Corrin and Wyn washed off in the river after the tournament rather than the bathhouse. The hot water was nice, but every now and then, a dip in the cold water which flowed past Straetum was just far better. After washing, they made plans to meet up at the festival and went their separate ways, each heading to their respective homes. They would both have to get changed into proper clothes before the festival, as the battle-ready tunics they wore weren’t appropriate for such an occasion. Festivals like this one were special events, and just about everyone, from the children, to the elderly would be dressing up.

The orphanage was really just a wing of the church, jutting out the side towards the back, with a side door leading into it. He opened the door and walked inside, noticing that the room was suspiciously empty. It was dim inside, as the lanterns hadn’t yet been lit, the only light coming from the setting sun’s rays seeping in through the window. The many beds were lined up in a row, some made neatly with sheets tucked in, while others were left unruly and disheveled; they’d be in trouble with Fenfreth for that later. There were too many children and not enough rooms, so the younger ones had to share a larger room between them.

He heard something shift slightly in the rafters before dropping down towards him with a yell: “Surprise attack!”

Could he have dodged it? Certainly, but that would spoil the fun. Instead, he let out a cry of feigned shock as his younger brother Ezra came crashing down on top of him, “knocking” him to the floor. Like rats from the floorboards, four of his other siblings came rushing from their hiding places.

He tried valiantly to fight off the vicious assault, tossing them mercilessly onto nearby beds and knocking them away with the deadly pillow he’d somehow managed to grab, all the while laughing maniacally and taunting them for their weakness. If he let them win too easily, it wouldn’t be as fun for them, or for him if he was honest. Nonetheless they eventually wore him down and he toppled to the ground, ‘defeated’.

“Alright alright, you guys win!” He laughed, holding up his hands in a sign of surrender, eliciting a cheer and looks of pride on the faces of his younger siblings as they high fived each other and gloated.

“See? I told you it would work,” Ezra, was telling Sarah, their bespectacled sister who was the same age of twelve. As the oldest children of the younger group, the two fought more often than not.

Case in point, Sarah pouted slightly, “Yeah but what if you’d fallen before he’d shown up? Or missed? Then it would’ve ruined the whole plan and you’d have gotten us all in trouble."

Corrin just smiled as they argued. He wasn’t one to get on their cases about such a stunt, even if he should, only the spirits and Wyn knew the kind of stupidity he’d gotten up to at their age. That said… “You guys shouldn’t be fighting in your festival robes,” he chastised them.

Them being a little stupid about injuries wouldn’t fall on him, but the wrath of the old man would definitely come his way for roughing them up in their only nice clothes.

“It was James’ idea!” Sarah quickly deflected, pointing to the youngest brother, who was only four.

“You expect me to believe that?” Corrin laughed louder, “James can barely talk, let alone plan a dastardly attack like that!”

“D-dastan-dastardly?” Sarah sounded it out, “What does that mean?”

“Ask the old man later, I’m sure he’ll tell you,” Corrin said as he got up and walked to his bedroom, a small room adjacent to the main area. He grabbed his clothes from above the headboard of his bed before closing the door to change. He’d bought a new light blue set of robes for the summer. The sleeves were shorter than was traditional, cut just below the elbows, and the material was lighter with a swirling white design patterned onto it. It was quite stylish from what he’d heard. But more importantly, it was more casual than the heavier, traditional robes his siblings were wearing, so he’d stay nice and cool, while also being able to move. Some of the older townsfolk might scoff a little at them, but the robes were still perfectly acceptable for the festival.

After tying the final rope around his waist, he left his room and walked out. At this rate he might actually be early to meet with Wyn for once.

“Ah, there you are Corrin,” Fenfreth said from the door leading to the outside. “Would you mind helping me carry some firewood back? I realized we’re out, and I’ll need it later tonight. I’m sure you’ll be busy after the festival, so I’d rather bother you about it now.”

Sorry Wyn, but it’s not my fault this time.

“Yeah, I can help.” It was only fair, he was still living here for free, helping out with chores like this was the least he could do.

They left the church and walked a short way to a nearby grove. Several wood cutters from the town maintained it year-round so that wood could be safely gathered without going too far from the village. It was common knowledge that dangerous beasts roamed the countryside, and since there wasn’t a large enough force of guards in the town to accompany the woodcutters, this was the solution they’d come to: a small, cultivated forest where most of the wood in Straetum was produced.

Fenfreth nodded politely to the guards as they walked past, approaching the area where bulks of firewood were prepared for the families and buildings in town. The guards smiled back and ushered them on.

“Just grab that bundle over there for me Corrin,” Fenfreth asked.

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Corrin obliged, grabbing a roll of sticks and small logs that had been tied together and carrying them against his chest. They’d get some chips and dirt on his robes, but he’d just brush it off later, they were just clothes, no matter what some people seemed to think.

“Thank you, my boy,” the old man said.

“No problem gramps. Let’s get this back and then I’m meeting up with Wyn. You sure you don’t need me to take any more?”

“That will be fine for now, we can get more tomorrow.”

They left, thanking the guards before making their way back to the church.

“Are we really going to have fireworks this year?” Corrin asked. “I bet you’d know.”

Fenfreth smirked, “Sorry Corrin, you’ll have to wait and find out like everybody else. Just because I’m on the committee doesn’t mean I’m going to spoil the surprises.”

Corrin looked up at the slowly darkening sky. “I hope we do… it’d be nice to have something exciting like that.”

“You really need to stop making that face,” Fenfreth said.

“What face? I’m not making a face.”

“Yes, you are. It’s this one,” Fenfreth’s features softened, and his eyes gazed off into the distance, like he’d remembered a family member that had long since passed. “Is everything alright Corrin?”

“Everything’s fine. I don’t know why you think I’m making a face,” Corrin laughed, shaking his head.

“Corrin… Have I ever told you where I was born?”

Corrin’s head wheeled around to see Fenfreth looking at him with a searching expression. There was no way! He thought about it, and while Fenfreth had never implied he was from somewhere else, he’d never said he wasn’t either—The old man’s face soon cracked though, and Fenfreth let out a barking laugh.

“Just kidding, just kidding! You thought I was going to say something crazy like Ord, didn’t you? Oh, the look on your face…”

“Stupid geezer,” Corrin grumbled.

Fenfreth’s face softened, and his gaze grew a bit deeper, “I’m sorry to disappoint. I was born and raised right here in this town, and I’ve stayed here the whole time. Well, I’ve been to a few of the nearby villages, but I’ve never left the plateau. It’s been almost seventy long years in this place now, and I’ve been grateful for each one. Do you know how old I was when I took over the church?”

“I don’t know… thirty-five?” Corrin said. He couldn’t even imagine Fenfreth as a young man. The image of his wrinkly face and white hair was far too stuck in his mind. “Why does it matter?”

“I was twenty years old,” Fenfreth said fondly, “I know I love to brag about how much I love my blessing, and how useful it is. But did you know that I could speak with spirits before I could even talk to humans?”

“What? That doesn’t even make any sense,” Corrin said.

“Blessings are truly odd things, aren’t they? It scared me at first, so for years I tried to ignore the voices, and I didn’t speak to them at all. But then, when I was only—” Fenfreth paused for a long moment as he seemed to realize something, a chuckle broke through his lips.

“Is everything alright?” Corrin asked.

Fenfreth’s laugh grew louder and louder, until he had to hold up a hand for Corrin to stop.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing nothing, it’s just, I was going to tell you a whole big story,” Fenfreth laughed, “About how I came to want to be a priest in the first place. I was going to tie it all back into the point I was making, like this was some sort of sermon. Seriously, who do I think I’m talking to?”

Corrin frowned, “And what point were you making exactly?”

Fenfreth’s laughter slowly died down, until only a slight smile remained on his face. He placed a hand on Corrin’s shoulder. “Corrin. I want you to answer me honestly. Are you happy?”

“What…?”

“It’s a simple question, isn’t it? Guarding the tomb, living in Straetum, your life as it is right now. Does it make you happy?”

“Yes, of course it—”

“Corrin. Since the day you showed up on the doorstep of the church, I’ve raised you like my own son. I’ve watched you laugh; I’ve watched you cry, get angry, get hurt… I’ve seen you grow into a fine young man. When you were younger, you had that dream, right? Going to Taravast and becoming a knight. When you talked about it, you’d always get this look in your eyes, like you were just so… happy to be alive. But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that. So, well, let me ask a better question then: Are you satisfied?”

A stick fell from the bundle to the ground, clattering softly in the dirt.

“No… I’m not.”

“There’s something you want to do isn’t there? Something you’re not doing right now?”

The bundle fell from his grasp.

“There is.”

Fenfreth patted his shoulder, “I think you should reach for that dream Corrin. Reach for it with everything you have. Oftentimes, even if you fail, you’ll end up better than how you started.”

“But what if doing what I want means leaving everything behind?” Corrin asked. Wyn, his siblings… it was too much.

Fenfreth shrugged. “There’s no such thing as the perfect life Corrin, you’re always going to have something you must sacrifice. I know you aren’t the type to listen to me Corrin, but if you forget everything else I’ve ever said to you, remember these words: You only get one life here. Don’t live it halfway in fear of making the wrong decision. You can never make the right decision. That doesn’t exist. You can only ever make the decision right. When you’re old like me, don’t have any regrets.”

He pulled Corrin into a hug, “Do what you want to do Corrin. No matter what it is, I will always be proud of you.”

Corrin couldn’t respond, he simply watched as Fenfreth let him go, and then turned to leave.

“I’ve said all I wanted to say. I trust you to handle the rest. You’re an adult now after all aren’t you? Oh, and Corrin? Please pick up the sticks, I really do need those later.”

“Fenfreth,” Corrin said.

“Yes, my boy?”

“Thanks.”

Fenfreth chuckled and walked away, leaving Corrin to stand there alone.

His shoulders began to shake, and the dirt at his feet began to moisten.

Huh? What’s happening?

He wiped his face, and his sleeve came away wet. His breath came in uneven bursts, while a strange sound crawled out of his throat, but it wasn’t sobbing, it was laughter, hysterical laughter. Corrin put his hand on his forehead, fingers running through his hair while he tried to calm down. But like a child trying to hold back tears, his body just wouldn’t listen.

He choked on each gasp of air as his vision blurred.

Do what you want to do Corrin.

It was so, so obvious. Yet somehow, he’d forgotten. He laughed and cried, relief flooding his system like water breaking through a dam. Eventually, the breaths began to come easier, and his vision returned to normal. He breathed in deeply, collecting himself, and the air itself seemed to be fresher, the world taking on more vivid colors.

“It was simple the whole time wasn’t it,” he said to himself. It wasn’t easy, but it was simple.

Bending down, Corrin gathered up the fallen sticks to carry them back to the church. He’d be out late tonight, there was something important he needed to do, so Fenfreth really would need the wood to start up a fire. Once he’d dropped them off, he’d go and enjoy the festival to the absolute fullest he could.

After all, it was the last time he’d get to enjoy the one at Straetum. The next time he was at a festival, it was going to be a hell of a lot bigger.