Chapter 9: Socrates Reminisces
The night had settled the commotion that had risen during the afternoon. The soldiers have made themselves temporary lodgings of tents and hovels for the night. Most did not dare intrude upon another's household. They could not ask them for so much as shelter. They withheld themselves either out of pride or out of shame. In any case, I made my rounds among them to see if they have settled in well. Many were surprisingly comfortable even if they did not have a roof over their head as they slept. They told me…that for once they were able to sleep a night without fear of being attacked by the Undead. I merely smiled and waved away this thought. It is a false sense of security but I was not one to take it away from them.
Calm rested upon the village and many were resting peaceably. Sounds of the night were all that could be heard now. The collage of mixed noises faded into the blackness of the night. I could see that most of the village was at rest…it is a pity that I am not. I could not bring myself to rest, only contemplation. I contemplated as I was patrolling the grounds of the village. I had passed by the guards of the inner gate and made sure they remained vigilant. Half could barely raise their eyes up off the ground. It has been a tiring day, yet I remain restless.
Before finishing my rounds, I had noticed there was still a light within the town hall. I creaked open the front doors to investigate. A single candle remained lit upon the council table although the other candles had already been put out. By the light of the candle, I could see Socrates still sitting upon his chair and resting his head upon his folded hands. It has seemed he did not leave the town hall after the uproar.
"You will not take to rest, Socrates?" I asked him and he raised his head upwards.
"Rest? I have not known rest for quite some time, Orias. Not after this, not after all of this. It has become difficult to rest."
Socrates rose from his seat and walked toward one of the windows of the town hall. The moon was full outside, a glorious sight to behold on a night like this. But I could see that Socrates was not looking out for the beauties of night.
"Have you come from your rounds?" He said finally after a moment of silence had passed.
I merely nodded and he shifted back into his seat.
"I would think you would want to rest, Socrates. It was quite a heated debate between you and Arisman. Although, if you will forgive me, this would not have been the first time that happened."
Socrates chuckled and rested in his seat more comfortably.
"Yes, Arisman has become even bitterer with each passing day. It is not our right to blame him for his character. He has only known finery being an official of the court. To be knocked down to this existence however has embittered him deeply. He may be a waste of effort to argue with but to argue in order to satiate his self-conscious right that he still holds some control, even though this has become beyond everyone's control."
Socrates sighed deeply and looked upon his aged hands.
"It is a wonder, Orias. A wonder indeed…how quickly time passes."
I took a seat just across from Socrates. He had taken out a small book from his robes and opened it. It was tattered and aged but it seemed to be filled with writings that I assumed were written by Socrates.
"It seemed only yesterday, I found a young boy who was reading out of the great libraries of the Capital City. And now I see him before me, a man who has taken up the responsibility to protect our last few peoples."
I smirked and shook my head. It was always like Socrates to reminisce of the past especially of memories within the libraries he had worked in. He was appointed as steward of the royal libraries of the Capital city. There were vast texts and tomes of ages past and writings of current wisdom that dwelled within the musty shelves of the library. And I also remember that day well…
"You have read through 14 volumes of Elven lore, two tomes on the legacy of ancient artifacts, and a copy of the journals of Lothar. All in one afternoon…it was…unnatural I would have to say. Were you always such an avid reader at such a young age, Orias?"
"If I said yes, I would be lying to you. Heh…actually I had never come to tell you this, Socrates, but I was banished to the library for the day as punishment from a scholar who was teaching me a lesson."
"Ha…is that so? What were you punished for?"
"I got into a fight with a fellow classmate. It was--a stupid argument."
I could not bring myself to say what had truly happened but it would seem that I did not need to. I could already see Socrates analyzing me from afar.
"How odd, I never figured you to be so easily enflamed."
"I was a rash boy then and I let my fists get ahead of my reasoning." I explained but it seemed it was not enough.
"He obviously must have said something that angered you. Something that cut deep."
"It was nothing. It was nothing that is even worth mentioning."
"Was it about your father, Orias?"
I closed my eyes and turned away. I did not reply or make any gesture in response. It was only a matter of time before Socrates reopened this topic again. I did not want it to be reopened. I had evaded him from this topic thus far and yet somehow it manages to reappear. There was nothing more to talk about, yet he persists on continuing upon this…but I do not.
"Was it about your father?" Socrates repeated.
"I--It was only a stupid remark and I was easily provoked."
"Was it really?"
"What do you want me to say? Why are you indulging upon this topic again, Socrates? This was done a long time ago."
"Because I can not have you still reeling upon this old hatred. It has happened before and I can still see that in you now. Even now you still blame him."
I rose from my seat quickly and banged the table with my fist in anger.
"How can I not reel on it? Even now, how can I not! He abandoned me and my mother. He abandoned us and did not give a damn!"
I tried to restrain myself, keep my composure but this topic…it infuriates me. I had hated him for abandoning us. Even when I tried to look for him, he would not show his face to me. The coward…
"He…did not abandon you, Orias. He would never--"
"How could you possibly know what he would have done!"
"Because I knew your father, Orias."
These very words struck me as false, a blatant lie. I stared at Socrates in disbelief and shifted away from my seat a short distance.
"How--"
"Before I was made a steward of the libraries in the Capital City, I was a scribe during the second war. I was assigned to your father's regiment to record the events that were to conspire. Taking logs of enemy movements and words of the commanding officers. I had met your father in Azeroth, where they were pushing back Orc advancement. That is how I know him, Orias. He is a good man. An honest man."
I remained speechless and started to pace from the table to a nearby window until I set myself down again upon my seat.
"Do you still take your mother's family name, Orias? Andurai?"
"It is the only name I have known."
"Then you have not known--"
"My father's name? As I have told you before Socrates, I have had no recollection of my father other than the fact that he served in the Lordaeron Army. And until this very moment, am I informed that he was always such an 'honest and good man'."
"Yes…what is most tragic is that you remain ignorant to what your father had to sacrifice to have kept you alive."
Kept me alive? My father? What would he know about sacrifice! He had impregnated my mother and left us both to rot in the gutter! What can you say that can be considered a sacrifice!
"Do you know of the Keleth family, Orias? They have descended from nobles since the earliest days of the kingdom of Lordaeron. Because of this, they have gained such status and power; they would know only the best for their family. Their bloodline is loosely connected to the royal bloodline and they take pride in who they take into their family. But one such son born into their house fell in love with a common farm girl. Your father was Darian Keleth, the only direct heir to the Keleth family."
My attention had peaked and remembered clearly each word that Socrates had uttered. So…my father had descended from noble blood…does that suddenly pardon him from his actions? Does that justify--
"Orias?"
I had awakened from my fervor of thoughts. Socrates looked at me with tired eyes and I looked at him with angered ones. He sighed again and resumed his story.
"Your mother, Maria Andurai. I knew her as well. I could not have met a stronger woman in my life. She never had family, other than you, Orias. She was orphaned at such a young age and yet…she went on living. That is what your father had admired about her. He loved your mother. But it was a difficult for them to meet under the eyes of your father's family. Based on character, I could not find one flaw upon your mother. She was caring, educated, cultured but those qualities alone were not enough for the Keleth family. Your mother offered no advancement for them, no beneficial connections, she did not belong to rich or reputable family, and she was…not suitable enough for them. Understand that your father did not care for what his family thought. In fact, he chose to defy them and married your mother in secret. She was pregnant with you a few months afterwards. Darian came to me first to tell me the news. But it was during that time, a member of Darian's family found out what he had done. It was not long before Darian was revealed and reprimanded from his family. He pleaded with them to consent because what was done had been done. They would hear nothing of it. They…"
Socrates paused for a second and turned a page of his tattered book.
"What…what did they have him do?" I pursued.
"They threatened to kill your mother while she was still pregnant. It was within their power that they could perform this without leaving blood on their hands. Your mother had no other family. Should she have disappeared, know one would have noticed. They would have kept her friends and the people she lived with silent. Darian revolted at this idea but his family would see to it that their marriage was illegitimate and would keep it from ruining their reputation as a prominent family. Should Darian have tried anything, if he were to run away, they would find him and they would take her away from him. Darian was left with a choice. Would he see his wife and child murdered or would he remove himself from their lives forever?"
I fell silent and remained still. He…why would he…
"The choice was obvious. He wanted to see that you lived, even if he were to never see you or your mother again. It was hard for him to let go. He was a broken man afterwards."
"But when I went to look for him--"
"When you applied for the Lordaeron Army and then denied? Another machination concocted by courtesy of the Keleth family. They would have seen this through to the end. Ties to military leaders who advanced their careers through the Keleth family were more than obligated to comply with their wishes. And it was shortly after…"
"That he died…"
Socrates was taken aback at my response. It was obviously shocking to him that I knew.
"How did--"
"A funeral was conducted under Uther. I remember it distinctly because he had mentioned it was a funeral in memory of his old friend who fought alongside him during the Second War. Darian that was the name he mentioned. It had not occurred to me that…until now. He said he fell ill to disease."
"Is that what he said? No…a cover that is what it was. Darian was in perfect health physically but I could not say he was well. A man can die from a broken heart. It was his only wish to see his son before he died. He had thought that if you were able to apply that he could at least get a glimpse at his own son. That never happened. Darian past from this world without seeing how you have grown to the man you are now. He would have been proud to say the least, Orias. He would have been proud."
He closed his tattered book and let it rest upon the table. I did not know what else to say. This was the first time that I heard what had happened to my father. My mother would not mention him. And I have grown to hate him over time…because he was not there.
"Why…why do you only tell me this now? Why not before?" I asked Socrates intently.
"Because if I had told you then, would you have believed me? Your hate was resolute then but now with so many other burdens upon your mind, you have shut it away. I tell you this now because I wanted to lighten the burden you must carry. To bring what little peace to your mind in this desperate time."
Socrates rose from his seat and pushed the tattered book toward me and started to leave.
I then rose from my own seat.
"Wait, why are you leaving your book here with me?"
Socrates stopped and turned slightly. I waited a few moments for his reply and picked up the aged book.
"I leave it with you, Orias, because it is not mine. It was intended to be given to you."
I stood confused and looked at the book again. There was no title or signature upon the book. The only outstanding feature about the cover was a small insignia in the form of a phoenix imprinted at the corner.
"It is your father's journal, Orias. He entrusted it to me, to give to you. He had told me to give it to you when you had come to a point in your life where you might understand sacrifice and only then. You know what true sacrifice is now, Orias. I hope after all these years of condemning your father; you might start to forgive him now."
Socrates turned away from me again and left the town hall. I was left alone with the book in my hand and new revelation.
