Searing 1, 122
The first day of a new season was always a favorite for Franky, and this one was not an exception. The day prior, Franky had conducted his own internal audit and inventory, as he did on the last day of every season, and everything checked out perfectly. Because of course it did, Franky didn't tolerate anything less. So today began with that fresh, new chapter of a book feeling.
He was sipping on some coffee with just a hint of hazelnut liquor in it. Just a dash for flavor. It wasn't bad. Franky was leaning against the bar, watching his staff go about their usual duties during the breakfast hours. Clockwork perfection. Today was single egg omelets on the menu, from these giant chicken like creatures in the wild. One cracked egg filled an entire skillet, and his kitchen was scrambling over each other trying to find room for all the eggs before they were used.
The swearing and yelling and thrown knives were slightly above average today. Franky shrugged, he wasn't going to mess with their process, it worked and it worked well. The front door of the Gobbler swung open slowly, and a human man in travel clothes hefted a crate into the tavern. Franky raised an eyebrow but didn't move. The man made his way over to Franky, "Delivery for you, Mister Franky." Franky wasn't expecting any deliveries, so this was an interesting surprise. He saw the customs tag on it. From Ecith, Sangen, and finally Zaichaer. He smiled.
Yeva.
Franky reached behind the bar, fishing about for a bit, pulling up a heavy pouch of coins. The man raised a hand to stop him, "Sir, this has already been paid for." Franky smiled and nodded, grabbing more coins to put in the pouch, "I know, this is your tip for getting it here speedily, I assume, and safely. And for your honesty. Thank you."
Franky handed the Zaichaeri based courier the largest tip of his life and sent the lad on his way. Franky was in a pleased and generous mood. Yeva sent him gifts. He didn't care that he paid for it, that was beyond immaterial to him. It was the thought behind it. He went in the back, grabbing a crowbar, and pried open the lid, a few of the regulars peering over in curiosity.
On top was a letter addressed to him, nestled underneath was the heavily packed straw to keep things from jostling and protect the contents from humidity. Franky grabbed the letter first, opening it. And he began to read.
Immediately he could see that Yeva was changing, for the better it seemed. Early on in the letter she seemed to be addressing her own doubts and difficulties, something a couple seasons ago would've been of great challenge to her. Franky did smile broadly as she read. He would love to visit Drathera. He suspected there were probably many similarities in their culture as there were in the village he came from, though certainly not the rest of the Imperium. But he knew he couldn't. He'd be killed on sight, as all Imperials were.
When she wrote about the culture shock, he smiled devilishly. Yes, he knew. Dalma had shared so many stories about her own pilgrimage. He hadn't known about the greeting party, but it didn't surprise him. That was very on brand for his wife. They'd have a good laugh about it later over drinks. He audibly chuckled, causing the curious stares of the regulars to grow stronger.
When she thought he might think her ungrateful, he shook his head. He most certainly did not. He was happy, truly happy at every word in this letter. Yeva was growing and coming into her own, on her terms, in her way. Dalma knows best. The pilgrimage sounded like the best possible thing that could've happened to Yeva right now. Escape the stifled suffering of Zaichaer, and the war brewing on its front. Yes, the timing was ideal.
Franky set the letter down carefully. He'd tuck it away in his office, a special memento. He reached in and pulled out a beautiful redwood with crushed shell inlay, amazing craftsmanship. He undid the clip, hearing the hiss of a perfectly sealed box, raising an eyebrow at the level of detail and skill. Inside, resting on a cushion of what appeared to be silk of some sort, ebony in color, was a chorus line of cigar. They were exquisite looking, small bands of vines holding them together. Their scent, rich and earthy, carrying the humidity of the jungle wafted up and Franky couldn't help but take a deep inhale. Perfection. Absolute perfection. His mind knew that these would sell for thousands of gold in the Imperium, as they were forbidden in the Imperium being from Ecith, but the richest and most powerful had their methods. But his mind didn't care about that. His heart cared about how Yeva knew exactly what he enjoyed.
He picked one up gently, feeling it perfectly balanced, running it under his nose, feeling it both excite his senses and relax his body. He set it back down. He'd be lighting one up before too long. Next came the chocolates. Again, an equally ornate and well crafted box, and inside, chocolates. His eyes grew big in childlike wonder. Ecith was the only place that had chocolate, and usually by the time it was shipped anywhere, it had been exposed to so much air and humidity that it was often a bit bitter and lost some flavor. These, clearly, had not had that problem. Franky couldn't resist. He immediately grabbed one and popped into his mouth where it melted into a cascade of well balanced and flowing flavors. At first it was smooth, rich, a lazy river. Then it transitioned to hints of nuts and fruits, before finishing in a depth of sweetness balanced by the mild bitter. He'd never had chocolate that delicious before. Divine.
Next came the black whiskey, and he whistled lightly at the beauty of the bottle and how the contents moved inside. It was gorgeous. A night sky without a single star in it. He knew he would enjoy that later today too. Then he saw the gold coin for the Goblin King and smiled. She truly was a Seer to be. Dalma was the only other person in his life who put so much thought into gifts, while remembering traditions. Franky removed the bit of silk, and flipped the coin up to the ceiling with his thumb, dedicating it to the Goblin King.
It never came back down.
At the bottom was a smaller crate, and Franky hefted it out, immediately knowing roughly what it was, by the weight and sound. After all, he'd hefted his fair share of wine crates. Cracking it open, and reading the note, he smiled. Gifts for the staff too. Franky's heart, a bit turbulent these days as he was hesitant to enact the full measure of his plans, was relieved. He knew that one thing that he'd done, caring for and providing some level of guidance and support for Yeva was paying off. Not for himself, Yeva was not an investment. But it was truly helping her to become who she wished to be.
Chuckling, today would be a good day. He was in an excellent mood, cradling the whiskey bottle now, admiring the beautiful bottle. If he had a reason, he would close down the tavern today, have a celebration. It felt appropriate, and he was tempted to do it anyway, without a reason. Franky had many children with Dalma, and they all made him proud, and he couldn't help but feel that same type of pride for how Yeva was growing too.
