Chapter 7: 6. Good memories

Sir Lucius Alden

Good memories

 

The second month of autumn, of 188 NC, brought more rainy days than clear skies. Especially for those moving towards the Northern territories of the kingdom, following the banks of the Canlita Sea. All though in reality a closed lake, its rather brackish waters and gargantuan size, had earned her the rather more impressive moniker.

Shared by both the kingdoms of Kaltha on its north side and Regia on its south, it had one fully populated island. Tiny Valeria, nobility’s favored destination. The most famous vacation haven throughout the Jelin continent, with its sandy beaches, rich forests and the Academy of Senses. The only temple of the Five, fully dedicated to the Goddess of pleasure, Naossis the Red.

Already almost a month on the road, Lucius and his group had made it to Vinterfort in six days, kept up the pace as they followed the Legion-built cobblestone road, to reach Aldenfort on the banks of Canlita Sea in another score of days. From there they traveled, making regular stops, the weather painting the journey unpleasant, but not difficult.

Islandport, the small village-port opposite Valeria Island, was their next brief stop and after that it was a straight shot for Asturia, assuming the stone bridge still stood over the mighty Framtond River, one of the the bigger sources of water for Canlita, along with the much farther away icy Picker’s River, coming down from the disputed Crull mountainous lands.

The sky roared again, the thunder making the expansive dark green waters on their left shoulder, dance an angry tempo; the chill manageable, but there. No rain came down though, which was fortunate. Lucius saw the commotion, just as the first buildings of Islandport appeared, not a kilometer away. The carriage had stopped in the middle of the road and he waited patiently, for Post Antinor and Faust Vistict to work it out, with the enraged redhead, the clever merchant and driver Generidus watching them, but wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Roderick, moved a worn out Butter next to Stormbolt and made a sound with his tongue, probably working on the gap in his teeth again.

“She wants us to test the woods for fresh meat,” He explained.

Zofia.

“What’s wrong with the provisions we got from Aldenfort?” Lucius asked tired. His back bothering him. They were riding since early morning and the sun was ready to set.

“Fresh meat,” Roderick repeated. “Apparently, the salted stuff is too spicy for the lass.”

“She likes the wine,” Lucius commented. “Spicy or not.”

“True that.”

“Perhaps, I need to talk with her,” Lucius offered and Roderick gave him a stare, wrinkled mouth crooked a strange way.

You’ll make matters worse, given your history.

Was what the look meant.

“I’ll better do it,” Roderick said instead, kicking with his legs, so Butter would move forward.

 

 

“There’s… two… people, with red hair. Waiting, in the courtyard. Seem angry as all hell,” A teenage Ralph said breathlessly, pausing on every word to breathe, since he’d run up the stairs. His eyes ogling big as saucers, as if he’d seen a dragon. In the flesh. “The boy’s armour… has fur on it.”

Being the summer, it was strange, but not enough to interrupt him, when he was busy.

Lucius paused, putting his quill in the inkpot, a large stain on the page he was wrestling with for the last hour.

“I was working on something,” He said sourly.

“What’s you writing on?” Ralph stooped over his shoulder interested, pushing him to see his drawing. He did it on purpose.

“A new crest, for my shield,” Lucius replied all tense, failing to sound serious, while shoving him away. He was three years his senior and an accomplished knight. Didn’t have to explain himself to a boy.

“What’s wrong with the old one?”

“It’s like our father’s,” He explained, to his nosy younger brother.

“Looks like an Alden tiger.”

“Mine’s different, see there?” The good part was lost behind the stain and he puffed frustrated.

“Better stick with the old style,” Ralph mocked him, knowing how to twist his cords. “Just my opinion, you don’t have to be so uptight about it.”

Lucius got up, a dour look on his face.

“What do you want?” His tone cautionary.

“Came to warn you,” His brother said, all ominous. Catching him by surprise.

“About what?”

“Heard Roderick speaking with pop’s.”

Lucius frowned.

“You’ve eavesdropped on the King of Regia?”

Ralph shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah. Gonna rat me out? I’m working for you.”

“No, you’re not,” Lucius snapped, “You’re just being your usual curious self.”

Ralph looked outside his first floor window. Impressively large, it let the sun come in and offered a view of the gardens, a major highlight of the King’s Palace in Cartagen.

“Well, you should be as well,” The interest in his brother’s clever eyes palpable. So much so, it compelled Lucius to approach the open window and see for himself.

“Why is that?” Lucius asked, trying to discern the faces of the two people, the King and Roderick were talking with.

“Now I’m useful, huh?” Ralph blackmailed. “How about oiling this curious cat? I have to see a man, about a horse. A good one.”

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“You’re confusing the meanings again,” Lucius said rolling his eyes.

“Are you not, the heir of Regia?” His brother asked, all pompous. Challenging.

Unafraid.

“So?” Lucius snapped ready for a fight.

Ralph, pointed at one of the two newcomers. His father seeing him from below, made a grimace of disapproval that didn’t deter the young man in the least.

“See that busty redhead? The girl, is my meaning.” Ralph said smugly. “That’s your wife.”

 

 

“What’s on yer mind?” Roderick asked him later, after they convinced Zofia to get back on the carriage and moved into Islandport. The village busy, its four spacious taverns full. A surprising number for such a small place. According to the locals, the summer brought throngs of people in. Noble scions, merchants, pleasure seekers and vagabonds, looking for an easy coin.

When the weather turned to winter, the place emptied, but still many made the trip and stayed for a few days to unwind, even later in the season. Mainly from Asturia nearby and Tollor of the Issir Lakelords, right from across the sea, the village and the Island a much quieter place to rest, than the large cities.

You wouldn’t know it, being here now, Lucius thought looking at the packed tavern.

“Random stuff,” He replied vaguely.

“Seen yer face, must’ve been something serious,” Roderick noted, staring at his glass of local wine, see if anything was moving in there.

It wasn’t a great vintage.

“Reminiscing of the past.”

“Ralph, ye mean?”

“Aye, old things. Nothing important,” Lucius replied, tasting his wine. “They make it here as well. The glass. On the island,” He added.

“Ayup. Them priestesses can work magic wit their hands,” The old man commented, adding with a small pause. “But they make shitty wine.”

“Hah, yeah. Zofia likes it at least,” Lucius said with a chuckle, pointing at the inebriated redhead, arguing with a couple of local merchants about prices.

“It’s good to like stuff my Lord,” Roderick said. “Good memories as well, can help.”

“Not much of those,” Lucius reply came out bitter, more that he’d preferred to. “Not about Ralph. Lots of good memories in there.”

“Aye,” Roderick said simply, sensing him turning gloomy.

“I miss him, is all,” He managed to say. The loss looming large. Ache making it difficult to breathe, the place darkening.

“Same here lad,” Roderick replied, his words comforting, pulling him back.

He watched the Northern girl get in a man’s face, skin all flushed, eyes flaming, teeth showing in a gnarl, alike a tigress.

 

 

“It was agreed in seventy three, not my doing, but I had to take it.” King Alistair snarled, the memory still infuriating. “I won a war and instead of a Duchy, I got a brazen maiden.”

Sounding deeply insulted, as if they gifted him a lame horse.

“I don’t even know her.”

“What’s to bloody know? You mount her, seal the marriage. Regia gets a claim on the Duchy. Half the timber of Kaltha, the best half, is cut in Sovya.” King Alistair explained, as if it was that simple. Recent loss of his mother gnawing at him from the inside.

They were all affected, but none more, than King Alistair.

“Father—”

“You want your brother to do it? Is that it?” The King asked, his patience running out. “He offered, to save you. Because you’re overthinking stuff. You will let a boy, do a man’s job, son?”

“I won’t,” Lucius croaked, pride hurt.

“The woman is your responsibility now,” his father said. Words he had to repeat to Lucius years later. Signaling the end of their talk.

Macia, not much older than him, waiting all this time for them to finish. Tigress eyes glaring and taunting, in the same stare.

“Dear wife, I welcome you to the family,” He had said barely managing the words, face as red as her hair.

 

For Regia.

 

 

“He knew what to do, my brother did,” Lucius said, casting the memory aside, his mouth bitter. “Without pause, on instinct,” He added, words lost in the tavern’s ruckus.

“He did. That must is true,” Roderick agreed, somehow catching them, sadness in his old eyes. “Now would that doing, been in the right? That, I can’t tell ye, lad.” He added and they both got a laugh out of that. Raised a toast next, they both did, the moment sober.

For Sir Ralph Alden, the bravest of the brave, who knew what to do and died almost touching, what he most wanted.

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