other side of the Zephyr and stood silently while he raged. It took a long time for him to wear himself out and yell himself hoarse.

“Right,” she said quietly. “Got it out of your system?”

“I hate you.”

“Sure,” she said affably.

“Put me down.”

“Nah, we’re gonna sort this out right here and now.”

“Shut up. You hated our father.”

“Didn’t care for him, yeah. …But he was your dad, so I can understand how you’d feel differently.”

“He’s –“ He paused to cough. “He’s Roywell’s father too! And the others! And they… they were all on Roywell’s side! They’re always against me!”

“Yeah, that’s hard.” Her voice softened. “Funny how you all grew up in the same house but you all took it different, huh?”

“They don’t even care.” Hatwell’s voice was a raspy whine now, and Van loosened her grip from a full grapple to a breathable restraint.

“Didn’t look like they didn’t care.”

“They don’t, they hate Father and they hate me. You all do.”

“You were close with your dad, huh?” She felt him tense slightly. “I was close with mine before the sea took him.”

“He was probably doing something stupid and deserved it.”

“Okay. Now what did you mean to say there?”

“You heard me. You didn’t even try to pretend you don’t hate me.”

“You’ve been doin’ a lot of fighting around here. Especially tonight. Figured it was time you took a break.”

“I’ll fight all of you any day.”

“You would, too,” she agreed evenly. “And I get that, I do. Gotta give yourself a break, though.”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t hate you, by the way. You’re a spitfire and got some shit to work through, but who doesn’t?”

“You mean I’m the worst.”

“You’re not listening.”

“Are you punishing Roywell too?”

“This ain’t a punishment, kid. We’re just talking.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I was talking to Roywell and he said –“

“Yeah, I heard what he said. Not real nice of him, that’s for sure.”

“…He said Father never would have liked me no matter what I did,” Hatwell muttered, voice trembling.

“Yeah, well you knew your dad and how he felt about you, right?”

He’d relaxed a bit, but now he tensed again. “I was getting better,” he mumbled. “He liked Samwell because he’s the oldest, but… he said I could do better, and I tried and… and I could’ve… I know I’m not… the best, but I could’ve been good enough.”

“Oh, kid,” Van murmured, giving him a little squeeze.

“Shut up, you don’t know anything.”

“Can you listen to what I’m saying for a minute? Instead of what you think I’d say? Hatwell?”

“You’re not saying anything I want to hear.”

“Gimme a chance and I’ll give you one. …If I put you down, will you listen to me for a minute?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m listening to you. I promise. Give me just a minute here.”

“Fine,” he muttered.

Van slowly lowered him to the ground and he stepped away, then turned to face her with a defiant glare. She knew she wouldn’t get a lot of time, if he’d give her any at all.

“Your brothers aren’t against you. I see you playing together, working together all the time. Even when you piss each other off. They love you. And you love them. And we do care about you, I hope you know that.”

“Okay,” he scoffed.

“You’re not just fightin’ for fun out there. You’ve always got a reason. Might not always be one I agree with, but you’ve got one. What’re you getting in so many fights for?”

“I could beat any of them,” he muttered resentfully. “I would’ve won if you hadn’t stopped me. I’ll win next time.”

“Why?”

He kicked the ground hard. “Because I can. To show them I’m better.”

“Who’re you showing you’re better?” Van asked softly.

He bit the inside of his cheek. “…All of them. All of you.”

“You know Marya thinks you’re a lot of fun? She loves how hard you go at anything you do. Gotta say, I agree. You don’t do anything halfway, and I like that. Makes things harder, though. For you.” He cast her a venomous look. “And that’s a shame. Life’s hard, but it don’t have to be all hard. You don’t have to prove yourself to us. Or to your brothers, I’d wager.”

“That’s all we ever do,” he muttered.

“I’d get tired of that real fast,” she murmured. “What if you just stopped that?”

He glared at her. “Then they’d think I was weak and they’d know they could beat me.”

“Wouldn’t change anything about you, though. Wouldn’t change your own strengths.”

“If people think you’re weak, they’ll tear you apart. Wealwell and Johnwell are going to be murdered someday because they don’t fight back.”

“That’s not something you want to happen to your brothers.”

The wild look returned to his eyes. “It’ll have to sooner or later.”

“Who says?”

“Father.” It was out before he thought, and she saw him freeze up. She gripped his shoulders.

“You are better than he thought you were,” she growled in a low voice. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Got that?”

He was trembling, held in place by uncertainty.

“You’re a fucking force to be reckoned with. Your brothers all know that, and so do we. Nobody doubts that for a second. You never have to prove that.”

Hatwell’s shoulders drooped and he shuddered. Van stepped forward again and put a cautious arm around him, giving him a chance to escape if he wanted to.

“Deep breath now,” she said softly. “Just a fight, that’s all. Happens to me all the time. You’ll work it out in the morning. Get you both some rest, you’ll be all right.”

He sniffled, leaning into her just slightly.

“You’re all right, lad. …You okay?”

“My head hurts,” Hatwell’s voice cracked.

“Didn’t hit it, did you?” She ran a hand lightly over his mussed hair.

“N-no.”

“Well we’ll get you a drink of water, and you get to bed, you’ll feel better.”

“It always hurts,” he whispered. “I… I can take it, though. It’s not that bad.”

“Oh. …Well you deserve better than that, don’t you think? It doesn’t have to hurt all the time. We can get you something for the pain for tonight, and then get that checked out soon. Okay?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded once against her side.

“Right.” She patted his shoulder. “A drink of water, some pain medicine, and bed. And that’s not a punishment, got it? And talk to your brother in the morning.”

“…Okay.”

“Good lad. Let’s go, I’ll stick by you.”

Onion headed into the dark kitchen while the rest of the house tried to calm down. A small sound made him stop. Slowly he headed to the pantry and knocked softly before opening the door.

“I don’t want to talk to Samwell,” Roywell said immediately.

“Good, because he’s not here.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. Or Hatwell.”

“Fine by me.” Onion turned around, leaving the door open. “Sylvio left some of his good tea out, I was gonna make a cup. Want some?”

“No,” Roywell said quickly. “…What kind?”

Onion picked up the box and squinted at it. “…Jasmine pear. He likes the fruity, flowery stuff. I’m more of a coffee drinker myself, but I’ve had more than enough today. I’ll give it a try. There’s plenty if you want some.”

Roywell stayed where he stood. “…I guess.”

Onion nodded and took out two cups, then put the kettle on to boil. “Remember when you tried to lock me in a vault in the basement? Good times. I still laugh about that sometimes.”

“…Somebody would’ve found you,” Roywell muttered.

“Sure as hell not you, huh?” Onion laughed.

“I’m not – We wanted you to leave, we weren’t going to kill you!”

“Appreciate that. Glad we’ve come a long way since then.”

“…I wasn’t going to kill Hatwell.”

“Oh, I know that.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to hurt him at first, but he got so mad and I had to fight back, and… and I wanted to hurt him after a while.”

“Yeah.” Onion stood still, watching the stove’s burner.

“He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get what an asshole Father was! To him too, Father didn’t like him! He liked… well he liked Samwell more than the rest of us, but still not that much I guess. And he wasn’t nice to any of us.”

“Mm.”

“He has to see it, he’s not that stupid.”

“In my experience, people don’t see anything they don’t want to see.” Onion shrugged. “Hard to change that. I usually don’t try.”

“He’s – He’s awful, but I…” Roywell stopped and watched him pour boiling water over the tea leaves in Sylvio’s little strainers. “He’s okay. Sometimes.”

Onion chuckled. “I feel the same way about Haunch. Don’t tell him. Pain in everyone’s ass, but he’s good people when you come down to it. …Give that a few minutes to steep. Smells good, anyway.”

Roywell sighed in frustration. “He won’t listen to me, none of them will! So it’s all on Samwell and I can’t help and I’m just… dead weight. It looks like I’m not even trying.”

“Not what Samwell says about you,” Onion murmured. “He thinks you’re great.”

“Does he… talk about me?”

“We mostly focus on business, but sure. He loves all of you, but definitely counts on you the most.”

“…And I let him down,” Roywell mumbled, shoulders drooping.

“Seems like you had something going on.”

“I was trying to help…”

“Mm. Sometimes less is more.”

“Then nobody’ll ever think I’m doing anything! I’m not lazy!”

“Nobody said you were.” He noticed Roywell flinch in his peripheral vision. “…Doesn’t seem like you are,” he corrected. “I dunno, making people behave… not really my area of expertise. I leave that to Van.”

“She won’t – she wouldn’t hurt him…”

“Course not.”

“Just scare him?”

“Maybe. …She was pretty bent outta shape when she did that to you all last time, though. I think she’d rather not. She’s got all kinds of ways, I don’t begin to understand it all but she’s damn good. I just handle the finances and mind my own business.” He took the strainers off and washed out the tea leaves, then pushed one mug closer to Roywell, blowing over the top of his.

Roywell took his mug and inhaled the steam. “I know you’re working with Samwell… but would you have time to show me some… finances? Just a little, just… how to do some things? I – I’m pretty good at math.”

Onion smiled. “Well, turns out Samwell and I don’t have as much to do anymore. Want to meet up maybe an hour before dinner? We can do some financial work, and then some other math too. …Been a while since I branched out, sounds like it could be fun. …And listen, your brother’s got a pretty good handle on things, but he could absolutely use the help.”

Roywell nodded eagerly. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow and any other day you want, if we’ve both got time.”

Chapter Text

Sylvio was in the middle of the grand staircase when suddenly he couldn’t pick up his foot. He tugged it a couple of times and looked down. About ten steps were covered in a thick, gooey substance. It was gradually drying.

“Oh dear,” he murmured to himself. “This is quite a pickle.” He pulled at his boot but found it completely stuck. And the other foot was stuck to the step below. He heard giggling from the landing above and looked up to see Maxwell and Blanewell’s heads disappear. “I see.”

He was looking around, pondering the merits of taking off his boots and either going up or down, when he heard a soft footstep. “Oh, Daisuke!”

The other gunslinger looked up, and Sylvio tried to stand casually.

“I wonder if you might take a look at this here.”

Daisuke cocked an eyebrow, but slowly approached. “What?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think you’ll find it… diabolically intriguing.”

Daisuke went up the stairs and stopped next to Sylvio. “What’re we looking at?”

Sylvio smiled, pausing. “Take another step.”

Daisuke tried to lift his foot and frowned. “What the hell?” He pulled a few more times.

“It appears we’re quite stuck,” Sylvio chuckled.

“Well fuck,” Daisuke muttered. He looked around. A door opened below. Their eyes met as they listened to the footsteps.

“Gimme the Haunch!” they called together, grinning.

Samwell looked up as he heard gravel crunching outside the window. Coswallop’s car was slowly coming up the long driveway. He jumped up and ran down the stairs.

“Whoa, whoa! Hold on there!” Daisuke called. There was a group of Wind Riders standing on the stairs below the central landing.

“You may want to avoid this area,” Sylvio said. “Treacherous terrain, I’m afraid.”

“Codswallop’s here, I have to – What are you doing?”

“Well someone decided to put a really strong adhesive all over the steps,” Marya said, glancing upwards. The boys did not make an appearance. “Anyway, we can come up with something to get it off, but it will take time.”

“Well… I have to get outside, and I need the stairway clear because he’ll want to be inside. Can you get off there and… cover it for a while?”

“Got a suggestion?” Haunch drawled.

“There’s a holiday rug in the hall closet. I – I can maybe jump –“

“Nope,” Daisuke said. He turned and laced his fingers together, turning his palms up. “Step here, hold on, I’ll hand you down to Haunch, he’ll do the same, and we’ll… figure it out. I’m right behind you.”

“This is ridiculous,” Samwell muttered, but he heard the car door close and did as he was instructed.

“Fucking right,” Haunch agreed as he helped Samwell down to the clean stairs. The eldest Gotch ran outside just as Codswallop was coming up the front steps and closed the door behind him. “Mr. Codswallop, so good of you to come by. Did you bring any more paperwork? I think I’ve got things just about sorted out.”

“Ah – a bit.” Codswallop held up his briefcase. “Is your… er… ‘guardian’… here?”

Samwell glanced back at the door. He could hear a variety of thumps and muffled voices coming from inside. “He’s on his way. I just wanted to apologize for my brothers’ behavior last time. I’ve spoken to them, they’ve agreed not to throw any more eggs.”

Codswallop glanced up at the windows. “Yes. Well. Children can be quite… unruly, I understand. Particularly without appropriate adult supervision.”

“It’s… it hasn’t been bad,” Samwell said slowly.

“Well I certainly hope there have been no more… skybound jaunts.” Codswallop shook his head. “I shudder to think of your brothers on such a rickety craft.”

“It’s not that bad,” Samwell said again, looking over at the Zephyr.

The door opened and Daisuke strolled out in socked feet, a hole worn in each big toe. “Oh, Mr. Codswallop. Didn’t see you there. Got some business here today?”

“Indeed I do. I hope we’ll be able to attend to it in your office, Master Samwell.”

“I’ve actually been working in the library. There’s more room to spread out, with all the paperwork I’ve been getting. Please, come in.” Samwell led the way and Daisuke gestured for Codswallop to follow before bringing up the rear.

The red and gold holiday carpet was stretched out crookedly in the middle of the staircase, lumpy where it covered shoes. Sylvio and Marya were tugging on it, though it was clearly stuck.

“Good heavens, what’s happened here?” Codswallop asked.

“It’s a game, Mr. Codswallop.” Codswallop startled and stepped away from Wealwell, who stood next to him out of nowhere. Wealwell smiled. “I’m winning. Would you like to play?”

“Ah… Er…” He stepped away, looking at Samwell and Daisuke. “Perhaps we should be on our way.”

“You got kids, Mr. Codswallop?” Daisuke asked as they walked upstairs on the rug.

“No. We discussed the matter, but decided it was too great an expense.”

“We’re certainly expensive,” Samwell murmured, leading them into the library. He and Onion had carefully put away the documents they’d reworked, leaving the old figures. “…So this is what I’ve got worked out, I hoped you’d take a look and tell me what you think.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to.” He stepped over and began to examine the spreadsheets and notes. Daisuke and Samwell exchanged a glance, giving him time to read everything. After a while Daisuke strolled over to stand next to him, peering down at the numbers.

“Excuse me,” Codswallop said, frowning.

“Hm? You’re excused. How’s it lookin’ from where you’re standin’?”

“This all seems correct. …Do you have much knowledge of banking? Aside from… withdrawals?”

“Not a bit,” Daisuke said cheerfully. “All these numbers an’ lines make my head hurt. I’m a simple man, I don’t write things down.”

“There are just a few things to tie up, a few holes from Grandfather’s accounts,” Samwell said quietly. “It’s making sense, though. My father kept very precise records, as you know. My grandfather…”

“Mm, yes, less-so, I’m afraid. Have you managed to reach his financial advisor?”

“I’m afraid she hasn’t written back.” He pulled out the note with her contact information in Gastonet. “This is the right address? I know it was… not an ideal situation when you gave it to me.”

“Yes. Yes, that looks correct. I can certainly make inquiries as to whether she has moved or retired. …You know, after the death of her greatest client, she may have chosen to step down.”

“Surely she would… at least respond though, wouldn’t she? Pass along the information?”

“Mm, it’s possible that one of your uncles may know, but I do think it unlikely.”

“All right. I suppose all I can do is keep waiting. …I was hoping you could give me a copy of our files so I can make sure I have the full picture as well. And all the original documents from Grandfather.”

“Ah. Of course, we are working on just a bit more of your grandfather’s paperwork, but I can make note of anything you don’t have here and bring it along next time.”

“Everything, please,” Samwell said quietly. “If you don’t mind. Just – I want to be sure everything’s right. It would bring me a lot of peace of mind.”

“If that is what you require,” Codswallop agreed. “I’m terribly sorry this has been needlessly stressful for you.”

“It’s… been a lot to deal with. I’m managing, though.”

“And in that matter I have some good news! I have been speaking with a lawyer who specializes in tricky custody disputes. We’ve managed to pull a few strings, and the Confederated Imperial Republic has granted special permission to transfer custody of you and your brothers to the Republic’s public services, releasing Comfrey Macleod’s crew from their, ah… questionable obligations, since they clearly are not ideal –“

“What?” Samwell asked breathlessly.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Daisuke growled, stepping up to poke the muzzle of his pistol under Codswallop’s chin.

“Excuse me!” Codswallop exclaimed, stepping back quickly. “They will be placed with guardians of appropriate status –“

“No,” Samwell said flatly. “We won’t.”

“You’d best get outta this house right this second,” Daisuke said, fixing Codswallop with a sniper’s eye. “Before I do something real irresponsible. These boys are ours, you ain’t givin’ ‘em up to some strangers.”

“It – they would be fully qualified, aristocratic homes –“

“I said outta this house,” Daisuke snarled, pushing his gun into Codswallop’s chest, right over the heart. “On yer feet or in a box, it’s all the same to me.”

“Good heavens,” Codswallop breathed, stumbling out of the library quickly.

“You heard him,” Samwell said as they followed him. “Get out. Don’t ever bring this up again.”

“I… I have already made inquiries, put in applications –“

“Then cancel them. Immediately,” Samwell commanded.

Codswallop stumbled down the lumpy stairs, stepping off the uneven carpet towards the bottom and tripped, barely catching himself on the banister as he stepped out of his leather shoes.

“You lost,” Wealwell said in a sing-song voice.

“Out,” Daisuke said flatly.

“I – my shoes –“

“Outta this house, and you ain’t touchin’ my boys, you low-down sidewinder!” Daisuke shouted, and shot right next to Codswallop’s head, grazing his ear. The bullet lodged in the heavy wood door as he cried out and fled in his socks.

The Wind Riders and Gotch brothers stared at him. None of them had ever heard him raise his voice.

“Fucker’s not gonna stop ‘til he sucks you dry,” he snarled to Samwell, and turned on his heel, pushing roughly through the Wind Riders to stalk down the hall.

“We could… kill him,” Hatwell suggested slowly.

“…Nothing that’ll get us in real trouble,” Samwell muttered. “But everything else is fair game.” The younger boys grinned.

“Uh… Samwell. Mind explaining what that was all about?” Comfrey asked, laughing uncomfortably. She looked out the window to see Codswallop struggling over the gravel in his socked feet.

Samwell sighed. “…He looked over what I’ve got, said it looked fine. He’s got more – of course – and he’s still insisting the address for Verity Wiswold is right. I asked for copies of everything he has. And then, um, he said he was trying to get us placed with some other guardians through the CIR. With special permission. …Which I don’t see how he can, this is legally binding.”

“He can’t just give us away,” Blanewell complained.

“No. He can’t. I won’t let that happen.”

“Neither will we,” Van said flatly, looking around at all of them. “All right? We’re here with you til September. Everybody okay with that?”

The brothers nodded emphatically.

Comfrey slipped away after Daisuke. She found him perched in the windowsill of the solarium in the corner of the house, eyes trained on the far-off road. Codswallop’s car was just leaving, it having taken him longer to get in without shoes on gravel.

“Hey darlin’. You okay?”

“Mm.”

She walked up and put a hand on his back, then began to rub it gently when he didn’t react. “…You’re mighty worked up over this.”

“I said what I said.”

“You sure did. …You see him hopping around on the gravel in his socks?”

“A little.” A thin smile twisted over his face. “Really made my day.”

“It was a sight.” She laughed softly. “Guess we’ll figure out a way to get those shoes off the steps.”

“Guess so.”

“…You’ve been spending a lot of time indoors.”

“Gonna spend a little more.”

“You got real attached to these kids.”

“I dunno about that,” he muttered. “They’re okay. Sometimes.”

“Enough that you got real serious real quick. What’d he say to you anyway?”

Daisuke’s face twitched in irritation. “…Told Sam he was gonna have the Republic take ‘em away and put ‘em in homes. Prob’ly not even together, he said ‘homes.’”

“Yeah… We woulda been okay with that last month, I think,” she said delicately, watching him closely.

“Not on my watch,” Daisuke growled.

Comfrey patted his back, not sure how to respond. He turned and grabbed her hand, kissing it.

“Hey beautiful. Don’t worry about me, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Drove out that varmint, didn’t I?” He grinned. “Sam keeps tellin’ the kids not to kill him, but ain’t no way I’d get caught if I did it.”

“…I love that, but he’s a rich guy who works to keep richer men richer. They’ve got different laws up there, different justice.”

“Let ‘em try.” He smirked. “I got my own justice right here.” He patted Biscuits.

She leaned in to kiss him. “You know it’d break my heart to see you caged.”

“Nah.” He laughed, standing up. “Even if they got me, you’d bust me out. Biggest jail break of the century, they’d be puzzlin’ out how you did it for years. …Damn, that’d be fun. Almost makes me wanna get caught.”

Comfrey laughed, giving his ear a little nibble. “…Let’s keep it at ‘almost’ for now, huh?”

“For now,” he agreed, and grabbed her, bending her over for a deep kiss that he didn’t break until he ran out of air.

(the rumors of how long he could hold his breath weren’t quite accurate, but it was still an impressive amount of time if he did say so himself)

Samwell was playing Don’t Get Stuck with his brothers on the stairs, which involved a lot of running and pushing, when Daisuke came in.

“Hey, uh… still got your shoes?”

“Oh! Yes. For now.” He looked back, grinning at Roywell and Hatwell with one foot each stuck, holding onto each other and trying to pull together. He came down the stairs. “…Thank you. That… I appreciate what you said to him. We all do.”

“Yeah, wanted to talk to you about that if you got a minute.” He turned and headed out the door, and Samwell followed him. He walked all the way to the rose garden, then looked around. “Uh.”

Samwell waited for him to speak.

“Just… sorry I called you boys mine. Didn’t mean to, just came out in the heat of the moment. I know you don’t like that.”

“Oh. That’s… it’s all right. It was just – I think it drove home your point. And I told Codswallop plenty of lies too.”

“Y’know, you didn’t tell a single one that I heard, that was real slick.” He grinned, elbowing Samwell. “You just bent the truth to what you wanted. Made me proud. And he bought it hook, line, and sinker. We’ll make a swindler outta you yet.”

“I – are you… trying to?”

“Nah, just pullin’ yer leg, don’t worry.” He plucked off a white rose petal that was starting to come loose, and smoothed it out.

“I mean… legally we’re… yours, so that… wasn’t really a lie either,” Samwell said awkwardly.

“Well sure, legally,” Daisuke muttered. “If you believe in laws.”

“…Which you don’t.”

Daisuke cocked his head thoughtfully. “Depends on the law, I guess. Laws of possession, now those’re meant to be broken.”

“…Like us being yours.”

“Kids ain’t loot,” he snapped. Samwell blinked and he grimaced. “…Sorry.”

“It’s… okay. Anyway, um… thank you. Again. It means a lot to me that you’d defend us like that. To all of us.”

Daisuke rocked back and forth on his heels. “My parents died when I was real young. Younger’n little Maxwell. Can’t say I missed ‘em, except that they were familiar. You get that.”

Samwell nodded quietly.

“My daddy shot momma an’ then himself,” the older man continued conversationally. “I hid when they fought, or I prob’ly woulda been part of that.”

Samwell stared at him, horrified. “I – I’m sorry,” he breathed.

Daisuke shrugged. “That’s life. Anyway, I got by on my own for a couple weeks before the authorities came by. I’d dragged the bodies outside, but I couldn’t bury ‘em real good.”

Samwell covered his mouth.

“They said they’d find me a new home with a new family. Said the Republic would take care of me.” He shrugged. “…’Course that was over 50 years ago. I imagine things’ve changed a bit since then. Hope so, anyway. An’ up around here, there’s nicer services. Pilby’s a one-horse town, an’ back then it wasn’t even that.” He picked at something between his teeth for a moment while Samwell stared, unable to think of a single thing to say. “Bounced around a few different families for a few years. Didn’t go too well. Nothin’ you’d wanna hear about.”

Samwell’s blood chilled at the concept of something he wouldn’t want to hear about after what Daisuke had so casually revealed about his birth family.

He sighed. “Anyway, it wouldn’t be as bad for you. Like I said, I’m sure it’s better now. And you barely got any time left before this all gets settled.” His jaw tightened. “…But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let my kids live one day like that.”

Samwell watched him silently.

“Shit, sorry.” Daisuke scratched the back of his neck and blew out a long breath. “Ain’t doin’ too good today, am I? Words ain’t my thing.”

“It’s – I didn’t hear anybody complain about it,” Samwell said quietly. “And I… I don’t mind, really. It’s… like I said, it’s… true. And it’s, um, not a bad thing.”

A confused frown flitted over Daisuke’s face.

“It’s fine, though. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mm.” Daisuke blinked, coming back to himself. “Oh, uh, sorry for shootin’ yer door, too. Didn’t even go all the way through. That’s, uh… that’s some mighty good wood. Prob’ly worth at least one lost fortune.”

Samwell smiled. “…Probably. I’ll keep the bullet in there, though. I think we’ll all enjoy seeing it whenever we go out.”

Chapter Text

“Shooting a gun? In the house?” Montgomery LaMontgommery laughed. “No! No, he would never. Look at that.” He gestured across the lawn to where Daisuke was playing tag with the younger boys, letting them win, laughing.

“He’s carrying a gun right now,” said the representative from the Department of Children’s Services.

“Empty, I assure you,” Monty said, voice soft and humored. “It’s just part of getting dressed for him. Like putting on a watch. We all know he’s got a past, but – well, look at him! He’s been such a positive influence on these poor children. He’s a natural.”

“It was a difficult transition, but we all feel safe here,” Samwell said, hands tucked behind his back and lowered his voice. “If I may? Do you speak to Mr. Codswallop often?”

“Uh – no, this was the first time, I think.”

“He… I’m finding it a little difficult to work with him, even though he worked with our father for years. Every time he talks to me he brings up a new catastrophe that I’m really having a hard time dealing with, one on top of the other. He insisted that the Wind Riders were our guardians, and showed me proof, and… and I can accept that, but then the other day he told me he was going to have us all split up and put in… in random homes for the rest of the summer.” Samwell bit his lip. “I told him no, but… I hope you’ll put a stop to that as well. Daisuke did get mad. He shouted at Mr. Codswallop – I’ve never heard him raise his voice before.”

“Nor have I,” Monty added quietly. “And I’ve known him for years. He’s quite soft-spoken, but he’s grown protective of the boys here. He wouldn’t stand for any violence in the house, more than any of us.”

They looked over to where Daisuke was running from all six boys, zigzagging around the lawn. He circled around, and laughed when Maxwell tagged him too hard.

“I’m trying to care for my brothers, and it's hard enough without even more disruption. They’ve really settled in well with the Wind Riders.”

“And if I may say, some of his business practices are rather questionable.” Monty shook his head. “He approached Samwell alone about these issues numerous times until we pointed out that it was illegal for him to do so. I’m concerned he was trying to take advantage of these children. …And as Samwell said, he’s caused them quite a bit of distress. Especially young Samwell here.” He patted Samwell’s shoulder.

The official kept eyeing him, and Monty smiled.

“May I ask, do you have children? Or perhaps you yourself have read my Hazardous Happenings series?”

“Oh.” Her face lit up. “My kids are five and eight, we read a chapter every night before bed! They just love it! I… I didn’t think to bring a copy – not that I would ask you to sign anything right now! I’m here on business, that wouldn’t be professional.”

“Well if you want to come by some time, I’d be happy to sign a book for you. Or we can meet somewhere another time.” Monty smiled, pulling two bookmarks with pictures of the Zephyr out of one of his many pockets and signing each of them. “In the meantime, have these. And tell your children hello from me! Who are their favorite characters?”

“Oh, Emily likes Captain Marya, and Zac does like Daisuke.” She smiled, a little embarrassed, but eagerly took the bookmarks.

Samwell glanced at him, so at ease. He glanced over at Daisuke, who was being pulled to the ground by six Gotches. “They’re not a bit scared of him,” he murmured, nodding to the scene. “And… well, it was hard to trust anyone at first.”

The official looked over. “…I always thought he sounded surprisingly gentle for an outlaw,” she murmured. “Honestly, I was convinced that Sylvio was truly the bad one. Even after it was cleared up at the end of the first book.”

“Sylvio’s great too,” Samwell said quickly. “He – My brother Johnwell is so shy, but he loves it when Sylvio tells him stories. He even shows him his drawings, and Johnwell’s really reluctant to share any of his art with anyone. …He fell asleep on him the other night. It was… sweet.”

“It’s a joy to see them all opening up and growing,” Monty agreed, smiling.

“Honestly… Daisuke’s been kind of a mentor to me,” Samwell said softly, wondering if he was laying it on too thick. “He’s just… a calming presence, when I really needed that. He’s… we’re lucky to have him here.”

She sighed. “Well I appreciate you both talking to me. And it was good to visit. They do look happy and comfortable.”

“I… I’m trying to learn to take what Mr. Codswallop says with a grain of salt,” Samwell said quietly. “It’s hard sometimes.”

“You’re doing well,” Monty murmured. “No more panic attacks when he leaves.”

Samwell flashed him a tight smile. There was probably no need to exaggerate that much.

“Anyway, we appreciate you coming to check in,” Monty continued. “I would hate to think that any children have to stay in a dangerous environment.” He clasped her hand firmly. “Thank you for all that you do. It is so important.”

“Thank you,” Samwell added.

When she was gone, Samwell turned to Monty.

“Don’t you think that was a bit much? Bringing up your books?”

“What’s the point of being a beloved public figure if I can’t use it for good?” Monty smiled.

“…And thanking her for doing her job?”

“Everyone deserves to be appreciated, Samwell.”

“Okay, but… and you didn’t have to tell her I have panic attacks.”

“I apologize for that one, that was a breach of your privacy. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“…No, I mean I didn’t have panic attacks when he left.”

Monty raised his eyebrows. Samwell frowned at him. And thought for a moment.

“…Oh. Okay, but I don’t anymore,” he muttered. “Was that obvious to everyone but me?”

“It’s often hard to see things like that in yourself. Nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve got your feet firmly under you now.”

“Okay, so – hold on.”

Johnwell nodded, watching as Brycewell fumbled with a gold coin. He awkwardly flipped it along his knuckles, twisted his hand, then flipped up his open palm, empty.

“How’d you do that?” Johnwell leaned in.

“I can’t just tell you,” Brycewell huffed, pushing back his dark hair.

Johnwell stepped forward to look between fingers and in his sleeve. Brycewell stepped back quickly.

“Don’t!”

Johnwell drew back. “…Sorry. I didn’t know you could do that! How – I mean… that’s so cool!”

“…Really?”

“I’ve never seen – was that real?”

A smile gradually grew on Brycewell’s face and he gave an overly flourished bow. “Unbelievable, but true! I didn’t know if you’d care.”

“Did you show Wealwell? He’d love it too!”

“Um – no, I… I know you wouldn’t say anything, so…”

“You should show him! I won’t, I won’t say anything. …But he’d like it. Max probably would too.”

“I don’t want to show too many people until I get it perfect,” Brycewell muttered, the coin appearing in his hand again. He practiced flipping it along his knuckles.

“…That’s a really big coin. Is it from the vault?”

“Yeah. If Wealwell can just grab diamonds any time he wants, I can have one coin.” He frowned. “…I took the biggest one because it looks cooler. Maybe I’ll try a smaller one.”

“Sylvio would think that was really cool…”

“Don’t tell anybody,” Brycewell growled.

“I won’t! I said I won’t! I promise!” Johnwell hesitated, sizing up his brother. “Um – do you want to see some of my drawings?”

“Oh. Uh… sure, yeah.” Blanewell slipped his coin in his pocket and craned his neck while Johnwell flipped through his sketchbook hurriedly. He watched his younger brother’s shoulders hunch the farther he got, then paused for a second before shuffling closer.

“Um. It’s not that good, but… Here’s –“

“The lions at the gate,” Blanewell said. “That’s really good, John. They’re breaking out of the stone! Like, it actually looks like it’s just… a crust falling off them or something!”

“Y-yeah,” Johnwell whispered. “You think it’s okay?”

“It’s – you could color that and frame it, it’s so good! Are all your other drawings this good?”

“Um – I don’t know, they’re okay,” Johnwell mumbled, flipping through the rest a little too fast for Blanewell to get a good look.

“That’s – wait, let me see!” Blanewell stuck his hand out to stop the pages turning. “That’s the tree outside the gym at school, isn’t it? The one that looks like… like a witch screaming?”

“Yeah!” Johnwell’s face lit up. “There’s her face, and she’s –“

“And she’s standing like this!” Blanewell raised his hands all the way up and bent at the waist, opening his mouth wide. “It looks just like her! That’s so cool, John, would you… would you make me a copy of that one?”

“I could if you want!”

“I’d keep that. You’re really good. I can’t believe I’ve never seen any of these before! Did you show anyone else?”

“Just… sometimes Samwell or Wealwell. And Sylvio a couple times.” Johnwell looked away. “Um. He tells me stories and I draw things.”

“That’s – wow. Are you gonna be an artist?”

“I can’t –“ Johnwell said automatically, then stopped. Blanewell smiled.

“I think you could. Now, anyway.”

“Maybe,” Johnwell murmured, smiling as he began showing his brother more drawings.

Haunch lay on the roof looking up at the clouds pass by overhead, but looked up when the access door opened. He looked back to the sky when he saw Samwell coming out.

“You miss being up there?”

Haunch snorted. “I spend most of my time shut up in the engine room, hardly see the sky when I’m up in it. …Weird that I’d care.”

“It’s different.”

“Yeah. It is.” He sat up and turned towards Samwell. “You need something? Or just getting away?”

“Mostly getting away.” Samwell walked up to sit closer to him and held out a heavy bottle, about a third full of deep amber liquid. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Father’s good brandy. Worth thousands, he said.”

Haunch leaned forward and took it, inspecting the label. “…Oh that’s the good shit,” he murmured. “Way too good for me. I go for the cheap stuff.” He offered it back.

“Keep it. It’s – Father would have a drink when he did business, or when he was stressed, and I tried that… I just got sick. And felt worse. If you’d like it, I’d rather you have it.”

Haunch smiled slightly, opening it with a soft pop and taking a swig. “Ah! Damn, whatever else your old man did, he had good taste in drinks.”

“I think he mostly just had the funds to buy the best,” Samwell suggested. “…But maybe.”

“That’s sure a big part of it.” Haunch chuckled. “Thanks. You’re okay.”

“You are too.” Samwell hesitated. “…I’m glad you tipped that table over.”

“Listen, Monty kept sayin’ I should try bonding more, and – oh. Uh, yeah.”

“It’ll be better as three pieces. It was far too long to be practical.”

“Right? That’s what I’m saying.” Haunch grinned and raised the bottle to Samwell. “Hey. Good for you for not getting into this shit. It’ll fuck up a lot of things in your life.”

“Yeah…” Samwell gazed at the bottle, and realized belatedly that no matter how appreciated it was, it might not have been the best gift to give.

“…I saw you’ve got a whole wine cellar down in the basement.”

“That’s… standard for any house I’ve been to.”

“We’ve been to different houses,” Haunch muttered.

“Obviously.”

“You ever wanna offload any more of that kinda thing, I could –“

“Thank you. Not right now. …That was in Father’s office, I just… wanted to get rid of it.” It wasn’t much, at least.

“Well… thanks.” Haunch smiled, a little disappointed. “Real nice of you, either way. I’ll save this for somethin’ special.”

“Whenever you want,” Samwell shrugged and lay back to look up at the sky. “It’s nothing special.”

“All right, one more time!” Van said, raising her fists. “Come on you two, knock me down.”

Maxwell and Hatwell charged at her from opposite sides. She caught Maxwell’s fist and sidestepped Hatwell. Maxwell continued throwing punches while Hatwell shoved her from behind, then went for her knee when she turned. She grabbed him and Maxwell twisted out of her grip, landing a solid punch in her side.

“Oof! Sharp little fists! Nice one.” She sidestepped and avoided the full force of Hatwell shoving her with his whole body.

“They’re not little!” Maxwell growled, and she dodged another hit.

“Sorry!” She laughed. “Big giant fists, I’m surprised you can even lift ‘em! Hatwell! The head’s not the best weapon!”

“I’ve knocked people out with it before!” Hatwell growled.

“I bet you have, and we’re tryin’ to get it to hurt less! C’mon you two, I’m still up!”

The two continued to attack her, and she finally flopped forwards when they both managed to attack her from behind.

“You let us win,” Max complained, panting, though they were both grinning.

“You wore me down,” Van said, a little breathless herself, and rolled over on her back.

“We still won.” Hatwell grinned down at her.

“Yeah, all right. Nice job. …Good tactics. Divide my attention, distract me while the other one attacks, that was good.”

“It didn’t work, though,” Hatwell pointed out.

“Nah, I’ve been doing this for longer than both of your lives put together,” she chuckled. “Good job anyway.”

“Now you’re defenseless!” Maxwell yelled as he leapt at her.

Van laughed, catching him in one arm. “Not even a little!” She caught Hatwell in the other arm as he followed Maxwell’s example, and pushed off to roll down the gentle hill of the lawn, pulling their heads in close as they laughed. She didn’t go far with two boys rolling with her, but managed to get over twice before they stopped. Hatwell heaved himself up on his side and threw a punch at Maxwell over her, and Van caught it quickly.

“Nope. We’re done, that’s enough for today. Relax.”

Hatwell glared halfheartedly and sat next to her. Maxwell sat up too and grinned at him, and his glare hardened.

Van sat up between them, patting them both on the shoulders roughly. “Nice job, good hustle. We’ll go again tomorrow, yeah?”

“Okay!” Maxwell ran off to find Wealwell.

“How’s the head?” Van asked, patting Hatwell.

“Fine,” he snapped, then relaxed a little. “It’s… better.”

“Good. We’re gonna take care of it, yeah?” She ruffled his hair and he leaned into her. “That means you gotta stop knocking it into people. Don’t be making it worse.”

“That makes it feel better sometimes,” he argued.

“Well we’re gonna try other things now, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed. He looked up suddenly and quickly got up. “Bye.”

“Oh. Bye, then.” She looked over and saw Samwell heading towards them. Hatwell paused to greet his brother as they passed each other, and continued back to the house.

“Hello,” Samwell said as he approached.

“Hi there.” Van sat up.

“You’re… really good with Hatwell,” he murmured, sitting down a short distance away.

“Yeah, he’s alright,” she said, smiling. “Made up with Roywell pretty easy after their big fight the other day.”

“Yeah. …What did you say to him?”

“Just listened, mostly.” She shrugged. “Made sure he knew he’s got nothing to prove to anybody here.”

Samwell sighed. “…I tried that, but he didn’t listen.”

“Hey. They all think the world of you. I can see how much you take care of ‘em. But that’s a lot of kids for you to take responsibility for, and you shouldn’t have to be his parent when you’re his brother. And you know you haven’t been the only influence he’s had.”

“I know. Anyway, I’m glad he’s doing better. Thank you.”

She nodded. “…And that kid wants attention any way he can get it, so if you can do it in a good way he’s gonna go for it less by tryin’ to kill people.”

Samwell nodded slowly. “I – I’ve tried, I’ll… try more.” He paused. “I’m… glad they didn’t let me… just take care of everybody alone this summer,” he mumbled, looking down. “It would’ve been a disaster.”

“They would’ve survived. And still would’ve had a chance to relax. You’d do okay.”

“Maybe. It’s… a lot, though.”

“Fucking right it is.” She chuckled. “I wouldn’t wanna take all this on alone.”

He exhaled. “…Well with the finances worked out, I’ll have all year to make a plan for next summer. I’ll be more ready then.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah… yeah, we’ll have to talk about that before the end of this thing. …At the very least, we’re tryin’ to set you up real well though, yeah?”

“Yes. And I… I really appreciate that.” He exhaled. “I wanted… to talk to you, actually. You’re… you come from a… wealthy family.”

“That’s right.”

“And… I know it’s not the same at all, but… you… you’ve always…” He paused. “Sorry, is it… rude to call you a pirate?”

Van laughed. “No lad, pirate’s what I am and pirate’s what I’ve always been! …More or less. Yeah. The Chapmans have been pirates since way back in the day. It’s a lucrative business if you can cut it.” She flashed him a sly grin. “Why, you wanna be a pirate?”

“No,” Samwell said quickly. “No, I just… I guess your money isn’t in… banks.”

“Nah. We keep it safe and sound, though.”

“Things could happen to it, though. Don’t you ever worry about it? Someone could steal it, a hurricane could destroy it, it could just… rust or get moldy or… And it doesn’t accrue interest that way.”

“No interest at all,” she agreed, smirking. “Got enough that I don’t have to worry about that. And we make sure it’s all spread out. You got all your money in one place?”

“No, it’s in a variety of banks and funds and investments.”

“Exactly. Keep it spread out so if an island sinks into the sea, we’re still okay. If somebody steals it, we ain’t gonna starve while we’re gettin’ it back.”

“Oh,” Samwell said softly, eyes unfocusing slightly.

“You get tired of Onion’s money advice, wanna try your luck with mine?”

“I just…” He hesitated. “I… was raised with a very… strict idea of how to manage money, and I’m discovering… there are other ways.”

“I won’t give you some load of shit about how money ain’t important. We all know it is. The more you got, the easier you got it. And if you gotta make that your only focus so you can keep livin’, there’s no shame in that.” She leaned in. “But people like you and me, we don’t need to worry about all that. So why not live a little?”

“I can’t imagine how that would look…”

She poked him in the chest. “Who gives a fuck?”

He stared at her.

“You gotta do what’s right for you. And your family. …And right now, I’d say that’s stability. You’ve had enough change for a while. Let me be very clear, I ain’t sayin’ you should all run off into the woods right now. But in a few years? When you’re done with school and whatever else you want?” She shrugged. “Like I said, do what’s right for you. There’s a lot out there, though.”

“Okay…”

“That make sense?”

“I… I’m not sure. But I’ll definitely think about it.”

“Good.” She grinned. “You ever think about turnin’ your hand to piracy, you let me know. There’s good money in piracy. I could show you the ropes.”

“Thank you.” He smiled faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, who’s up for a ride after dinner?” Comfrey looked over the boys at dinner.

Some of them looked up questioningly. Hatwell and Johnwell kept eating.

“Could be fun,” Marya said enticingly.

“Yeah, where’re you goin’?” Van asked.

“I don’t know, we could head to the mountains, see what we can see from the highest peak! Could probably get out to the coast, you can see all the way to the Kabillian Isles from there on a clear day!”

“You can go any time you want,” Roywell said. “There’s plenty of adult supervision here. It doesn’t have to be you.”

Comfrey’s stiff smile tightened. Daisuke patted her leg under the table. “I just thought it might be fun. To do something with you… you kids.”

“You’re not a good liar,” Hatwell said, rolling his eyes.

The other Wind Riders exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“Samwell? How ‘bout it?” she asked.

Samwell grimaced. “I have plans already.”

“Wealwell?” she asked, a note of desperation entering her voice. “You always wanna come on the ship, right? Wanna go have an adventure?”

He looked up at her slowly. “Oh no. Not when I’m the worst.”

Hatwell laughed roughly.

“…All right,” Comfrey muttered, getting up and walking out of the room. “Just thought I’d offer. Don’t say I didn’t try.”

Chapter Text

A courier arrived late in the day, just as they were washing up for dinner, and Comfrey signed for the delivery before leaning in and calling. “Hey Samwell! Need you out here.”

Samwell hurried to the door. “What is it?”

“This here’s Samwell Gotch,” she said to the courier, who saluted smartly.

“Good evening, sir. I just came from Eisengeist, I was directed to only release this into your hands.” She headed down the stairs to her truck and went into the back.

“You expecting a package?” Comfrey asked.

“No…” Samwell frowned. They watched as the courier emerged with a hand truck piled high with boxes. He hurried down the stairs. “What is this? Who sent it?”

“I couldn’t say what it is, but it was sent by Mr. Ouroboros Codswallop, who I believe you’re acquainted with? He sent this note for you. He apologizes that he couldn’t bring it in person, he’s busy with a routine audit at the office.” She handed him an envelope printed with Codswallop’s office address. He opened it while Comfrey helped her drag the packages up the stairs.

Dear Master Samwell Gotch,

As requested, here are all the files I possess regarding your family finances. Please take your time examining them. I trust you will keep them in pristine condition and keep them private, as these are all the originals. I regret to inform you I will not be able to visit for a few weeks, but I will come to the manor before the summer ends to discuss our next steps and retrieve the files.

I was so pleased to hear that everything was alright after how frightened your young brothers were at my last visit. I do continue to worry that they are being influenced in dangerous ways, and I implore you to remain vigilant for the sake of their impressionable young minds.

Please enjoy the remainder of your summer. I look forward to revisiting your accounts and setting up a regular schedule to meet while you are in school. I’m sure we both appreciate your father’s wisdom in reserving a place for you at the University of Eisengeist, as this will make our meetings much more convenient.

Restpectfully,

Ouroboros Codswallop

Samwell hurried to tip the courier before she left, then headed inside.

“Who’s that from?” Blanewell asked.

“It’s from Mr. Codswallop.”

“…So not presents,” Roywell said to Maxwell, who frowned.

“Onion?” Samwell asked. “This is… I think it’s actually everything. And he says it’s the originals.” He offered the note, and Onion took it to read.

“Hm… Mm-hm…” He raised his eyebrows more and more as he read. “…Well that’s interesting.”

“What?”

Onion shook his head. “…Sending literally everything, and by courier? They’re trustworthy, but this is sensitive information. Says he’s busy for a few weeks?”

“The courier mentioned there was some kind of routine audit.”

Onion looked up sharply. “An audit?”

“…Do financial advisors not get audited?”

The older man laughed. “They do! Usually every few years. But I’ll tell you what, the auditors check every paper in the place. Shipping off all your files while being audited? That’s suspicious as hell.”

“We’re a major account, and quite well-known, surely they’ll notice.”

“He may have his own copies there. I don’t know. Bet he packed all this up in a hurry, though. Wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” He chuckled, handing the note back. “Ohhh this is good. This is real good.”

“Is… so it just happens to be his office’s audit time?”

“…Could be, but like I said, this feels rushed. Might be a targeted audit.” He laughed. “Either way, bad news for our friend.”

“…What about for us?” Samwell frowned.

“I doubt it.” A grin was forming on his face. “You know what we could do? If you really wanna wreck him? This is the time, and we’ve got all the paperwork. Have to get things organized first, but we’ve got all we need and Eisengeist’s just a quick hop away in the Zephyr.”

“…Did you go to jail when they caught you?” Samwell asked quietly, unable to contain a grin of his own.

“Sure did.” Onion laughed. “Sure did, and like he told you, nobody’ll ever hire me to do their finances again.”

“Somebody might,” Samwell said, vibrating with energy. “We should go pay him a visit!”

“Take a couple days to get what we need outta this mess, but that’s just what I was thinking. …Make it a field trip, bring the family,” Onion offered. “We all need a vacation, right? We will after another few days sorting all this out and getting organized, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Can we?” Roywell asked, grinning.

“Sure, I’d love to see that old bag get the wind knocked outta him,” Comfrey agreed. “We’ll make it a week day so we can get there in business hours.”

“We can go for a whole day!” Marya agreed. “Maybe a few! Why not, right? You guys will love Eisengeist, there’s so much to do!”

“We’ve been – but it would be great to go again!” Blanewell said eagerly.

“All right you lot, dinner right now,” Van said, herding them to the dining room. “Still gotta eat. We ain’t leavin’ for a few days, plenty of time.”

“I haven’t told you everything that happened in Bellenuit,” Samwell told his brothers as they headed to the dining room. “But I will now. We’re going to destroy him.”

Roywell, Van, and Monty helped carry the boxes up to the library. Samwell had explained everything about Codswallop and Verity Wiswold, though he’d been vague about Maxwell’s trust fund.

“Of course we’re gonna have to bring this all down again,” Van muttered.

“That’s the nature of things,” Monty sighed.

“I really appreciate the help,” Samwell said. “It’s just – that’s where there’s the most room.”

“Why is paper so heavy?” Roywell groaned.

“You’ve got a whole chunk of tree there,” Onion chuckled. “Almost there, you’ll make it.”

“You’ll help me put it together?” Samwell asked, opening the first box. The papers and files did look like they’d just been thrown in.

“Of course,” Onion said. “This is your fight, but I’m here to help.”

Samwell shook his head. “Touch anything you want this time. This is mostly just organization, and you can probably do it faster than I can.”

“Well I appreciate that. We’re both familiar with it though,” Onion said, smiling. “We’ll see who’s faster.”

“Can I… help at all?” Roywell asked, staring at the boxes.

“Maybe,” Samwell said. “You can definitely watch if you want.”

“This is heavy stuff – not just physically,” Onion agreed. “And your brother and I know it up and down. We can find some things for you to help with, though. If you want.”

Roywell nodded eagerly. “I want to!”

Daisuke dozed in the windowsill while the three of them spread out files and documents bit by bit, using tables, benches, and sometimes the floor. Roywell moved the current financial records they’d shown Codswallop to a side table, pushing them together so they’d fit, and put the corrected version in a neat stack next to it. Then he helped sort out the mass of new papers. He asked questions as they went, and Samwell and Onion started going over what they were looking at.

“This isn’t organized at all,” Samwell grumbled. “He really did just throw things in boxes.”

“Shouldn’t this one be over in the real estate pile?” Roywell asked, taking a paper from the general income stack.

“That…” Samwell looked at it. “Oh, you’re right! That one’s a little ambiguous, but it’s better as real estate. Good eye! …You’re really good at this.”

“Are you surprised?”

“No! Not at all! I know Onion’s been working with you, I know you’ve always done well in math. I just… you actually like it, don’t you?”

“It’s interesting.” Roywell shrugged. “Don’t you think so?”

“…Honestly? No. I can do it, now that we’ve untangled everything. But it’s just… work. Maybe you’re the one who should be handling this.”

Roywell laughed. “Right, because that would do me so much good when you’re the one who’s inheriting and running things.”

Samwell gave him a strange look.

“I can help, though. I’d be happy to help, that would be great!” He grinned. “Maybe I can help you handle the finances.”

Samwell nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea. Well you can help any time, and I’d love to have you working with me.”

It took a few days for the three to get everything organized, and for everyone to pack and prepare for a few days in Eisengeist. On the night before they left, they made a big bonfire on the lawn after sunset.

“You’re not gonna have any furniture left at this rate,” Comfrey said to Samwell as his brothers threw another broken chair into the flames.

“I don’t want to keep broken stuff around anyway. We can get new furniture if we need it – which we probably won’t.”

Comfrey snorted. “Sure, why not, you’ve got the money, right?”

Samwell’s face twitched. “Don’t worry, there will still be plenty to pay for your expeditions.”

She was quiet for a moment. “…Well that’s good to know,” she finally said, a little more quietly.

“Did you think I’d cut off your funding?”

“I knew Longspot would’ve the second he held the reins.”

“…Probably.”

“Well. You’re not your father.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have assumed you were. I know it always skips a generation.”

Samwell frowned. “…I think if that keeps happening, there’s probably something that needs to change.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Comfrey chuckled ruefully.

“Yeah,” Samwell agreed. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay, smart guy. How do you plan to do it, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine every Gotch on Gath would just agree to end the bloodline, and that’s… not really fixing anything anyway. I guess we can start by letting people do what’s right for them instead of what’s always been done and see how that goes, as long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“Even if they’re wrong? Even if they’re wasting opportunities?”

Samwell shrugged. “Even if whoever came before doesn’t like it, yeah.”

Comfrey frowned into the fire as Samwell walked away.

“Maybe next time we do this, I can make my special beans,” offered Daisuke. “I’m still workin’ on the recipe. Gettin’ pretty damn good, though.”

“Beans?” Roywell asked doubtfully, seeing how Maxwell and Johnwell lit up at the suggestion.

“Beans.” He shrugged. “If you want.”

“Yes!” Johnwell and Maxwell both said immediately.

“Those beans are the best I’ve ever had,” Van said, grinning. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

“For now, though,” Monty said, “everyone go find a long stick!”

The boys ran off, and most of the Wind Riders went to get their metal roasting sticks they often used when cooking over a fire.

When the brothers returned, Monty had a bag of marshmallows out. Most of them had decent sticks, but Hatwell’s was much too thick, and…

“Wealwell, did you drag a whole tree over here?” Marya asked.

“It’s just a branch! …With lots of branches on it. I thought it would be good!”

“Wealwell, that thing’s at least three times as big as you are,” Van sighed.

“Not a problem, we can throw it on the fire,” Monty said. “Just pick a nice thin branch from it, you can strip off any side branches and use that. Hatwell, you too. You won’t get a marshmallow on the one you have.”

Hatwell and Wealwell’s eyes unintentionally met, and both looked down at the large branch quickly. Hatwell flung his big stick into the fire in a whirl of sparks. He approached cautiously and watched Wealwell examine each bit of the branch and compare his other brothers’ sticks.

“Hurry up!” Hatwell said after a minute.

“I have to choose the best one,” Wealwell said calmly.

Hatwell frowned and bent down, breaking off a thin branch that had a few bends in it. “Is this good enough?”

“That will do nicely.” Monty smiled. “I should have explained what it was for, that wasn’t your fault.”

“…Yeah.” Hatwell backed away, clutching his stick.

“You go ahead, I need to pick the right stick,” Wealwell said.

“…All right, we’ll get everyone else a marshmallow, and by the time they’re done I’ll be ready for you,” Monty offered. Wealwell didn’t respond, but continued looking at his tree. “Everyone line up, there’s enough for all of us! We’re going to stick the marshmallow firmly on the thin end of the stick, like so. Not too far, but all the way through so it doesn’t fall off in the fire.”

“Should we peel off the bark?” asked Blanewell.

“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you have especially flaky bark on your stick. I think you should be fine.”

“Wealwell, come on,” Hatwell called, “We’re all ready.”

“That’s okay,” Monty said, patting him. “We can get started if he’s not ready. I’ll save him a marshmallow, don’t worry.”

Hatwell frowned, but joined Monty and the others around the fire.

“Now, the best marshmallow in my opinion is a perfect golden-brown. Very difficult to get it that way! It’s best done over a low fire, or even hot coals, so you can maintain the proper distance and heat. Nearly impossible with this roaring fire! So just as good is a slightly burnt one. Now you may catch these on fire! And then you will slowly and carefully bring them a little closer to you, and blow them out. Like so.” He put his marshmallow in the flames, then brought it out. Maxwell, Johnwell, and Hatwell gasped appreciatively at the flame. He blew it out and held up a mostly charred black marshmallow. “Just be careful never to get it close to anyone, it’s quite hot.”

“It’s burned,” Blanewell said.

“Just the outside,” Monty assured him. “It’s got a nice crust, that’s all. Inside, it’s all gooey goodness. It’s a bit hot right now, but we’ll give it a moment and it’ll be good to eat just like this. Or, we can make it even better…” He scraped off his marshmallow on a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate, and covered it with another graham cracker. “Let that melt the chocolate for a moment, and it’s a delightful treat!”

“I like it with some peanut butter,” Daisuke said. “Sticks to yer gut real good.”

“I like mine with berries sometimes!” Marya added.

“Lots of ways you can dress ‘em up,” Van agreed. The Wind Riders started roasting marshmallows, and the Gotch brothers hesitantly joined them.

Hatwell, Maxwell, and Blanewell immediately caught theirs on fire and blew them out. Samwell, Roywell, and Johnwell tried keeping theirs farther away, but they caught fire as well before long.

Wealwell finally strolled over with a perfect stick and Monty handed him a marshmallow. He went up to the fire and stepped back and forth, adjusting his stance before holding up his stick at just the right distance. His feet remained planted, but the rest of him wavered like the flames.

“Well, are you all ready for an adventure?” Sylvio asked, twirling his mustache in one hand in his marshmallow in the other.

“It’s not an adventure, it’s just goin’ to see a bloodsucker get sucker punched,” Comfrey muttered.

“I mean, we’re the ones doing the sucker punching,” Onion pointed out.

“Okay. An adventure in an office in the biggest city on Gath, if that’s your thing.”

“But that’s where world can be changed,” Monty said. “…Perhaps not this particular office. But changing minds, changing laws, can change the way society operates. The biggest changes can’t be made in some far-flung jungle, they have to be made among the people who hold power.”

“Well it’s not what I’d call an adventure.”

“Ah, just gotta expand your definition of adventure,” Onion said, shaking his head. “You got yours, this is ours, right?” He grinned at Samwell and patted Roywell on the shoulder.

“…It’s going to be great, but… I guess not quite an adventure,” Samwell admitted to Comfrey.

“Shut up, yes it will,” Roywell said, shoving his older brother.

“An exciting experience!” Sylvio agreed. “What is an adventure but that?”

Wealwell stepped up to Monty. “Is this the shade of golden brown we should be aiming for?”

Monty turned to see a perfectly toasted golden-brown marshmallow at the end of Wealwell’s stick.

“Yes!” he laughed, patting Wealwell’s back. “Yes it is. Perfection! Wealwell, you contain multitudes. How did you do that?”

Wealwell shrugged, sliding the marshmallow between graham crackers and chocolate. “You said it had to be the right distance so you get the right heat without burning. So I just kept the distance stable as the flames moved. It’s not that hard.” He bit off the marshmallow-coated end of his stick and chewed it up.

Chapter Text

“I know it’s rather silly, but I can’t help but feel a bit… apprehensive,” Sylvio said quietly as they flew early in the morning. “Police forces have it out for me, I’m afraid. Everywhere we go. Particularly in Eisengeist. I’ve had trouble there before, and I can’t imagine they’ve forgotten my face.”

“You ain’t even done anything, relax,” Daisuke muttered.

“You aren’t concerned for yourself?”

“Why? This ain’t Pilby. And if anybody tries to catch me, I’ll outrun ‘em or escape later.” He shrugged. “No problem.”

Sylvio rubbed his arms. “And if it were just us, I would have no problem with that. But with the children…”

“Mm. I get ya.” Daisuke rubbed his chin, then smiled. “Know what we could do? Remember when y’all was chasin’ after me back in Pilby, ‘58?”

Sylvio’s eyes lit up. “Ah! I catch your meaning!”

A few minutes later they were adjusting each other’s shawls and wigs, adding bits of makeup.

“Not too much, wouldn’t wanna look like I just stepped outta a cat house,” Daisuke muttered in a high voice.

“Well a bit more on me please, I’d like to not look washed out,” Sylvio said.

“Um.”

The two turned to see the Gotches staring at them. They straightened up.

“Did you need somethin’?” Daisuke asked, pitching his voice up.

“I… have to know what’s happening here,” Samwell said.

“Just a bit of insurance for our safety and ease of passage,” Sylvio crooned. “This is Annabelle.”

“I’m Annabelle,” Daisuke said, swishing his skirts back and forth. “And this’s…”

“Belladonna,” Sylvio supplied, curtseying.

“…Like deadly nightshade?” Blanewell asked.

“Ah, you know your botany! Well done! Matching names with my sister here.”

“You don’t look much alike,” Maxwell said.

“Different father on my side,” Sylvio said.

“Different momma on mine,” Daisuke added.

“Oh, we got Annabelle onboard!” Comfrey said, laughing as she strolled over. She gave Annabelle a peck on the cheek. “Ain’t that a treat!”

“Does everybody dress up?” Hatwell asked. “I didn’t see anybody else doing it.”

“Just the two of us,” Sylvio said. “To avoid any undue trouble.”

“How many times have you been arrested?” Johnwell asked worriedly.

“Not very many, I assure you! …Mainly just detained for questioning. I thought it prudent to avoid such bothersome matters. …And purple really is my color.” He smiled.

“It really is!” Marya called, looking down from the open door of the steering cabin. “Coming down, everybody hold on!”

“How many times have you been arrested?” Hatwell asked Daisuke.

“Oh, just a time or twelve,” Daisuke said, fluttering his hand. “Or twenty. Two hundred? Who keeps track of those things?”

“Do you just… shoot them and escape?”

“Oh land sakes, no!” He laughed in his high voice. “No need to be shootin’ all the time when I can just slip out like an eel.” He wiggled.

“Mostly he picks the locks,” Montgomery said, shaking his head. “Or talks his way out of it, then runs.”

“I squeezed through the bars once or twice.”

“…All right then, once or twice.”

“Can we see where they make skyships?” Maxwell asked eagerly, looking around as they landed at the docks.

“We have to go to Codswallop’s office first,” Samwell said quietly. “If you don’t want to go, maybe some of you can go do something else –“

“No, I want to see that,” Maxwell said, flexing his fists. “Can I just punch him once?”

“Or more,” Hatwell suggested.

“I’d really like to,” Samwell said regretfully. “Really.”

“Men like that, if you punch their lights out you get different people coming after you over and over, and more and more trouble,” Onion said, shaking his head. “We want to get you out of trouble, not in more.”

“I’m gonna get a coffee and sit in the shop across the street,” Onion murmured as they got close.

“You’re not coming in?”

“Oh no. Last thing you need is to be seen with me, especially here.” He chuckled. “I know you’ve got this handled. You tell me all about it afterwards though, I want to hear how you made him shit himself.”

“You’re not concerned with being… recognized on the street?” Samwell glanced at Daisuke and Sylvio, or Annabelle and Belladonna.

“Not that concerned.” He chuckled. “Besides, I don’t have the legs for a skirt. But I’ll be watching.” He looked around at the others. “If any of you wanna sit it out, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Tempting, but this is gonna be funny,” Haunch muttered. Maxwell and Hatwell looked torn, but decided to stick with the others.

Samwell took a deep breath, glanced around at the others and the collection of boxes on a little steam-powered cart, and led the way across the street. A little bell rang as he opened the door, and he noted a number of people looking through paperwork around the office. Codswallop was talking to someone in the back behind a low partition.

“Mr. Codswallop!” Samwell called out, smiling. Everyone looked up. Codswallop immediately looked guarded. “I hope it’s not a bad time. I heard you had an audit going on, so I wanted to make sure I got all that paperwork back to you in time. I wouldn’t want you to have any trouble over that.”

Codswallop sputtered.

“I was hoping you’d have a little time to go over a few discrepancies I found between our current and past records, too. Mostly concerning interest rates and additional fees.”

The others, whether auditors or partners in the office, were all watching him now as well.

“I was having a lot of trouble with it at first, but I really appreciate you sending all the original files by courier. I didn’t realize that was something that could be done, I would have asked sooner! Anyway, I see I was struggling to resolve the numbers because it looks like there are some errors. Comparing your records to Father’s, but especially Grandfather’s, I found some different numbers. …I brought it all so you can take a look, I’m sure you’ll want to make corrections.”

“I – I find it highly unlikely that there are any mistakes, I’m sure you simply misunderstood the… complexities of accounting. Or perhaps you were looking at a different document altogether,” Codswallop said quickly. “This is all very confusing, I understand. …And those are certainly not the originals, I of course kept those safe and sound here.” He gestured to a large set of neat files, not quite as large as Samwell’s. “And they look a bit of a mess. I’m sure you were looking at the wrong file, young Master Samwell.”

“It was a mess when you sent them, we had to sort them all out,” Roywell spoked up, watching his eyes dart around.

“…I’m sorry, your letter stated that these were the originals.” Samwell pulled the letter out of his jacket. “And you’ve always said you were the one person I could trust with our finances.”

Their eyes met, and Codswallop quickly looked away. Samwell’s gaze didn’t move.

“I – this… this is a breach of privacy and confidentiality,” the older man muttered. “Clearly these have been forged.” He turned to the auditors, who were listening intently. “Regrettably the Gotch family has fallen into the hands of common criminals.” He gestured to the Wind Riders. “I have made every efforts to remove them from these… bad influences…”

“Montgomery LaMontgommery, so pleased to meet you,” Monty said warmly to one of the auditors near the front of the office. “I did bring some signed bookmarks in case anyone has children.”

“If there’s a discrepancy, you can compare them all,” Samwell offered, gesturing to the cart of paperwork. “I hope you will, I’d like to get any issues sorted out. Every one of the Wind Riders has been nothing but helpful and supportive in this troubling time, though. …And as I told you, I didn’t let anyone else handle the files when I was working on them.”

“We’ll definitely want to look through these,” the auditor who had been talking to Codswallop said, stepping forward. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Samwell said, shaking her hand. “…Can I ask if someone called for this audit?”

“I can’t tell you much, it’s a confidential matter at the moment,” she said. “But Verity Wiswold over in Bellenuit requested that we investigate this office.”

“Oh, Grandfather’s financial adviser. The one you told me lived in Gastonet.” Samwell smiled.

“That – Longspot Gotch’s funds are mine alone to manage –“ Codswallop said quickly.

“But not Cadswitch Gotch’s,” Samwell interrupted him. “And certainly not ours.”

“I – I beg your pardon?” Codswallop turned to the auditors again. “I am managing the Gotch family accounts, as you know. They – the children are still grieving, he’s not making any sense! Completely unreasonable.”

Samwell’s fists clenched. He turned to his brothers, meeting each of their gazes quickly. “…One hit each if you want,” he muttered. “Just one.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Six boys surged forward, punching and kicking and jabbing and headbutting.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m terribly sorry,” Samwell said loudly, hurrying over as Codswallop cried out in pain and surprise. “They’re grieving. Forgive them for being… unreasonable.” Under cover of his brothers’ flailing limbs, he kicked out at Codswallop with all his might. With a shriek, the man crumpled to the ground.

“So sorry, I’m so sorry,” Samwell said lightly, shepherding his brothers back to the Wind Riders. “Just… really hard to be reasonable at a time like this.”

“Shame he was standing in the back, I would’ve loved to see that,” Onion chuckled. They all sat around with ice cream and coffee.

“It was a sight.” Van grinned, rubbing Hatwell’s hair. “Even if this one keeps tryin’ to crack his head open.”

“He would’ve cracked before I did,” Hatwell said, smiling up at her.

“My boy here took him down like a pro,” Daisuke said in Annabelle’s high voice, a hand on Samwell’s back.

“I think I broke his leg,” Samwell admitted, unable to stop smiling.

“Nice one!” Marya cheered.

“So… I told them we’d be in town for a few days, and they obviously have our contact information… What happens next?” Samwell asked, flushed with success.

“Well like Codswallop said, the audit will take a few weeks. I’m sure they’ll want to get to your boxes pretty quick, but you know it’s a lot. Tricky to move things around right now, I wouldn’t try it if I were you. But as soon as they’re done, you wanna get your accounts out of there.”

“I do,” Samwell agreed. “…Would you be willing to manage them? I wouldn’t expect you to put too much effort into it, just keep things moving in the right direction, at least while I’m in school.”

“Hold on now, you can’t be taking the best accountant in the world away from me,” Comfrey said.

“No, of course not!” Samwell said quickly. “Just… if he has time. And would be willing.”

“Hm… Well I’m living the good life on the Zephyr.” Onion flashed a grin at Comfrey. “I’ve got a little time. Guess I could keep a hand in it for you, as long as you keep an eye on things too. And Roywell, when he’s got time. I’m going all over the world, I can’t keep close track of market trends on the move sometimes. And whenever I’m in the area, we can meet up to discuss how things are going, how’s that sound? For… what, four years? Eight maybe if you continue on?”

“No more than eight,” Samwell agreed quickly. “…Unless you’d want to.”

“Well, let’s reevaluate in a few years. You could check in with Verity Wiswold, see if she’s taking on new clients too.”

Samwell nodded. “Definitely. You’re my first choice, though.”

“Can’t think of anyone else who’d ask me that these days,” Onion chuckled.

Samwell looked over at Comfrey. “I assume he’s taken good care of your accounts.”

“Like I said, best there is!”

He nodded. “All right, then. …That would mean a lot to all of us.” The others nodded too, Roywell the most.

“So, we’re figurin’ a few days here?” Daisuke asked, brushing back his long blonde hair.

“Are you going to be… Annabelle and Belladonna the whole time?” Blanewell asked.

“We certainly are,” Sylvio giggled, his tone a bit too high and crazed. “Did you want to join in?”

Blanewell froze. “Oh. Um. …You don’t have another wig, do you?” He took a big bite of his mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.

“I think we can turn a -well into a -bell,” Daisuke said, grinning.

“You… dress like this a lot?” Hatwell asked, eyeing the group. Everyone was still riding high after the encounter with Codswallop, and had been nonchalant about this since the beginning.

“Been a while,” Daisuke admitted, adjusting his sleeves. “Still fits just fine, though.”

“Only once or twice, but Daisuke’s much more skilled than I am in the mirror,” Sylvio said.

“It’s harder to do on yourself, you do real nice too.” Daisuke flashed a smile.

Hatwell looked at Samwell, who shrugged and smiled. He looked at Van on his left, who was totally at ease. He looked at Roywell on his right, hardly paying attention. He glanced at Maxwell, who looked a little bored.

Okay. He took a bite of his toffee swirl cone and settled back in his seat.

“We can certainly fix you up,” Sylvio was saying. “I will say, a good disguise kit is a vital piece of equipment on an adventure.”

“Got a bald cap in there too, you can be a completely different guy,” Daisuke added.

“I don’t want to be bald,” Blanewell said quickly.

“I dunno, I’m a fan.” Daisuke shrugged. “We can pick you up a kit if you want, though.”

“We can go shopping, see the shipyard, ride the tram, try all kinds of foods, there are beautiful metal sculptures…” Marya said. “You can get almost any vegetable here! They aren’t always fresh, but you can get them!”

“Like… lettuce?” asked Roywell.

“Carrots?” said Maxwell.

“Artichokes?” suggested Wealwell.

Marya hesitated and pointed to him. “Artichokes! That is one I haven’t had. Wealwell, you and I will find an artichoke!”

“Yeah, maybe we can split up tomorrow, get up to some trouble!” Comfrey winked. “Loads of fun stuff to do around here. Great to get outta the house, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Samwell admitted.

“We used to go on summer trips sometimes when we were little,” Roywell said. “Out to the Kabillian Isles or New Frumbia or the Uplands.”

“Hey, you guys have done some traveling, that’s great!” Comfrey said.

“It wasn’t,” Roywell and Blanewell said at the same time, and a few of the others shook their heads.

“We had to sit quietly and walk slowly,” Hatwell muttered resentfully.

“We didn’t get to do anything fun,” added Blanewell.

“Mostly we were just left with nannies,” Samwell said. “And then when we got older Father decided it was a waste to have us there if we weren’t going to do anything… which it was, I guess…”

“I don’t even remember it,” Maxwell complained, and Johnwell nodded.

“It was boring, we might as well have stayed home,” Hatwell muttered.

“It was even boring just standing,” Wealwell agreed.

“Yeah, this’ll be better,” Van said. “We can do all kinds of good stuff, how ‘bout that. Nobody’s gonna have to sit around.”

“Wonderful!” Montgomery smiled. “Let’s try to get to know someone we don’t know as well, that’ll be nice.”

The boys looked around doubtfully.

“Sure, good idea, gotta be good with all your crewmates, right?” Van agreed. “Then we can all meet back up later.”

Chapter Text

“All right, how ‘bout it?” Comfrey grinned at Maxwell. “I’ll show you around the shipyard. I know they’re workin’ on some new stuff I’d like to see myself.”

“…Okay,” Maxwell said, torn between the desire to staunchly reject her and the desire to see the ships.

“You know, your grandpa and I used to talk skyships all the time. He was crazy about this stuff. Y’know, he and I designed his own personal skyship together.”

“…The one that crashed,” Maxwell said quietly.

“Oh. …Yeah.” Comfrey patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Hey, I’m sorry, kid. Really. I loved him too, and I miss him every day. Still hard to believe he’s gone. I know how you feel.”

Maxwell looked up at her, then looked ahead again.

“…Not really good at talking about this kind of thing,” Comfrey muttered. “But anyway! Oh, your grandpa was proud of you.”

“He told me to stay on the ground,” Maxwell murmured.

“I didn’t agree with him on that, but that was his business.” She smiled. “Glad you’re followin’ your own heart now. That’s the way forward! That’s what I did. They told me I couldn’t fly, told me to stay on the ground, and I sure showed them!” They walked into the shipyard. “Here we go. Look at all this progress! See that? All these ships have friodynamic balloons to bring ‘em up, I developed that myself!”

“That’s what Van said. You and her.”

“Well yeah, she was a big help!” She pointed up. “There’s some real sleek designs comin’ out now, I like the look of those. Plannin’ something like that for the Zephyr Mark II! And look at that, they’re developing bigger balloons for bigger crafts! More lift, but less maneuverability. But they’re working on that. And less stability in the balloons. Have to find a different material to use.” She rubbed her chin, gazing out over the ships. “Right now these big ones are only good for freight barges. Still gotta have some touch little ships around to keep shovin’ them all where they need to be. But we’ll get there! …Then they’re workin’ on other sources of lift, got a long way to go with that.” She chuckled dismissively. “Still, good to see somebody else doin’ some of the work. Always movin’ forward, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Maxwell looked around. “What about those smaller crafts? With the wings?”

“Oh those are fine. Good as lifeboats! Good for gettin’ down to the ground, or in tight spots. They’ve got their place in the sky, for sure. But you can only get one person on ‘em. Two, at most. Might as well just use a glider and ride the wind wherever it takes you.” She glanced down and saw his wide eyes. “…You wanna find a glider?” she whispered, leaning down to him.

His eyes grew huge. She grinned manically.

They searched the shipyard, and found two gliders before long. Comfrey slipped up to an empty watch tower with Maxwell, dragging their gliders along with them. She helped him open his and showed him the basic steering controls.

“Just try not to hit anything! I’ll follow behind you. Ready?”

“I… I don’t know,” Maxwell said, frozen on the edge of the walkway.

“That’s the best time to fly!” She gave him a push and he yelped, clutching the hand bar as he swooped down, caught the wind, and glided up. Comfrey followed, laughing.

“Straighten out your legs, quit tryin’ to scrunch up!” she yelled ahead. Slowly he did so, and his path evened out. “There ya go!” She swooped around to fly next to him. “Isn’t it great?”

He nodded, trembling but almost smiling.

“We’re flying now! Whole world’s below us, kid!”

Maxwell laughed a little, then coughed as he inhaled smog.

“Don’t worry, that’s pure coal! All natural!”

They flew over the city, coasting on updrafts for a while before eventually lowering, coming down to land in a quiet square. Maxwell’s glider caught on a statue holding a stone sword aloft, and he gasped as he was jerked back.

“No problem, no problem!” Comfrey called, circling elegantly down for a smooth landing on the ground. “I’ve got you, hold on!” She took off the glider and bounded over, grabbing his legs. “I’ve got you, just take it off and we’ll get you down.”

Fingers shaking with cold and adrenaline, Max unbuckled himself and let her pull him down to set him back on the ground.

“Well!” She grinned and pushed his shoulder gently. “Wasn’t that exhilarating? Doesn’t it make you want to just fly forever and never come down?”

“It was fun,” Maxwell admitted, grinning.

There was a soft thump and a grunt from the street on the other side of the statue, and they both peered around it to see two men fighting. Max caught his breath. They were big and muscular, one with just a thin shirt and one with a torn jacket. Sweat poured down their faces as they punched and grappled and shoved each other.

“Big city life, huh kid?” Comfrey laughed softly. “…Oh.” Maxwell was walking away from her, towards the fight. She followed him and caught his shoulder before he got too close.

“You’re a fighter, huh? Your grandpa was into that too, just didn’t talk about it much.” She grinned. “Look at that – his left’s wide open!”

Maxwell’s fist curled.

“Guy on the left’s getting tired, he should – ooh!” Comfrey winced and Maxwell jumped as the man went down. “Let’s see if he gets up. If he’s smart, he’ll stay down. …I’d get up.” She grinned wildly.

“Me too,” Max breathed, eyes glued to the fighters.

“What’s yer problem, bring the grandkid for a spectator sport?” the winner growled, advancing on Comfrey now.

Comfrey’s eyes glinted. “I’m never a spectator!” She jumped forward the punched him in the jaw. Maxwell gasped.

“I wouldn’t hit an old lady, but if you’re startin’ it,” rumbled the man, grabbing her jacket and pulling back his fist.

Comfrey grabbed his arm and swung up, kicking him hard in the stomach. Maxwell ducked around to punch him hard in the side. The man roared and swung Comfrey around at Max, but the boy had already danced out of the way and she swung around, planting herself while he was off-balance and shoved him fast. Maxwell kicked the back of his leg and Comfrey smashed the butt of her knife into the back of his head. He went down hard.

“Nice work, kid!” She clapped him on the back and hugged him around the shoulders. “We’ll make a rowdy of you yet!”

“I’m already a rowdy!” Maxwell declared breathlessly, grinning.

“Most of these are machine prototypes,” Haunch said, strolling through the city park dotted with huge metal sculptures. “Got some pretty weird automata here. You see a few like that around, but mostly these are made for art. Not meant to be really used.” It had been a long walk from their rented rooms, but they’d gotten to see a lot on the way and Haunch had picked out a few spots he’d like to visit later when he didn’t have an eleven-year-old tagging along. Not that it was that bad, just… some places you didn’t bring kids to.

Johnwell looked around in awe at massive shapes, draconic and centaurine and crawling figures… He had to draw some of these when he got back to the privacy of his own room. “So they’re… you could turn them on? And they’d be… alive?” He wasn’t sure if that was the right word for automata.

“Nah, these are all just shells. They don’t got the right stuff inside.”

Johnwell looked up at a humanoid figure with a long giraffe neck tied in a loose knot and bending down to look at the ground.

“You draw, right?”

The boy looked up sharply. He was trying not to breathe too deeply here, it made him cough. “…A little.”

“Sylvio said you were good. Not my thing, but this… this is really cool. Kinda like drawing, yeah? You’re… making whatever you imagine.”

Johnwell nodded cautiously.

“You can do sculptures out of just about anything. I see a lot of stone and metal, but you can do wood or paper or… I don’t know, anything. I’ve seen ‘em made from dishes. Real creative people out here. The metal here, it’s a matter of welding or making the right joints, depending on how you want it to move. …If you want it to move.”

Johnwell covered a cough.

“…I don’t know, you like this kinda stuff?” Haunch asked. “I think it’s pretty cool. Thought you might too.”

Johnwell nodded, coughing more.

“I do a little –“ Haunch paused, frowning. “You okay? Need a drink of water?”

Johnwell nodded. He wasn’t sure he could speak now.

“Yeah, got it. Come on, I got you. …Fucking smog’s everywhere around here.”

Haunch pulled Johnwell along to a shop and bought him some water, which he sipped between wheezes.

“Shit. You don’t look great. C’mon, let’s get outta this smog.” He scooped up the boy and headed out to the lift that carried people up to the viewing deck of a tower above the fetid clouds. Johnwell sat in the enclosed car and sipped at his water while Haunch hunched next to him, glaring at anyone who looked at them. By the time they reached the top Johnwell was breathing a little easier.

“Feel better?”

Johnwell nodded.

“Good. You don’t have to talk if that makes it worse, just take it easy. Come on, it’ll be nice out there.” He kept close to the boy as they stepped out onto the viewing deck, and snorted. “Used to be you could see the whole city from here. You could probably see all the way to your house. Now it’s just smog. …But you can see the skyships coming in. Here, sit.”

Johnwell took a slow breath and nodded, sitting down on a cast iron bench with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, we’ll sit for a while,” Haunch said, settling next to him. They sat quietly for a while, and Haunch listened to the boy’s breathing slowly return to normal. “…Feel better?”

“I’m fine,” Johnwell said quietly. “Thank you. Sorry.”

“Nothin’ to worry about,” Haunch assured him. “Been wantin’ to just relax for a while anyway. The Zephyr crew’s great – and you kids are fine too, better’n I expected, I got no problems with you – but I work hard on the ship and I’d rather just sit sometimes. I was sayin’ though, I’ve tried some metal sculptures. Nothing fancy. Never managed to make anything I wanted to show off. But when I’m bored in the furnace room and need somethin’ to keep my hands busy, I do a bit of whittling.”

“…What’s that?” Johnwell asked. His throat was still raw and he was worn out, but he did feel better.

“You know, wood carving? Just a block of wood and a knife. People do all kinds of fancy shit – I’ve seen people carve a whole chain out of just one stick. Real detailed little figures, fancy spoons, whatever you want. Mostly I make mountains.”

“…Mountains?” Johnwell murmured.

“Easiest thing.” He pulled a knife and a little block of wood out of his pocket and began to cut at an angle, turning it as he went. “Just like that. Goin’ for a cone shape, but it’s not gonna be rounded, so it’ll be a mountain.” After a few minutes he held up a rough point of wood. “See?”

“Oh.”

“…It ain’t much on its own, but if I put a bunch of these together I could make a whole range.”

Johnwell’s eyebrows rose.

“And, um… I make some better stuff too sometimes.” He hesitated. “Not a lot better. Just… y’know, more complicated than… just shaving a point.”

“Like what?”

Haunch hesitated. “…Okay, well I’m not a professional. I’m no artist. Just – it’s somethin’ to pass the time, that’s all.”

Johnwell nodded.

“…Well I’ve got this.” He pulled out of his pocket a rough wooden shape. Johnwell stared at it for a long moment.

“It’s… a fish?”

“It’s a bird.” Haunch frowned.

“Oh no, I see it!” Johnwell said quickly. “It’s sitting. There’s the wings and it’s sticking its head out.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “…I guess it looks a little like a fish too,” he admitted.

“I like it!” Johnwell assured him quickly. “It’s good!”

“I know it ain’t good,” Haunch muttered. “It’s just to pass the time, like I said. It doesn’t have to be good.”

“No, I like it! And… and it could nest in the mountains.”

“I don’t keep those,” Haunch chuckled. “Usually throw ‘em into the fire with the scraps.”

“Oh…”

“No space for that on the ship. I can show you how some time, though. It ain’t hard, anybody can make a mountain. Just gotta watch your fingers.”

“I’m careful,” Johnwell said quickly.

“Yeah, you seem like you are.” Haunch smiled a little. “Better’n me anyway, I cut up my fingers all the time.” He spread out scarred hands to show Johnwell. “Don’t wanna end up like me.”

“…I’d keep your mountains,” Johnwell offered. “We’ve got lots of room.”

“Yeah?”

Johnwell nodded.

“Well… okay. Yeah, if I make any that are worth holding onto… sure you can have ‘em.”

“I’ll make a mountain range.” Johnwell smiled. “All around my room.”

“Do you know what an artichoke looks like?” Marya asked quietly, walking through the produce market with Wealwell. There were all kinds of leaves and roots and stalks, flowers and fruits and things she couldn’t identify.

“Of course! Don’t you have vegetables where you come from?”

“No. We have no vegetables in Scrapsylvania. That is why I love them so much! So exotic!”

Wealwell turned to look at her. “I don’t know how I’d get by without salads. I can even make one myself. Maxwell says it’s good, and he doesn’t even like salad.”

“I love salad,” Marya sighed longingly.

“I’ll make you a salad!” he declared. “It will be my best work.”

“Well I look forward to that!” She laughed. “Thank you, Wealwell. …So what are you into? Other than standing, creeping around, and salad.”

“I like… beautiful things. I like music. I like Maxwell.” He paused. “…Some of the others are okay. Sometimes.”

“Well, I think that’s fair. Are they mean to you?”

“Oh yes. Although… not as much now.” He frowned. “Samwell is good, but he’s so busy. Roywell and Blanewell mostly ignore me or don’t want to listen to me. But they’ve been talking to me more lately. Johnwell’s okay sometimes. Maxwell’s my favorite, I love him. Hatwell usually hits me whenever he sees me… but he’s hasn’t tried in over a week.”

“Well maybe he is growing up! You all are!”

“No…” Wealwell said slowly. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Well either way… an improvement, right?”

Wealwell nodded, then pointed. “Look, there’s an artichoke!”

“Where?” Marya spun around. Wealwell led her to a thing that looked like a wilted rubbery flower. “…You can eat that? I thought it was decoration. Do you… pick off the leaves and put them in salad?”

“I don’t think so… it looks different when it’s prepared,” Wealwell said slowly. “Maybe you boil it in salt water.”

“You cut off the top half and roast it with oil an’ salt,” said the vendor. “It’s a treat.”

“This one looks bad,” Wealwell said.

“It’s fine, what do you know?”

“Scrawny and sad.” He poked it.

“All right, get away from my shop if you’re too good for my fine foods,” grumbled the shopkeeper.

“Come on Wealwell, we can find a better one,” Marya said loudly, putting her arm around him. “A nice fresh one that doesn’t look like somebody threw it down a mine shaft.”

The next artichoke they found looked worse.

“We may have to just settle for what’s here,” Marya said.

“We can do better than that,” Wealwell said, looking scornfully at the moldy vegetable before them.

“Okay, well I don’t want to leave without one, so we’re going to take what we can get eventually.”

“Let’s keep looking,” Wealwell pleaded, then looked up. There was a twangy strumming sound in the distance.

“You like the guitar?” Marya asked. “Do you play?”

“That’s a banjo,” Wealwell said. “I can play piano, harp, bassoon, and triangle. Father said the banjo is a crass, simple instrument. I asked.”

She clapped him on the shoulder hard. “Wealwell, you are getting a banjo today.”

“Really?”

“I will buy you a banjo if you buy me an artichoke, how about that?”

“Marya, you’re my favorite today,” he declared, and immediately disappeared into the crowd.

“Oh – er… Wealwell!”

By the time she ran into him again, Marya was carrying a banjo. She hadn’t grown up with any money at all, and hadn’t been able to buy anything for herself, much less anyone else, until the past couple of years when Comfrey had found her. Since then she had money for little things, and was able to pull from the ship’s safe whenever she wanted for larger purchases. She’d been buying her friends and crewmates little gifts whenever she wanted.

…And Wealwell could afford to buy every banjo in the world, she realized as she was walking out the door with a banjo in her hands. Probably a nicer one. One that wasn’t second-hand and a bit worn around the edges. She hesitated, clutching it to her chest and wavering, on the verge of taking it back and returning it.

“Is that for me?” Wealwell asked, appearing out of the crowd, eyes wide. “You… you really got it? For me?”

“Oh… yeah! Yeah, I… I found you a banjo, Wealwell. It’s… well, it will be fine to learn on,” she said slowly, offering it to him a little shyly.

He took it slowly, cradling the instrument and running his fingers all over it. He looked up again after a moment.

“That is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he said softly.

“…Really?”

“That, or when Maxwell gave me half of his lemon cookie last year.” Wealwell grinned.

“Oh. Well, that does sound close.” Marya laughed. The banjo had been worth it, either way.

“It’s perfect, it’s already broken in! It won’t be stiff and hard to use.”

“…Exactly!” Marya smiled at him. “I was thinking of you! It’ll be easier on your fingers.”

“Here.” Wealwell pulled a large, plump artichoke with purple tips on each segment out of his jacket and offered it to her.

“Wow! That looks so good!” She took it carefully, examining it all over. “We can try to cook it tonight. And we can see if anyone can teach you how to play the banjo. I think Monty can play a little.”

Wealwell gave the instrument a loud, discordant strum. “I can figure it out!”