CHAPTER 3 - Leander

Mick stalked through the forest alongside his master, ranger Leander. The ranger had said they were on their way to castle Dacton, but not what for. Nor why they were sneaking through the bushes on foot rather than riding up the highway. Mick shrugged. If there is one thing he had learned so far, it is that Leander would explain things when he considered it the right time.

They approached the castle from the east, where the servants' entrance was. Finally Leander signaled for Mick to stop and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"See that cart they are bringing in? What does it mean?"

Mick shrugged. "That the kitchen is in need of supplies?"

"Yes, yes, but what kind of supplies? And what does that mean for the kitchen staff?"

Thoughtfully Mick peered closer at the small cart. "I think I recognize the butcher. That would mean there is meat on the cart. The kitchen hands will bring it to the kitchen."

"Not to the kitchen."

Frowning, Mick rethought his logic. It was an uncommonly hot day and their hiding spot was wildly uncomfortable, so he hoped that if he came up with the right answers Leander would quickly move on. As a droplet of sweat made its way down his back under his warm camouflage cloak, the answer came to mind.

"The cellar! Now that it is summer, fresh meat is put in the cold cellar where it will not spoil as quickly."

"Yes, and the kitchen staff will be in a rush to do it before any of the meat goes bad." Leander confirmed. "And that means they won't pay much attention to the other goodies there until they are finished with the task." The last bit was added with some satisfaction. Mick looked up, not understanding why that would be a good thing.

"These past weeks you have already had a chance to experience what an asshole our baron is." Leander's tone was very matter of fact. His apprentice, though agreeing with the sentiment, was not sure if it counted as treason to assent and thus chose to remain silent.

"Oh come on, you weren't here during the war. He may seem an unpleasant but harmless dickhead now, but when Morgarath was around he just let that whole business unfold and happily cooperated in replacing me with some inflated fop." He grinned a humorless grin with his teeth slightly bared. "And that is why I do not feel at all guilty about liberating his kitchen of its best treasures. You know I am not much of a cook after all, and rangers need to eat good food to operate properly."

Mick warily looked up to his master.

"As my apprentice, it will be your job to fetch our provisions. Just watch out for the chef, you don't want him to hit you over the head with his ladle and if you are caught you will be in big trouble."

Later, Mick would admit to himself that the stolen food made a welcome change from Leander's subpar cooking. However, it did not do much to quell his apprehensions.

"It is only right.", Leander would repeat again and again. "Rangers who get a fief with a decent baron, they usually dine at the castle at least once a week. We have to put up with the baron's bullshit, and don't get any nice dinners to boot."

Mick still eyed him uncertainly, but Leander answered with a long-suffering sigh.

"You haven't met Halt yet. One gathering of him gloating about master Chubb's cooking in Redmont and you will lose your moral compass."

After his first gathering, Mick would finally come to agree and by that time the baron's aggravating demeanor had destroyed any last vestiges of guilt.

At said gathering, all assembled rangers would be thoroughly impressed with how stealthy the boy moved. They would never know it was regularly facing the threat of a chef's ladle and an unpleasant baron that had motivated his rigorous practice of silent, unseen movement.

Mick climbed the stairs to the part of the tower in castle Araluen where the apartments of the resident rangers were situated. He had to report to commandant Gilan, and afterwards wanted to visit his former mentor. Leander was very old now, he had worked far past the regular retirement age for rangers, and now already lived in the castle for a full decade. Most of his peers had already died. Many in battle, some comfortably in their beds after they had settled in the castle. Old commandant Crowley was the most notable amongst the latter.

Gilan had remarked to Mick a few times what a great help Leander had been to him when the relatively young man had to take over after Crowley's sudden death. Crowley had been a pragmatic man who started preparing for his demise long before it occurred, but while Gilan had been selected and trained as his replacement there had been no time for a proper handover of the current affairs. And that is where Leander came in, who lived in the suite next to Crowley's and still kept up-to-date with everything that went on.

After a long day of paperwork the men would often share a pot of coffee and chat together. One way or the other Leander always ended up talking about his favorite topic : his former apprentice. Gilan knew Leander had no actual family left, and that Mick filled that void along with the woman he married some twelve years ago.

In fact, Mick suspected the young commandant had given the mission he just completed specifically to him as an excuse to come to castle Araluen. The summons had arrived shortly after a letter from Leander that regrettably, he simply would not be able to endure the long ride on horseback to the gathering grounds anymore. While the old ranger was still in surprisingly good health and enjoyed short walks and rides, his worn out joints could not handle extended periods of exercise.

It had torn at Mick's heart. While he knew, reasonably, that at this age anytime he saw his former mentor might be the last, there had at least been the certainty that another opportunity to meet would follow in a year at the next gathering. Visits to castle Araluen were much fewer and far in between. He was going to make the most of this chance.

After Mick was done with his business with the commandant, he and Leander contentedly settled in armchairs around the fire. They quietly munched on a pie that Mick had stolen from the kitchens out of habit before going up to the ranger quarters.

"How is the wife?", Leander asked

"Doing well, she sends her regards." Mick answered with a wistful sigh. "She wishes she could be here too."

Leander frowned. Ever a perceptive man, he noticed something was afoot. "Why?"

"To tell you the news. We didn't want to just put it in a letter. You know we have been married for over a decade. And that in the beginning we were… we were hoping to be blessed with children. It never seemed like that was meant to happen for us." He tilted his head upwards and looked Leander in the eye. "Until now. She is with child, and perfectly healthy. Already halfway through the pregnancy."

The face of the normally sedate Leander broke into an enormous grin, and he effusively congratulated the younger man. However, Mick was not done yet.

"Jane and I have decided… Well, we want to name the child after you. After all we have been through we thought it was only right. My whole apprenticeship, then that time you saved her father's life, and we would probably never even have met if you had not pointed her out to me when I came visiting…", Mick's voice trailed off, lost in memory. "If it's a girl we'll call her Leah."

Old Leander quietly wiped away a few tears, clearly overwhelmed by the honor.

"I hope I can hold on long enough to meet them."

(He did by the way, I'm not THAT cruel. It was a girl, Leander got to meet her and hold her and everything. She later became a ranger herself. Happy?)