The Spare's Empire

[lum]

While the mysterious pots remained firmly closed, her father entered.

He was already reading one of his ledgers, spectacles perched low on his nose as he turned a page without even looking where he was going.

Then, somewhat miraculously, when he reached her, he paused just long enough to lean down and kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning, little lady."

"Morning, father."

“Did you sleep well?”

“Sure…”

“Excellent.”

He turned another page. “Hmm…”

Lilium waited.

Nothing. He just kept on reading.

Her gaze shifted.

Cook continued stirring.

Her father took a seat and looked up only briefly at her. “Could you pass me the honey?”

She handed him the little pot without a word.

"Thank you."

He spooned a little into his tea without ever closing the ledger.

Silence.

Lilium waited another few heartbeats.

Still nothing?

She looked from Father...to Cook...to the tied-down pots...and back again.

Then the tiniest smile crept across her face.

Very well then.

If everyone else intended to pretend today was a day like any other…

...then she would pretend it was, too.

"Cook?" she asked in a light-hearted way.

"Mm?"

"May I help with breakfast?"

Cook nearly dropped his spoon. Yet he recovered with remarkable speed.

"... Help?"

"Mhm."

He looked at the three tightly covered pots, then at the girl, then back at the pots.

"I'm afraid...that… ehm…"

His eyes drifted upward, as though inspiration might be hiding somewhere in the rafters.

“... I’m fully staffed today.”

Lilium frowned as she looked around, seeing no one else but Cook, herself and her father.

“Oh.”

Cook nodded. “Yes. But another time, ok?”

She nodded gravely.

Before either could continue, the back door swung open.

Porter stepped inside carrying a wooden crate wrapped so thoroughly in coarse canvas that not a single corner of it remained visible. Thick twine crisscrossed the bundle several times before disappearing beneath an extravagant knot.

He froze in his tracks the moment he noticed Lilium.

“... Oh… hello little miss.”

“Morning, Porter.”

Cook looked up as well, noticing how Lilium looked from Porter to him and back.

Then her gaze dropped to the bundle.

“What is that?”

Porter looked down as though he had only just remembered he was carrying it.

“What is… oh… This?”

“Yes… That.”

He frowned thoughtfully.

"Erhm… This is… Crate."

Lilium blinked.

“I can see that? But what kind of crate?”

Porter shifted it awkwardly beneath one arm.

"The... wooden kind."

Lilium glanced over her shoulder.

Cook however suddenly became extraordinarily interested in stirring his soup. Her father seemed occupied with some math.

Lilium folded her arms. "I've seen wooden crates before. I meant, what’s inside?"

Porter scratched at his beard.

"I've only been instructed..." he hesitated a moment. "...to transport it."

"I see. To where?"

He looked around the kitchen.

Cook stared intensely into his soup, and Master Corvin was lost in the world of numbers.

Porter lowered his voice. "Now I've forgotten…"

"You've forgotten?"

"I had it written down."

"...Where?"

He patted his lower pockets. Then the upper.

His expression grew increasingly theatrical.

Lilium tilted her head. “Let me guess. You lost your note?”

"It would appear so."

Lilium looked from Porter...

...to Cook...

...back to Porter.

Then she smiled the smallest smile.

"Perhaps Father knows."

All the heads turned to Lilium’s father.

Master Corvin slowly finished the line he was reading.

He made one final note in the margin.

Only then did he look over the top of his spectacles, and only then did he notice the people looking at him.

"Hm?"

Porter cleared his throat.

"I appear to have... temporarily misplaced the destination for this crate."

"I see." Corvin regarded the bundle for a thoughtful moment. "Well that’s unfortunate."

"Quite,” Porter nodded.

Another pause.

Lilium waited.

Surely Father would solve it.

Instead, he took a sip of tea.

"Well," he said calmly, "you'd best remember, then."

Porter blinked, "...Yes, sir."

Silence settled over the kitchen once more.

Lilium looked from one man to the other.

Neither seemed remotely concerned that a mysterious crate had apparently lost its destination.

She folded her arms.

"I could read the shipping mark..." she tried.

Porter's eyes widened ever so slightly.

[lum]

Crates had always been one of Lilium’s favorite objects. The quality of the hinges, their dimensions, weight, sender and destination, and whether they were locked or not often hinted at what might be inside.

Porter glanced down at the crate," ...Unfortunately..."

Lilium crouched before he could continue.

The shipping mark had been covered by another carefully nailed plank.

Of course.

She looked up.

"... why is the label covered?"

Porter answered a little too quickly.

"To protect it from the rain. I mean... there had been a hole there. Before. We… I repaired it."

Lilium slowly rose to her feet.

“So… indoor rain huh.”

Cook made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone swallowing a laugh.

Her father cleared his throat into his teacup.

"We're a very progressive household," Porter replied with complete seriousness.

For a heartbeat no one moved.

Then Lilium smiled. "I shall have to keep an eye on the ceilings."

Porter gave a solemn nod, tucked the crate more securely beneath his arm, and headed for the door.

Halfway there he stopped.

"Oh..."

Everyone looked at him.

"I've remembered."

"You have?" Lilium asked.

"Yes."

"The destination?"

"No."

"The note?"

"No."

"...Then… what?"

He smiled.

"I remembered not to forget where I put it next time."

With that wonderfully unhelpful observation, he disappeared into the corridor.

The kitchen remained silent for another heartbeat.

Her father quietly turned another page in his ledger. Then he looked over at her. “I’ve remembered something as well.”

Lilium brightened.

Finally.

“You did?”

“Yes. There is a small message you need to deliver. It is however of the utmost importance the seal is not broken.”

“Oh… hmm… sure… I… can do that. Who’s it for?”

Her father lifted an envelop from his ledger and handed it over to her. “For the baker.”

“Oh…”

Cook resumed stirring his pot.

Lilium looked at both of them. She waited a moment, and then gave up.

Fine…

Before she knew she was outside the kitchen and on her way to the front hall.

Halfway down the corridor, she suddenly stopped as a dreadful realization washed over her.

Her belly produced a loud, unmistakable rumble.

Her eyes widened.

...Impossible.

She turned back toward the kitchen.

The door had already closed.

She looked toward the front hall, one hand holding the letter, her other over her belly.

This was the first time in her entire life she had left the kitchen without food!

Hmm…

Duty… or breakfast…

She sighed with all the weight a teenager could summon.

"This," she muttered to herself, "must be what Father means by responsibility."

With that, she continued toward the bakery.

[lum]

Her stomach objected the entire way.

This better be quick…

The familiar little bell above the bakery door chimed as Lilium stepped inside.

The shop’s warmth greeted her instantly.

The clay oven that dominated the far end of the room, glowed red from wood embers banked deep inside. Dim shafts of early morning light pierced the small, shuttered windows at the side, cutting through rising flour dust and woodsmoke.

“H.. hello?”

It was still really early. Quiet too.

Her stomach voiced its opinion once again when her nose picked up the scent of fresh bread, cinnamon, butter and honey.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite messenger."

The baker’s wife emerged from the backdoor and smiled at her.

Lilium offered the sealed envelope. "Father asked me to deliver this."

The woman accepted it without breaking the seal immediately.

"Thank you."

Lilium waited.

The woman looked at the envelope.

Then at Lilium.

“Oh! I have to read it right now. So today.”

Lilium tilted her head. “What’s today?”

The baker’s wife blinked. “Wh… oh! To-day? Today is market day.”

“Wasn’t it market day yesterday?”

The woman cleared her throat. “Eh, yes, but now is a double market day.”

Lilium narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "I've never heard of that."

"It's... very exclusive."

"So exclusive nobody talks about it?"

"Exactly.”

Right…

The baker's wife hurriedly broke the seal and unfolded the note.

As she read, her smile softened.

"Ah, yes."

Without another word she disappeared through the doorway leading into the kitchens.

Lilium remained where she was.

From somewhere in the back came hurried whispers.

Then someone laughed.

The baker's wife shushed them immediately.

Lilium craned her neck curiously.

Silence.

A moment later the baker himself emerged carrying a square wooden box tied with a simple rope. The knot however was secured under a wax seal.

He held it with almost ceremonial care.

"Master Corvin asked that this be returned to him."

He placed it carefully into Lilium's waiting hands.

OOF!

It was... heavier than she had expected.

"What's inside?"

The baker looked horrified. "I don’t recall exactly."

“But, you made it?”

“I might have. I had to make a lot of these as today is a special day.”

“... so I heard…”

Nevertheless she looked up hopefully. “Still. Any idea?”

He pretended to think very hard.

"It smells..." he leaned forward conspiratorially," ...pleasant. I think."

Lilium sighed. "So you have no idea."

The baker shrugged and then pointed a flour-covered finger toward the box.

"Now, one instruction."

She nodded.

"Carry it level."

"I can do that."

"No sudden turns."

"Alright."

"No running."

She looked mildly offended as she said, "I only run when absolutely necessary."

As she turned toward the door, he called after her one last time.

"And Lilium?"

She looked back.

"Whatever happens..."

He nodded toward the box.

“Be very careful with that and make sure it remains closed at all times. Those boxes tend to be specials.”

Whatever that means, she thought.

She looked down at the ribbon. “I will be.”

The baker’s wife stuck her head in the room. “That also means no peeking.”

Lilium blinked. “I wasn’t going to?”

“No,” the woman called with a wink, “you were only thinking that.”

"... Does everyone in this city know what I'm thinking?"

"Only the people who've watched you grow up."

Lilium smiled despite herself.

Yet, very carefully… she carried the mysterious box home.

[lum]

The box's content shifted ever so slightly whenever she took too long a stride, and after the third warning rattle she slowed her pace considerably. Even as it rained.

"Alright alright… I'm being careful already," she muttered to the box.

The box of course offered no opinion.

She sighed to herself.

The baker had not exaggerated. Balancing the wooden box carefully in both hands proved rather more difficult than Lilium had expected. At least, when she didn’t want to break or mess up whatever was inside.

Rain still pattered softly upon the cobbles as she climbed the familiar steps toward her home.

That was odd, she thought when she noticed the front doors of the building weren’t open yet.

Thus she had to nudge the front door open with one shoulder.

Careful!

“...Mm.. hello? Some help?”

No answer.

She frowned.

That...was unusual.

Normally by now the front hall echoed with voices. Clerks discussing deliveries. Servants carrying messages. Merchants like her father arguing politely over prices that neither intended to accept.

She took another step inside.

"...Father?"

Silence.

"...Mother?"

Only the rain tapping against distant windows.

Lilium adjusted the box in her hands.

"Cook?"

Still nothing.

She glanced toward open doors into the office.

Empty.

The warehouse doors stood open, yet nobody worked within.

Even the front hall felt strangely still.

"...Hello. Where is everyone?"

Very carefully she continued deeper into the building.

Past the study, then the staircase, and further toward the kitchen.

There was a wonderful smell. At least that.

Her stomach, which had already been protesting all morning, immediately remembered what it was for.

She reached for the kitchen door with one elbow.

Caaaaarefully pushed it open, holding that box steady and…


"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

The room exploded into cheers.

Lilium nearly dropped the baker's box, greatly shocked.

Porter caught it before it reached the floor.

"I've got it!"

She however simply stared. That was all what she could do.

Everyone had gathered in that kitchen. Cook, Mara, Porter, a couple of the other traders, clerks, the stable boys, and even Masters Harl and Edrin.

The room burst into laughter as everyone saw how speechless Lilium stood.

"I...I…"

She looked from one familiar face to another.

"...You all knew."

Her father and mother entered the kitchen from behind her.

“We tried to be discrete,” her mother said as she hugged Lilium and then kissed her head.

“I knew it…”

“What did you knew?” her father asked.

“The pots, the forgotten crate, the… the…”

“Yes? Anything else?”

“I… I…”

Then, her gaze shifted to the baker’s box now in Porter’s hands.

“That as well…?”

Her father smiled. “How about we find out together? But it appears we weren't quite as subtle as we imagined. Come.”


The baker's box was finally opened.

The lid lifted slowly.

A warm scent of honey, butter and toasted almonds drifted into the room.

And nestled inside rested the finest honey cake Lilium had ever seen. Golden. A glossy top layer decorated with tiny candied flowers and delicate curls of sugared citrus.

She looked back up at her father.

"Y- you sent me to fetch my own birthday cake?"

"I found it efficient."

The people gathered in the kitchen chuckled.

Lilium laughed so hard she had to wipe a tear from one eye.


Porter cleared his throat. "Well, since the crate no longer needs disguising..."

He disappeared briefly before returning with the mysterious wooden box.

This time the canvas had been removed.

Lilium lifted the lid.

Inside lay something that looked like a windgong, but instead made with beautifully polished brass bells from Lantan. Some a bit large, some hardly bigger than the tip of her pinky. Each had been cast with delicate patterns of waves, stars and tiny sailing ships.

"They're beautiful..."

Porter smiled. “They're meant to hang by the window. And whenever the wind visits… well, I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough.”

Lilium carefully touched a single bell.

It answered with the softest, clearest note she had ever heard.

“Wow, that echo…”


"And now," Cook declared, placing his hands on his hips.

"You've all talked long enough."

One by one the lids finally came off the mysterious pots.

Steam rolled upward.

Lilium’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

There were honey-glazed carrots, her favorite mushroom stew, roasted potatoes crisped in herbs, sweetbaked apples and and… and enough little honey cakes to feast on for entire tenday.

She looked from Cook to her mother and back.

“You remembered everything I liked best.”

"Child..." her mother pointed at the table,"... we've been feeding you for years."


The party was meant to last an entire day.

With an afternoon disappearing into stories, Master Edrin insisting on Lilium correctly identifying other types of wood, with the baker claiming double market day might be popular some time, and with her parents happy talking and laughing back and forth…, Lilium wished the afternoon would never end.

By evening the candles hard burned low. Dishes stood empty and dirty by the metallic tub. She leaned back with one hand resting upon a very contented stomach.

A full belly, a beautiful present, everybody sweet and kind. Her thirteenth birthday was a brilliant day.

Every day could be like today for all she cared.

Tomorrow, after all...

Always came.