Lark had just turned three years old, and he had still not spoken a word to his father. He knew this wasn’t fair to his father, but he still had trouble trusting him, even though Lark had put together what must have happened during his stay with Arin. His father had sent him to a wet nurse for his first year, as he had no way to feed him. He had no way of knowing that his mercenary friend would react like that, and Melissa had vouched for Arin’s wife.

Yet still, even knowing all that, he struggled to forgive his father for that year of torture. Lark was never a forgiving person, and even less so trusting. Still, though, he was trying his best. It was just taking a while. One could not live on spite alone. Well, that didn’t mean that Lark wouldn’t try, but he was willing to look into other avenues as well.

Lark observed his father take care of the morning chores in the little lodge they called home. They were a fair distance from his old village, Which was the reason his father could only visit once every couple of weeks back at the wet nurse.

He was sweeping with a straw broom, and humming a gentle tune. He saw Lark looking at him and went to go pick him up.

“How you doing big guy? Do you need anything?” Lark tried to say something back, but it was as if there was an invisible barrier preventing him from speaking. The feeling where you want to do something with every fiber of your being, but you just… can’t.

Lark’s father never took it personally. He would just smile and go back to his day, but Lark could tell that his silence was concerning him.

Henry went back to his chores and made a soup for Lark to eat. Speaking of which, that was a factor Lark was concerned about. Tangentially, at least. His teeth had come in… weird this time. They were… sharper? His nails started coming a little pointy as well. Nothing too out of the ordinary, and easily missed from an outside perspective. Lark had not missed the changes, and to call him concerned would be an understatement.

‘I swear, I’m going to be so pissed if I actually am a demon.’

He was brought out of his negative thoughts by his father giving him his breakfast. Henry had carved him a little wooden spoon for him to eat and teethe with… again. Okay, so maybe Lark’s teeth were a little weirder than he let on. I mean, is getting two sets of baby teeth that weird? Yes? Moving on, then.

“Oh, it seems we're running low on herbs. Do you wanna go with your old man to go pick up some goods?”

I nodded, more to confirm that I was going to follow along willingly than anything. I was going with him no matter what, as Henry was serious when he said I’d be sticking with him.

After breakfast, his father picked him up and put him in his traveling outfit. A simple tunic and cloth trousers. The most interesting part of the outfit was the cloth blindfold that he was forced to wear when he went out. His father set Lark on his shoulders and set off to his stables. There his father got his mare, Leila, ready to ride. She was a chestnut… something breed. Lark was not overly familiar with horse breeds. Or familiar at all, for that matter.

Once she was ready, Henry put Lark in his lap and set off.

The trip to the city was not a long one, it was only about an hour away. The village Lark was raised in was much farther, taking two weeks to reach on horseback. Apparently, Lark’s father was about as trusting as he was, if the only friend he had was so many miles away. Emphasis on ‘had’.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

After a scenic couple hours of riding on a path through a forest, they finally reached the ‘city’. More a sprawl of buildings placed haphazardly in the area surrounding the king’s castle.

Getting through the walls was a breeze, as usual, and the guards showed deference to Father as he passed through the portcullis. Lark was unbearably curious at this point, but he still couldn’t get through his mental barrier. How could a man be this respected, to the point of being treated like a noble, and still live in a hut in the middle of the woods. It just didn’t compute for Lark.

At the market, Henry walked up to his favorite merchant.

“Henry! It’s been a while! How's the little guy doing?” The merchant said.

“He’s doing well,” Henry said with a genuine smile “He’s been walking around more, and you know how kids are, their always getting into something” He finished with a light laugh.

“That I do, that I do. Why my little girl just-” At that point, Lark tuned out the conversation and started looking around the market. It was set on a wide street, with vendors all shouting their goods. Carts passed through the street, parting the sea of pedestrians, and on occasion stopping to buy some textiles or other miscellaneous goods.

As he was looking around the market looking for entertainment, Lark thought he saw someone he recognized, but he couldn’t tell for sure. The blindfold he was wearing was made of thin cloth, so seeing shapes was easy, especially in the daytime, but seeing any amount of detail was impossible. Lark tapped his father’s shoulder and pointed at who he saw, but by the time his father turned around, they were already gone.

After the shopping trip, they headed home, and Henry made supper. It was a simple fare, just a hearty stew with bread taken from their storage.

After dinner, his father picked up his bow, quiver, knife, and short sword, and went for a little evening hunting. Lark was no history buff, but he did remember that back in medieval times, hunting was typically reserved for nobles, and swords were expensive, like stupidly expensive. Lark didn’t know what was going on with his father, but he certainly suspected that he was more important than his means suggested.

After about two hours, Lark’s father came home with a deer carcass. It was already drained of blood, and its viscera had been removed even before that. It was one of the first things Lark’s father showed him how to do, even if his wittle baby arms didn’t let him practice, yet. With nothing better to do, little Lark watched his father dismantle the dear, and salt some of the meat. The rest went to the smoker, where a lot of it was later sold. Most people around here just ate lamb, cow, and other domesticated animals, but variety is the spice of life, so no one complained about a little venison at the market.

Finally, Lark was put to bed by his father, given a little kiss on the forehead, and tucked in. Lark could tell that Henry loved him to death, but he didn’t know what he would think if it turned out his little angel, or little devil in this case, was a fully grown man with trust issues. Taking a wild guess, Lark assumed it wouldn’t be a great reaction.

As he was drifting off to dreamland, he heard a noise from his father’s bedroom. He carefully got out of his bed, and as stealthy as a baby could, snuck up to his father’s room.

There, Lark could see him on his knees. He had his hands put together and started to pray.

“Dear Lord, please bless my child. Despite how he may look, I know he has a good soul. Please bless his days with joy and happiness, and even if he should never speak, make his needs clear, so I may take care of him, and finally repay him for all the joy he has brought me. Amen”

‘Goddamn it, why do you have to be so fucking sympathetic. You’re making me feel like a real piece of shit over here.’ Lark thought.

Lark gathered his courage and tried to break through the barrier preventing him from truly trusting his father. And failed. So he tried again, and again, and again, standing at the door for over ten minutes, until finally…

“D - Da - Da - Dad” Lark managed to get out.

His father turned around, astonished.

“Thank you, lord.” His father said with reverence.

‘Okay, I don’t love ‘the Lord’ getting credit for my breakthrough, but I suppose it’s fine this time.’

“Devon, can you say mama for me?.”

Ugh, Lark hated his new name.

“Mam - ma- mama” Lark managed to get out. Who would have guessed that not talking, ever, would make it difficult?

That made him tear up.

“Ya hear that, Helen? He called you Mama. I know you’re up in heaven right now complaining that he said Dad first, though.” His father laughed lightly, teary-eyed.

“Now, let’s get you to bed, little man. If you're finally up for talking, you should be ready to listen. It’s time for you to learn! First, though, sleep well.” His father finished while putting him back into bed.