Here is the next chapter! Please enjoy!
Carl looked upon the fire, the flame crackling and popping as it darkened the brick walls encasing the light in soot. The aroma of cooking floated throughout the small house, the kettle's bottom black and charred as a thick stew boiled within. Several diced leeks and cabbages were being twirled along within the brew by a wooden spoon, Carl's eyes averting from the heat and blaze to the door upon hearing the hinges cry in protest.
"You should not be walkin' around with that wound, boy. One wrong move and your guts will spill out." The old warrior spoke, switching back towards the kettle and its contents as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Silas paused slightly as he closed the door, shaking his feet, "I was stabbed by a blade, not slashed. Besides, I think my guts would have already fallen out if that risk was present."
"You are not made of iron or steel, son. Take it easy and allow yourself to rest."
"Then it appears that I have been deceived." Silas replied, Carl producing a low chuckle as the younger man moved-a bit stiffly-to a nearby chair and slowly lowered himself down, trunk stiff.
"Iron and steel both soften when heated by a forge, but afterwards the metal cools and becomes even .stronger. You will be fine. You have your mother's blood in your veins. A fiery woman, she."
"You never told me much of Mother." Silas stated, eyes settling upon the back of his father.
"Aye. That is true." Carl produced a low grunt, pausing, "You know, Silas, choosing which one of you to save was the hardest choice I had ever made. But in the end, it was Seraphina's choice, not mine. I was not ready to be a father, I was fearful of the responsibility. In truth, I would have saved your mother, but she had chosen you over herself. I did not know how to raise you, or how to guide you as you grew. I held the impatience of a boy that had become a man too soon, and when you would cry I would wonder where did I fail in raising my son? Where did I go wrong that my son had become so? How did my son become such a coward?"
Silas cleared his throat, eyes averting off to the side before focusing on the man once more, "Every time you would cry, every time you would show fear...I thought beating it out of you would make you stronger. But as you grew, I realized I was not helping you grow, but hurting you. I learned a valuable lesson: that without fear there cannot be courage. I learned that only by allowing you to feel fear would you become brave."
The man faltered, clearing his throat, "When you were just ye big, I always wondered if I did the right thing by listening to your mother. But now I thank God for Seraphina making that choice. I believe that choosing you was her last gift to me. Without you, Silas, I would never have learned that valuable lesson, and I would not be the man that I am today. You made me a better man than I ever could have been without you. I guess what I am trying to say is...I am sorry, and I thank you. I was supposed to teach you and guide you, but I guess it went the other way around." Carl chuckled weakly, Silas waving him off, "You did what you thought was right, Father. I did not learn how to take a punch from being a squire, that was for sure."
"Well, I guess not all was lost in my attempts. Say, whatever happened to that boy? That...errmm...Seditio boy?"
"Ferox?" Silas questioned, as eyebrow raised.
"Yes, that is the one. What happened to you and he? You always used to try and best each other as squires."
"He was not a holy man. Would not take the vows to become a knight, refused them. The priest would not allow him to become a knight any other way, and Seditio stormed off. That was the last I saw of him, when I was twenty one."
"Almost two years, huh? I remember that boy. He was always a troublemaker. Still, did not have a bad heart. He just stuck his nose in things where he did not belong. He was in the war, you know? Fought on our side." Carl commented, still focusing on the stew.
Silas looked upon his father with steel eyes that questioned the man, "He was? I did not see him."
"Cause you were too busy looking like you were in a fist fight with a bear, boy!" Carl roared with slight laughter as he set the spoon down on the kettle's side.
"Did he survive?"
"Not sure. There were so many dead. Do you hear the church bells ring?"
"Every hour. It is a shame."
"Aye."
The pair fell silent for several seconds, "Do the screams ever go away? The faces, the memories?" Silas asked, Carl paused to look at the younger man.
"Of war?"
"Yes. I hear them, when I sleep. I see their faces. I relive the memories and I get no rest from sleep." Silas replied, hand raised to rub his eye.
"The memories will always be there, Silas. You just learn to cope with them. I lost my conscience for war long ago. After a while you just get...numb to it."
"But it is right?" Silas asked, Carl releasing a soft grunt in response, "I think the question should be whether you think your actions were right or not."
"They were fighting under a corrupt man. I would have died if I did not fight back. Part of it is...selfishness for my own life, yet part of it feels...as if it had to be done. Not just for me, but for everyone that had suffered by that man, even if those men that fought for him suffered as well."
"Then do not worry about it. You must only answer to God, son. If God does not understand your reasons for your actions, then he is not God." Carl reasoned, Silas sighing in response, "Where is Berend?"
"In bed. The boy will not rise for me." Carl replied, scratching his beard, "Unfortunate, that."
"Now what? With one arm he cannot become a knight." Silas questioned, Carl shrugging his broad shoulders.
"I do not know. First, though, we have to get his up out of bed. Boy cannot be a bump on a log for the rest of his life."
"I will try talking to him." Silas replied, slowly rising as he used the arms of the chair for support.
"Do not bust open your guts on the way there, you hear me?"
"I will try not to, Father." Silas muttered, waving him off as he walked off towards Berend's room, the room small and only composing of a small bed, table and chair. The boy was still inside, under the coat of hide.
"Berend? Supper is almost ready." Silas spoke, cautious as he saw the boy move under the covers.
"Not hungry." Berend muttered, voice muffled, "Go 'way."
"Berend, you must eat. Get up." Silas urged, leaning against the bed, arms crossed.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because is not an answer, Berend." Silas stated.
"Because I have no arm."
"That does not mean anything." Silas stated, Berend suddenly shooting up from the covers, face red and eyes wet, "What do you know!? You aren't the one that's missing an arm! You aren't the one that people stare at and make fun of when you're not looking! None of my friends will even talk to me or even look at me anymore! They make up stories and laugh! And the adults are no better, they look at me like I'm something to pity!"
Berend lunged at the man, forming a fist and trying to punch his kin again and again, the boy attempting to strike with his absent left arm as well until he lost his balance.
Silas caught the boy by the sleeve of his missed arm, grimacing as he felt the unnatural stump and pulled the boy upright, "And do you want to keep those people pitying you or do you want to make them think more of you?"
"Let me go! Leave me alone!" Berend sobbed, trying to kick at the man as he was dragged away.
Upon reaching the small dinner table, Silas sat Berend down in a chair, the boy getting up to leave only to have the large man pin him down, "You are going to eat, Berend. Now." Silas hissed, the boy struggling as the man held him down, the boy eventually ceasing.
"Look who is finally up." Carl observed, smiling through his beard as he placed a bowl with heated stew in front of the boy, Berend appearing miserable, "Come on, boy. Eat. Your Ma and Da would not want this."
Berend still stared at the food, both men sitting down, "So, who wants to begin?"
"I will." Silas replied, clearing his throat as he clasped his hands together, "Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen." Carl spoke, Berend remaining silent.
"Berend." Silas called, the boy looking upon him, "What?"
"Say amen."
"I don't want to."
"Say amen, boy, lest you want the paddle." Carl threatened firmly, Berend looking as he were about to cry, remaining silent for several minutes. The food remained untouched by either person.
"Amen." Berend replied, softly.
"What? Speak up." Silas ordered, the boy twitching with agitation.
"Amen! I said amen!" Berend shouted in annoyance and rage, the pair backing off.
"You will learn the fear the wrath of God, Berend. Mark my words." Silas replied, Berend rolling his eyes, "Like you feared the wrath of the King?"
"Berend. Shut up." Carl ordered, Silas tensing at the page's comment.
"Little bastard."
"Silas." Carl growled, Berend's face becoming red in rage, "I am not a bastard!"
"Both of you, quiet!" Carl roared, slamming his fist onto the table as the bowls shook, the pair falling silent as Berend started to cry softly, wiping the tears away.
Nothing was spoken, and the only thing that broke the silence was the sniffing of Berend and clinking of eating utensils. The boy didn't even finish his meal before the chair was pushed out and he ran towards his chambers, slamming the door.
Both men followed the boy's leave with their eyes before allowing their gaze to downcast to the unfinished bowl.
"I will not apologize. He is too angry at the moment." Silas stated, Carl shifting his gaze to the knight.
"You knew you would cross the line."
"He attacked me. You heard his poison. I would not stand for it, so I told him the truth that you would not tell him." Silas replied, standing up and collecting the two bowls, quickly and thoroughly cleaning them with cloth and water from a bucket.
"He also spoke the truth." Carl replied, Silas ignoring him as he picked up the unfinished bowl, side hurting. The young knight then walked towards his kin's room and set the bowl down next to the closed door.
"Where are you going?" The old soldier asked, Silas approaching the door, "Out. That is all."
"Hmm. Going to say goodbye?"
"To whom?"
"The Duchess." Carl answered, Silas pausing, "Now is not the time to mourn." before opening the door.
"Shame. You and she would have made a fine pair." Carl commented, Silas freezing slightly at his words before closing the door.
Silas shook slightly in the chill air, suddenly noticing ice in the air despite the days being warm, the sun slowly beginning to set. Going out back, Silas picked up a shovel and walked through the small streets of Regensburg. The man walked until he hit a meadow, the same where his lady had loved to just enjoy the warm summer days and be with nature, be free. It was also the same place where Silas had attempted to teach her how to ride a horse, but in truth there was not much riding lessons taking place as the pair got side tracked with wants and feelings.
Stopping upon a small hill with a tree, Silas placed the metal shovel into the ground and started to dig. The strain was beginning to agitate his wound, and made his progress slow, yet he continued his work. The sun began to fade behind the mountains, a pile of dirt rising as the knight dug into the earth. Eventually, Silas had to pause for breath, sweat dripping off him and his wound causing pain. In the small trench, he felt almost too tired to climb out as he leaned against the earthen wall, sliding down.
"Need help?" Silas heard a voice offer, and craned his neck up to the sky to see a blonde looking down upon him, eyes widening, "Ferox?"
"...Silas?" The man asked, brow raised in question, "Never thought you would be a gravedigger."
"Yeah? Well things change." Silas replied, throwing the shovel up with a clang, grunting as he hoisted himself up, "Heard you fought in the war."
"Yeah. Heard your little speech too. I think only I could give a better one." The blonde chuckled, though the humor appeared to be lost in Silas.
"Where were you this whole time? Last I saw you was at the coronation." Silas asked.
"And last I saw you was a few weeks ago. But, honestly, I was wandering around. A soldier of fortune." Ferox replied, spitting on the ground, "Who is the grave for?"
"Anaya, though I do not have her body."
"That is a fool's errand. You might as well give a proper burial to Eamon." Ferox stated, Silas saying nothing before swiftly punching the man in his face, the blonde falling to the ground.
"She was not like him!" Silas screamed, Ferox holding his bleeding nose, but swiftly took Silas off his feet with a sweep of his legs.
Enraged, Ferox rapidly climbed on the man and delivered a swift punch to his face, grunting. Blood flew out of the downed man's mouth, yet Silas formed a fist and managed to punch Ferox in his exposed stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he crumbled on himself. Silas kicked the man off him, dazed by the blows to the head as he struggled to regain his bearings. Almost blindly, the knight lunged at Ferox, punching him to process to keep him down as his hands found their way towards the blonde's neck.
Gagging, the blonde couldn't breath as he struggled, both tired and drained, yet still both fought with increased fervor. In desperation, Ferox grabbed Silas' side, digging into the sore wound. If he couldn't find a way to dislocate Silas' bad arm, the stab wound was his only chance.
Silas yelped in pain, backing as Ferox coughed and gagged for breath, chugging the air. With the wound irritated, Silas stopped his attack, unable to move properly only to have Ferox slam into him. The pair rolled on the ground, neither seeming to gain an advantage before both fell into the grave, a loud thud resounding from the fall.
Stunned, both separated, their chests heaving as blood stained the ground. They were too exhausted to fight. Ferox leaned against the earthen wall, blood running from his nose and bruises forming on his neck. He watched as the blood ran down his own lips and towards his chin, dripping in his open hands, the man still struggling to breathe.
Silas groaned, wound throbbing and head pounding. Spitting out blood, the young knight could feel blood flood his mouth, left eye red and bruised. It was no doubt his eye would be stained black and the whole left side of his face would swell in bruises.
The pair didn't move, one sitting next the earth and the other laying on the ground, unable to get up as they rested and gathered their strength.
I apologize for the lack of Spyro and Ember. They will appear in the next chapter most likely. Thank you for reading and supporting!