Alistar closed the door to his room, resting his head against the polished wood with a sigh. He and his family had just returned from a particularly zealous session of mass, during which time the local bishop, Bishop Rendel, had dedicated the entirety of his sermon to denouncing the demons that were so universally hated in every household within the county. Alistar had thought it cruel, since Mr. Herst, Ruk, and several other Drunaeda had also been in attendance, all of them drawing negative attention as the bishop delivered one inflammatory speech after another about the deeds of demons past. By the end of the sermon, dozens of the hundreds in attendance had openly harassed the descendants of the Drunaeda in order to have them leave first, lest they all walk side by side down the great flight of stone steps that led out of the imposing, artful architecture that defined the local cathedral.
From the kind bakers to the rugged blacksmiths, from the talented shoemakers to the independent stall owners that ran their businesses within the market square—Alistar had lost much respect for many people today. It made no sense in his mind how somebody could fully understand the concept of good and evil, the notions of nice and nasty, to claim to live by these creeds and yet completely ignore them when it came to people that looked differently than they did. People that Alistar was friends with.
Turning around, he walked over to his night table and slipped off the silver necklace that he’d received on the day of his First Communion with Lucian, his oval, as it was called. Leaving it on the table, he walked over to his dresser, opened its bottom drawer and then dug the cherished memento from his mother out of its hiding spot. He much preferred this necklace, what with its beautiful floral carvings and the little butterflies that he knew his mother would have found very pleasant. Opening it to make sure that both of his treasured crystals were still safely stowed within, he clasped it shut and then carefully put it back on, feeling as if a lost part of his body had just rejoined with the whole.
Anice had thrown a fit because he’d been mostly talking to Lessa all throughout their walk home, wedging her way between them as they happened to pass by a muddy, springtime puddle. If his cousin hated anything it was being ignored by her friends, which Alistar had overlooked as he’d been lost in his nervous conversation with the other girl. She was such a sweet and considerate person that he couldn’t help but look forward to their conversations every time he hung out with the Dozen, who he’d been seeing more often than not lately. Lessa attended mass every Sunday and sometimes had dinner at the estate, while Zech and Jaden trained with him on most evenings. Corrie stopped by often to borrow books from his uncle’s library, and Woods and the girls were constantly inviting him to either roam around town or to relax at The Spot by the Greyline River.
Thinking of this peaceful, methodic lifestyle was something that usually left him in poor spirits. He would be thirteen in a few months, which meant that Kaila would be fifteen before the year was out. The only way that she wouldn’t have been met with a crisis by now was if Talon had managed to survive and remain healthy, which was possible considering that he had always been particularly robust and that he should only have been in his mid-forties. Still, the mines were a dangerous place and they took a heavy toll on even the greatest of men. His father was a prime example.
Feeling helpless despite all of the progress he had made in both his studies and his training, Alistar stripped out of his clothes and tossed them into the wicker basket where he kept his dirty laundry, staring down at a finger-length scar in the centre of his abdomen. About a month back, Zech had accidently used too much of his swordsman’s aura during a particularly intense bout of sparring, and had given Alistar quite the grievous wound. Luckily he had become so proficient at using his basic mending spell that its effects now far eclipsed its traditional purposes. From what he could see as proven by his handling of the dangerous injury, it was more in line with an advanced magic spell.
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I can only thank the guys for giving me so many opportunities to use my magics. Frowning, he traced a thumb over the discoloured stretch of skin. How many scars will my body have in the future?
The profound thought was cut short when his door abruptly swung open, Anice walking inside wearing a clean dress of thick, scarlet fabric beneath a warm winter shawl of a slightly darker shade.
“Alie, are you coming to eat? Everyone’s waiting—” Her words transitioned into a high-pitched squeal as she saw him standing there unclothed.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, Anne,” he said, blushing slightly. “Knock before you enter someone’s room!”
“I—I’m sorry,” she said, failing to fully cover her eyes with an uncooperative hand. “I’ll knock! I’ll knock next time!”
He had frozen up from the shock, but collected himself quickly and covered his lowers with his hands. “I can see you peaking through your fingers. Stop looking and get out of my room!”
“I’m sorry!”
She rushed off and fled upstairs with rapid steps. Tracking her aura as she left—as it had only just now become apparent in his perceptions—he found himself wishing that his teacher had never taught her how to mask it.
Feeling how red his face was, he relied on the meditation method that he used to cultivate his swordsman’s aura and gradually calmed his mind. The situation had already occurred and there was nothing that he could do about it. For now, it was best to put it behind him and head to the dining hall to join the others for lunch.
Dressing himself in a thick pair of woolen trousers and a heavy shirt of white cotton, he slipped on some warm stockings and quickly left the room. He arrived at the dining hall a short while after to find Anice and Lessa, who had come with them from the cathedral, alongside Stason and Patricia, the latter’s belly now noticeably swollen and rounded. They said that she would likely go into labour in three to four months’ time, something that Alistar wasn’t keen on being present for after reading up on the process of birth-giving.
“Oho, here he is now,” smiled Stason, who patted the empty seat at his side. “Here, Alistar. Have a seat.” As had been his preferences as of late, the man’s face was clean shaven and his hair shorn short, lean limbs dressed in casual cottons.
Alistar greeted everyone and sat down between Stason and Lessa, noticing that his cousin’s face still hadn’t lost its colour. Judging from everyone else’s expressions, she hadn’t told them about what had just happened.
“Just for you,” smiled Madeline, who placed a bowl of sliced apples beside the fried eggs, potatoes and beef that had been carefully arranged on a thin silver plate. She was now laying the last of their lunch upon the table, dressed in her usual black skirts beneath a white apron, helped by a younger house servant by the name of Janine.
Caedmon had forbidden Patricia from working while pregnant, so she had been taking things easy within the household since her child’s conception last fall. Today, she was dressed in a warm and comfortable dress the same sable colour as her shiny hair, her swollen belly doing nothing to take away from her beauty.
“Thank you Madeline. Have you and Janine already eaten?”
“We’ll eat after you all are finished.”
“No, no. You eat with us.”
Janine, who was new to the estate, seemed uncomfortable at the idea. “We mustn’t eat with you and the young miss, M’lord.” Her modest, freckled face was a bit flushed, her eyes uncertain as she stood at the ready beside a cart laden with additional foods and refreshments. Despite her words, her bright blue eyes kept idling over the trey in a way that betrayed her hunger.
“I’m no lord,” he said, a bit embarrassed at her form of address. “Besides, Uncle Caedmon will be meeting with Mr. Danper and some other colleagues today, so there’s no need to be so formal. Please, we’d be happy for you to join us.”
The new girl looked at him as if he were a strange creature, but her expression quickly softened as Madeline pulled a chair out for her and carefully fixed her a plate. Looking down at the food with drooling eyes, Janine let out a light gulp and then gave him a grateful smile. “If you insist, M’lord, then I won’t turn you down.”