Silas and Wren #6
Masterpost
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Warnings: lots of slavery talk, dehumanization, mention of measles, death mentions
“Do you miss your family?” asked Master.
“Hm? Oh. I dunno.” Wren looked down at the board. “I didn’t know my mom very well. Your move.”
Master moved his rook over three spaces.
“Me either,” admitted Master. “What about your dad?”
“I never met him,” he said. Wren moved up his pawn.
“Oh. Siblings?”
“I don’t know if I have any.”
“Well that sucks.” Master’s candidness almost made him laugh.
“I guess I miss that I don’t have any family? If that makes sense.”
“No, I get it,” said Silas, “How come you didn’t get to know your mother? Surely you were with her for a while.”
“Oh, I was sold off at eight. Master Lewett didn’t like keeping his slaves' children around. Check.”
Master hummed as he studied the board. Wren didn’t really like chess. He didn’t mind complicated rules, but the pieces and the board were so boring.
Silas moved his bishop in front of his king. Damn.
“What was your mom’s name?”
“He called her Willow.” Wren liked carcassonne more than chess. The colorful pieces in the shape of little men were fun. More than the black and white chess set.
He saw an opening that Silas had missed.
“Checkmate.”
“Dang.”
___________________
Silas told Wren he would be out running errands all day. It was true, but he couldn’t tell Wren what he was doing. He couldn’t forgive himself if he got Wren’s hopes up and failed.
“Hello, sir! Is everything okay with your purchase? We do have a return policy-”
He made his way back to the slavehouse. If he could just find that salesman again…
“No, no, everything’s fine. I was wondering, is there a way to track down a specific slave?” he asked.
“Well…” said the man, stroking his chin. “I suppose it’s possible. Do you have the name of an owner, or anything specific?”
“A Mr. James Lewett? He owned a woman he called Willow, who had a child while serving him. I’m looking to purchase her.”
“I’ll see what I can do. One of the other slavehouses may know the name. There will be costs involved, however, and I can’t promise anything.”
“That’s fine. And I’ll pay whatever you need to get it done.”
___________________
The salesman, Mark, promised to look for Wren’s mother and family. It hadn’t cost much actually, just a fee for Mark’s time, and a small amount for postage. All he had to do was wait.
It wasn’t fair that Wren didn’t know where his mom was. Even though Silas had his own issues with his family, at least he knew they were alive. He knew where he came from, knew his last name, his family’s personalities.
Wren couldn’t say the same for his family. He didn’t even know who his dad was. Or even if he had siblings.
___________________
Waiting for the information was killing him. Keeping such a big secret from Wren was difficult, but he couldn’t afford to tell him what he was up to. What if Mark didn’t find anything? Or worse?
___________________
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned into a month, until a month and a half into waiting, Silas finally got a letter.
Dear Mr. Raventoothe,
Please forgive the delay. Your request was rather in-depth, and oddly difficult to investigate.
I contacted Mr. Lewett. Regretfully, Mr. Lewett had sold ‘Willow’ some years ago, to a slavehouse. He has no recollection of any potential relatives of ‘Willow’, nor any potential slaves who may have fathered your purchase (forgive the assumption, I presume that’s what this is about).
Mr. Lewett indicated ‘Willow’ may have birthed several children, but not under his ownership. Your companion was her only child during her years there, according to his memory.
I did reach out to the slavehouse, and according to their records, 'Willow' (designated 11053) was sold to a Mrs. Benson.
Mrs. Benson died of old age a year ago. At my request, the family went through her records and found this:
11053 was renamed ‘Honey’, and worked as Mrs. Benson’s maid for many years. The family has fond memories of her, and she was one of their favorites. Unfortunately, ‘Honey’ died from a measles outbreak five years ago. My condolences.
I also reached out to the slavehouse where Lewett purchased ‘Willow/Honey’, but they closed due to a fire and reopened in another location. The files were either destroyed in the blaze or lost in the move. However, It may please you to know that no merchandise was harmed in the accident.
It pains me to tell you that it is impossible to locate any potential father or siblings of your companion. Slaves are often renamed, relocated, or sold and purchased privately. Often there are no records of their children until they are sold, and it is rare their parentage is noted in any capacity.
Regards, Mark.
P.S: Enclosed is the remaining postage fee that I did not use.
God damn it. Silas teared up. Willow was dead. From illness that could have been prevented. She had died five whole years ago, and Wren had no idea. And he probably had brothers and sisters out there. Living siblings that he would never know.
It wasn’t fair. Sniffling, he stuffed the letter back in its envelope and shoved it in his desk.
He’d keep the letter, but Wren didn’t need to know that he failed to locate his mom. Maybe at some point he’d tell Wren his mother passed away, but for now the letter would stay hidden in his desk drawer.
“Is everything alright, Master?”
He whirled around.
“Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said, wiping his eyes. Wren looked a little suspicious, but said nothing.
“Um,” his mind raced. “How about a game of carcassonne?” He knew that was Wren’s favorite.
“Okay,” said Wren, still unsure. Silas got out the box. Thankfully, he ordered the river expansion and they hadn’t played with it yet.
Hopefully Wren wouldn’t notice how distracted he was.
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