A human noble family is holding a big birthday party for all the children of the unwanted peoples. They don't know the actual dates of the birthdays, so twice a year, they hold a celebration for all of them. Because these children are innocents, and the innocent should be celebrated, not mistreated. They ask Wraithvine to please come to help set up entertainments for the party. -- Anon Guest
You are cordially invited, said the ornate script, to the celebrations of the official birthday for Unwelcome Peoples in the Kingdom of Tezowen. There followed co-ordinates to find the place.
Easy enough. So easy that a less trusting person might suspect a trap.
It was not a trap. It was a gigantic festival with a feast, entertainment stalls, and gift-wrapped presents. And a young prince personally attending the party as officiator of proceedings.
It was something of a mess, but the prince noticed Wraithvine in a cold second and welcomed hir with open arms. "Oh! Oh you came, thank the gods. I do apologise if I was taking you away from any other business. We do need a few little miracles."
Wraithvine took in the stacks of tables, the chairs still on the carts, the utter chaos of prepared food, barrels of drink, and nothing where it should have been. "Oh dear," ze said.
"The first one's always a learning experience," said the prince. "Rather impromptu, if I must be honest. You see... good things happen to the people who welcome the unwelcome, so... I thought of the one thing they rarely get from leaders like me. Recognition." He turned to someone in the chaotic melee and shouted, "Mags! Ze came!"
Mags was a Hellkin, and interesting shade of chartreuse, with horns like a ram's. "Ah! The Wraithvine, I presume. Hail and well met, but someone needs to start organising this mess. Brody."
Prince Broderus blushed. "All right. Uhm. Stalls under the eaves, I think. Three different foods, then a drinks stall. Tables perpendicular to the street? Yes?" He turned to Wraithvine. "Does that sound good, sir?"
The story came out in bits and pieces as the prince and his once-whipping-boy Magnanimity moved furniture together. And, of course, as Wraithvine made the setting up all the quicker. Seeing a prince and one of his lifelong advisors with their sleeves rolled up was all the eternal wizard needed to be convinced of their honesty.
This was not a trap. This was making amends.
Broderus' father had a dim view of the Unwelcome, but he at least acknowledged that they were some kind of good luck. Though picking Mags out of a foundling-house was more a choice of aesthetics than genuine charity.
"I matched the House Colours," said Mags. "Lucky for me, Brody's a lot more soft-hearted than his sire."
"I cried even when you were scolded. And for things you did," laughed Prince Broderus. "But one of the best ways to soothe my upsets was... a Wraithvine story. We grew up hearing all your legends, and this," he gestured at the bunting going up, "is my regrettable first attempt at using my kind hands."
"You're doing very well," allowed Wraithvine.
The prince made a tiny squeaking noise. He was lucky that he'd just put down the heavy table, as Mags had to catch him in his swoon.
"Breathe, Brody. Ze eats and rests and takes a crap like the rest of us mere mortals. Oh look! Our first guest."
There was a halfbred street urchin peeking around an alley corner, obviously very nervous about all the people in Crown Livery.
Suitably distracted, the prince smiled for the child. "Hello. Welcome. Happy birthday, little one. Would you like some food? It's all for you and any others like you."
"There'll be cake," added Mags.
The kid ran to snatch a sausage on a stick from a stall and then zoomed to take shelter under a table to cram it into their cheeks.
Brody sighed. "Dad's laws may have protected them, but... not nearly enough."
"They'll warm up," soothed Wraithvine. "It's hard for the distrusted to trust." Ze poured a small tankard full of small ale[1]. Ze took it to the sheltering table and placed it within the kids' reach. "Here. Something to wash it down with."
It was one of the older Hellkin of the area who announced the all-clear. After that, all of the Unwelcome came out of the woodwork. It would be well past sunset before any of them began to relax about it all.
Though they didn't quite relax about their prince serving them portions of the enormous cake.
[1] The medieval answer to soft drink, of which we still have ginger ale and root beer.
[Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash]
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