Torin and I finished our tea in relative silence. Talking about such heavy topics so early in the morning will do that to an individual. Leaving each of us to our own thoughts and fears. Though I still haven’t processed how I felt about the reminder of my terrible past, I couldn’t help but think over what Torin said about me having sway with the other Bastards.
After the escape, when I started talking again, I found a supportive group of people who were willing to accept me as their own. I responded to their great kindness by dedicating my life to their ways of life with their members becoming my family. I went on to train to be the best Flyer I could, which took me and my brothers throughout the country. Eventually, between my natural talent with a blade and my training with the Guild, I became the youngest Bastard to be inducted since the Age of Great Union, almost a century ago. Plus, the Chief of the Tavern suddenly losing his partner and acquiring a daughter was the talk of the Guild for quite some time. Such a journey and alias has given me a minute reputation throughout the Guild, and specifically with the people of the Tavern.
It would seem that Torin is hoping to use that to his advantage today.
I looked over to my brother, the future Chief, and saw him staring off, his attention flicking about the room, caught up in his own thoughts as well. He took a silent sip. Perhaps he is starting to feel the pressure of authority that Father was feeling as well. As Torin downed his final bit of tea, he placed his mug down between us and stretched, preparing himself to get up.
“I’ll go get ready,” Torin said, putting out his arm towards me slightly. “Jonah and I will be back before daybreak for the meeting.”
“Of course,” I said, leaning into the half-hug. Leaving his cup between us, Torin got up from his pillow and left without further ado.
I stayed seated in front of the fireplace for a little while longer, enjoying the warmth it bathed over me as I started to finally wake up in the peace of my own company. Something that came from being kept in isolation and proceeding to be silent for seasons was my comfort in being alone; something that the Stone family constantly came together to combat against. This is because sometimes that comfort can turn against you and take you to dark places. Places like a dark keep, deep in the Northern Mountains.
I shook my head at the thought, attempting to dislodge the memory of the lonely view of the mountains from my prison. I downed the last of my tea and grabbed my brother’s abandoned mug. Shifting my center I rolled myself back slightly and then pushed myself forward, standing up to stretch before confronting the day. I took the mugs to the kitchen and proceeded to rinse them quickly from my water bladder and wipe the clay mugs down before leaving them to dry.
Leaving the kitchen area, I went over to the side of the loft ladder, opposite of the little reading nook of my cabin stood a tall wooden cabinet that held my various weapons and gear with a large wooden chest resting beside it, holding my clothes and riding gear. I first opened the chest and inspected the few pieces of clothing I had, with some needing a good washing. Each was made for me by a member of the Guild, a few even made by me. I grabbed a linen blouse and tough trousers then closed the chest with a solid thud.
As I pulled my linen blouse and trousers, I couldn’t help but note that I was feeling a bit more at ease as the soothing tea seeped through me after the night terror. Was it talking it over with Torin, or was it my familiarity with the terror, the memory of that night? I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the soothing leaves of the peace plant in the tea that helped ground me. It grew in every corner of the Guild and helped many with their various ailments. It even helped me over the cycles, relaxing me when all I wanted to do was scream.
Once I was dressed, I sidestepped so that I was in front of the wooden cabinet where one of my belts hung from a small hook on the door with the other lying abandoned on the floor; it would seem I was a little drunker last night than I thought if I couldn’t even get my belts properly hung up; I don’t even remember putting the blades away before climbing up to bed. I picked up the belt off the floor and draped it over my left shoulder so that it hung loosely in waiting. The belt held a dagger sheath that bumped against my back as I moved to open the two doored cabinet and revealed some of my most prized possessions.
Straps and sheaths hung from the inside of the cabinet doors and swung slighting as I looked at the display to choose my day’s loadout. On the back wall of the cabinet hung swords of various lengths, with each blade held up on display by nails and leather thongs that cushioned the blades resting place. A shortsword hung on each side of the cabinet with a dagger above each. In the center, as if framed by the rest, hung a longsword with runes stretching down the blade and a jeweled pommel. It was the Moor family sword, another victim of my birth brother’s selfish decisions to get himself out of debt.
The Moor family sword had been passed from father to son for generations, dating back to the time of the Great Union. Unfortunately, desperate people do desperate things when they are drowning in their own mistakes; Lanzo sold the sword, along with other family mementos as a way to pay off ill-placed bets in the fighting pit. Torin, Jonah and I were Flyers at the Farm when I learned from a Guild spy that my lord brother had sold off this invaluable family heirloom and he thought of it being pawned off made my skin crawl, so with the help of my Stone brothers, we stole the sword from the newest person my lord brother was in debt to, a greasy owner of a fighting pit that opened in the Moorlands. Using our newfound Guild espionage skills learned at the Farm, we found that stealing the longsword was relatively easy.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
After we stole it, we went back to the Tavern and presented the sword to Father, the bastard son of Lord Kamon Moor, but he refused. The sword wasn’t meant for a Crown’s bastard like him, it should go to the intended heir of Lord Leon Moor, me. It was the day I learned that my birth father was planning on naming me as his heir to the Moorlands when I came of age, breaking with the tradition of naming his eldest son, my selfish birth brother. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he died before he was able to fulfill his wish.
I took a moment and grabbed the ends of the belt on my left shoulder and fastened them so the belt draped across my chest and rested on the opposite hip. I adjusted the dagger sheath so it rested in the curve of my spine. I grabbed one of the sheaths that were pre-strapped and hung on the cabinet door. I hiked my foot up onto the chest to my right and attached the thin dagger sheath to my right thigh. Standing up, I shook my leg lightly, making sure that the straps held. I finished strapping in by grabbing the final belt hanging on the front cabinet door around my waist. Satisfied, I finished my armoring.
I reached into the cabinet and removed the top left dagger, a gift from Jonah when I became a Bastard, and slipped it into the sheath that rested on the curve of my back. I then grabbed the left most shortsword, the first sword I bought with my own cogs, and sheathed it at my hip. I reached for my final weapon, the top right dagger. As I removed the dagger and went to place the dagger in its home attached to my thigh, I couldn’t help but stop and admire the blade’s handle, just as I did in my night terror last night.
After making my way through the tunnel, away from Kasrad’s keep, I found Sabine’s sect of Bastards and they brought me to the Tavern. Though safe for the first time, the blade never left my hand. I was forced to live defenseless for too long, that I decided I was never going to be caught defenseless again. The blade has long since been replaced with a stiletto blade, but the kitchen knife handle has served me well in many scraps through the cycles, just as it had that night.
Finally outfitted with my various blades, I gave a final stretch, letting my gear settle into place. There was no threat for me within the safety of the Guild, but I have since become someone who would prefer to always be prepared, just in case. Plus, with the country continuously slipping into chaos, it was only a matter of time before chaos struck those I love, or me.
As I finished getting ready, I looked out to see that the sky was starting to warm from deep black to a dark blue. I still had time before the meeting was going to begin. I walked to the reading nook and grabbed carved pipe resting on the middle shelf. Beside it was a clay pot, similar to the one I kept in the kitchen, instead this held the dried flower of the peace plant. The plant would help keep my head focused on the here and now. Removing the clay lid, I grabbed a small pinch of the crumbled flower and placed it into the pipe.
Crossing the room, I made my way back over to the chimney and grabbed a twig from the bucket beside the fire. The tiny flames were finishing their dance beneath the empty cooking rack, with a glowing floor of embers. I carefully lit the long twig in the flames and lit the contents within my pipe. After a few puffs to ensure it was lit, I rose from my crouch and made my way outside, leaving the fire to slowly burn out and keep the cabin warm.
As I crossed the cabin’s threshold, the sounds of the forest enveloped me in its comforting embrace. The limbs above me shifted slightly in the breeze as songbirds began their day. I settled into one of the two rocking chairs on the porch, leaving space for when my brothers finally joined me. Just like everything else around The Tavern, they were a piece of art. Beautifully carved designs worked into the chair’s armrests. I bought the pair off a Laborer with some of my Bastard earnings. I knew that it would be perfect for the cabin porch and would serve me well. If I was honest though, the carvings reminded me of a similar design used in the capital of the Moor Lands, a place that used to be home. I rocked myself back and forth while listening to the songs of the forest, taking puffs from the pipe as I waited for my brothers to join me.
It wasn’t long before Torin and Jonah walked down the stone path. As they entered the clearing, Jonah sped up slightly, once again leaving Torin in his wake. He was quickly at the cabin and took the stairs two at a time. I smiled at my brother as he wordlessly approached and embraced his sister, even with me still sitting. With a single strong squeeze, I could feel that Torin told him about my night terror. Though I was momentarily mad that Torin told him, Jonah in typical fashion, silently affirmed his love and support in one gesture, erasing my annoyance at Torin in an instant. As he pulled away, I handed Jonah the peace pipe in thanks.
“How was the evening with you and yours?” I asked.
“It was great,” Jonah said then took a few puffs from the pipe. “Astor was busy using the bag of feathers I collected for her doll while Valery and I practiced his knife work to help with his Flyer training,” Jonah added as he handed the pipe to Torin, who finally joined us on the cabin porch.
Torin gladly accepted the pipe and took a long pull before speaking. “And Mala?” Torin asked.
“Tired,” Jonah said worriedly. “All the fields are close being prepped so she is busy as ever getting ready for planting.”
Each of us wordlessly settled in various spots on the porch. Jonah leaned against the post beside me with Torin sitting on the porch steps. Each of us taking the time to simply looked out into the forest and enjoy the calm of the pre-morning, passing the peace pipe from one sibling to the next. As the pipe’s contents burnt out, we knew it was time to leave. After emptying the pipe’s contents, I left it on the table between the two rockers and together we walked down the path to the Bastard’s Lodge.