A Call to War: C01S04

The courtyard on the side of the house was filled with all the commoners of Delrin, the farmers and tradesmen, as Elsbet and Marcus stepped out of the manor hand in hand. They were both tipsy from the King's Blood, but Marcus was managing his condition. Elsbet, on the other hand, leaned on him to make it to the table that had been set up for his family.

Though the sun had yet to set, they townsfolk had build a raging bonfire in the fire pit, keeping the area warm despite the chilly air. Marcus sat Elsbet in a chair next to his mother, and fell into the head seat. The peasantry came forth and wished him well as a knight, and the couple well as the future rulers of their lands.

Marcus thanked them, feeling more weary than before. He wanted to sleep, but aside from the feast, there was still another duty for him in the night. So he forced himself to stay his eyes, enjoying the flutes and lyres played by the half dozen minstrels in the town. The food was brought to the head of the table he sat at. He started to rise, to give the toast that was expected of him, but Athos placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

The Lord Mayor raised his hands, bringing silence to the crowd as the sun set. “My people!” he proclaimed to a flurry of cheer. He raised his hands again, bringing silence once more. “My people, today is a day of days!” He looked down to Marcus, pride bursting forth from his expression. “My son! Your next Lord Mayor! Marcus Delrinne has returned home after four years!” More cheers erupted.

Athos controlled the revelry of the people with his considerable experience. “When he left us, he was a boy! Now he is a man!” Cheering rose again. He did nothing to silence it though. “And a Knight of the Lord Count of Elibe!” The applause and cheer thundered louder. “And a husband to the most beautiful flower in all of Nolis!” The enthusiasm of the ground was deafening.

Athos allowed them to cheer for a moment before bringing calm once more. “Tonight, we celebrate those three accomplishments. Tonight, we remind this son of Delrin, this son of your Lord Mayor Athos, that in his trials in life,” he swept his hand broadly in front of him as he spoke, “that we are one with him! And his destiny! To Marcus!” The crowd burst into further cheer. “Now I ask of each of you to think upon the goodness Marcus has brought to each of us.” Athos lowered his voice, but it still boomed across the courtyard.

He took a horn and silver goblet from the table, a gift from his father and raised it. “Let him know that we are gracious is his pain to serve our Lord Count and protect our lives and livelihoods.” His words rose to a thunderous crescendo. “To Marcus Athosen fer Marcus Delrinne!” He put the goblet to his lips and threw back the strong sulth in it as many in the crowd did the same with their drinks.

He took the goblet and placed it in Marcus's hands, grabbing his cane from the table. Marcus was all nerve, having never been asked to address the whole town before. He rose as Athos took his chair at the head of the table. Marcus walked to the front of the table, his eyes half closed as he thought. What could he say to best his father's words, he seemed to wonder.

He raised his head, looking out to the crowd. It was intimidating for him. His training had been in marshal might, not in administrating. But he endured, opening his mouth to speak. “I am not the orator my father is,” he began, his voice quiet but steady. “But I am the heir of Delrin. In a short time, father will pass his title and lands to me, and we will have to make due with my abilities. I have been traveling for many days, only to reach home and have a feast thrown in my honor. And to find that I have a wife, as lovely as she is. Everything has happened with such speed, that I've had no time to begin preparing for this.”

He took a step forward, hardly able to stand the looks of awe he was being given. “True enough, I am a man and a knight now, but you have known me all of my life. I have not completely changed character because of such a trifling matter as squiredom.” He cleared his throat as his voice began to rise. “I needed no welcome party from my people, because I know you. All of you.” He looked to the smith in the crowd. “Kastan, you showed me how to work a forge because I was curious in my youth.” His eyes move to the chief shepherd, Evast. “Evast, did you not teach me of the ways of the livestock, so that I would not be trampled as I played with the other children of the village in my youth?”

He looked next to the Valiants, the guards of the Lord Mayor. “Kylin, you and your men gave me a great boon, teaching me the basics of swordplay. It has saved my life, recently, in fact.” He turned his eyes back to the crowd at large. “For all I have given you, and will give you in the future, you have given me so much more.” His eyes looked upward to the stars that began to twinkle in the night sky. “I do not want your praise.”

“I'm a simple man, in truth. I've had scrapes and scars and witnessed horrible exploitation of the common men of our fair Ruon. Just because I was born to my father does not automatically make me a better person than you. And in the coming months and years until I am capable of administering this township myself, I will need all of your help.” He turned back to the crowd. “But enough of this dour talk.”

He pointed behind him to Elsbet. “There is reason to celebrate, after all. The most beautiful woman in the land has come here. She will mother my children and be Matron to all of yours. A woman of greater nobility does not live in these lands, I say.” The deadpan crowd began to become lively once more. “She is more than enough reason to revel on this night!”

The crowd roared with approval as Marcus found his voice. “She honors me greatly by being my wife! As my mother honored my father by bearing my sister, my brothers and myself, she will honor me by bearing my sons and daughters!” He looked over his shoulder, seeing Elsbet blushing once more, biting her bottom lip. “We have trials in our future, true. But the women beside us make those trials worthwhile!”

The crowd grew louder than it had as Athos spoke, the men howling in approval and the women cheering the sign of respect to them. “Don't cheer for my glory and honor! Cheer for theirs! Cheer for hers!” He raised the goblet over his head. “To the women of Delrin! To Elsbet rin Marcus!” He poured the liquor into his mouth, drinking every remaining drop of it. After, he held the goblet upside down to the hollering crowd, showing no drops leaving it.

He looked from cheering face to cheering face, the fire painting his face in a warm light. Marcus took a step back and turned, heading back to his seat at the table. As he passed Athos, his father said in a low voice, “Coward.” Marcus only smiled at this and took his seat. Athos rose again, taking a knife from the tray of utensils in front of him. He walked to the roast boar sitting in front of Marcus and carved a piece for his son.

Tossing it onto a plate, the older man began carving more pieces, for Elsbet, Lana, Benas, and Harrid. After he'd finished cutting the shares for his family, he raised his arm, inviting the commoners to partake in the food on the master table. The throngs approached, the men of the households cutting the food, and the members of their families paying their respects to Marcus.

Marcus smiled and nodded to each kind word, saying nothing. He never craved the attention that the people threw upon him, but he had learned in his youth to endure it. He tore small chunks of the boar meat away from the large slab his father had provided him and ate them, though he was disinterested. He wanted sleep and rest.

A commotion in the rear of the grounds drew his attention. He heard fearful shrieks and high pitched cries. Without thinking, he leaped from his seat and rushed to the source. Elsbet followed him, worried about the sudden change in his demeanor. As he approached, he saw women standing behind their men in a tight circle.

Something small darted between the legs of the crowd, moving toward Marcus. He knew what it was, and bellowed, “Stand aside!” The crowd parted in an instant and Bartholomew, once again bloodied and wearing ragged clothes sprinted to him. He knelt next to the danura, anger in his eyes as he looked at the townsfolk.

“Thank you, Marcus,” Bartholomew said, drawing his attention. He looked down to his small friend, wheezing at his foot. “I was scouting and happened upon this party. I didn't know that they would react like this.”

“Quiet yourself, little one, and rest,” Marcus said. He looked back to the crowd. “Step away.” No one moved a muscle. “Now!” he shouted. They obeyed, seeing a side of Marcus they'd never seen before. He didn't care, though, turning his attention back to Bartholomew. “Are you injured badly, little one?”

Bartholomew gave him a toothy smile, his whiskers. “No, lassa. I'm well enough to leave here and never come again.” he looked over his small shoulder to the cowering crowd. “Superstitious basmas. I never thought that a people that could spawn you would be so cruel, lassa.”

“Pay no heed to that, Bartholomew. Run along to your new home, and never fear these people again. Rest and gather your family.” Marcus took his hand off the danura, not watching as he scampered into the night. “Now hear this,” he started. “If I ever hear word of the danura living on my land being harmed in the future, you will all answer for it. Return to your revelry.”

He stood and turned, catching a glimpse of Elsbet before Kylin stepped in front of her. “Did I just hear you, Lord Marcus? Did you just threaten your people over a handful of rats?” Her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. “Do you not know that defending danura is a crime, even for you, Lord Marcus?” she asked, her words acidic as always.

Marcus gritted his teeth and stared her down. “Return to your post, Valiant,” he said as he stepped past her. He hardly had time to react when she grabbed his arm and spun him around. He ripped his arm from her grasp, causing her to reactively punch him in the face, ripping his lower lip open with her studded leather glove. Her face lost its harsh expression, realizing what she'd done.

Kylin reached out her hand to comfort Marcus, but another's grabbed her wrist, wringing it. “What have you done, Kylin?” Athos asked, his voice heavy with unshaken anger.

“Forgive me, Lord Mayor. My body acted of its own accord,” she said.

“Father, this is nothing to-” Marcus started, his tone calmed a great deal.

Athos interrupted his son, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Silence, boy!” He looked to Marcus, pained. “Keep your tongue.” His eyes fell back to Kylin. “Is it your jealousy that drives you to hate my heir, you sycophantic harlot? Or is there another reason?” The townsfolk began to clear from the courtyard. Elsbet approached Marcus's side.

“I beg forgiveness, Lord Mayor,” Kylin whimpered.

Athos's rage only increased. “You will beg nothing!” With his free hand, he grabbed the embroidered patch with the Delrin coat of arms from the left side of her torso. “You are a Valiant no longer!” A sharp tear removed the patch and the fabric it was sown to. Her left breast exposed, Kylin attempt to cover up in modesty. Athos stopped her. “You embarrassed my son at a feast in his honor. You will walk to your bastard son's house as you are, whore. Begone from my sight.”

She could not speak, only nodding her head and turning limply to the town. Marcus stepped forward to calm his father. “Father, this is-.”

Athos's open hand struck him on the right cheek. “I said silence. She served me faithfully for the twenty-one years that I've been Lord Mayor of this town. And now she is cast out because of your vanity,” Athos said, still watching as Kylin left the grounds. “Do not forget this in all of your life, boy.”

Without looking at his son, he turned and walked back to the table, feeling the eyes of the remaining Valiants and townsmen on him. Marcus stood where he was, numb for the most part. He was shocked back to his senses as Elsbet's hand landed on his shoulder. He looked to her, exhaustion and sadness in his eyes.

Her hand on his shoulder fell to his hand, and she brought her other over, clasping his firmly. Sweet and soothing, she said, “Come, my husband.” She lead him, holding his hand in the cold night, to the garden, still lit by the oil lanterns that hung. When they reached the stone bench behind a pair of thick rose bushes, she sat him down and looked at the injury of his lip.

“Your father is quite angry, Marcus,” she said, holding his chin with one hand. Even with him sitting, she was only just taller than him standing at her full height. A small and delicate woman not suited for life so far from a city. The realization pained Marcus, but he said nothing, only holding his expression as it was. “It doesn't seem terrible.”

Marcus touched her hand and gently pushed it from his face. “It is no matter of concern for you, Elsbet. I can attend to it.”

She placed her hand on his should again, staring him in his blue eyes. “I'll not let you carry your burdens alone, Marcus. And you will allow me to tend to you when you are broken, in body and spirit. Do you understand?” she stated, not caring to hear a response. The small woman ripped a strip of cloth from the sleeve of her dress and pressed it to his lip.

Marcus was dumbfounded, but there was little he could say or do. He watched as this noble creature before him tended to his light wound as if he were her equal. He could not understand the rationale of it, but he could not deny her.

“The bleeding has stopped,” Elsbet said, dabbing at the blood on his chin. “You lip may be fat for a few days, but it should mend without a scar.” Marcus's hand shot out and pulled on the back of her neck, bringing her lips to his. After the shock faded from her, she returned his kiss, smiling when he released her. “I take that to mean that it is time we returned to our unfinished business, husband?” she asked, playfully giggling.

Marcus's expression didn't soften any. “I've done nothing to deserve an Eternal as you. How can one of your station so be enamored with a man like me?”

She knelt before him, resting on her knees and laying her cheek on his knees. “Who would you have me love? A Count? A Baron? A Prince? Since we met eight years ago, there has only ever been one man in my dreams. And his station only matters to me as much as it does to him.” She rose on her knees, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her ear to his heart.

He did nothing for a moment, then put one hand on the back of her head and the other between her shoulders. They stayed like that until the moon rose over the horizon near an hour later. Marcus finally spoke, his voice softer than she'd ever heard. “You must know by now that I am fragile of mind, Lady Elsbet. I can call forth calm and bravado, but I'm still a little boy beneath it.”

“Marcus, you are seventeen years old,” she said, pulling her head from his chest. “Were the Gate to the Southern Worlds not just beyond Surisholn, you would still be considered a boy. And I'm sixteen. I am a little girl anywhere else in the world. But here, we are expected to put on masks of maturity and confidence until we have those things in our natures.” She looked at him a moment longer before an odd expression crossed her face. “My legs seem to have fallen asleep.”

Marcus couldn't contain himself. He burst into a quiet fit of laughter. Elsbet loosed childish giggles with him. He'd finally eased into a better mood. Marcus stood, still laughing and pulling Elsbet to her feet. He leaned and swept her legs up with his lower arm, resting her thighs on his forearm and holding her by the opposite hip. Quieting himself, but still smiling, he carried her to the door of the manor.

Inside was lit be flickering oil lamps down the main hall. Marcus carried her to the end of the hall, not releasing her as he opened the door to their room and when inside. Then he stopped, looking over his shoulder. “You will sleep in the hall, Khreios.”

“Yes, master.” I returned to writing as the door closed.