The Bellows and The Boy

Ozzy said nothing for a time, simply luxuriating in the moment. The combination of Fraser’s delicate fingers grazing along his chest and the subtle vibrations of his voice against his chest rose gooseflesh all over Ozzy’s big body, and he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so much. He turned his head slightly the plant a soft kiss to the crown of Fraser’s head and a contented sigh escaped him.

“I’d never use you Doc,” he said quietly, his thick fingers playing at the wispy hairs along the back of his neck. “Ain’t really my way...I’ve found people tend to do what you want if you ask ‘em nice enough. And you’re no coward for being wary of this,” Ozzy said, giving his cock a little shake before he pulled the bed linens up around them. “Even the Maiden’s of Sydor would see it as a challenge and they take all comers,” he offered with a tired chuckle that turned quickly to a yawn that Ozzy couldn’t bring himself to stifle. “We needn’t rush into such things..and if ever you wish to experience the other side, I’m happy to oblige you whenever you like.”

His eyes were closed well before he finished and in the span of three breaths, Ozzy was snoring. And just as he promised, not once did he let Fraser go.

*********
Ozzy was awake with the first bells but lay motionless until the sun peeked out through the clouds. ‘Another glorious day in Brynsland,’ he thought with a grin as he shift his eyes to regard Fraser’s sleeping face, then tipped his head down to bury his nose in the unruly mop of curly hair. He took several long deep breaths before settling back against the pillows, soaking a few more moments of bliss before he had to meet the new day.

New life…

One blissful night with Fraser could erase what would greet him on the levels below, or the plot against him. There was still very real danger ahead and Ozzy knew he had to keep his wits if he wanted to keep the promises he made to his beautiful boy. “A long life together,” he’d said, and he couldn’t insure anything of the sort if he languished in bed all day. ‘Maybe someday,’ he told himself with a chuckle as he slipped gingerly from Fraser’s grasp. There was no need for the boy to be awake just yet so Ozzy made his way stealthily out of the room to ready himself for the day. After making use of the chamber pot, he donned his undergarments from the day before, made his through his living quarters and down to the level below, only to find one of the Taylor boys standing at attention in just outside the door.

“Mornin’ Sir,” he said as Ozzy looked him over. Hair combed and face clean, his shirt was pressed and newish beneath a leather vest that was a size too big. Even his boots were polished and shined.

“Which one are you,” he asked gruffly trying not to seem impressed by the boy’s new careful appearance.

“Geoff, Sir. Jake’s down in the kitchen awaiting your order. Will you be dining in your suite again or shall we set your table in the parlor?”

“In the parlor but I’ll need to freshen up first,” Ozzy said and the boy immediately produced a steaming copper copper jug tucked in a basin along with a few fresh flannels rolled neatly around the base.

“If you’d prefer a bath…”

“This’ll do just fine Geoff. Thank you.”

“Your welcome, Sir. I can take it…”

“I believe I can manage,” was Ozzy’s quick reply as he took up the supplies. Noting the boy’s deflated shoulder, he offered him a nod and said, “My assistant is still weary from travel and made his bed on the sofa last night. Prepare another basin and leave it at the door upstairs, would you?”

Geoff beamed at that and stood up tall again as he said, “Of course, Sir. Shall we set a place for him as well?”

“Aye, boy...Quick and Fletch’ll be along before too long. Be sure they’re seated as well,” Ozzy instructed and Geoff nodded emphatically before running off. It was a few paces before he remembered his new position and slowed to a walk with a nervous glance over his shoulder. Then his eyes went wide as he froze in place. “Be off you lad, you’ve water to get.”
 
Fraser awoke slowly, disoriented, confused as to where he was for a minute or two. Gradually features of the room became clear and vaguely familiar. Memories of the past couple of days soon followed. He rolled over and reached out, looking for his bedmate. The man was gone. He knew it couldn't have been a dream, because he was here, and it was Osbourne's bed. When he breathed deeply, he could smell traces of last night's passion.

He took his time stretching his limbs, yawning, and waiting for his mind and body to wake fully. His stomach was starting to rumble for breakfast, so he finally slid out of bed, still naked. He tiptoed on bare feet to the door and peeked out, listening for voices. It was quiet.

"Osbourne?" he called out softly, stepping out into the main area of the suite and looking around. "Osbourne..."

It was unsettling being alone. The otherwise warm, inviting, comfortable living space felt hollow and strange with no one else here.

And then Osbourne was entering, carrying a basin and jug of steaming water. Fraser gasped and shrank back at first, prepared to hide himself, but he quickly realized with relief that the man was alone. He waited until Osbourne secured the door and stepped forward, smirking. His hair was wildly tousled from sleep - he hadn't even given it a thought.

"I was worried... waking without you," he said softly, his smile fading. "Perhaps it's silly. But what would I do, Osbourne, truly, if you... disappeared?"
 
“I’d do no such thing...not without you anyway,” Ozzy said as he eyes slowly devoured Fraser in all his glory. He crossed the room in four quick paces to cradle the boy’s cherubic face and lean down to brush their noses together before delivering a soft kiss. “Sorry for leaving you...you looked so peaceful all sprawled out, I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” he said as his hands slipped down Fraser’s slender shoulders. He stood up tall, a wry smile on his face as he said, “And now that you are, I want nothing more than to lay with you again, but alas, I have business...we have business to attend to. You are to be my assistant after all, and as much as I would like to hide away in these quarters with you, I still have orders to give...and the pesky business of my former superior’s attempt on our lives.”

Ozzy reluctantly released him, and began the tedious business of getting ready for the day. The basin was filled with half the steaming water and the flannels left to soak while he went off to retrieve his trunk of courtly wares. He hated it all, every embroidered tunic, every pair of breeches and tights, it all served to remind him of just how out of place he felt amongst the noble class. His skin began to crawl just thinking about all the flowing sleeves and sparkly bits, useless buttons and the like. He much preferred the practical attire of the soldier’s class. Leathers and wools in neutral tones that brought little to no attention when worn on the road. As the Bellows, Ozzy was to project an air of authority and what could be more authoritative that his finest leather jerkin and one of his many silk cravats. He laid it all out, along with a linen shirt and wool trousers before going to retrieve Fraser’s basin from the landing.

“As much as I prefer you in this state, I imagine you would rather be clothed to break fast,” he offered with one last glance at Fraser in the buff. “Quick and Fletch will join us. Perhaps you might be willing to get to know them while I have words with Elric,” he said as he dropped trough and turned his attention to the basin and mirror.

He used one flannel to wet himself from head to thigh, including his naughty bits before adding a sliver of tallow soap to the flannel and scrubbing off. Once cleansed, he turned his attention to his wild mane of hair and recently trimmed beard. It was all still a bit mangy for his taste but it was nothing a few strokes of his hunting blade couldn’t fix.

“Your first task will be to help me get rid of much of this,” he said as he worked the length into a long braid then wrapped and folded it around itself so it hung at the base of his neck. “It is not very courtly. And if I am to meet the crown, I must look the part,” he said with a snort as he made quick work of getting dressed.
 
Fraser watched him in fascination and appreciation as he cleaned up in preparation for today's important meetings. In between enjoying the show of Osbourne bathing, he glanced through the finery the man had laid out for himself, curious as to how an important man here was expected to dress, particularly one who met with royalty.

"I wouldn't want to change anything about you," Fraser declared, watching him wrestle and weave his magnificent mane. "Why should the crown need you to look especially courtly? You're not truly a courtier, are you? I won't pretend to understand the intricacies of anything at play around this mysterious, well-guarded, unmarked inn, but it's obviously all rather arcane. The crown, if anyone, should understand that your strengths are in your merit and not your ability to charm and manipulate people into promoting you. You're a fierce and cunning warrior - if it were up to me, I'd have you keep on looking that part. I shall never understand all these little rules people make for their little societies."

He sorted through a few more expensive-looking garments and tossed them down with a sigh before tending to his own bath.

"What am I to wear to breakfast? All I have is my grungy travelling clothes. You said you'd take me to the tailor, but I don't suppose you'll have much time for such things."
 
Nothing at all…

It was his first thought but Ozzy kept it to himself, having become keenly aware of Fraser’s anxiety he didn’t want his jest to be misinterpreted so he smiled and said, “This place is well accustomed to grungy travelers Doc. If anything, you’ll fit right in. You needn’t worry about such things, in a few days time you’ll be recognized as the Bellows’ assistant and treated with deference. I suspect word has already begun to travel amongst the motley of my promotion and your presence with me has been noted. Perhaps you should think of a fitting title to bestow upon yourself? Several come to mind but I doubt you’d wish me share them with the public,” he added with a wink and moved to the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “And we will see the tailor as promised. There will be time, I assure you,” he said as he pressed himself and stalked over to Fraser. Setting his feet behind him, Ozzy bent to kiss his still damp shoulders. “It will be well past the evening bell before I’m called away and I won’t be long I’m sure. As you said, I’m not truly a courtier and I doubt the Crown has any interest in entertaining a grizzled old soldier, no matter how fierce and cunning I may be.”

Ozzy offered Fraser another kiss, this one to the back of his neck before he stepped away. “You still have what you borrowed from Lucan, if you are truly concerned about your attire. You will cause no more stir than Quick when she arrives in riding leathers and corset," he added with a snort as he left Fraser in the bedchamber to finish getting dressed.

As much as he would have preferred to stay and watch, Ozzy knew that any longer in the presence of the naked man would drive him mad with desire. There would be time for ogling, and so much more later.
 
Fraser sighed, feeling the sweet tickle of Osbourne's soft kisses lingering on his skin. After a minute's contemplation, he resumed his refreshing morning bath and got himself dressed for breakfast. He came out to meet Osbourne again, wearing Lucan's finery from yesterday.

"At least I won't feel overdressed if I arrive with you," he sighed resignedly, dusting himself off and picking at minute specks of lint with anxious, meticulous hands. "I do prefer simple togs, but I cannot abide wearing dirty things if I can avoid it, and these are the cleanest I have."

He sat near Osbourne as he laced up his boots, and got distracted by the scroll case nearby, still sitting next to the as yet unexplored tome. He took up the scroll and turned it round and round in his hands, his eyes combing over every detail of the complex-looking artifact.

"Must we go?" he sighed. "I don't know what I could talk about with your friends, and I'm growing quite desperate for some time with this. I can't understand why you aren't remotely as interested as I am in getting inside this."

He glanced up, noticing the suggestive smirk on Osbourne's face. At another point in his life he would have been exasperated, but he'd grown accustomed to this man and his ways, and particularly after last night he was easily softened. He tried to mirror the man's smile.

"Oh, I see - you've been quite preoccupied with thoughts of getting inside something else, haven't you?" he teased.
 
Ozzy laughed at that, replaced the scroll with his hand in Fraser’s and pulled him up as he stood. “It truly is a gift,” Ozzy said, and kissed Fraser’s knuckles before leading him towards the door. “Our visit to the tailor will be a short one and we can satisfy your curiosity once we return. And you needn’t worry about the substance of our breakfast conversation, Quick does well filling the silence. She’ll poke and prod you to be sure, but hold your ground as you did last night and she’ll ease off.”

With that, Ozzy released Fraser to open the door. He lead the way down the stairs and was surprised to find an empty corridor. He’d assumed the Taylor boy would be waiting, but it was no matter, they could find their own way to the parlor.

Unlike the day before most of the tables were occupied with well dressed men and women, Ozzy scanned the room as he moved towards the rear of the to find his designated table. The Bellows’ table was situated on a dais and he moved swiftly to it with Fraser following closely behind. He could feel eyes tracking his progress and did nothing to acknowledge the attention until he noticed a set of hunched shoulders at the end of the bar. It was the only head that did not turn as he and Fraser enter the room. A small smile came to his lips as he came to his own table where his friends waited, along with Jake Taylor.

“Good morning, sirs,” Jake said with a bow at both him and Fraser as he deftly pulled out the last available chairs. “There are egg pies, fresh sausage and pastries to break fast but if you’d prefer…”

“Bring enough for the table, along with the strongest coffee Cookie can muster,” Ozzy instructed with a wave of his hand. He didn’t take his seat, instead leaned on the back of Quick’s chair a moment until Jake excused himself to do his bidding. “The one trying to hide his face at the end of the bar…draped in velvet…”

“Maker’s name,” Quick muttered and slapped a coin on the table. Fletch quickly took it up with a grin. “This one spotted him no sooner than we crossed the threshold. He’s been antsy since we came in...kept glancing at the door. Yelled at one of the serving girls. I got half a mind…”

“In due time Bevin,” Fletch said with a hand on hers a moment before he turned his attention to Ozzy, who made note of how his hand lingered. And the uncharacteristic mention of her given name. “Innkeeper was also by...seemed none too pleased at our presence,” he added with a raised eyebrow and Ozzy only smirked.

“Keep him company for me,” he said with a nod at Fraser as he stood. “I’m to arrange your quarters. Be nice,” he said with hard eyes on Quick before he swept his gaze over to Kemp one last time. “And you needn’t wait for me to dig in.”

With that, Ozzy excused himself, offering Fraser a quick nod before making his way through the back of the parlor through the narrow corridor that led down a short flight of stairs to the Innkeeper’s office. He moved quickly past the attendant posted there and pushed open the door after a cursory knock.

Elric Riley was prepared to berate whomever wished to disturb him unannounced, that is until he saw the hulking figure of Osbourne Clifton filling his doorway. The man offered no pretense, simply stalked over to the desk and took up the ledger, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the Innkeeper.

“There are two rooms available beneath mine,” he said as he flipped through the book, finding the room log before he set it down on top of Elric’s work. “Bevin Maeve will go to the east, Ka’Mau Dejen to the west. Fraser Pryce will share my quarters until he decides to move elsewhere, when he does a room will be made available to him as well. You will ensure the transport of their belongings from their former residences so they may be settled before last bells. The three of them, along with Gideon Vanderveen are to be taken out of rotation and will take their orders directly from me. We five have unfinished business with our last job that can not be disrupted. Am I understood?”

“Understood, but sir...the protocols…”

“Were broken when you intrusted a novice with sensitive information...unguarded no less. Perhaps you have become complacent in your old age? Too much time spent in this cushy suite...perhaps you’ve forgotten the perils of the road,” he said with a raised eyebrow and placed two meaty fists on the desktop. “Did you not wonder what might have happened had the boy met such perils? Of what would become of you had your carelessness been realized? Be glad the boy stumbled into my camp and we were able to wrestle him from the clutches of whily bandits, otherwise there might be another in that plush seat you enjoy. There are no shortage of capable people who would relish the stability...and finances. You best tread lightly Elric Riley or I shall have no choice but to begin the process of selecting your successor. Are we understood?”

All at once Elric Riley realized he had severely miscalculated the abilities of this former guardsmen. He had assumed he would be like all the other brutes who found themselves conscripted into The Order, shortsighted and without finesse. Having issued orders to the man, he should have known better than to think that he would fall for such a sloppy ruse. So blinded by his own ambition, he chose to overlook the man’s mission log littered with black stamps to denote his various successes, disregarded his record with the military. Osbourne Clifton was no simple soldier.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” he said with a forced smile that Osbourne returned but there was very little humor in it.

“Good,” he said with a knock on the desk before he stood upright. “And please, call me Ozzy. I don’t do well with formality.”

Ozzy smiled as he left the room, closing the door behind him. It was one step before he heard glass breaking and let out a chuckle as he made his way back to the parlor to enjoy the company of those he trusted.

The table was laden with still steaming platter when he arrived and took his seat at the head. He placed a quick hand to the back of Fraser’s neck before he turned his eyes to Quick, but his question was for the young man to his right. “Did she behave herself?”
 
Upon Osbourne's departure, Fraser turned his attention squarely upon the meal, not making any attempt to strike up conversation with the pair left with him. Quick put forward a few questions and witty remarks, which Fray answered with polite detachment. Like Fletch, he was mostly interested in tracking the movements of the hooded figure out of the corner of his eye.

To everyone's surprise, that very same figure was suddenly beelining toward their table, not a minute after Osbourne's departure. Fraser straightened. His eyes cut toward Fletch, who was much more alert now yet, unlike the boy, made no visible movement.

"Pardon my intrusion," said the hooded man, bowing politely to Quick and Fletch. "Kemp Jacoby. No doubt you recognize my family name."

Fraser tried not to show too much amusement at Kemp's fruitless and quite embarrassing attempts to impress strangers with his minor noble status. They played along marvellously, and Fraser was fairly certain his half-brother had no idea how much they were humouring him.

After introductions, Kemp glanced back tensely over his shoulder to make sure the Initiator was still absent before turning his attention squarely to Fraser.

"Might I beg a moment of your time, brother?"

This was certainly the politest Kemp had ever been to him. Fraser responded with a small nod and rose from the table, setting down his napkin and giving Quick and Fletch a smile to indicate he wasn't worried. Truly, he wasn't - he didn't intend to move out of their line of sight, and Kemp certainly wouldn't dare to do anything in front of countless witnesses.

He took only half a dozen steps away from the table before stopping and crossing his arms, looking expectantly up at his treacherous half-sibling. "Say what you came to say."

Kemp wrung his hands and attempted to smile. It was an odd, obsequious look for him that only disgusted Fraser.

"My dear brother," Kemp began, "I must extend my deepest apologies. I'd heard there was some... trouble... on the road. I had no idea the journey would be so perilous - surely you know I would never have sent you if I'd known you'd be in such danger."

Fraser stared back at him, his expression neutral. "I'm not sure I do know that," he said softly. "You used to rather enjoy hurting me."

Kemp exhaled hard and once more glanced over his shoulder, looking a little pale. "Please - we were children! We're men now, are we not? I think we've both learned a lot over the years. And one thing I've learned especially keenly of late is how much I cherish you, my brother. One does not know what one has, Fraser, until one is in danger of losing it. We're family - let us not let old mistakes poison what could be a perfectly harmonious relationship. What do you say, brother?"

Fraser looked down at the hand he offered and, after a moment's hesitation, took it and gave it a firm shake. He hoped he looked authentically touched as he met Kemp's gaze.

"I'm very glad to hear you say that. It's about time we made our peace. And I don't suppose after all that I can believe you'd wish me real harm."

Kemp was visibly relieved at this and let go of his hand. "There now. Excellent. Of course."

"If you'll excuse me now, Kemp. I'm sure we'll meet again."

Kemp bowed and said a hasty goodbye before making his exit. Fraser returned to his seat and took a deep drink of the strong coffee. He said nothing until Osbourne returned, asking about Quick.

"She didn't have much of a chance to misbehave," Fraser reported, and lowered his voice. "Guess who came by to say hello while you were gone. And fed me some desperate lines about not wishing me any harm. I let him believe I accepted his dreck."
 
“He did well,” came from Fletch before Ozzy could question anyone further. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy. “Accepted the paltry apology, even shook the offered hand. An excellent show, young mister Pryce,” Fletch said with a raised mug and a nod.

“You get a good look at him,” Ozzy asked and both Quick and Fletch nodded before Ozzy turned to scan the parlor, noticing the man had already gone. “I had hoped he might stay…”

“Not with you lurkin’ about,” Quick said with a snort and Ozzy rolled his eyes. “It’s obvious the idiot has no idea we work for you, else he wouldn’t have introduced himself. Gave his whole name and station...I can’t believe you’re related to such an idiot,” she said, the last to Fraser. “You must get your smarts from your Ma.”

Ozzy chuckled at that as he filled his plate. He took a moment to eat a bit before relaying what transpired with the Innkeeper below. “Pride cometh before the fall,” he said around a mouthful of sausage. Once his mouth was clear he continued with, “You two will have rooms upstairs as promised. When we’ve finished our meal, go home and pack up. I need you both back here to meet Goldie. Doc and I have a few mysteries to solve and an appointment with the tailor before the changing of the guard tonight. While we’re at it, take your time and settle in Fletch, while Quick and Goldie take a tour of the city. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

That was the last they spoke of the plot against them, the rest of the meal was filled with laughter and stories of the road. To her credit, Quick was nothing but polite to Fraser, mentioning more than once that she was glad to have more civilized company for a change. It was clear that the three of them were trying their best to make Fraser feel like he belonged. Even Fletch was uncharacteristically loquacious, offering tales of what it was like to serve under a young Osbourne Clifton. He told the story of the burns the man sported on his neck and shoulder, in graphic detail, having been there to put him out.

Just as they were finishing up, the Innkeeper appeared, brandishing keys for the two new Tenants and assured them that both suites would be ready when their belongings arrived. “Carts await you in the courtyard to assist with you relocation…”

“I have but one bag and you saw it when I arrived,” came from Fletch as he finished the last of his coffee. He turned his attention to Quick then, a small smile on his face as he said, “I offer you my assistance if you’ll allow it.”

“I’ll allow it,” she said with a grin that did not go unnoticed. “We done here bossman? I’ve got bags to pack.”

“Be off with you then,” Ozzy said with a wave of his hand and the two rose hastily from the table. He noted the hand that came to Quick’s back to usher her towards the door before the two disappeared from the parlor. “You as well,” was directed at Elric who still lingered at the table. When he was gone, Ozzy turned his attention to Fraser and offering him a wink before he too pressed back from the table. “Come now Doc, we’ve your fitting to attend.”
 
Fraser succumbed to a few blushing smiles over breakfast at the positive remarks of the others. He didn't consider himself any kind of great actor, but he knew what Kemp responded to. Still, it was nice to get a bit of praise, especially when it went along with an acknowledgement of Kemp's stupidity. He perked up noticeably when Quick remarked on him getting his smarts from his Ma - he couldn't resist grinning and nodding in response.

By the end of the meal he had a warm feeling in his chest, having enjoyed the rollicking old tales of Osbourne's exploits as much as he enjoyed the sense of belonging. He'd never had the privilege of feeling this way before, and he was quickly growing fond of the little group of misfits, brought together by Osbourne Clifton.

As much as he had come to enjoy the company, Fraser was still quite relieved when it was just the two of them again.

"Let's get on with it then," he agreed cheerfully. The sooner they finished the necessary shopping, the sooner they could get back to that very intriguing scroll waiting in their quarters.

"It really has been a surprisingly pleasant morning," he spoke up as soon as they had left the inn and were on the road. "Perhaps they're just being friendly because you expect it of them, but your friends truly have made me feel welcome. Do you suppose they've already guessed, about us?"
 
Ozzy tucked his hands away in his pockets to keep from fondling Fraser as they walked along Gate Way. Unlike the night before, he took the direct route to Pedlar’s Village where his personal tailor’s shop was located. There was no need to be circumspect at the moment so he allowed himself to enjoy the presence of his new lover, and all the questions that came with it.

“If they didn’t like you Doc, they would not pretend. Perhaps Goldie, but only to swindle you. Fletch does not have the ability to spare feelings and Quick has very little desire to. They treat you well because you deserve it, and it would do you well to cease questioning it,” he said with a raised eyebrow as they made their way leisurely through the maze of hawker stalls and artisan shops. All around them was chaos, a cacophony of sounds and smells, but Ozzy had little trouble keeping his attention on Fraser and occasionally offered a hand to his back to keep him from stumbling.

“And I’ve found it best to assume that nothing gets past Fletch. He recognized your brother from your vague resemblance alone and knew that I would be drawn to you the moment we saw you in the clearing. Quick will assume but none will care so we needn’t hide from them, if that is your true question.”

They were at the tailor’s shop by then and being one of the most renowned in the city, he had very little time for small talk. Poor Fraser was shoved this way and that, all the while being asked pressing questions about fabrics and fit. By the end, Ozzy was sure the boy was thoroughly overwhelmed and surprised him with a trip to his favorite sweetshop before they headed back to the Inn, though he wouldn’t allow him to eat any right away.

“You’ll have to earn them,” he said in low tones as they made their way back to the thoroughfare.
 
Fraser was somewhat distracted during their journey processing everything Osbourne had said about his companions' sincerity regarding friendship, as well as their lack of caring when it came to their private relationship. He didn't doubt anything the man said, but it remained challenging for him to accept things that had always been elusive for him.

A pleasant diversion between his thoughts was Osbourne's long, lingering looks that perhaps no one but Fray recognized as suggestive. Many times he felt pleasant tickles in his stomach when Osbourne looked at him, and he realized he was looking forward to returning to their suite to be alone with him just as much as he was looking forward to diving into that scroll and tome.

He was on his best behaviour at the tailor's shop, though he did not at all appreciate all the manhandling that was necessary in the process of getting him measured and fitted. When Osbourne surprised him with the sweets, he grinned like an excited child, though there was nothing childish about Osbourne's tone when he told Fraser he'd have to earn the treats.

"Oh, how do you mean?" he asked innocently, and then smirked briefly to show he understood the entendre. "Did you have some special chores in mind for your able assistant? I suppose we can discuss the details upon our return."
 
“Discuss them we shall,” was Ozzy’s grunting reply with a firm hand on the back of Fraser’s neck as he steered him through the busy market district. Having witnessed him in various stages of undress during the fitting, it took every ounce of willpower in his large body not to drag Fraser into some dark corner and maul him. To aid in their swift return, Ozzy kept a hand on Fraser the whole way back to the Inn, and again lead him toward the rear entrance to avoid the early morning bustle at the Inn. He’d already handed out his orders for the day and had no reason to check in with his guys until the time came. And it seemed he wasn’t the only one interested in finding some time alone with a new flame.

When they arrived on the upper levels, Ozzy wasn’t surprised to see the Taylor boys flanking the lower door to his suite. They both snapped to attention at the sight of him, eliciting a quiet chuckle from Ozzy as he approached.

“I’ve a job for you boys,” he called out and grins spread across two near identical faces. “There’s a trunk at the Clifton Estate I need. You’re to take a cart and retrieve it. Be sure to approach the service gate and ask for Guardsman Temple. Tell him that the young sir has requested his belongings. You’ll also express my wish to sup with my parents, on their own time of course. Once you have done all of this, deliver the trunk to Fletch and ask that he perform a full inspection. After that you may take your leave until second meal. Am I understood?”

Neither boy offered an audible response, just emphatic nods before they ran off to do his bidding. With all under his service busy, Ozzy turned his attention to his assistant with a wry smile as he set key to lock but said nothing until they were safely alone and behind two thoroughly secure, heavily reinforced doors.

He moved swiftly through the receiving area and took up the scroll from the table where he’d left it before breakfast. “I believe you wished to explore this further,” he said, twirling the scroll between his fingers as he eased himself down into one of the plush sofas. His smile unchanged, Ozzy set the bag of sweets in his lap. “Or you can earn these? The choice is yours Doc and I’ll not judge you either way.”
 
Fraser looked between the scroll, the sweets bag, and Osbourne, a bemused smile on his face. It truly was a difficult choice to make. He lowered himself down and cuddled up against the man's side.

"Hmmm," he sighed. He poked at the sweets bag, and then drew his fingers teasingly up Osbourne's thigh. "I know what's in there... and in here."

Then, abruptly, he yanked the scroll case out of the man's hand and grinned up at him almost deviously. "I do not, however, know what's in here. I might just have to satisfy my curiosity before I satisfy you, my lovely man."

He planted a noisy kiss on Osbourne's cheek before settling more comfortably into the soft sofa, reclining with his head on Osbourne's thigh. He turned the strange case around and around in his hands, and gave it a very close examination.

"Reminds me a little bit of this odd little puzzle box my mother used to have," he mused. "It looks solid, but all this complicated scrollwork is likely hiding the seams in the metal. There's a bit of rust here and there, probably keeping whatever's supposed to rotate or slide from moving like it's designed to. Do you have a knife handy?"
 
Even before the words left his lips, Ozzy knew what choice the boy would make. He cursed himself for allowing such a choice in the first place. Served him right for trying to be coy when what he really wanted to do was pin Fraser down right there in the middle of the sitting room. He let out a heavy breath and rolled his eyes at Fraser’s kiss, though he did drape his arm across the boy’s chest as he settled back against his thighs, listening as he mused about the scrolls contents.

“Do I have a knife handy,” he muttered with a raised eyebrow as he lean down to retrieve the pig sticker he kept in his boot. The dagger in his belt was much too large for those delicate fingers and had been a gift from his good friend Averey. He didn’t want to risk it being chipped for anything other than killing, nor did he wish to endure the ridicule that would surely come from the blacksmith if he were to ruin his precious work of art. “Have at it Doc, I’m not one for puzzles,” he said as he rest the blade on Fraser’s chest. “And please be careful. I make the wounds, I don’t heal ‘em.”

With Fraser busy with his puzzle, Ozzy had little choice but to occupy his idle hands. The Tome was the only thing within reach and he reluctantly took it up, resting it on the armrest so as not to disturb his inquisitive lover. He ran his finger over the rough leather cover and exhaled a long slow breath as he flipped it open. The first few pages were blank, it wasn’t until the fifth when columns of the old words began to appear and Ozzy immediately found it odd that it would be used in an official fashion. It had been years, decades even since he saw it written and it took him a few tries to remember the flowy script. The hand that wrote it was precise, without the finesse of the religious text he’d read as a child but still it was a clever code. Not many in the kingdom still spoke the words of the original settlers and even fewer could read it, he found himself wondering why his predecessor would it when there was no guarantee his successor would be able to read it.

It was a fleeting thought of course, there was no way of him learning the truth without knowing who the former Initiator had been. Ozzy resigned himself to ignorance as he began flipping through page after page of the Inn’s inner workings. It read like a ledger with sections dedicated to each tier of involvement, from Tenants all the way down to the Motley. The latter was the least extensive with names and stations along with dates of hire and place of origin. The next section belonged to the Messengers and Ozzy flipped immediately to the last page to find Fraser’s name not listed among them. He wasn’t at all surprised, it was clear from the first time he spoke to Elric that the boy’s mission was off the books. Now he had proof. The Espy were next, the Order’s branch of aristocratic spies. He expected to see a few familiar names but none so familiar as Sir Renfrew Clifton and Carlo Maeve. His own adopted father and Quick’s pirating big brother, Ozzy wondered if she knew. He chose not to dwell on the many questions swirling his mind at the moment and chuckled a little to himself thinking this must be what Fraser felt like on a regular basis. The Executor sections proved for interesting reading. Mission logs of all the bloody work of the Order’s private army. Quick and Fletch were listed here with a symbol beside their names thought arbitrary until he found his own ledger in the Tenant section. A circle with three jagged lines that was oddly similar to the ring he wore on his index finger, the ring he’d had since he was a child at the Temple of Loam in the Idyllwildes.

Even more curious was the entry for his place of origin. “Squall’s Heap, Inselberg.” Ozzy read the words over and over again, baffled at what it might mean.
 
Fraser hummed softly as he worked, an unconscious habit, no tune in particular. He was pleased with the knife - compact, a little rough, but very sturdy and sharp, exactly what he needed. With careful, deft hands, he worked the tip of the knife into the near invisible grooves all over the scroll case, hidden for years by rust, tarnish, and general neglect. Fine russet dust fell as he worked diligently with the knife, and Fraser fussily brushed it off of his shirt and onto the floor now and then.

Soon he had cleaned up the device a fair amount and sat up, setting the blade aside for the moment. He was getting too excited to continue reclining, and now perched at the edge of the sofa, running his hands all over the scroll, occasionally giving it a knock with a tightly clenched fist, trying to get something to move.

"Ooh-!" he exhaled as he felt something give way. A part of the midsection felt like it was about to rotate, but it barely budged. He hopped up to grab a nearby oil lamp, opening it up to access the oil within. He worked a little into what he believed to be the seams of the device, and that did the trick. He crowed with delight as the piece he had been trying to rotate began to move with a light scraping noise. With a few more clever twists, the case suddenly popped open, and Fraser nearly leaped with excitement.

Diving back to the couch, he upended the now open case, and out slid... another scroll case, this time a more traditional-looking one. Wrapped around it was some sort of document, which looked quite aged. With delicate fingers, he unrolled it, and realized there were actually two documents - one of cloth, and another some type of paper, probably papyrus.

"These must be for your eyes only," Fraser whispered reverently as he passed them to Osbourne, though he couldn't resist at least a brief skim in the process. He couldn't make much sense of what he did see, but in any case, his attention quickly shifted back to the inner scroll.

With a rush of oddly minged dismay and glee, Fraser realized the inner scroll was another puzzle. Leaving Osbourne to do the reading for the time being, he studied the device with a furrowed brow, poking and tapping at it for several minutes, sporadically humming or grumbling as he worked.

Finally he relaxed with a sigh, letting the scroll fall to the couch between them.

"I'm stumped," he muttered. "But maybe it's not meant to be figured out. It looks like there's a piece missing. For all I know, there's some artifact buried in some distant abandoned city that's needed to get it open. Any clues in the papers?"
 
Lost in thought, Ozzy vaguely registered Fraser’s movements until the boy flopped down next to him again and passed him the two rolled pages. Both seemed weathered but the bit of frayed linen looked to be from a shirt, the remnants of a straight stitch was still visible along one edge. He brought it to his nose, for reasons he could not begin to explain, and found it smelled of wood smoke and something else. Almost sweet, familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. There were only a few lines of script, again in the old words. Ozzy left Fraser on the sofa to find the cask of wine from the night before and took a long tug before he read the words aloud.

“It says, ‘We have been found. If this reaches you before we do, keep it safe. The child has the key…”

Ozzy tucked the bit of cloth into his pocket with a heavy breath before turning his attention to the papyrus. He immediately recognized the same precise hand as that of his predecessor but was wholly unprepared for what he read. And he could only bring himself to read the salutation aloud.

“To my successor and progeny…”

With the cask in one and the letter in the other, Ozzy found himself pacing as he read his grandfather’s words. Sir Agnar Forseberg I, the former Bellows, had known of him all along and with his letter, he answered all of Osbourne Clifton’s childhood questions. His parents were Agnar Forseberg II and Arusha Kuparr and he was born in Inselberg some 33 years ago. They had not abandoned him, but were murdered on the road by Palumite zealots. He gave no explanation as to how he ended up at the Temple but had used every resource at his disposal to avenge his son and daughter-in-law’s murders. Ozzy himself was presumed lost as well until the messages from the Rever were intercepted by the Wind. He was to remain with the Loamio until he came of age, at which time his grandfather would retrieve him but when he ran away Agnar assumed he’d lost him forever. But still he searched until he was discovered by Carlo Maeve, who had been working to infiltrate a band of slavers. The pirate was to deliver him to Brynsland when he came of age but Ozzy refused, so extreme measures were taken to get him off the ship and into the hands of one who might be willing to persuade him.

His washing ashore on Skree’s Keep was no accident and Sir Renfrew’s presence on the shore that night was not happenstance. The adoption was not a part of the plan but Agnar thought it was better than being an orphan so he allowed the man to continue raising Ozzy as his own. The rest was a history Ozzy already knew but still he read on to discover his grandfather’s pride at the man he’d become on his own. “You earned your place in the Guard, in the Clifton household, in The Wind and the position you now hold within it. Let no one tell you otherwise,” he wrote at the last and Ozzy couldn’t help the grin that came to his lips, even as tears streamed down his face.

“My name is Kira-Na Forseberg,” he said as he regained his seat next to Fraser. Once the letter was neatly rolled and tucked into his pocket, Ozzy began working the ring off his index finger. “I was born 33 years ago to Agnar Forseberg II and Arusha Kuparr in Inselberg. Agnar Forseberg I was my grandfather and the one who nominated me for this position when he discovered Elric Riley’s plot to murder him, as my parents were murdered before him. I was born of love and cherished for as long as they had me. The scroll that stumps you was constructed by my mother when I was a babe, and this is the key,” he said as he took up the wooden scroll and easily found the groove at one end where the ring nestled neatly.

He held it in one hand a moment, simply staring at the intricate carvings of waves and palm trees that ran along its length before he applied gentle pressure with his thumb until a subtle click announced the release of the inner cylinder moments before it dropped into his lap. “It was to be a gift for my 18th birthday...the story of my birth.”
 
Fraser perched tensely on the edge of the sofa while Osbourne paced, obviously deeply affected by what he was reading. When he sat down again and began to speak, Fraser hugged his arm and barely dared to breathe.

He'd heard only scattered snippets of Osbourne's murky background, but he didn't have to know anything at all to see how much these messages meant to the man. Fraser reached up to blot a tear with his knuckle and followed with a kiss to his damp cheek. He tried to imagine spending his whole life not knowing who his parents were and couldn't manage it. He had no frame of reference for how Osbourne was feeling.

But it would get better still. Fraser watched in awe as Osbourne revealed his ring as the missing piece of the puzzle he had been trying to figure out. Fray might have been frustrated with himself for not figuring out that the ring was the key - he had noticed it a few times, and its unusual design - but he was too captivated by the emotions coming off of Osbourne and his hunger to find out what more they were about to learn about his background.

"This is everything you've been looking for, isn't it?" he whispered reverently. "Just a few years late. Open it up, my love."

He cuddled closer, trying to tuck himself into the crook of Osbourne's massive arm.
 
“Funny I stopped looking about the time I met Sir Renfrew,” Ozzy chuckled as he lifted his arm to accommodate the boy against his body. “Guess, deep down, I knew I’d find my answers here.” Ozzy cleared his throat, lean back against the sofa, before he began to read the story of his parents...of his birth.

A tale of secret love and prophecies that rivaled any of the books he and Quick read on her brother’s ship when they were young. His father, a lightbearer in the High Order of Palume had fallen madly in love with a young maiden while on mission in the tropical south. At the time, Agnar Forseberg was betrothed to the high priest’s daughter and sent to establish a new ministry in Saphaerius. His passion for The Light Path drew the attention of many but none more than Arusha Kuparr. “I’d never seen hair so blonde or eyes so light, the color of sea foam,” Ozzy read with a grin, knowing for certain that his own icy blue eyes came from his father and according to his predecessor, he had the man’s face as well. His ruddy hair must have come from his mother, along with his broad chest and shoulders for she described her future husband as “tall and thin with long delicate fingers and a voice too quiet for a man of his stature.”

“Men of my village were known for their strength and girth, so I made it my mission to feed the priest as often as I was allowed,” he continued with his mother’s words. “I wished not to fall in love, only to fatten him up but my mother always told me that the way to a man’s heart is through his belly. Who knew that my famous paella would do both,” Ozzy read with a laugh before explaining the seafood and rice dish to Fraser. “It’s a Saphaerian delicacy and every village has its own recipe...handed down from mother to daughter. I wish she said where she was born...I spent time there when I was with the pirates. I may have met a distant relative...may have eaten my own families’ recipe,” he said shaking his head a moment before he continued on.

The next several paragraphs were in a different hand and voice, and Ozzy assumed both belonged to his father. The words were direct and lacked the emotion of his mother’s account but still he expressed his immediate infatuation with the young fisherman’s daughter. “She smiled so much and her laugh was catching, so much so that I assumed she might be the village simpleton. She corrected me immediately and we spent many nights sparring over our various beliefs. And though I was able to win her over, she refused full conversion. She said there was room in her heart for all Maker’s children, for refusing any would refuse all, and I could not fault her logic. Even if it forced me to question my own path. She challenged me like no one else and when it came time for me to depart, I found myself unable to leave her behind. Such a mind would be wasted...Sure it was her mind alright,” Ozzy said with a sceptical laugh.

Agnar went on to tell of how he convinced the young Saphaerian to join him on the long journey back to the frigid north. She’d never seen snow before, or mountains, the prospect of seeing both had Arusha ready to pack her bags. Her stay was not to be permanent, she was to return after completing the Rites of Palume and her induction into the ranks of Lightbearers across Boudineer. “A year, two at most” turned to three and the two very quickly became inseparable, much to the chagrin of Agnar’s betrothed. Threatened by their closeness, she greeted Arusha with harsh words and sordid rumors,which did nothing but draw the two closer together.

But still they kept their relationship proper as they spread Palumite teachings across Boudineer. They were on a mission to Boscage when Agnar received word that his impending nuptials had been called off and that his betrothed was expecting a child with another. “The Child of Light,” the letter said, the subject Palumite prophecies from the old world. A child, born at the apex of a lunar eclipse that would bring great change to the Kingdom.

“Now free of obligation, I made my feelings known to Arusha but she would not have me. She could not trust that my emotions were pure, having developed while I was sworn to another. For weeks she would not see or speak to me, it wasn’t until our journey back to Inselberg that she began to relent. Huddled together through a blizzard on the ice fields made it impossible for her to ignore me, and the close quarters only served to melt her to me. We became one on that last trip and were wed in secret at the Temple of Altru some months later, completely unaware that you were already with us…”

“I knew,” came in his mother’s hand, and Ozzy snorted, wiped a few tears before he continued. “It was assumed that I’d caught a chill on our journey but there was no fever and my appetite did not wane. But still I kept you a secret until I could not any longer. I knew the suspicion that would befall us and wished not tarnish our family with rumors and speculation. You’re coming early helped very little, with strong lungs and chubby cheeks, and at the height of the eclipse. I gave birth to you in darkness, with only your father to assist, for fear of what his former betrothed and her father might do. We hid away in the mountains for weeks in the hopes that we might convince them you were born later, but you bore markings that could not be denied. Twice they tried to steal you away before we fled.

“And so here we are, having renounced our Rites and hidden away in a tiny village just south of the Wailing Mounds, but I for one have never been happier...but for how long,” Ozzy asked as he ran his fingers over the last lines of his parents’ letter. “There is no date. I have no way of knowing how long they lived in such peace...how old I may have been when they had to flee again. All these answers but still so many questions...questions I now have the means to find answers. And I will find answers,” Ozzy said as gently rolled the letter from his parents and reset it in it’s scroll. The lock immediately engaged when he removed his ring. “I will take all this to the Clifton Estate for safekeeping and we will discuss all he knows over scotch. He is the first step in unravelling these mysteries and I’ll need your help Doc. You possess a clarity that I find enviable and I’ll need you to keep me,” he said before pressing himself up from the sofa and taking up the cask again. And the sweets. “For now, I’d like a distraction...from all of this.”
 
Fraser settled snugly in against Osbourne, excited to learn all about his background. He remained rapt throughout the whole tale, even though love stories weren't usually of any interest to him. This was a love story that resulted in the man he was cuddled up with right now, who had changed everything for him.

He didn't voice it aloud, knowing Osbourne wouldn't want to hear something from him that sounded like he was being down on himself, but Fraser couldn't help wondering if being "born of love", as Osbourne had put it, was what made the man the very lovable person he was in all the ways Fray fell short. Perhaps his own conception, the result of an isolated, emotionless event - for his mother, a reluctant means to an end, and for his father, an ill-considered abuse of power - had been to blame for how Fraser had turned out. He'd always felt so far removed from other humans - too much head, and not enough heart.

Osbourne had heart to spare, and plenty more besides.

Fraser looked up with surprise as the man rose and requested a distraction.

"Really - now?"

He stood up and took one of Osbourne's large hands with both of his smaller ones. "I'm here for whatever you need. But I'm surprised you can think about anything other than what you just read."

He lifted the hand he'd been holding and pressed Osbourne's palm against his cheek affectionately.
 
“Ruminating on it will not change it Doc,” was Ozzy’s answer as he slipped his hand around the back of Fraser’s neck and pulled him in as the other slipped around his back. “If I’m honest, I wish to think of something...anything else. It was almost better believing I’d been abandoned,” Ozzy said before releasing Fraser and stepping away from him to pace again. “All my life I’ve been pursued...all 33 years of it. Least I’m not as old as I thought,” he said with a snort as he meandered over to the kingdom map that adorned the northern wall of his suite.

It wasn’t the first he’d seen but never so large and with such detail. The capital of each realm was represented by a walled city adorned with it’s name in gilded script. The kingdom road was a thick black line that bisected Boudineer, skirting the border of Boscage and Elysia before crossing the river Ernot and continuing on to Wheelholm. From there it turned south to split the Idyllwildes, before crossing into Ausveld where it forked. The north road ran toward Tjalsland and the Northern Garrison while the south road connected the Southern Garrison and Pierland to the rest of the kingdom. The road touched every point on the map except one and Ozzy’s eyes were drawn to it.

“Why would they not come straight to Brynsland,” he muttered to himself as he drew a line with eyes from his birthplace to what had become his home. “Why venture so far west when safety was only a few days ride? ‘The Forsebergs are adventurers at heart’... Agnar the first said so. So perhaps the second wished to forge his own path or feared those at the Temple Palume might intercept him…Fears that turned out to be warranted. And without knowing the time of year, direct passage across the river might have been more perilous than the road. There had to be a reason...why put your wife and child in danger for something so frivolous...in less they sought passage through Wheelholm, crossing the dam into the Idyllwildes and took up the road there?”

Ozzy took a deep breath then, drew his hands up to lace fingers together behind his head with his elbow point out to the side. His eyes still on the map, he chuckled a little and said, “Perhaps you’re right Doc. This is much too intriguing to put aside, even for something as delightful as your touch.”

He turned to face the boy then, reached out to take his hand and pulled him close. “I was born here,” he said reaching up to lay two fingers on a village nestled between two mountian ranges. “The High Temple of Palume is here,” he said moving his fingers to rest atop Squall’s Peak. “They must have gone back, at least for a time, before venturing south...but they gave no clues to where. Their journey ended somewhere in here,” he said, drawing a circle around the sparse villages just outside the Wailing Mounds. “There are but three villages, and I’d put up my finest blade that we settled in the one with no name. It’s furthest from the road, but two days of hard riding due west would bring you right to the Idyllwildes...and the High Temple of Loam. I must go back, I’ve no choice…”
 
Fraser leaned against his comforting side and joined him in studying the map. Although it had been by his own encouragement that Osbourne had moved his focus back to his parents and the mystery of his origins instead of going to bed with him, Fray was actually disappointed, but he quickly shuffled the disappointment aside. Solving a mystery was a different sort of pleasure, and so was being supportive to his lover. He hadn't had someone he could look after since he'd rescued a kitten as a child. In this case he'd been the rescued kitten, but the relationship with Osbourne had turned out to be wonderfully reciprocal.

"Of course you must go," he agreed. "We must go. I'll be by your side always, for what it's worth. What's an assistant for, after all?"

He smiled and pushed up onto his toes to kiss Osbourne's cheek.

"Will it be difficult to step away from your responsibilities here?"
 
"Of course you must go," he agreed. "We must go. I'll be by your side always, for what it's worth. What's an assistant for, after all?"

Ozzy smiled at that and leaned into the kiss as his hand slipped down to grip Fraser’s backside.

"Will it be difficult to step away from your responsibilities here?"

“I’ll not go anywhere until your brother and Elric have been dealt with. I don’t think you’re ready for another ambush yet. In due time, though,” he said and dipped his head down to press against Fraser’s curls. “Quick’ll train you up,” came as he slipped his hand into Fraser’s, lacing their fingers together. “I’ll not have you on the road again until that’s done so consider it you’re first order of business. You’ll arrange it while I’m away tonight,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he turned to face the smaller man and brought a hand to rest under Fraser’s delicate chin. “You’ll have to get used to talking to people without me Doc...that’s part of being a good assistant, too. And yes, she’ll give you a harder time than most but it’s for your own good. If she gets too rough, just give her a little of what you gave me on the road,” he offered with a smirk as his hand slipped around to grip the back of Fraser’s neck.

Ozzy stoop down a bit, brushed their noses together before he pressed his lips against Fraser’s. “Thank you. I surely wouldn’t have figured how to get into that scroll without you. If not for you, I would never have found the truth of my parentage, and for that I will be forever grateful. And as a token of my gratitude, I’ll allow you one sweet...free of obligation,” he said shifting his eyes over to the waxed bag where he left it on the table.
 
Fraser leaned back and arched an eyebrow dramatically, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I see - I prove useful for some little task, and you toss me a treat? As if 'assistant' weren't demeaning enough - now I'm your dog? Well, I have one thing to say to that, sir!"

With a huff he turned his back to Osbourne and glanced back over his shoulder. An impish smirk curved up one corner of his mouth, and he wiggled his bottom back and forth as if wagging an invisible tail.

"Woof," he declared before bouncing over to the table and plunging his hand into the bag. He took out a soft toffee and chewed it with glee. How strange it was to feel so like a child and so like a grown man at the same time. He hadn't quite felt like a child even when he was one, and Osbourne occasionally brought out these facets of himself that he'd never known were there. Perhaps he just hadn't had enough opportunities to relax and enjoy himself until now.

He stepped up to Osbourne and hugged him around his middle, once more reaching way up to claim a kiss, giving the big man a taste of sugar.

"You know... there's a lot about myself I don't know if I'd have discovered if not for you."
 
He hadn’t meant to offend him, but Osbourne was wholly prepared to apologize, even took a step to console him before Fraser turned back smirking. His eyes went immediately to that wagging tail and his tongue came out to wet his lips as Fraser gleefully consumed his treat.

“Is that right,” Ozzy asked with a grin as he shift his eyes down to meet Fraser’s before stepping out of the boy’s embrace. He held his gaze as he took measured steps backward toward the sofa. “Perhaps you might be willing to show a little gratitude of your own,” he said as he made a show of undoing his belt and trousers before he sat. With one booted foot, Ozzy pushed the coffee table away then stretched his legs out long before him.

Ozzy slipped his hand into his pants then, threw his other arm over the back of the couch as he settled into the center. His eyes locked with Fraser’s, he gently worked his half hard cock free of his pants and smiled. “I admit it’s more salty than sweet but you seemed to enjoy this treat well enough last night.”
 
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