It was about six in the morning when Oren finally rolled out of bed. The ashen sheets fell off his bare chest as he made his way into the bathroom. His hair was all out of sorts, somehow coming undone in the middle of the night; it looked like he had just been in a windstorm. He attempted to tame it, running his calloused fingers through it and trying to undo the knots that had formed. Eventually, he gave up and piled it into a haphazard bun atop his head. He’d be working in the forge most of the day anyway and no one expected you to look presentable when you’re slaving over hot iron and steel.
After throwing on a new pair of pants, he shuffled along the cold wooden floors of the living room towards where he had discarded his boots the night before. He glanced towards the stairs leading to the third floor for a moment then headed to the forge.
The forge didn’t look all that different from others Oren had seen in his travels. The stairs came out behind a large counter from where customers would make their payments or pick up their items. Below it shelved things like receipts, orders, and the safe. On the wall behind it were hooks and shelves with various finished custom orders hanging or set on them. Workbenches lined most of the empty wall space and a rather large anvil sat close to the forge. A faint blue light glowed from the anvil; from the indiscernible language etched in the metal. It was the only light that shone in the room besides the early morning haze that came through the windows; the forge’s fire only a dull flicker as it was trying to go out.
Oren grabbed a couple of logs of wood from beside the entrance and chucked them into the forge. He found his father's note sitting on one of the work tables.
Oren, my boy,
Mr.Polatré will be by around 10 to pick up this bow and its arrows. It is finished but I need you to take it out for a test run. He specifically said what he wanted us to achieve in his order form. With that information make adjustments as needed, I trust you’ll make it work.
Setting the note back down he studied the order form that was underneath it. After reading the special instructions at the bottom he grabbed the bow that laid there. It was rather large, made with a dull type of steel and definitely less ornate than their regular orders. He shifted its weight in his hands and made a face; already taking notes in his head of what might need to be fixed. But his father had said he wanted it tested so Oren will do that first before jumping the gun.
He knew exactly how he would test it out. So he grabbed the arrows along with the bow and headed towards the stable, making sure to lock up before he left. After saddling up, he steered his horse out and down the stone street. He exited Aramore at its east entrance headed towards the enormous forest that obstructed the sun as it rose.
Tap… tap…tap
The pencil bounced off of the weathered paper over and over. Across it was etched a multitude of things from notes about people and different lands to detailed drawings of animals, fauna, and the occasional person; only a mere sample of what the other pages in the leather-bound notebook held.
Tap...tap...tap
Golden, laced viridian eyes gazed out the windows of the carriage. Idly they looked at the scenery; eyes being carried along by every passing tree. It seemed like Rhys wasn’t even looking at anything in particular, but lost in the many thoughts that ran through his head as usual.
Tap... tap...tap
“Ahem.” Gala cleared her throat.
He flinched at the sound she made; making him stop his pencil before it hit the page once more. Rhys mumbled an apology. He set his pencil within the notebook and closed it; setting it beside him. He continued to gaze outside as the sunrise shined brilliantly over the greenscape.
“You seem to have a lot on your mind. Maybe a little more than usual,” she said this not looking up from what she was doing, which was knitting. After getting no response she opted to change the subject.
“You never told me about your final thoughts on Lady Athena. She certainly was…” Gala paused looking for the right word.
“Loud.” her son said bluntly.
“I was going to say lively.”
Rhys made a noise in the back of his throat that could almost be considered a laugh.
“Well, Carleon was beautiful either way.”
“A nice addition to the kingdom, I suppose.”
His words were laced with sarcasm and malice Gala knew wasn’t pointed at her but at someone else. Rhys continued.
“Carleon has little to provide other than manpower. In comparison to Lady Siora’s Lythos, it would be harder to occupy even with a marriage treaty. Lythos is a neighboring land which means there will be little to no resistance to the treaty. Whereas Carleon is set in the middle of unruled territory so acceptance by the people will be tough...”
Rhys still stared outside as he spoke with little to no emotion; as if he was repeating those words for the thousandth time.
Gala’s shoulders tensed, her son sounding eerily like her husband at that moment. She knew better than to think that that was how he truly felt about all this but it still scared her even after all this time. This was the ‘responsibility’ her son was supposed to take, for the better of the kingdom, for Ercor’s kingdom.
“...They seemed happy....Lady Siora and Lady Athena...”
The words slipped out Rhys’ lips, almost like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. Spending two months getting to know both of those women and their respective lands, he learned of what they could offer their kingdom and what they both could offer as the future queen.
But Rhys couldn’t get it out of his head that they seemed...happy. Purely, genuinely, happy with their lives as it was. It was almost unfair that he was considering taking that away from them, to bring them into the shit storm that was his life. It made him feel disgusting. Like his father had already won because little by little he was stooping down to his level just to get what he wanted. Just so his mother would have a way out. Just so she could go out into the sun, so he could see her eyes glisten full of life and the hint of a smile that hid no sadness behind it.
“Rhys.”
He looked her in the eyes.
“It’s hard, Mom.”
A delicate hand came to rest on his knee.
“I know it is...but, Rhys, it’s your future dear and no one else's. You need to follow your heart and aim for the future you want.”
Giving his knee a gentle squeeze she withdrew her hand to pick up her knitting needles and continued knitting. The two fell into silence once more as they continued their journey to their last destination, Aramore.
They were only about thirty minutes away when Gala gasped suddenly while looking out the window. Her face lit up with shock and excitement. Eagerly she slid open the hatch that was behind her in the carriage wall.
“Tityra, dear?”
The man paused the rather lengthy, one-sided conversation he was having with the driver.
“What’s up, Lady Gala?” he said looking through the gap, his thick eyebrows arched high on his forehead.
“Would it be possible to make a stop at the orchard that’s ahead?”
“Hmm..”
Shifting could be heard as he fumbled around for his pocket watch to check the time. After contemplating it for a bit he was going to tell her that they wouldn’t have time to. That is until he looked through the hatch to meet her gaze. The usually intense-looking man damn near crumbled under those soft steel eyes she had.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt. Only for a little bit, we do have a schedule to uphold to..”
She smiled, thanking him then closed the hatch.
Rhys’s eyes twitched open as he awoke from the noise of their conversation.
“What was that about?” he yawned out.
“I was asking Tityra for a favor.”
“What is it this time?”
There was a hint of amusement in his question. Despite Tityra's hardened exterior when Rhys had seen him around his father, he was altogether pretty informal with his mother and himself. Gala had gotten into the habit of asking for things and Tityra would more often than not give her what she wanted. It was, refreshing, to say the least. Not to say he didn’t do what he was stationed by his father to do, but he was by no means doing things the way the Lord King would want him to do them.
Gala urged her son to look out the window at the approaching fruit orchard.
“An orchard…?”
She nodded in agreement and continued.
“Scala is a ways north from here. But my family would always visit this orchard on the occasion we would go visit the ocean in Penrith. There’s this fruit that is only grown here; my mother and I always baked it into the most delicious dessert. It used to be Ercor’s favorite…''
Her voice came out shaky as she said it, eyes getting lost in the scenery as if she was remembering something painful. Rhys’s mouth opened to say something but she continued to speak.
“I think it would be nice...to bake something for Lord and Lady Aramenor when we arrive at their residence. It’s a little humbling as royalty to do such a thing, don’t you think?”
Smiling, she pushed a few alabaster hairs behind her ear. He nodded in agreement, assuring her it was a great idea.
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