This is, in a way, a support conversation between Brady and Miriel. It depends heavily on Brady and Maribelle's support conversation; although this fic should still be understandable even if you haven't seen or read that conversation, I would recommend doing so first.

Proper Diction

"Yo, Miriel!"

Miriel groaned and looked up from her vials towards the entrance of her tent. Her vision resolved on the young man standing there: Brady, the son of Maribelle. How peculiar. He was one of the children with whom she had had very few interactions. For what reason would he want to converse with her—especially in the middle of her experimentation? She was familiar with her reputation of having a disagreeable temper when her experiments were interrupted—indeed, she embraced such a reputation. So what was so urgent that he would brave a tirade by one of the fiercest women in the army?

Brady timidly approached the scientist. "Hey, Miriel. Can I talk to ya a moment?"

"On what subject?" Miriel asked coldly.

"Talkin' 'bout how I talk. I'm sure ya know about Ma an' how she always wants me t' speak with proper grammar an' all that jazz, and… Well, I guess I oughta try an' make her happy fer once. And ya gotta be aware of your own reputation of speakin' with big fancy words, Miriel. That's why I came to you. Would you mind helpin' a poor guy out?"

Miriel carefully set down the vial of half-made potion she was still holding. She looked at the young man. "You are requesting my assistance in training your elocution? You must understand that I am not a lenient teacher."

"That's exactly why I came to you," Brady said. "If anyone can get me t' speak like a proper noble, it's you, ain't it?"

"I suppose your conjecture holds merit. Well, then, shall we begin?" She grabbed his arm and sat him down on a stool.

Brady let out a cry of protest. "What? Right now?"

"Indeed. You wish to speak in a manner that would please your mother, am I not correct? In consideration of your… current standards of diction, I have concluded that you require a great deal of practice. Thus, we must begin your lessons as soon as possible."

"All right, let's get started then. But don't think that I didn't notice your jab at my current way of speakin'. Just 'cause I can't speak all proper-like and stuff doesn't mean I can't understand it!"

Miriel frowned at the lack of an antecedent for the pronoun 'it,' but elected not to raise objections at this moment. "My statement was not intended to offend, but merely to provide an observation. Still, you have an awful habit of losing your G's at the end of gerunds and present participles. Perhaps we ought to correct that first."

"Jerry and present party-animals? What're ya blabbin' on about? I'm not all that familiar wi' fancy terms like that; ya might wanna define those words."

Miriel groaned. "To speak properly, one must have a firm grasp of grammar, and as an extension of that, one must clearly know the terminology of grammar." She paused in thought. "Hold a moment. I believe I have a volume that should ameliorate the situation. Stay seated while I search for it." Swiftly, the mage got up from her chair and made her way to the back of the tent, where many of her bookshelves were located.

Brady, suddenly alone with Miriel's experiments, started to feel uncomfortable. He turned towards the potion that she had been trying to make—it was a dull blue liquid with bubbles fizzing off of it. The bubbles made the potion look like it was about to explode or something. Cautiously, he backed away from the table it was situated on. He didn't want to get caught in an explosion—and he also didn't want Miriel on his case about messing up with her experiments.

But of course, he wasn't looking at where his stool was moving at. He slammed ungracefully into a low bookshelf, causing the whole structure to topple awkwardly onto him, shelves and books flying everywhere.

Miriel appeared next to him as if by teleportation. "Brady! What a uncoordinated bumpkin you are!" she exclaimed. "I left you unaccompanied for mere seconds, and already you have irreversibly increased the entropy of my bookshelf!"

"I didn't mean to!" Brady tried to protest, but Miriel ignored him.

"I don't believe that I can entrust this book to you, Brady," Miriel said, holding up a thin book. "You are far too maladroit to keep such a precious text in a respectable condition. Kindly leave my sight and do not return for further tutoring."

"But we didn't even start—!"

"Leave. Now," Miriel stated, pointing towards the entrance of the tent.

At hearing the mage's dangerous tone of voice, Brady all but ran out of the tent. Miriel stared coldly at him until he was entirely out of view before she righted the bookshelf and slowly reorganized the books.

A few days later, Miriel was returning from Laurent's tent when she saw a young man sitting just outside a tent, reading something in the last few hours of daylight. Recognizing both the book and the man, she asked in alarm, "Brady, whence did you acquire that book?"

The priest looked up in surprise from the book he was reading. "Huh? Oh, hi, Miriel. Yer askin' 'bout this book I'm readin'? I got it from Robin's library. Don't worry, it ain't—ahem, isn't—yours; I just saw the title of the book you were holding when I left your tent the other day: Proper Diction: A Beginner's Guide."

"And you made the effort to locate it? Wherefore, may I ask?"

Brady frowned. "Where? I just told ya. It's Robin's—"

"Wherefore means why."

Brady blinked at this new information. "Oh, I told ya already why. Ma's always on my case 'bout my grammar, and I gotta live up to her standards, ya know?"

"Her opinion is of such great importance to you?"

"Not that, but I just… uh… it's just that…"

"Denial does not alter reality. You indeed cherish your mother far more than you would like to admit."

"Fine! I just wanna impress her. I mean, I lost her already in the future, and I don't feel like I ever lived up to what she wanted me to be."

"Interesting. You feel a lack of closure, as you were unable to fulfill your mother's desires. As such, you wish to rectify the situation by carrying the wishes out to your newly discovered parallel-universe mother."

Brady stared at the mage for a moment before sighing. "Yeah. Ya got all that right."

Miriel sighed and sat down next to the priest. "Brady, I suppose I owe an apology for the other day. I was overcome with anger and frustration when I discovered that you overturned my bookshelf, and I was not thinking rationally. Although I do not forgive you for toppling it, I do not believe I have the right to withhold your tutorage for that reason."

"So… you're sayin' you'll help me with my speakin'?"

"Indeed," Miriel said grudgingly. "Nonetheless, I remain resolute in my decision to interdict your entrance into my tent of residence. We shall meet instead here at your tent."

"Thanks a bunch, Miriel!" Brady cried out, giving her a big hug. "Oh, but don't tell Ma anything 'bout this; it's supposed t'be a surprise."

Miriel immediately pushed herself away from him. "Ahem, you have my word. Now, I shall see you tomorrow to begin your tutorage. Goodbye." Miriel stalked away, leaving Brady with Robin's copy of Proper Diction: A Beginner's Guide.

Miriel stepped into Brady's tent the next day and announced herself, but stumbled across a huddled figure on the ground, sniveling. It didn't take long for her to recognize the crying man.

"Brady, arrest this lachrymose display at once! What happenstance may have caused such a lugubrious reaction?"

"Mi… Miriel?" Brady asked, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. "What… what're you…?"

"Yesterday, I affirmed that I would report to your tent today to assist you in your quest to speak at the standards of your mother, and thus I was obligated to come."

"Ha, diction!" Brady all but spat out. "I give up it."

"Oh? But you were so enthused about it yesterday."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I changed my mind!"

"Maybe, but I highly doubt such an egregious alteration in opinion would arise unbidden. You were extremely eager to commence your studies yesterday; there must have been an occurrence to cause your current denial."

Brady sighed, and both the mage and the priest were silent for a moment. Finally, Brady took a deep breath and said, "Look, Ma all but said that she'd given up on me an' my big mouth. She caught me readin' that book I got from Robin, an' she told me it was meant for really young children, and then she just up an' walked out on me."

"Indeed? That does not agree with my observation of Maribelle. She often insists that we Shepherds act more proper and noble, and she is extremely persistent with her attempts to alter our habits to match her ideals. But to abandon her own son—that seems extremely unlike my current conception of her character."

At Miriel's words, Brady burst into a new wave of tears. "Yer sayin' that my grammar's so bad that even Ma, who ya say is usually all stubborn-like, is givin' up on me? Well… Then, why did you even wanna give me this book if you knew it was for seven-year-olds? Couldn't you've given up on me, too? Maybe ya should've!"

Miriel took a exhaled deeply. She decided that she must act in a manner with which she was unfamiliar in order to ameliorate the situation: she must comfort Brady. She knelt down to him and spoke. "Brady, permit me to clarify. Your mother was likely frustrated with your inability to speak with proper diction, certainly, but it is highly improbable that she has abandoned her attempts to change you. She is likely searching for an alternate solution to remedy your speaking issue. All people absorb information most efficiently through different methods. The book I gave you was intended to be consumed by young children, but it was necessary to start from the basics of grammar. I expected you to finish it quickly. However, perhaps your ideal method of learning is not through books, as I had surmised. Perhaps an oral lesson would not be remiss."

Brady wiped his eyes and looked over at the mage. "Are ya sayin' I still have a chance to impress Ma?"

"Certainly, Brady." Miriel extended her hand. "Come, now. We ought to commence our lesson, but the ground is an unsuitable location. I offer you my assistance if you cannot rise by your own means."

"Thanks, Miriel," Brady said, taking her hand. She led him over to a table with two stool set up in front of it. They both sat down, and Brady set down Proper Diction: A Beginner's Guide on the table.

"May you summarize the contents of this volume to me?" Miriel asked. "I must assess your current aptitude in order to best formulate a plan to teach you most efficiently to speak at the level you and your mother desire."

About a week later, Brady was in his tent, browsing through the manual that Miriel had graciously allowed him to borrow. The flap of his tent opened, slightly blinding him with the bright daylight.

"Brady? Are you presently located in your tent?"

"Miriel?" Brady asked. "Have you arrived?"

"Indeed. I have arrived to continue your lesson to speak properly."

"Oh. Unfortunately, I bear some unpleasant information that I am obligated to relay to you."

"Is that so?" Miriel asked, taking a seat next to Brady. "Please elaborate."

"First, I ought to thank you dearly for taking the time to attempt to improve my manner of speaking. It has meant a lot to me that you, who I know usually have a number of experiments to run and science to discover, have willingly offered your time up for a creepy priest like me. However, I must say that I must hereby terminate my tutorage."

Miriel raised an eyebrow in shock. "Oh? For what reason?"

"Mother and I have discussed the matter of…" Brady trailed off suddenly, and turned to face Miriel with a serious expression. He spoke again, this time abandoning his affected noble diction. "Gah! I can't keep talkin' like this! Ma and I've decided that it ain't important what exactly my talkin' is like. And it's not like I can keep on speakin' this way for long. And also…"—here, Brady took a deep breath—"Additionally, Ma expressed her deep satisfaction and great pride that I made the effort to please her, whether or not my attempt was successful. Though I may continue to make the effort to… Though I might try to keep speakin' all proper-like, I dunno if there's much point anymore. I feel so much better that I made Ma proud, even if I still can't speak all that great. But I've accepted that. Again, I thank you so much, Miriel, but it just ain't workin' for me."

"Are you absolutely certain about your decision?" Miriel asked.

Brady nodded resolutely.

"Then alas, I ought to depart. Though I must say, I enjoyed tutoring you. Observing your growth and learning over this past week provided me great pleasure." She stood up and made a motion to walk towards the tent flap. Before she could move, however, Brady grabbed her wrist gently and placed the book he had borrowed in her hand.

"This book is yours."

Miriel merely shook her head and gave the book back to Brady. "I hereby bestow this book unto you. Consider it a gift between friends, or so to speak."

Brady was so surprised that Miriel would willingly give up her own book that he didn't resist when Miriel extricated herself from his grip and walked away.

But just before she left the tent, Brady called out, "Yo, Miriel!"

The mage turned around. "Yes?"

"We'll still see each other around, right?"

Miriel smiled. "Most certainly, Brady. I shall look forward to our next encounter. But in the meantime, to borrow an expression of yours… I'm'a make like pants and split."

With those words, she stalked out of the tent and closed the flap.

Published November 9, 2013