Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The streets of Sage’s Island were bustling with life as Gidel wove through them, looking for anyone who would be willing to give him money. So far, this had been his most successful day yet, though that was to be expected. After all, who wouldn’t want to hear him play a song on his drum on Christmas Eve?

He nodded to himself happily as he trotted forward, holding the two sturdy sticks he used to beat the drum tied tightly around his back. A couple holding hands walked past him, and he gave them his best smile, but it seemed like they were too interested in each other to spare him so much as a glance.

Not letting himself get discouraged, Gidel continued onward until a sign caught his eye.

Gidel tilted his head curiously before reaching out to trace the letters on the sign, trying to spell it out in his head with the help of his chilled fingers. As he did so, a bellowing laugh came from behind, causing the boy’s tail to puff up in alarm as he spun around.

A large man with a fluffy beard as white as snow and short hair to match it beamed at Gidel. “Interested in the show?”

Gidel stared at the man’s fluffy beard in awe before nodding his head up and down. The man continued to smile at him before handing a piece of paper to the boy. “Free admission as a present for all on Christmas Day, tell your friends and family!”

The boy returned the man’s grin with one of his own before scurrying off as the man continued to laugh merrily. As he ran off, he ended up tripping over a wheel lying in the middle of the sidewalk.

Another man, this one wearing a thick hood over his head, ran over to Gidel, helping him up from the ground. “Sorry about that, little one!” He gestured to a soot-covered carriage sitting in the road, one of its wheels noticeably missing. “You weren’t supposed to be tripping over that… Are you alright?”

Gidel patted his body for injuries and nodded when he didn’t find any. The man smiled and patted Gidel’s head, ruffling his hair good-naturedly. “A fine lad you are, carry on going past, will you?”

The boy ran off, still looking for a good person to pay for his music. As he continued onward, a winter breeze gusted past him, sending a chill through his thin coat and deep into his brittle bones.

Gidel shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, until a strange noise caught his attention. It was the rhythmic tapping of something against the ground, reminding him of the sound of his drum.

Following the sound, Gidel spotted a figure wearing a hooded cloak, tapping a cane against the ground as they walked forward. His eyes were covered by a thin white bandage, the kind that Fellow wrapped around his knee the time Gidel scraped it.

He lightly tugged at their sleeve, causing them to pause. “Is someone there?” A deep voice that rumbled pleasantly against Gidel’s ears spoke. Gidel tugged at his sleeve again before pulling his drum out and tapping it lightly.

“Oh, that sounds like my cane, doesn’t it?” The man chuckled, his hood shaking each time he spoke. “What a fine observation you have made,” He lowered his head, giving Gidel a grin. “You’re sure to be a scholar in the future, my boy.”

Gidel’s chest puffed up proudly and he continued to play his drum for the cloaked man, feeling warmer with each passing second.

Not too far away from them on Sage’s Island, a pair of brothers stood in front of their home as their parents were carried away in coffins, the melody of their music doing nothing to soothe the grief that gripped their hearts ever-so-tightly.

The bell tolled thrice and Idia wrapped an arm over Ortho’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, I promise,” He shook his head and his eyes grew misty as he watched a worker hoist his mother’s coffin into a wagon. He pulled Ortho closer, his younger brother saying nothing, his gaze miles away. “We’ll get through this.”

“That’ll be 5,000 thaumarks for the funeral expenses, lad,” The worker finished placing the coffins into his wagon and turned to Idia with a toothy grin. “I take payments upfront!”

Idia’s eyes boggled out of his head. “What?! That much?!”

The worker shrugged before scratching his chin with unkempt nails. “I’m in high demand. Lots of people dying these days,” He held his hand out. “My payment, then.”

Idia reached into his pocket before his face paled in horror. He looked up at the worker. “B-But this money is supposed to pay a loan. I… I can’t give it to you.”

The worker shrugged. “Suit yourself." He moved to unload the coffins, only to stop as Idia held his hand up.

“Fine!” He shoved the money into the worker’s hand. “Just take it!”

Idia placed his hands on Ortho’s shoulders, shaking his head. “How do you sleep at night…”

The worker shrugged once more, counting the money in his hands. “Pleasure doing business with you, Sir. The funeral will take place at day’s end, meet us at the graveyard if you want to say your goodbyes.”

“Do what you must.” Idia rolled his eyes. He and Ortho watched as the worker got into his carriage and rode off, leaving them alone.

Ortho took Idia’s hand in his, finally tearing his gaze away from their parents’ coffins. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he sniffled. “Idia… What are we going to do? That was all the money we had.”

Idia gave Ortho a shaky smile. “I-It’s fine! The bank’s still open, w-we’ll ask Mister Kingscholar for more time to pay him back.”

He squeezed Ortho’s hand. “I’m sure he has some kindness in him, we’ll just have to appeal to his better nature.”

A man stood outside of the bank, tapping his cane against the ground merrily as he spoke. “Had a good year, I imagine?”

Beside him, a woman wearing a fur coat that drowned out the winter’s chill let out a laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nothing I would change. And you?”

The man’s hand went to his mustache, stroking its well-maintained curls as he shook his head. “I am blessed with wealth. I have managed to fill my pockets every year, Miss.”

She continued to laugh, placing her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh, you!”

Their conversation paused as they watched a woman wearing rags that did nothing to stop the cold walked past, eyeing her as she moved curiously. They watched as she stumbled toward a nearby waste bin, digging around in it with a tired resignation.

“I say…” The man put his hands into his satin-lined pockets. “Someone ought to do something to help that poor woman out.”

The woman beside him nodded quickly, the golden earrings that dangled from her lobes sparkling in the light as they bounced up and down. “Here, here!”

Though, the two of them did not move. Instead, they parted to the side as Idia made his way up the stairs of the bank, pulling his brother alongside him. The older of the two paused in front of them, taking a deep breath before asking a question in a hesitant tone. “Have either of you seen Mister Kingscholar?”

“Kingscholar?” The mustachioed man raised an perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Kingscholar?” The woman batted her expertly curled eyelashes at Idia.

They then looked at each other, speaking in unison. “That old coot?”

Idia lowered his head sheepishly, about to go inside the bank before his brother stepped in front of him. Ortho clasped his trembling hands together, eyes wide and pleading. “Please! It’s important, we need to find him!”

The woman let out a coo, patting the boy’s head before realizing his hair was unwashed. She grimaced and wiped her hand on her fur coat before nodding and gesturing inside. “He’s here, though why you would want to see him is beyond me.”

Ortho nodded politely to the woman, taking Idia’s hand. “Thank you, Miss,” He smiled happily at his brother, though the effect was diminished by his tearstained cheeks. “We’ll find him, and once we tell him what happened, I’m certain he’ll be charitable.”

Unable to help himself, the man laughed. “Charitable? Kingscholar?” He and the woman shared a loud chortle as the two boys entered the bank.

It was warm inside the bank, almost cozy if the boys ignored the hordes of men and women just like the two outside, glancing their way and taking in their rough appearances before either turning their nose up at them or adverting their eyes in hopes that the boys wouldn’t ask them for any money that they had to spare.

Ortho met the eyes of one of them, and he straightened up. “I’m looking for Mister Kingscholar.”

They gave Ortho a sympathetic look before gesturing toward the center of the room where there he stood in all his aging glory; Leona Kingscholar.

His hair, once tied in careless updos that showcased his natural handsomeness now flowed over his shoulders with streaks of gray outnumbering its original color. His forehead was littered with wrinkles, and he wore eyebags for days from numerous sleepless nights spent poring over his files.

He was a rich man, anyone could smell the stench of wealth wafting off of him, and yet he did not seem to enjoy any of the luxuries that his money could have afforded him. His coat was warm and practical, but far from the most expensive one he could have brought with all the wealth he hoarded.

The elderly beastman was growling at a bank teller as a hyena beastman stood at his side, his ears lowered and his eyes swamped with exhaustion.

Leona waved his cane at the bank teller, his green eyes ablaze with anger. “You expect me to stand around here and wait for your people to give me my money? Humbug. I paid for this bank, so you get me what I want.”

“I-I-I…” She swallowed. “I understand, Sir. It’s just that our bank is especially busy on this day, it being so close to Christmas and-”

“Christmas,” Leona rolled his eyes, reaching to run a hand through his graying locks. “It’s always something with you fools, isn’t it? Some holiday or other, always stopping you people from doing your jobs,” He turned over his shoulder to nod at his assistant, who straightened up once he was being called on. “Bucchi, mark this down.”

As Ruggie struggled to pull a ink-stained pen out of his pocket, Leona spoke. “Every idiot who goes about with ‘Christmas’ on their lips should be boiled in their own pudding,” He glared at the woman, stepping closer as he growled. “And buried with a stake of holly through their heart!”

“Excuse me, Mister Kingscholar!” Ortho ran up to Leona, causing the older man to halt his tirade. The bank teller shared a look with Ruggie, who made a shooing gesture, urging her to run off. As she scampered away, Ortho spoke. “We need to speak with you.”

Leona rolled his eyes. “Swiftly. The bank is closing early today for Christmas,” He huffed, tapping his cane against the ground in annoyance. “Humbug. Ought to keep it open if you really want to be charitable.”

Ortho opened his mouth to speak, but paused when Idia stood in front of him. His older brother had finally gathered enough courage to speak, standing proud as he addressed Leona. “Mister Kingscholar. Our parents have died, and-”

“And?” Leona gestured toward Ruggie, who held out an open book for him to flip through during their conversation.

“And I had to use the money I was saving up to give to you for their funeral expenses…” Idia’s courage was slipping away by the second, his back hunching lower as he hid his face. “So… So I’ll need more time, to… to pay you.”

“Am I a charity, Bucchi?” Leona didn’t even look up from his book. Nor did he wait for Ruggie to respond, simply flipping through another page before pulling out a piece of paper and shoving it toward Idia. “I am owed my money tomorrow morning at nine, you agreed to this and that’s that.”

Ortho stepping forward. “But-”

“You owe me my money,” Leona slammed his book shut. “So you’ll get me my money,” He shook his head, sighing. “How hard is it to understand?”

All around the bank, Idia could feel eyes watching their conversation. Behind their hands, he could hear all of the rich people of the island whispering with one another. Some felt pity for his situation -though they did nothing to help- while others felt righteous indignation.

After all, what Leona was saying wasn’t wrong. Idia did owe him money and did promise to pay him back tomorrow. But it wasn’t as though Idia knew his parents would drop dead.

He heard Ortho speak, his voice wavering as his eyes welled up with tears yet again. “But tomorrow is Christmas!”

Leona lowered himself so that he was eye-level with the boy. “You ought to learn this now; Christmas is nothing but a humbug.”

A few shocked gasps sounded out from the crowd that surrounded them, quickly hushed when Leona sent a glare their way. He hissed at Ortho. “I owe you and your failure of a family nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes at Idia, taking the paper from him. “I have already been more than generous with you. You were supposed to pay me a week ago, but I allowed you more time in exchange for interest. And what do I have to reward my generosity?”

Leona put the paper back into the book, scowling as Ruggie slammed it shut. “Nothing,” He turned back toward Idia one last time. “Come to my office tomorrow at nine sharp, else you want me to bring the law into this!”

With that, he left. Ruggie took one step to follow after him before turning back to give the boys a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, kids. I wish I could help, but-”

“BUCCHI.”

Ruggie flinched before tucking the book under his arm and scampering after his boss. With all of the hubbub over, the crowd turned to stare at the brothers, wondering what they would do.

Ortho sobbed. Idia put his hands on his brother’s shoulders before looking around at the people surrounding them. Each time he tried to meet their eyes, they looked elsewhere. Each time he tried to step toward them, they stepped back. Each time he tried to open his mouth, they turned away.

His gaze hardened and he led Ortho out of the bank, waves of hopelessness washing over him with every step he took.

A pair of blue eyes watched this scene from afar, sighing. “Oh, Kingscholar… I want to praise you for your business savvy, but…”

The voice stepped forward, rolling his eyes as the sound of chains dragging against the ground followed after him. “Perhaps my influence was too severe, hm?”

Those same blue eyes glinted, with a mixture of amusement, pride, and the faintest bit of concern. “Ah… For your sake, I hope it isn't too late for you, my only friend.”