Brother Hickory was the first kind person who came to me in that cell. And you would think at that point, I would've, you know, apologized, be smart. No, no, I didn't. Instead, I continued wearing the mask I created. I became that crazed boy who was angry with his mother, hated his uncle, and wanted his cousin dead. I wanted to show him I was just as indifferent as a killer. It was the easiest way to the end I thought I wanted. However, he didn't buy it. He listened, unflinching and repeated the same thing he said when he walked in. He knew I didn't want to die, and he could help me if I asked. To my ears, he sounded like that warm breeze before a storm. He was something powerful and terrifying, but his voice was full of compassion. He cracked and revealed my truth. That I didn't want to die. And for the first time in a very long time, I cried. I begged for help.
After leaving the chapel, Soletus went home. He didn't want to go back to a half-empty dormitory to be reminded that he was left behind, so home it was. It also gave him a chance to visit his mother. He hadn't been home in a few days and assumed she wasn't at the Women's Society house. His baby sister kept her from going there every day currently and will continue to do so until she was older. However, his baby sister might have grabbed most of her attention, but certainly not all of it. She still wanted to know how he was doing and would say something along the lines of, "I nearly forgot I birthed three children, not two," because his lack of visiting.
It was easier on him if he didn't come home weekly, as she liked. Training was exhausting. When he was an initiate, he came over nearly every day because he was doing the schooling portions of his training. Brotherhood specific history lessons, map reading, and creation, plant identification, and field medic training weren't that demanding. Physical training, well, that required more of him. Some days, he just wanted to rest on his bunk and pray no one wanted him for something. However, someone usually needed him, wanted to ask him something, or needed his talents. It was usually a master. They thought to keep him busy with everything.
Soletus was unsurprised that nothing changed along the narrow lane where he grew up. Change wasn't something that elves did often. The same rock fencing guided him on either side of the road he grew up with. He passed by the same steep-roofed houses with the same elves that lived in there for generations. Some worked in their gardens while others were out talking to their neighbors or watched the road. All of them waved to him as he passed. They knew who he was. They had seen him many times walking or running with his cousin at his side. Several of them had children that played with in the past. None of them joined the Brotherhood, so he hadn't spoken to them in some time.
His parent's house was in the middle of the lane and at the corner of another. It stood on a low hill and was the only house that didn't have a loft. Instead, the house spread on a large lot with a tidy garden in the back and a huge lady oak in the front for shade.
When Soletus got closer, his father's dog, Onyx greeted him. The large obsidian hound galloped towards him with her ears flapping and planted her large paws on his chest so she could be petted.
"You miss me," he said, massaging her behind her floppy ears. When he was certain she was satisfied, he grabbed her by her ruff and shook her head until she had both paws on the ground. The large dog snorted and snapped playfully at him. He chased her, and she chased him back in tight circles until the two of them had enough play. She trotted back to her worn oval shaped spot in the ground where she watched the road and he walked inside the house.
The aroma of fresh bread greeted him and chopped wood. His older sister, Fern was there reading over their mother's shoulder while holding their little sister. The two of them looked up, mirroring each other surprise. It didn’t help that they looked remarkably alike as well. They could almost pull sisters if not for Fern’s skin and hair tone. Then again, he shared a lot of his mother’s features as well.
Both siblings had her lower and shorter pointed Dyne elf ears and the same dark blue irises. The only thing that they didn’t share was her skin tone. Being from the highlands, she didn't possess the golden tones that elves of the open plains had matching sandstone and stalks of fall and winter grasses.
She was from the north where the mountains met clouds with valleys of trees with trunks so wide the Dyne built homes on them well as entire roads system in certain area. However, their great branches stretching out blocked out the sun or filtered it. A Dyne elf living in the plains had to be protected from the sun. His mother often wore the colorful headscarves of Fenndish Dyne. She often called summer "scarf season."
Thankfully, neither Soletus nor his older sister inherited the ability to burn. Like their father, they toasted. What clued anyone knowing they were dual heritage were their ears. Though Soletus was often mistaken for Dyne. While his sister had their father's sandy hair tones, Soletus's hair was a flaxen shade, devoid of warmth. Though hers appeared to be close to a pale gray.
"Well, well, well, look who sauntered in," stated Fern, adjusting their sister in her arms. The babe clung to the collar of her soft shirt under the leather vest she wore. She likely had just come home doing whatever she the huntress did. Likely dealing with a pack of wild dogs killing sheep.
"Hey, I visit when I can," he said, spotting two loaves of bread cooling on the table. He took one of the oval loves and tore half, balanced each piece in his hand, and took the bigger half. His mother's face puckered.
"Don't they feed you," she asked with her gazed fixed on him as left table and when through the doorway to the kitchen. He rummaged for the jar of honey next. It was behind a large tin can on the shelf where his mother hid it. She let out an exasperated sigh behind him as he grabbed a clean wooden saucer from another shelf.
"I was with Brother Hickory at midday," he said.
"You were around that boy," his mother asked, as if that were the worst thing in the world.
Soletus rolled his eyes before he turned around and faced her.
"Yeah, and boy, is he a crazy one," he said in mock horror. "All that evil shyness and wicked silence he was doing. He couldn't look at me, so he settled on burning holes in the table with his evil gaze of awkwardness."
His mother's blue eyes became a thin line of annoyance. "Mock me all you want, but there are evil people out there. A boy has no right to kill his brother."
Soletus pour honey in the saucer and dipped his bread in it. "It was attempted murder. And if there was something evil about him, why would Brother Hickory have him? Plus, didn't you tell me to withhold my judgment for things I don't understand? The only thing I understood is that he’s the shyest boy I ever met."
Fern then came beside and bumped him with her hip. "I suppose you would be an expert on shyness given how much you were."
Soletus scowled at her. She just walked on circling the table, bouncing Saedee, who was giggling.
His mother didn't look very relieved. "Why were you even there?"
"Brother Hickory wanted me to meet me so I could help with him," he explained.
"You aren't going to help, are you?"
"Well, given that it's either that or twiddling my thumbs alone in the dormitory. He's not trouble," he assured her. "Seriously, he's the shyest fellow I've ever met. Wouldn't say much and when he actually spoke, I could barely hear him. Tense, jumpy, and scared, like a turtle."
The woman sighed. "I don't think you should. What you are doing isn't easy."
"Now that's very unFenndish of you," said Soletus, surprised. "Didn't you just get through telling me a week ago that Dias wants us to help all, not just those like us?"
He waited for his mother to argue that point. She only sniffed and him and admitted, “I've may have said something along those lines."
Soletus grinned. "The only reason I'm going over there is because Brother Hickory wants him around someone his age to get him talking. How hard can that be?"
"Harder than you might think. If he is as closed off as you say. He doesn’t know or trust you. And even if you prove are trustworthy, that doesn’t mean he’ll accept you as a reasonable person would," said his mother sagely. “You have to be patient with them. Because even if you make progress, they’ll slip back, struggle at the next step, and fail a few times. And you can only sit and watch. It's not something everyone can do it. It's easy to get disappointed and annoyed at them when they do. Feel they aren't trying hard enough. You must learn to not to be frustrated because it isn't about you, it's them."
Soletus wanted to tell her that getting a boy to talk wasn't such a dire situation she made it sound like. However, she seemed to be talking from experience.
“So, you’ve helped someone like him?”
His mother then said enigmatically. “I knew an individual, yes, long ago.”
The young monk waiting for her to say more. She didn’t. That was typical. His parents were odd about that. They never spoke a great deal about themselves or their past. His mother avoided talking about her family life a great deal. It had to be something to do with them, he guessed. He decided to move on and took another large bite of bread. While he chewed, he thought about what he wanted to say. She could clear something up for him.
"Do you know why Papa made it impossible for me to go to the culling," he asked.
His mother's eye narrowed. "So, he didn't speak with you?"
He shook his head.
She shook her head in annoyance. "About a week ago, he told me he was concerned about you being ready for the trials and all."
"Well, the culling would've been a fantastic way to prove that I was," argued Soletus.
"You need to talk to him about this. I'm just as confused as you are about it as I told him to speak to you."
"So why doesn't he think I'm ready," said Soletus. "I'm the best fighter, hands down in my training clutch, as well as all the others. I should have been able to go."
"Again," she said more firmly. "You need to speak to him. This isn’t a problem with your skill. He's proud of your skill. It's just… he just wants you ready."
Soletus blinked at his mother, knowing she was trying to lighten her words. "He thinks I'm still a boy, doesn't he," he asked her flatly.
"It's not that," she said quickly and stood. She took the jar of honey and looked for a new place to hide it. "He's better at explaining that sort of thing. I'm not the one who taught boys and young men to fight for the time he has."
She then walked into the kitchen and place it. It sounded like she scooted it on the far shelf over the bin of grain. Soletus noted that and kept eating. She then appeared again and walked behind him.
"All I know about is the one I do have," she said, hugging him from behind. Soletus could feel his face warming up in embarrassment but didn't have the heart to push her away. He took it. "Talk to your father when he gets back. And don't let him give you one of those poor explanations."
He nodded, but he didn't understand. Everyone always complemented on his ability to fight and the rate that he had learned. They even talked to him about doing the trials that year. His father wasn’t much different. Thought he mentioned something about him rushing forward and that he needed more time to grow. Soletus didn't know how much more prepared he needed to be.
He obeyed orders. He did extra training during personal time to get ahead. If a master wanted help, he would do it. If another warder wanted to spar, he would be their opponent. Soletus wondered if his father even wanted him to be a field warden. However, there was nothing else he wanted to do with his life. He didn't want to become peaceguard and protect the town. Neither did he want to take one of the many trade jobs the Brotherhood provided. No, since a child, he wanted to be a warden, and that was what he was going to be.
For now, he would wait until his father got back. Until then, Mien would be a good distraction, but he didn't know how long. It won't be too hard to break the boy's shell, he thought. In his youthful mind, anything he had been put through physically was harder.
He was wrong.
Princeling, I don't know if where I want to start is acceptable. The beginning is not when I was born. Not childhood either. The beginning is the end of life as I knew it. When I changed the trajectory of my life to one path to the next. So, where I want to begin is when I was in a prison cell at age 18. After I chased my mother away with nasty biting words. As harsh and as full of vitriol as I could make them. It was after all the rage inside of me was spent, the red haze cast over, lifted. It was then I realized I had made a terrible mistake.
-Excerpt from Interview with Mientheoderic, Brotherhood chaplain Written by Patriarch Lord Theris'Heron
From the rumors, Soletus expected a feral elf child raised by wolves. Someone snarling and spittle flying from his lips while cowering in a corner. That would have been interesting. Instead, what he got was a boy lying on a cot. He couldn't even get a good look at him. He was cocooned in his blanket. The part of him that was visible was the copper crown of his hair.
Yep, we've a genuine threat here. So scary, he thought, and wondered if the rumor was true. That they had caught him attempting to murder his brother in a rage.
He looked at the priest standing beside him for his thoughts. The aged elf wasn't projecting the amicable warmth he normally was. Instead, he stared at the boy grave faced. When he realized Soletus was watching him, his face lifted into a smile.
"I know what you're thinking. This isn't what you are training for," said Brother Hickory before a yawn took him. He rubbed his tired eyes as he finished. "But he needs to be around someone other than me. That's why you're here."
Soletus looked at the boy again. It was Brother Hickory's duty, as the Dias Brotherhood counselor, to deal with those who were trouble. Not only in the monastery, but in the town as well. He normally didn't involve other in his process. What was stranger was that the boy wasn't from town. He was a noble's son. A special case.
"Why," he asked.
"He doesn't trust me. He's too…" Brother Hickory paused. His thin brows pulled together as he searched for a word.
"Too what," prompted Soletus.
The priest waved his hand, giving up. "I can't think off of three hours of sleep. You'll see what I mean when you speak to him."
Soletus glanced down at his new assignment again, wondering what the sleepy priest was trying to say. It would help him understand why he was chosen. He was a monk, a warder in rank. He should have marched off the previous day to be with the other warders in his training clutch to cull drass beasts. What he was doing was something for a junior warden. Then again, a young acolyte priest would be more appropriate. Then again, they had few young priests in the order. So instead of sulking on his bunk about being left behind for no good reason, Master Marth came to him with Brother Hickory's request.
The boy then shifted in bed as if he was waking up. However, he rolled over to the wall, curling back up in a fetal position. Brother Hickory tapped Soletus on his shoulder and gestured with his head for him to follow. They returned to the foyer and continued their conversation in the small kitchen that was Brother Hickory's dining and common room. He had his bedroom and workroom down the hall, but always spoke to everyone in the open sunlit room.
The priest gestured towards the bubbling pot resting on the small kettle stove. The young monk declined. He didn't know how long the contents had been overcooking. Everyone knew it was safer not to eat Hickory's cooking. Instead, he pulled out a chair from the round table and sat in it backwards, just as whatever was in the pot rattled. With a pop, steam mixed in with smoke billowed into the air. Hickory walked over to it and poured some water in it, causing the contents to pop and sizzle. He gave it a little stir and joined Soletus at the table.
"Just a little something for the lad when he wakes up," stated Brother Hickory.
Poor fellow going to starve, thought Soletus. Brother Hickory was well-known for his kindness and burning food. It wasn't unusual to walk into the chapel with the odor of burnt food floating in the air. He stayed well fed despite it. A widow named Saffron kept him plump, so cooking disasters didn't leave him starving. It looked like today was going to be no exception. She would feed the boy when she realized Hickory was trying to kill him.
"I know this isn't ideal compared to what you've been training for," said Hickory. "This has little to do with protecting the province from drass beast, but this is helping the people."
It not being ideal was an understatement, in his opinion. He didn't voice it. Instead, he said. "I might as well do something. No one here to train with. They are all gone to the culling." And it all ruined my chance to show Papa that I was ready to go through the trials, he thought.
"I'm sorry about that. I suppose it was your father?"
Soletus nodded. He didn't think his unhappiness was that obvious. But then again, Hickory was all-knowing.
Hickory then told him with empathy. "He means well. He just wants you prepared. And I know you are going to disagree but, perhaps this is a sign from Dias that you should enter into priesthood,” he said with a bright smile. “We need more young folks. You've some making for it."
Soletus frowned. His father said that recently. "Is that something you come up with or Papa tell you?"
"It's something I've always thought to ask of you," said Hickory.
It was the other option he could have taken if he didn't get through his monk training. Many thought he wouldn't survive it. He wasn't, by a few standards, a suitable candidate. His father told him that the training wasn't about ability, it was about if you were willing. He knew he said it to encourage him. All he ever wanted was to be a field warden. Priest, as he found out, didn't do anything. If he were lucky, they would send him to a small chapel in a town far away, converting unbelievers. As noble a task as it was to get others into hearing the voice of Dias, it was dull and thankless.
"It's not very exciting," he said without giving it a thought.
Hickory didn't take offense at all. "I understand. I didn't want to be a priest either when I first came here. Granted, there is no other choice for a chanter, but that’s beside the point. However, over time, I've learned to form a good temper and keep an eye on the very large flock of mine. I feel I will need all I learned with this one."
"But you said he wasn't trouble.
"Not all people who are troubled are trouble themselves. It's just that I've had him for a week, and I never met a lad as old as him being so completely…" Hickory paused again and shook his head. "No, you just have to meet him. I can assure you he isn't possessed by some evil spirit."
Soletus let out a snorting chuckled. "Everyone seems to think you are dealing with Maw spawn."
Brother Hickory hung his head down. "For once I would like official business not gossiped it around. One would think the Brotherhood comprised of a bunch of old nattering hens at this point."
Soletus smiled in an effort not to laugh.
"The only issue that might cause concern is he's a latent chanter coming into his abilities. If it wasn't the phrase of light he's fixed on, I wouldn't be so worried."
Soletus was surprised to hear the boy was a chanter. Then again, Dias didn't choose a person to become a chant and wield the phrases of the Hymn of Dias based on mortal standards. The common thought was that those born chanter weren't evil. There were many examples of those who did fall into darkness. Not to mention, Dias exact words were: "those who are chosen have the heart and desire to give and help."
Attempted murder didn't exactly show that in Soletus's opinion.
Brother Hickory read his surprise and told him, "The reason why a person is chosen to become a chanter is not for us to question. As Dias says, it's based on what they have the potential to do. We have to act towards that potential. And he has the potential to do great things." Soletus saw a twinkle of excitement formed in the old priest's teal eyes. "His phrase of light is something special. It's aligned with the sun and hot. A little odd given his personality, however, he could be trained as a combat chanter. It's been a bit since we had one. But he'll never become one unless he's less…." Hickory gestured in the air trying to find that word again.
Soletus saw movement behind Brother Hickory's head. He leaned to the side and spotted their topic of conversation. The boy had woken up and was peering into the room as if checking for danger. He run a hand through his disheveled hair. It stuck up all over the place since it was cut to the length a half-elf would wear. When he spotted Soletus eyeing him, he slunk back behind the doorframe.
Soletus pointed, and Hickory caught him just as he vanished from view.
"Oh no, what did I tell you about shrinking away from people? Confidence, my boy," encouraged Brother Hickory loudly.
The boy stepped out, not looking directly at them or in their direction for no more than just a few seconds before he found the chair as his object to focus on. He pulled it out from under the small table and sat. He looked down at the tabletop. It wasn't as if Soletus could see his eyes. The boy's forelocks covered up them up.
"Mientheoderic," said Brother Hickory to him. "This is Warder Soletus'Sheldmartin I was telling you about. His family is one of the longest-serving families in the Dias Brotherhood. His father is the son of the current Arch Monk. He is a good tod to have in your acquaintances."
Soletus offered his hand. "Hello."
With his eyes still cast down at the table, the boy reached out, shook his hand once before he recoiled, and folded his arm around him with the other one. From what Soletus's father told him, the lack of eye contact meant deception, but that wasn't the case. The boy reminded him of a dog kicked too many times. He glanced in the old priest's direction and saw that Hickory's brow became a line of heavy concern.
Soletus then suggested, "Maybe you should leave the two of us alone for a bit."
The boy shrank into his chair. Instead of the priest having mercy on him, he stood.
"You can't hide your face forever, lad," said the priest. "We all do bad and embarrassing things. Some worse than others. However, hiding behind a face of shame and fear is no way to deal with it."
The boy's shoulders drooped. He hung his head down farther, showing the crown of his fox-red hair.
Hickory let out a long sigh. "Don't be afraid to talk to him like a normal boy," advised the priest. "I'll be at the altar if you need me."
Soletus nodded and waited until Hickory's footsteps faded before he talked to his charge again.
"So, what do I call you? Mientheoderic it’s a strong name, but a mouthful. Unless that is what you like to be called."
The boy stared at the table. He opened his mouth and said barely above a whisper, "Mien."
"Short, quick, simple, alright Mien," said Soletus, leaning forward. "I don't know what Brother Hickory wants me to do. I mean, did he tell you anything?"
Mien shook his head.
"Do you want anything? Something is bubbling here that Hickory forgot," said Soletus and then smelled it. He jumped from the chair and dove at the stove. Hickory's potholder was nowhere in sight. There was nothing else to do but grab the metal handle and dumped the pot on the wooden counter to his right. The heat stung his hand but didn’t burn it. Shaking his hand in the air sufficed to cool it down. The young monk was sure it was comical looking, but Mien remained silent. What once was porridge was now sizzling burnt goo. He searched for a bowl and found the square quilted potholder bowl together.
Soletus poured the contents of the pot into the bowl. Most of the porridge was a blackened layer on the bottom. What was left might have been still edible. He brought the half-full bowl to Mien.
"You need a little something in you even though it's sort of burnt," he said.
Mien lifted his head and grimaced. The young monk handed him a wooden spoon and a tin mug of water.
"Not exactly what you're used to, but it'll fill the hole."
The boy scooped a tiny amount on the end of the spoon and tasted it with his tongue. The young monk then eased himself down in his chair and waited for him to say something. He didn’t. A simple thank you would've been a nice start.
"So which house are you from," he asked.
"Cyan," answered Mien, just loud enough for mice to find him amicable.
Soletus tried to remember what he knew about them. They were a branch of House Jay, a ruling house. That, however, made him a minor noble. House Cyan were long time patrons of the Brotherhood. They supplied them tao stone from their mines, but no sons were members. The only reason he figured for their support was security from drass beasts. Having a son who caused such a commotion was bad for their reputation. In fact, it was humiliating. It surprised him that the boy wasn't disowned.
Mien stirred his bowl with disinterest after a few more bites. Soletus looked around for something else. There wasn't.
"That bowl of yuck probably isn't very satisfying. Brother Hickory is an awful cook, but he might have something in the back worth eating."
Mien glanced up, showing his face. He was young looking with freckles around his nose. However, there was something about those eyes of his. There was a sharpness in them that held intelligence, as he was wearing a dubious expression on his face.
"I take it you've seen it?"
Mien bobbed his head.
"There might be something. Come on. Getting out and doing something will make you feel better."
The boy followed him outside wordlessly. He wasn’t as guarded when they walked out into the open. In fact, he relaxed a little as he came to a halt slightly behind Soletus at the sight of the choking nest of weeds.
"I think there are some carrots in there. We should weed them out. It'll get us something to do."
Soletus got down on his knees and started working. Mien followed carefully, pausing at each plant, and tugging at them slowly. Soletus ripped everything up in front of him with abandon. He spent many days weeding his mother's garden. She expected her plants free to grow as big as they liked, and she sent him out to make sure that happened. He pulled up anything he saw, even ones that had thorns on them. He had thick enough callouses on his hands to protect them. However, when he reached for a fuzzy plant, Mien's hand shot out and gripped his wrist.
"I wouldn't pull that up barehanded," the boy warned. He wasn't looking at him directly, but he was speaking louder, or as loud as a shy individual could. "It has a toxin in their pubescence that if it gets in your eyes, causes temporary blindness. Harmless when small, but once it flowers you need to be careful."
The weed was well-past flowering. There were withered white petals scattered beneath the plant.
"Thanks for the warning," said Soletus, studying him in awe. He doesn't speak like a boy.
Mien withdrew his hand as quickly as he placed and begin working again. "A spade would be better to remove it," he added, speaking low again.
Soletus left to search for any garden tools Brother Hickory had. There was a shed place in the far corner. It was dusty and clearly not touched since spring. Mien stood aside and let him take care of the plant. Once they removed it and tossed aside where it wouldn't harm anyone, the two of them continued cleaning out the entire plot. There were carrots there, some turnips, and onions. The carrots and turnips weren't anything to look at. The onions somehow managed, but onions didn't taste good alone. There was a wild briar hidden containing a few late-season blackberries for their hard work. They ate those.
The entire time, the young monk talked to him about the Brotherhood and the town of Grace's Hope. It gave Soletus enough time to study Mien. From what he gathered, the boy listened, asked no questions. He only glanced at him if he had to. Most of all, he was strung tight. The slightest of noise would take his attention away until he found the source. Only then he would relax again.
When Hickory sought them out, Mien was sitting on the ground and jumped to his feet the moment the priest appeared. Soletus rose and Mien scooted over and used him as a shield. Brother Hickory was too fixated on his clean garden plot to notice the strange reaction, or he had seen it and chose not to respond.
"I was saving that for when they suffered me with another badly behaving boy, but they wouldn't do such a good job," he said impressed, looking straight at Mien. "I wouldn't think you would do such work."
Mien cast his gaze down at his feet.
"He was fine," said Soletus, slapping the boy on the back. Mien scooted away from him. "Well, he was before that."
"That was just a friendly slap," Hickory said to Mien.
He didn't act as if it was friendly.
The priest then pointed over his shoulder and said, "Why don't you run inside and get prepared for your training. I want you to go to the altar and pray. Recite the Hymn of Dias in Melodic. I'll be there shortly."
Mien regarded Soletus with a long stare before rushing back inside the chapel. The young monk figured that was about as good of a goodbye he was going to get.
Hickory scratched his head. "So, what do you think?"
"It's like he's in a shell," Soletus assessed.
Brother Hickory bobbed his head in agreement. "That's surprisingly accurate. Couldn't have said it better myself."
"Was he always like that?"
"From what I understood, he was reserved before, but he's retracted since everything happened."
Soletus thought about that for a moment about what he learned and then declared, "I'm confused."
"Why would someone that timid try to kill someone?"
Hickory looked at the door as if he could see Mien through it. "Why do normal people do bad things? They do it because of greed, anger, or fear. Once those things are in control, they make an elf desperate, and they do things they normally wouldn't do."
"So, he was afraid because I don't see him doing it out of rage."
"It was anger," corrected Brother Hickory. "The wrath of a quiet man is terrible because a quiet man thinks. What he did was premeditated."
"If that's the case, then why is he here and not at the Pit or dead?"
Brother Hickory cut him a side-glance. "His situation isn't a clear-cut case. Mercy was on his side. There's no need to worry about him repeating his actions, as you can see. What I am concerned about it is that shell you mentioned. He's locked tight. Your job is to get him out of that shell. I'll work on the managing. Do you think you can do that?"
"I can," said Soletus confidently. It didn't seem outside of his realm of abilities.
They have sparked my imagination since I was a boy. They were shared with me via my mother through song or the tales my sister would tell me about her adventures. Arlwin’s were the ones I enjoyed the most. They were the most exciting thing in the mind of a small boy made of blown glass.
My mother was often sick, so I wasn’t alone during my days spent indoors. However, I longed for adventure. To be at my sister’s side and to meet those whom she would tell stories about. One individual whom she called a friend, Soletus’Sheldmartin, was my favorite to hear about. One might say I idolized him. The order he served; the Dias Brotherhood was out of some mythical tale.
A sheltered young boy such as I could only dream of being among those elves. My life was an estate house in the countryside of Summerset.
A single event changed my trajectory from one path to the next. And I, a boy of eight, saw the monument of the Dias Brotherhood monastery rising above the wall that protected the town.
A world, told through me from stories, became mine.
I wasn't excited about it at first. My circumstances that led me to the point weren’t of my choosing. I was far from home for the first time in my life. I was alone. My mother, who had been a pillar of my existence, was gone. My father didn’t want me. In boyish mind, I was nothing more than an orphan tossed to the gutter.
I ignored all the monks and priests trying to figure out what to do with my unexpected arrival and choose to cry. I only came with a note penned by my sister and that was soon carried off.
Then I was greeted by a familiar name greeted me. Through the tears I saw in front of me was a young man with eyes like two sunlit peridot and hair the color of a fox's coat. Mien introduced himself like he did her, soft like a breeze and unassuming for someone who was a force of nature. I met legend. Granted, that didn't complete abate my thought about being abandoned. Though being among those who I played as in my rooms helped.
It was decided that Mien would take care of me. And I learned that the stories weren’t like who he was in real life. I expected a mighty chanter and received an easily exasperated young man of an elf who was an anxious mess because I was the king’s son. If I died, it’ll be his head.
That didn’t stop him from being my teacher and taught me to read and write when no one seemed capable. He taught me songs and encouraged my want to perform in front of others. Whenever I was hurt or sick, he would work hard to keep me well. Usually, the one I would find sleeping on the floor beside me or in a chair waiting for me to awaken.
Though one might think it was obligation, but obligation doesn't make you hug someone. It doesn't make you worry yourself to an anxious mess in tears. It doesn't make you protective as a mother bear. And certainly, doesn't make you cry when you must give the boy you took in back to his family.
I love Mien very much. I probably wouldn’t be the man I am if not for him.
Yet this story isn’t just about him.
I can’t start with him. I have to start with my sister’s friend.
I expected to meet him, but I forgot that Mien and he were best friends. So, I got to see a lot of him. Master Sol stood like a giant in the literal of senses. I was a small boy. When we met, I called him by name and that confused him. However, he was easy to spot. Flaxen hair kept in a long-braided tail, dark eyes, and a voice that was both deep and warm.
I knew of his strength and his tenacity. I knew of his fighting prowls. What I didn’t know that he was a loving affectionate elf who became my big brother. He was my playmate, advice giver, and the one to encourage me to do things shouldn’t. He taught me how to be a monk because a chanter like me should be well-rounded. I became a scout because of him. Later I served under him. He was my second warder, and then my first warden. Then I became his equal.
Yet, this story isn’t just about him.
Mien and Master Sol introduced me to two other people of significant influence. Mien led me to Matron Kiao or Sister Kiao at the time. She would watch me from time to time. She filled my head with as much knowledge as she could. I might've lacked the ability to heal, but I could've become a physician with the amount of knowledge she and the infirmary staff taught me. She never wanted to treat me like I was her child, but failed as much as Mien did. She taught me how to use my voice as a chanter and how to treat a lady among several lessons a young prince needed to learn.
And then there was Sol's father, First Warden Oeric. He taught me skills so I wouldn't be a useless male nobling. He taught me things like making a campfire, how to determine the direction you were traveling regardless of the time of day, weather, or terrain. The constellations in the sky and he taught me to use the bow my sister gifted me for my birthday. He also taught me a very important lesson. One without words. That what you are doesn't define you.
So really, this story, no these stories are about them so I can write about myself. This has confused the archive staff because all they wanted was me to write something about myself. A typical thing they ask all Patriarch. You write something for the future. And certainly, I could spend paragraphs writing about me, the town, its current state, and a smattering of personal philosophical thought. However, all my life, I listened to stories. And I feel my story isn’t just about me.
I simply cannot begin where I showed up. No, I must start this tale at the point where it began. And it does with Mien and Master Sol decades ago.
That beginning is simply when they met.
-Patriarch Lord Theris’Heron
Well, this took longer than I thought. What I've learned is that I'm having more and more trouble with reading directions. I pretty much did half the work I needed to. I've paid all my dues and I will slowly get everything from thebrotherhoodarchive.wordpress.com here.
Please note that is the old version of the stories. So that blog site will be removed. I don't know how long I'm going to keep it around.
As of right now, the updated versions are being posted on Royal Road and Neovel.
So when am I going to start uploading chapters here? I don't know. I'm not sure if I want to completely do everything as I had done it before. I feel there are a few things I need to square here and at the old location. Feels like I moved and I'm still emptying my old place.
But was moving really necessary?
Yes, for my productivity sake, it was best I move. Heck, I'm likely going to be moving from wordpress in general. I made my first word press blog when I was in my 20's. I loved wordpress for many years. However, it's just very clear my vision of what I want a platform for writing to be, is different from what those in power of wordpress wants. So weebly, please in existence. Don't make a Guttenburg editor.
I thought you said you were moving to Wix? Wix is too complicated. I am a simple minded individual. I hit my fingers against a keyboard. Storyplots for brains.