Since City Hall was still merely a skeleton after what Ranun named “The Falcon Fires,” Ranun worked from the comfort of his home. And comfortable it had been, having Calace visit him throughout the day.
As king—especially with only a handful of people working under him to govern—Ranun had a tower of forms on his desk. Each report took a few minutes to read and reread before he could sign off or deny. In Soucrest, nobody held as much power over their kingdom as Ranun. He had a say in every facet of government.
The borders and who was allowed to cross. Public services, such as roads and schools and making sure they were well-kept and functional. The taxes and making sure everyone who profited off the hard work of his people compensated their employees fairly. These three jobs were the three most critical functions of Ranun’s job, something he took pride in making right for his people.
Recently, Ranun got out of a slump, realizing that as king—even if he didn’t deserve the crown—he did an incredible service to his people, something few kings these days could say they themselves accomplished. Only Ranun could govern this well. Neither Symond, nor Foxa, nor Gordon could handle quite like Ranun. While they had dedicated their careers as warriors—all remarkably talented—none of them understood how to rule for the public’s benefit quite like they knew how to lead the soldiers under them.
Ranun was the ruler of the people. It was reason enough to continue his reign, even if it was tainted. Even if the lies brought him pain, he shouldered through. He could live being the king Soucrest didn’t deserve, so long as he was the one they needed to continue thriving.
Still, it hurt realizing that even as king, Ranun couldn’t protect everybody under him, even with his governing. Ranun had around three battles left in him before his curse would eat him from the inside out, more or less depending on how big of a toll the battles took out of him. Regardless, what good would Ranun be in a war now?
Walking didn’t expand the mark on his stomach, fortunately. Only strenuous work did that. But running was considered taxing on his body, so the most he could do sports-wise was practice sword throwing. He would draw his sword out of his sheath and fling it forward to pierce a target in one swift motion. Ranun grew remarkably accurate, but with that exercise being the most he could get away with—and marginally, as he needed a few minutes of rest between each throw—of course, he mastered that.
Do what I can, not what I can’t, Ranun sighed.
Ranun hadn’t properly trained in fifteen years! He only kept in good shape thanks to his wife—and detrition—Calace.
Thinking of the goddess, the door to his study twisted and turned. Her blond hair appeared first before her rosy cheek peeked into view. She pushed open the door, smiling as she did so.
Ranun beamed. “You visit me so soon since your last, what’s the special occasion?”
“Company,” Calace said.
“Well, I always love your company.”
“No, no,” Calace laughed. “Other company this time. A one Gordon Fall requests a meeting with his brother.”
“Bring him in—” Ranun lifted his hand. “With a jar of ale in his hand. He’s no fun to talk to sober.”
Calace smiled. “Already on it,” she joked.
At least he thought, seeing Gordon enter through the double doors, walking past Calace with a large glass jar of ale in his hands. Ranun laughed, sparking a slight smile from Gordon’s lips, something he rarely did.
“You seem chipper today,” Gordon said before plopping down on one of Ranun’s chairs. Thankfully today, he didn’t have on his suit of armor, choosing to wear an orange Colorcoat instead. His Soulgem was dull in color, inactive since he hadn’t used it in a few days.
Ranun nodded. “I just discovered the wonders of working at home. And besides, Calace is a prettier ‘secretary’ than David will ever be.”
Calace smiled. “I’ll leave you two alone for the time being. Call for me if you need me.”
“Thank you, Calace,” Ranun nodded.
She left, leaving the two brothers alone with a jar of ale. Not that Ranun drank. He had given up on alcohol ten years ago.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Gordon asked, filling his glass.
“I’m no good with that kind of stuff,” Ranun waved. He looked at his brother cold. “One sip turns to dozens. Dozens turn to hundreds. Then, I lose myself. Never again.”
“That was a different time,” Gordon said. “You were cheering to sadness, where now we could cheer for celebration.”
“Celebration?” Ranun asked. “What are we celebrating?”
“Well, many things. Working at home could be one of them, or whatever it is that is making you happy.”
“Is it that obvious?” Ranun asked.
“It’s easy to tell,” Gordon said, raising his glass. “You’ve been mopey ever since Igor; Gem God forgive us. I thought you would be worse after the fires, but two weeks after, you appear like your normal self, before Igor’s tragedy.”
Ranun nodded. “I’ve solidified my purpose in this kingdom, and I can rule in relative peace now, thankfully.”
“Good,” Gordon said, bringing the glass of ale to his mouth. “Cheers to you.”
He finished the glass, filling it up again, bringing it one more time back up to his mouth. “And another cheer, for we’ve finally found a suspect.”
“What!” Ranun jumped from his chair. Gordon grinned, downing the glass of ale. Ranun reclaimed his seat, jumpy with excitement. “You’ve found him? Who?!”
“We’ve narrowed it down to a single organization,” Gordon explained. “And by ‘we,’ I really mean Jaxton, of course. He researched the various crime syndicates, those who specialized in drugs, specifically Gem Candy. You’ve likely heard of the two we initially had in question. The Green Chefs and the Firebirds.”
“The Green Chefs?” Ranun asked. “Do you mean the Green Dragons?”
Gordon shook his head. “No, after their president Corolla inherited the syndicate from his father, he decided to change the name to the Chefs instead.”
“Curious,” Ranun said.
“Not really,” Gordon said. “This Corolla figure is quite odd. Oh, and while we are discussing him, it is Corolla, according to Jaxton. He read up on him, discovered some of his quirks. He likes to roam around in both an orange suit and an orange mask. Jaxton found some reports of suspects wearing the orange suit, but no mask.”
“So it might not be him?” Ranun asked, lowering a brow. What’s the point of telling me this if an identifying criterion is missing?
“Jaxton thinks he’s on to something, though,” Gordon continued. He took the tiniest sip of ale Ranun had ever seen him take. “The reports of the individual came from two cities so far. Steepcreek and Electric City.”
“The two cities closest to Igor?” Ranun asked. “You sure it isn’t just coincidence? I thought he was notorious for his mask.”
“Exactly what I said,” Gordon snickered. “Damn brat, he made a fine point to me.”
“What?” Ranun asked. He started to feel anxious, worried, dare he think, afraid?
“A mask would give him away, much more than even an orange suit, especially in a country like Soucrest, where it’s our primary color. But on him, he had something even more identifiable than a mask.”
Ranun frowned.
“Ears of a half-elf,” Gordon said. “His mask has a wrap that goes around his head, concealing his ears. Early reports point them out, but in the more recent accounts we’ve seen, nobody mentions it. He doesn’t want to be suspected, so he uses his own ears as a distraction since the information we can openly find claims he’s human.”
“This may be above my understanding,” Ranun said. “Is it the orange suit that gives you confidence this is our man?”
“That,” Gordon nodded. “And the Firebirds are stationed all the way in Reece, on the opposite side of Valoria. The Green Chefs are based in Gleon, east of our border. Jaxton says he’s ninety percent confident in this. Our investigation is going to get a little more hands-on from here on out in our investigation.”
“So, shall I send a collaboration request from Gleon? Have you and your men storm their base to search for answers?”
“Soon,” Gordon said. “Actually, go ahead, but I plan on catching Corolla while he’s here in our country.”
“If you believe that’s the best course of action, I’m all for it,” Ranun said. “But justice will be served for Igor, and I’m going to need your word.”
“I swear,” Gordon said, slapping down an empty glass on Ranun’s desk.
“On?”
“The colors we hail,” Gordon said, sharing a smile with Ranun.
“Then, that’s settled. Thanks for telling me. I think I’m in an even better mood now.”
“No problem,” Gordon said, pausing. “Though, I didn’t come here only to talk about Corolla.”
“Oh?” Ranun raised a brow.
Gordon took a breath, getting a tad more serious in his demeanor. “It’s recruiting season for the Colorswords.”
“Uh oh.” Ranun frowned and looked away briefly before building the courage to look back at his brother.
“You sound worried,” Gordon said.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Ranun sighed. “I know where this is going. Does it have to be now?”
“I’m afraid it’s better this way, Ranun. Your son has potential. He has already passed the entrance exams—”
“He’s so young!” Ranun complained with a slight irritation in his voice. Was it irritation or denial of his own son’s abilities?
“Eighteen is a full year past adulthood,” Gordon challenged. “He’s talented. Probably even better than you were at his age.”
Ranun had nothing to say, no way of denying that claim. His son was damn good—talented, top of his class. But Ranun wanted him as a kingsguard, or at the least, an agent. Safer jobs, but just as honorable.
“Point is,” Gordon said. “It’s time for him to grow, leave his nest. I swear Ranun; sometimes it feels like the boy has two mothers.”
Ranun nodded. “It’s his decision to make, not mine.”
“Right,” Gordon said. His eyes debated on pouring himself another drink, though he set it down to join Ranun’s empty glass. “But I thought it was more appropriate if I asked. A courtesy to you.”
“I appreciate it,” Ranun said. “You know, a part of me wants to deny him that choice.”
“Huh?” Gordon frowned.
“If my cursed body as king can’t protect my country, I thought the least I could do is protect my only child as his father.”
Gordon smiled softly. “’Sometimes, a warrior has to lower his shield to finally take his first swing.’”
“’Lest he’s bombarded with blows, for he who holds his shield too long eventually has it break,’” Ranun said. They were his own words, used to train those who would eventually become the first edition of the Colorswords. Ranun smiled. He looked at the family portrait on his desk, salvaged from his office during the fires. The happy youth of Ranun, Calace, and Aeryn were visible immediately, masked behind a haunting reality seven months after it was taken.
“Is it really okay?” Gordon asked.
“For Aeryn? I don’t see why—”
“No,” Gordon said. “I already know Aeryn is up for the challenge. But for you? Are you really okay?”
Ranun nodded.
“Then it’s decided,” Gordon said. “I’ll extend him an invite the next time I see him. Thank you, Ranun, you know he’ll be a great Color.”
“I trust in my son to do great things,” Ranun said. Trust is the best I can give him now. But hey, it’s one of the many things my father never had in me. Trust, faith, love…
“And great he will be,” Gordon said, standing. “I suppose it’s time I go. You still have quite the stack of papers there.”
Ranun rubbed his hair. Damn, working at home didn’t make the work itself go by any faster. It would carry him through to the night. Ranun stood up and engaged in a weird handshake with his brother. Professional despite their relationship as brothers. “Come back more often.”
“I will,” Gordon said.
“Bring Jaxton next time, too,” Ranun said.
“Ha! We’ll see, the boy hasn’t been out of his books the past week or so. I don’t know if even you could bring him out of his studies.”
Ranun smiled, letting Gordon leave. He sat down in his desk chair, sighing as he picked another form from the top of the stack.
***
Calace brought a tray of diced fruit up the stairs, heading to Ranun’s study. She didn’t know how long the brothers would talk, as they hadn’t been the most “talkative” siblings on the planet. They were both just so busy with their respective responsibilities. Their only time they could feasibly be together had been when their work had aligned.
Calace had decorated the hallways with pictures and portraits, arranged so that at the start, their earliest memories displayed first, leading up to the more recent portraits near the other end. Calace admired the first painting of Ranun and her. Ranun wore his vintage Color armor, pink mist raised from his boots, as he had recently returned from a mission miles away from Fort Stone.
Her hair was dyed black then, before reverting to her natural blond in the following portrait, the one with her pregnant stomach and Ranun kissing her cheek. The fool kept his lips to her face the entire painting.
Down the hall, Aeryn as a baby had the most portraits of any given time, as the first two years of his life, he had about five of them, changing from Ranun’s hands to Calace’s.
A third of the hall needed to be filled with memories before it would be complete. They still had half their lives to live, so it would be a long while, with every moment needing to be special. Otherwise, they would run out of room before the end.
Every inch of the house needed to have a purpose. Even the overly long hallway to rooms barely used needed something to make it stand out. With Calace’s touch, their mansion turned out to be more of a museum than a house.
They took the house skeptically, not wanting to live in something so big, so unnecessary, but everyone about demanded that they take Nolan’s old mansion.
Calace stopped, squinting her eyes down the hall. Gordon’s leaving already?
She approached him. “Fruit?”
“Oh, Calace,” Gordon said. He picked three cubes of fruit with the fingers on his right hand. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“So you’re leaving already?” Calace asked.
Gordon swallowed a cube, licking his lips. “Yes, unfortunately. Even on my off days, I have work to do.”
“Oh, so this wasn’t a friendly visit? What did you need to talk to him about.”
“Some personal matters,” Gordon said. “Some news involving Igor. Oh, and he agreed to let Aeryn join the Colors.”
“He did?” Calace blinked. “Ranun agreed to that?”
“I know, surprising, right?”
Calace nodded. “He’s growing more confident, even now as he reached his forties. He’s growing to be more like his own son.”
Gordon snickered. “More like he’s growing into his old self. Something happened to him recently, something good. What do you think that was?”
“I think he snapped,” Calace said. “I came in on him sleeping in a bed of ash in City Hall. I think all the pressure got to him, and he couldn’t hold it in.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Gordon frowned.
“No, it is!” Calace said, perking up. “What do you do when your pipes start leaking out water?”
“You fix it?” Gordon asked, playing along. Calace loved these types of analogies, using them when she could.
“Right,” Calace continued. “But, when you fix them, do you buy better material the next time around, or do you choose the same brand that failed you already.”
“Oh, I see,” Gordon said, taking more fruit from her tray. “So it’s a good thing he’s stressed.”
Calace shook her head. “No, not what I’m trying to say at all. Look, if your pipes work, do you care about fixing them?”
Gordon shook his head, politely not speaking with his mouth full.
“Right,” Calace smiled. “Because it’s just something that you don’t need until it fails. Ranun’s better now. He found new confidence in himself; he found new pipes.”
Gordon nodded, swallowing before he spoke. “And what do you think? About Aeryn joining the Colorswords?”
“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask,” Calace admitted. “I just want to know why you asked Ranun instead of me? I’m his mother, you know.”
“Oh, don’t use the ‘mother card’ on me, Calace,” Gordon laughed. “I know you would’ve given your blessing. It was Ranun who I feared would be stubborn about this.”
Calace nodded, understanding. “I always knew Aeryn would be a great warrior. Ever since he was a kid, I understood he would be the best of both of us.”
“He was lucky to have you two as parents,” Gordon noted. “Look at Ranun and me. Our father was strict, and our mothers were whores.”
“I have a feeling Aeryn will be kingly,” Calace said.
Gordon nodded. “He would be the Great King Two. Or, the Great King Jr?”
Calace laughed. “Have I told you the story about how Aeryn got kicked out of dueling school?”
“No, I’ve never heard of this. When?”
“When he was ten,” Calace said.
“A ten-year-old got kicked out of dueling school?” Gordon asked.
Calace nodded. She instinctively handed over the tray of diced fruit to Gordon, as she liked to explain her stories with her hands, gesturing while she explained. “Aeryn had a friend named Toddy. They were both in a private school, but only Aeryn was fit enough to be accepted to the dueling academy attached to the school they attended. Anyway, since they were friends, and it was only the first year of his training, and the basics were common among both schools, Aeryn decided to join the public academy to participate with Toddy.
“There were probably hundreds of kids in the gymnasium and about a hundred more parents watching their kids in the stands. It was so packed in there; I could hardly breathe,” Calace explained, using her hands to wrap around a large, rectangular-like representation of the gymnasium. “Anyway, it wasn’t that hard to watch your kid, but it was really hard for the refs to manage everybody. So the kids dueled in an ‘honor system,’ basically, anyone who gets hit accepts it and continues until one of them wins the bout.
“Aeryn was in the stands with me, and he just finished his first duel of the day. We watched the rest of the fights, primarily Toddy. He was a thin little kid, no match for the boulder of a kid they pitted him against, probably a twelve-year-old taking the course two years later. Anyway, this kid destroys Toddy.”
“Destroys?” Gordon asked. “Like down to his flesh and bones?”
Calace frowned. They used wooden swords, scaled to their size to be like the real swords of adults. “No, like, he hits him probably thrice in a row in a single set. But what we didn’t know from the stands, what we didn’t hear from the duel, was the kid was refusing his own points so that he could wail on Toddy like a brute.”
Gordon frowned. “And no one caught it?”
Calace shook her head. “The refs were all busy. And the kid didn’t stop. Eventually, he escalated his attacks, going faster, smacking him down on the floor. I was livid at that point. I stood up and hopped down immediately on my way.”
“Did you give the kid a stern talking too?” Gordon asked. “One of Lady Stone’s specialties?”
Calace grinned hard. “No,” she said, feeling the excitement within her building up, nearly exploding out of her as she was about to finish the story. “Aeryn was already ten steps ahead of me. I trailed behind him, too late to get there before him. He challenged the boy in Toddy’s stead. The kid—and by the way, he was about twice Aeryn’s size at that point—accepted, only when Aeryn reached for Toddy’s sword on the ground, the bully swung his sword to Aeryn’s head.”
Calace’s hands mimicked the movements of her memories, reciting them through theatrics. “His sword halted on Aeryn’s head like he was of mythstone. The hit drew blood with how hard he swung, but Aeryn glared death into the kid. He cursed for the Gem God, but I think he was busy laughing. So, he tries to double down, going for another strike. Aeryn blocked with his wrists, stopping the blade again.”
She took a breath, reaching for her Aeryn impression. “’Are you done,’ Aeryn said. ‘Is it my turn?’ When the bully tried to hit him again, Aeryn jabbed him in the gut with the tip of his wooden sword. I’ve never seen such a heavy kid fall as hard as he had at that moment. ‘Oops, I missed,’ Aeryn said, jabbing him again on the floor. He let the bully get up to his feet before hitting him with a flurry of attacks. Left right left right left right POW! The kid went to the ground crying. Aeryn helped Toddy up and started teaching him the very moves he used on the bully, all the while the kid whimpered on the floor.”
Gordon lowered a brow, though even he cracked a smile. “What of the kid after?”
Calace giggled. “Ranun and I had to beg their parents for forgiveness.”
“Were they infuriated?” Gordon asked.
“No, not at all,” Calace said. She retrieved the fruit tray back from Gordon, taking a piece herself. “They were surprisingly cool about it.”
“And Aeryn, did he get into any trouble?” Gordon asked.
“Aeryn was suspended a week, while the other boy was suspended three.”
“Damn public programs,” Gordon said. “Aeryn would be commended, not reprimanded for doing that in the Colors.”
Calace nodded, holding on to that sweet memory. It was wrong, though it was so right too. “That was one of my favorite memories I have of my son. It was at that point I knew Aeryn would grow up to be a fine young man. He’ll stand up for those who need it. He’s like his father in that regard, I suppose, but I’m glad he has that in him nonetheless.”
“That’s why we need men like him,” Gordon said. “Men to lead, men who know what’s worth protecting. A man who already understands what the Colors represent. The protection of those who can’t defend themselves.”
“Be gentle to him,” Calace said. “He’s still our baby boy.”
Gordon nodded. “I must be going. Thank you for this tale, Calace. I sincerely appreciate it.”
He left down the hall, leaving Calace with her tray of fruit, which needed devouring. So, she might as well finish it with Ranun. She entered inside, and he smiled immediately after seeing her. Who would have thought, after twenty years, a husband could grant a smile every time a wife came into sight? And Ranun always claimed that he was the lucky one out of the two.
“Whatcha doing?” Calace said, moving to sit on Ranun’s lap. She set the tray down in front of him on the table, purposely placing it over his work so he could take a break.
“I was working. But now, I’m admiring you.”
“Stop that,” Calace laughed.
Ranun rubbed through her hair, showing his usual affection. They stayed in his chair for a minute, Calace enjoying his embrace, and Ranun enjoying doing the embracing, kissing her up and down the back of her neck. It didn’t go much further than there, as that had been off-limits during working hours.
Calace spotted the picture she saved from the fire on his desk—the one with Aeryn between them and Ranun’s hand wrapped around her, grabbing her stomach. One of the large pictures Calace removed from her hall of memories. “You know, I debated letting that picture burn in that fire. I would have too if it didn’t mean so much to you.”
“What?” Ranun asked, speaking softly. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Every time you look at it… you get sad. Depressed, even. I don’t know why you keep it so close, given how much pain it brings you.”
“It’s the only picture I have of the four of us,” Ranun said softly. Calace felt him swallow his heart from her back on his chest. “The closest thing to a picture I have of her.”
“I know, Ranun,” Calace said. Her voice felt gutted and rasp. Damn it. Now I’m getting sad.
“I thought we were going to have another one,” Ranun said.
“We did,” Calace said. “For minutes, but we did. She was here. She was ours, even for a moment.”
“I barely knew her,” Ranun said. “But I miss her. I miss her so much…”