“Henric. Artair. Adles,” each word landed like a hammer blow. His mother never raised her voice, but each name dripped with fear, anger, and hurt.

“I…,” she started, then stopped. Her gaze flicked over him, in the healer’s bed, and she seemed to loose what she was about to say. With a sigh she sat on the stool the brother had vacated, and stared at him.

“I am angry, disappointed and embarrassed,” she continued after taking a moment to consider her words.

At the words Adles looked down to stare at his lap.

“Look at me,” she said in a gentile voice dragging his attention back. “I did my best to make sure you did not know what was happening here. I wanted to keep you from worrying about matters outside your control. Clearly, I failed. I never expected you to do this, or that you might put a friend in harms way.”

The words hurt, but the sight of her eyes starting to water made Adles’ stomach clench. The silence dragged on as she fought to keep her expression under control.

“Alese,” a large hand rested on his mother’s shoulder. “The warriors need to speak to you. Let me talk to the boy for a bit.”

Adles tore his attention away from his mother’s face to look at his grandfather standing behind her. He could not remember the last time he saw his grandfather leave the house. He barely leaves his room…

His mother turned to look at her father and her control over her expression slipped. She quickly schooled her expression, but Adles could not miss the glare she gave him.

His grandfather removed his hand from her shoulder, but otherwise ignored the glare.

Turning back to Adles she stood and bent over to kiss him on the top of his head. “I love you and I am happy you are safe. But we will speak more on this later.”

Adles felt a drop of water land on top of his head, but could not catch her expression as she had already turned her back to him.

“The healer said he needs rest, and I expect you will make sure he gets it,” her voice was soft, but he could not miss the anger in her next words. “He listens to you.”

His mother then walked out the door without another word. Adles saw a pair of highlanders fall instep behind her through the open doorway. The view was then blocked by his grandfather, who sat heavily on the stool with a groan.

“She was very worried, and she rightly blames me for this,” he said shaking his head. “She has not been this angry with me since…” he trailed off and his eyes lost focus for a moment. He cleared his throat. “It is a hard thing to have a daughter furious with you.”

“Do not look so upset boy,” his grandfather said with a soft smile. “As mad as she is with us, she is more mad at herself for being proud.”

Adles stared at him confused. “What?”

His grandfather laughed at his expression. “The warriors of the clans are never shy about saying what they see. They have seen the heir of our house risk his life to destroy monsters threatening our people. They are impressed by your bravery, and they make the fact known. My daughter is a loving mother, but she is also a woman of the clans. It is hard for her not to feel pride hearing her son talked about in this way. To make matters worse for her, there is not one of them who does not refer to you as the Laird.”

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“Imagine how she feels every time she overhears them talk about you that way. Every time they talk about the courage to the young Laird, or how proud they are of their Laird. The clans have never fully accepted your father and likely never will,” he sighed when he noticed Adles wince. “I know lad. He is a good man, but he is not from the clans. They like him more than they will let on, but your mother is an Adles. She is the one they look to. But now they are looking to you, and she is as proud as she is scared by how seriously they treat you having the messer.”

“Which reminds me. This is yours,” he said placing the sheathed messer on the bed beside Adles. “I knew you would grow into this, but I did not expect it to be so soon.”

“What is it? You look like you swallowed something sour,” he asked looked at Adles.

“I do not deserve it,” he blurted out, then lowered his voice when he realized how loud his voice was. “I do not deserve any praise. Orn killed all the spiders. I lost the sword before I even got to draw it. If it had not been for him, I would be dead. All I did was lead him into a trap.” Adles could not meet his grandfather’s eyes, he did not want to see the disappointment he knew he would find there. Instead he stared as this hands slowly clenching and unclenching.

“Is that so?” His grandfather asked calmly. “Did you know, Bruce Othar died before he made the walls when he charged Old Saphire? He never killed a single one of the tyrant’s men, did not even get close to them. But the bards remember how he led the charge. My great uncle Klein died fighting a band of raiders from over the spine. I told you that, but I guess I should have added that he was killed in an ambush while tracking the same war band. I doubt he ever got the sword out of its sheath either. Are you saying they did not deserve it?”

“They are different.” Adles muttered.

“No, lad they are not,” his grandfather replied gently. “There was a threat to our people and they lead the charge against it. Castle walls, war bands or monsters in mines, it does not matter. That sword is a symbol of the one who protects the clan. You heard of a threat and took it into your own hands to end it. I will not lie, and tell you, you made the right choices. But I can say you deserve that sword as much as any one who carried it before you.”

Adles wanted to believe what his grandfather was telling him, but it felt as if he was claiming credit for an accomplishment that was not his. “But, Orn is the one who actually killed the monsters.”

“I am not saying he did not. But, I am telling you he is here because you brought him here. For both the good and the bad, he came with you into the mine. You led this charge. Now you deal with the results. As a commander you get glory for winning and an obligation to recognize the actions of those who went with you.”

He paused to let Adles wrestle with what he said. “I will admit, you do have one difference from most of the sword’s previous bearers,” Adles looked up to see his grandfather smiling at him. “You are still alive. That means you can learn from your mistakes. Most only take up the cause of the clans once, and nearly all die in the attempt. How about you tell me exactly what happened, and we can talk about what you can do to start a new tradition. One of living to see your victories?”