Euphemistically Yours

The first step was complete. My family was now aware of our plans to “protect” Eu. With that debacle passed, we gathered ourselves for our walk to town. However, Eu held back and started digging into the bucket of sand.

“Sand fwoof!” She held up a small crystal, practically identical to the one I had in my pocket.

“That was in the sand?” I looked at Grit.

“No! I got that sand from the riverbank using my hands! I would have noticed!”

“Mine… for now?” I held out my hand to Eu, and she deposited the crystal into my palm.

“What is it?” asked Swift, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look.

“A pretty crystal.” I answered. “I think she makes these using her magic somehow.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are they magic?”

“Uhh…”

“Sand fwoof!” insisted Eu.

“Fwoof is her word for magic, so I guess so?” I interpreted for the others.

“Fwoof means magic?” asked Grit.

“It’s her word for magic. Although I think it’s actually the sound of the wind.”

“Oh!” all three children agreed since they’d seen and heard that same wind so recently. Then Swift added, “It's like whoosh or swish!”

“Right! But, it’s her word for magic.”

“Magic?” inquired Eu, tilting her head.

“Fwoof is magic. Err… the word for fwoof is magic.” I corrected my grammar.

“Oh! Magic is word!” Eu added emphasis to her newest discovery.

I smiled in relief, realizing that I may never have to hear the word “fwoof” ever again.

“Cloud magic? Sand magic? Fwoof? Fwoof?”

“I have no idea what you are asking.” And … I guess my prediction was wrong. Fwoof was indeed still a word.

Annoyed, she stomped her foot. “Fwoof is magic. Sand fwoof is magic. Fwoof is not sand fwoof!”

Just how many fwoofs could be in one sentence? “Fine, fine… let’s discuss that later. Let’s go!” A headache was developing, and we were wasting time. I could already tell that today was going to be painful enough already.

Grit, as my son, walked beside me. There was no reason for concern, but we kept our eyes out and watched for trouble. After all, that was our duty as the men of the house. Since we were going into town, there was no need for swords or armor, but we both had our daggers in our belts.

The four womenfolk, as fit their role, walked behind us in a group. The eldest two walked on the sides to protect the center. A trip into town was interrupting the usual daily lessons, so instead Constance used the time by having the girls recite scriptures as we walked. Obviously, the antiquated language threw Eu for a loop, so she didn’t have anything to add.

The path from my front door led to the road and then led to the beginnings of the cobbled streets flowing into Emberwell. Originally, a central keep had been built on the hill above the convergence of two rivers. Since then, walls had sprung up and a city within. In the past, anything outside the walls were considered outside the city proper. Now, with decades of peace and prosperity, it had become too crowded to pretend anymore.

Once buildings and housing became more prevalent, the streets fit into that patchwork, becoming increasingly narrow and twisted. Structures were placed without any rhyme or reason beyond who purchased each piece of land. The city's traffic was forced to flow through that pattern.

The west side of the town followed the western branch of the river as it led toward the center. As a result, there were a few small riverside docks and associated merchant and trade houses. Despite that, the majority of commerce was local. There were several smiths, masons, and carpenters, but also small businesses such as chandlers, bakers, brewers, and weavers.

One of these small businesses was my first goal, a sword smith. The front of the shop had large shutter doors, currently slung upwards on a hinge and propped up by poles. His wares were displayed within, resting on top of cloth.

When he saw me approach, he came out through the door to kneel down, as fit our difference in status. However, he was an old acquaintance, so I lifted him up again.

“Deft! My friend! Here to sharpen your sword?”

“Not today. I’m buying a new one. You mind if I look?”

“Go ahead.” He watched as I moved over to the shorter swords.

“A second blade? Trying out a new style?”

“Nah… it’s a gift for a child. In fact, do you have anything that is … blunt?”

“Hahaha! Worried the kid will cut his own leg off?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” I took a look at Eu whose eyes were glittering with excitement at the sight of the weaponry. If anything, when buying a sword for her, my main concern was for myself!

“How about this one?" The smith asked. "It’s cheap, it’s light, and I haven’t sharpened the edges down yet. Perfect for a child’s first sword.”

I took a close look, focusing on the crossbar and the pommel. After all, I didn’t even care about the blade itself. “Hmm… do you have something that looks fancier?”

“You want something pretty, huh?” He pointed to a longer blade. “I made this for a merchant, but his home burned down and his business crumpled. I had to keep it since he couldn’t match the deposit.”

I took a long look at it. The sword fit well with my concept for Eu as a mage, but for best results, I decided to ask the opinion of the recipient. “What do you think Eu? This sword is for you. Is it too big?”

She hardly even glanced at me while scanning over the weapons, “I want… THIS one!”

Her pointing finger stopped on the stupidest looking thing in the whole display. I stared at the monstrosity she had chosen. Was it even a sword? The blade was about half the normal length, plus the front edge was covered in serrated spikes with back facing barbed hooks. It was ridiculous! More importantly, it was ugly.

“What IS this?” I looked to shop owner for help.

Naturally, he was confused that I was buying a sword for a girl, but he only took a moment to regain his professionalism before responding. “It’s a sword-breaker from the Alliance of Cities across Southsea. I bought it in a trade and it’s ... a good example of how different cultures lead to different designs.”

I couldn't help but smirk at his attempt to redeem this disaster. “Sword-breaker? It can break a sword?”

“No. Well … I seriously doubt it. But the idea is you can catch a blade within the enclosures there on the front edge and then hold it or twist it away from your opponent.”

“Ahh… I see.” Of course, what I actually saw was the shopkeeper's desperation when he saw a chance to foist off this farcical weapon on me. “Let’s focus on actual swords.”

I caught Eu's attention and gestured again to the long sword with the fancy hilt. “Eu. This one, is it good?”

“Hmmph! Good… for now.”

After a bit of haggling with the shopkeep, we settled upon a price for the sword as well as the matching decorated sheath and a sword belt. Strangely, the fact that I was buying it for a young girl helped me haggle even harder for a good price.

After we strapped it around Eu’s waist, she immediately tried to pull it out of the sheath. Fortunately, the blade was too long for her arms, so it got stuck halfway out. Perfect!

“Deft! Help sword!” she whined.

“Oh? Is it too long?”

“Deft! Help sword!”

“It’s only there for show. Put it back. Besides, you shouldn’t pull out a sword in the street.”

“Deft is carrot water!” she complained, but then she slid the sword back in.

“What is carrot water?” asked Grit.

“It’s some sort of insult. I’m not too worried about it.”

However, Eu, realizing that her insults weren’t reaching me, decided that now was the perfect time to explain. “Carrot!” She pointed at my crotch. “Water! Ssssss!” She then made the sound of a stream of water.

Naturally, my jaw fell open. Grit stepped back a few paces in horror. Constance covered her mouth in shock. Even Progress understood the reference and turned her face away, blushing in her shame. The worst, though, was Swift who sweetly asked, “What does she mean?”

I coughed and looked to Constance for help. She pulled my daughters aside to practice some more of the holy scriptures. Grit moved back to the shop to look at the other swords. That left me to talk to Eu.

I bent down to look her in the eye, “Eu, that was very rude.”

“Rude? Hmmph!” She stomped her foot and glared at me.

“We don’t say words like that or point at people’s … err … carrots.”

“Hmmph!” Now she wouldn’t even look at me.

“Are you sorry?”

“No!”

“Maybe I should take the sword back. After all, you’re acting like a child.”

“No! My sword!” her eyes flashed toward me.

“You can’t even draw it!”

“Sorry! Not carrot water! My sword!”

“You won’t call me carrot water again?”

“No!”

“Then, you can keep the sword. That is… unless you break your promise.”

“Won’t call you carrot water!” she repeated my words back to me.

I nodded and stood back up.

“Call Grit carrot water?” She smiled.

I could only sigh.