Okay, so here is another short chapter for you all to hopefully enjoy! I've decided to take a break from Spyro and the others and show what's happening in Regensburg. Also, for those of you know don't know, 'wyrm' is Old English for 'worm'(which is known as a young snake) or 'serpent'. So when Rorek is calling the babies 'wyrms', Rorek is literally calling them 'baby serpents'. Anyway, please enjoy! :)
"Uncle, when is Silas coming back?" Berend asked, Carl pausing as he wiped the sweat from his brow before planting the scythe firmly into the ground.
"You have asked me that question for days, child. Why do you not milk the cow instead?" Carl asked, looking at the boy as Berend looked at the man. If anything, the child seemed hurt at his cousin's abandonment.
"Did Silas do something bad, Uncle?" Berend asked again, squinting up at the older man. The crack of loud thunder in the distance caused the boy to jump as Carl looked up into the sky, the cloud black, as if bruised.
"It is going to rain. Good. The crops need the rain." Carl muttered, skin and clothes covered in dirt and sweat. "I swear that forest fire made things warmer."
"Will the fire come here, Uncle? Will we have to leave town?" Berend asked, Carl sighing.
"God looks after His people, Berend. Just as He brings water down from the Heavens to nourish our crops, He also uses it keep us safe from that fire." Carl answered, grunting slightly as he freed the scythe from its prison.
"Was God looking after the Duchess? I do not understand why He would want to kill her. She was always nice to me. And why would God want to kill a baby? She did have a baby, did she not, Uncle? Or was she just portly?"
"Good Lord! How do you know all of this?" Carl asked, distressed as the man covered his eyes briefly and sighed deeply.
"I was told that the baby was Silas', and that they were using the black man to-"
"Oh, Lord, please stop talking! I do not want to hear anymore of it!" Carl cried, sighing once more as he looked at the boy, both faces sullen.
"Shall we go home, pup? I can feel the storm coming." Carl asked, walking off the field and into the dirt path, Berent following close by.
"I do not want to go into town. Everyone looks at us strangely." Berend voiced, Carl remaining quiet for several seconds.
"Well, we shall do our best to ignore them, yes?" Carl asked, knowing well on what the boy meant. Ever Since the first born son had been exiled, the residents of Regensburg had all but completely shunned the small family. They always glared at the remaining members, eyes full of hate, blame, scorn, shame, and occasionally sadness and pity from a kind soul who did not resent the family. If it was not by staring, it was by verbal abuse. Many of the villagers damned the Adler family for the sudden political and military unrest in their town. Their taxes had doubled, and soldiers were constantly moving through the tiny village, in and out of the Regensburg's great castle and protective walls.
And if it wasn't the villagers themselves, it was the very soldiers that were meant to defend them. After the execution, many of the soldiers have lost respect for the family. Those rare few that did call the family their friends, were either close peers to the patriarch or the first born. Though those few precious allies were often in the castle, they had seemed to all but abandon Regensburg, leaving the territory controlled by knights of the King. The Duke himself had left the very day of the execution, taking a rather small portion of the army with him that were loyal. Yet Eamon would do nothing against his brother. William's forces were far too small to even break a dent in Eamon's war machine.
With any luck, however, the country would fall apart under Eamon's rule without his brother by his side, and the people would revolt. That situation, however, seemed bleak. After all, who would want to ally themselves with a Duke whose daughter had been executed for necromantic practices?
"Silas would not have wanted this." Carl muttered, shepherding Berend down the dirt road passed several cottages. With the storm coming, very few people were actually outside.
"I miss Silas." Berend stated, Carling looking down at the boy only to notice his eyes had started to water.
"Silas is no longer here to teach me how to ride a horse, or how to sword fight, or joust, or..." Berend paused, trying to think of more thing his older cousin could have passed down.
"You would need to learn how to ride a pony first, boy. And Silas was horrible at jousting..." Carl muttered, remembering his son's first jousting tournament. It was almost painful to watch, really.
At the age of twenty one, after his newfound knighthood, Silas had jumped at the chance to participate in a jousting tournament. Young, eager, and filled with pride, Silas was confident in his abilities. However, the newly anointed knight was not seeking to win the prize. He was seeking to woo the Duchess, and capture his childhood friend's heart.
Carl couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he remembered how Silas' face had lit up upon seeing the Duchess arrive. She had come to every jousting tournament the young man had been in, whether he had won or lost in the end, it mattered not. Anaya always cheered for him, and Carl knew how much it meant to his son.
The first jousting tournament, however, was nothing short of embarrassing. Eager, but inexperienced, Carl could only watch as his son was knocked off the steed from well placed blow after blow. The last blow was the worst, which had not only sent Silas flying off his horse, but had caused the man's foot to get tangled in the reigns, causing him to be dragged behind his horse. Pride wounded, it had taken Silas nearly six months to work up the courage to join jousting once again. Despite his horrendous failure, it was Anaya's words that had eventually convinced him to take up the lance once more. If anything, Silas appeared to be fueled in his determination to joust in his Duchess' honor, and had soon excelled in the sport.
By the time Silas had turned twenty two, he had undoubtedly become stronger, and skills had sharpened from the training of his knighthood and jousting practise. For a man so young, he was one of Regensburg's finest, which wasn't saying much since the country had some of the poorest knights in Europe. Several times the young knight was urged to go to London, but the man simply refused, not willing to leave his home or Duchess for such a long period of time.
Carl shook his head as he walked down the very roads he and the Duke used to travel together, watching their children cause chaos wherever they went. Though Carl did not know where his old friend had gone, he dearly wished he could be by William's side. Regensburg had now become hostile. Even the castle was deemed unsafe by Carl, who refused to allow Berend to attend his duties as a page there. After all, with the elder cousin gone, Berend had no one to prod constantly.
"Silas was a lot like you as a boy. Always eager, and willing to learn." Carl commented, Berend looking at Carl with wide eyes, as if in awe.
"He was?"
"Yes. But he was one part hardy, three parts fool. He really changed over the years. It makes me feel older than my years." Carl chuckled, Berend jumping at the crack of thunder in the distance, rain now softly falling from the sky.
Carl paused, realizing how much his boy had changed in the years. Ever since Silas had returned to jousting, he had become more cautious, more patient, more professional. More mellow. If he still had interest in pursuing William's daughter, he showed it not, and had always kept a level head. But there were times when Carl could see the old Silas through the more mature knight that he had become. At times, he would become playful, and step out of his line of duty to aid others.
Carl couldn't help but feel sorrow and guilt build in his chest. It was he that had instilled Silas to do the morally right thing, for if he did he would be in God's good graces. And as a result his son was exile, and possibly no longer alive.
"Was God truly looking after Silas?" Carl asked, Berend glancing at the man.
"You said God looks out for people. So God is looking after Silas." Berend reasoned, Carl staying silent before sighing.
"I do not know anymore Berend." Carl spoke.
"I do not know if He will look after my son. What is I had failed Him? What if I had done something wrong that had made God take my son-my firstborn?"
"God is not cruel, right, Uncle? God is kind." Berend asked, the pair making their way to a small, run down cottage.
"He can be a merciful God, Berend. But cross Him and He shall be a vengeful one." Carl spoke, voice quavering as Berend opening the door and bolted inside, terrified as thunder and lightning roared across the Heavens.
"Did Silas do something bad, Uncle?" Berend asked, voice shaking, as if the boy was terrified that God's wrath would take their house down as he hid under the covers of his bed. Hay littered the floor of the cottage as Carl leaned the scythe against the wall.
"That is not for me to answer, Berend. That is God's judgment."
"Then why do the angels cry?"
"They cry for our sins. For your cousin's or for mine."
"How can Silas sin, Uncle? Silas is a good knight!"
"The sins of the father, Berend." Carl sighed, looking out the window as the panes began to shake against the wind.
"The sins of the father."
Thank you for reading! I wanted to show what was happing to the town while Silas is off doing...knightly...things? Also, I plan to have Carl and Berend become(possibly) larger characters later on. I think Berend asks too many damned questions. I bet Silas is happy that his younger cousin isn't bothering him for once. Also, I am extremely stumped on what to name the chicks, and DO NOT feel like calling them drakelings, wyrms, chicks, ect. Well, I think I ranted too much. Please give me your opinions and thanks to all you readers for the support! I honestly didn't think this story would be so popular as it would be and I thought A LOT of people would hate Silas for killing Cynder. Once again thank you all and until next time! :)