The warband, just as it had the first time, shattered into pieces when the walls of Verbosc became visible. Ferron, once again, left his ward in the care of the Guerros Matriarch. The warrior could not even remain in a city that was a stronghold of his allies without worry that he would be hounded by his more esteemed cousin.
His goodbye to the boy was brief and without word of his planned whereabouts. He placed a hand on Valentin’s shoulder, told him to ‘study hard’, and took his horse out of the city and, perhaps, out of the realm as well.
Respite was not in Valentin’s future. Instead of allowing him time to settle and rest, the emerald woman met her nephew at the entrance to the estate and escorted him away from the imposing environs of her urban estate and into the streets of the Aranelle Quarter. Their departure was a conspicuous one, allowing for a pair of armored guards to shadow the pair on their adventure.
Their tour of the streets was a short one. A cafe on a side street only a couple minutes away from the estate was Yvonne’s chosen refuge for the pair. They sat inside the building, bribing the proprietor with several eagles to clear out any other patrons and allow for a steady flow of drinks and snacks to arrive at the pair’s table.
To celebrate Valentin’s safe return, Yvonne purchased him some bainne milis. The sweet dairy drink was the first childish present that he has drank in some time. He felt bizarrely enthused by the confection in a way that felt almost foreign to him. Regardless of the internal feelings within, he drank the beverage with appreciation.
Before Yvonne could speak to the boy, a tray of unordered pastries came steaming towards the table. While the matriarch had given that offering in an attempt for some level of privacy, her bid combined with her easily recognizable appearance garnered her more attention than expected. The owners of the establishment took great pains in delivering their highest quality of baked goods and sweet drink with the hopes that the affluent woman would speak their names in more auspicious settings.
The aromas of the food wafted into Valentin’s nose and made his mouth water. While the food he ate while campaigning was agreeable, the meals were basic and bland. Not including the victory feast, this was the nicest fare he had in some time.
He sheepishly reached towards one of the morsels arrayed between them. Seeing the boy made the woman soften a bit and thank the owner for the delivery.
While the meal itself was delicious, Valentin could not help but feel that the atmosphere at the table was off. While his aunt smiled at him and sampled some of the bread, she sat with a tensed posture and shot furtive glances outside where her guards were waiting.
“Is something the matter, Aunt Yvonne?” Valentin asked between bites. “Are you expecting someone?”
“In truth, Valentin, I took you out here to avoid being at the estate for a while,” she admitted. “A visitor that I find grating will be in my home until the evening. I have left it to Allaine to handle matters for me, his temperament is more suited to a guest of this type.”
Valentin was sympathetic to the woman’s reasons. There were many times that he would like to run away and avoid people he found unpleasant to be around. Perhaps it was a trait of the clan to have such a disposition. If true, it would make Valentin feel much better about acting in such a fashion in the future.
“Being the Matriarch isn’t easy,” Valentin remarked, wiping some crumbs off of his mouth.
The Marshal of Verbosc cackled at her nephew’s observation. “Some days I wish that I never tried so hard to earn the title, but most days I am glad that I have my position.”
Her eyes shimmered in thought for a moment before returning her attention to Valentin. “Enough about me. You’re the one who went on a campaign. Tell me all about it! It’s not like we have anywhere to be anytime soon.”
Valentin began his story awkwardly. He constantly over explained details while forgetting others until they were no longer relevant and stopping the story to cover them. However, once he got further into the story and more comfortable sharing with his aunt, the tale came forward more smoothly. He spoke of the battles at Etrineux, at his brush with death, and, most importantly to the boy, Ferron’s bloodless capture of the city.
The boy made sure to omit the parts pertaining to his consumption. He was uncertain if his aunt was aware of Ferron’s plans and erred on the side of caution. He equally did not wish to speak of Morna at all and removed mention of her in any capacity except to give her the credit for saving his life.
Yvonne, for her part, actively listened to the boy’s story. Her reactions and appropriately timed questions allowed her nephew to gain the confidence necessary to tell the story in a way that would do it justice.
“It sounds like you were no bystander in this conflict,” Yvonne complimented the boy. “Though I am surprised that Ferron had you bloody your blade so early. I was convinced that he would allow you to observe this time.”
“Was your first kill difficult, Aunt Yvonne?” Valentin asked.
The woman made a pensive face as she plotted her answer. “It was and it wasn’t. I think that the first time taking a life requires much willpower. I remember shaking terribly when I had my blade raised above my head. At the same time, my father offered me a criminal guilty of heinous crimes. It allowed me to feel no guilt in my efforts, I still do not pity the scum.”
The morbid topic of conversation stood in stark contrast to the colorful food on beautifully decorated plates and cups. If one were to observe from the outside, they would assume that the pair were having a delightful discussion on positive things as opposed to a conversation on execution.
“In fact,” Yvonne continued after eating another bite. “I felt some glee in the fact I was eliminating such a terrible person. I could take my frustrations out on them without worry of doing ill. Yet that joy caused a fear that kept me away from the executioner’s block until battling under Ferron showed me the true nature of that violent beast.”
“Is such a creature living within me as well? Will I one day have the same reputation as you and Gilles?” Valentin asked, almost hoping that such a confident bloodlust would grow inside him to make his future acts that much easier to stomach.
Yvonne gently placed her hand atop his and the boy fought his urge to recoil. “Do not dwell on such a thing, you are better served without it. Besides, you are the one living closest to the clan’s motto and principles out of all of us.”
“What is the clan’s motto?” Valentin asked, full of curiosity.
Clan mottos were a newer development amongst the nobility in the higher echelons of Strettian society. It was but one more way for those at the top to try to distinguish themselves from their peers. He knew that Tiarna Lunoult had been entertaining the idea of adding a motto to his clan, but had not found one that satisfied him.
Yvonne sighed, “It is a crass motto compared to our contemporaries. Enlightenment through Domination. It was a declaration to the other clans by Father after he established his river fort. He wished to state his intent that he was returning to the ways of our origins by dominating the region through force. He forced his clan to be the eternal aggressor in all things we do. Now that we are a growing mercantile clan, our motto has taken a slightly different connotation that is no less troublesome.”
“Can you not change it if it is so bothersome?” Valentin asked.
“It would not be difficult at all to change the motto. However, it would give our clan contemporaries an opportunity to look down their noses at us. It would not do at all,” Yvonne explained, only further proving to Valentin how inexperienced he was with such subjects.
“Besides,” Yvonne continued with a wry grin. “If things go as Ferron plans, our motto will quickly become relevant again.”
With that, the contented pair departed from the establishment with their bellies full of all the types of bread that would ever exist upon this mortal plane. If they were to lose horrendously in their future endeavors, then there were worse conditions to die in. They were reclaimed by their guards and ushered back through the streets of the city and towards the palace of northern Verbosc.
The guards led the way into his clan’s gilded halls. The stress that the boy had felt during his first stay here had blinded him to all of the details that were held in this building. The interior rivaled that of more provincial tiarnas, everything from the paint to the fabric to the metal inlays were managed with great and regular maintenance. The elk motif persisted within, taking a major role upon the tapestries. Stone carvings of elk rearing on their hind legs lined the walls at regular intervals.
“Were those statues always here?” Valentin asked, mostly to himself.
“No,” his aunt answered. “They are a new installment. I have two larger ones commissioned for the front gate but they will not be ready for some time.”
Those inside addressed his aunt as ‘Matriarch’ but offered the boy curious glances before providing the same courtesy to the younger party. He was in the colors of their patron clan but had only been seen once before by only a handful of people. At this point, such wordless speculation had become a natural occurrence for the boy. He no longer gave such muted mutterings much thought as there was never anything he could do to discourage such things.
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At the end of the parade of greetings sat a dining area. Around a large table covered in steaming food, several people supped on the meal and conversed with one another. Yvonne’s face looked relieved, implying to Valentin that the unwanted guest was no longer present. The spot at the end of the table was vacant and the presence of its owner was made known to the dining party.
“Love,” an older man in a deep blue cloak that Valentin recognized as Allaine greeted. “Where have you been? You were so late that we were forced to eat without you.”
“Matriarch,” most of the other diners said in greeting.
“We may have spent more time than I expected at a wonderful shop that sells marvelous breads only a few streets over,” the woman admitted almost impishly. “I regret to inform you that our appetites are already satisfied.”
“You should have more than just bread for a meal,” Allaine chastised. “Come, at least have a drink and idle some time away with your clan.”
While an animated conversation began to erupt at the dining area, Valentin nursed a gazpacho made from the vegetables of the early harvest. It was the only thing at the table that his bloated stomach could manage after his doughy adventure with the Matriarch. He had already mentally retreated from the dinner, not interested in making small talk with any strangers today. He hoped that his temperament made him unapproachable but did not want to appear hostile or ungrateful towards his hosts.
He sat occupied with his own thoughts, none of which were particularly profound. All his observational skills were spent looking for an opportune moment to depart, to be by himself for a time. It had been some time since he had been given solitude and longed to sleep in a bed of his own without worry of another person.
An opportunity did not arrive, the meal had only just begun when Valentin and his aunt had arrived. Meals such as these were always followed with lengthy conversations. He could not afford to be trapped in such a scenario. He would have to create his own chance.
He rose from his seat, gaining the attention of his hosts. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel well.”
“Must be all that bread you fed him,” Allaine mildly scolded. “I can escort you to the washroom.”
“Thank you, but I remember where it is,” Valentin lied, departing from the meal.
The boy did not wish to roam the building for long at the risk of being spotted and escorted back to the table. An open door along the hallway offered the boy a quick escape from any prying eyes around him.
Valentin entered a room that had a long, cushioned bench. It was upholstered in the greens of his clan colors. Above the bench hung a painting of the river fort that the Guerros family presided over. The room’s walls were covered in paintings. Portraits of people and landscapes ordained the room in all directions. An easel rested against the far wall with a stool sat next to it.
A man that Valentin had not met at the meal was sitting upon the stool, staring upon the blank canvas before him. A cane leaned against the wall next to him. His head did not turn at Valentin’s entrance and the boy believed it to be an opportunity to escape.
“You must be Valentin, sit down.”
Knowing that he had been caught, Valentin tentatively moved towards the bench and sat upon it. The man did not speak to him, instead choosing to continue inspecting the blank piece. He took the time to view each and every painting in the collection twice or perhaps thrice. The constant viewing showed the subtle similarities in the brush stroke and the color palette employed by the creator. Valentin did not know much about paintings so his conclusion was either all painters painted alike or this was all done by one artist.
A stack of completed paintings were stacked against the wall by the stool. On the foremost painting was a portrait of a woman that Valentin felt to be oddly familiar. Due to its placement on the floor, it was difficult for Valentin to make out specific features on the woman’s face. The woman lacked the jewelry and other adornments that covered the other portraits of women. Instead, the woman seemed to be devoid of any jewelry or clothing, just an expressionless face and bare shoulders.
While Valentin could not see the paintings beneath, he found it odd that all the visible edges were the same color. Were they duplicates of the same painting? Who was that woman and why was Valentin convinced he knew her?
“Did you also escape your meal?” Valentin was finally asked by the man.
“I was feeling unwell,” Valentin explained. “Why did you leave?”
“I was feeling unwell as well,” the man explained with a smile. “Even though I am fully grown, my parents still find ways to spoil me. Now it has become a habit to skip these gatherings in favor of time spent here. Besides, it is my siblings that will lead the clan forwards. My attendance is unnecessary and unwanted.”
The man still did not look at Valentin while he spoke as though the image in his mind would evaporate as soon as he looked away.
“You, on the other hand, are likely already being sought after. There is nobody as desired as you within the clan and without, dear cousin.”
“Did you paint all of these?” Valentin asked, not interested in pursuing the current topic.
“I did,” the man confirmed. “It is one of the few things that I do that people are proud of. Unfortunately, I’ve been creatively stuck for some time now. No matter where I go or what I see, inspiration has yet to meet me. Nothing may match my old inspiration.”
Valentin could see that behind the man’s thin smile was a melancholy expression. He had no advice to offer the man but did not believe that he could remain silent. It would be much too uncomfortable and he was not yet willing to leave this room.
“What was your old inspiration?” Valentin asked.
“That was the improper way of saying it,” the man corrected himself. “My old inspiration still sets my soul ablaze and makes me want to paint them over and over again. I want to capture every time they change, even minutely. Every time they change their hairstyle, I want to immortalize it. Every new wrinkle, every new feature must be kept for all time. They must not be forgotten about, ever. Yet, not one time have I ever captured them perfectly. I’ve begun to think such a feat is impossible. I hope through finding something new it will teach me what I lack.”
“Are they on the wall?” Valentin inquired innocently, checking the portraits on display.
“Such a piece does not belong with the rest,” the man replied with a small tinge of annoyance in his voice. “When I finish, I will place it in a room dedicated to the piece and it alone. The room will be for me and me alone to view at my pleasure and feel the fulfillment of my purpose. There is no other day I hope for more.”
“I hope that day comes,” Valentin replied, not sure if he really meant it.
“Thank you, cousin.”
The man fell into an enraptured silence as his eyes burned holes into the canvas. Valentin returned to viewing the paintings around him. His subsequent viewing, now marred by boredom tempered by the unwillingness to leave the room, was interrupted by a new entrant to the room.
“Young Master,” a familiar voice spoke up and scurried into the room. “You didn’t return to the meal and you weren’t to be found at the washroom. The Matriarch was concerned.”
The man’s head instantly swiveled towards the person who entered the room. A more genuine smile crossed his lips.
“Apologies, Rella,” the man said, sparing Valentin from stuttering his way through an answer. “I invited Valentin here to view my paintings. I did not realize I had kept him for so long. You must be exhausted, Valentin.”
“Oh, Master Arlo, I did not realize. Of course there is no issue with showing the Young Master your beautiful artwork,” the servant instantly reeled away seemingly in worry.
“Arlo,” Valentin spoke softly. The name sounded familiar to Valentin, but he could not recall where.
“Has my mother spoken of me before?” Arlo asked with surprise before shrugging and rising to his feet. “It should not surprise me, given your lineage. Do not worry, I don’t share the same anger as others over the events of the past.”
“T-thank you,” Valentin responded with uncertainty before fleeing the room along with the servant.
Valentin hurriedly followed Rella on her path towards the guest rooms. The woman walked with a surprisingly brisk pace. They dodged other servants, warriors, and clansmen alike before ascending the stairs up to the main lodgings.
There were fewer people on this floor, many had already retired to their rooms and one could hear the muffled echoes of voices carrying into the hall. They passed the room he temporarily stayed at earlier in the cycle and bustled further down the hall.
“How have you been, Rella?” Valentin inquired, feeling that it was the polite thing to do. He slowed his footsteps in the hopes that the woman would reciprocate.
“I have been busy,” Rella responded. “It is no different than when you last saw me. There is always so much that needs to be done and the days are never dull. You seem to be well, Young Master.”
“I am physically well,” Valentin answered truthfully, looking at the meager muscles that covered his otherwise spindly arms. “I do not feel my best in many other ways. Warfare and all that accompanies it was harder than I could have ever imagined. The world is difficult to understand and has only been more difficult since we last spoke.”
“Do not take this the wrong way, but I am pleased that you struggle with such things. Those that revel in war frighten me and such a disposition would ill suit you.”
Rella opened a door to reveal a bedroom inside. It was a simple room with a fairly sizable mattress and a painting of the lake hung up on the left wall. A small wooden desk furnished the other wall. Curtains covered a window that overlooked a night-obscured courtyard. Valentin appreciated how small the room was, giving a cozier feel to the sleeping space.
Valentin sat his tired body upon the mattress. He pressed his hand on the mattress and moved his hand around to feel for any imperfections within the stuffing. The area was smooth and inviting to the exhausted boy. However, when he looked up, the servant was still standing expectantly in the room.
“Is there anything that you need before you retire, Young Master?”
“I think I’m-,” Valentin abruptly stopped his dismissal of the servant.
A thought had suddenly bubbled in his mind after laying dormant for multiple seasons. He remembered the words that she had left with him previously. There was something that he had to know about his clan.
“Rella, do you have a charitable soul?” Valentin asked.
The woman froze temporarily before snapping out of her stupor. “I try to give when I am able. There is a beggar that I give day old bread to. Why do you ask such a question?”
“I went to the Temple to meet Elder Eudes before leaving the city,” Valentin explained. “I saw many people there that were receiving aid from the druids. The Elder mentioned charitable souls with such a warm smile, yet, it did not sit right with me. I cannot explain the reasons either. What do you think of the Temple, Rella?”
Rella offered Valentin a sad smile. “It is true that noble clans obtain many members of their estates through such deals. I am not of those that were traded from a temple. I was taken from my village my cycles ago by the same warband that you now serve. Though that phase of my past no longer affects me, I appreciate that you have given my words such thought. My current torment, however, comes from a different source.”
“If I can help-”
Rella raised her hand to cease Valentin’s words. “I apologize, your efforts will only make my life worse. It is nothing that I cannot deal with. Have a good night, Young Master Valentin.”
“You as well, Rella.”
The woman quickly departed the room and left Valentin to his comfortable bed and the prospects of a good rest. Unfortunately for the boy, his thoughts withheld the much needed sleep. There was a feeling that he couldn’t shake. A peculiar itch within his mind that pricked him awake and told him that he had missed something but refused to elaborate like a word at the tip of one’s tongue. The revelation that was floating just out of reach only served to make things more frustrating.
The painted face of the woman on the floor burned a shape into the boy’s mind. The vague resemblance continued to haunt him. He should have asked to look at it up close or, at the very least, tried harder to inspect it. Yet, even though he focused all his energy on it, he could not explain why. Intuition was his only guess, a spiritual clue handed to him from above. He would have to find it tomorrow.
It was only when he purged his mind of those thoughts did he reach his realization. The boy hoped that he was incorrect, that he was simply misremembering. A knot tied in his stomach and formed a pit of worry. Surely not. That was not your tormentor, was it, Rella?”