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Owain Glyndwr is waiting in his sister's spacious home when Edward and Carlisle arrive the next morning. The air is so crisp and quiet it feel as if God is holding his breath. With a knock at the front door they await entry into the king's chambers. Owain isn't what either man had built up in their minds. Perhaps they take for granted their own physical perfection, or are under the impression that all kings are fit to fight. He's fat, slovenly and ancient. He's firmly ensconced in a chair in the front room and remains there even after his daughter greets them and beckons them inside.
Edward can smell the brandy wafting through the room from the cask in Owain's right hand, and the room is hazy with smoke from the pipe in his left. Reconciling his thoughts with his appearance and demeanor are proving difficult. Inside the confines of Owain's mind, he's sizing the two vampires up with uncanny accuracy; it's immediately clear to Edward that this man has a gift for observation.
Owain notices their lethal grace, the similarities between the two unrelated men, their unusual eye color and even places Edward's nearly nonexistent accent as highlander in origin. Edward has encountered a few of these people over the years, humans who see through his facade, notice his inhumanness. In the past, he's simply eaten them, or avoided them studiously, but neither is an option in his present circumstances.
After the men understatedly acknowledge each other, Carlisle and Edward follow Alys to the room where the work will be done. She gives them some basic direction for the project, but Edward and Carlisle are both stumped when she hands them a piece of ragged vellum covered in Cymraeg. "My father wants the coffer built to these specifications. He said his intent should be clear from the instructions." As a general rule, vampires have no awkward moments, but Carlisle and Edward are practically squirming as she leaves the room. Neither of them know how to read, especially not Welsh. It's not a skill that was necessary for Edward as king, given that his life was ruled so singularly by battle; and his people had no real written language aside from a few rudimentary symbols to denote place-names. And Carlisle's father never deigned teach him the written word, opting instead to force feed him Bible verses until Carlisle had them memorized. For the most part, this is not uncommon; the literacy rate in the 1400's is unsurprisingly low. Simply put, it was not something most men needed to know. Edward had viewed the written word as an interesting novelty, but never as a requisite skill. When Gutenberg perfects his printing press later in the century, Edward and Carlisle will have already learned all the European languages.
Holding up his hand to indicate Carlisle should stay put, Edward makes his way back into the front room where Owain sits, smoking and drinking. "We have a problem, Prince."
"You know me? Those days are gone, boy. It's simply Owain, now. Pray tell, what is this problem you speak of."
He holds up the tattered vellum, "We don't read."
"Don't or can't?" Owain's playful mocking is not helping Edward's temper.
"The latter."
"Ah, I see." When he doesn't continue, Edward takes special notice of his thoughts. Owain's mind is awash with pure joy at the memory of reading his father's few books as a adolescent. His favorite, Brenhinoedd y Saeson, catalogued the English monarchy from around 700a.d. up until the subjugation of Wales in 1282. That book was the catalyst for Owain's fervent nationalism which, in turn, led to his failed uprising. It still ignites the fire of rebellion within him and Edward realizes the power of the written word, of language molded to fit a purpose.
Before he can think himself out of it, Edward proposes a deal, "Teach us how and we'll work for free." Carlisle's curiosity is catching, and Edward can feel the nervous excitement vibrating between the two of them.
"Business is that good, eh? I'll teach you. But I am a little curious as to why you've forgone a good deal of money."
"Perhaps we'd like to spend time learning from a national hero, or a great warrior?"
"HA! That's likely."
After Owain reads the plans aloud to Edward and Carlisle, they collect their tools and raw materials and begin building the unusual piece of furniture. They work out a tentative work schedule, where at the end of every day they work Owain spends an hour imparting his knowledge of the written word.
Owain is impressed and shocked at how quickly they learn to read and write. He would have been skeptical had he not seen, with his own eyes, both Carlisle and Edward master Latin and Welsh in the matter of two weeks. Studies are made simple when they can hear something but once and commit it to memory.
Their intellectual prowess is not the only thing that catches his attention, though. He takes a special interest in their eye color, their powerful and smooth movements, their perfect, stark-white teeth, and their ability to work tirelessly. Owain's eyes are always searching, analyzing; it's a trait that Edward recognizes in himself: the precision of his observations and intuition. Edward has no doubts that Owain would make a powerful and intelligent vampire, but he knows it would be an empty eternity for Owain, whose will crumbled along with the last gasps of his rebellion.
Edward tracks Owain's growing interest in them without fear. Because of his position as a fugitive from the English government, his advanced age and general attitude Edward is sure that he'll not cause problems for the two of them. And Owain would never betray the two vampires he considers friends. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance the three have developed a report, a bantering discourse in multiple languages that thrills and fascinates the two brothers. The environment created within Owain's tiny dungeon-study, one of enlightenment and learning, is something both vampires will vainly attempt to recreate for centuries.
When Owain's knowledge of Latin and Welsh dries up and the coffer covering a hidden door has been completed, he dismisses them. But not before his final lesson, "Boys, this may make little sense to you, but I know arrogance when I see it." His raspy bass voice is grim, a lifetime of hard lessons leveraging his intonation. "In every man's life there is at least one challenge, one enemy that can't be beaten, one hardship you can't overcome. You'd do well to find yours, and avoid it at all costs." His face is expressionless, but Edward can hear the weariness in his thoughts. He rises from his chair, smoking pipe in hand, and hands Edward the book that started his rebellion: Brenhinoedd y Saeson.
Without another word he hobbles from the foyer, leaving the two confused and concerned. A few weeks later, Owain Glyndwr dies in the dank, dark dungeon that Edward and Carlisle helped build. His sixty seven years are celebrated only by his family and the two vampires he came to know too late in life. And while Edward and Carlisle feel grief for his passing, there's hope, too, that he lives on through them. Over the centuries they both will grasp what their short acquaintance with the man means: Owain instilled in them a lifelong desire to learn, to better themselves, to gain knowledge in order to develop wisdom. This starts them down a path neither could have imagined.
A/N: Sorry this chapter was so short. Brief but important. Thanks to everyone who's reading or reviewing my story. You folks make me feel all warm and fuzzy.