As Eldan walked he noticed the streets were unusually empty. He supposed perhaps the morning of a new court starting was always quiet, though he had never noticed it before. The sky still felt oppressively close and the greenish light filtering through the yellow clouds made the buildings and trees look alien and menacing to his eyes, as though he hadn’t walked these streets thousands of times. His sword dug painfully into his back and forced him to stand bolt upright to keep it from rubbing a sore between his shoulder blades, and he idly wondered if his mother had gone through all of this just to improve his posture.
Eldan slowed as he approached the overgrown, nearly wild garden of his father’s house, never quite knowing how to announce himself, and hoping his father might see him through a window and come outside, saving him the decision between knocking or just opening the door as though he had a right to enter. It had never been clear to Eldan whether he was supposed to behave as a family member or a guest.
Out of habit, he glanced up to check the time by the height of the sun, and realizing he couldn’t tell with the thick cloud cover resolved him to move more quickly, striding up to the door and knocking firmly. After a few moments he heard his father’s footsteps coming and wriggled his back straighter still, his hands clenching nervously.
“Eldan! Well, come inside, boy.” His father beamed as he opened the door. He pulled Eldan into a rough half-hug and clapped him on the back. “Would you like some tea? No? Well, put your things down and have a seat. Make yourself at home.”
Eldan’s father was a musician, though equally a scholar, and was quick with a joke and a laugh. He was also quick to anger, Eldan knew, and unlike his mother, who was predictable in her near-constant disapproval and irritation, Eldan never seemed to realize when he was about to make a misstep that would set his father off. Too many times he had made the mistake of relaxing into conversation and banter only to suddenly find his father erupting with fury and disgust, while not quite knowing what he had done or said to make the conversation take a sudden turn.
Once, years ago, Sylvan had found him hiding behind a tree, crying, after one of these rages, and uncharacteristically decided to attempt to comfort him. “It’s not you, you know” she sighed. “When they look at you they see each see the other, and neither can stand the parts of you that remind them of their time together.” She patted his back awkwardly as he sobbed into his knees.
His parents had separated almost immediately after Sylvan was born, and Eldan was the result of a brief attempt at reconciliation while she was a toddler. They apparently had stayed together until he was about one, though he obviously had no recollection of this time, before parting in mutual disgust with Sylvan firmly insisting on following their father while a bewildered Eldan clung to his mother’s chest. Sylvan and Eldan considered themselves siblings, and both parents claimed both children, but they each rarely saw the other parent.
‘Why isn’t it like that for you? They are both so proud of you, and they never get angry.” Eldan shoved his tears away with a grimy palm, leaving a streak of wet dirt across his face as he turned to his sister.
Sylvan grimaced, and some unreadable emotion flashed across her face before she schooled her features back into their usual placid expression. “I am a mirror, Eldan, nothing more. All that anyone sees in me is what I reflect back at them, and it seems people love their own reflections a great deal. You are too much yourself to ever escape their notice”. At that she stood up and brushed herself off, walking away without a backward glance.
Eldan dropped his pack inside the door of his father’s home, and wrestled the stave pack off his back, setting it down carefully so it didn’t make a heavy thunk from the hidden weight of the sword. His father had headed into the kitchen, presumably to make tea for himself, so Eldan took a seat and waited for him to come back. He heard a rumbling purr, and looked down to see a a large brush-tailed river cat stalking through the legs of a harpsichord, carrying a ball in its mouth. “Ah, hi Glade” said Eldan, relieved to see the familiar pet that would give him something to do with his hands and possibly a subject to talk about with his father. Glade dropped the ball at his feet and sat back expectantly. Eldan rolled the ball toward her and Glade swatted it back lazily, clearly expecting better.
Eldan’s father wandered back into the room holding a mug of tea. “You sure you don’t want tea?” When Eldan shook his head his father sat down, folding one long leg over the other. Eldan did not have his father’s height, though to be fair, he didn’t have his mother’s, either, but he did have his features. They both had thick, wavy hair that refused to be tamed and bright green eyes under bushy eyebrows. His father’s hair was now streaked with white and worn with an equally wild beard, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Sylvan, to further the irony, took after her mother, with fine, blonde hair and cat yellow eyes.
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“Well, I suppose you are heading to my old stomping grounds today, aren’t you? I remember how nervous I was on my first day at the court, suppose I wouldn’t have wanted any tea either. Have you thought about what you are going to pursue?”
“I.. haven’t decided. I have a few options but think it’s probably best to do the circuit studies first and see where that takes me.” In truth Eldan had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do, and had yet to be tapped for any trade or excel in any area of study, but he wanted to keep the conversation light and far away from the subject of his deficiencies.
“That’s fine, that’s fine. You know I went in as a scholar first and found my way to music in my second year. You don’t have to have it all figured out just yet.”
Eldan was well aware that his father had distinguished himself as a scholar and mathematician before following that with exemplary distinction as a musician. His groping his way through the circuit studies would in no way resemble his father’s ‘finding his way’. He bounced the ball to Glade, who snatched it out of the air with her claws before giving it a good bite and sending it back.
“Ah, how is Sylvan faring in her diplomacy training?”
His father’s face lit up at the chance to discuss Sylvan, who was currently in an extremely rare fourth year of advanced study with the court. The vast majority of students went into basic trades and spent their second year in preliminary apprenticeships, going on to become full apprentices afterward. A smaller percentage went into highly specialized trades or services and studied for the second year before being accepted into apprenticeships or guilds, and a select few went on to advanced studies in areas of scholarship or politics. The Court of Keepers operated on the principle that talent and dedication alone would shape an individual’s destiny, and that anyone had the opportunity to rise into the ranks of nobility or power during their time with the Court, but in practice it was virtually unheard of for a child of commoners to make such a leap. Sylvan had, of course, managed to accomplish this feat and was rising to a position of great political importance with a very real possibility of entering the ranks of the nobility someday. His father had also been one of the rare individuals to pursue four years with the Court, though while he was sought after as a composer, orchestra leader, instrumentalist and teacher, advanced music scholarship brought no attendant rise in rank or political power.
“Sylvan is thriving. She was born for this position, it seems. She is already participating in council meetings with the major states and there is talk of sending her abroad to handle trade negotiations with a minor state. She is on track to become the youngest diplomat in the history of the Court.” Eldan knew all this, of course, as Sylvan had been the talk of the annex since she was selected for the role, and his mother missed no opportunity to discuss her achievements. He let the ball drop from his fingers and roll slowly towards Glade, who didn’t even deign to look.
“So..” his father seemed to search for some accomplishment of Eldan’s to comment on after discussing Sylvan “are you still playing with that stave?”
Eldan crumpled in his seat. “Yes. I, ah, got pretty good at it this year and was selected to participate in the inter-annex tournament.” His father looked at him expectantly, but there was nothing more to tell. He had been selected, but his mother did not believe he would perform well enough so he withdrew to train another year in the hope he would be better prepared for the Court tournaments. She explained that it would be to his benefit to seemingly come from nowhere, with none of his competitors having had the chance to see and exploit his weaknesses. Even more embarrassingly, his selection had been of so little import that the news hadn’t even reached his father.
As the silence continued uncomfortably long, Eldan felt ridiculous for his dreams of being noticed and chosen for some thrilling position while at the Court. He had never been noticed or singled out for anything he had attempted in his life, and it seemed ludicrous that just this morning he had imagined that might suddenly change. Eldan glanced out the window at the yellow, indeterminate light and his stomach twisted with anxiety. “I think I should head out, to be sure I am on time to the Court.” His father nodded and stood up, seemingly just as eager to keep the visit short and civil, setting his tea on the cluttered desk behind his chair.
“Don’t be a stranger, then. And maybe you can ask Sylvan for some pointers when you arrive. She has a great deal of experience and might be able to help set you on your path.” His father didn’t look particularly hopeful, and Eldan was both disappointed and relieved by his lack of expectation. He stopped to pet a dismissive Glade on his way to the door before struggling into his pack and stave case for the second time that morning. Once settled he looked up at his father and, on impulse, stuck out his hand to clasp hands as a man might say goodbye. His father chuckled, took his hand and gave it a firm shake.
“One last thing, boy. Find your people when you get to the Court. Maybe that girl, Belladonna, can be one of them, but find other people that understand you and that you can trust. The Court can be.. difficult.”
“Her name is Cale, short for Caledonia.” Eldan murmured.
His father sighed. “All right, Cale, then. Well, may you find the favor of the Keepers, son.” Eldan bowed quickly, stepped outside and gratefully closed the door behind him, hearing his dad muttering “Caledonia, Belladonna, who chooses names like those?” as he walked back toward his tea. Eldan smiled slightly at that. His father, it seemed, hated Cale’s full name almost as much as she did herself.