Chapter 59

Kestrel saw the broken bodies the moment he stepped through the threshold of Aris’ estate. He had expected that. What he hadn’t expected to see though was Corrine, Aris’ wife, standing at the steps of her house, looking for all the world like some stern but benevolent dictator as she ordered the now silent mob around like they were her own children.

The soldiers obeyed her every command.

“You, be silent!” she commanded one of the mob who hadn’t had enough of his protesting despite the flames. He shouted once more but was quickly silenced by the hateful looks of his peers.

“Good. Now, Nellum, you will oversee tending to the injured. You will house them in the barracks and you will personally make sure every single one of them is cared for.”

Nellum, a lanky red haired soldier, nodded and took a squad of six men and began gathering those who had been trampled and injured during the ruckus and escorting them to the guards barracks.

“Kestrel,” she said, noticing him entering. “You will go inside and help Sephira and the twins gather every spare piece of cloth we have and make sure they are boiled. We’re going to have a lot of work to do.”

Kestrel saluted her, falling into the new guard custom despite himself. He broke through the now silent crowd and let out a thankful smile as he passed the stern woman.

She didn’t bother to look at him as he strode past her.

There was much more that needed to be done. She needed to get everything under control before Aris, whom she was sure had already heard of the small riot, made his way back to the house. He already had enough trouble. He didn’t need any more. Especially when she could fix the situation.

Kestrel listened to Corrine’s commands echoing through the hallways as he made his way to Aris’ kitchens. He was greeted by a wave of steam as he stepped through the opened doorway. The head cook was commanding the room like a general, giant pots were being filled with water from the small mountain stream that ran along the edge of the Ravenscroft estate.

The twins were huddled in a small corner of the kitchen tasked with tearing the linens into bandage sized strips. The furrowed brows and steady hands of the two young girls indicated that they took their job seriously.

Kestrel stepped up to the head cook, a burly woman who looked like she had mothered a bear. She gave a small nod of acknowledgement to him and reached down and grasped a large wooden paddle which she handed to him. “Go there with Sephira and help her put the linen strips in the boiling water, then help her pull them out once they’re sufficiently clean with this,” she tapped the paddle he held in his hand.

Kestrel nodded and strode over to where Sephira stood, breathtaking with sweat glistening down her stunning form from standing over the steaming pots. He wished he could stop to take in the sight of the raven haired beauty, but the moment she caught sight of him and saw the half step he made as he took the sight of her in, she grimaced and nodded to him, ignoring his foolish blushing, “get over here quick, we have a lot to do.”

Kestrel obeyed her and pushed the paddle into the large pot, mixing the linens until he was satisfied that they had been sufficiently cleaned, then he, along with Sephira, began pulling the strips from the boiling mixture and hanging them to cool.

In minutes, a cook came and replaced the pot with a new one, just beginning to bubble. Kestrel and Sephira repeated the process. They did it over and over until the movement became rote.

“What if this was my life?” Kestrel thought as he toiled by Sephira’s side, occasionally stealing a glance at her captivating face. “What if I could spend every day like this. Just absorbed in some sort of menial task, never needing to worry about magic, fires, or fearing having my throat slit while I slept. What if this could really be my life?”

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

“Kestrel, that’s the last of it,” Sephira’s words brought him back to reality, he hadn’t noticed that he’d zoned out. “Auntie Corrine said that that should be enough. We made more than we need. Now she wants us to go and help bandage the wounds. She did tell me to tell you to be careful though, she knows you were on top of the gate when that first rioter was killed. Some people might have bad feelings towards you, but she expects you to deal with it.”

Sephira’s aunt Corrine still surprised Kestrel. How had she known that he was guarding the gate? Hadn’t she been inside the house when everything had happened?

When a woman wanted to know something, they were terrifying in their ability to root out the truth.

He was frightened that one of these days, she might hunt him down to get the truth out of him about the world of magic he’d so carelessly dragged her husband and niece into. What could he do with that? The thought of staring into her steely eyes as she sized him up made him shudder.

He was glad for the distraction her command brought him, he didn’t relish her finding him, cornering him and forcing him to explain what happened. He’d seen the look in his squad leaders eyes as he passed them on the way to the barracks. He was terrified of letting Aris Ravenscroft down, but Corrine’s rebukes had been harsh enough to make him wither underneath them and he was firmer than the mountains that towered above them.

A sense of hopelessness overwhelmed Kestrel when he stepped into the barracks. The air was heavy with a feeling of lostness. The crowds who had just been fighting so recently had had the wind taken out of their sails, and now all the fury that they had turned towards Aris had shifted. It morphed into fear. Fear at what to do next. Fear at being homeless, without money, or a hope of a future.

Kestrel knew that feeling well. He had lived in that apprehension for years. He was born into that fear. His mother had numbed herself to that disquiet with narcotics. She had became so numb to the world that losing Kestrel to the streets had mattered nothing to her.

Kestrel had seen her once before she died. Her ribs jutted out like sickly limbs of dead trees. Her withered, broken form wore the barely-there clothes of a street prostitute. She had been so taken by the drugs and whatever venlarial diseases she’d contracted due to her trade that she hadn’t even recognized him.

That was his last memory of her.

He had lived in the fear that the crowd were now wallowing in, but seeing his mother so wasted by the disquiet, unable to take care of herself as the drugs and diseases took her body, had made him swear to himself that he would never give in to that same terror.

He may always feel it, but he would rise above it.

He wouldn’t ever be like his mother.

Kestrel plopped the large basket of linens down on the ground and began wiping and dressing the wounds of the nearest person, a young girl that couldn’t have been more than ten years old. At first she’d withered at his touch, but calmed when Sephira came by his side and assured the girl that she’d be safe and feel better soon.

“Does this hurt?” Kestrel asked as he probed a large purpling bruise.

Tears welled in the girls eyes as she nodded a ‘yes.’

“You’re really brave do you know that?” Kestrel said, calming the girl. “Once I had a bruise like this, but it hurt me so much I laid in bed for days. I couldn’t move at all. But look at you. You can move already. You’re stronger than I’ll ever be,” he grabbed the girl by the hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

A look of pride changed the young girl’s tear covered face bringing a bright smile with it.

“I bet it hurts a lot, but you’re strong and brave,” Kestrel said, the young girl softened at his warm tone. “It’s going to hurt a little more, but I’m going to put some cream on it that will help you heal faster, okay?”

The blonde child nodded, her tears drying up.

Kestrel took some of Elfbark cream that his fellow guardsmen used to treat their training injuries and lifted the young girls shirt enough to rub in the healing balm over the large bruise that spread over the side of her ribcage like the image of a rancid purpling lake.

She flinched under his touch, but he spread the balm with the care of a healer and soon he’d covered the large bruise and began wrapping the wound with the linens he’d helped clean to keep the girl from moving too much and further injuring her bruised side.

“When did you find time to train under a healer?” Sephira asked as they moved to the next person.

“What do you mean?”

“You calmed the girl down and took care of her wound with ease. How did you do that?”

“You were the one that calmed her down Sephira,” he responded to her question.

“Not really. I barely helped. The rest was you,” she said.

There was something in Sephira’s eyes as she said that. Was it admiration?

Kestrel didn’t know. But he did know that he would gladly spend a lifetime doing whatever it took to see that look in her eyes if only for one more time.