Day Three-Thirty-Four: But porn was such a good idea

I feared this might happen. Pagan has rebuffed all of our offerings. There is no negotiation. He wants us off his land.

Barrel winged me to his manor after lunch, having refused to take me anywhere before he got a bite to eat. The flight was largely quiet, as Barrel made it abundantly clear that he did not want me, or my fellow passenger, making much noise. We acceded to his wishes, 'cause he's a freaking dragon, and we were hundreds of feet off the ground. 

Ever-lovely Hoban escorted me into the main hall of Pagan's manor, and the old man was waiting by the stairs, still wearing his armour, still looking as wisely sour behind his cascading beard as ever. I greeted him; he narrowed his eyes.

"So!" I began, pulling my list out of my pocket. "I, ah, yeah! Dragomir! You remember me, right? Met the other day? You're, like, tormenting my village or something?"

Pagan smiled. Confirmed.

"Yep. Soooooo, we figured… since we're not going to move -"

"We'll see about that," he hissed, resting his chin on the top of his cane.

" - we'd better offer you some kinda, um, uh, offering. For staying. Like rent. Only better. Don't suppose you'd accept rent, wouldya? Couple bucks a month kinda thing?"

"No."

"No, of course not. Because you, you're a practical dude - but you, ah, appreciate the finer things in life. You appreciate beauty, 'n shit. Which is why…"

I unslung my backpack and pulled my wingman free, holding him dramatically in the air before Pagan.

"… the beaming smile of a child will move you!"

Grayson squirmed a little in my grip, but he promptly directed all of his happy energy at Pagan. His smile could have melted butter, could have ended wars, could have turned a villain into a hero and a hero into a saint. The force of Grayson's glee can transform any heart into the purest gold.

… except Pagan's, I guess, because he only lifted his eyebrow and pointed at Grayson's crotch. "Your child appears to have soiled itself."

I looked up. Grayson's pyjamas were stained, and a foul odour I hadn't noticed wafted into my nose. I cursed, promised to change him once we left, and put him back in the backpack. As if thinking it might improve the situation, Grayson pointed at a vase on a table twenty feet away, and it tipped over and smashed across the floor.

"Agh!" I cried. "Sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to!"

Pagan looked to the vase, nodding for one of his servants to clean it up. "I don't see how you could have done that. Unless you ARE somehow at fault…?"

I bit my lip. Shit. "Oh. Uhhhhh, yeah, guess I… didn't. Nevermind. Sorry, wanna… wanna make a good impression…"

Pagan snorted. "You won't do that with babies. Go on, read your list so you can be rebuffed."

I did. I covered every practical idea from the meeting yesterday, even throwing in a few of the outlandish ones to lighten Pagan's humour. He chuckled at an offering of 'endless fertilizer', and seemed vaguely interested when I mentioned Bora ("What does she look like?"), but the end result was a resounding 

"No. No, no, just no. I told you and that idiot bard the other day, I want you away from my lands. You fools attract too much attention with your trading and construction. An ill wind blows, and your presence would see it directed at my home. No amount of bribes will change my mind."

I growled, impatient and put out. "Why is it so important we leave? We aren't doing anything wrong! Nobody'll know you live out here! You're almost a day's walk away from Pubton!"

Pagan shook his head. "I told you last week, these are dark times. Don't you get any news in that hovel of yours?"

"'course we do! We get notices in that PUB you almost KNOCKED OVER! How the hell do you do that, anyway?! With the animals?"

The old knight ignored this, pacing a few steps up the staircase to the second floor. "A kingdom to the southeast of here fell last Tuesday. It was overrun, by… things. Nobody knows what, because anybody who tries to go near the kingdom - I believe its name was Placefiller? - doesn't come back. It's not the first patriarchy to fall, either… the tyrant of the Indy Plains, King Jeffrey, went under earlier in the year… that wasn't a surprise, he was a daft idiot, but two independent kingdoms in one year, for no explicable reason…"

The mention of Jeffrey's name sent a shiver up my spine.

"I don't have long to live." Pagan sighed, curling his beard with one armoured finger and wincing as it got caught in the metal. "I'm old. I want a conclusion in pleasant obscurity, not fending off otherworldly nightmares. My manor is self-sustaining, my slaves content with working the land, and I aim to keep it that way. That's why your crappy town can't stay where it is."

I scratched my head, a half-idea forming as Pagan spoke. "What… what if I could TELL you 'bout the things that're doing this? 'least I figure it's what I think it is…"

Pagan's eyes narrowed. Quite a feat for a man whose eyes seem to be naturally narrowed. "You know what brought Placefiller low? And Jeffrey?"

I nodded, tentatively. "Y… yeah. Kinda. All of us, most of us, we came from Castle… hell, I don't remember what it was called last. Jeffrey's stupid castle. I saw firsthand what happened, 'n I know who's responsible."

Pagan waited for more details.

I did not deliver. "I'll tell you everything you wanna know, everything you'd need to prep yourself for the worst, if you'll let us stay."

He didn't miss a beat. "Then I will remain blissfully uninformed. Get out." He turned to walk up the stairs, motioning for Hoban to direct me out of his hall.

"If we go, you die."

Pagan stopped. My heart leaped into my throat. The voice didn't belong to me, or Pagan, or Hoban, or any of the other servants in the hall. It was clear, high, innocent, joyful, spoken as though delivering a hymnal to a crowd of religious converts.

I turned, staring at my son. Grayson smiled at me, head swaying in that delightfully baby way of his, drool rolling down his chin.

Gods, I thought. Dear gods. The second coming of Eve.

"I will take my chances, child." Pagan's gruff tones broke, tinged with surprise, though he did not turn around. He left me to escort my son off of his property.

Another thing not to tell Libby. I didn't think parenthood was this trying.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Frightened