The sun had begun its long trail downwards. Harlowe insisted upon getting their family celebration done as soon as possible as to allow Nila the chance to get some rest before her studies the next day. Roden never hesitated to tell her how smart she was.
"I hate the waiting," Nila said, skipping along beside Roden. Her pricy boots clicked against the cobblestone courtyard. In a vain attempt to distract his niece, Roden had asked her to come and inspect his gelding, Galahad. "I just want to start the celebrating, Papa said he'd purchased apples in caramel."
When given the chance, Nila could chatter the day away. She was an ample companion when one had absolutely no desire to speak. Roden indicated for her to give up more details on her favorite holiday traditions, she went on to talk about how much she liked waking up the next morning and catching woodsmoke on the air.
He held the door to the stable door open for her once they'd reached the large building. Inside, expensive covered oil lamps lit up the pristine interior. "I'll give you a half-garlin if you can brush down Galahad."
"I'm a lady, ladies don't clean horses," Nila insisted, tossing her pretty honey-colored hair over her shoulder.
"I'm going to have to speak with whoever it is that taught you that," Roden rolled his eyes and retrieved the bucket that held numerous ivory brushes. He handed one to Nila despite her insistence that she didn't need to do any chores.
Nila began to halfheartedly brush out Galahad's matted mane, "Viola says a lady never needs to do work."
"Viola is a duchess, she's used to a large household." Quick to defend Viola's good name, as always.
"So?"
"So Father doesn't like large households, and when you go back to Libeth with him come spring, you'll have to care for your horse. Alone."
Nila didn't hold back her reasons behind why that idea was completely stupid. "I have an allowance, I'll find someone to do my chores."
"Good luck with that."
"Good luck with what?" Harlowe had come to drag his family back upstairs and up into the tower where the intended party was to happen.
"Papa!" Nila cried once she saw her grandfather's face in the cozy stables. He laughed when he saw Nila brushing down Roden's great horse, which as tall as both men. The large horse had come from Gelyn, its had white feathering above its huge hooves, and a coat grayer than a storming sky. Nila somehow managed to still look like the noblewoman she was destined to be. "Roden's picking on me!"
"Then I suppose that means you don't need my help with Galahad then," Roden teased, crossing his arms over his fairly loose dark shirt. He'd changed his clothing since his meeting with Viola for something more practical, something easier to be himself in.
Harlowe chuckled, standing near the front of the great horse. He kindly patted her velvet nose, and then moved to take a brush from the wood bucket on the floor. "He's got a point my dear."
"I could care for an entire stable horses all by myself," Nila insisted, and proceeded to furiously brush the mare in the next stall. "See? I told you so."
Roden made a face, and beckoned for his father to brush down Galahad's side. The gelding whickered lowly, he nipped at the sleeve of Roden's shirt. In turn, Roden pushed Galahad's head away from him.
"You look upset," Nila pointed out after several minutes of silence.
He shook his head before giving a complete answer. "I'm alright.. Just tired."
He'd stewed over the thought of going back into battle on Gelynian soil. He'd stewed over his insecurities Viola brought to the surface. Boiling over negative feelings caused Roden to look rather upset.
Harlowe exchanged a not so subtle glance with Nila, the pair had become fluent in an unspoken language that came in handy in times like this. Nila announced that she needed to practice her flute so she could impress the King tonight, and left the cozy stables. Harlowe turned his full attention to his son then, his pale eyes slightly concerned. "You're not really tired, aren't you? Is there something else?"
Roden didn't like lying to his father, but in this case, maybe it was for the best. In Rose's small shop, Viola had convinced him to accompany her to a more private room to view the falling stars and watch the bonfires of common folk from a distance. She'd promised to tell him so much more of what she'd kept a secret for so long. Her words wrapped themselves around Roden's mind, clouding his judgement to a degree. The situation seemed rushed and made him a little skittish about seeing her. He blamed it upon nervousness for his wedding in two months. After much hesitation, however, Roden nodded.
"I'm worried about Viola," He finally confessed.
A sound of acknowledgement left Harlowe's mouth, "Why? What worries you?"
It was another moment or two before Roden shared the cryptic message his betrothed had told him, Harlowe gave his wise response referring to how women thought and expressed things differently; everyone approved of Viola.
"I dunno, wedding jitters I suppose," Roden loved speaking with his father, he'd longed for that sense of security as a small boy before that need had been put out like a flame during a rainy night. Harlowe brought a new sense of confidence, somebody to rely on, rather than awkwardly asking Mott for help with something trivial. They continued speaking, weaving in and out of different subjects as they finished grooming Roden's horse, and began the trek to the warmer sector of the palace while discussing the Blood Wood in hushed voices.
"Willem Bailiff and I rode through the center of the woods. During our last hunt, I wasn't aware that there were people living in there," Roden said, rubbing the side of his nose. "It was like a village, civilized almost. It didn't seem to me like any pagan savages were among the townsfolk. They avoided us."
"I remember when that village came into existence. My father, your grandfather, had supplied those who would tame the wood with ample tools." Harlowe's plain boots made a small clicking noise as the pair passed through a small courtyard, the large door leading to the castle kitchens but a few yards away. "Half returned within four weeks, the other half likely died, that place is.. Home to the devils."
"And I'll be the first one to go through the entirety of the Wood and return alive," Roden beamed, stepping slightly ahead of his father to open the large door for him. A brown haired ladies' maid was leaving the kitchen. She was new to the castle, personally selected by the Duchess Viola to attend to her every need. Roden racked his brain for a name; it was either Gwen or Gleaner. He didn't pay much attention to her. "The pagans will all swear fealty to me."
Harlowe threw back his head and laughed, "Only if you remember to bring me back a twig, or a souvenir. Your tall tales are getting harder and harder to believe."
"They're completely believable!"
"If you say so," he chuckled, now leading the way to the exit of the kitchen. The exit led to three hallways in different directions. The one to the right led to Jaron's close knit circle; the one to the left led to the secluded drawing room where Roden planned to meet Viola in several hours. For a moment, Roden forgot his unusual concerns. He looked forwards to catching up with his friends once again.
Harlowe cleared his throat, turning to the right staircase, "On a more serious note, I think we should discuss what was said today in the regents' room."
Inwardly, Roden groaned. His outbursts were dreadfully infamous, they always managed to come back and haunt him. He'd tried his best to control his temper. Roden and his father quickly ascended the spiraling stone staircase, exiting into yet another one of Drylliad's glittering hallways. "I've already talked about it with the queen."
"That's not really what I mean to discuss, Gelyn's situation concerns me, but I'm more concerned with you," Harlowe said, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Right, well, I'm fine so don't worry about it," Roden huffed defensively. "Really, I have no idea what you'd even be concerned about, is what I said about my worries for Viola not enough?"
Harlowe held his ground against Roden's accusing comments. He nodded his head at a passing servant, "You've been experiencing the sort of battle shock again, aren't you? You're blaming most of your stress on Viola."
"I don't need help," Roden insisted. He most certainly was not blaming all of his problems on Viola! Though what his father said about the battle shock wasn't very far off; Roden simply didn't know any better than to block off his feelings. "What does what I said in the meeting have to do with my problems?"
"It's a phenomena that is sometimes seen in seasoned warriors," Harlowe shrugged. He paused for a moment to cast a glance out of the window nearest to him. "You grow battle hungry."
"I haven't been in a real war since I was 15 years old."
"A battle is different from a war, do you remember your little excursion into Avenia last year? Helping the pirates and getting caught in the process?" Harlowe pointed out. His tone was neither scolding nor coddling, a perfect balance of each.
That small adventure was spoken about by no one, Roden preferred it that way. His time with the pirates had been filled with bitter emotions, but many of those in Tarblade Bay were good friends. Eric the Pirate King had asked help from Jaron personally. At the time, Imogen had gone into labor, Roden had gone to aid the pirates.
Like his time during the bloodiest battles of the Great War, Roden didn't like talking about it. "What about it?"
"It's made yoou battle hungry again. And there's other things, too. Little things. You can't do anything without keeping a hand at your sword."
At Harlowe's mention Roden realized he'd been right. The gesture was calming, it ushered in security. He'd grown accustomed to his new habits, like eyeing anybody he didn't know in case they were plotting some surprise attack. Roden consciously forced himself to drop his sword. He didn't make a sound, he couldn't admit that his father was even partially right.
"I love you, very much, it pains me knowing that there's so much about you that you'll never tell me," Harlowe set a hand on Roden's shoulder, both men were nearly at the same height. "At least speak to someone you trust, like Jaron or Tobias."
Roden casually brushed his hand away, "I'm fine, I promise. If you'll excuse me, I've got to speak with.. Somebody."
A lie, of course, but having a reason to walk away from his father and the stability around him was better than confessing his innermost thoughts in a public hallway. Roden walked away in the opposite direction as quickly as he could. He hadn't bothered to give Harlowe a proper farewell. His heart beat like a drum in his ears; his palms grew slick with sweat, and went to rest at his sword hilt once again.
Without thinking, Roden found himself walking briskly towards Tobias' physician's chambers, the only place Tobias could be on a lazy afternoon. All about him life continued on, but Roden couldn't hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears. Who else had noticed his little habits his 'battle shock' had wrought?
"Tobias, it's Roden," He said, knocking on the door to the physician's chamber.
Strategically placed as close to the ground as possible, the physician's chamber was fairly small, meant for the treatment of one or two people at a time rather than caring for a large group. A large shelf made up one side and sported all sorts of herbs and bottles of anything imaginable. There was an alcove bed opposite the shelf of bottles, and two stained glass windows. Rose of Wiccan's Way would've loved working in the physician's room.
The door creaked open, and Tobias' pale face peered up at Roden, "I'm out of Syligan Weed."
"I'm not asking for Syligan Weed, I'm an engaged man," Roden said defensively, pushing the door open farther and bursting into the physician's room.
"You're not exactly known for keeping it in y-," Tobias began.
"Can't help it, I get around better than you do," Roden insisted, walking over to the wall of herbs and bottles.
Tobias quickly caught up to him, "In my defense I am married to a princess."
"Point noted and ignored, which one of these is going to help me sleep better?"
"Lonely because you haven't got some poor girl in your bed keeping you warm?" Tobias teased, reaching for a purple bottle of something. He shuffled over to his work table, which was neat and tidy. "Teasing, I thought I'd try more of a sense of humor. Bad dreams keeping you awake or can you just not sleep?"
"Just can't get to sleep," Roden lied. He'd realized shortly after entering the room that there was no way in the Devils' Lair that he'd talk about his memories of war.
He was dumping several small herbs into a bag, in no time, Tobias was finished. "Leave this by your bed, it should make you relax, if it doesn't work in a week, you know where to find me."
"Thanks," He bit the inside of his cheek, there was something more skittish about Tobias. More busy than usual. "Are you alright?"
"Amarinda might be pregnant again and I dunno just concerned because that scares me not that you'd understand because you've never had kids but what if-" he paused to inhale, calming himself. "It's different this time? Not that you needed to know, nothing's been confirmed yet."
Roden nodded, slowly inching towards the door. Talk about his friends' families made him envious, "Congratulations."
"She might not even be with child, but I hope she is," Tobias paused in his busy work to stare wistfully at the wall across from him. He jumped back to reality, "Now shoo, I've got to find my kids and make sure they haven't brought Hell to the castle."
"Thanks again, Tobias, I hope things go as you hope they do," Roden grinned, the herbal packet in his hands. He left the small room, once again wandering aimlessly.
How could he ever end up like Jaron and Imogen, or Tobias and Amarinda?