Dawn broke through the horizon, and the air was thick with fog. Lines of ridesmen stood in the courtyard, their plated armor gleaming. Quite the sight, were it not for the fact that all of them were shivering in place, cloud breath to the morning haze. It was freezing.

“...Hammerond!" called out Cetrik, at the front of the company.

“H-here my lord!" the ridesman echoed, from somewhere in the lines.

“Setryn!"

“Here!"

“Maksim!" 

“H-here!"

“Good! That's everyone then." The duke rolled up the piece of parchment. “Thibault, you will head north, to Aras-Kur. Meriadoc, take Guillemont with you to Helamor in the south. Commander Alizja will head for the Bay of Zis, to the west. I will go to Concord, in the east."

The named men thumped their chests and bowed their heads. Thibault bore a stone-faced look as always. Meriadoc had a smile on his lips. Meanwhile, Garek was left kicking dirt.

“What? Father I—"

“I'm sorry Garek, but while I am gone someone must keep the heartland safe." Cetrik pulled on the reins of his beast, turning about as it pawed the ground and began to trot on out towards the gates.

“You're leaving me here!?"

“I cannot leave the castle undefended. This is an important task Garek. I am trusting you with it." The duke's last words were final, it was clear when he took his helmet and slipped it on, looking out towards the fields.

Garek balled up his hands into fists, his head hanging low. 

'Damn it all, it's always like  this.' He thought, jaw clenching. 'It's like he doesn't trust me at all! I'm not a child anymore, for gods' sake.'

“Yes, father." He mutedly replied. 'I will keep your seat warm, you old fool.'

He could only watch in quiet desperation, and anger, as the honor guard marched on out on their beasts. He felt his chest tighten. How he longed to be there with them, to do something real, not here, not stuck in the comfortable recesses of the castle.

Garek huffed and turned on his heels, heading into the keep.

As he stomped through the hallways on his way to the throne room, he ran into his mother Ysvette, nearly crashing into her.

“Garek!"

Garek stumbled aside, barely missing her.

“Mother! I'm sorry, I didn't see you." He mumbled, taking another step off towards the throne room, only to feel her gentle hands grasping his arm.

“Garek, you've left a trail of mud on the carpets. I don't believe you're seeing anything right now. What's wrong?" Her voice was gentle, measured.

“It doesn't matter." He gritted his teeth. “I said I'm sorry."

“I'm not worried about that."

“Then what are you worried about!?"

Ysvette eyed him for a second, as she stepped on towards him, her palms cradling his cheeks and looking into his eyes.

“...You, dearest."

Garek faltered for a moment, his tense body suddenly going slack in his mother's touch. He closed his eyes.

“...Father left me behind. Again." He could barely force the words out of his mouth.

Ysvette gave him a sad smile.

“Come with me." Her hands left his cheeks, and took his own as she led him not into the throne room, but into one of his father's more private rooms. His study. 

Inside he saw a room to which he'd seldom been to. Only a handful of times in fact. The duke, when he was in his study, did often wish not to be disturbed. It was his sanctuary, and Garek knew this, for the last time he'd been inside, was years ago. Shelves full of books, a desk with scattered scrolls, letters and maps, trophies and treasures from his campaigns and adventures proudly on display all over the place. Garek knew his father often came here to contemplate decisions, or to take himself away from the constant stress that came with a position of power.

Then he was quickly reminded of how he had been denied the opportunity of gathering trophies and exhibition pieces of his own. Garek clenched his fists once more.

Ysvette closed the door behind them.

“Why did you bring me here?" Garek looked over his shoulder at his mother.

“To show you a few things." Ysvette circled around him, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently.

“His hoard?"

“Not exactly." She looked away from him, turning to one of the trophies displayed on one of the bookshelves. A dented helm, rusted with stains of blood.

“I know it is difficult for you to accept… the tasks with which your father has left you." She took the helm in hand.

“Tasks?!" He echoed, exasperated. “Chores! He leaves me chores to do! Like a child, mother! Like a damn child!"

“Taking care of the castle is a difficult task, Garek."

He clenched his teeth. “No it's— Damn it! His advisors are here, the damn steward takes care of that, there is nothing for me to protect it from! The war has not yet started, we are leagues away from the border with the Dominion, we're not even near the shorelines! What is there to take care of!?" 

He hadn't even noticed he'd been yelling. His mother simply stared at him.

“Garek. Your father loves you."

“He never shows it."

“This is the way he does."

Garek looked up at her, puzzled.

“Don't you see? You see but treasures and trophies— you see pride and glory, and no doubt think he does as well... But the reason he comes here isn't to be reminded of his victories, but of his loss." Ysvette looked up at her son, eyes moistened.

“What… Do you mean?"

“None of the things that he gained, he did so without painful retribution. When your father comes here, he sees all that he failed to protect. No victory comes without pain, and a hard-earned lesson, my son."

Ysvette settled the helmet down back in place, then reached out to Garek.

“He doesn't want to lose you."

“But what about Thibault? And Merry?"

“Thibault and Meriadoc stood with him at the end of his campaigns, he was forced to take them, but you were born in a time without strife. He wants a better life for you."

“So he does not think I could match their mettle, to be as brave and strong as they are, then." Garek pulled away from her.

“No, he doesn't want you to have to be."

“We are at war, mother, everyone knows it! It may not yet be time, but it will happen, and when it does, I want to be there! I want to leave my mark— to be worthy of the name Tarador! Not some mewling whelp, not the runt of the litter…!"

“Garek you don't know what you're talking about. You don't know how horrible war is— what it does to you! It twists, it corrupts, it breaks. And your father nearly broke once already. You are his favorite son, even if he does not say so."

“I am my own man, already!" Garek yelled.

Silence hung in the air.

“I… am my own man. Father already treats me like a child, do not treat me so as well." Quietly, he hung his head.

'I love them.' He thought. 'But their love suffocates me.'

“Garek…"

“I'm stifled. Every day. It's enough to drive one mad. What have I learned all I learned, for? What have I swung my sword all these years for? How many essays have I penned? Tell me mother, is it all for nothing? Am I to be a mere footnote in the history of our family? Shall I be no more than just a way to strengthen our political ties with other families? Marry up one of their girls? Be sent to a fiefdom far away and live quietly and happily?"

“...If it meant you would be safe."

“I'd rather die. I don't want to live a meaningless life. I have the blood of great men in me, their legacy to live up to, and you and father would want for me the best, but that best feels like ash in my mouth."

Ysvette looked at him quietly, clasping her hands together behind him.

“You wish to learn all the lessons then, and not be spared the pain. The loss. The ache."

“I do."

She blinked away a tear. She felt her heart ache, and her chest tighten, but she kept her sadness from showing.

“Your father would never allow you to take command of his troops."

“He won't."

“So what will you do, then?"

That was the question. What would he do?

Garek took a deep breath as he turned around, sitting down on one of the velvet couches. If his parents would not aid him in his search for… more, then what could he do? He'd never left the vicinity of the castle save for whenever he was taken to a hunt, or a bandit camp raid, and even then, that was usually within Tarador's regional borders. To speak of the rest of Valinor, well, he never even had the chance. 

Thinking well on it, he was incredibly sheltered.

Ysvette quietly kept her eyes on him.

“I will leave the castle." Even as Garek spoke those words he could feel every bit of fear and dread weigh down in his heart.

His mother showed the same fear, now.

“What?"

“I- I said…. I said I will leave the castle. I'll set out from Valinor itself." He stammered. Whatever fear he felt was far outweighed by the sense of self-righteousness and anger he still felt smoldering within his mind.

“Garek, no." Her voice cracked.

“Mother, I have to do this."

“Are you going to toss everything away? For this? For a chance at 'adventure'? Garek you don't even know what your objective is!"

“I know what it is I seek and I won't find it here! If I stay, I will never grow, I will never discover what potential I might've had, I won't ever feel I've earned something by my own hand, I will never carve out my own future. I will live an easy life but one I have not earned by right of effort, but by birth. Even peasants work themselves to the bone to earn what they own, am I to be any different?"

Garek scoffed, leaning back on the couch. His mother stared at him with a mix of worry and understanding.

Silence hung in the air.

“... You really are your father's son."

Garek looked at her quietly.

“But I cannot go against your father's wishes, you know this."

His gaze hardened, brow knitting closer.

“So then you'll deny me this."

His mother's countenance became stern.

“I would. On my own conscience as your mother and as your elder, I cannot sanction this course of action. You have but a feeling, but where are your plans, your objectives? I'd be signing away your life on a whim, Garek. If you wish to show your growth, then show it by following your father's wishes." Her expression did not waver for a moment, instead showing the very firmness and strength of character that had probably attracted his father to her.

But in this very moment all he could feel was quiet contempt and frustration. Garek huffed. Part of him wished to argue the point further but he knew it would be but wasted breath to do so any further. All he could do right now, was to take some time for himself to think things through. Brood, as it were.

He bowed his head as he stood up.

“As you say, mother." He muttered, unable to keep the venom from lacing his words, coming out a little more harsher than intended.

Ysvette's expression softened somewhat, but she said nothing as Garek left the room.

When her son had left the duke's studio, she turned around to see all that her husband had accomplished in his life thus far. No show piece was without stain, crack or dent.

“Ah, Cetrik…"

***

Gray clouds rolled lazily over the sky, the winds gently caressing the open fields outside the castle walls, the sun only a few hours from setting down once more. Winter in the south meant there were precious little hours of light during the day, and Valinor was indeed one of the imperial territories closest to the southern poles. There was a constant layer of frost and fog on the island, even during the warmer seasons of the year.

But the cold cleared minds better than the heat could, and right now, Garek needed to clear his thoughts, and put himself in order. 

He nocked another arrow on his bow and drew back the string. The muscles on his shoulders and back squeezed tight, his forearms and fingers worn with dull ache, though the familiar sensation was somewhat pleasant. He released the arrow with a twang of the bowstring.

A whistle, then a muted thunk on the target.

He reached for the quiver hanging on his hip to retrieve another arrow, only to realize he'd emptied it out by now.

About two dozen arrows laid embedded on the target, another dozen off the mark by a fair margin of a foot or two. He'd expected far more to have missed his target, especially at this distance of some two hundred paces. 

Resigned, he walked on over towards the target to retrieve his arrows, picking up the ones that had missed it along the way. Physical training had a way of soothing one's nerves and allowing one to think things through. It didn't change the fact that he still felt as though his father had snubbed him though, but he understood why.

As he reached the straw boss, which resembled more a pincushion than a proper target at this point, he closed his eyes and exhaled, his breath a white cloud, fading into the misty fog of the land. If he closed his eyes he could feel the gentle caresses of the southern winds on his face, chilling as they were, they carried the fresh scent of pine and earthy, wet moss. 

The scents and sounds soothed his mind, soon enough his thoughts began to fade from his mind.

Such inner peace was not meant to last, though. 

“... Garek?" A feminine voice inquired.

He opened his eyes slowly. That didn't sound like mother. 

“... Garek!" The voice called out once more, closer this time.

He looked out front, to his right, to his left. Nothing, but he could hear fast-approaching steps. The princeling took a step back, and found himself stumbling onto something as it bumped into his back.

“Wah!" The creature wailed as it crashed against him. He could barely feel it but it made him turn around. The creature, as it turned out, was just one of the local leps.

“Erys!" Garek immediately knelt down and offered her a hand, which she promptly took.

“Ow…! Y'know you could stand to be more attentive."

“I didn't think anyone else was around."

She rolled her big green eyes at him.

“I figured, I just didn't think you'd bump into me like that. What were you, uh, doin' out here?"

Garek looked at the arrows all around them. He scoffed.

“Just clearing my head, I guess. Why are you here, anyhow?" 

The brown lep folded her arms.

“What, are the castle grounds off-limits to the rest of the townsfolk now? I thought you weren't into the same kinda line of thinkin' as those other snobby nobles are." It was her turn to scoff, her small pink nose twitching.

“That's not it Erys, it's just— aren't you usually off working with your dad at this time? The forge is probably busy right now, isn't it?"

“Not really, the duke gave everyone a talking to about going to war with the Dominion and the Czarasekians, so everyone is kind of nervous. I just, um, well I came to see what was up? I didn't see you with the rest of them."

“Yeah, er, he told me to keep things in order here while he and the others raise the Taradorian army."

“So we really are going to war…" Erys's ears slumped down.

“Do you think my father speaks idle words?"

“No! No… It's just that… well, it doesn't seem real y'know?"

“Well, the emperor hasn't decided on a course of action, yet…" He trailed off.

Erys's looked up at him, somewhat hopeful.

“...But given the state of things it's really likely we will. Czarasekian independence is a delicate matter, but becoming an ally of the Dominion is an entirely different thing. It's all muddled up, and we don't really know what's going on, but if it turns out the Dominion had a hand in it, and knowing them, they probably did, then there's a chance they'd try to do something of the sort again to try and weaken us so…"

Erys shook her head, her big fluffy ears flopping about.

“Let's not talk about that. Can we uh, can we go for a walk or something? It's cold out here."

Garek nodded. He picked up the last few arrows, then waved her over as he led her away from the fields and into the wood. Curiously, and despite being a smooth-skinned human, Garek wasn't as bothered by the cold as Erys was, even when considering she was a southern lep and had pretty thick fur. 

“Why the forest?"

“I don't really want to be in the castle right now."

“Oh." She puckered her mouth as she quieted down.

A few yards into the forest and they came to a small clearing. There were a few fallen logs surrounding the remains of a bonfire. Immediately he set about looking for kindling and firewood, and in the ample dry underbrush surrounding them it was relatively easy to find it. Soon enough, Garek had a small fire going, using his knife and a piece of flint as a fire starter.

Both the blacksmith's daughter and the duke's son sat on the same log before the fire, keeping close with their hands out to warm themselves.

“I'm nervous, Garek."

“You think Cetrik would drag your father out to war? He's more useful here than he would be out in the front you know."

Erys nudges her feet together, though her expression relaxes somewhat.

“That's reassuring… but what about you?"

“What about me? You see me here, don't you? I've tried asking father to take me along with his campaigns. He won't have any of it. Doesn't want me getting hurt apparently."

“Well, that's good isn't it?" She leaned over, looking over at him. “Who'd want to go to war?"

Garek eyed her sternly. She recoiled a little bit.

“Garek?"

“I want to go."

Erys frowned, confused.

“Why?"

“You wouldn't get it." Garek scoffed, picking up a stick and jabbing the growing bonfire. “I need to experience it for myself, Erys. You see how everyone looks up to my father, the duke. That sort of admiration, of character… You develop it through war."

“I'm… not so sure about that. People respect my father, and he's never been a soldier."
“It's not the same."

“Why not?"

“Your father isn't the Duke of Tarador, Erys." He stated as-a-matter-of-factly. “It's a different kind of respect. Leadership. The experience and knowledge that comes with it. And… Well, it doesn't have to be war itself either, but… I need to get out of here. To travel the world, learn all that I can. All these heroes and legends, there's so much I've read about in my books…"

“So you wanna be like them?" Erys smiled a little as she scooted closer and giggled. “You haven't changed one bit, Garek."

“Don't laugh." He muttered, shaking his head.

“I'm not, I think it's cute!" Her smile grew into a buck-toothed grin. “And well, it's…" She looked away, looking down at the ground as she nudged her pawed feet together. “I think it's brave of you to keep chasing after your dreams. Sometimes I wish I could do something like that."

“Become a freeblade?" He asked, puzzled.

“No, leave town. You're not the only one with dreams of becoming more  than what you're given, Garek. And you've been blessed with so much by the Gods already…" She sighed, her ears drooping. 

Garek looked away from her, feeling a little bit guilty about talking to her about his issues when she had so much more to deal with. So much more difficult a life. Peasants had it rough, even those who were a little better off than most like her.

He flattened his lips, leaning on his knees as he hummed, thoughtful.

“...What if you had the chance to leave town, then?"

“I don't know. Maybe? But I don't really have the money for it. Plus, who'd help my dad if I left? He's not getting any younger… And who'd keep an eye on you if I left? Niks? He drags you into trouble more often than not." Erys chuckled lightly, also staring into the bonfire. She no longer shivered, the atmosphere around them feeling rather warm. “I want to travel, and… I want to learn how to forge more things, learn some techniques from other lands and bring them home, you know?"

Erys clasped her hands together, fiddling with her padded fingers.

“I know." Garek smiled.

They spent a minute in silence, their gazes never meeting, staring instead into the flickering fire. Erys draped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms. Garek, noticing her cold, unclasped the brooch holding his cloak together and took it off, wrapping it around her shoulders instead. Erys looked back at him, staring through her bangs.

“Won't you be cold?"

“I'm fine, I'm used to it." Garek chuckled lightly.

“Garek, you're not leaving… right?"

“..." 

He looked down, unable to look her in the eye. He'd been thinking about it. Really hard. It was a ride or die decision, if he took it. Either he managed to make it in the world on his own and made his own legend or he'd crash, burn, and possibly not even have a family to return to. His jaw clenched.

“Garek?" Erys called out to him again, putting her paw on his thigh.

“I'm not staying here forever, Erys."

“Oh… When… When are you leaving?" 

“I don't know," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Don't lie to me, we're friends!" Her voice wavered a little.

“Sorry."

“If you're sorry, then tell me, Garek." Her gaze bored into him, looking at him intently and leaning a little too close against him. Garek leaned back as she pressed forward.

“...The day after tomorrow, before first light." He could never hide anything from her for too long. She was too headstrong.

Erys relented, audibly exhaling as she straightened up, closing her eyes. Another minute in silence went by.

“I'm coming with you."

“What? No. No, it's too dangerous."

“That's exactly why I'm not letting you go out there on your own! A noble-born boy like you doesn't have the street smarts it takes to get through life as a commoner! When you leave, you won't be able to rely on your family."

“Erys I can take care of myself."

“I'm coming with you, Garek, and that's final."

The lep crossed her arms and legs, then scoffed, looking away from him. “I won't let you go out and let you do all that alone. We're friends. Besides, if I stick with you, I'll probably get to see a lot of smithies along the way, and someone needs to take care of your gear, bonehead."

Erys looked back at him and smiled, bumping him on the shoulder. Garek gave her a half-hearted smile. Well, it was probably better this way, after all having your friend tag along with you might've made things easier. He wondered if he should've broken the news to Niks as well. No doubt the fangbear would have ideas of his own about what would go down, but he doubted his family would forgive him if he dragged him out on an adventure as well.

“...Okay. Okay you can come. But no heroics, okay? That's my job." Garek grinned. “The day after tomorrow before first light then. Let's meet up outside the town, near the Old Maid tavern."

Erys nodded vigorously, ears perking up. Some adventure this was going to be, sneaking out of the castle and town.