They reached the northern shore of Varis Lake after a day of hiking south. Thankfully, Riley’s bow and knowledge of traps ensured they didn’t starve, but grumbling stomachs became frequent. When they reached Varis Lake, Riley and Francis made fishing spears out of branches. They would lure fish toward them with tiny bits of meat and skewer them when they got close. So fish became part of the menu, but meals were still scanty.
Steve couldn’t use any magic for a while after pushing himself so hard, but the first thing he did was heal DJ’s broken arm. DJ was infinitely grateful to remove his splint. His arm still tender and sensitive for days, though—that’s how it is when you heal a broken bone with magic.
But as they put distance between themselves and the cult village, their hearts grew less worried and the forest shrouded them in wonder. They camped by the lake’s edge night after night, hearing the gentle swishing of water lapping against the sand, frogs croaking, and crickets singing. From the forest, the shivering leafs and hooting owls would whisper from the darkness. And each breath of lakeside air was sweet in DJ’s lungs. With each night watch, he reminded himself that he never had this back in Beregond. That made him smile a little.
At last, they saw Varis at the edge of the lake one evening before they settled for the night. They ate a rationed meal of fish, berries, and jackrabbit as they watched the distant lights dance along the darkening water. They fell asleep to the forest’s usual symphony, and the following morning, they broke camp and reached the gates.
Varis was clearly a city brimming with style and function. The gates loomed wide and tall with an elegant arch made from cream-colored stone. The city walls reached nearly fifty feet high with plenty of soldiers stationed along the top. Even the walls looked immaculate, like they were washed and scrubbed daily from top to bottom.
A set of guards frowned at the derelict bunch as they entered the city. The travelers still had their cult robes and weapons, nothing else. And those robes had grown tattered and worn from sleeping in the dirt night after night.
But inside the gates, Varis was everything Sir Dashing had said it would be. Gleaming, beautiful structures were made of timber and white stone. Handsome locals were freshly washed and adorned the latest fashions. They hustled to and fro like a hive of multi-colored bees. DJ saw street performers dancing for gold and barkers selling their wares. The smells of street confections made his stomach groan. It truly was the City at the World’s Center.
It all should have filled DJ with wonder, but the knot in his chest only grew.
The locals stared and turned up their noses as the party walked by. Those unfortunate enough to walk close gagged and coughed at the smell.
Francis leaned toward DJ. “I’m sure we could all use baths.”
DJ nodded stiffly. “Probably.”
“Are you well, young knight? You’ve become sullen since approaching the city.”
“I just want to replace our things and get out of here.”
Francis was quiet, then he said, “It’s your mother, isn’t it?”
DJ gave him a look. “How do you know about that?”
“Miss Riley told me,” Francis said. “It sounds like your mother hasn’t been very present in your life. I’m sorry. But please, don’t let thoughts of her spoil your experience. Varis is a tourist destination—the largest and liveliest city in the territory. Your chances of seeing her are practically nonexistent.”
DJ clenched and released his jaw. “Fine.”
The party reached the central plaza, an even thicker pond of street vendors, minstrels, and busy shoppers. Across the way, DJ noticed the ravenpost tower. This one was made of smooth white stone instead of wood. Ravens popped in and out of its many windows. “Be right back,” he told the others.
He weaved through the crowd and entered the tower. It was cleaner than the other ones he had visited. The tower section was closed off behind a wall that kept the raven smell out. The front desk was wiped clean and the floor was swept.
The druid at the front counter scrunched his nose at DJ’s grubby robes. “Name?”
“DJ of Beregond.”
The druid thumbed through a neatly organized box of letters. He pulled two out. “One arrived eight days ago. The other came yesterday.”
DJ broke the Beregond seal on the first and unfolded it.
Ho there, son!
Same old same old back home. I can’t believe you’ve been gone almost two months now. Has anything interesting happened on your little quest? Or has it felt more like a holiday? I hope it’s the latter and that your new friends are keeping you safe.
The maid was going to clean your room yesterday, but I insisted on doing it myself. You always kept your space so tidy. Your bed still smells like you.
Magic, eh? I always thought you’d take after the sword like your old man. But if that’s what you like, that’s all well and good. Just don’t hurt yourself.
Write me when you arrive in Varis! I know you’re not eager to see your mother, but let me know if you two meet. It may be good for you.
-Sir Dashing
DJ stuffed the first letter in his pocket and unsealed the second.
Ho there, again!
It’s been nearly two weeks and I haven’t gotten a raven from you. Did you arrive in Varis? Are you well?
Please write back as soon as possible. I’m sure you’re fine, but I’m your father. You understand.
-Sir Dashing
DJ’s mouth twitched into a smile. So concerned. DJ was surprised at his father’s response to his magic lessons, too. No discouragement, no imploring to reconsider, just if that’s what you like, that’s all well and good. A smile twitched across his lips again. He stowed the second letter in his pocket and patted it, then turned to leave.
The druid frowned. “No return letter?”
DJ shrugged. “Dude, I’m broke.”
The druid looked him up and down then rolled his eyes. “I should have assumed.”
DJ left the ravenpost tower. He saw his friends gathered in a circle among the crowd. He rushed up to meet them, but in his haste, he failed to see a group of upper-class women cross his path. He collided with the woman in the middle.
“Oh, sorry ma’am!” DJ stammered.
The woman’s friends caught her shoulders to keep her steady. In that moment, DJ saw her. Jet black hair. Bright green eyes. Slender face. It was like looking in a mirror. The only difference was that she was dressed in the silk garbs of a noblewoman, and DJ wore the tarnished robes of a poor traveler.
The two of them stared, suspended in time. The color drained from the woman’s face. Her eyes grew to dinner plates as if DJ was something from a nightmare.
DJ didn’t know how he knew, but he did. His heart fell to his ankles. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
The woman’s legs turned to jelly and her eyes rolled back. Her friends caught her before she hit the ground. They gasped and yipped like frightened birds, fanning her with their gloved hands.
DJ clenched his jaw. “Shit.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
*
“So… this is your…?”
“Yes, Robbert. From long ago.”
“Hm… I see.”
DJ sat with his hands between his thighs at the end of a very long mahogany table. A plate of food was made for him, but his appetite had disappeared a while ago. The amount of elegance surrounding him was raised to a nearly comical level. Furniture carved by artisans across the territory. Marble statues. Polished granite floors. Servants standing at attention at the room’s corners.
At the opposite end of the table, his mother dined with a straight back, picking at her food rather than eating it. To her left was her husband Robbert, with perfectly parted hair, square shoulders, and a dimple in his chin. He wore fine silks just like she did. And to her right, two small children—a boy and a girl—that stared at DJ with curious disdain.
“You know him?” the little boy asked. He pointed with a fat little finger. “Why is he poor?”
“Donicus,” his mother replied. “We don’t talk like that.”
“Trust me, kid,” DJ said, “I’m not happy about this either.”
“You’re the son of Sir Dashing?” Robbert asked, trying to dispel the tension. “The Sir Dashing?”
DJ chased his food around his plate. “The very same.”
“He’s a tremendous man. A living legend.”
“Yeah, I know,” DJ said. “He really knows how to rise to any occasion. Take on certain responsibilities when no one else will.”
DJ stared daggers at his mother. She bristled and didn’t look up, but continued picking at her meager portions. Sensing the losing battle, Robbert cleared his throat.
“I see, well,” he said, “I get the feeling that you two have some catching up to do. We’ll leave you to it. Children?”
“But my supper will get cold!” the girl whined.
“Deirdre, the cook will make you something fresh when mother is done. Come along now.”
With haste, Robbert and his spawn scampered out of the dining room. Their steps reverberated until a pair of double doors opened and slammed behind them. A stiff quiet settled. DJ’s mother dabbed her lips with a napkin and set it on her plate.
For the first time, she mustered the courage to look at him. “What brings you to Varis?”
“I got knighted recently,” DJ said flatly, “so I’m on a quest for the Amulet of the Goddess. Its Temple is on eastern end of the Spine. Varis is along the way, so this is one of our stops.”
“Congratulations,” she said. “Thank the Goddess you’re not venturing for the Brassiere. No one who has entered that Temple has ever lived to tell of it.”
“That’s what I hear,” DJ said impatiently. “Not even dad would try.”
The mention of Sir Dashing had a reaction with DJ’s mother. Her cheeks turned pink and she swallowed. “What… has he told you of me?”
“That your name is Melanie,” DJ began. “You were really young when you two met. You’re the daughter of a noble house in Varis. You ‘weren’t in a position to raise me’ when I was born. That’s why you sent me away. That’s it. With all the women he’s been with, it’s amazing he remembers you.”
Melanie’s lips twitched into a smile. DJ realized his did the same sometimes. Now he hated it. She put her hands in her lap and began her story with a deep breath.
“It was nineteen when I met your father,” Melanie said. “I had been entertaining a line of suitors, but no one I found appropriate for marriage yet. During that time, Sir Dashing defeated an entire outfit of bandits outside the city. My father held a congratulatory banquet for him, and that’s when we met.” She paused. “He always had a natural charisma. Strong. Charming. As a young woman, I was smitten immediately.”
“Oh, tell me about it,” DJ crooned sarcastically as he reached for some wine. “I’ve nearly fallen for him myself.”
“When I found out I was pregnant, my father was mortified,” Melanie said. “You must understand nobility in Varis. There are eight noble houses, and we are only allowed to marry and grow children with one another. Anything outside of that is scandal, even if it is someone as respected as Sir Dashing.”
“So you’ve got some upper-class inbreeding going on. Lovely.”
“I didn’t leave my father’s home for a year. Anyone who asked was told that I was bed-ridden with an illness. The truth was, he knew what my little mistake could do to our family. My lack of restraint would bring shame to our house. If people knew, it would have ruined our standing. So you grew inside me in secret.”
Mistake. The word made DJ’s fingers flex around his goblet.
“Then you were born,” Melanie said. “It pained me to do it, but our servants carried you hundreds of miles to Beregond and delivered you to Sir Dashing. And being the noble, brave man he is, he agreed to raise you. And now you’re here.” She paused and took a cleansing breath. “I must beg your forgiveness.”
DJ shrugged and swished his goblet. “Go ahead then. Beg.”
Melanie frowned. “You must understand how difficult that decision was for me.”
“Yeah, sounds hard,” DJ swished the wine some more. “But nearly sixteen years have gone by, Melanie. Where have you been?”
Melanie shriveled slightly. “You still don’t understand. A woman of my position—”
“Sixteen! Years!” DJ cried. “I’m nearly at the age of manhood! You mean to tell me in all those years you couldn’t come visit or at least send some ravenpost? Not even once?”
Melanie’s jaw tightened. “You’re not being fair.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” DJ slammed the goblet on the table. “I grew up without a mother because you cared more about your reputation than raising me. I grew up thinking—no, knowing—that your position in society was more important than I was.” A pause. “And what about dad? He easily could have adventured for ten or twenty more years. Could have saved every village in Uh twice over. But he retired early for me. The most famous knight in Uh! Done in his prime! And what were you doing? Attending charity dinners and wearing designer dresses? Getting on with your life like I never existed? And somehow I’m not being fair?”
Silence crushed them. Melanie quelled a tremor in her lip. “I know what I did was wrong.”
“Glad we agree on that.”
“But what would you have me do now?”
“At this point? Nothing.” DJ drank from his goblet. “You know what? Strike that. My friends and I need adventure packs and clothing. Ours were stolen. Being part of a noble family, I’m sure you could spare the coin, couldn’t you?”
Melanie nodded. “It shall be done.”
“Good.”
Melanie turned to one of her servants. “Bring him some coin.” They didn’t speak until the servant returned with five bulging sacks of gold. “Looks to be about five thousand. Will that suffice?”
DJ ogled at the five sacks and tried to restrain his awe. A thousand each. It was so easy to her, and this was more money than he had seen on his entire journey. He snatched two sacks and pushed out his chair.
“This will be enough,” he said. He stood up. “Are we done?”
Melanie nodded faintly. “All I ask is that—”
“Is that I don’t reveal my identity as your son. Then it would be scandal all over again. So, in a way, this is hush money.”
Melanie fell quiet. That was all the confirmation DJ needed. He forced out a laugh and shook his head.
“Looks like you never changed.” He started for the door, but stopped. “Melanie, there are only two people in my life that have ever made me feel like I’m worth anything. One is a girl named Riley. The other is my dad. He’s not perfect—he’s really distracted by his past heroics—but he’s always been there for me. Tried to show me that I was okay when no one else did.” A pause. “He’s actually a really good dad.”
His heart pricked when he said the words. The thought had never dawned on him until this moment. And with that thought, a dozen memories sped through his mind. The time Sir Dashing surprised him with a stuffed dog toy. The time Sir Dashing comforted him when DJ’s bullies reduced him to tears. The time Sir Dashing pulled DJ out of a battle instruction class because he hated every moment of it.
Hundreds of miles away from home, DJ realized that Sir Dashing was a good father. He really was.
DJ felt his throat knot, so he coughed it free. “Bye, Melanie. Good luck with your life.”
She didn’t say anything as he walked out the door.
DJ squinted against the sunlight. Down the courtyard path he went until he reached the main gates, passing perfectly manicured shrubbery and flowers. A servant opened the exit for him. Right outside the gate, Riley, Steve, and Francis sat against the fence, looking remarkably like beggars. As soon as DJ joined them, Riley popped up from her spot.
“How did it go? Are you okay?” She spotted the sacks. “Whoa. That’s a lot of gol—”
DJ dropped the sacks and threw his arms around her. Riley was only surprised for a second, then melted into it. She held him and rocked him back and forth, stroking his hair, whispering to him. “It’s okay, DJ. It’s okay.”
DJ tried to hold back the sobs, but they escaped in restrained bursts. Those little arms and brown hair were familiar. They never left him behind or went away, no matter how difficult. Riley was there. She was always there.
A shadow cast over them as Francis got up and encased them in his big green arms. Then Steve got to his feet and plastered himself across the group. Together, they cocooned DJ in a warm embrace. And in his chest, his heart settled.
Here, in the arms of his friends, he wasn’t forgotten.