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Lost by one, found by another (Private, Dusty)


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Calder was unaware of the historical moment more so than even Halvard. Far as Calder was concerned it just looked cute and that old mare was very nice and helpful to him. “Connections? Did not even think about that. Maybe next time I see her I can ask to have tea. She did seem plenty nice.” He says back to Halvard thinking on it a moment before speaking more. “Dockside pubs? That sounds fun. Hah, maybe I can win a drinking contest! Not the smallest Bull in the pub now and no way the locals can best me and you. Shame we are not in Equestria, heard stories of are young out drinking that lot.” He says chuckling. “Well, if it’s this far away best get going. Lead the way! And seeing as we will have time to kill… What was your home like? Your youth. Not calling you old! I just want to hear about where you were raised. Bet it’s far more fun than mine!”

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The walk was just about long enough for Calder to perhaps regret asking Halvard an open-ended question.  Clan Breen was unique enough for one's upbringing among them to take quite a bit of explanation, and Halvard's natural way of speaking with a wry economy of words warred with an equally natural desire to explain what made his own people unique.  It was the latter side that was to ultimately win out.

 

"Well, to begin with... you have seen the fjords, no doubt, that cut into the shoreline of Whitescar and the north of the Equestrian Continent.  My clan's homeland centers around one of them, a narrow strip of soil nestled between two high, cave-ridden cliffs cut in half by a river of glacial melt.  It was positioned just astride the currents of the sea, so that the flotsam and jetsam of the waves collected in its estuary.  That was the place I grew up, and not one square inch of that ground was wasted.  Every scrap of tillable soil had something growing on it, even if it was only clover to rest for the other crops. Stones had been hauled down from the clifftops to line the sea-crags enough for there to be spots to moor the boats, a harbor built by hooves over the generations.  Everything that came into our grasp, whether from the sea, or the land, was put to use at least twice-over.  This included the caribou born to us. 

"Since we mark our clan by dye, and not by tattoos, everyone could see who we were for a mile, at least.  This made disowning exiles impossible, and so we had to come to a different arrangement.  If you were not essential to the clan in its homeland, you had to live elsewhere.  But if you continued to bring back to the clan useful things, the clan would continue to acknowledge you.  We did not begin very numerous, so any aggressive raids against our neighbors would have proved disastrous.  Thus began our traditions of trade and defense.  I passed my Will Test much like other caribou, but my lot was chosen for a life abroad, so I became a guardian of the roads and traveling merchants.  Eventually, I worked my way up to overseeing several garrisons of the Vakstyra, and on an expedition to Saarvergerg, I decided to try my hoof at a little arena combat, which is where I met my mate Sigrun, the Chieftain of Clan Askr.  Through her, I came to be involved in matters of the High King, and, well, foreign policy and trade.  And so here I am.  And here we are!"

 

Here they were indeed, for by this time, Halvard had led them to the docks, where several pubs lay open for their custom.  "Any catch your fancy?"  

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Lucky for the older bull, Calder was not one to be bored from stories easily and listened with interest. He found it more interesting do to him never truly seeing much of of that land. In all he has seen some of the coastline and and one dock, most of trading was done more removed from towns for clients willing to pay a nice sum of gold for goods now band thanks to the king. So hearing about part of it was fun for Calder. Soon the walk was over, feeling rather fast do to passing of a story to speed it along. “I get to pick?” He asked with chuckle. “Nice, dump it on me. I don’t know them at all.” He added looking over the picks they may have… Something fun but safe. A working class bar with a lack of sailors, if some were to hold on to some hate it will be them. Calder has first hoof seen why they’d hate him, more so if they got too see him face to face in such fun ‘meetings’ at sea.

 

“Hrm, well…” He flicks his ears thinking. “Goodness, must I pick? At least slime it down? You must know the best ones” He says laughing before looking around at what was on offer if he must pick one. Cheep, nice looking, busy but not stuffed and maybe some handsme looking staff on hoof. all things matter in picking a nice plase to get drunk. 

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Okay, perhaps it was a little much to ask of someone totally unfamiliar.  Halvard still found it interesting that Calder wasn't able to make general judgments about social tone... or perhaps lacked the confidence to back his judgment with action.  Yes, upon reflection, that was the most likely explanation.  He would go along with who he was with, and adapt as best he could.  Useful information to know, though it might get his young charge into trouble someday.

 

"We'll go with this one, then."  Halvard pointed out a rustic-looking place, with a sign in Long Guo that would translate to 'The Longshore Shortpier.'  It was a pub more for the loaders and unloaders than the sailors themselves.  Halvard himself preferred it as the customers, on the whole, found caribou merchants good for business, rather than sailors who would have a grudge against the competition... or perhaps worse past impressions.

 

The air was already thick with the scent of sesame and citrus as hearty meals were being fried up for the workers beginning to stream in.  Halvard gestured Calder to go in first.  He wanted to see how the young bull would approach an unfamiliar situation when he himself was not the one Calder aimed to impress.

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Halvard was not far from the mark on his judgment of Calder, adapting to the ones around him and trying to be homogeneous to the environment was ingrained heavily in to his personality to help in the dodging of unwanted conflict. A useful skill for somebull that often engaged in sneaky, backstabbing shadowplay. But when confronted with rapidly changing environments it left him much in the spot he was now. Grasping at straws as he tries to workout what is the best way to be homogeneous to a unknown place. Sticking to Halvard was easy as he’d just shadow the older bull and incorporate what Halvard does and acts to himself. But without this guideline Calder felt very nervous, not that he’d willingly show it. “Seems nice.” He says with nod before reluctantly takeing pont as they walk to the pub.


Calder took in all the details he can, clothing, standing, what topics were being openly spoken about and more in the hope to not make a mess of this and sit in the wrong place. After a moment of hesitation he pushed on. Head held tall with pride with a steady speed to his walk, not letting his missing leg appear to bother or slow him down. It was a more default way to act and more built for dealing with other sof his race, no weakness and no fear. Just walk in like you owen the place but don’t brush horns with the Bulls that carved out a part of the pub as their turf. As such he must find a table out of the way and with the smallest amount of congestion around it. Sitting down at tabel he found to his lieking he smiles at Halvard. “So, what’s so good here? Some mead I must try? Or some food?” He asked to put the leadership of the moment back on to Halvards sholders and off his.

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Well, that wasn't bad for starters.  In truth, Calder was still new to Halvard's 'crew,' and couldn't quite use that identity as a basis for independent action, yet.  The sooner he could do so, the better, or at least the blue bull thought.  He had little idea of his charge's internal desires, no more than Calder did of himself, in all likelihood.  "We'll start with the docker's fry-up, as they call it.  The mead with it isn't as strong as what you get at home, but hey, not like we're in Whitescar, and the food more than makes up for it."  Succulent odors from the kitchen bore out his statement.

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“Well it’s not shocking to hear it’s more weak. Bet they did not have a mug of it shoved in thare face as a calf to shut them up.” Calder says with a soft chuckle. “Well ok maybe not that young but the point stands. But let's see this food, just about everything I have eaten here blows me away and i’m ready to be stunned again. Don’t think I can ever go back to eating green bread and wet grains.” He looks around the pub as he talks taking in the view and sounds. “At least we hads good mead, did help mask the tast of muldy bread.” 

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Nodding at Calder, Halvard called over to the waiter, a slim, handsome young fellow with a smart-looking tunic.  Well, it was early in the night, and he was newly employed.  Before long, there would be holes and stains like the rest of the crew.  "Two Docker's fry-ups, and a pint of mead each, to start."  Nodding, the waiter scurried off, eager to impress the boss, no doubt.

 

"Aye, that's one of the reasons trading is so lucrative.  Once a caribou gets a taste for what the southerners have to offer, they appreciate a steady supply.  And truth be told, I think once the amber craze dies down, mead will be the next product we start exporting.  It has the advantage of being consumable, so customers will continue to come back for more.  The difficulty is acclimating their weaker constitutions to proper drink!"  Halvard laughed, settling back as increased sounds from the kitchen testified to the hard work of the cook on their order.

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Calder eyed up the waiter for a moment, Handsome young lad. Was not too bad looking for a non Bull and when the waiter left he did steal a glance at the leaving flank. What can he say, some of they males here were not too bad on the eyes at all. “Well I’m a believer on that, but I think my clan's food was rather on the bad side. Just whatever we got are hooves on that lasted long at sea. The feasts we had if a….” He looks around the pub and has a nervous chuckle. “Shopping trip went well. As we had to eat what did not last good at sea. One of the few times even I got to eat will, most of the time I was at the bottom of the feeding oder. Only got few bits more than are cattle. Of corse one look at how skiny I am gives that away.” He leans in to the seat and thinks for a moment. “Well I think some will like some good proper drinks. Drink like a bull! Bet you some will love that. Maybe have some events for it, have them try too out drink some of us? If they win they get some free drinks or something.” He offers, if not too seriously he felt it may be good fun someday even if he did not say with Halvard that long.

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However seriously Calder may have offered his suggestion, Halvard was certainly seeming to give it serious consideration.  "Hmm... perhaps, I can see it working.  Drink the merchant under the table, rest of the barrel is free.  Event will have an entrance price of course, as well as drinks for the spectators.  Yes, and betting too.... You know, I rather think that's a fine idea.  Would make an excellent debut of the product, I must remember that.  Excellent!"  He gave his new protege an affirming grin; the lad had the right stuff, it it was encouraged.  Shame his clan hadn't thought so, but oh well, their loss.

 

In a short time, the same attractive waiter came back with their plates, a pile of fried... things from the sea, slathered in sesame and spices.  No telling what was once alive in there, or what it was when it had a name.  It all depended on what came in the morning catch. But it was all fresh, and it didn't taste too fishy, and that was all a docker wanted.  Besides there being enough of it, which there was.

The waiter, after placing the plates, stayed put for a bit, not quite yet needed elsewhere.  "Sir, is he...?"  He glanced curiously towards Calder.

"With me."  Halvard answered.  "Just arrived in town yesterday; shipwrecked.  I'm helping him get back on his feet; he hasn't decided yet if he'll join with my clan or another; it's why he hasn't go the blue coat."  That seemed to be what had sparked the waiter's curiosity, but he didn't leave yet, instead looking at Calder with mild interest.  Perhaps waiting for the lad to introduce himself?

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For some maybe a plate full of things that may have been living and god's only knows what may be disgusting or scary. For Calder it just looked like a big heap of yummy food, long ago he learned not to be picky and enjoy whatever was slapped down in front of him. Food was food and everything so far has tasted here wonderful! So he was about to dig in when he saw the waiter was sticking around to chat with Halvard. He had no problem with that handsome buck sticking around some… Even if he never understood WHY he was found of such things. Just that he liked them and liking them means you were an even bigger failure of a bull, but then again just about everything he did made him a bigger failure of a bull. At least what’s what his dad beat into him. Halvard seems to think about it in a very different way with the praise he gave about that plan help sell mead. It put a small smirk of pride on Calder’s face hearing that. He was getting a nice amount of praise today and it really was a nice feeling to hear some bull like what he had to say.

 

“Thanks Halvard.” He says holding that small smile before looking at the waiter. “[Hello, I can speak this rather well! At least I think so, sometimes I do worry I am calling myself outlandish names without knowing it.]” He says chuckling. “[Names ‘Calder’, like my blue friend told you more or less all of it. No clan, washed up here. But as being shipwrecked go’s I think I hit the jackpot. What's your name? Only fair I know, hate to just call you around as nothing more than waiter.]” He asked before picking up the cup of mead betwen his frunt hooves and in one go chuged all of it. "Oh... You were not jokeing, not as bad as the water ponys drink but it can stand to have more backbone. So close but so far." He says to Halvard with a swich to thare native tongue. 

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Halvard decided to stay back from this conversation, let Calder handle himself.  He'd have to learn to talk to others in time, and this seemed a pretty good place to start.  So, the bull merely settled back to enjoy his dinner, observing the conversation with interest as he ate.

 

The waiter, meanwhile, was pleased to hear Calder speak his native tongue.  In a manner of speaking; he was actually a pony rather than a longma or qilin; being descended from the Manechu tribes.  He seemed to have fit into the urban culture fairly well, though he still maintained his native style of dress.  His mane, unlike the braids of his ancestors, was simply bound like his tail in two bronze bands.  "Don't worry, you speak it as well as I do!"  The earth pony flashed a smile, as one technical foreigner to another.  "My name is... well, you can call me Kublai."  There was a slight shift of his eyes; that might not have been the name he was born with.  He nodded towards his plate.  "You like it?  I thought it unusual when I first tried it, but then, I hadn't been near the sea much before moving here."

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Calder did not notice Halvard sticking out of it with his focus more on the handsome pony talking to him. Small talk came easy to Calder, nothing at risk and no worries he almost forget where they were as he smiled back and chuckles. “Ku’bal? Ko’la.. Kublai? And they say ARE names are a muzzle full!” He laughs gently before looking at the food. “Well, not had a bite yet. A moment.” He leans down takes up a muzzle full, biting and chewing it before swallowing down in a big meaty gulp and leans his head side to side than grins. “I like it, but i’d eat just about anything put down in front of me so can’t say i’m the best judge.” He leans down and takes another bite of food and like the first time, swallows it down so fast it was like watching a starving dog eat. Done wolfing down a few more bites he looks back at Kublai. “Don’t want to keep you too long. But where are you from?” He asked eyeing the pony up, not a bad looking pony not at all. 

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Kublai seemed amused at the struggle to pronounce his name.  "Calder comes easily enough to my lips; perhaps everypony else isn't trying hard enough!"  He stood by, awaiting the caribou's culinary judgment, smiling a bit as he heard how Calder had gone hungry before now.  "Such hunger is the best of sauces, or so my grandfather used to say.  But then, he was the sort of pony who put himself through hardship on purpose, for fear of becoming weak.  He was an old pony of the northern steppes, I left there as soon as I could.  Didn't hold with his attitude."

 

He would have continued, but a bustle near the doorway signaled the start of the evening rush, and he hastily bid them both a good day.  Halvard watched him go, and then watched Calder watch him go.  "Liked the look of him, did you?"
 

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Calder can’t help but feel some familiarity to Kublai’s history with how his dad acted. At least when it came from fearing being weak and making unneeded hardships, some of him wondering if the pony’s dad was just as mean as well. But he kept such wonders to himself. “[Can not say my father was better, may have been worse.]” He says glancing to his missing leg before letting out a short huff and smiling as Kublai has to leave. “[Yes yes, get going… And more mead!]” He chuckles before going back to his food, digging in just in time for him to choke on it as Halvard asked something rather silly.

 

He spits up some food and utters a few colourful cuss words in their native language that dealt with a cow riding a bulls antlers. “What? No, what do you think I am!?” He snapped back before looking sorry he did so just as fast. “I am sorry, didn't mean to yell, sorry sorry.” He added flinching back in to his seat as if Halvard was going to jump the table and whack him for that outbrust.

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"Sure thing!"  Kublai called back, throwing a charming grin over his shoulder at Calder as he scurried off to fulfill orders.  It was hard to say at this point whether his friendliness was specific to Calder, or just the normal attitude he took towards all customers to increase his tips.

 

What Halvard could definitely say for sure was that his remark struck a nerve.  He didn't flinch at his protege's outburst, merely placing his tankard down upon the table and waiting it out.  "I think," He said, with deliberate patience, "That you are not quite so good at hiding things as you seem to think that you are.  I sense that was at least a sore point between your father and you.  Whether or not he had any facts behind his suspicions... well, I'll leave that lie, for now."  He took another bite of fish, adding, "I wouldn't kick you out even if he did, but I would advise staying clear of Whitescar if so.  His attitude is not uncommon across the clans, but much less so in the Southern nations."

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“I uh…” Calder was barely able to speak as he slowly sits up, recovering from his moment. He really did not know what to say. He’s never gotten to say anything on it outside of one slave that knew. He took to staring at his food and poke at the plate with a hoof, scooting it around before he finds a few words. “I’m I am a very bad at being a caribou.” He says slumping back into his seat. “I don't understand you, why you do what you do. I am crippled, I am weak, I am fearful. I am everything a bull is not meant to be yet you keep doing nice things for me. None were never nice to me before but one. A slave and my only friend. He was the only moral support I ever got and even that was taken away from me. I’m scared, confused and just trying my best to ride along and have anything to cling on to. I just want to fit in so badly and be liked.” Calder shuts his eyes as he speaks, doing his best to keep his act together. Not that he was acting, this was venting. Real venting and it was horrifying to do.

 

But Calder was going now and he can’t stop the train, his voice a mess as he just keeps letting all the built up feelings and thoughts keep flowing.“I just want to be loved for one time in my bloody life and not live in the consent fear I am going to tossed overboard, kicked, pushed around or made to watch my father eat a feast with his other son well I am starving and the only one I can count on to be there for me is gone now. I am more alone than I have ever been and all I can do is hope the gods have feinly taken mercy on me. Not that they will, why’d they ever help such a worthless caribou? But by their name you have felt like a gift so far. In two days you have done more for me than my father ever did in years. I’m scared of upsetting you, I don’t want to be all alone in a land I don’t understand.” He says as his head falls on the table, pulling his front legs over his face and muzzle to hide it, he was at least for now, done with that waterfall of feelings. He had no clue where it came from but it happened.

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Admittedly, Halvard had not been expecting Calder to break down completely in front of him like this, and wasn't really sure what to do next.  After all, he was only slightly less new to the whole 'being a good father' thing than Calder was to 'being a good son.'  He'd relied on instinct so far, and right now his instinct told him to shut up until the other had finished talking, and then to just hold out a hoof, for Calder to take or not.  "If I ever intended to leave you, I never would have picked you up.  You're not alone now."  That, at least, he knew was the right thing to say, whatever else had to be said.

 

What else was to be said, though, he didn't know. 

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Calder was no less ready for it than Halvard was, maybe even less so as the younger Male truly did not want to open up his real feelings. The shock, rush, anger and more acted like a wall to allow him to work and act without the stress of what happened to him. But it was bound to fail sooner or later  and Halvards acts of kindness did the most to hammer down the wall. Calder truly was clueless as to what to do, say or think for a few moments as his gathered himself and worked out fully what has happened. The Raid, losing a leg, being tossed over to die at sea, swimming to land… It was a hurricane that happened in just a few days and just about a week later here he was sitting in a ber trying to act like nothing happend.

 

Seeing the offered hoof he just looked at it as Halvard told him again he’d not leave Calder. He did not know what to do or think, just stareing at the hoof before holding his hoof out and pushing it on Halvards. Was it an act of care? Kinship? It didn't matter to Calder as he just took the offer. What did Calder want in life? Where did he want to go? He acted like he had plans, he tried to make himself believe his self appointed lies that he did not need Halvard. Just another tool, just another pawn. Was Halvard that? Or were the goods taking mercy giving Calder what wanted? Was it family? Maybe. Pulling himself back together he sits up and looked at Halvard. “I’m sorry for… That. I… I don’t know. I think it just… All of it. Everything that happened to me hit home.” He says rubbing his face to hide the tears he had. “I think when we get… Home. I will tell you more about where and what happend to me.”

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  • 4 weeks later...

Holding Calder's hoof in a grip that one could moor a boat with, yet taking care not to squeeze too hard, Halvard nodded.  "I will gladly hear it.  In the meantime..."  He pointed at the still-half-full plate.  "Don't forget to eat!"  He smiled, hoping to break the tension and allow the young Bull time and opportunity to back down from an emotional peak.

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Calder nodded gently as he rubs his face and sits tall pulling himself back together as best he can, but he can only shove so much of it back under the rug as gets back to his food. “Thank you.” Was all he had to say on it, he felt bad for exploding like that but it was bound to happen. Traumatic things are never easy to keep down and he had plenty in short order. But just maybe his life is going to change for the better… Maybe. His hopes were so slim they may as well be dashed before he had some. But he had nothing more to believe in. Revenge agent his father then what? He snorted and shoved more food in his maw, at least eating was nice way to vent. “I need more bloody drinks.” He says in an almost silent tone.

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It's a thin thread of hope to pin a future on, but one can suspend a world upon that thread.  Faith, Hope, and Love all three use small quantities, carefully nurtured, to move mountains.  Halvard knew full well there was little enough over the whole of Whitescar, and could only hope that though little, it was indeed enough.

 

But, philosophy would have to be kept internal.  Calder wanted drinks, and by Vakstyra, he deserved them.  "So you do.  Bartender!  More mead!"  

The rest of the meal, though subdued, was pleasant enough.  Kublai even came back to present the check, mercifully not having come by the table again until Calder had gotten himself together.  "Can I hope to see you again here?"  The manechu waiter asked, directing his question directly towards the younger bull.

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Calder was more than happy to get more drinks tossed his way, well some may look down at him for smothering his problems with mead he feels they are just full of it. He already vented and put it on the table, he was hiding nothing now. Now it was just about making herself feel good. Speaking of that the handsome waiter came back. “So long as I don’t find better mead mead and food.” He says back with a grin, already feeling better thanks to the help of a few more mugs of mead. For a moment his brain wanted to pass a remake about the waiters looks but even with some mead in him he was not that brave. So it stayed inside unspoken. “And shame it got so busy, next time I eat we must talk more.” He says with a tipsy smille. “When is it more slow?”

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Kublai, in the same vein of humor, replied, "Ah, and when the good mead goes, so will the customers, and close on their heels shall be the good waiters, eh?"  He chuckled, clearing away Halvard's now-empty plate.  "Between the hours of lunch and early dinner, the place is very slow, so much that I am often not called in.  But if you were to say when you were coming, I'd be happy to stay longer than my lunch duties."  After all, customers eating and drinking leisurely with a friendly staff generally ordered more and tipped better...

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Calder nods and gets up with smile, wiggling a bit to get steady on his one rare leg. It was yet to stop feeling very weird to stand on just one rare leg and thinking about cute bucks did make him wonder about a few things. Like the changes one leg may have on some other parts of his life and how much harder it may be. Shaking his head to stop thinking about that before it got to carried away he sheaps more. “Well no need to go out of the way for this skinny washed up bull, trust me on that. But the offer is nice all the same.” He says smiling before something pops back in his head. “Hay how well do you know things around here? Like do you know if this city has a good place to hang out after sun down? You know, with clubs and all that fun?” he asked knowing he can’t go if they did, no coin to his name yet! But soon… maybe.

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