The palace garden was a small yet tranquil area. It was rarely trafficked by the main family, it was more common to see palace staff taking a relaxing moment away from their work. The plants were taken care of by a strange group of people. The most obvious of those people were the gardeners specifically hired for the task. Then there were the hobbyists that found peace tending to the plants, and the others were herbalists who never stayed long. Most of the herbalists came to the garden for what they needed, only to make a swift exit promptly after. Others took their time examining the plants and assuring that they were being tended to appropriately and with care, but would report their findings to the gardeners before departing, never making the changes themselves. Most plants in the garden served a purpose, that is how the Duke preferred it, but there was also a small section of the garden for beauty tucked away for his daughter to enjoy. This is where Arden spent a lot of his free time.
Today however he was on a mission. Nightshade berries. Arden recalled seeing the plants in the herbalist section of the garden earlier in the season when the purple flowers began to bloom. He spotted the small arrowhead shaped leaves next to the peppermint. The black berries littered the plant but he daren’t take too many for risk of being discovered. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he was caught harvesting poisonous berries so close to moving into the Duke’s palace with his mother being so close to the family. He would never forgive himself if he was the cause of his mother’s imprisonment, let alone his own incarceration.
He pocketed a few of the berries and walked to his regular section of the garden. He admired the clusters of phlox blooming in various colors.Observing the bees traveling from one color to another put his mind at ease for a time. Why did he want to give Erebus food? Was he trying to bribe the demon into teaching him? That's what he wanted to believe but he knew that it was not true. He had begun to become fond of the time spent with the man. Arden never found another conversation so intriguing; Erebus introduced a hunger that Arden could not control. He felt like a cattail. Each new idea pulls a seed of curiosity from him, only to unleash thousands more with a force that makes it near impossible for him to focus.
Arden set his hand over his pocket feeling the berries concealed within. Was this a terrible idea? Was there a real reason that he was never fed? He worried that feeding him would empower him or make his escape possible. But if that were true wouldn’t someone have said something to him? Whether he was convincing himself to make himself feel better or whether he actually felt convinced, he decided that gifting the demon less than a handful of berries could do no real harm.
He set off towards his room to update his growing list of findings on illusion magic, as well as his extensive list of questions. When he arrived he found that his mom had generously folded his work clothes and placed them in neat stacks on the bed. Not only that, but he found two new candles on his desk along with fresh tinderboxes. Arden smiled to himself appreciating her kindness after their stern talk from the night before. He crossed to her bed and adjusted her linens the way he knew she liked, and set off to fill the pitcher with fresh water for when she returns.
The journey back and forth from the well was uneventful but did take time. Time that he desperately wanted to use to write, but mending his relationship with his mom felt more important than his notes about demons and their magics. He carefully placed the pitcher in the basin behind the screen and went to write. His hand flew on the page, but he was careful to avoid smearing the ink. He filled parchment after parchment with new ideas, small drawings and what seemed like an endless stream of new questions. The room was soon dark and he had to light his new candle in order to continue. He took a moment to appreciate the luxury of a fresh candle, a luxury he never had before. He was resigned to scraps that he transformed into new candles from the remnants of ones used by others. A fresh new candle burned brighter and lasted longer. He sighed peacefully before returning to his work.
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