“Young master, you need to get up.”
A well-dressed butler gently nudged a youth sprawled across the fine sheets of a large bed. The request fell on deaf ears, the youth blithely continuing to doze on without a care. The only sign that he had registered his butler’s meager attempts at rousing him was a slight shift as he moved to escape the minor irritation.
“Mmmnn..” he mumbled.
The butler nudged him again, this time a little more forcefully.
“You need to wake up. The Lord will be most displeased if you do not show up on time.” He urged. “You still need to be dressed and fitted. Your brother is already downstairs eating his breakfast. If you don’t hurry now you won’t be able to eat!”
“Give me.. A couple of minutes..” the boy mumbled, pulling the covers over himself.
The butler sighed in exasperation and walked to the other side of the room. He grabbed the drapes covering the window and pulled them apart. Rays of bright light spilled into the room and onto the sleeping youth’s bed, much to his displeasure.
“Ahh!” he cried, the sudden light blinding him, “Edwiiin!”
He shielded his face with his arm, protecting his eyes from the sunlight.
“What was that for?!” he whined.
Edwin took a step back and stood straight with a hand clasped behind his back.
“You needed to get up. I figured you would prefer a little bit of light to having your father scold you again. Wouldn’t you agree?” he remarked. “Now come on Amon, we need to get you dressed.”
Amon sat on his bed bleary-eyed. He didn’t have the energy for this. Getting up early was one thing but having to wear leathers and a tunic was too much. He groaned internally. The fitting alone took forever!
“We can skip the gambeson and leathers. A tunic should be enough.” He yawned as he stretched his arms up. “And that curtain thing was uncalled for. I was going to get up!”
Edwin raised a brow. “If you say so, but I am afraid I am going to have to insist on wearing your full attire. Your father made it a point. I do not know how serious he was, but I also do not believe tempting him is wise.”
Amon rolled his eyes. Father was being dramatic.
“Come off it Edwin, a gambeson? I’m not even going to be fighting! The Lauu don’t hurt people. Mother already told me, this is completely unnecessary.”
Edwin sighed. “It’s just a gambeson, Amon. And you’d better wear it too, unless you want your father to force you to don a set of plate mail. If the city guard can do it, so can you.”
Sulking, Amon got out of his bed. Edwin was right of course, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Edwin shook his head. “If you’d put in half the effort into your training and studies as you did in resisting them, you’d be named Eden Foile by now.”
He moved Amon over to the dresser, pulling out his garments.
“I don’t see how dressing up in 3 different layers would make me famous.”
Really, getting dressed at the crack of dawn wasn’t going to make a difference one way or another. Edwin motioned Amon to hold out his arms. He complied, and Edwin began to dress him in his gear.
“It isn’t about the outfit. You have twice your brother's talent but only use a quarter of it.” Edwin fastened the straps with a grunt. “You might be ahead of the average noble still, but talented scions will leave you in the dust.”
“What’s so wrong with that,” he grumbled.
Edwin paused from the fitting and looked up at him sharply.
“Don’t let your father catch you saying that.” he pursed his lips. “I get that it may be hard, but he asks nothing that you cannot accomplish.”
Amon sighed, “Fine. Fine, I get it. Happy? Now Let’s get downstairs. Maybe I can grab a roll or two from the kitchen before Father finds me.” Edwin tightened the final straps on his outfit before stepping back.
“There. Now you look nice and proper.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Amon replied as he stepped out of the room. Edwin followed a respectable distance behind him.
“Are Mother and Father downstairs?” he asked.
“My Lady was eating with your brother downstairs. I have not seen Lord Falwyn at all today. I imagine he is outside preparing the horses.” Edwin replied.
Amon look at Edwin in surprise. “What? Why would he be doing that? We have a stable boy, plus the servants can load whatever we need.”
“It is an important trip. Some things are better done yourself.”
“For the last time, I told you I was going to get up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Amon and his butler rounded the corner and the entrance to the kitchen was visible a bit further ahead. At least now he could have some food as he was pestered.
“So you keep reminding me. Enough of that anyway, stay here, I’ll grab some food.”
He opened the door quietly, tiptoeing around the crack he opened. On the other side of the room two servants were busy stirring a large pot and preparing Mother’s tea and a basket of rolls sat on an exposed counter next to the door. Probably to be sent to the mess hall for the guards. He grinned. Perfect.
He quickly stuffed a roll in his mouth and grabbed another two to take with him. He was silently making his way back to the door when something hit the back of his head with a small thunk.
“Mmpgh!” He exclaimed; his mouth still full. He quickly gulped it down. “Ow! What the hell?!”
He looked down at the floor at the red object that had smacked him. An apple. Uh-oh. He’d been had.
“Tha’s my line you lil’ thief!”a voice yelled. One of the servants had interrupted his heist – a portly middle-aged woman that moved with a vigor that could put the servants to shame. She was wildly swinging a wooden spoon in her hand.
“Thos’re for the mess! Get yer hands off o’ em!”
Amon raised his hands in mock surrender. The fact that both were holding a roll wasn’t helping his case. “Hilda, please! I’m already late, I had to grab a snack before setting off!” he pleaded.
The other servant girl next to her giggled softly. Hilda eyed him briefly before lowering the spoon.
“Eighteen summers already? Coulda sworn yer troublemaking ass was barely 10 summer’s old jus’ yesterday.”
She looked him up and down again. She threw her hands up in the air before turning around.
“Then get goin! An’ don’t let me catch you pilferin’ ‘ere again! An you Marie! Get back to stirrin that pot!”
The other girl hastily turned back as well, stirring with renewed vigor.
“Thanks! It won’t happen again!” He said as he moved to leave the kitchen.
“I doubt it.” She grunted.
Closing the door behind him, he was greeted by a bemused looking Edwin, who merely raised an inquisitive brow.
Amon sighed as he covered his face. “Never mind, let’s just go.”
He quickly scarfed down his other two rolls and continued walking as Edwin trailed after him, making their way downstairs. The finely carved staircase was a bit gaudy to Amon, etched with age-old designs that accentuated the arboreal roots of their family, but Mother adored it. At least it wasn’t studded with jewels. He shuddered. Some of the other noble houses had zero sense of decor.
They continued walking until they reached the great hall. Having arrived at their destination, Edwin took his leave, and Amon entered.
He found Mother inside, sipping her morning tea as she lounged in a chair beside a large dining table. Her caramel hair spilled over her shoulder, and her soft, unblemished skin glowed in the early morning light. Her beauty was a stark contrast to his father’s rugged and hard demeanor. A difference that he appreciated.
Aine Falwyn was the daughter of Margrave Venett in the north of the kingdom and had married his father to bring the houses closer together. Word had it that his grandfather had fought together with the previous head of the Venett against the incursion by Laiton decades ago.
His brother was there too, engrossed in yet another rusticated tome as he sat next to mother. Unsurprisingly, it was his mother that noticed him enter first. She rushed over and embraced Amon as tightly she could.
“Oh my, Amon! Look at you, all prepared for your trip! You look positively dashing sweetheart! Oh! Your outfit makes you seem like a young squire, all prim and proper.” She said.
“Motheeer! Let me go, I’m not a child!” He said as he tried to worm his way out of her arms. Her grip was iron, and he made no progress despite his resistance. He really was slacking in his training.
“Enough dear, let the boy go. He’s right. You keep coddling him.” Said a voice from behind them.
His father, Demore Falwyn stood in the doorway, cutting an imposing figure with his muscled and toned body - visible despite the set of leathers and tunic he had also donned. A short, well-kempt black beard decorated his scarred face.
“Psh. I dote on him a little now and again.” Mother complained. Even so, she released him. Thankfully.
Father snorted. “Whatever. Time to go Amon, we haven’t got all day.”
He glanced at his outfit.
“And it seems you wore some proper gear this time.” He nodded approvingly.
His brother, Pon, finally tore his eyes away from his book upon hearing his father’s remarks.
“What?! You guys are going now?” He said.
“We still have to grab some supplies from the town, but yes, we’ll be heading out right after.” His father replied.
“I should be coming too! I’ve been reading all about the Lauu in the books. I’m just as ready as Amon is.” He complained.
His father smiled, “And I’m sure you are but you have to be of age, Pon. It’s how it’s always been. Last I checked, you still had 4 more summers to go.”
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Amon ruffled his hair and grinned. “You’ll have your go at it soon enough. I’ll be back in before you know it, Pon. Stay out of trouble when I’m gone!”
His cheeks puffed out, pouting, “You’re the one who keeps getting me in it.”
He bid Pon and Mother goodbye and moved to follow Father outside the manor. He led us around the mansion towards the stables, where two horses were already properly outfitted and ready. Amon put a foot in the stirrups and hoisted himself up grabbing the reins as he had been taught.
He called out to his father. “Where to?”
His father motioned toward a cobblestone path leading away from the manor. “The town. Some things need to be picked up.”
His father set off down the road, Amon trailing right behind him. He could feel the wind whipping past him as they gained speed, winding down the cobblestone road. The manor of the Lord of Bellborough stood perched atop a hill overlooking the town, and he could see that the hustle and bustle of daily routine was well under way.
About half an hour later Amon and his father reached the entrance of the town, a small gate built into the walls manned by a few of the town’s guardsmen. He pulled his horse to a stop alongside his Father as they both dismounted. He heard a holler on the ramparts of the small gateway.
”Lord Falwyn!” A voice called out from atop. “Nice to be seein you again. And you brought Amon! Mornin, Amon!” The sandy hair colored watchman waved. Another figure cuffed his ear from behind, muttering something in his ear. The second watchman dragged the other alongside him as they made their way down to greet Amon and his Father.
The officer in lead yelled to lift the gate to the other guards. The same officer passed through with the initial sandy-haired watchman in tow. The lead watchman was considerably older, numerous wrinkles creasing his face. Even his hair had begun succumbing to his old age, the odd grey strand creating a salt-and-pepper look.
The lead guard dipped his head respectfully.
“Lord Falwyn. We apologize profusely such an informal reception. Kipp does too.”
He paused for a moment, elbowing the sandy-haired guard at the lack of a reply.
“Ah! Y-yes, sorry about that Lord Falwyn.” He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Won’t happen again. Honest.”
Amon sighed. Pomp and circumstance got quite tiring, if he was going to be honest. Fortunately, his father was also a bit of a hypocrite when it came to it.
Demore laughed and embraced the lead guard in a sweeping hug.
“Rawlins, you rascal, it’s good to see you too!” He hugged him tight, laughing and clapping his back before gradually relinquishing the other man.
“Dammit Dem! I’m trying to teach the new recruit some procedure.” He grumbled as he readjusted the straps on his armor. “Would it kill you to play along?”
His father just chuckled. “I do enough of that in the King’s court.”
“Then you should be extra good at it.” He said.
He dismissed Rawlins’ complaints, “Nonsense. But enough of that, how’s the work? Anything unusual going on?”
Rawlins grunted, “Some word of bandits in the East Reaches as you’ve no doubt heard, but I doubt they’ll hang around. King’s regiment was heading down that way.”
Demore grimaced, “It’s a stressful time. Relations with Laiton have been rocky in the past, but it has soured even further. The king’s delegation was turned away last summer.”
“Hmph. Told ya being a Lord is the goblin’s ass. Politics.” He spat on the ground.
“The king has already asked many of the noble houses to marshal their troops. I imagine it won’t be long before he sends for us to gather conscripts.”
“Folks won’t like that. Families need all the hands that they can get in summer.”
Amon was finding the conversation becoming rather dull, and left Rawlins and his father to continue their constant griping about the latest political shifts to sidle up next to Kipp, who had moved back to the gate and was leaning next to the stone wall of the entryway. He’d gotten to know Kipp over the years, messing around with him whenever he came down to the town when he was younger.
He shook a finger at Kipp, who was staring blankly at the ground. “Tut-tut. Such lackadaisical posture is hardly becoming of one of the Town guard.”
Kipp glanced up, his daydreaming interrupted. “Heh. I’ll become a proper guard when you become a proper lord.” He retorted with half a grin. He halfheartedly waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s a learning process. Old man Rawlins has a stick up his ass.”
“I’ll say. How long has it been? Two moons since you joined?”
“Two and a half.”
“And still stuck on gate watch. Told you that you should’ve tried your luck as an adventurer.”
“So I can end up dead on some goblin’s pike.” Kipp scoffed, “Not all of us have the resources or training of a noble house. ’Sides, it’s not too hard a job. Check merchant wagons, collect entry taxes, round up a belligerent drunk or two.”
“Sounds like the time of your life.” Amon quipped.
“Easy for you to say. Beats working at the mill like my pa.” He ground the sole of his boots against the cobblestone. “What brings you guys down here anyways? Word is your father came the other day to talk with Miss Alina. Someone sick?”
“Nothing so serious. The opposite, in fact. He’s here to gather some supplies for the trip to the grove. Father is probably getting the magical herbs and stuff from Alina.
Kipp grumbled a bit but didn’t look too upset. “I forgot you turned eighteen summers recently. Taking on the family mantle of becoming a cool forest sorcerer, huh? Are there any downsides to being a noble?”
“Yeah, I have to deal with this one whiny guard at the gate every time I come down here.”
“What! Why you –“ Kipp lunged toward him, but Amon had already moved away, laughing.
“Stay Still!”
Kipp chased Amon for a couple of minutes without any headway. He had had a lot of practice dodging responsibility growing up. He would have been content to continue the fun, but a familiar voice interrupted their antics.
“That’s enough playing around, lads.”
He looked over his shoulder. His father and Rawlins were walking back to the gate towards them. Their boring talks were finally over.
Kipp straightened his back next to him, “Certainly, sir!”
Amon whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Where’d all that backbone go?”
“Shut it, He’s coming over.” He whispered back.
His fun cut short by his father, as it oft was, he waved Kipp goodbye his father motioned for Amon to follow him past the gateway into the town, a pair of guards flanking them as an escort.
“I have to get going. Good luck with guard duty.”
“Thanks. Don’t forget about me when you’re a high and mighty lord!” Kipp waved back as he began to climb back up the battlements.
Amon followed his father into the town, catching up with him after a quick jog.
“So we’re going to Alina’s shop?” he asked. His father grunted in affirmation.
“We’re picking up some regents.”
“Am I ready to learn how to brew this mystical potion? Or is it too big a secret?”
His father glanced in his direction before turning away and resuming his walk. A real conversationalist. He continued to not respond as they moved past the central square into the marketplace.
The day was in full swing as the sea of merchant stalls and traders hawked their wares, trying to garner the attention of any of the men and women ambling about. They were mostly selling fresh fruits, no doubt picked from the forest, and goods made from ironbark. Stuff was as hard as iron, hence the name, and was found in ample supply in the region. It wasn’t the only rare lumber, either – a few stalls were displaying trinkets made from elderwood. Almost all of the furniture in their manor was made from elderwood, though in his opinion it served no purpose other than its traditional appearance. It was a peculiar wood that had come under great scrutiny from magical scholars throughout the years. Some said it was alive in its own unique way, even after being chopped and processed. His father handled it delicately - reverently, even. It didn’t feel like it was much more than sturdy wood, though. Despite his own feelings, they were I intrinsically imbued with magic and made them fantastic arcane implements. Some of the better staves and staffs out there were made from elderwood. But even here, one of the few places in the world it could be found, its scarcity was not to be understated. Elderwood trees only grew in and around the grove. People who weren’t from his family couldn’t enter the grove, though, meaning the sparse amount that grew outside of it was all the city could source. Not for lack of trying, of course. Amon had heard of countless attempts to harvest inside of the grove but they had never succeeded.
He watched as horse-carts and merchant wagons moved along the busy cobblestone roads and customers perused the assortments of foods and wares. Bellborough had quickly become a center of commerce as a result despite its short history. Who could have known a city would spring up around their ancestral grounds? He wondered how grandfather would have felt about this. Passing by a tacky elderwood figurine of a busty priestess that a number of people had crowded around, he concluded that it was probably good that he wasn’t around to see it.
They made their way up the streets until they found themselves in front of an apothecary with a sign hanging in front of it. It read: ‘Simple Solutions’. His father stepped into the shop and Amon followed suit. A small ding heralded their arrival.
The thud of someone hitting their head could be heard from the shop’s back room.
“Ow! – Blasted shelf. The sign says we’re closed for today!” A voice called out from the other room. A middle-aged woman with auburn hair rounded the corner with a crooked pair of spectacles sitting on a narrow nose, covering a pair of blue eyes with permanent dark rings under them that spoke of a major sleep debt.
“Oh!” She said as she noticed Amon and his Father waiting idly in the shop. “Lord Falwyn! You should have said something, I thought you were another one of those adventurers. The stones on them, really! I keep telling them I’m closed today, but every other hour another hapless fool walks in. What are my signs for?! You’d think being able to read would be a prerequisite. I should go down to the guild and– .”
His father cleared his throat, interrupting her tirade. “Yes, that does sound tiresome, but I believe we are here for something?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She said, the wind taken out of her sails. “Sorry about that. It gets me riled up. Hardly getting a moment's rest and having the interruptions on top of it all, not to mention the last bundle of Firegrass burst into flames while I was preparing it..”
“Ehem.” She coughed, stopping herself. ”But, uh, more importantly, I should have all the materials you requested.”
She gathered the materials from around the shop. Amon examined the shop in the meantime. The shelves were lined with assortments of bottles and potions, presumably of magical concoctions or cures. Random glassware lay scattered across the counters and baskets of strange-looking plants were bundled up or crushed into paste. He spotted some new, unfamiliar herbs here and there, and some draughts on a shelf that had a sickly purple color. Spirits willing, she wouldn’t be giving that to them.
She put all the materials she picked up on the table.
“Okay, this should be everything, I.. I think. A bundle of tangled clove, some wildroot, tassel of bleeding oak, and some plain old wolfsbane.”
His father sorted through the materials, examining each of them individually. The intensity with which he did so seemed to stress Alina out. Amon could see her shift about, growing nervous at the building tension.
“Of, um, course, if these aren’t of good enough, uh, quality, if you give me a couple of days, I can, ah, definitely procure another set.” She stammered.
After examining the last wildroot, his father put the herbs back on the counter.
“No. These will do just fine.” He said, grabbing the remaining bundles. “I thank you again Miss Alina.”
“Oh, ah, it was nothing.” She said, surprised at his father’s unexpected agreeability.
“We shall be off then. Come, Amon.” His father said, moving to exit the shop.
“I’ll see you around, Alina!” He said to the fidgety woman as he left behind his father.
They both exited the shop back onto the street, where the two guards had been waiting to continue their escort. Seeing their charges return from the shop, they both stood at attention and moved to follow him and his father.
They walked back through the town’s streets the way they came. The early morning light was blinding, with no clouds to shelter them. It was only getting worse, too, as the sun climbed further up the sky.
So. Hot. He complained internally.
There was still the entire ride to the grove to bear as well. The thought of which had Amon dragging his feet. He kept pace with his father despite his body’s protests. Getting an earful right before the ritual was not what he wanted. Eventually, they reached the stable where one of the guards had left their horses.
Having completed their duty, the escorting guards saluted his father, and left towards the barracks to return to their other duties. Or playing dice, he mused. It could be either or, really.
His father unhooked the horses, putting the newly acquired herbs in his pack. They both saddled up, ready to ride to the grove. They passed back through the gate again and Amon waved up at Kipp standing watch on the battlements as he left the town alongside his father.
His father stopped for a bit ways out of the town.
“We’re going to be heading to the grove from here. Make sure you’re by my side, otherwise you’ll end up getting lost. The spirits will muddle your senses in there if you stray too far from me. You’ll have no chance of finding the grove on your own, or even me, for that matter. Understand?”
Amon rolled his eyes.
“I know, Father. You already told me.”
“It bears repeating. You are to-.”
“-Stay by your side. Yes, I get it. Now can we get a move on? The sun is baking me out here.” He interrupted.
His father sighed, shaking his head.
“Follow me.” He said, flicking the horse’s reigns, springing it into motion.
Amon nudged his own horse along, matching his father. They moved off the village road and into the trees, deeper and deeper into the thicket. Eventually, the horses had to slow down. The undergrowth and roots threatened to trip them if they went too fast. He continued to follow his father deeper into the woods. His senses didn’t feel muddled, but he was still close to Father. It was a curious thought, what he might be seeing or hearing if he strayed too far from his father’s presence. The spirits didn’t bother his father, and supposedly, they wouldn’t bother him either after this.
After a certain point, the undergrowth was too great for the horses to continue. His father dismounted.
“The rest we have to walk on foot.” He said.
Amon groaned. “You’re telling me this now?”
“You would have complained earlier if I told you earlier.”
“Then I’ll complain twice as much to make up for the time lost.”
“Amon, please.” His father said, exasperated.
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” He grumbled.
Amon dismounted as well, grabbing his pack off of his horse and strapping his flask to his belt.
“Do we just leave the horses?” He asked.
“Tie them to the trees.” His father replied.
Amon patted the horses to calm them down as he tied their reigns to the branches of a sturdy-looking tree. It was no stable, but it would have to do. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be gone for long. He squeezed through the dense undergrowth after his father, past tangling knots and roots and ferns.
They stepped over and through countless plants, their thickness and abundance growing the deeper they went. He didn’t know that the forest could get this dense. Any closer, the trees would meld into one great big wall of bark. Fortunately, with his father paving the way, he simply needed to squeeze through the gaps he left behind.
After scraping through the final clump of thickets, the underbrush made way to a circular clearing, his father standing of to the side. A few rays of the midday sun broke through the canopy of trees overhead. A small pond and lay in the center of the clearing, surrounded by multi-colored flowers gently swaying in the grass.
“We’re here.” His father said, breaking him out of his reverie. “Where mortal and spirit intertwine at the heart of nature. Et dunum va Lauu.”