Part Three

The Wells' Family Legacy

Thomas trailed after his father, slipping into the seat beside the one his father sat down on. He reached forward, grabbing an apple from the table and starting to eat it. After his conversation with Matheson, he didn't really feel like eating. He had to force himself to eat the apple, reminding himself of how important food was for him. Next to him, Matheson was speaking to a woman with auburn hair that was perfectly straight, similar to how Braya’s hair was. Whereas Braya’s hair barely fell to her shoulders, the woman’s hair went long past that, ending in the middle of her back. Almost as if she felt Thomas’ eyes on her, her hazel eyes shifted past Matheson and onto him.

“Hello!” she greeted cheerfully, sending a smile his way.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Thomas replied. He found her smile nearly impossible to ignore, so he smiled back.

“Emmy, this is my son, Thomas Wells,” Matheson introduced, gesturing to the boy. He didn’t correct his father’s use of Wells as a surname, discovering that it didn’t bother him as much as it would have the previous evening. Why not use it, when he knew that he had a place next to his father, when he was exactly where he belonged? Suddenly, the memory of what had just happened flooded through his mind, whispering to him that perhaps he was wrong.

Thomas quickly shook his head, chasing away those thoughts and feelings just as quickly as they had entered his mind. No, his father was just concerned that Thomas’ curiosity would harm him. He most likely wasn’t even aware of the fact that he had scared him as much as he did. If he did, he would have apologized, just like he had apologized for not being a good father for the past twelve years.

“Pleasure to meet you, Thomas. My name is Emmeline Main, the advisor of Aster Province.”

“Aster?” Thomas asked, unfamiliar with the name. “Where is that?”

Advisor Main’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why, it’s only the second largest province in all of the kingdom. How have you not heard of it?”

Thomas sank lower in his seat, once again feeling uncomfortable with his lack of knowledge. For what felt like the millionth time, he said, “I’m from Malin, not Tascela.”

Advisor Main arched an eyebrow. “Really?” She spared a glance over at Matheson, whose face was unreadable. “Well, I suppose in that case, I should answer your question.” She paused before continuing to speak. “Aster is located in the south, near Aspaya.”

Thomas nodded in understanding. “You said that it’s the second largest province. What’s the first?”

Advisor Main’s smile tightened, seeming to be bothered by the question. “Pasque Province.” Thomas’ eyes widened in recognition at the name. “It’s in the--”

“The north,” Thomas finished, excited to finally show that he did, in fact, know some things about the kingdom of his birth. “It borders the fief--” He broke off quickly, noticing that the woman had stopped smiling and her eyes had hardened. Thomas glanced over at Matheson, spotting the disappointment in his facial expression. He frowned, trying to understand what he had done wrong. Then, he remembered his father’s words from their conversation on the staircase.

“The advisors are a part of a higher social class than you.”

And he had just interrupted Advisor Main, showing blatant disrespect for her class by doing so, acting like he was above her when, in reality, it was the opposite.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said quickly, letting sincerity fill his voice. “I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted coolly. Thomas wasn’t sure if she had interpreted him in spite or if she accidentally did so. Either way, her reaction caused him to fold in on himself, knowing that it was not, in fact, fine. Still, she continued her sentence from before, her attitude now standoff-ish. “It’s in the northern regions of Tascela.” She went silent, focused on eating her plate of food.

Thomas went quiet as well, feeling awkward after his mistake. Then, another question flew through his mind and he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Who is the advisor for Pasque?”

Advisor Main seemed to not have heard him, though he didn’t know if she purposely did so or truly didn’t hear his question. Spotting his crestfallen face, Matheson leaned over to Thomas. “Harley Ross. He’s sitting with his wife at the end of the table.”

Advisor Ross looked to be a few years older than Advisor Main, with dark brown hair. He said something to the woman sitting next to him, a pretty woman with blonde hair that fell an inch or two past her shoulders, who laughed at whatever he had said. Across from them sat another woman with dark skin, her black hair cut short and framing her face. She added something to the man’s conversation with his wife, causing the blonde woman to laugh again, this time with Advisor Ross. They seemed to be the only ones to be genuinely enjoying their breakfast, spending time making jokes without any formalities existing between them. Thomas felt a feeling of longing flash through him, almost as if he would prefer to be sitting with them and not next to his father. He quickly shook it away, telling himself that he was where he should be, sitting next to his father and learning about the world in which he was a part of.

“Who’s talking with them?” Thomas asked, turning his attention back onto Matheson.

“The advisor for Trillium Province, Alina Gilberts.” Before Thomas could ask any other questions, Matheson added, “Trillium is a set of islands just off of the coast of Aster.”

Thomas nodded, looking at Advisor Gilberts. She seemed to only be just a couple of years older than him. “She looks young.”

“Alina is,” a new voice said. Thomas looked over to find a man around his father’s age sitting down in the empty seat beside him. “Giligan Fisher, Tascelan Advisor.” Then, turning back to face Matheson, he went on to say, “The morning meeting was moved up an hour, Matheson.”

Matheson kept his face blank, though Thomas noticed how he tightened his hold on the mug of coffee in his hand. After taking a sip from it, he asked, “Did King Charles say why?”

Advisor Fisher shook his head. “He didn’t. Rumors are that he wants to discuss the Enlistment Act.”

Thomas' ears pricked up at the mention of the controversial law. “What about it?”

Advisor Fisher glanced over at the boy. “Thomas, correct?” Thomas nodded. “Well, Thomas, King Charles and his supporters wish for it to not exist, stating that it’s unnecessary. However, your father, myself, and some of the other advisors state that it should be enforced now that Tascela is a tributary to the Aspayan Empire, per the emperor’s decree.”

“But why make the meeting about it earlier?”

“Because,” Matheson said, setting his cup down on the table in front of him, “today’s meeting was voting for whether it should be implemented or not. By moving it up, he’s making it harder for those who want the act to be present for the vote.”

Thomas frowned. “Would it be so bad for the act to not be a thing?” Both men went quiet, staring at Thomas. He shifted under their gaze, not liking the attention he was receiving. “I mean, what’s the reason behind it? To gather more troops, right? But there’s no war right now. Why would you force people to join the army when there’s no fighting?”

Matheson’s eyes hardened, though it wasn’t him to answer Thomas’ questions. No, it was a new person that entered the conversation, sitting down in the seat in front of them, a woman with dirty blonde hair pulled tight into a side braid, a similar style to Princess Jacquelyn’s hair from the previous night and her painting. “Emperor Elliott is setting his sights on the kingdom of Eskil. Why not increase the amount of supplies now to help prepare for that war?”

Thomas swallowed nervously. “Supplies? Sure, I understand that argument, but soldiers aren’t supplies. They’re people, with families depending on their safe return home, with aspirations of their own.” He thought about Charlie and his carvings, about Eli and his family farm, even about Levi and Jake, two friends who would most likely be separated when they turned sixteen. “Why use the act so early on in the preparations for war when it’ll rip them away from their loved ones, when it’ll make it impossible for them to achieve their dreams?”

Advisor Fisher and the woman laughed. Feeling even more uncomfortable, Thomas glanced over at Matheson, looking for support. To his dismay, his father only looked to be angry. Suddenly, Thomas remembered his warning from earlier and what Advisor Fisher had just told him.

“I do not want to hear you ask any more questions about what our leader is planning. You cast doubt on him, doubt that could lead to people wondering where your loyalties lie. And I do not want my son to appear suspicious nor for anyone to question his loyalties.”

“King Charles and his supporters wish for it to not exist, stating that it’s unnecessary. However, your father, myself, and some of the other advisors state that it should be enforced now that Tascela is a tributary to the Aspayan Empire, per the emperor’s decree.”

Thomas was sitting there, just uttering questions about the emperor’s wishes. He was speaking out against what Emperor Elliott wanted to have happen, instead speaking in favor of King Charles and his supporters, people who the emperor was most likely planning on killing, just for the mere reason that they were being more reasonable and cared deeply for the citizens of Tascela Kingdom.

“Dreams?” the woman asked. “Why do you think we care about their dreams? They are only a means to an end, helping in the quest for Aspaya to control all four kingdoms of Esmaya. Why do you care about them and their ‘dreams’? Being a noble yourself, you’re exempt from the act altogether. The only ones affected are the common folk. Why do you care about peasants?”

Thomas’ heart skipped a beat at her words. Just a week ago, he was celebrating his sixteenth birthday with his friends at the orphanage, people that he cared deeply about, people that this woman didn’t give a single thought towards their lives and aspirations, deeming them to be peasants, a word she spoke with the same disdain as talking about a rat. Just a week ago, he himself could be considered common folk, scared for what his future as an Aspayan soldier would bring him, anxious to know what the Enlistment Act would entail for the other kids he knew. Seven days ago, he was preparing himself for giving his life to the Aspayan Empire, dying for their quest towards world domination, despite knowing that the emperor cared little for his sacrifice, cared little about what he was forcing upon Thomas and all the other sixteen-year-old boys throughout Malin and, eventually, Tascela. Only he didn’t know that his feelings towards Thomas and all the other boys could also be attributed to those who served him. He didn’t know the officials standing with him couldn’t bring themselves to consider the impacts their decisions brought, not even thinking about the consequences of the Enlistment Act. They didn’t care about the people of their provinces, a responsibility that Matheson had stated before they had walked into the dining room was their main duty as advisors in the Tascelan Court.

It made Thomas sick how little they cared about the people they were supposed to serve, knowing just how much they cared about him as Thomas Hayes. They only seemed to care about Thomas Wells, the son of the Aspayan Hero.

Instead of answering the woman’s accusatory questions, he stayed silent, looking down at his half-eaten apple. He could feel the weight of Matheson’s glare on him, boring deep into him. The woman didn’t seem to mind his silence, turning to Advisor Fisher and starting a conversation about traveling performers that were due to arrive. Hearing her talk so casually about mundane things immediately following her words made Thomas feel even sicker.

Thomas glanced up, back towards where Advisor Gilberts, Advisor Ross, and Advisor Ross’ wife were sitting. Advisor Ross and his wife were talking with each other, heedless of the conversation that had just taken part on Thomas’ end of the table. Advisor Gilberts, however, had seemingly heard what they were discussing for she was gazing at Thomas with something akin to sympathy on her face. As Thomas looked at her, she sent him a small smile before turning away.

“May I be excused?” Thomas asked, looking back at his father. He wanted to get away from Advisor Gilberts’ pity for him and the sick nature of his father’s friends. Matheson stared at him for another few seconds, still glaring at him, then stood up from his seat.

“Come,” Matheson said. “I can take you back to your room.”

Thomas followed him out of the dining room, doing his best to avoid Advisor Gilberts’ eyes on him as he trailed behind his father. As soon as they had made it to the staircase, Matheson rounded on Thomas.

“How dare you?” he asked, his face scrunched up in anger.

“I-I--” Thomas stuttered, folding in on himself as he stumbled backwards. Matheson followed him, stepping forward and pushing Thomas backwards until he hit the wall in front of the stairs.

“Do you know who that woman was?” Matheson asked, his eyes flashing with anger and his face turning red. He seemed to be even angrier than when he had told Thomas to not question the emperor, if that was possible. Back then, Matheson was clearly in control of his anger, skilled at using it to simply scare Thomas in agreeing with his demands. Now, though, it was obvious he wasn’t in control of his anger, allowing it to dictate his actions.

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And it made Thomas even more fearful of the man, even more scared of what his father was going to do with that anger.

“Well, Thomas?” Matheson asked. “Do you know who she was?”

Thomas shook his head, finding it impossible to say a word when faced with his father’s anger, with his eyes that seemed to bore into him.

Something inside of Matheson appeared to snap, for Matheson’s face contorted and then a hand was reaching towards Thomas, grabbing his hair and pushing his head up.

“Use your words, Thomas!” he snapped. “Do you know?”

“No!” Thomas shouted, his fear getting the best of him, coming out in the volume of his voice. “I don’t!”

“Let me enlighten you, then,” Matheson spat, letting go of Thomas’ hair. “Her name is Sandra Fisher and she is Giligan’s wife. Though she’s not officially a part of the Tascelan Court, her words still carry importance.” He paused before adding, “Giligan is the most powerful of all the advisors from the provinces.”

Thomas’ eyes widened as the full weight of his mistake of speaking ill about something the emperor desperately wanted to happen hit him. He had done exactly what Matheson had told him not to do. He had pushed back against the emperor’s wishes, he had most likely made everyone at that dining table question where his loyalties lay. And he had done so right in the face of one of the most powerful advisors in all of the court.

“I’m sorry, Father,” Thomas immediately said, explanations and apologies pouring out from within him, like rain falling from a thunderstorm. “I-I didn’t know that. I know what you told me to do, I know you told me to not ask any more questions about Emperor Elliott’s actions, I know you told me to not give them any reason to question me, but I just…” His voice trailed off, not really certain how to finish his sentence.

“You just what, Thomas?” Matheson sneered. “Didn’t think? Didn’t wonder if what you’re about to say would look bad on you and on me? Just said whatever you wanted to without thinking of the consequences?”

Thomas nodded, opening and closing his mouth without saying anything. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it appeared his father had managed to hear him.

“You’re sorry?” he asked. He laughed, though it didn’t sound as if he found the situation that they were in to be amusing in the slightest. “You’re sorry? Do you think for a second that excuses what you just did? It won’t take back what you just said. It won’t make the other advisors forget it. It won’t stop them from wondering about where the loyalties of my son, the son of the Aspayan Hero, lie.”

Thomas blinked, feeling tears coming to his eyes. “I know,” he quickly said. “I know, but I’m so--”

Suddenly, a hand came from nowhere, slapping his cheek and making his head turn to the side. He kept it there, frozen, his heartbeat and his breathing feeling as if they had just stopped, the world frozen in time as Thomas processed what had just happened.

His father had slapped him.

Matheson, the man he thought loved and cared for him, had just hit him.

Just as quickly, the words of his mother floated into his mind.

“The thought of him turning his anger on you, the thought of him taking you away, the thought of you experiencing first-hand his violent nature…” Kathleen broke off, a haunted look in her eyes. “I can’t even bear the thought of that ever happening. Thomas, everything I did for the past twelve years has been in an attempt to try and protect you from him.”

His mother had been right to keep him away from Matheson, to protect him from the man that had just slapped him in the face.

And the very thing that Kathleen had never wanted to happen to him had just played out: Thomas had seen Matheson’s violent nature, his anger had been turned upon him, and he had just experienced his father hitting him.

“Take this as your final warning, Thomas,” Matheson said, his voice sounding far away and like it was coming from under water. “Do not question the Empire again. Do not ever do anything to make anyone, not just the advisors, but anyone, question your loyalties. Or so help me God, Thomas…” His voice trailed off, leaving Thomas to imagine how he wanted to end that sentence. And Thomas could very easily think of what his father would do if he went against his wishes when he thought about what had just happened, when he felt his cheek throbbing in pain, when Matheson was still glaring at him in anger. Then, Matheson asked, “Do you understand me?”

Thomas didn’t say anything as he continued to look away, frozen in place, staring towards the left of the stairwell, keeping his eyes trained away from his father.

“Do you understand, Thomas?” Matheson asked. Again, he grabbed Thomas’ hair, pulling his head so that he could meet Thomas’ eyes. His father’s blue eyes were icy, staring hard at Thomas, seemingly thinking that his hard gaze was enough to make Thomas agree with him.

And maybe it was, for Thomas nodded. Licking his lips that had gone dry in the heat of his father's anger, he managed to say, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good.” With that, Matheson let go of him, stepping away from him and straightening his shirt. Any evidence that he had been angry vanished, replaced with an image of a man content that his wishes had been followed. It made Thomas sick that his father had flipped appearances like a person changing clothes and he swallowed his nausea away. His swallow quickly turned into a cough, though, when he couldn’t swallow past the dryness in his throat.

“Now,” Matheson was saying, “I have a meeting to get ready for. I’ll have a guard take you up to your room.” Thomas didn’t say anything as Matheson walked out and returned with a guard. Then, without saying a word to Thomas, he left again, leaving Thomas and the guard alone.

Thomas glanced over at the guard who was looking nervous standing in the doorway of the staircase. He wore the red uniform of the Aspayan Army like all of the guards in Castle Tascela and he shifted his hold on the spear in his hand as Thomas looked at him. His green eyes were lighter in color than Kathleen’s eyes and he had dark brown hair, similar in shade to Braya’s hair. He also appeared to be the same age as Thomas, making him wonder if this was a sixteen-year-old boy who had been forced to fight in the army. That thought was quickly followed by the realization that, if it weren’t for Hunter’s actions just last week, he could’ve been in the same exact spot as the boy in front of him. He wouldn’t be here, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his father had just slapped him. Thomas looked away from the guard, staring down at the ground instead.

“Advisor Wells told me to take you to his suite,” the guard said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Thomas nodded before turning away and walking up the stairs. He knew the way to his room; he didn’t know why Matheson had wanted him to have an escort. He heard the footsteps of the guard behind him and he was reminded of a similar situation that he had found himself in just a couple of weeks ago. Then, he had found himself scared to have an Aspayan soldier following him up to the second floor of the Ridgecrest Inn. Now, he was just as scared, though for a very different reason.

His father’s angry face was flooding through his brain, coupled with his raised hand and the pain of the slap against his cheek. Even now, he felt his cheek throbbing, heat spreading across it as blood rushed to the spot where he had been hit. Thomas had been so certain that his father had cared about him, had loved him, had wanted him to be here at the castle by his side.

Now, though, he wasn’t quite sure what to believe. He had hit him. Fathers weren’t meant to do that, right? Then again, Thomas had never had parents. So maybe what had just happened was normal? He thought about Eli, a friend of his back in Ridgecrest, the only friend of Thomas’ that had parents. Eli had never talked to him about his father hitting him. Perhaps, then, what had happened between him and Matheson wasn’t okay.

But he hadn’t listened to what his father had told him to do. He had done the opposite of what his father had wanted. Maybe Matheson hitting him was normal, then. Perhaps it had been meant as a punishment for Thomas not listening to him. Thomas hoped desperately that that was true. Because if it wasn’t, it meant that perhaps his father didn’t love him as much as he had thought. It meant that maybe Matheson didn’t care about him as much as he had claimed.

And so he held onto the hope that it was completely normal for a father to hit their son, to slap him if he did something wrong, to scare him into submission. And he did so if only to protect himself from the thought that he didn’t want relationships with either of his parents, to keep him safe from the fact that he disliked both of his parents, to hide from the idea that maybe he never should have left Ridgecrest, perhaps he should have listened to everyone who had ever told him to stay far away from Matheson.

“Are you okay?” a concerned voice asked him, dragging him quickly up and out of his train of thoughts and back into the present. Thomas couldn’t stop himself from flinching and he looked behind him to find concern flitting into the guard’s eyes. He had completely forgotten about him.

“Y-yeah,” Thomas said shakily. “Sorry, I’m just lost in thought.” Realizing that he didn’t want to think anymore about what had just happened between him and his father, he slowed down until he and the guard were walking together up the stairs and asked, “What’s your name?”

The guard blinked, his concern replaced by confusion instead. “Jackson Moore.”

Thomas’ eyes widened, recognizing the last name immediately. “Are you related to Braya Moore?”

This time, it was Jackson’s eyes that widened. “I am, actually. Do you know her?”

Thomas nodded. “My friend and I ran into her when we left the orphanage I grew up in. When we found out that we were all going to Castle Tascela, we decided to travel together.”

A hesitant smile was beginning to grow on the boy’s face. “Is she okay? Did she tell you why she was traveling here? And what about Abuelita and Jay? Are they both okay?”

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden rush of questions. “Braya’s fine. She’s staying somewhere in the forest besides the castle. My friend, Hunter, knows exactly where she is. She didn’t really tell me much about herself or her family so I have no idea the answers to the rest of your questions.” He frowned, realizing that he had been so caught up with his own desires being fulfilled that he had never thought to ask Braya about herself. “How are you guys related?”

Jackson tilted his head, appearing to be thinking about how to answer that question. “Technically, we’re not. When my parents died, my grandmother took me and my younger brother in. Then, Braya’s parents died and Abuelita decided to take her in as well.” Before Thomas could ask why she had done that, Jackson added, “She was friends with Braya’s parents.”

Thomas nodded, trying to figure out what to say next. Not for the first time in his life, he wished he had Hunter’s ease with words and social settings. Then, he realized that he had failed to introduce himself. “Oh! My name is Th--”

“Thomas Wells, I know,” Jackson interrupted. His words sounded clipped, almost like he was being short with him. Thomas wondered what had caused the sudden change in attitude.

Then, he frowned when he picked up on which last name Jackson had used. Inexplicably, he found himself correcting the boy. “It’s Hayes.” When Jackson’s face screwed up in confusion, he said, “I’m Thomas Hayes, not Wells.” Jackson stayed quiet, staring blankly at the boy. And, as Thomas typically did when he found himself in an awkward social situation, he rambled. “I didn’t grow up with Matheson. Instead, I lived in Ridgecrest Fief. And when my mother sent me to the orphanage, she decided that I should take her maiden name and not my father’s name. So, I’m Thomas Hayes.”

A deep frown was cresting over Jackson’s face. “You grew up in Malin?” Thomas nodded. “When did you find out that Advisor Wells was your father?”

Thomas chuckled lightly. “Funny thing is, only a week ago.”

Jackson blinked and then realization started dawning on his face. What that realization was, Thomas had no idea. Jackson opened his mouth, about to say something, when Thomas discovered that he was standing in front of Matheson’s suite, the pine wreath on the door staring him in the face.

“Here’s my room,” he said, stopping Jackson from saying whatever he had been about to say. “Sorry, did you want to say something?”

Jackson hesitated before shaking his head. “It was nothing. It was nice talking with you, Thomas Hayes.”

Thomas smiled, pleased at the fact that he had used his actual last name and not Matheson’s. He walked through the door, closing it behind him.

Suddenly, he frowned. Why was he so insistent that Jackson call him ‘Hayes’ and not ‘Wells’? Wasn’t it just an hour ago that he had been happy that his father had introduced him as Thomas Wells to Advisor Main? So why had he corrected Jackson just now? Nothing had changed between now and then, right?

Suddenly, a hand came from nowhere, slapping his cheek and making his head turn to the side. He kept it there, frozen, his heartbeat and his breathing feeling as if they had just stopped, the world frozen in time as Thomas processed what had just happened.

His father had slapped him.

Matheson, the man he thought loved and cared for him, had just hit him.

Oh. Something had changed. Something major had shifted in their relationship.

The weight of that realization caused Thomas to stumble back, leaning up against the door he had just closed, leaving him breathless.

He had corrected Jackson because he was trying to distance himself from his father. He didn’t want to use the surname ‘Wells’ because that would mean connecting himself with the man, telling the world exactly who his father was. It was, in some way, claiming that he was proud to call Matheson his father.

But wait, he was proud to call Matheson his father, right? He did want everyone to know that fact, didn’t he? Thomas loved him and Matheson loved him back, wasn’t that what Thomas believed with his full heart?

So why was he trying to distance himself from Matheson?

Because he hit you, a voice whispered in his head. And fathers aren’t--

“They are!” Thomas yelled, pushing himself away from the door and standing up fully. He grabbed his hair with his hands, pushing away the thought that Matheson had done the same thing, he had grabbed him by his hair, he had hit him in the face, he had--

“Shut up!” Thomas shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. But that didn’t get rid of the thoughts running through his head, that didn’t stop the images of his father’s angry face and the memory of his slap from playing out in his mind.

Matheson was supposed to do that, wasn’t he? Thomas didn’t listen to him and had to be punished. So Matheson had gotten angry and he had hit him. That was all correct, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

Or did Thomas have all of this wrong?

Suddenly, he heard shouts from outside in the hallway, dragging him away from his confusing thoughts and allowing him to ignore the questions that he didn’t know how to answer. Thomas turned around, just in time to watch Hunter throw the door open, breathing hard. He closed and locked the door behind him, then looked over at Thomas.

His eyes were filled with anger and determination, a look on his face that reminded Thomas of Matheson’s look from earlier, from when he had yelled at Thomas for his behavior at breakfast, from just before he had slapped Thomas.

And, in much the same way as it had with Matheson, it scared Thomas to his core and it drove away his breath and any thoughts of acting rational, especially when he saw the knife in Hunter’s hand.