Raesh pulled the cork with his mouth as Mannat stared at him. He shot it across the table and asked, “You think you would have understood going overboard for love a few years ago?” It was not a question. Raesh poured himself a pint, downed it in a gulp, and scowled. It tasted like spicy piss water.

“I thought you gave up drinking?”

“You want to hear the story or not?”

Mannat opened his mouth to speak, then attentively closed it. He picked up the chair, set it upright, and sat back with his back straight.

The liquor might taste like shit, but it did bring the story out of Raesh. He downed another pint, and then dived right into it, as his stomach grew warm.

“A few years ago you would have called us stupid for giving up a good life and settling in the backwaters of this god-forsaken region. You would have been right and created faults between your mother and me. At least you would have made our minds full of thoughts like you always do.”

“Was I that bad?” Mannat mumbled.

Raesh smirked and flicked the top of the cup, causing it to sing sharply. He said, “One time you asked me to stop hurting your mother at night. You were three years old then.”

Mannat’s ears glow red like the sun was shining through them, and Raesh had a heart full laugh. His laughter was contagious. Mannat couldn’t hold himself back and joined him. Mannat noticed his father’s wrinkles softening, but he didn’t point it out and enjoyed the burning wave of heat growing inside his chest. It put the cold to rest, and he liked it very much.

It took them some time to quiet down. By then Mannat was no longer sulking and Raesh had closed the bottle. Raesh and Gande had talked about lightening the boy’s mood, he was happy to have accomplished the feat.

Suddenly, Mannat looked at Raesh with glowing eyes and said, “I want to hear it.”

“Hmm… What do you want to hear?” Raesh said taking a sip of the little liquor left in his cup. Perhaps, it was the ale or he was drunk, but he was starting to like the heat flowing from his stomach.

“Your story,” Mannat reminded. Raesh slammed the cup back down on the table, his face bitter. He was starting to doubt the decision he’d made when sober, but those eager green eyes made him soft. The boy really had his mother’s eyes. Both could tear his resistance without speaking a word.

“Alright, but first I have to tell you about the capital—“

Mannat didn’t let him. “Capital city Rajpur, known for its splendor and wide cobbled roads, where even the commoners have lavish lifestyles. While other cities exports various goods and raw materials, the capital city exports kings coins. There are more merchants in the capital city than there are people. There are no farms surrounding it, but hundreds of silos full of grains that can keep the capital standing for years in case of a famine. It’s also called the city of gold because of the gold mines nearby. Gold there is cheaper than iron and even the beggars don’t want it.”

Mannat finished the summary and pumped his chin to Raesh, gesturing, ‘your turn’.

“Not bad,” Raesh said. “There were some exaggerations, like the thing about the beggars,”

“They do like gold, don’t they?” Mannat said in understanding, only to be surprised by his father.

“There are no beggars in the capital city. Whoever told you about the city was probably being sarcastic. They were most likely using the term for the commoners.”

“OH…”

“Did the witch teach you this?”

“No.” Mannat shook his head. Steady. “I read it in a book.”

This time it was Raesh’s turn to be surprised. He knew books, and the exaggerated amount of silver and gold they went for. Some books were so special that there were considered national treasures, like the book of history, dictated by the late King Abdul Jaffar Suleiman himself. It was more than three thousand years old, and one of the, if not the oldest surviving record of the past. It was stored in the royal treasury and was for royal eyes only.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Raesh coughed lightly to hide his emotional change. So the Witch had books and she was letting his boy touch and read them… The more he thought about it, the higher his heartbeat rose. Would another drink help? He still needed to tell the boy his story, and he had to be sober for that. Groaning, he saw no other option and slapped his face.

“Father, what are you doing?” Raesh heard but ignored the worried voice. His cheeks stung a little and his mind started to react to the pain, forgetting about other things. Yes, this was it.

There was a possibility of his freaking out if he knew the Witch had let Mannat borrow a book. He was blissful in his ignorance.

Clearing his throat, Raesh started the story. “Your grandfather or your mother’s father was once one of the five greatest blacksmiths in the capital. He was the closest one to become the next royal blacksmith, about fifteen years ago.”

He paused to let the knowledge sink in. However, it did toll his spirit to think about the past. The liquor wasn’t much help; it aggravated the pain instead. Nostalgia can be mentally exhausting, especially for people like Raesh who have relatively high physical prowess, but barely any mental resistance. Age and experience were his only help against it.

He expected a few questions from the boy, but didn’t expect him to ask, “I have a grandfather?”

“You never questioned it?” Raesh found it unbelievable. Mannat, as a child had more questions than he knew words. He must have asked about his grandparent at some point in life. Raesh thought so. Apparently, Mannat never did.

Raesh was appalled. “You asked so many questions, but never asked about our parents. It’s amazing that even you didn’t find it strange. I guess you are also human.”

“Actually,” Mannat said holding a shy smile on his face. “I thought they were dead like everyone else’s grandparents. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to hurt either of you. Later in life, I was too busy to have such free thoughts.”

“That’s so,” Raesh said shaking his head. A boy worrying about his parent’s feelings… this child was too special. No wonder even someone like the Witch took a liking to him.

“Okay, where was I?” Raesh said. He pulled the chair closer to the table and sat straight on the chair. It was about time he got serious about this. “First thing you need to know about your mother's parents is that they were rich, very rich. Your grandfather had a smithy that was bigger than the village center and your mother lived in a villa with a great garden surrounding it.”

Raesh paused to let the boy speak, but Mannat had nothing to say. So Raesh continued where he’d left off.

“A large team of servants worked in the villa gardening the over twenty acres of land, cooking for just under one hundred people, and cleaning the large over thirty bedroom villa.”

“Thirty bedrooms and hundred servants feel like a waste of labor.” Raesh couldn’t figure whether to cry or laugh. The boy was unfazed by the extravagant life his mother had lived, but couldn’t digest his slight exaggeration… How was he supposed to react to him?

Seeing that the boy was waiting for him to continue, Raesh sighed. Good thing he stopped drinking midway.

“My mother, who was also your grandparent, was a maid in Noor’s family home and served the high madam, Noor’s mother. You can say that they were friends.”

Mannat’s mind flashed some thoughts and Raesh got all his concentration.

“What kind of person was my grandmother?” Mannat asked and Raesh’s eyes trembled slightly.

“She was… kind... and very hard working and had the sweetest voice I have ever heard.” He said solemnly. He didn’t explain more and Mannat didn’t ask. He respected his father’s silence.

“I was only a couple of years old when my mother got the job, and Noor was also just a little kid then. It goes to say we played together a lot.”

“You were childhood friend?”

“That’s right.” Raesh nodded.

“Then what happened?”