Reflection Pt. 6
It had been a long time since Oeric had been in his father’s living space. It was enough for a husband and wife to live comfortably with a single child. The small bedroom that was off to the side was his as a child. It lay empty and was only used for storage ever since he moved out of it when he was five. From that point on, he lived with his brother. There were only several times he came back there willingly. Every time it was usually when he was sick or injured. The very last time that he recalled was when he was brought home by Cordea. He was immediately tucked into his father’s room. No one saw him save Brother Oli, who wanted to see if there was a way to restore his eyesight.
He stayed there with his father, who was seeing to his needs and making sure he was fed and cared for. On the tenth day after his arrival that Brother Oli came with something he theorized but had never done himself. Practiced a little, though, Oeric wasn’t sure how. All he was told was that Brother Oli tweaked a nerve, stating something about pressure on it caused by some sort of swelling and scar tissue. It hurt, but whatever was done, Oeric was never so glad to see another’s face in his entire life.
In the present, he was glad Alacai was there. Mostly because he didn’t talk. He helped to the bed then just sat in silence to rest himself. Alacai was the nice one out of the two of them. In fact, Oeric purposely avoided getting him involved in any of his shannagains because he didn’t want him to get in trouble. They were the same age, but Oeric always treated him as a younger brother, so he protected him in the way he could.
Alacai was the first to visit when he came home. The second to realize the gaping wound that still oozed with blood and pain that tore his soul. But that didn’t stop him from loving him like a brother. In fact, Alacai would’ve gone after him, if Cordea gave him the chance.
In fact, they could pass as brothers, if not fraternal twins. They were the same age and looked very similar to one another. The difference was Alacai didn’t have those pale eyes that boarded between blue and gray. He had a pair of pale green eyes like his mother Fiona.
Kiao arrived soon and on entering, she studied Alacia slumped in his wicker chair before sitting on the edge of Oeric’s bed. She examined his hip and pulled back deeply concerned.
“I never wanted to see this again,” she told him gravely.
He sat up. “I’ve run miles, climbed trees, homes, tumbled, and fought things harder than that elf and this never happened.”
“Have you had pain there recently?”
Oeric shook his head. He couldn’t think of anything. “No. Maybe a little stab of something days ago.”
“Then that may have been a sign this was about to happen,” she told him. “Because since this happened once, its going to happen again. The frequency and intensity may vary. If we can figure out a pattern to it, it will help in treating it.”
He nodded.
She looked him in the eye and told him in a firm voice. “I told you before, I don’t know how long you have, duty wise. You should consider dropping from field work. This is something that can get you killed if this happens at the wrong time.”
“I can’t. There is still a lot for me to do and I need all the time I have left to do it. I’ll be careful,” he assured.
The young woman in front of looked beyond skeptical. “First Warden,” she said. “Your track record of being careful, may be better than your son’s. However, you have a habit of putting yourself into positions that are foolhardy and dangerous. You may be smarter than the average monk, but you still have muscles for brains.”
Alacai snorted from where he rested. There was a amused grin on his face. Before Kiao could say more, there was a tap at the door. It cracked open and Cyrius poked her head in. “Is he alright to talk too?”
Oeric nodded.
“I’ll leave now,” said Kiao, standing, and then dropped a square tin box in his hands. “You know how to take this. If you have pain after today, come see me.”
Oeric nodded and Kiao left and exchanged places with Cyrius and her husband, Wes. He was surprised to see Wes. The two of them never got alone. He had a narrow head like his mind and what Oeric considered a condescending personality. Wes spent a lot of his time when they first met, trying to tell him what to do. “Get your head on straight,” was his favorite phrase followed by a lecture on how he was wasting his life. He was correct about a lot of things then, but that didn’t mean Oeric couldn’t feel grated by him. It is his tone. And certainly, he was right about him needing to stop running and hiding. That he was a father and husband now and he couldn’t keep on being weak. However, Wes was good at criticism, but not great at suggesting ways on how to achieve anything.
Cyrius hung back, looking like she was afraid.
“I wasn’t angry back there,” said Oeric. “I don’t like being crowded.”
She remained. Wes stepped forward, sitting by his feet. “Soletus seemed like the only one who grasped what to do. He’s a thoughtful young man.”
“One of his many good qualities,” said Oeric.
“He is certainly different now,” he said. “I thought him becoming a warden was a mistake. He’s taken to it well.”
“That he has,” said Oeric, wondering why Wes had to do the talking. Just him being there made him feel the need to be defensive.
“I wrote to him several years ago with an invitation to stay with us when you were away. He sent back a no, and I was curious why. He seems to be reluctant to be around us.”
“His reluctance to be around you has more to do with the fact that most, if not all, of you orchard folk doubted that he could make it as a warden.”
“Could you blame us? He was the quietest of all the children and the least confident. Soldren, I could see as a monk, but he rather work with Alacai. Your son, not so much.”
“He was so quiet and thoughtful. He would have made for a good artisan,” said Cyrius.
Oeric never understood the assumption people had with his son. Certainly, he was shy, but he always been a little rough and tumble. Never one for working with his hands.
“No, he wouldn’t. When I put that staff in his hands as a boy, a different side of him came out. He was good at it. So focused and determined, wanting to try again and again no matter how many times I pushed him down,” said Oeric. “And that’s why I thought he could try. He had enough skills to make it through the training, but likely not through the trials. He would learn something. Become more confident, build some muscle. He would be able to choose anything he wanted after that. Then he exceeded my expectations, and every warden encouraged him. I think they saw our brother in him. It terrified me because I didn’t want to see him dead,” he admitted.
“He’s good, isn’t he?”
“Extremely. When you see him fight, you have to stand back and admire his skill. I want to see what he does now.”
“You are the typical proud father,” chuckled Wes. “That child is your shining light. I’m certain he’s a good lad but he’s an edge to him. I thought that maybe he was sticking around because he felt some obligation to you. And then he became very blunt and terse with me and said that whatever notion I had of you, I needed to drop it. And then he ended it with I should ask you how much you can tell him what to do.”
Alacai then chuckled. “Apples never fall far from the tree.”
Oeric smiled and shrugged. “He’s learning to be assertive, and it comes off strong given what has happened to him. I’m fine with it. He’ll mellow quicker than I ever did. Anyway, I need to get going. I’ve a lot I still need to do on my day off.”
As he stood, Wes held him back with a hand clamping down on his shoulder.
“Sit. We aren’t done yet.”
Oeric sank down and said between his teeth, “What then?”
“You’ve changed.”
“So, I’ve been told,” he returned and crossed his arm with his right index finger taping his bicep.
Cyrius moved and sat at Oeric’s side. We continued speaking.
“It more than we realized. Fern would tell us stories about you, Cordea, Soletus, and Saedee. Saying often you were doing alright and how she would talk to you for hours during a visit. I never truly believed her.”
“I would imagine. The truth is, she does all the talking,” said Oeric.
Wes gave him a flat stare of disapproval and cleared his throat. “Anyway, that not something I would expect you to do. That you would keep your children at a distance as you do everyone else. I always took you allowing Fern to come live with us for not wanting her around. She told us many times was that you gave her the option in the attempt of saving things between her and Cordea.”
“That’s true,” he said. He didn’t want his wife to feel like she was a terrible mother because she was becoming like the woman who birthed her. And he didn’t want his daughter on the path of resentment. That was the only thing he could think of.
Wes regarded him. “I thought the same would happen with Soletus.”
“Why would I send him? Soletus isn’t Fern. He needs space, but when he hurt the most, he turned to us. He needs us. Fern doesn’t need us like that.”
Alacai let out a loud sigh. “Above and below you people. Stop taking so long to get to the meat of this. Wes, you’re sorry for making assumptions. Now let Cyrius ask if you can go plan this wedding with each other.”
Oeric arched a brow. “Is this what this is about?”
“Yes,” said Cyrius. “We want to help with Fern’s wedding. It’s always the bride’s parent’s responsibility, but she’s been in our lives for so long that she feels a bit like one of my own. We want to help, but she said that she’ll let us if I spoke to you. And I didn’t want to. Then Cordea wrote her letter.”
Oeric very much wanted to know what that letter said. And speaking of letters, he remembered the one he had received. He would read it after this.
Wes then said. “If there is anything the two of you need to get, we can provide it. We can pitch in for her dowry if that is what you want.”
“You are talking to the wrong person,” he said. “I carried things around when I got married and when I was told to dressed as nice as I could, I did. Ask Cordea.”
Wes nodded. “It’s simpler that way.”
Cyrius sighed. “I’ll talk to her, but she’s always just acts polite around me, but she doesn’t like me. And I understand given my words hurt her.”
“Very true. She doesn’t forgive and forget easily. But, if you show her actual respect to her and us, she’ll come around,” said Oeric, standing to his feet and tested leg. He could feel a little pain, but not enough to stop him. “I have to go. I’m going home when I’m done. Stop by and we’ll talk more.”
Oeric told them goodbye while reaching into his pocket. The letter was a little crumpled, but the royal seal was intact. He left his father’s room and saw that he wasn’t behind his desk. He wasn’t out in the hall either. Neither was Farley. It gave Oeric the privacy he needed to go to the wall and lean against to read.
Dear First Warden Sheldmartin,
It’s been a few months since we spoke. And I write this in concern of our agreement to try to reform a few curs to be better members of society. However, my husband, the King, protested to this greatly. He feels it is more prudent to have them to make up for their transgression. They need discipline and to be worked hard. He doesn’t want to give them, in his words, “to a bunch of soft-hearts who would only baby them.” And while I tried to tell him about you, he has made him his mind about how to handle the curs. Many of them will but put to work in the military or as laborers in some industry. They will be given a commission and will be given more freedom until they prove themselves not to be a danger. Except this one.
We cannot keep him because he is not a citizen and has no skill to provide a work visa. His people will not take him. Releasing him to the countryside to let him roam is out of the question. The Dias Brotherhood offers a legal shelter that would allow him into your province. So please treat him with the respect and kindness I know your order is capable of.
I hope you inspire him with your strength and thoughtfulness. That you can aid him in leaving a life of peace and not become a burden better off slain. I will, perhaps, send someone to visit from time to time. However, I’ll let you decide how he is handled.
-Sincerely yours-
Queen Nethera’Heron
Oeric folded the letter. “She thinks way too highly of me,” he muttered. However, as a monk, he was equipped to deal with all situations, including this one. He pushed himself from the wall and limped his way down the hall, still trying to figure out a place to house the Dyne elf for at least the evening. He wondered if Cordea would protest too much if Gaelin stayed the night.
End