No Editing, We Die Like Men
The day was warm.
Birds chirped, and for the first time in a long time, the trees all bore their leaves. Everything was alive. Buzzing with a lazy energy.
The Roving River moved eerily slowly, slugging through the broken forest just outside of Drylliad castle. It would be years before the forest surrounding the castle healed from the wounds of war. But after two years, the environment was making great effort to return to normalcy.
But normalcy was still years away.
Repercussions from the Avenian War still rattled the government and population of Carthya. In Avenia, the people were struggling to survive. Bymar was facing severe social unrest.
At least Gelyn was still swindling people out of their fortunes, like they always did.
On the bank of the river lay a large, quilted blanket. A basket of food stood in the middle of a group of young people.
And there was laughter.
Smiles despite the haunted look each person tried to hide.
"Still can't believe you managed to drink an entire barrel full of mead," Tobias shook his head. "Roden, there's been an ongoing study about fermented beverages leading to an early death."
Roden Harlowe, the charming captain of Carthya's royal guard, smirked, "I'm bound to die anyways, may as well die from something I like."
"That's not-"
"Careful Tobias, you might trick people into thinking we're friends."
"Shut up."
A wave of snickers rippled through Tobias, Roden, and the rest of King Jaron's inner circle.
Jaron himself had demanded that he and the inner circle take the afternoon off. They all deserved it. Each one had been working nonstop to ensure domestic peace, and others had been grappling with diplomatic responsibilities.
The rules for the afternoon were simple: Under no circumstances was anybody allowed to bring up anything that had to do with the kingdom.
Or other kingdoms.
Or anything sad at all.
"I feel like you should push Roden to his limits," snipped Amarinda, the princess and ambassador of Bymar. "If he can drain an entire barrel, why not see if he can do two?"
"Now that's a wager I'll get behind," Roden said. He settled on his back, clasping his hands behind his head.
"You'd be sick for days," Tobias argued.
"That won't stop me from doing anything."
"Idiot."
"Prat."
Jaron was laughing, "As much as I approve of pushing boundaries, maybe you should start at one and a half barrels. You still need to patrol the- ah, you still need to be wary on your feet. . . Or Tobias may be able to disarm you in a sparring match."
"Didn't think of that," Roden groaned. "My reputation would be ruined."
"Your reputation is already ruined," Amarinda teased.
"Damaged beyond compare, there's absolutely no chance you can repair it. You'll be churning butter your whole life," Jaron inched his way closer to Imogen, and settled an arm around her. "Maybe you could open a shop."
"I fully intend to vanish, and then train wannabe heroes just like the mentors from the old legends."
"Don't the mentors usually die in the legends?"
"Everyone dies in legends, that's why they're legends."
"I thought we were going to avoid depressing subjects," Imogen chirped. She tugged on the end of her braid.
A moment of silence settled in over everyone.
Avoiding the scars they'd all received would never be an easy task. They were still too fresh despite appearing to be healed.
Each one had different burdens.
Each one bore their own burden in different ways.
For Imogen, she found herself almost always afraid that somebody would materialize out of the dark and put an arrow through her shoulder again.
For Jaron, he couldn't ever seem to sit still, something he struggled with as a child before. If he was constantly moving, there was less of a chance of being caught.
"My cousin, Princess Eline, sent me a letter," Amarinda said. "She's going to be named heir to the throne soon."
"She's going to become queen in her own right?" Jaron's eyes went wide. "That's incredible!"
"She's taking the situation very seriously, especially since she's so young. However, there is much. . . Much to be done to prepare for the ceremony. I hope to attend."
"I hope we all can attend."
Silence once again.
They all knew that they were avoiding a subject very specific to Princess Eline's new title as Crown Princess.
Princess Eline had the support of the Royalists, but no support from those calling themselves the Tairrogists.
The Tairrogists insisted that they needed a new monarch.
One that would focus on Bymar's affairs before attending to their allies.
And they were gaining an unsettling amount of support from the people of Bymar.
Amarinda wasn't the type to watch her country topple, even if she did have a duty to Carthya and her husband above all.
That was how she kept herself composed.
She busied herself with ways to make life better for everyone, and did her best to involve Tobias. Together, they worked through their concerns.
Their fears were slowly melting away.
Together, they recognized that there was only so much that they could do within their power.
Unlike Roden.
Unlike Captain Roden Harlowe, who silently insisted that he was strong enough to save everyone he could.
The results when he couldn't save everyone were devastating to watch.
So he turned to the company of alcohol. The local tavern had a stool reserved just for him. The local barmaids always did their best to serve him first for the chance to accompany him to his bed.
He kept himself detached and too involved all at once.
And he never slept alone.
Nobody ever brought up what they did to run from their demons, Roden least of all. He'd drunkenly confided in Tobias that he hated living the way that he was living. Hated that he turned to drinking. Hated that he couldn't bear to talk about what he endured while imprisoned at Farthenwood.
And Tobias never asked.
"I've always wanted to know how to make a daisy chain," Roden blurted, saying the first thing that came to his mind.
"A daisy chain?" Imogen tilted her head. "I'm quite good at those, have anyone in mind you're going to give it to?"
"Not really, just need something to do while I'm out in the woods on a boring day."
"I think making daisy chains is a brilliant idea. You can use it as a weapon, maybe even a rope," Jaron snickered. "Can't tell you how many times my life has been saved by flowers."
"Ah, see, I can think of one time your life was definitely saved by flowers, your Highness," a smile split across Imogen's face like a ray of sunshine.
"None of you will ever understand how grateful I am for Imogen. If more people were like her, we'd get everything under control."
Nobody could deny that Imogen was certainly the most productive out of them all.
"I know I could use a few notes on remaining focused," Amarinda's gaze flickered to a special area. "Especially when Tobias and I are taking inventory in the physician's chambers."
Another wave of snickers rippled through the circle as Tobias's ears turned beat red, "I, ah, could say the same."
"Dear Saints, I hate being around you all. Dammit," Roden groaned.
"Right! Daisy chains!" Imogen clapped her hands together, desperately trying to change the subject. "You start by getting-"
"-Daisies of course," Jaron said. He stood, and held out a hand to Imogen, "Care to look for them with me?"
"Don't mind if I do."
By the time they both returned from 'looking for daisies', a newcomer had joined Amarinda, Tobias, and Roden on the blanket. The sunlight glinting off of his shiny, bald head brought safety to both Jaron and Imogen.
There was nobody they trusted more than Mott.
"Mott!" Jaron exclaimed, nearly dropping all of the daisies he'd collected. "Are you sure it's safe for you to be out-"
"I'm not made of glass, Jaron," Mott sighed, but a ghost of a smile lingered on his face.
"I know, but, I do worry."
"I wish you didn't. What have you got there?'
Everyone was far too talented at changing the subject.
"We're going to teach Roden how to make a daisy chain," Imogen said. She sat down on the blanket, and began passing out bundles of daisies.
Mott tried his best to hide his surprise, "Is there somebody he's courting?"
"The day I court somebody, no matter who they are, is the day that I get a sword through my middle," Roden snapped.
"Violent words from a lover," Jaron placed his hand over his heart. "How could you forsake our love, dear captain?"
"Because you're the type of person to steal the blanket in the middle of the night and I get cold."
"You do steal the blanket, Jaron," Imogen noted.
"I am not a blanket stealer!"
He was indeed a blanket stealer.
Quite inconvenient on a snowing night.
"To start with a daisy chain, you need a pair of flowers. One is going to wrap around the other," Imogen held up the daisies, expertly wrapping one stem around its twin. "You sort of repeat this pattern until it's as long as you like. I sometimes tie the ends together with string because they stay longer, but I don't think we have anything. . ."
"I have string!" Tobias said.
"Never leaves home without it," Amarinda grinned. "Always insists that he might need to stitch somebody up."
"Can't help it, I'm friends with Roden."
"Speak to me kindly," Roden frowned.
"Not on your life."
"Prat."
"Idiot."
The first batch of daisy chains from Jaron and Tobias fell apart. Eventually, their daisies became too worn out, and they fell apart. However, Roden seemed to be a natural at first. . . Until about halfway through the chain when he accidentally broke off a daisy, causing the entire thing to fall apart.
Amarinda's crown was finished quickly, and in no time, her crown was resting on Tobias's head while she worked on a second one.
They made sure to speak to each other while they weaved. It helped keep their minds from wandering to dismal places.
Crowns were made and placed on heads.
Mott's bald head couldn't keep the crown in place until one was made to specifically fit his head, and his alone.
Tobias, at first, bore the most crowns. . .
But the circle made an unspoken pact, wrestled Jaron to the ground, and shoved as many daisy chains as they could onto and over his head.
It had been a long time since they'd all laughed that hard.
Duty called not long after they finished with all of their chains.
It came for Roden first in the form of a disgruntled pig farmer insisting that there bandits in the streets.
And then it came for Tobias, who naturally asked for Amarinda to come with him. They'd be busy for hours, patching up the unlucky soul who got himself kicked by a horse.
Jaron and Imogen left not long after. They'd avoided their responsibilities for too long.
Mott stayed behind, insisting that he could clean up the picnic by himself.
And he wondered what the oncoming years would bring.
Later that evening, as Jaron sat alone in his office reading decrees and letters, he couldn't shake the feeling that the afternoon he'd shared with his friends would be the last truly happy thing to happen for a long time.
And it scared him.
It scared him that things weren't slowing down as he'd hoped. Though Carthya was well on their way to recovering from the Avenian war, Bymar was teetering on the edge of civil war.
As their ally, Carthya had an obligation to assist Bymar.
But what could they offer?
If Jaron sent troops, the Carthyan population would be decimated.
If he didn't. . . He'd be a traitor.
Oh how he wished that he could spend every afternoon simply making daisy chains with his inner circle.