Hey guys! Welcome back to Hear a Tale! So sorry for the wait, and thank you for bearing with me :) Now, review time!
Thanks so much to CitrusChickadee for reviewing! Poor Therion, always with the trust issues XD Glad you enjoyed! I always love expanding on Travel/Tavern Banter details as well :)
With that, on with the tale!
Relevant Events: Everyone's backstories
48. Childhood
The boy knelt behind the fence post, fingers curled around the hilt of his wooden sword as he watched the knights' training session with wide eyes. Their silvery blades flashed through the air, clashing against one another as they swung, blocked, and parried. The sharp ring of steel echoed through the training grounds, and though most children might have covered their ears, to the boy, it was practically music.
He wasn't technically supposed to be there. There were chores to do and lessons to sit through, but no matter how often his parents exasperatedly chided him, the boy was ever drawn back to the Knights of Hornburg.
After all, he was certain that he would join them someday.
Though he was just a couple of years too young to be accepted as a squire, he did not let that fact stop him from training as often as he could manage. He would come to crouch in this spot, just out of sight, in order to memorize the soldiers' exercises and training routines. Then, at home in the dead of night, he would sneak out to the area behind his family's house and work his way through those same motions with his wooden sword. Any spectator might have only seen a child playing with a toy, but in his mind, the boy was already a knight in training.
The boy exhaled, long and slow, as his gaze locked on one of the knights performing a swift block and thrust, sending his opponent's blade flying from his hands. Though he did not stand, he carefully lifted his wooden sword in an approximation of the same form the knight had used, slowly thrusting forward until the tip thudded against the fence post he hid behind. He would have to practice that move at full speed later that night.
"Have at you!" he whispered, a grin appearing on his face. One day, he wouldn't have to sneak around and wield nothing more than a wooden toy.
One day, he would protect the kingdom.
()()()()
The boy pored over the tome in his lap as he sat cross-legged in bed, squinting in the dim candlelight. Ever since he had first watched one of his teachers demonstrate the art of fire magic, he had known that he needed to learn how to do the same. The way a perfect orb of flame had suddenly appeared in the man's hand, without the use of any kindling or flint…it was nothing short of incredible.
People were born with unique propensities for magic, the teacher had warned. Anyone could learn it given the proper instruction and training, but some would find it much more difficult than others. In addition, some people would have greater affinity for certain types of magic over others. No one quite knew why this was the case; it seemed to merely be the luck of the draw in terms of genetics.
The boy was not worried. He had the distinct feeling that he was one of the lucky ones.
He had read as much as he could on the subject of magical theory, and it all just made sense to him. He couldn't explain it - though perhaps he could learn that in time as well - but he could almost feel the magical potential stirring within him.
All that was left to do now was unlock it.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway jolted him from his thoughts, and he hastily shoved the tome beneath his blanket, then blew out the candle on his nightstand before drawing the covers to his chin and shutting his eyes. Had one of his parents seen the faint candlelight beneath his doorway? They were always telling him to stop staying up so late reading…
The boy held himself as still as he could, listening as the door to his room opened for a moment, then quietly shut. He opened his eyes to darkness, then exhaled in relief. No lecture for him that night, then.
Of course, perhaps that had been a sign that he needed to be more careful. The boy pulled his blanket over his head, raising his knees to form a sort of tent beneath it. He propped his book up against his legs, then took a deep breath.
He knew the theory. He knew what he was supposed to do in practice. He had the potential. All he needed to do…was give it a try.
He flicked his index finger, and a tiny, controlled flame appeared above it.
The boy grinned widely.
()()()()
"That'll be 300 leaves!"
The girl stood on tiptoe behind the counter, grinning broadly at the customer in front of her, not even caring about the fact that he was clearly trying his best not to laugh. If she stood up tall enough, the tops of her shoulders just barely cleared the countertop, and as far as she was concerned, that meant she was more than ready to run the family store on her own.
Her father, standing directly behind her, was less sure of this, but he appreciated his daughter's enthusiasm enough to let her have her fun.
"Well now, you drive a hard bargain, young lady," the customer chuckled, playing along. "Are you sure I can't convince you to go any lower on that price?"
The girl shook her head firmly. "Nope! 300's as low as I can go!" She'd heard her parents say things like that many times in the past, and seeing as they were the best merchants in the world, she knew it had to be the right thing to say.
"Not even, say…280 leaves?"
"300 or nothin'!"
The man laughed and reached into his coin purse. "Alright, alright…you win, Miss Shopkeep. 300 leaves it is."
The girl's father chuckled as the customer counted out the coins onto the counter. "There'll be no haggling with this one, it seems!" he said, ruffling the girl's hair. "Six years old, and already a ruthless saleswoman…seems we might've taught her a little too well."
"Ah, well," the customer replied, sliding the leaves over to the girl, who took them with a bright smile, "she takes after her parents, that's for sure. She's bound to be a great merchant someday!" The man smiled kindly at her as he picked up the herbs he'd purchased. "A pleasure doing business with you, little lady."
"Thank you! Please come again!" the girl chirped in response. Another common phrase she'd picked up from her parents, and her chest swelled with pride as her father nodded in approval.
"That's my girl!" he said fondly as the customer took his leave. "At this rate, you'll have a feather in your cap in no time, mark my words."
()()()()
The girl breathed in deeply, letting the sting of the frigid air in her lungs drown out the dull ache of grief that still lived in her heart. It had only been a couple of days since she'd finally been coaxed into leaving her room for the first time. The pangs of sadness still hit her frequently, but they were slowly getting easier to calm.
"Phili, come look!"
Having a new friend by her side certainly helped.
She opened her eyes, looking over to where the archbishop's daughter had collapsed on her back in the snow, and was now pumping her arms and legs back and forth through the drifts. The other girl soon jumped up and scrambled out of the indent she'd made, heedless of the ice crystals that now clung to her hair and the entire back of her dress.
"See?" she exclaimed proudly. "Looks just like an angel!"
The girl couldn't help but give a tiny smile in return. Her new friend had been doing this a lot lately - taking her outside to play in the snow at her favorite spot, excitedly showing her anything she could think of to cheer her up. The girl had never met anyone quite so determined to bring joy into the life of someone she still hardly knew.
Despite the lingering pain of loss, it all did much to warm the girl's chilled heart.
"It's beautiful, Anna," she replied politely, "but…aren't you cold now?"
"Huh? Well…maybe a little. But that's part of the fun! We play out here 'til we're freezing, then go back home and bundle up by the fire!"
"I guess so…"
"It's fun, trust me! Here, you try it now!"
"Huh? W-What do you - ?"
"A snow angel! It's your turn! Or else…" She spread her snow-covered arms and grinned. "...I'll have to come give you a big hug!"
A startled giggle escaped the girl's lips as her friend lunged toward her, cold embrace at the ready. "Okay, okay!" she laughed. "I'll do it!" She fell back into the snow, surprised at how comfortable the soft powder felt on her back. She knew that most people viewed being covered in snow as a bad thing, but that certainly hadn't stopped the archbishop's energetic daughter. That girl was determined to have fun no matter what "most people" had to say.
Perhaps…this was what having a sister was like.
()()()()
"Father, Father, look at this!"
The girl stood on tiptoe on one foot, her other leg extended almost perfectly out behind her as she raised her arms to the sky. She may have wobbled slightly, but considering her lack of formal instruction, the pose was quite a good impression of the dancers she had so admired in the play her father had taken her to see.
Her father looked up from whatever he was reading and smiled warmly at the girl's excitement, nodding his approval. "You're as graceful as a swan, my dear," he praised her, causing a beaming smile to appear on her face.
"Do you think I could take lessons, Father?"
"Hmm…I believe that could be arranged, yes." His words were kind, but his attention was clearly split, his eyes flicking between his daughter and whatever bureaucratic nonsense had found its way onto his desk. "I…will look into it soon. In the meantime, Primrose, perhaps you could practice your dancing out in the gardens for a bit? I have a few matters I need to attend to."
The girl deflated slightly. He had been like this a lot recently - always distracted, poring over tomes she figured were far too dull to bother asking about. She knew that her father was an important man, and that it was normal for him to be busy…but she couldn't help but feel a bit lonely and left out.
Still, she wouldn't complain. If nothing else, she did not want to add to her father's stress if she could help it. And besides, she thought, the color rising to her cheeks, if she went to the gardens, perhaps she would see that kind, silver-haired gardener that always gave her sweets and read her lovely poems.
Maybe practicing outside wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Alright, Father…I'll see you later, then."
()()()()
The boy opened his eyes.
He still felt weak, but the burn in his throat and the terrible pressure in his chest had both lessened some. For the first time in weeks, he found himself able to take a deep breath without dissolving into a fit of coughs and whimpers of pain. Whatever the medicine man had given him…finally, it was something that worked.
With wobbling arms, the boy pushed himself up into a sitting position atop his bed. The man had told him to rest, sure, but how could he? After so much time spent trapped in the never-ending haze of sickness, he needed to get up. If he stayed in that fetid, sweat-soaked bed any longer, he was going to lose his mind.
Besides…he wanted to talk to the man who had just saved his life.
He stumbled out of bed, sights set on the traveling pock-a-therry that stood at the table across the room. At the sound of the boy's stumbling footsteps, the man turned, eyebrows raised.
"Still awake, are we? Son, you shouldn't be up and about this soon…the potion is doing its job, but you still need your rest in the meantime." He gently placed a hand on the boy's back, guiding him back to the bed, then picked him up and carefully set him down on the edge of it. "Do you understand?"
"H…How…?" the boy croaked, wincing at the under-used rasp of a voice that came out. "H-How'd you…d-do it…? What's…w-what's…?" He swallowed thickly, then, so as not to hurt his throat further, simply pointed at the empty vial on his nightstand.
"Hm?" The man glanced at the vial. "What's in the potion, you ask?"
The boy nodded. "W-Wanna…be like y-you…"
"Like me…? An apothecary, you mean?" At the boy's second nod, the man smiled. "Aha…very well! Who am I to refuse such an inquisitive young mind? I'd be more than happy to teach you. You see, the elixir was brewed from the feather of an Ogre Eagle…"
As the man explained, the boy hung onto every word, eyes wide.
Someday, he thought, I'm gonna save people just like he does!
()()()()
The boy darted through the darkened city streets, his small form flitting from shadow to shadow in what faint traces of moonlight seeped through the clouds. His pursuers had torches, sure, but they were hardly an advantage over him. He thrived in the darkness.
It was all he'd ever known.
He didn't have parents, and couldn't remember ever having them. All he had were vague impressions of once being taken care of, as well as the knowledge of his own name. That was from a time before he could even form proper thoughts, however. It may as well not have even been him.
He wasn't about to grieve for a life or family he might have once had. After all, he was doing just fine on his own.
Clutching the three stolen purses to his chest, the boy ducked into an alleyway, scooping up a small, broken-off piece of cobblestone as he slid behind a row of barrels. With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the stone as hard as he could in the direction he'd previously been running, smirking to himself when he heard it clatter against someone's windowpane.
As expected, the guards chasing him charged forward with renewed confidence at the sound, under the impression that their quarry had just wheeled around a corner further down the road. In reality, of course, the boy simply watched smugly as they ran right past his hiding spot, the light of their torches soon fading completely into the distance.
"Heh," he whispered to himself. "Idiots."
It had been his mistake to step a little too close to the third person he'd pickpocketed outside of the tavern, causing the man to raise the alarm and call the guards, but it had been easy enough to shake them. Not to mention he'd still gotten the purse anyway - the man had been too busy shouting his head off to realize that he should have been trying to get his money back. When people were that oblivious, it was surprisingly easy for a mere child to become the most lucrative thief in Orsterra.
Sure, he had been caught and tossed into orphanages a few separate times, but that was when he'd first started out and was still learning - and he always managed to escape said orphanages within a day or two of arriving there. With every lock he picked and every purse he lifted, he was getting better and better. The guards were no match for him anymore.
In fact, he thought, it was doubtful that anyone other than a fellow thief would be able to outwit him now.
()()()()
The girl's eyes narrowed, her gaze locked on the wooden target across the clearing from her. She held the bowstring pulled taut, focused on her slow, silent breathing as her master carefully circled her, correcting her stance in a few different minute ways.
"Mhm…there," the man finally said, stepping back. "Perfect. Thou may shooten when thou art ready."
The girl took one more breath.
Then, she let her arrow fly.
She did not look away as the arrow soared across the clearing, just as her master had taught her. Unblinking, she followed its path, all the way from her bow to where it lodged itself into the red-painted center of the target.
A perfect shot.
"Excellent!" her master exclaimed. "Were that a beast, 'twould hath no doubt fallen!"
"Thank thee, Master," the girl murmured. Her face was kept neutral, but her shoulders straightened a bit with pride. It was not her first time hitting the dead center of the target, but she was managing to do so far more consistently now. Surely, it would not be long before she was finally allowed to join her master on a real hunt.
"Always so serious," the man chuckled. "Comen now, thou art allowed to smilen at thy success!"
The girl paused. "...I will smilen when I have completed my first hunt."
"Ha! So that is to ben the deal, hm?" He paused, a hand on his chin. "Well, then…perhaps we must maken that happen. What sayest thou? Shalle I finden a quarry for us?"
She felt her heart leap. Suddenly, it was significantly more of a struggle to keep her voice even as she replied, "I…i-if thou thinkest I am ready, Master."
A clear understatement, but for once, her master did not tease her. Instead, he smiled, kneeling down to her level and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Thou art more than ready," he said softly. "I am very proud of thee, and I know that thou shalt performen wonderfully. What I want to know, however, is what thou wantest."
"I…" The girl stood up just a bit taller. "...I wolde liken to joinen thee on thy hunt."
Her master's smile only grew. "And I wolde ben more than happy to obligen."
See you guys next time for Tale 49: Stripes!