The Messenger - Reaconia Chapter 2

An old man takes it upon himself to inform the realm of what he thinks is an approaching war. But can he get the word out before it's too late?

Two: The Messenger

Nobody knows I lied, Buur told himself, as he did every day; mostly to convince himself, but also to pass the time. The never-ending road ahead of him looked similar to the last hundred miles he crossed. Buur shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and gave an earnest, impatient sigh. His body ached and he was starting to doze off where he sat. He cracked his neck in a way that his son, Aleks, had mastered, and felt a little relieved.

A song came to mind and he began to hum, the music distracting him from his surroundings. The sway of his saddle kept him in time, which he was grateful; he always seemed to find his pacing to be off, no matter how many times he tried to do it right, especially during mass... when he used to go.

He used to be in so much more control of his life. In times when he was alone like this, his mind automatically traveled back to the times when he was younger; much younger. A time when there wasn't a care to be had; after a marriage to a lovely wife: Ida, and when a baby boy became the focus of his entire world: little Nero, watching him grow into a man, and life was unfolding itself before his very eyes, when everyday was an adventure. That was so long ago, he thought. Before his son's wife died giving birth to Roanan, his beautifully baby grandson. Before Nero took his own life after his wife's death, leaving poor Ida to go mad with grief and leave him. Before his son's cousin and her entire family, all but for a little boy: Aleks, were massacred. Before he struggled to start a new life with two young sons to look after. Before Roanan's young wife had died the same way his mother had, taking with her his delicate baby girl. It had been so difficult then, he remembered.

His thoughts then, as if on their own, turned to how old he was. He had experienced many hardships in his life, far more than joys, he figured. But when he realized that his life was almost over, he told himself that he would suffer another lifetimes worth of hardships just to see his grandson's faces again.

He looked down to wipe the tears welling in his eyes. It was then he noticed the white foam of sweat forming around the straps of his horses saddle, and decided to stop for the night; it had been quite a while since the last time he had rested. He led his horse over to a grassy spot near a small river and hopped out of his seat, stretching his back once he hit the ground. He loosened the straps around his horses belly, and let go of the harness, letting his faithful mare have free roam. He watched her scamper away, her short legs carrying her round frame very awkwardly. That horse was the first animal he had ever bought for Aleks and Roanan, mostly to help them with chores, but also to learn how to ride. The young kid's creative minds had named her Dandelion. But it had changed to Dandy as they got older. Buur was shocked to realize that must have been almost fifteen years ago they had gotten Dandy, and this would probably be the last trip of her long life as well.

He found a long straight branch in a grove down by the water and grabbed a spool of string out of one of his packs and began to fashion a fishing rod. He tied the string to the end of the stick and a small rock on the other end to act as a weight. He had a collection of small hooks that he had won from Orlon in a game of cards. When all was fastened he squished a chunk of cheese on the end for bait and cast out in the water, then there was nothing to do but wait.

The spot around him was rather tranquil: There was a tree, yellowing in the fall months, that grew on his left and served as the perfect spot to lean against. There was another stump out in front of him that stuck out of the water, like the prow of a ship covered in moss. The breeze was ever so subtle and the water gently lapped against the rocky shore, making the orange leaves swirl and flow in the waves. He grabbed a few large rocks and made a crevice to hold his fishing pole as he rested back on his tree.

Moments passed and he was starting to drift off into a light sleep when he heard a splash and the clatter of rocks as his pole fell to the ground, yanked free by an unseen source. He jumped up as quickly as his old bones would let him and picked up the stick, grabbing the tied string and pulling on a heavier weight as the string shook in his hands. The shimmer of an ample fish caught his eye and Buur got excited; he would be able to eat well tonight.

He yanked the fish onto the rocks and pulled out his knife; he held onto the slippery creature as best as he could while he positioned his blade under the left fin and pushed, cutting down to the spine. He grabbed its head and sliced, away from him, towards the fish's tail, and with a quick turn of his blade, he cleared off the scaly skin, leaving a perfect fillet. He repeated the steps on to other side, ignoring the fishes spasms, he watched as its mouth kept opening and closing for water even though its innards where splayed out next to it

He had logs piled next to him, and had used his flint stones to start a blaze. A flat rock served as the perfect tray and he set it on the fire, listening to his dinner sizzle and pop as it cooked. He cast another line while he waited.

He looked up to the sky, watching the stars as they started to appear in the orange sky. He figured he was just to the east of Kingstone, with another six or seven days until he reached his destination of Lossain. A sigh forced its way out from his weary bones. He lost count of how many days he had now been traveling; at the start of his journey, he had trouble sleeping the first couple nights, he had been too nervous and scared and shocked about what he did. Ever since then, keeping track of the days was lost to him. His old mind was probably just playing tricks on him.

It had been a rather comfortable journey thus far, no trouble on the roads and many welcoming inns and taverns. A surprising peace came over him on his trip, which he had not expected, under the circumstances. His light was growing stronger every eventide, and it forced him to come to terms with his final moments. Growing up, he had always heard tales of a light appearing above someone, that nobody else could see, just before they finished their course in this world. It was supposedly being the angel, Sabathiel, coming to lead you to Trea, his Lord. He had never believed in those tales of magic or fate, though, before now. He wondered if Nero had seen a light before he took his own life. Or Elisabell, while giving birth to Roanan's baby.

When he first saw his light, he had been so angry, he found it cruel to know when the end was, what was worse was the thoughts of how he was going to go. Am I sick? I don't feel sick. Maybe there is something wrong with me. But at the same time, he took it as a blessing; it gave him the drive to take this journey, to tell the king about Pyron's army coming onto the mainland, the encroaching soldiers coming into villages and taking townsfolk away to serve in a war he believed to be coming. It was the one thing he wanted to see done before he passed, he would be willing to go if he knew his grandson's and their families could spend their years in peace.

Oh, he missed them so.

He resented lying to them, but he saw no other way. He wished he came up with a better story though; he had said he was going to Plock on an errand, and would be back in a fortnight. He may have been confused about his days, but he knew that his journey had been longer than two weeks. He hoped that the boys didn't come looking for him, they would be so worried when they didn't find him in the neighboring town.

His filet had turned a pale color on the fire as it warmed and he knew it was done, he took it off the fire and flipped it into his wooden bowl. Then he prayed, asking the Lord not to take him before his task was completed, before grabbing his fork and eating.

The fish warmed his belly, along with the ale and bread, and when he had his fill, he rested back against his perch. The darkening sky told him that this was as far as he needed to go today. He extinguished the fire, collected Dandy and set up his bedroll next to the tree by the water. He lay there a while on his side, looking straight ahead, picking the grass next to him, just for something to focus on. The sky was black and nobody was around him, yet out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light above him that illuminated his surroundings, brighter than his fire had been. He tried not to pay any attention to it, but it was impossible to ignore, and it dominated his thoughts. He rolled onto his stomach and pulled his blanket over his head, blocking out the light. Every day he told himself to accept his fate, but every night, it hit him all over again that he was about to die, and it grew more difficult to believe. He would simply have to try harder tomorrow to persuade himself to trust in his exodus.

He fell asleep only for a short time and was awakened by a dream: a dream of dying in the middle of the woods, found by two wayward children, one with blonde hair, the older one with brown. The one with blonde hair knelt beside him and spoke, almost like a whisper: “Grandpa?” was all he said, and that's the last part Buur remembered before jolting upright out of sleep. It scared him, maybe it was a sign that he would not reach Lossain before Sabathiel came to get him.

He knew he would not sleep any more this night and packed up all his things, re-saddled Dandy and set off into the dark woods.

Dandy seemed just as tired as he did. Even though he was there for only a little while, laying on the ground had left him sore and cramped, he cracked his neck again and stretched as best he could sitting atop a horse.

The breeze seemed to stop in the night and there wasn't a sound to be heard, save for the occasional hoot of a night-owl and the clop of Dandy's hooves; it was deeply eerie, and for the first time, Buur was somewhat thankful for the light above him, which cast a soft glow through the trees and he could see where he was going. He wondered if Dandy could see it as well.

The autumn air was brisk, Buur pulled his hood up over his head and tucked his hands in his sleeves to keep warm while he bounced along down the road; he couldn't wait for the sun to come up, his light, along with the cool night air would be gone and he would be able to breathe a little easier.

An overwhelming longing came over him and he grew somber; he thought about all that he had forgotten to do before he left. He had forgotten to say goodbye to so many people: Orlon, in particular would be looking for him to play another game of cards, and lose. And sweet Marias, he missed her almost as much as his grandchildren. She had been so kind to him and his own, and if they were both younger, he would have considered a marriage to her. They both had been without a companion for years and found comfort in each other. Buur would miss her terribly, and he tried to believe he would see her again. He hoped she wouldn't be heartbroken when she learned of his passing, he saw personally what a loss did to people who cared about them, and wouldn't wish that upon his greatest enemy.

Time was again lost and seemed to go on forever until he saw an orange glow in the sky, not coming from the east, but in front of him to the west. He was confused until he rose the crest of a hill and saw the lights of a rising town illuminate the night.

He knew he had reached Kingstone. His spirits lifted slightly at this milestone, he was that much closer to his destination, and his light was dimmed by the few others around him. He had only been to the town once before in his life, he couldn't remember how many years had passed since then (not that he wanted to,) but he sure remembered the town to be much smaller than it was now. It looked as if Kingstone had quadrupled in size, and everything looked new; the houses, all very large were lavish and well-maintained, the people setting up shops were elegant and wore robes of silks, and all of the roads were stone; Buur demounted his horse when he reached the gate and walked Dandy through the town, nodding and waving at the people he passed.

The sun was still hiding away, but yet the town seemed to bustle with activity, he wondered if there was a special market being held today, or a faire. He walked up a friendly-looking old man to find out:

“Good morn to you, Sir!” He called out to him.

“Not set up yet,” the man grumbled without even looking up, “come back later.”

“I was only inquiring as to the occasion.”

The man looked up at that, Buur's light made the man's face defined, “Ah, an outsider” he said, “there is no occasion, we hold all of our markets like this now. Every day, there are more outlaws and bandits roaming these woods, and we were always being robbed and attacked. So market times change constantly and are kept secret for our safety.”

“That's an interesting way of handling it.” Buur said, “but what about city guards? Or the building of a wall?”

“Two months ago, we would have sent that request to the capitol, and it would have been approved; but the king has ordered all militia to Lossain, and with them, all finances. He is the one who suggested switching market times.”

“Why would the king need all his guards there?” Buur asked him.

“Why the hell would I know?” he snapped, “now move along, I've got a business to run.”

“Just one more question.” the man stood and sighed to him, “how do I get to the western gate? I happen to be going to the capitol.” Buur said.

“Keep going down this road until you reach a courtyard, then take the road that goes just right of the cathedral, and you won't miss it.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Tell that king to give us a wall, I hate mornings.” the man grumbled.

With a simple nod, Buur followed his directions down the road. He could see the outline of the cathedral's two towers highlighted by the rising sun. He worried about the news he had just been given. Why would the king need all of his defenses? Could he already know about the Pyrons? Was this trip a wasted effort? He shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind. Even if the king did already know of the rebel soldiers, what could be the harm in reminding him? Maybe he didn't know how far they had come up the coast, or how long they've stayed. In any case, he had come too far to turn around now. So he put one foot in front of the other and continued to the western gate.

By the time he got to the cathedral, the sun was peeking above the trees and roofs and his light had completely disappeared again. The cathedral was the grandest building Buur had ever seen; he stood at it's entrance and looked up as high as he could before it became painful, he had to take off his hat to see the peak of the tallest tower. A cross sat on the vaulted point of the dome, and although it looked rather small from hundreds of feet down, he was sure it was taller than he was, and even Roanan.

He was not a religious man, but he did want to see inside. He knew Dandy would not run away, so he left her in the courtyard and stepped inside. He felt a feeling of great awe come over him as he walked through the door. The room in front of him was impossibly large; great pillars of stone going all the way up to the arched ceiling, which echoed the voices of the people inside, huge windows of colored glass brought in the morning sun and made the room feel holy. He put his head down and prayed, for it seemed like the thing to do here; he whispered to himself, wishing for the day to go on forever, so his light would not appear come nightfall, and for the chance to make it home safely. With that finished, he got one last look of the place before taking his leave.

Dandy was waiting for him outside, like he expected, and walked up to him as Buur came closer; he grabbed the reins and turned left, going to the right of the building down the path the man told him to earlier.

A cry of hunger loudly forced its way out and he looked for the nearest Inn, hoping he would find one along his path to the western gate. He was in luck this morning, he spotted an oval sign lightly swinging on wrought iron chains; it had depicted on it a lovely painting of a white house atop a bright green bluff, and read 'The Green Hill Tavern.' He chuckled at the irony of the sign while stepping through the softening muddy streets to tie up Dandy. He stepped into the tavern, which looked like every other inn he had stopped by on his journeys, and was surprised at how quiet it was; he guessed that all of the townsfolk would be headed to market around this time.

He chose a chair at the bar counter and waved to a full-figured woman in the back room and she sauntered up to him, with a practiced grin on her face. Buur had placed her in her forties, at least he hoped she was that old, he would have felt sorry for her if she was any younger and looked like that.

“'Ello young man, what can I get for you, love?” She said, through a lost front tooth.

He put his mug on the counter and slid it to her, “A draft of light ale, please, and a bread bowl of your heartiest soup, if you would.”

“Coming right up, Sir.” She walked away and Buur found himself very interested in her, perhaps because there was nothing else to stare at; but by the unenthusiastic way she spoke, she did not like working here, and probably is the inheritor from a father or brother. She simply dealt with life because she had to, and Buur found that admirable in a way.

“Where is everyone?!” Buur asked her while she filled his mug, leaving a layer of thick foam hovering above the rim of his glass.

“Haven't you heard? Market this morning.” She slid his leather mug to him.

“I am just traveling through, miss. Quite a situation I heard about your market problems.”

She shrugged, “It's for the best I believe,” she slopped a ladle-full of brown stew into a crusty hollowed loaf, “My father was killed in the last raid, and it's nice that the outlaws never know when we gather, gives us a chance to live, ya'know? My brother is there now, and I don't have to worry 'bout him dyin.”

Her faced showed not one speck of emotion. Buur nodded to her, and drank in place of giving her a response.

The corners of her mouth twitch under her fat cheeks in a smile, “Enjoy your meal, Sir.” She said, and swayed back to her room to hide. Buur scooped a bit of bland stew into his mouth and quickly washed it down with a swig. He fought his way through the rest of his meal, and took out his purse. The meal was hardly worth two grains but, out of charity, he tossed a crag (worth five times more) onto the counter top. The clink of the stone made her come back out to make sure he paid.

“Good day to you, ma'am.” he said before taking his leave.

“Thank you, love.” she said, still in her monotone. He wondered if she had noticed her generous tip.

He brought the bowl portion of his bread outside and fed it to Dandy, who eagerly helped herself as Buur untied her and continued down the paved road. He rounded a wide corner through tall houses and could see the gate leading west and the looming forest beyond. As much as he did not want to travel through the woods anymore, he was happy to continue his travels; he would be to Lossain in just a couple days if he pushed it, and then he hopefully could have more time to make it back home. He felt a new wind of determination push him down his path.

He looked up to the sky. By the position of the sun, it was not long after midday, the time when it was the hottest. Even though the autumn months where right around the corner, the heat still caused him to feel faint and he took off his hat to wipe his brow. He had already removed his cloak and doublet, and was starting to sweat through his under-tunic. His new-found determination was starting to fade. He was glad to see up ahead that the trees grew together like a canopy over the road, and he could travel in the shade for a while.

His road would be relatively easy from now on, he thought. Since he left Kingstone, his path was flat, and would start to slope downhill towards the coast. He was eager to see the ocean again, for a change of scenery, he hadn't set foot on the Imball coast for quite some time; he had traveled with his parents to Bay City almost fifty years ago to meet his new young bride, Ida. He couldn't remember being this far from home since then.

Up the path a ways, it looked like a weary traveler was appreciating the shade as much as Buur was. He was on the side of the road and looked to be sleeping; resting his head on his pack, his horses reins were looped around his wrist. Buur hoped he would not wake the man as he passed, and led Dandy to the far side if the path to avoid him. As he got closer, though, he saw the man's eyes were open and he simply laid there, looking as if to be eerily waiting for something. The man turned his head to acknowledge Buur, “You got any water, Sir?”

Buur was hesitant for a moment and looked over the man, trying to gauge his intentions. When he saw no harm in the act, he handed the man his tankard, “Not much, but of course I will share.”

The man drank greedily, wiping his mouth on a dirty sleeve when he finished. “You should get that filled, not many stops past here.” he said, then asked: “Where are you headed?”

“Lossain, if it is anything to you.” Buur replied, becoming impatient with the man.

“Do you mind if I tag along with you?” he pleaded.

“Yes, actually, I am in quite a hurry.”

“Oh, I won't be a bother. Just feel safer is all, this road's not safe for anyone alone, with the outlaws and all.”

Buur saw a hint of desperation in the man's brown eyes, maybe something had happened to him already; he looked a fright: his dark blonde hair was greasy and stuck out in every direction, his clothes; thin and ragged, were also dirty and disheveled, the collar of his shirt was open, revealing burnt and blistered skin. In a moment of pity, Buur nodded his head at the man, whose face lit up immediately. He clapped his hands and jumped in place, and Buur wondered if he had made a grave mistake.

“Let us get going, then. I must be in Lossain by tomorrow's eve.” Buur said, kicking Dandy ahead some.

The other man hurried in gathering his belongings; he tied his packs and slung them over the hind quarters of his horse, and jumped onto its saddle-less back, whipping the reins to spur the horse to catch up with Buur.

“This is going to be great.” he said, “What is your name, friend.”

Buur pondered again whether or not to tell him, “Buur... and I am not your friend.”

With that, the man kept quiet, and there was a long silence between the two. Buur reflected on his actions and decided to give this man the benefit of the doubt, “And what is your name?”

He perked up again, pulling his horse right next to Buur, “Ansell, and that means we are friends now.”

Buur allowed himself a laugh, “And where are are you from, Ansell?”

“Whiterock,” he said, “how 'bout yourself?”

“Pilant, I have come quite a long ways.” Buur told him.

A flash of fear spread across Ansell's face, and Buur wondered if he had said something wrong.

“Did you happen to go through Whiterock on your journeys?” Ansell asked, almost desperately.

“No, I wanted to avoid the mountain passes, Dandy here can't handle it.” he patted her on the neck.

Ansell looked relieved, almost as if that was the correct answer, he fished for something to say back, “It is a disastrous place now, you were good to avoid it.”

“What happened?” Buur asked, suddenly curious.

“It is a long story, Sir, as is how I got here.”

“All we've got is time.” Buur said, he decided a friend on the road could prove to be a good thing; it would keep him distracted from his thoughts and make the hours go by quickly.

“There is a war comin'.” he said, a little too matter-of-fact for Buur's taste, “They invaded our town, burned our crops, and took my sons. Left me flat is what they did.”

“I am sorry for your loses, Ansell.” Buur said, not knowing what else to. “Who is 'they'?” he asked.

For the first time the two made eye contact, “The Pyrons, from Bale.” he said. A chill made the hair stand up on the back of Buur's neck, and he sighed in relief.

I knew it.

Every suspicion, every thought he had was just confirmed, and Buur couldn't have been happier to hear such news. He knew then, that his journey and everything he sacrificed was all worth it.

He tried to hide his joy, “Why are you going to Lossain then?”

“It's the last place that I had any word of my other family.” Ansell replied, “I'll be looking for work there.” That seemed to be all that he was going to say on the subject, “'Guess that wasn't a long story after all.” he said.

“I am going to speak to the King.” Buur told him, he couldn't hold it in anymore; his plans filled his mind for as long as he could remember, and they needed to be released. Again, Ansell looked very pleased with the news from his new friend. Buur kept talking, impossible to stop from the moment he started; it felt so good to have this weight lifted from his shoulders. “I suspected that they were around. I noticed hints of their travels and heard rumors from the neighboring towns.” he continued, “I am growing old, Ansell, and I wanted to help as much as I can.”

“That's quite an interesting tale, friend.” Ansell said, not even taking the time to look in Buur's direction. He simply looked ahead, “I feel like I was meant to meet you, Buur.” he said, “perhaps you could speak to the king on my behalf as well.”

“I can mention Whiterock if you would like; from your tales, that seems to be the place hardest hit, I haven't heard word of anywhere else of that extreme.”

“I would be pleased if you would.” Ansell replied.

“Perhaps you would like to present yourself beside me, Ansell? A united front for the same cause.”

“I would prefer to stay out of conflict,” he said, there was a hint of cowardice to his voice, “I've never been one to stand up for myself... that's why you found me a dirty mess on the side of the road.”

“Suit yourself then.”

“I've got family I should be seekin' out anyways, that's the first thing I should be doin'.”

For a long while, it was quiet between the two again, and Buur had a feeling that everything they had to say to each other was said.

Darkness began to work it's way through the sky again, and Buur's stomach growled hungrily. “What do you say we stop for a meal, eh?” he asked Ansell.

“I would say that is a mighty fine idea.” he replied, he seemed to look more pathetic every time that Buur looked at him.

“I believe I have a couple of fish left over from yesterday.” Buur pulled over to the side of the path and jumped from Dandy, making a ring of dust fly up around him; he paused when a shock went through his old joints and it took him a moment to recover. He dug through his saddle bag and found his leather pack, which he set down and rolled out. There were two pale filets of fish surrounded by ice and a layer of sawdust to keep it frozen.

“You've been holding out on me, old mad!” Ansell said. This was the most excited Buur had seen him since their journey together started. “I'll go get some firewood,” he said, initiating the building of a small camp.

Buur had laid his bedroll out on the ground, gave the horses a handful of grain before letting them roam, and had cleaned up all before Ansell had returned.

“You've been gone a while.” Buur stated, watching the man walk to him holding a mediocre pile of wood.

“A terrible call of nature crept up on me, a s**t like none other.” he said, bluntly. “Not sure what could've caused it though, beins all I've eaten today was water.”

“Just light the fire.” Buur said, not wanting to hear the details.

He did just that, banging two flint stones together until a spark caught the dry brush underneath their logs.

Dinner, though it was late, proved very satisfying and a warm sensation filled Buur's belly. He lied on his back, looking up at the stars and listening to his surroundings. He heard a belch resonate from where Ansell was laying on the ground. He was growing tired of his company; their conversations were getting stale and the man was rude, never giving a complement or thanks for anything; he was simply using Buur for food and protection and they would depart once they reached Lossain, and Buur would never get anything back.

His light was above him again, and this time he stared at it, as long as he could, through squinted eyes. It was unbelievably bright and he had to turn away and blink. Even through closed eyes, he could still see the light, and it made a tear fall across his cheek; whether it was a side effect of the light or pure emotion he did not know. He was growing scared, he had one more days journey before he could speak to the king, and he knew he would probably never make it back home.

Before too long, he started to drift off into sleep; his thoughts becoming more peaceful as he once again came to terms with his fate.

At least I have come this far was his final thought before his eyes closed and his light vanished for the night.

Ansell was the first to rise in the morning, and was amazed at how bright it had become. He thought Buur would have wanted to be on the road already, beings he seemed to be in a hurry. He stood and stretched, wiping the dirt from his clothes and noticed that Buur was still on the ground in deep sleep; he had rolled off of his bedroll and didn't look to be moving.

For a moment, Ansell pondered what to do. 'What if he is dead?' Was the first thought to cross his mind, followed by 'who will speak to the king?' And 'what do I do with him?'

He inched forward, carefully watching the old man, looking for any sign of movement. He paused when he stood over Buur and waited. After a moment, Ansell crouched down and reached his hand out directly under Buur's nose, feeling for any sign of breath.

In an instant, Buur opened his eyes and looked up to him, screaming when he saw Ansell so close. He started coughing and choking, “What are you doing?” he yelled once he caught his breath.

“I thought you were dead, friend. I was... checking,” Ansell replied, a little embarrassed.

“Well you keep your smelly fingers away from my face!” Buur choked one last time.

All Ansell could do then was laugh, “Of course that's all you would be worried about old man!”

It was the most genuine moment the two had shared thus far and Buur relished in it, it felt so wonderful to laugh again, and couldn't remember the last time he did so.

“You looked so pale and still.” Ansell said.

“That's what happens when you get old, I've noticed. My breathing is slower and I'm always cold, just you wait.” Buur said back to him in a playfully threatening tone.

Buur began to pack up his things, rolling up his bed and collecting Dandy. He felt a sense of peace wash over him, it was the first night in a long while that he wasn't worried of making it home, or finishing his plans before his death; probably not since before his light had appeared for the first time, much dimmer than it is now. It was also the first night he could remember where his dreams were happy; he dreamed of times when the boys were younger and he watched them play; and of Ida, sitting with her on the beach sharing a romantic moment in a time long ago.

It didn't even bother him that he got a late start to the day, he got on his horse and continued west on his path with a new outlook to the final days of his life.

The morning seemed to fly by as the went on, and the two men had been talking amiably the whole time, and the tension between them melted away.

“Tell me about your children.” Buur said to him, wanting to know more of his story.

Ansell looked surprised by the statement, and had a lost look in his eyes, “excuse me, sir?” he said back.

“You said you have children, sons. I want to know about them.”

“Ah yes,” Ansell said, “my boys, I have, uh, two of them. Coley is my oldest son, little rascal that boy, uh, always getting into things; he loves to take things apart and put them back together, and was never interested in fighting or work. He is, uh, sixteen now. And then my younger boy... Jaren, he is the complete opposite, strongest boy you would have ever met, huge for his age. Short temper to that one, he always did his work though, and picked on his older brother. He's been chasing girls since he could walk, much like his father in that regard.” He laughed to himself.

Buur looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face, he didn't believe a word Ansell just told him. When a man normally talks about his children, there is a pride to him that nothing else can provide, an overwhelming sense of joy that they emanate. And Buur felt none of that, yet he pretended differently, “Sounds like they were quite a handful growing up.” he said, feigning a smile.

“Oh yes. I do worry about them now, though, especially Coley, I know he won't do well in battle.” Ansell said, seeming quick to change the conversation, “And do you have any offspring of your own, old man?”

“I do, in fact, two boys, much like yourself.” Buur said.

“Oh?” was all he heard back.

“They are my grandchildren actually, and one of them is not even mine. My own son, you see, took his own life more than twenty years ago now, he couldn't handle the sadness of losing his wife. He was the strongest person I knew until then, he grew into a dark mood and it seemed nothing could pull him out of it. But my grandson, Roanan, is like his father in every way, before his death; he is tall, handsome, and always thinking of others, and everyone he meets loves him and depends on him,” a tear formed in his eye, “he is a truly kind man, and would have been a wonderful father, he is so strong and courageous.”

“And then there is my other son, Aleksandar. We took him in when he was just a boy, his mother was a relation of mine and his whole family was murdered in the last Pyron raid ten years ago. That boy has gone to hell and back, and still has a smile on his face every day, he rose above it all, and strives every day to be better. I am always inspired by him, he never gave up and I admire that more than he'll ever know. I love them both more than anything.” Buur finished, wiping said tear from his cheek, he didn't realize how much he missed them until he talked about them.

“That's powerful, Buur.” Ansell said, seeming to not have anything else too.

Buur wondered why the man would lie about his own children, but decided to put it behind him. He did not know the man well enough to question him on the matter.

Not a word was spoken between the two for miles, albeit the occasional cough or belch, until they came upon a bald man in green robes pulling a cart behind him.

“Hello, good sir, were are you headed?” Buur asked him, eager to interact with someone other than Ansell, who seemed tense at the arrival of another soul.

“The bridge crossing,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow, “that is where I sell my soup.”

Buur saw steam rising from his cart, and his mouth watered, “how much farther do you have to go?”

“Little more than two leagues.” he said,

“Do you know how much farther after that it is to Lossain?” Buur asked.

“Across the bridge.” He said with a laugh, “I can tell you have never been here before, traveler!”

“Well pull your cart the rest of the way in exchange for a good meal.” Buur said happily, he was surprised at how close he was to the capitol, and suddenly became nervous inside at the thought of speaking to the king.

“I would be very grateful.”

Buur had rope in his bag and looped it through the handle of the man's soup cart, tying it to a notch on the back of his saddle. He got off Dandy and walked along next to his new companion, “I need to stretch my tired legs,” he said. The man smiled to him and asked him about his journey, which Buur happily told, leaving out most of the details he had told Ansell about. They walked on either side of the cart to keep it from rocking, and Ansell rode ahead of them, brooding silently from atop his horse. He hadn't said a word since that morning, which Buur was happy about, no matter how unsettling it was; perhaps he suspected that Buur did not believe him and didn't want to bring any more suspicion to him.

A clearing came into view ahead of them, and the sun started to show itself a little more every step they took closer to it. The forest gave way to farmland and he felt a lovely breeze again. Buur felt as if he could collapse from excitement; he had finally made it to the capitol. After countless days of travel, he arrived at his destination.

The three strangers rounded a bend in the road and Buur saw a great wall ahead of him, meticulously detailed and carved out of stone and brick, with round battlement towers sparsely dotting the top; which had probably just recently come back into use. Ivy weaved itself up the wall in most places, still a bright green in the late months, and contrasted beautifully with the bronze and red stone. It wasn't until they got closer that Buur saw an immense ravine that separated them from the capitol.

“The Golden Sun Bridge is a little farther down the path, just this way.” the man said, pointing to the right. They turned and followed along the edge of the cliff. Buur felt uneasy when he noticed how far and steep of a drop it was down into the ravine, so he averted his gaze to the giant wall that seemed to never end. Aside from the cathedral he passed in Kingstone, this was the grandest thing he had ever seen.

The bridge came into view, just like the man, who called himself Jaido, had said; and again Buur was blown away by what he saw. Great pillars of the same colored stone came from the bottom of the ravine, branching out to make a tangle of elegant archways, they were polished and shimmered in the sunlight. They were mirrored by vaulted arcs that spanned the length of the bridge, hovering far above the smooth white-stained flagstone path. Buur noticed, when they got closer, that white marble snakes whirled their way down every arch, where their tails met, was the sigil of the Royals; the crowned sun of the Sease-Beauvoir. He marveled at the scale of it all and forgot for a moment that he wasn't alone.

“This is where I set up my cart,” Jaido said, guiding Dandy into the right place for them to unload, and Buur took the rope off her saddle. Jaido opened the door on the bottom of his cart and stoked the small fire that was inside, like he did a number of times on the way, “Still hot it seems. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for your help.” Buur handed him two wooden bowls and watched eagerly as Jaido filled them. They waved goodbye to each other and he and Ansell made their way across the bridge, nodding to cart-pullers and the wave of new faces coming in and out of the capitol.

It was slow-going at first, but once they reached the gates, it was easier to get through the mass of people. Buur marveled at the size of the town and instantly regretted not coming here before this. All of the streets were a paved cobblestone, with large open shops lining the edges, with houses on top that rose in peaks high above the streets. Merchants and shoppers bustled about dressed in fine robes and garments; even the poor here made better than the wealthiest man in Pilant.

There was a ramble of voices filling the air with gossip, negotiations and discourse, and Ansell said something to him that he couldn't quite hear. Buur backed up Dandy as best he could to hear his travel companion.

“I don't know how I am going to find my family in all these people,” he said, a look of shock plastered on his face.

“I will help you once I am done speaking to the king if you would like?” Buur said back, maybe he could get in one more selfless act before his end.

“Do you imagine the king would speak to you tonight?” Ansell questioned, looking towards where the sun was starting to set. Buur had failed to think of that, and he hated the idea of waiting another day. Either way, at least I am here at last. Buur thought to himself, “There is only one way to find out,” he said to Ansell.

The two pushed their way through until they were out of the market place and less people blocked their path. Buur could see the castle peaks soaring high above the rooftops. The castle sat on a hill overlooking the town, but he did not have the faintest idea on how to get there. A right turn took him to a main road where he stopped and asked a lovely young lady where to go; she had long blonde hair and wore a dress as blue as the sea, much like her eyes. She lifted back the hood of her cloak and replied in the most angelic voice, “Down this road until you get past the Guildhall, then a left uphill, go past the church and you're at the front gates.” she said.

“Thank you, milady.”

“My lord.” she said, and performed the most delicate, refined curtsey that Buur had ever seen before pulling up her hood and walking away. Buur felt a sting of pride, he couldn't remember the last time someone had called him a lord, much less, a lady who was obviously higher class. She was a remarkable girl.

Ansell followed Buur down the road, keeping silent the whole way, almost as if he was an escort; making sure that he made it to the castle. Buur began to doubt the trust he had in his friend; it seemed that the closer they got to the city, the more distant he became. He decided to put it behind him; come tomorrow, he wouldn't have to see Ansell again.

The castle gates appeared before them, just as the girl had said, and Buur saw to guards standing stoically in front, each of them holding long spears.

“Halt, in the name of the King!” they said simultaneously, “state your business here this evening.” One of them said. Buur demounted and walked up to them, “I wish to have a conference with His Majesty.” he said shyly, the guards made the atmosphere around them much more intimidating than needed. They crossed the two spears between them to deny entry, even though Buur had not advanced. He saw the crowned sun sigil again, emblazoned across their chests on a silver breastplate. The other replied to Buur after an awkward moment, “His Majesty, Drom Sease, has retired for the evening. Chancellor Diversey, the royal chair, usually holds conference come high noon. There is one tomorrow.”

“It really is a matter of urgency that I speak to the King.”

“Do you have invitation?” the first guard said, he was quite rude.

“No, I do not, but I have come such a long wa---”

“Then His Majesty is retired.” And that was all that was going to be said on the matter, the guards returned to their statuesque positions.

Buur turned Dandy around and Ansell followed as they made their way back downhill. He felt crushed, he had come so close to realizing his dreams and then they were stolen out from under him. He hoped his resolve would not weaken by tomorrow.

“Well, Ansell, what's next?” Buur asked him in a somber tone.

“It is getting dark now, my family can wait until tomorrow, I'm gonna use the last of my grains for an ale and a w***e. I suggest you do the same, old man.” He replied.

“So this is goodbye then I presume?” Buur asked, ignoring that last statement.

“I guess it is.”

“Well then, so long, Ansell.” Buur started to lead Dandy away without ever looking back, when Ansell called to him: “Old man! There are a lot of people counting on you, and thank you for speaking to the king.”

Buur was shocked, “Are you being polite?” he shouted back.

The last Buur saw of Ansell, he turned and rode away with a huge grin on his face.

Perhaps I found a friend in him after all.

Buur found himself alone again, but with his spirits lifted. It had been eerily quiet until he recognized a sound that pulled at the back of his memories: the crash of water on a sandy shore; he got a whiff of salt in the air and knew he was close. He weaved down streets and in between houses until the waves were as loud as they could possibly get, and the wind blew itself as hard as it wanted. He unpacked his cloak from his saddlebag, and pulled it up around his ears; age made him cold so easily. He felt the sand squish under his feet as he pulled Dandy behind him; soon, all that he saw before him was darkness. Pilant was a league at most from the Beyond, but he never went up there anymore, he knew Aleks and Roanan did all the time, but the cliffs were too hard to manage for him, and he never cared for it; the Imball Sea held a special place in his heart. His thoughts switched to Ida without him asking too.

He felt in the front pocket of his cloak and found a charm that he had made long ago, tied to one of the drawstrings. It had been so long since he tied it there, but it still looked new, like it was made the day before: A red gem, carved in the shape of a heart, with the letters “I. D. A.” engraved into its back. He had made two when they were in love, and he wondered if she still had his heart.

With one final glance at the trinket he made a lifetime ago, he tossed it into the water, his light appearing just in time to make it shimmer as it sank out of sight under the waves.

Author's Note

Hope you enjoy this one!