Two Crows Watch from the Gallows Tree

Pratik nodded to each person as they were named, offering each a smile — even the children. Then he looked back at Sera and Sara. “A pleasure to make your acquaintances. Pratik Chrenko.”

He was sure they were all perfectly aware of that. Seeing as Ash had brought Sera with him, he clearly trusted her and valued her opinion. So probably all three of them had been trying to learn more about him ever since he first appeared. Still. It felt rude not to offer a name.

"Where are you from?" Marcella asked around a mouthful of bread and butter. "Are you from the South? Do you fight lions? Why is there only one god down there?" Gaius suppressed a smile at his daughter's enthusiasm; she and her brothers were shaping up to be as inquisitive as he had been at their age, which would hopefully serve them better than it had him. Regulus was already a bright little fellow, certainly. Mattathias was a tad more concerning; his rages and tantrums reminded Gaius uncannily of Michael at times, though he was far more caring than Gaius's brother had ever been. Marcella was smart as a whip but more inclined to watch and observe than to ponder what it was she was seeing.

Pratik smiled at her enthusiasm. Despite his dislike for children, this one happened to be endearing. And, Ash had already dragged the truth of his ancestry out, so he was sure the women already knew. What would a little girl knowing the truth hurt?

“I’ve lived everywhere at this point, but I was born in the East. I’ve had the good fortune to not have to fight any lions. And I don’t hear from any of the gods often, but I suppose the one down there decided he didn’t need any help creating the South. Perhaps you can ask him some day?”

Personally, Pratik didn’t believe in any of the gods. And even if they existed, he didn’t feel like begging for forgiveness for who he had become. But, he also saw no reason to crush a little child’s faith.

"I only talk to the North gods," Marcella said primly. "They're the ones that watch over us. The seers said so."
And hopefully they'd be watching over the war with a favorable eye on House Ash. Gaius wasn't particularly devout, especially after his upbringing, but he believed in the gods enough to offer up a prayer or sacrifice every now and then. If seers existed, after all, why wouldn't divine beings exist as well?
"The East is the war people," Mattathias noted. "Did the war people chase you away?"

Pratik eyed him for a moment, but forced the smile to stay on his face as he answered gently, “Something like that. I’ve found I’m more comfortable when I have the freedom to move around. I can go where interests me, and leave where I don’t enjoy. It’s nice.”

That was a strong word. But, there wasn’t any more reason to explain war to a child than there was to crush their belief in the gods. And at this point, Pratik didn’t deserve the tranquility of a home. He was the war people. And he constantly was running from the monster he’d become.

Sera nudged Gaius lightly, and Gaius took a few bites of food, never taking his eyes off of Pratik. "I've studied the language of the East extensively," he said coolly. "It's fascinating, though difficult to become fluent in. Moonspeak is quite different from Upper Tongue." The meter was similar enough, graceful and iambic. It was the texture that always tripped Gaius up; Upper Tongue was all about the rolling of r's and harsh vowel sounds. Moonspeak made everything soft and singsong, almost like Orchian.

Pratik looked back to Ash, thankful that he was taking back control of the conversation. He doubted Ash would ask him such loaded questions... at least in front of his children. “Yes. I suppose it’s fortunate I was able to be exposed to both when I was quite young. I’m sure it made fluency easier than it otherwise might have been. What age did you start studying it?”

"I believe I was eleven," he mused. "That was when I began to take an interest in other languages."
"He's fluid in all of them," Marcella cut in.
"Fluent," Gaius corrected. "Not quite all of them, I'm afraid. Orchian is nearly impossible with human vocal cords, and I'm passable at best in Austrakan Taralli." Not that any of that mattered. Why did he need small talk? There was business to tend to and he had no desire to eat anymore.

“Admirable,” Pratik answered, trying to shovel down as much food as he could now that the mood in the room seemed to be changing. “I’m sure that took you much time and effort. It’s hard to be that disciplined.”

Gaius shrugged; he'd never felt that way. It was just more knowledge to consume and process. More books he'd never read. "It was worth it. I have business in the South quite often and it helps to be able to speak the dialects."

“I’m certain. I’ve found language skills to be near the top of my most valuable tools. Communication is vital.”

"Quite true, quite true." Gaius sipped at his wine. "I find that's one of the many failings of slavers. They never bother to learn the language of the people they're stealing. Makes it hard to have empathy when you can't understand what people are saying."

“I doubt people who enslave other people care much about empathy, language or no.” Pratik hesitated, not sure if he’d crossed a line. “But I admit I try to limit my contact with them, so you’re likely quite correct, sir.”

"I expect I am. I try not to deal with people like that if I can help it." Gaius sighed. "Though needs must in times like these. I've got one or two on my payroll, now." He wouldn't mind sending them into the fray of battle at some point, either.

“Ah, well...” He didn’t particularly care who else was on Ash’s payroll. He was just happy to be there himself. He smiled thinly, eyes locked on Ash’s face. “I’m sure there are many people in your employ right now that you’re not fond of.”