"Miracles do not come so freely. I lack that kind of power." uttered Railtus, recoiling from the notion of the lives of others existing quite so firmly in his hands. "Healing a cut cheek is easier than a stab wound. There are limits to what I can do." What Julen had said about trying harder privately stung Railtus, who could not help thoughts of regret about enjoying the comforts of House Anstrun.
Of course, all Julen saw was a wondrous power. Yes, wondrous it was, but the plagues of the world were not undone with the wave of a hand. "So I do not determine who lives or dies. The hope is that my efforts add towards a better world. One where such need is not as wide, nor as great. So the power to help others is an opportunity, not a burden."
A door opened, from the courtyard to the entrance hall, complete with the grand double-doors that stood there earlier. Doors that needed using. None of the portraits in the room from before had moved, just as well really. Still, somehow, the room now gave off a vastly different feel to the first time.
Family Affairs
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Sir Karsimir
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Julen nodded in response to Railtus’s answer. He wasn’t entirely satisfied by it, but he could tell that the subject bothered Railtus, so he didn’t press further. After all, he certainly hadn’t meant to accuse Railtus of any negligence. Other men with the same gift used it for nothing except lining their purses and securing their social status, while Julen had honestly never seen anyone work harder than Railtus when it came to doing what was right. He’d just wondered if Railtus suffered under the pressure of his burden. Apparently not. Such strength seemed inspiring, but Julen still felt glad that such a weight was not his to carry.
Following Railtus into the entrance hall, Julen glanced up at the portraits. Some of them were still just pictures, but others had become people -- Phelan, who had sneered and called his wife a strumpet; Mavelle, who had touched his hand and thanked him. And as Julen looked at them, mortal men and women stumbling through their brief lives, it occurred to him. Everyone carried a burden. Everyone made decisions that mattered. In ways they could never imagine, everyone held lives in their hands.
Just thinking back on the last few days, Julen could follow the strands his choices had woven into fate’s web. What if he hadn’t got up and sung in that tavern? Would Aranel have spent the night in a wet alleyway? What if he hadn’t conjured an angel’s illusion when he demonstrated his curse for her? Would Railtus have found another guide? Would that guide have provoked Phelan enough to reveal his true nature to Shantay?
Julen nearly froze, overwhelmed by the complexity that faced him. When so many unforeseeable outcomes might lie hidden in every decision, how could someone be expected to decide at all? And yet, to not decide would be to do nothing, which was surely a waste of life’s gift. To do too little was wrong. But to try and do too much would lead to burnout and, again, nothing would get done. Whether you were a warrior with miraculous healing powers, or just a farmer from Shim, there was a middle path that needed to be found, to be walked with courage, hope, and perhaps...perhaps more than a little bit of faith.
Nodding to himself, Julen walked to Railtus’s side, and raised his arm. “I believe that you have a shield for me to carry. At least, until you turn into an angel and flutter away.” The last part was said with a wink, although Julen couldn’t help wondering, just for a moment, what would happen to him when Railtus’s humanity eventually became nothing more than a memory, a shadowy land he had once lived in but could never return to.
Following Railtus into the entrance hall, Julen glanced up at the portraits. Some of them were still just pictures, but others had become people -- Phelan, who had sneered and called his wife a strumpet; Mavelle, who had touched his hand and thanked him. And as Julen looked at them, mortal men and women stumbling through their brief lives, it occurred to him. Everyone carried a burden. Everyone made decisions that mattered. In ways they could never imagine, everyone held lives in their hands.
Just thinking back on the last few days, Julen could follow the strands his choices had woven into fate’s web. What if he hadn’t got up and sung in that tavern? Would Aranel have spent the night in a wet alleyway? What if he hadn’t conjured an angel’s illusion when he demonstrated his curse for her? Would Railtus have found another guide? Would that guide have provoked Phelan enough to reveal his true nature to Shantay?
Julen nearly froze, overwhelmed by the complexity that faced him. When so many unforeseeable outcomes might lie hidden in every decision, how could someone be expected to decide at all? And yet, to not decide would be to do nothing, which was surely a waste of life’s gift. To do too little was wrong. But to try and do too much would lead to burnout and, again, nothing would get done. Whether you were a warrior with miraculous healing powers, or just a farmer from Shim, there was a middle path that needed to be found, to be walked with courage, hope, and perhaps...perhaps more than a little bit of faith.
Nodding to himself, Julen walked to Railtus’s side, and raised his arm. “I believe that you have a shield for me to carry. At least, until you turn into an angel and flutter away.” The last part was said with a wink, although Julen couldn’t help wondering, just for a moment, what would happen to him when Railtus’s humanity eventually became nothing more than a memory, a shadowy land he had once lived in but could never return to.
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Such a wink was welcomed, because it showed that Julen was starting to perceive Railtus as a fellow man and friend rather than some kind of greater personage. At least there was that. Still, there were occasional bouts where the fellow swung back to some form of deference. Truly, Railtus did not understand it. Was it a reaction towards his station, the sickening concept of Divine Right and Order which had revolted Railtus from an early age? A concept which now Railtus was perpetuating?
So Railtus smiled happily, grinning broadly at what was said. "We will get you to carry the wasters. There will be enough work for you to do. Please, fluttering is not the least bit manly." quipped Railtus.
Remembering Julen's bow before, as if before royalty, Julen had seemed to have forgotten his own eldritch abilities. The reason that they in fact, met. Yes, it was a different talent, less useful or controlled than that of Railtus, but it added a touch of irony to Julen's expectations of Railtus being a higher being.
Which to an extent he was, but he never saw it that way.
Then the doors opened.
Staring down from atop the great ramparts was again quite unlike attempting to climb them. One difference was emerging to be crowded by armoured men. An imposing presence, but adding a claustrophobic touch since what they were guarding was no longer the entrance, but the exit. Such sudden interception was like being a prisoner.
Having stepped clear from the doors, the sight down onto the streets was like that of a raptor surveying it's territory. Figures seemed smaller down there. Something easily disregarded. Now more than ever Railtus could sense the divide, how these defences of ramparts and towers protected mainly the foolish illusions of the rich. This was new.
What else was new was the largest man Railtus had ever seen. One of size comparible to a troll, with a blonde beard coating his face. A massive breastplate was worn, made of steel plates riveted onto leather, with mail draping covering the joints, much like the armour of the city guard. Yet there were differences, the immense spiked poleaxe resting on his shoulder was one. Another major difference was the iron rings like baubles in his beard and the larger steel bands around arms which matched the thickness of Railtus's waist. Granted, Railtus had a tapered waist, but still those arms were massive.
"So you are Railtus then? I was told of your stay." rumbled the giant.
"Greetings." Railtus answered, inclining his head respectfully and then raising his hand for the greeting.
They shook in a warrior's grip, wrist to wrist. A powerful grasp that made Railtus thankful for his vambraces. "Varanghar," announced the giant before turning his gaze onto Julen. "Is this your cohort? What happened to the cuts?"
"I healed them."
"Mage?" scowled Varanghar.
"Angelsworn."
"Ydrenite? Good folk them. Strict, but best men to have at your back." an approving nod accompanied the assessment. "You liscenced for that?" demanded the giant.
Railtus nodded.
"Good." uttered the deep voice. Seemingly satisfied, the immense warrior focused back on Julen. "We need to have words."
So Railtus smiled happily, grinning broadly at what was said. "We will get you to carry the wasters. There will be enough work for you to do. Please, fluttering is not the least bit manly." quipped Railtus.
Remembering Julen's bow before, as if before royalty, Julen had seemed to have forgotten his own eldritch abilities. The reason that they in fact, met. Yes, it was a different talent, less useful or controlled than that of Railtus, but it added a touch of irony to Julen's expectations of Railtus being a higher being.
Which to an extent he was, but he never saw it that way.
Then the doors opened.
Staring down from atop the great ramparts was again quite unlike attempting to climb them. One difference was emerging to be crowded by armoured men. An imposing presence, but adding a claustrophobic touch since what they were guarding was no longer the entrance, but the exit. Such sudden interception was like being a prisoner.
Having stepped clear from the doors, the sight down onto the streets was like that of a raptor surveying it's territory. Figures seemed smaller down there. Something easily disregarded. Now more than ever Railtus could sense the divide, how these defences of ramparts and towers protected mainly the foolish illusions of the rich. This was new.
What else was new was the largest man Railtus had ever seen. One of size comparible to a troll, with a blonde beard coating his face. A massive breastplate was worn, made of steel plates riveted onto leather, with mail draping covering the joints, much like the armour of the city guard. Yet there were differences, the immense spiked poleaxe resting on his shoulder was one. Another major difference was the iron rings like baubles in his beard and the larger steel bands around arms which matched the thickness of Railtus's waist. Granted, Railtus had a tapered waist, but still those arms were massive.
"So you are Railtus then? I was told of your stay." rumbled the giant.
"Greetings." Railtus answered, inclining his head respectfully and then raising his hand for the greeting.
They shook in a warrior's grip, wrist to wrist. A powerful grasp that made Railtus thankful for his vambraces. "Varanghar," announced the giant before turning his gaze onto Julen. "Is this your cohort? What happened to the cuts?"
"I healed them."
"Mage?" scowled Varanghar.
"Angelsworn."
"Ydrenite? Good folk them. Strict, but best men to have at your back." an approving nod accompanied the assessment. "You liscenced for that?" demanded the giant.
Railtus nodded.
"Good." uttered the deep voice. Seemingly satisfied, the immense warrior focused back on Julen. "We need to have words."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Julen didn’t have the slightest idea what wasters were. But since there was a good chance that they might be lighter and less awkward than Railtus’s shield, he appreciated the trade. Especially if Railtus decided to charge down the ramparts at the same speed with which he’d run up them. Smiling at Railtus’s comment about “fluttering”, Julen nodded, and followed his friend outside.
Where, ironically, he immediately wished he had Railtus’s shield to hide behind. The warrior standing before them was huge, as if a true barbarian had leapt from one of the stories Julen’s mother used to tell him. Positioned as he was, he almost seemed to block out the sun, and Julen jerked to an abrupt halt, unwilling to risk treading on that massive shadow.
Any hope that his presence might be unconnected to them vanished when he addressed Railtus by name. And, while Julen took some comfort from Railtus’s calm, he didn’t like it when the barbarian made reference to his cuts. That meant someone must have told him about the incident in the kitchen -- probably Phelan. Julen couldn’t help suspecting that Phelan hadn’t painted a particularly complimentary picture. The gods only knew what this stranger now thought of him.
Still, when the barbarian spoke to him, Julen stepped forward. He didn’t attempt the handshake. Unlike Railtus, he was no warrior, and wasn’t going to insult anyone by trying to pretend that he was. Also, he didn’t want to find out how easy it would be for Railtus to heal a broken wrist. But he did tip his head respectfully, as he’d observed Railtus do. “Certainly,” he agreed, quite prepared to let the barbarian have any words that he wished.
Where, ironically, he immediately wished he had Railtus’s shield to hide behind. The warrior standing before them was huge, as if a true barbarian had leapt from one of the stories Julen’s mother used to tell him. Positioned as he was, he almost seemed to block out the sun, and Julen jerked to an abrupt halt, unwilling to risk treading on that massive shadow.
Any hope that his presence might be unconnected to them vanished when he addressed Railtus by name. And, while Julen took some comfort from Railtus’s calm, he didn’t like it when the barbarian made reference to his cuts. That meant someone must have told him about the incident in the kitchen -- probably Phelan. Julen couldn’t help suspecting that Phelan hadn’t painted a particularly complimentary picture. The gods only knew what this stranger now thought of him.
Still, when the barbarian spoke to him, Julen stepped forward. He didn’t attempt the handshake. Unlike Railtus, he was no warrior, and wasn’t going to insult anyone by trying to pretend that he was. Also, he didn’t want to find out how easy it would be for Railtus to heal a broken wrist. But he did tip his head respectfully, as he’d observed Railtus do. “Certainly,” he agreed, quite prepared to let the barbarian have any words that he wished.
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"There was an incident in the kitchen." stated the giant, as a clear prompt for Julen.
The farmer appeared nervous, which Varanghar did not find suspiscious. People were so often nervous in Varanghar's presence that the champion barely noticed. Varanghar had always prized respect, taking glory as a favoured reward for a warrior, yet he found it far easier to be looked on with fear.
As such, the respectful head-tip was well-received. The giant stood roughly arms-length away from Julen, which was a relative term in context. Suffice to say the distance between them was substansial. Squaring up to people was the act of a bully, not a warrior. There was no glory in reminding people of their defenceless state.
Once more the voice rumbled, like powerfully grinding stone. "Stories have reached me of what happened. Some bad, some speak highly of you. I hear you made sure of helping in the kitchen. Now, tell me what happened." Varanghar ordered.
With this, the giant stepped down the top rampart, gesturing for them both to follow him. Railtus did so without comment. With luck, the troops clustered by the entrance could not overhear. A House soldier moved to follow, but Varanghar raised a hand to halt him.
"All of it." added Railtus, remembering how readily, eagerly almost, Julen had tried to shoulder the blame earlier. Here, in the company of warriors, was not the place for that to happen again.
The farmer appeared nervous, which Varanghar did not find suspiscious. People were so often nervous in Varanghar's presence that the champion barely noticed. Varanghar had always prized respect, taking glory as a favoured reward for a warrior, yet he found it far easier to be looked on with fear.
As such, the respectful head-tip was well-received. The giant stood roughly arms-length away from Julen, which was a relative term in context. Suffice to say the distance between them was substansial. Squaring up to people was the act of a bully, not a warrior. There was no glory in reminding people of their defenceless state.
Once more the voice rumbled, like powerfully grinding stone. "Stories have reached me of what happened. Some bad, some speak highly of you. I hear you made sure of helping in the kitchen. Now, tell me what happened." Varanghar ordered.
With this, the giant stepped down the top rampart, gesturing for them both to follow him. Railtus did so without comment. With luck, the troops clustered by the entrance could not overhear. A House soldier moved to follow, but Varanghar raised a hand to halt him.
"All of it." added Railtus, remembering how readily, eagerly almost, Julen had tried to shoulder the blame earlier. Here, in the company of warriors, was not the place for that to happen again.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Julen hardly needed Railtus’s admonition to tell the whole truth. With the massive barbarian towering over him, he suddenly felt far less inclined to shoulder any blame for what had happened in the kitchen. Obediently, Julen followed the man down the top rampart, and began his version of the story.
“I came here with Master Railtus, as his guide. While he attended to business with his family, he asked that I be given some lunch, which is why I was in the kitchen. Not long after I finished eating, Master Phelan entered.” Calling Phelan “Master” damn near choked Julen, but he was determined to do this as correctly as he knew how.
“Immediately, he began to insult me. I had met Master Phelan, once, some time ago. Back then, he was courting the woman who is now my wife. But I had no real reason to suppose that he remembered me. So at first, it was easy enough to ignore his slurs, since they seemed to be directed at my station rather than at me personally. Then he... He called my wife a...”
Julen’s eyes dropped, and he reached for Rosemary’s locket before remembering that it no longer hung around his throat. Instead, his fingers brushed against bare skin. “I would rather not repeat what he called my wife. Suffice to say, it was neither flattering nor true. In that moment, I admit, I wanted to strike him. But I knew it was not my place. I didn’t want to shame Master Railtus in front of his family.”
“Unfortunately, Master Phelan noticed a necklace I was wearing -- a locket, given to me by my wife. He attempted to grab it.” Julen raised his eyes, no longer speaking as a servant to a warrior, but simply as one man to another. “I have not seen my wife in four months, since I came to Marn seeking work. Her locket is all I have of her. Without thinking, I struck his hand away. Master Phelan then demanded that I give the locket to him. I refused. I lost my temper. I said...some things that probably provoked him. Then I attempted to leave.”
Drawing a deep breath, Julen dragged his hand through the unruly tangle of his curls. “Again, he tried to take the locket. We struggled. He backhanded me, causing the scrapes that Master Railtus healed, and the locket chain snapped. I suppose that I snapped, too. That was when I punched him.”
“Master Phelan drew a horse rod from his belt. But before he could use it, Master Railtus dashed into the kitchen, and placed himself between us. Some more...things...were said. Then, Master Phelan demanded the right to punish my offences by flogging me. Railtus -- I mean, Master Railtus -- challenged him to claim that right in a court of swords.”
“At no point,” Julen hastened to add, “did Master Phelan accept that challenge. By now, Mistress Mavelle had also arrived. She was hysterical. Neither she nor I wanted to see anyone come to serious harm because of a few unwise words and a broken piece of jewelry. After she pleaded with her brother, I offered to let Master Phelan get his satisfaction by flogging me. He declined.” Julen hesitated, glancing over at Railtus. Well...he’d said to tell all of it. “I believe, mainly, because Master Railtus threatened to destroy his arm if he raised it against me.”
“And that’s about it.” Nervously, Julen waited for the warrior’s response.
“I came here with Master Railtus, as his guide. While he attended to business with his family, he asked that I be given some lunch, which is why I was in the kitchen. Not long after I finished eating, Master Phelan entered.” Calling Phelan “Master” damn near choked Julen, but he was determined to do this as correctly as he knew how.
“Immediately, he began to insult me. I had met Master Phelan, once, some time ago. Back then, he was courting the woman who is now my wife. But I had no real reason to suppose that he remembered me. So at first, it was easy enough to ignore his slurs, since they seemed to be directed at my station rather than at me personally. Then he... He called my wife a...”
Julen’s eyes dropped, and he reached for Rosemary’s locket before remembering that it no longer hung around his throat. Instead, his fingers brushed against bare skin. “I would rather not repeat what he called my wife. Suffice to say, it was neither flattering nor true. In that moment, I admit, I wanted to strike him. But I knew it was not my place. I didn’t want to shame Master Railtus in front of his family.”
“Unfortunately, Master Phelan noticed a necklace I was wearing -- a locket, given to me by my wife. He attempted to grab it.” Julen raised his eyes, no longer speaking as a servant to a warrior, but simply as one man to another. “I have not seen my wife in four months, since I came to Marn seeking work. Her locket is all I have of her. Without thinking, I struck his hand away. Master Phelan then demanded that I give the locket to him. I refused. I lost my temper. I said...some things that probably provoked him. Then I attempted to leave.”
Drawing a deep breath, Julen dragged his hand through the unruly tangle of his curls. “Again, he tried to take the locket. We struggled. He backhanded me, causing the scrapes that Master Railtus healed, and the locket chain snapped. I suppose that I snapped, too. That was when I punched him.”
“Master Phelan drew a horse rod from his belt. But before he could use it, Master Railtus dashed into the kitchen, and placed himself between us. Some more...things...were said. Then, Master Phelan demanded the right to punish my offences by flogging me. Railtus -- I mean, Master Railtus -- challenged him to claim that right in a court of swords.”
“At no point,” Julen hastened to add, “did Master Phelan accept that challenge. By now, Mistress Mavelle had also arrived. She was hysterical. Neither she nor I wanted to see anyone come to serious harm because of a few unwise words and a broken piece of jewelry. After she pleaded with her brother, I offered to let Master Phelan get his satisfaction by flogging me. He declined.” Julen hesitated, glancing over at Railtus. Well...he’d said to tell all of it. “I believe, mainly, because Master Railtus threatened to destroy his arm if he raised it against me.”
“And that’s about it.” Nervously, Julen waited for the warrior’s response.
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Four months?!
Railtus perked up at that, more than a little startled. We will have to fix that now, wont we.
Varanghar wore an open face, despite the mass of beard in the way, his expressions were always clear. It was as if the beard highlighted rather than concealed his emotions. First was patience. Then a deeply fearsome scowl, around the time Julen mentioned what was said about his wife. Even empathy when Julen described wanting to strike Phelan and losing his temper.
Perhaps surprisingly, when Julen admitted to punching Phelan, the face of the giant bore approval, accompanied by a steady and continuous nod. Then Julen reached the part about the challenge.
Then his eyes bulged.
Following on from that was how the situation was defused, although what followed next stunned the iron-bound warrior. Hearing how Railtus threatened to destroy Phelan's arm mixed open-mouthed shock and mirth at the prospect. No one had ever spoken to Phelan like that! He would not be happy.
"That sounds like a Ydrenite." Varanghar commented dryly. "You really challenged him?" turning his question towards Railtus.
"Invited." answered the Angelsworn smoothly. "Defender's rights." he explained.
Almost immediately, a serious look returned to Varanghar's face, as the head turned ominously back to Julen. Considering.
Considering...
"I believe you." rumbled the giant. "You make hard admissions." Non-threatening did not come easily to Varanghar, so when he adjusted his stout halberd the blade flickered a little worryingly before resting the beard of the weapon over his shoulder.
"You do well to defend your wife's honour like that. I heard what was said." Varanghar admitted. "You should be a warrior, brave like that. Few stand up to Phelan that way. Best you don't come back here though. It would be the House noble's wishes."
With some thought, a massive hand fished inside a leather belt pouch buckled onto a broad belt. From the pouch emerged something in Varanghar's iron-ringed fingers. It was a trinket, a bauble, something which Varanghar would consider a ring, but what a slim lady such as Mavelle would consider a bracelet or maybe even a torque. It was a chunky gold band, studded with red gems. More likely garnets than rubies but precious stones nontheless.
The massive paw thrust out before Julen, presenting the trinket. "Give this to your wife when you next see her. Let it be known to her that Varanghar salutes your courage."
Railtus perked up at that, more than a little startled. We will have to fix that now, wont we.
Varanghar wore an open face, despite the mass of beard in the way, his expressions were always clear. It was as if the beard highlighted rather than concealed his emotions. First was patience. Then a deeply fearsome scowl, around the time Julen mentioned what was said about his wife. Even empathy when Julen described wanting to strike Phelan and losing his temper.
Perhaps surprisingly, when Julen admitted to punching Phelan, the face of the giant bore approval, accompanied by a steady and continuous nod. Then Julen reached the part about the challenge.
Then his eyes bulged.
Following on from that was how the situation was defused, although what followed next stunned the iron-bound warrior. Hearing how Railtus threatened to destroy Phelan's arm mixed open-mouthed shock and mirth at the prospect. No one had ever spoken to Phelan like that! He would not be happy.
"That sounds like a Ydrenite." Varanghar commented dryly. "You really challenged him?" turning his question towards Railtus.
"Invited." answered the Angelsworn smoothly. "Defender's rights." he explained.
Almost immediately, a serious look returned to Varanghar's face, as the head turned ominously back to Julen. Considering.
Considering...
"I believe you." rumbled the giant. "You make hard admissions." Non-threatening did not come easily to Varanghar, so when he adjusted his stout halberd the blade flickered a little worryingly before resting the beard of the weapon over his shoulder.
"You do well to defend your wife's honour like that. I heard what was said." Varanghar admitted. "You should be a warrior, brave like that. Few stand up to Phelan that way. Best you don't come back here though. It would be the House noble's wishes."
With some thought, a massive hand fished inside a leather belt pouch buckled onto a broad belt. From the pouch emerged something in Varanghar's iron-ringed fingers. It was a trinket, a bauble, something which Varanghar would consider a ring, but what a slim lady such as Mavelle would consider a bracelet or maybe even a torque. It was a chunky gold band, studded with red gems. More likely garnets than rubies but precious stones nontheless.
The massive paw thrust out before Julen, presenting the trinket. "Give this to your wife when you next see her. Let it be known to her that Varanghar salutes your courage."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Julen gawked at the jeweled band. After finishing his version of events, he’d half-expected Varanghar to pick him up and toss him over the ramparts. But, instead, he’d received this reward, which was probably worth more than his farmhouse. “Thank you,” Julen replied, conveying his appreciation with a deep bow. “I will certainly tell her. The respect symbolized by your gift makes it very precious to both of us.”
Then, hoping that he’d managed to adequately express his gratitude, Julen took the bracelet. To simply shove it in his pouch seemed to show poor regard for the gift. So he held it in one hand, unconsciously beginning to fiddle with it as he addressed some of the other issues Varanghar had raised.
“I have committed myself to the service of Master Railtus. If he wishes me to return, then I must return. But if he sees no need for that...” Julen hesitated, trying to erase all traces of hopefulness from his voice. “If he sees no need, then I will gladly follow your suggestion, and never set foot in House Anstrun again.”
“As for being a warrior, I do not know if I have it in me to ever attain that honor.” Again, Julen felt a strange clarity, just as he’d experienced when he’d volunteered to become Railtus’s squire, and again when he’d first held Railtus’s shield. A sense that all the time he’d been busy being a farmer, there was something else he wanted -- something else he needed -- to do. “I know such things require both time and sacrifice. But it is my true wish to one day become worthy of fighting at Master Railtus’s side. And perhaps, if our paths take us in that direction, at your side as well.” The dignity of this announcement was somewhat offset by the fact that, during his fiddling, Julen had managed to get the jeweled band around his wrist, and was now wearing it like a bracelet.
Then, hoping that he’d managed to adequately express his gratitude, Julen took the bracelet. To simply shove it in his pouch seemed to show poor regard for the gift. So he held it in one hand, unconsciously beginning to fiddle with it as he addressed some of the other issues Varanghar had raised.
“I have committed myself to the service of Master Railtus. If he wishes me to return, then I must return. But if he sees no need for that...” Julen hesitated, trying to erase all traces of hopefulness from his voice. “If he sees no need, then I will gladly follow your suggestion, and never set foot in House Anstrun again.”
“As for being a warrior, I do not know if I have it in me to ever attain that honor.” Again, Julen felt a strange clarity, just as he’d experienced when he’d volunteered to become Railtus’s squire, and again when he’d first held Railtus’s shield. A sense that all the time he’d been busy being a farmer, there was something else he wanted -- something else he needed -- to do. “I know such things require both time and sacrifice. But it is my true wish to one day become worthy of fighting at Master Railtus’s side. And perhaps, if our paths take us in that direction, at your side as well.” The dignity of this announcement was somewhat offset by the fact that, during his fiddling, Julen had managed to get the jeweled band around his wrist, and was now wearing it like a bracelet.
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Sir Karsimir
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"It was more than a suggestion." declared the giant, perhaps ominously. Nearly everything sounded ominous to someone addressed directly by Varanghar. "You struck a House noble. You don't set foot in here again after that." The great bearded head shook firmly. "That you were right does not help you."
Regardless, everything in Julen's manner was fitting and sincere. Even when Julen hinted at having to come back, he spoke with due respect and the right priorities. A shame no one had taught that one arms just yet. Character like that was needed in a warrior.
A moment later, a great hand swatted the side of Julen's shoulder. It was more intended as a companionable pat, but there was still great force behind it.
"Fare you well and warm winds!" With that, a great iron ringed fist clashed loudly against his breastplate, and the giant marched back to the main hall.
Railtus returned the salute. "That went well." he chimed in as the giant left. Wasting no time, he began leading Julen back down from the paved ramparts. They were paved. Paved! Who in their right mind paved fortifications? Still, one thing had not escaped his notice.
"Four months?" he asked disbelievingly, "You have not seen Rosemary in four months?" Immediately Railtus set about correcting that situation. "Plan. We will train you for the week, starting today. After that we go to Shim and see your wife. If we travel I can draw your pay in advance so you can bring her two weeks wages. How is that?"
Regardless, everything in Julen's manner was fitting and sincere. Even when Julen hinted at having to come back, he spoke with due respect and the right priorities. A shame no one had taught that one arms just yet. Character like that was needed in a warrior.
A moment later, a great hand swatted the side of Julen's shoulder. It was more intended as a companionable pat, but there was still great force behind it.
"Fare you well and warm winds!" With that, a great iron ringed fist clashed loudly against his breastplate, and the giant marched back to the main hall.
Railtus returned the salute. "That went well." he chimed in as the giant left. Wasting no time, he began leading Julen back down from the paved ramparts. They were paved. Paved! Who in their right mind paved fortifications? Still, one thing had not escaped his notice.
"Four months?" he asked disbelievingly, "You have not seen Rosemary in four months?" Immediately Railtus set about correcting that situation. "Plan. We will train you for the week, starting today. After that we go to Shim and see your wife. If we travel I can draw your pay in advance so you can bring her two weeks wages. How is that?"
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Still reeling from Varanghar’s “pat”, Julen hurried after Railtus. Things seemed to have turned out miraculously well. Nevertheless, Julen couldn’t help being eager to put some considerable distance between himself and House Anstrun, despite Mavelle’s charm and the excellent quality of the beef stew.
“Whenever someone from the village comes into Marn, I ask them to take money and letters back to Rosemary,” Julen explained, not wanting Railtus to think that he’d neglected his wife. “But every bishan is a matter of survival for us. If I’d used even a few days to go visit her, those would have been days when I couldn’t be working.”
“Of course, now that I’m in your employ, I guess I get paid no matter where we go.” The thought of returning home filled Julen’s heart with joy. “So if it’s really no inconvenience, I would love to see Rosemary again. Thank you. I promise that you’ll have the best visit a simple farmer can provide. Just wait until you taste Rosemary’s cooking.”
However, a visit did raise one pressing issue.
“Railtus? Rosemary doesn’t...she doesn’t know about the thing I do when I sing. The magic. Please don’t tell her. She’d just worry.” Although he didn’t say so, Rosemary’s worry wasn’t what truly concerned Julen. He was afraid of seeing fear and repugnance in his wife’s eyes. That would kill him more surely than anything Phelan could ever do.
“Whenever someone from the village comes into Marn, I ask them to take money and letters back to Rosemary,” Julen explained, not wanting Railtus to think that he’d neglected his wife. “But every bishan is a matter of survival for us. If I’d used even a few days to go visit her, those would have been days when I couldn’t be working.”
“Of course, now that I’m in your employ, I guess I get paid no matter where we go.” The thought of returning home filled Julen’s heart with joy. “So if it’s really no inconvenience, I would love to see Rosemary again. Thank you. I promise that you’ll have the best visit a simple farmer can provide. Just wait until you taste Rosemary’s cooking.”
However, a visit did raise one pressing issue.
“Railtus? Rosemary doesn’t...she doesn’t know about the thing I do when I sing. The magic. Please don’t tell her. She’d just worry.” Although he didn’t say so, Rosemary’s worry wasn’t what truly concerned Julen. He was afraid of seeing fear and repugnance in his wife’s eyes. That would kill him more surely than anything Phelan could ever do.
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Sir Karsimir
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Nodding, Railtus understood. Such a position was unfamiliar to him, but the concept was still valid. "I was wondering how you went about sending money." As a nobleman, and even back as a constable, Railtus had always had 'people' for that sort of thing. A new experience for him was the concept of having to make do without them.
"Actually, I was expecting to stay out of the way. To give you both time to catch up freely." Among other things, but Railtus was a gentleman and disinclined to go into that. "Besides, I am sure Rosemary would have reason to be wary of any bearing the name Anstrun." The true extent of that certainty was best left undetailed for now, at least until further away from House Anstrun. Having sensed the sheer evil within Phelan, Railtus actually feared for when Rosemary was near him. Telling that to Julen would be sure to spark a reaction, one that would likely be a danger to him.
Being asked to keep another secret annoyed him. Shadows were not his domain. Masking the truth was not his way. Sadly, no firm moral footing existed for him in this. Listening to Julen's views on his power, logical consistancy had been thoroughly defenestrated. "What amuses me is how you descend to one knee upon discovering my ability, yet you look on your own with something like dread." Still, it served well to answer the point at hand. "I think she would have a right to know, but very well, it is not my place to tell her."
Prudence then made a screeching demand for attention. "But discussing that in public could get us both killed." An effective end to that conversation.
Remembering his destination and the fact that Julen was the guide, Railtus began for the direction of the business district. "Account Holdings, and Fighter's Guild." Railtus directed, "Then back to yours. Some things we will need an introduction to."
"Actually, I was expecting to stay out of the way. To give you both time to catch up freely." Among other things, but Railtus was a gentleman and disinclined to go into that. "Besides, I am sure Rosemary would have reason to be wary of any bearing the name Anstrun." The true extent of that certainty was best left undetailed for now, at least until further away from House Anstrun. Having sensed the sheer evil within Phelan, Railtus actually feared for when Rosemary was near him. Telling that to Julen would be sure to spark a reaction, one that would likely be a danger to him.
Being asked to keep another secret annoyed him. Shadows were not his domain. Masking the truth was not his way. Sadly, no firm moral footing existed for him in this. Listening to Julen's views on his power, logical consistancy had been thoroughly defenestrated. "What amuses me is how you descend to one knee upon discovering my ability, yet you look on your own with something like dread." Still, it served well to answer the point at hand. "I think she would have a right to know, but very well, it is not my place to tell her."
Prudence then made a screeching demand for attention. "But discussing that in public could get us both killed." An effective end to that conversation.
Remembering his destination and the fact that Julen was the guide, Railtus began for the direction of the business district. "Account Holdings, and Fighter's Guild." Railtus directed, "Then back to yours. Some things we will need an introduction to."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
“Your ability saves lives and eases suffering. My ability makes tiny glowing lights.” There was more that Julen wanted to point out, such as the fact that Railtus could actually control his healing, and that he’d even managed to obtain a license to practice it legally. But Railtus was right. The open streets were no place for such a private conversation.
So, as they started back toward the Business District, Julen let his thoughts flow along more pleasant channels. Home. His room behind the bakery was alright, but he missed the comforts of his farm -- the feel of a mattress stuffed with newly cut hay, the smell of freshly plowed earth. The colors of the wildflowers in a nearby meadow. Once, soon after they were married, Rosemary had gone away for the day to visit relatives. While she was gone, Julen gathered armloads of those bright blossoms, and filled every cup, every bowl, every pot in the house with them. The time taken from his chores meant that he would have to work long after dark that night to catch up. But when Rosemary returned, the way she laughed and kissed him made that seem like an insignificant price to pay.
And best of all, Julen knew that if he’d given her only a single bloom, or even merely a petal, she still would have kissed him, and loved him just the same.
Glancing over at his friend, Julen wondered if Railtus would ever have something like what he had with Rosemary. He wondered how serious things were with Mavelle. He wondered if Mavelle, sweet as she was, could truly understand what it would be like to be joined to someone like Railtus, whose sense of duty would so often take him away from home and expose him to such immense dangers. But such questions were not something he’d earned the right to ask, not yet. On the other hand, there were some less delicate subjects he was curious about, and now seemed like a fine time to ask about them.
“You know a great deal about my life and history, yet I still know very little about yours. Where are you from? Why did you travel all this way to visit these relatives?”
So, as they started back toward the Business District, Julen let his thoughts flow along more pleasant channels. Home. His room behind the bakery was alright, but he missed the comforts of his farm -- the feel of a mattress stuffed with newly cut hay, the smell of freshly plowed earth. The colors of the wildflowers in a nearby meadow. Once, soon after they were married, Rosemary had gone away for the day to visit relatives. While she was gone, Julen gathered armloads of those bright blossoms, and filled every cup, every bowl, every pot in the house with them. The time taken from his chores meant that he would have to work long after dark that night to catch up. But when Rosemary returned, the way she laughed and kissed him made that seem like an insignificant price to pay.
And best of all, Julen knew that if he’d given her only a single bloom, or even merely a petal, she still would have kissed him, and loved him just the same.
Glancing over at his friend, Julen wondered if Railtus would ever have something like what he had with Rosemary. He wondered how serious things were with Mavelle. He wondered if Mavelle, sweet as she was, could truly understand what it would be like to be joined to someone like Railtus, whose sense of duty would so often take him away from home and expose him to such immense dangers. But such questions were not something he’d earned the right to ask, not yet. On the other hand, there were some less delicate subjects he was curious about, and now seemed like a fine time to ask about them.
“You know a great deal about my life and history, yet I still know very little about yours. Where are you from? Why did you travel all this way to visit these relatives?”
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Sir Karsimir
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Railtus shrugged. This was no big secret. As a matter of fact, he expected to answer these questions earlier. Equally, his history did not strike him as anything important. Yes, important things happened in it, but his tale was no greater than that of anyone else.
So openly and without rancor, Railtus gave his history. "My home lies beyond the Crenakth Mountains, and my father sent me here because I was an embarrassment." All of this was stated plainly, absent of both shame and resentment, almost casual in tone. Steps afterwards hinted that the answer was complete when Railtus saw fit to elaborate.
"Distant relatives keep me out of the way after a fight with a garrison-captain who would take what he wanted from the villagers. In this instance he was aiming to take a mature daughter, hence the fight. Since the garrison-captain served an allied lord, my presence was a political inconvenience ever since."
An explanation was given. There. Well, he might as well know more of the story. After all, Julen was now in his service. "My travels brought me to Kreylask village, were the Divine Right priest was enforcing tithes from the people. When asked as a noble to justify this, I spoke against the practice. This led to some encounters with bailiffs sent to sieze the tithes. By staying I was able to limit them to preying on travellers. I could not protect everyone, but I convinced some travellers to spread word of the iniquity." Such great length flowed very fluently, as though Railtus was prepared to speak of his history.
"Word from the travellers brought a curate of Ydren. It was from him that I learned my faith. By this point I was training a militia so I could protect the travellers. They appointed me constable." At 16, no less, although that part remained unsaid. "First time I learned what I was, it was like hearing screams of pain calling me for help." A heavy breath was taken, exhaling now-severe air. "I meet someone, merely cross paths, and hear the cries of pain of their every victim all at once and every person they mean harm." Now showing a less glamourous side to being one of the Angelsworn. "That led me to the priest poisoning the well, planning to dress up the misery and death to follow as divine wrath."
"We were too late to stop the well from being poisoned, but in time for the Curate to purify the water so that only minor harm was done. Sadly we could not hang a Divine Right priest without incurring the wrath of the nobility. Their docterine preaches the inherent superiority of the noble classes, so the nobles give the church full support. An attack on the church is considered rebellion against the nobles, as it disputes their right to rule. Instead I had all the villagers refuse the priest all food and water and stationed guards at the well. Eventually he had to leave or starve."
By now the tale seemed to have gone on for far too long. "Afterwards, my father sent word demanding I proceed to Thar Shaddin. It seemed he did not approve of the life I was leading. By this point, the militia was capable of upholding the village without me. After that, was the bandits, and here."
Already bored with talking about himself, Railtus turned the conversation back to Julen. "How well does that answer your question?"
So openly and without rancor, Railtus gave his history. "My home lies beyond the Crenakth Mountains, and my father sent me here because I was an embarrassment." All of this was stated plainly, absent of both shame and resentment, almost casual in tone. Steps afterwards hinted that the answer was complete when Railtus saw fit to elaborate.
"Distant relatives keep me out of the way after a fight with a garrison-captain who would take what he wanted from the villagers. In this instance he was aiming to take a mature daughter, hence the fight. Since the garrison-captain served an allied lord, my presence was a political inconvenience ever since."
An explanation was given. There. Well, he might as well know more of the story. After all, Julen was now in his service. "My travels brought me to Kreylask village, were the Divine Right priest was enforcing tithes from the people. When asked as a noble to justify this, I spoke against the practice. This led to some encounters with bailiffs sent to sieze the tithes. By staying I was able to limit them to preying on travellers. I could not protect everyone, but I convinced some travellers to spread word of the iniquity." Such great length flowed very fluently, as though Railtus was prepared to speak of his history.
"Word from the travellers brought a curate of Ydren. It was from him that I learned my faith. By this point I was training a militia so I could protect the travellers. They appointed me constable." At 16, no less, although that part remained unsaid. "First time I learned what I was, it was like hearing screams of pain calling me for help." A heavy breath was taken, exhaling now-severe air. "I meet someone, merely cross paths, and hear the cries of pain of their every victim all at once and every person they mean harm." Now showing a less glamourous side to being one of the Angelsworn. "That led me to the priest poisoning the well, planning to dress up the misery and death to follow as divine wrath."
"We were too late to stop the well from being poisoned, but in time for the Curate to purify the water so that only minor harm was done. Sadly we could not hang a Divine Right priest without incurring the wrath of the nobility. Their docterine preaches the inherent superiority of the noble classes, so the nobles give the church full support. An attack on the church is considered rebellion against the nobles, as it disputes their right to rule. Instead I had all the villagers refuse the priest all food and water and stationed guards at the well. Eventually he had to leave or starve."
By now the tale seemed to have gone on for far too long. "Afterwards, my father sent word demanding I proceed to Thar Shaddin. It seemed he did not approve of the life I was leading. By this point, the militia was capable of upholding the village without me. After that, was the bandits, and here."
Already bored with talking about himself, Railtus turned the conversation back to Julen. "How well does that answer your question?"
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Somehow, Julen managed to keep his jaw from dropping as he listened to Railtus’s story. But just barely. At times like this, he could hardly believe that Railtus was five years his junior, when the warrior had already done so much more than Julen planned to do in his entire life. If things hadn’t gone wrong, Julen would have spent his days in Shim, counting the rare trip into Marn as a great adventure. His triumphs would have been small things, a well-raised crop or well-raised child, and his good deeds would have been mundane favors granted to neighbors in need. And Railtus had already...by the gods, did it really still surprise him when people took him for something more than mortal? Was he really so oblivious to how different he was from other men?
Julen nodded in approval when Railtus described saving the girl from a garrison captain’s lust. Such abuses were rare in Shim. The government, while far from perfect, was concerned with maintaining a façade of strict morality. They didn’t let their agents openly prey on the innocent. Still, Julen had heard stories, and he couldn’t listen to them without thinking of Rosemary. But for fate’s whim, each of those women could have been Rosemary. If anyone ever...if they even tried to...there would be a reckoning. He would see to that.
Sadly, details about the priest’s corruption didn’t surprise Julen. The church that his father had attended didn’t preach divine right. But their insistence that man was born to suffer achieved much the same thing. If misery was the path to heaven, why should people struggle to improve their lives, why should they resent those who took so much from them? They would be rewarded later. Later. Julen was, by his nature, a patient man. However, he didn’t plan on postponing happiness until after he was dead.
Julen wished he could ask Railtus more about discovering he was Angelsworn, about hearing the screams of pain. How had he come to terms with it? How had he learned to control his powers? But, as Railtus had pointed out earlier, this was no place to talk of such things. They would have to wait.
“That answers my question very well indeed. Still, one thing puzzles me. How can your father consider you an embarrassment? His standards must be very high or very strange. Compared to you, I have made little enough of my time in this world, and yet I believe that my father was proud of me, in his way.” Julen shook his head, stung by the unfairness of it. “It has always been my hope that one day, when the time is right, Rosemary and I will be blessed with children. If one of them accomplished even half of what you just told me, I would be very proud indeed.”
Julen nodded in approval when Railtus described saving the girl from a garrison captain’s lust. Such abuses were rare in Shim. The government, while far from perfect, was concerned with maintaining a façade of strict morality. They didn’t let their agents openly prey on the innocent. Still, Julen had heard stories, and he couldn’t listen to them without thinking of Rosemary. But for fate’s whim, each of those women could have been Rosemary. If anyone ever...if they even tried to...there would be a reckoning. He would see to that.
Sadly, details about the priest’s corruption didn’t surprise Julen. The church that his father had attended didn’t preach divine right. But their insistence that man was born to suffer achieved much the same thing. If misery was the path to heaven, why should people struggle to improve their lives, why should they resent those who took so much from them? They would be rewarded later. Later. Julen was, by his nature, a patient man. However, he didn’t plan on postponing happiness until after he was dead.
Julen wished he could ask Railtus more about discovering he was Angelsworn, about hearing the screams of pain. How had he come to terms with it? How had he learned to control his powers? But, as Railtus had pointed out earlier, this was no place to talk of such things. They would have to wait.
“That answers my question very well indeed. Still, one thing puzzles me. How can your father consider you an embarrassment? His standards must be very high or very strange. Compared to you, I have made little enough of my time in this world, and yet I believe that my father was proud of me, in his way.” Julen shook his head, stung by the unfairness of it. “It has always been my hope that one day, when the time is right, Rosemary and I will be blessed with children. If one of them accomplished even half of what you just told me, I would be very proud indeed.”
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Sir Karsimir
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Unsure how else to respond, Railtus struck a fist to his breastplate in salute. This was the highest compliment Julen could have paid him. Then the noble bowed his head. "Thank you, my friend. You honour me." After a moment he raised his head and stood at ease, dropping the formal posture swiftly adopted in the midst of his salute.
"You give your father plenty of reason to be proud. You are a good man, a good husband. You help those in need. These are no small achievements." Once again, Julen, however unconsciously, was comparing himself unfavourably to Railtus. A habit with the potential to be exasperating. Ydrenite teachings described humility as the 'most annoying of the virtues.'
Giving a moment of thought, Railtus shrugged. "Most of the embarrassment was from me shattering the garrison captain's sword arm back at late fifteen." Again, modesty overlooked the fact that Railtus was using a staff against an armoured man with a sword. "Beyond that, I never knew him very much. My tenure as a page began before I was seven. Next I saw him since then, he was having to apologise to the lord who lost the captain. I remember he always considered me frivolous for gathering household leftovers for people who could do with them, one thing he said back then was that 'the peasantry exist to serve us, not the other way around.'" A look of puzzlement crossed the face of the Angelsworn at that concept.
Returning to a broad smile, Railtus added, "One of the risks of being in my service, is that you have to put up with my preaching." A self-depricating grin followed that cheery warning. "One lesson from Ydren is that all kings must eat, yet farmers live their lives without expecting royal audiance. So kings need farmers more than farmers need kings. You might want to think on that."
With the military inclinations of the nobility being as they were, the richer quarter linked neatly to the Fighter's Guild, since mercenaries and trainers would be near to their most likely customers. They would not be far off now.
"You give your father plenty of reason to be proud. You are a good man, a good husband. You help those in need. These are no small achievements." Once again, Julen, however unconsciously, was comparing himself unfavourably to Railtus. A habit with the potential to be exasperating. Ydrenite teachings described humility as the 'most annoying of the virtues.'
Giving a moment of thought, Railtus shrugged. "Most of the embarrassment was from me shattering the garrison captain's sword arm back at late fifteen." Again, modesty overlooked the fact that Railtus was using a staff against an armoured man with a sword. "Beyond that, I never knew him very much. My tenure as a page began before I was seven. Next I saw him since then, he was having to apologise to the lord who lost the captain. I remember he always considered me frivolous for gathering household leftovers for people who could do with them, one thing he said back then was that 'the peasantry exist to serve us, not the other way around.'" A look of puzzlement crossed the face of the Angelsworn at that concept.
Returning to a broad smile, Railtus added, "One of the risks of being in my service, is that you have to put up with my preaching." A self-depricating grin followed that cheery warning. "One lesson from Ydren is that all kings must eat, yet farmers live their lives without expecting royal audiance. So kings need farmers more than farmers need kings. You might want to think on that."
With the military inclinations of the nobility being as they were, the richer quarter linked neatly to the Fighter's Guild, since mercenaries and trainers would be near to their most likely customers. They would not be far off now.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.