Dante: Ten

Mornings weren't always Dante's forte, but this one had his stomach turning flip flops before his eyes even opened. Ten. He was ten today.

Ten just wasn't any number. Ten was magic. Ten was a key to the kingdom. In Begma, once you were ten you were given free reign to ride out further than the family property, and being a Prince of the True Realm, he might even be able to take the roads to other shadows. It was a day he had been counting down to as long as he could count, and this overcast morning, the day had finally come.

He forced himself to claw out of bed and find his pants. Will drove him down the stairs, toward the kitchen. Dante peaked inside, expecting a display of cakes and candies the staff annually hid here, along with a bevy of presents, so that he might be surprised.

Nothing.

Nonetheless, this day was beginning to brighten. The sun was peaking from behind clouds and light poured into the front room as he crossed it to the nook where breakfast would be served, the smell of fresh berries cruising past him. He made a brief run to the table.

The table was already set, piled high with meats and pasteries, light wines and juice. Downstairs, he could hear his mother tearing into some unfortunate from the winery.

"I specifically asked for the Pouilly Fuisse to be delivered by Thursday! The Accio's centenial party is tonight! What are they supposed to drink? Run-off from the gutters?"

As Dante began to fill his plate, he counted the settings: two... one for him, and one in his mother's usual spot.

Dante poured himself some wine and smirked as his mother yelled. Whoever it was obviously didn't know what a pushover she was. A few tarts rimmed his plate, ham and pheasant, a few eggs, some fresh fruit, and a few more tarts rounded out the beginnings of breakfast. He ate rapturously, not waiting for his mother, his excitement building. ~ A horse? Ship? How shall I travel?~

"Never mind," came his mother's huffy voice from downstairs. "It's obvious if there's something to be done, it's going to fall on my shoulders..." A creshendo of angry footfalls made their way to the dining area, and Vinta entered, her dark complextion dotted with a red flush. She sat, barely noticing her son at the table, and tore into a toasted bagel, her jaw working as her mind set to working out a logistical nightmare.

He tore a muffin and stuffed half in his mouth before taking a large gulp of juice. "I'm going down to the docks. I think the weather is just right for an ocean... trip."

"Trip?" Vinta broke out of her stew and looked at her son, as if for the first time in a long while. "What do you mean, trip? You know you can't take... the..." The bagel dropped from her hand, and she gave a little gasp.

Dante checked his shirt for a stray crumb he knew wasn't there. "What?"

"Oh, Dante... Your birthday..." She placed her forehead in her palm. "With the orders coming in for the party season and your father gone to sea again, it slipped my mind...

"I have to go to Amber today," she put in gently. "Perhaps you could join me?"

and her son's mouth hung open, a piece of fruit half in. He withdrew it slowly. "Forgot?"

He was staring, the concept of his mother forgetting his birthday laying on his plate, never to be truly digested.

"Sure. Amber."

"Well, not forgot!" Vinta tried to cover for herself. "We were talking about getting you your own skiff for getting about, but then the Red Bands showed up again, and the Accios... We'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Okay." He took a few more bites of breakfast, but his heart had sunk far enough to intrude upon his appetite. He rose from the table shortly afterward to finish getting dressed.

In his room he muttered, "such a... forgot... no wonder Dad's never here."

It didn't take him long, the dress for travel being a simple thing. As he tread back down to the main level of the Manor, he could see his mother concentrating on a card, her foot tapping an irritated tattoo on their tiled floor.

He waited, also impatient for a result. He had a strong suspicion that it was Dad's card. He looked through cupboards, stared at the pattern of tile on the floor, laid down and blew spit-bubbles at the ceiling... all within the moments that his mother concentrated on the card.

The minutes ticked by, marked only by Dante's wanderings and his mother's tapping. Then, with a ferocity born into all the Bayles, she threw the card against the wall, flinging a curse after it. She turned, then nearly tripped over her son as she made for the stairs.

"Dante!"

"Yes, mom?" He slicked his hair back as he spoke and crossed the room to retrieve the card.

He saw his father staring back at him, a golden beach beneath him, his favorite ship, long since lost to war, anchored behind him. The picture of him does not move.

"I was trying to get your father," Vinta explained limply, taking up her shawl. "But he must be in some silly battle or whatnot. He's not answering."

Dante looked at the picture for a good moment before returning it to her. "Amber City, right? Or are we going to the castle?"

He moved to the door as he spoke, opening it for her. There was the smell of impending rain on the air.

"Just the city, at least for the delivery. Matha's-- she's hosting it. You remember her? Gerard's lady?" She bustled him out of the kitchen, wrapping the shawl about her shoulders. "We can go to the castle, if you like. See court, that sort of thing."

"The one with the weird hair, right?" He passed out of the kitchen easily, "I dunno..." He then slumped a bit, "yeah, I guess the castle'd be alright."

He could feel her wince, even as he wasn't looking at her, and she kept her mouth shut until they came to the boat. Even after that, the only things she seemed to have to say were in the form of quiet requests that he loosen this rope or unfurl this sail.

Dante was pretty quiet on the trip, although his crisp motions easily showed his disappointment. Not only did he do what his mother asked, but he kept an eye out for things that needed doing without being told.

By the time they reached Amber, late in the afternoon, Vinta had given up overtures of cheery conversation and attempts to ask what Dante might want on his skiff. When they reached the dock, she hopped on the deck, relieved to be giving orders to the indiffernent dock hands who's birthdays she need not remember.

Dante looked around and considered running off, but couldn't think of anything to do after that, so he gave up. He watched his mom as she barked orders. He then turned and gave more scrutiny to the local wildlife.

The local wildlife was limited to what he could see of Arden, a thin green line to the West. The dock was a mass of activity and study brick and wood buildings. From out of the confusion came a man, barrel chested and taller than anyone back in Kashfa, including Caine. He came up to Vinta, his hand swallowing hers as he brought it up for a courtly kiss, then gave her a broad smile.

"Well, coming to restock Martha's? She was getting fairly antsy, figuring out how she was going to convince a handful of nobles that strawberry lemonade was good wine." He looked down at Dante. "Hey! He's grown!"

"They're known to do that," Vinta replied drily.

At the words of the man Dante's mood indicator swung to 'happy' or something very close to it. That he couldn't recognize the guy didn't stop the young man from accepting what seemed like praise. He swallowed a response to his mother's comment and smiled at the man. "Thanks!"

He returned the smile as well, a meaty hand clamping onto his shoulder while he sized him up. "Looks like you're going to be a tall one like the rest of us. How old are you?"

"Ten," replied Vinta over her shoulder as she returned to scolding the dockhands on the treatment of her shipment. "Today."

"Today? Your mother has you working a ship on your birthday."

"Yes... sir." He looked downcast at the prospect, and only just kept himself from telling this man that his mother had forgotten.

"It's a very busy day."

Gerard watched on as Vinta berated a white aproned caterer as he studied a case of port. Gerard grimanced in sympathy, then nodded. "Looks it. Looks it. Makes me glad Martha doesn't have to travel. One's enough.

"Ten, eh? I have a son about your age, you know."

"You do?" Dante was more than a little surprised, and he felt his 'what does virile mean' question having to wait for another encounter with Gerard. "Where is he? Is he doing anything right now?"

"Probably pushing a rag around the bar and calling it dusting. Come on." He made a motion to Vinta, mouthing the word 'Bar' to her. She nodded, then returned to her rampage through the caterers who apparently lacked the knowledge on how to properly open port.

Dante followed without a glance backward, his smile broadening with the thoughts of a new playmate. He'd seen a few kids around the vinyards and at functions, and whenever there was a 'party' at the manor, but he'd never met a peer before... another amberite child. His mind was running wild... and he might yet get his chance to travel.

Martha's Mariners was a three story contruction, though only the bottom half was a bar. Walking up to it, Dante could see it bordered on upscale with its stained glass windows and elaborate carvings in the door of battles long since fought. But the glass was temptered to be extra strong, and the chairs and stools were made of some of the harder woods from Kashfa. Apparently, even those with a bit of gold could get rowdy.

Martha wasn't anything like Vinta, or the other ladies of Amberite interest that Dante had heard of. She was thick about the waist and heavily weighted in the top of her blouse. She hummed along, doing an inventory of glasses and bottles, her notes turning sour when she noted a crack here, or a chip there. She looked up from her pad when Gerard entered, and her face lit up into a smile.

"Well, the docks gave you up before dinner time! My lord, the last time that happened, I was in labor-- Who's this?"

Dante smiled up at her, giving her the kind of consideration he would for any other adult. His smile had too many teeth, and looked forced.

"You got a name to go with those teeth?" Martha leaned over the bar, getting a better look at Dante.

"It's Caine's kid. Dante. You remember him. Unicorntide, three years ago."

"The one that snuck into the champaign fountain?"

"That very one."

"Sometimes a whole week goes by before I hear about that, but I've grown up! I won't do it again without asking myself first 'would Dad do this?'"