If Alistar recalled correctly, this county had nearly half the population of the entire Kingdom of Civus. Only the highest ranking bishops were appointed joint rulership of the territories within the Land of One Hundred Counties, as such seats of power were usually reserved for archbishops and cardinals. This meant that whoever this Bishop Maels was, he was likely a senior bishop with many years of service under his belt.
“Do you think he’ll agree to your petition?”
Caedmon looked upon those at the table with hopeful eyes. “Bishop Maels is relatively young for someone of his office, so he might not be so set in his ways as an old fogey like Rendel. Apparently he’s a man of great wisdom, so surely he will see the value of the printing press and what wonders it could do for the empire.”
Alder nodded in agreement. “Rumours say that he convinced Victor the Godless to convert to Lucianism—for those who don’t know, that’s the king of Cessia—which was something that nobody ever thought possible. If he had the wit and the foresight to do that, then surely he’ll leap at the chance to make the scriptures more accessible for the common folk.”
The other adults at the table donned a collective look of shock, all of them commenting on the unexpected feat that this Maels had accomplished. As a prominent royal within Baldor’s borders, Victor the Godless was quite a famous enemy of the empire, and his conversion could change the political landscape of the continent.
“That’s not the only good news,” said Alder, who stood up and came to stand behind Madeline’s chair. “I think it’s about time that we announce that Little Lauren will have a friend in the not-too-distant future.”
Anice straightened up in her seat, turning to Madeline with bright eyes. “You mean…?”
“Yes,” smiled the sweet-faced woman, “Alder and I are expecting.”
“You dog, you,” said Stason, who stood up and clapped a beaming Alder on the back before giving Madeline a congratulatory hug.
“This is wonderful news,” said Patricia, who was currently nursing her child beneath an obscuring blanket. “If you two have a son, why not wed him to our Little Lauren?”
“Let’s not get carried away just yet,” said Stason, who quickly spoke out against his lover. “Why, this calls for a celebration!”
Caedmon nodded, his smile wide and full of warmth. “I’m of the same mind. To be graced by so much good news in a single day, I think I’ll hold a hearty banquet tomorrow. How does that sound? Of course,” he added, glancing at the surrounding house servants, “everyone on the property will be participating.”
The room erupted into a chorus of happy comments, Anice bubbling with excitement when her father permitted her to invite the Dozen along to join in on the festivities. Everyone took turns congratulating Alder and Madeline on their recent conception, the air of happiness continuing on throughout the rest of the morning meal.
Seeing how happy Alder and Madeline appeared left Alistar feeling very content, since he held a deep love and respect for both of them. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever get the chance to sire a child, to build a happy life with a woman that he loved without any worries or anxieties to plague his pursuit of a peaceful life.
High though his spirits were, they were dragged down by a subtle, sobering awareness that such a life would likely remain forever out of his reach. Whether or not his plan to rescue Kaila succeeded in the end, the sheer attempt would assure that he would become a fugitive, forever hiding from the eyes of the lord of Melsian and those that he served. With such thoughts in mind, Alistar planned to make another trip to the hidden cave by the day’s end, anxious over whether or not he had left enough food for the madman to subsist off of at the time of his previous visit.
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Staring at the happy faces that surrounded him, Alistar felt a bit of self-pity in his heart, wishing nothing more than to be able to revel in the wonders of life like the rest of his loved ones. Unfortunately for him, less than a year remained before he would likely say goodbye to the estate that he had come to call home, along with all of the amazing people that he’d grown to view as his family.
***
A month had passed since the celebratory banquet, a night that had seen Alistar receive his second kiss. This time around it had been at the hands of a nervous yet resolute Lessa, who had recently learned that he and Anice had already shared a similar moment of intimacy after the fact had been made known to the rest of their friends.
The moment was still fresh in his mind, the subtle taste of fruit that had clung to her soft, prodding lips, the shyness that they had shown in the quiet, empty hallway of the manor’s second floor and the sweet, bashful glances that she had sent his way after they had returned to the dining hall to rejoin with the others. Anice hadn’t been happy to hear about what had happened, and was still giving him the cold shoulder even after so many weeks had passed.
“What a predicament,” he sighed to himself, swinging his wooden sword around amidst a light amount of rainfall. “Perhaps this is a curse that plagues all Silverkins?”
It was currently late in the evening, the other members of the household all holed up within the manor house in light of the coming storm. Alistar would normally have remained inside as well, but he had recently learned an interesting spell from the madman within the cave, whose identity he was all but certain of.
Unstable though he was, the man displayed an extremely vast wealth of knowledge when it came to swordplay and battle magics, having taught Alistar many things in regards to the latter during the long hours that they spent in one another’s company at the end of every other week. The most recent spell that he had learned was a basic detection spell, which accentuated one’s magical awareness so that a person could catch on to the presence of others even if the individuals in question were relying on a particular method to mask their life signal. Peculiarly, not long after he had successfully cast the spell for the first time an odd sensation had settled in his heart that had left him quite on edge in recent days.
On several occasions he had thought he’d sensed a subtle life signal from nearby, whether he was in town, by the Greyline with his friends, or going about his daily life at the estate. He was only ever able to sense this miniscule signal for a few fleeting moments before it would flicker like the waning flame of a dying candle, always disappearing from his perceptions as if it had never been there in the first place. This had grown to bother him quite greatly, for the other spells that the madman had taught him had functioned exactly as described, which left him quite confident that there was no problem with this newest skill of his. Even so, no matter how much he observed his surroundings, he never caught sight of anyone around the places where he perceived this strange signal, which made him wonder if he was just being paranoid.
Today the unpleasant feeling had been worse than ever, so he had decided to work off some steam by practicing his swordsmanship, intent on running through his usual exercises amidst the inevitable downpour in an effort to clear his mind. He had practiced in the rain before, and so long as his swordsman’s aura remained active, he could enjoy a decent stint of training without having to worry about growing sick beneath the precipitation’s cooling touch. This served as its own form of practice, for only specific arrangements of this energy could repel the water as if it were a truly uniform surface.
As evening came to an end and the sky continued to darken, Alistar experienced a chill that had nothing to do with the heavy rainfall that was now pelting the ground in dense, windy layers. He was no stranger to this feeling, but this was the first time that he had felt it outside of the forests that surrounded Distan. His body was telling him that he had caught the eye of a predator, or at least that had been the case on all other occasions.
Keep calm, he told himself, continuing on with his sword swings where he stood atop an empty plot of kempt lawn about thirty paces from the floral arrangements that lined the estate’s southern walls.
Someone was watching him, and not with friendly eyes.