Homeward Bound

Waters receded by week’s end. Roads would still require an elaborate cleanup routine in order to return to viability as a viaduct. The broad brick make helped a great deal with this, but there was still a massive logistical hurdle to clean up spare refuse and the odd tree off the path.

This was a moot point, beyond a few more long nights managing the situation on Lamora’s end, For the prime ministresses’ retinue would travel to the last station of their diplomatic tour by boat.

Two of Sara’s ships—well, they were on loan from the college, but she was the commodore of the three-ship fleet—remained around the seaside college town to provide relief to isolated settlements up and down the coast. Sara piloted her largest ship due south with a full diplomatic envoy in tow.

Post-storm, the seas were particularly rocky. Having grown up in landlocked Omaha, Skott spent the one-day voyage in need of some sea legs. Indeed, Sara appeared to be the only person in the family who was adapted to the sea.

Mercifully, the ship came to a stop at the mouth of a wide river delta. Shallow barges rowed out from a small freshwater wayport to pick up and transport passengers deep into the winding, heavily forested river network of Aeirun’s southernmost border.

The whole retinue fit into three of these wide barges. They were powered by a pole and rudder, which had no trouble reaching the river bottom with room to spare once they crossed a green-blue dividing line where the Aeirunian sea met fresh water. These barges were much more stable, as was the ebb and flow of the river, and the remainder of the journey was silky smooth.

There was no one major city built up along the river. Instead, there were docks every half-kilometer or so. Elvan tree manses—some repurposed, some still occupied, a few abandoned—lined both sides of the river. Land use here took the form of narrow strips such that every plot of land could reach the river.

The barges landed at a transport depot of sorts along the left bank. Another elvan tree manse: the first of the High King Auron’s to fall in the rebellion sixteen-plus years ago.

“Do you remember this place, Skott?” Lamora asked, standing at the front of the middlemost barge as the advanced team moored to the docks.

Skott nodded.

The tree manse ahead was far shorter than the others. It was a relatively ‘new’ structure, by which the base tree that formed the elaborate habitat had merely been planted a century or two ago.

“It’s the first tree-manse we overthrew back in the day,” Skott said. “The one you were born at?”

“Indeed.” Lamora nodded slowly. “And my mother and her mother before me, in the same groundside servant’s quarters.”

+++

As with most of the still-standing tree mansions of High King Auron, this plantation had been reappropriated as a coalition government complex. They’d spend the night here and then make their way up the river, gradually heading north until they were back in the plains and New Omaha.

That night, Lamora actually had a relatively low workload. She met Skott for drinks at a veranda high up in the tower, near the suite reserved for the prime ministress. The pair shared local beverages a bit stronger than sweat mead.

“We passed that excavation on the boat ride south,” Lamora said between measured sips. “I mean it when I say that we owe you so much, Skott of Omaha.”

A great weight lodged itself in Skott’s gut. His jaw clenched. He put the mead down.

“You raised my children,” he began, “while transitioning from a rebel front to a provisional government and ruling as a prime minister. You owe me nothing.”

In fact, I owe you everything.

The pair did not speak for a while, instead finishing off the latest glass of mead.

“Orcs mate for life,” Lamora said as she poured another glass. “There are exceptions for the death of a partner. I understand that Earth-humans are not dissimilar.”

“It’s, well, n-normally we do marry once at a time. At least where I’m from.” Skott stammered about. “But it’s not, like, a definite thing. You can date, break up, then date someone else again.”

“Lucy told me you had a paramour in the land of Boston.” Lamora swindled her glass back and forth.

“Oh, what, Nessa? About that. Did Lucy not tell you we broke up?”

“You know, she’s been strangely dour since the storm ended,” Lamora said. “You ‘broke up.’ Does that mean your marriage and breeding contract is severed?”

Don’t say that you’re ready to mingle. Don’t say you’re ready to mingle.

“We’re going to explore other options,” Skott said. “There’s no… ahem… contract, breeding or otherwise. It was called a situationship.”

They’d downed another half-bottle of mead. Still, the night was young.

“There was… pressure, from the clan, to remarry.” Lamora shrugged, slight emerald blush to her cheeks. “Again, as is common in the event of the death of a clan-mother’s partner. There was a whole movement to declare the litter insufficiently orcish, and to push a marriage-alliance to fuse with another clan. That’s just pressure from fellow orcs. Within clan Kignora itself. Within the coalition, there were still those who didn’t think a she-orc had the temperament to lead. To say nothing of those elvaan who never accepted coalition government.”

Skott clinked his empty pint on the table.

All this time, he’d wondered wether coming back from Aeirun had been a mistake. The thoughts of missing his grandparent’s funerals, and missing his now-elderly parents definitely tempered his regrets over the long years. Knowing that he’d inadvertently left Lamora to raise five rambunctious orc-babies brought his sentiments reeling in the other direction. Maybe, though, there simply was no good option. Wether he’d stayed in Aeirun or returned to Earth, either choice would have brought with it some dire negative consequence he dared not live with. At least the path formed by the choices he made led him back home.

Home. Huh. Skott shrugged, passing it off as an attempt to loosen his shoulders. I’ve only lived in Aeirun for a year and some change over the course of my life. But still…he smiled at Lamora, whose fangs grinned back coquettishly. Home.

“Ah, don’t tell the children, but after this tour I hope to pass through some kind of reform meant to shore up the coalition’s electoral standing, then step down.”

Skott leaned in. “Resign?”

“Eh, there are successors in the senatorial pool,” Lamora said. “The title of prime minister or ministress has changed hands a few time since we founded the capital. I was second, fifth, and now eighth. The title can come and go. Still, I’d much rather have one last thing or worry about. I’ll still have clan duties, family duties, but the fate of Aeirun won’t be in my hands.”

Lamora knocked on the wooden table. A universal gesture shared by the two worlds.

“Who were the others?”

Lamora’s tusk-y smile grew wider. The fangs were actually quite cute.

“Why, the other members of our party, of course.” Lamora leaned back. “Most have gone back to their hometowns and the like. I don’t particularly have a home.”

Skott nodded. They’d talked about this during that long period of celebration following High King Auron’s fall. Her mother had smuggled her out of the servant’s quarters of this very tree manse when she was young.

“Oh, the clan still has some lands that were not leased away to the elvan over the centuries. I stop by every few years. Not this year.” Lamora shook her head, frowning. “Never while breeding negotiations are underway. Again, the elders are insufferable in wanting to make a clan alliance. As prime ministress, I’m responsible for far more than just the clan—I have all Aeirun to think about. Even the elvan, though they’d be far too prideful to admit or accept it.”

“You’ve done good, juggling it all,” Skott said. “I’m quite impressed.”

“Yes, well, I always was able to impress you quite easily.” Lamora’s fangs retracted. “And… I am glad you’ve returned. So glad. I… really could have used your help all these years.”

“I’m here now.” Skott slowly moved his hand over to rest gently on hers. “I… do wish I could have never left.”

“Well, we have plenty of time to catch up.” Lamora’s cheeks puffed up slightly.

All at once, Lamora rose to her feet. She didn’t wobble; orcs were largely immune to inebriation.

“I believe I have a stronger brew up in the cryo-magi-freezer. I’m sure it would be sufficient to knock a human on their feet.” She flashed Skott a sly smile. “Come. Let’s go retrieve some of the good stuff before the night is through.”

Skott took his glass and drank up the last vestiges of foam at the bottom of the glass.

Gotta collect that liquid courage.

“Ahem.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Gladly. And this is… about more than drinks, ain’t it?”

“You’ve grown more perceptive, Skott of Omaha.” Lamora said as she sauntered out of the room.

+++

Meanwhile, down near the base of the tree manse, five new adults milled about.

“Where’s mother and the hero from the other world?” Skottson asked.

“Hehe.” Lucy grinned cheekily. “Upstairs, in the prime ministerial suite. My circuitous plan nears fruition.”

The two soldierly sons looked at her like a blue-stripped Aeirunian lobster was crawling out of her nose.

“You seem… chipper,” Grog said from the far side of a table. “You were moody on the entire ship ride down.”

“Yes, well, my plans have been a long time coming,” Lucy said simply.

The night went on. Sara jumped up on a desk and mimed out one of her numerous naval adventures. This drew all attention back to the other daughter of the litter and left Lucy to stew in her thoughts.

She hadn’t realized that Skott of Omaha was her father when she’d first gone about finding a way to reach across worlds to seek out the old hero. In truth, Lucy had heard her mother waxing about how much she missed the great hero Skott of Omaha. With the children’s father nowhere to be found, Lucy figured she could use a backup paramour, even if it was a step-father for the litter. Only, the most promising candidate to date their mother had turned out to be their biological father all along! How swell.

Still, Sara told her animated boasts, throwing her hands out as she described a great sea monster. The other siblings seldom paid Lucy any heed.

An hour or two later, the door creaked open. The children went silent.

In walked Lamora and Skott, mother and father, side by side.

“Hello, children,” Lamora said with a sigh. “Tomorrow we’ll take off for, ah, where was it, the refugee camps outside of Crossraods Ford? Then it’s back here for another night and, ah, where was I?”

Lamora stretched languidly, like a tired green cat. Clearly distracted.

“Heh.” Sara snickered.

“Children,” Lamora began, shaking her head to refocus. “So, as you all know by now, Skott of Omaha, the human, is your father.”

The pair held hands.

“Well, as you’ve probably guessed, I’m here to stay,” the children’s father said. “Have to hop back to Boston now and again. But I want to stay here with all of you. And Lamora.”

Lucy grinned cheekily despite herself. Her mother was a shade of jade that the daughter had never seen before.

“Your father and I are…” Lamora looked at Skott. “We are a mated pair.”

Sara and Sethset let out a silly whistle.

“L-Lamora.” Skott stammered. “You can’t tell the kids we’re mating. It’s not rated E for Everyone.”

“Heh.” Lucy grinned ear to ear, fangs at their maximum extent. “Operation: Younger Siblings Gambit is nearly complete.”

Skott turned red like a highlands potato-beat. That was apparently a thing humans could do.

“W-what do you mean by ‘operation’? There’s…” Skott frowned. “Lucy, was this the plan all along?”

“Well, I didn’t know you were my dad when it started,” Lucy admitted. “Still, bringing the family back together is… good.”

“That it is.” Skott sighed and renewed his grip on Lamora’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you growing up. But still, perhaps we can make up for lost time.”

The various children all nodded in turn, clockwise around the room.

For just a moment, Lucy felt like the family had no choice but to acknowledge the success of her plots.