Chapter 91 - Birth of Legends

“Sorry lad, tavern’s closed until further notice. ‘Tis too late in the evening to go for a drink, in any case. Go on now, run home.”

The soldier placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder with a friendly smile, but he didn’t miss the subtle shift of the man’s stance as his other hand came to rest over the hilt the sword by his side. He was a good soldier, not letting down his guard even when facing just another unwashed, malodorous peasant. Such vigilance was not unexpected though.

That’s what he paid them for.

Leon looked down at the hand on his shoulder. “Armsman, remove your hand before your friends are forced to break it and whip you bloody for your insolence.”

The words were soft and low, inaudible except for the ears of the soldier before him. Still, the man jumped back as though he had seen a ghost. Finally, a flicker of recognition entered his eyes.

“Lord Leon? I- Is that you?” The man stared for a moment, his gaze moving down from Leon’s face to the rags he wore at the moment. Immediately, the man realized his mistake and knelt down, thumping the ground with his fist. “Beg your pardon, my lord. I- I didn’t recognize.. Ah, please, allow me to-”

Leon held up a tired hand. “That’s fine, just lead me to Tannos and tell Ambrose and Randolph where to find me.”

“My lord, the champion is still out with the searching parties. Please, follow me. The Captain and Sir Geraldus will be delighted.”

“I’m sure they’ll be. Lead the way, soldier.”

Leon followed the frazzled soldier until they arrived at the back courtyard of the Inn. Almost as soon as he set foot there, a loud thumping could be heard from one of the stalls. By the time they drew closer, the door to the stall flew open with a sound of splintered wood.

Tannos burst out of the stall and began to whinny loudly, lowering his head and nuzzling Leon’s chest. Leon patted the horse’s head and ran his hand along his neck.

“Hey there, old pal. Looks like they’ve taken decent care of you. Why are you still here though?”

“The cantankerous beast wouldn’t have it any other way, my lord,” came the hoarse, breathless voice of an old man from behind his back. “We tried to move it to the estate, but it kept breaking all the doors down and coming back to this place.”

Rapid shuffling steps followed up, and before Leon could even turn around, a cloak had been draped over his shoulders.

“My lord, it is this humble servant’s most heinous failure to see the exalted lineage of House Draxas reduced to wearing rags and traversing on foot through the dirt-ridden shanties of this village. Please, punish this useless old man as you see fit, but do allow me to at least see to your-”

Leon sighed through his nose, getting a headache already. The cloak was made of fine wool, but it was bulky enough that it interfered with his peripheral vision. Only when he finished turning around, did he see his seneschal, Geraldus du Fountaine.

As usual, the wiry old man was impeccably dressed, not even his wig out of place. Though it was well into the evening, his mustache and goatee looked freshly groomed and oiled, and the only element out of place was the flush on his pale, wrinkled cheeks as he began to fuss over his lord like a mother hen grooming her chick.

“.. Simply dreadful. My lord is even wearing riding boots within an establishment. Such breach of etiquette shall not stand. I shall send for my lord’s lounging boots at once, as well as the appropriate accouterments. Shall I draw the bath first, my lord? Or should I call the maids to see to your hair? Oh, and those nails, they would make the old masters, may the Goddess bless their memory, rise from their consecrated resting grounds and weep! Rose and myrrh, lavender and thyme perhaps-”

“Gerald.”

“Yes, my lord. May the lord impart his instructions to this humble servant, that I may-”

“No baths, just collect everything. We’re going to the estate.”

“Oh, such a course of action shows the breadth of your wisdom and the unparalleled magnanimity of your character, my lord. I shall tell the servants to pack with all due haste. We shall leave these vermin-infested shacks at once! May this servant perhaps suggest that..”

Leon suppressed a chuckle. He was surprised to find that he had actually missed the windy old bag. Perhaps having him constantly hovering around his personal space ever since he could remember was part of that. As he glanced sideways at his faithful head of staff, Leon couldn’t help but notice the impeccable positioning and distance his servant maintained as he turned around. Never presuming to stand in front of his lord nor invading his personal space, the good man nonetheless made certain to stand close enough that he could, in the event of an assassination attempt, leap forward and act as a human shield for his charge.

Leon paused his steps, one hand on Tannos’ neck, as he turned his gaze to really take a good look at the old man. Suddenly, other details began to leap at him. The heavy bags beneath the eyes, where a heavier than usual layer of powder hid them - no doubt from many a sleepless night. The extra paleness to his complexion, and additional pounds of shed weight that such a wiry old man could ill-afford to lose. Even the additional fussing over him was evidence of an excitement and liveliness seldom seen in the old coot.

“.. and we should most definitely hire the additional servant girls in order to accomodate for the extra massages the lord shall be requi-”

“Gerald.”

“My lord?”

“Thank you.”

A rare moment of silence ensued, after which tears began to slide down the old man’s cheeks in earnest.

“Oh, by the Goddess, it is even worse than I’d feared. Please, my lord, you must hang on to your sanity and will. Do not succumb to the fevers which afflict you. I shall call upon the healers at once. You are obviously delirious and on the verge of a complete and catastrophic breakdown. The full extent of my disgrace, how shall I atone for such crimes? My lord, this old servant shall..”

Thankfully, it was at this time that a full squad of soldiers approached from within the Inn. Leading them was a squarish, broad-shouldered man with a rich beard of gold covering several scars crisscrossing his face. He wore a full complement of armor and weapons, which included a chainmail hauberk, metal breastplate, pauldrons, greaves, gauntlets, and sword. He bore them all as easily as he would a second skin, and indeed, Captain Randolph Strachan would look out of place without his customary armor.

“My lord, Marquess Draxas! We’ve been scouring the woods for you for days, my lord!”

Leon raised an eyebrow at that. “And yet I see you have not seen fit to join such efforts yourself, captain.”

The hidden accusation did not break Strachan’s stride at all. He knelt heavily upon the ground. “Much as I wished to do so, my lord, I was compelled to command the search and rescue efforts from these field headquarters for the sake of finding you sooner. I stand ready to answer for such crass dereliction of my duties, my lord!”

“Don’t worry, captain. I’m confident we will see a full accounting in due time. For now, recall all your men and form an escort to the estate. I’ve been here for all of five minutes and I’m sick and tired of this place already.”

“As my lord commands.”

As the captain quickly issued commands, Leon drowned out the nonstop chatter from his seneschal and instead glanced toward the distant horizon, back in the direction he had come from. For one final time, he wondered if he had made the right decision. He had left the good company of a friend and the warm acceptance of his family. It would be easy to be lulled into complacency in such a place.

Would it be such a bad thing to live a simpler life, without the games of power and courtly intrigues of House Draxas? If it weren’t for the fact that he needed the power to help Skyle find a cure for the Shadowblight, he might have been truly tempted to stay. He might have even made a damn good turnip farmer and tamer of those filthy, overgrown cats.

Skyle needed him, however. Not only did he need to find a cure, he would also need all the help he could get from friends in high places in order to hide his Shadowblight until he was free of it.

Besides, Leon had the feeling that if he did not absolutely push his limits, he would be left far behind by his friend. He had grown complacent in these past few years. After being named the official heir, he had become lax and over-confident. It was no wonder an assassin had slipped through all his guards and managed to threaten his life. He might have even succeeded, had it not been for the timely intervention of Ambrose, his champion.

No, Leon decided as he led Tannos forward. He needed to be right here, where the fire was the fiercest and the blows the strongest. Only then would he be able to rise from the ashes and unleash his full potential.

He was reborn, not as Leon Draxas, fire summoner or heir of House Draxas. He was Leon, future God-Emperor of Solaria, ruler of the human realm, and most important of all, childhood friend to one Skyle Farrow, turnip farmer and cat tamer.

Now, that was a title worth fighting for.

“I see your friend decided to leave, after all.”

Skyle nodded from where he stood, tucked under the shadows of the low-hanging trees at the outskirts of town. Ash’s ears perked up at the unexpected voice, but then lay flat once more as he continued to nap at Skyle’s feet.

“So, how long are you going to stand there like a jilted lover for?”

“I was really hoping he would stay, da,” Skyle murmured.

“I know you did, son.”

Kendric Farrow walked forward right from the middle of the shadows lying behind Skyle with that insufferable nonchalance of his. Skyle had stopped wondering how his father did it when he had been certain that moments earlier the shadow had been completely empty. Not because he wasn’t curious, but simply because he couldn’t bear the smug grin on his father’s face every time he tried to find out and inevitably failed.

A rough, calloused hand landed upon Skyle’s shoulder.

“Son, this life ain’t for everybody. Especially not for the likes of him.”

A querulous fire flashed in Skyle’s eyes. “He ain’t like other pampered nobles, da!”

A soft laugh and a swift knuckle to the head wiped the outrage from Skyle’s face.

“Not what I meant, son. Most men, they must be pushed from behind, flogged and punished until failure is not an option. The rest must be baited from the front, dangling the treasure of their eyes right in front of their noses until they don’t rightly remember who or where they are anymore.”

“Which group does Leon fall into?” A slight crease wrinkled up his forehead again.

“Neither. He’s the rare breed that doesn’t respond to either punishment or reward.”

“Then how do you drive such men forward, da?”

A deep breath that stank faintly of old tobacco and herbs assaulted Skyle’s nose, making him scrunch up his face.

“Such men can’t be moved by external factors, son. They can be neither threatened or coaxed into action. The only thing you can do is light up a fire inside them. That’s how you move them. Such men can only be challenged or inspired, and such are the humble births of a legend.”

“So why can’t he find those things with us?”

Another knuckle to the head had Skyle scowling darkly as he rubbed at his skull.

“Stop whining like a little brat and start thinking.”

After a short pause, the glow of understanding slowly dawned upon Skyle's eyes.

“Because the fire’s already been lit.”

Kendric nodded, giving his son a proud pat on the back.

“That’s right. Your friend, he’s already been challenged and inspired, and there will be no stopping him now.”

“Huh? You mean because of Sanctuary?”

At least this time Skyle had the presence of mind to duck his head and dodge the incoming knuckle.

“Wait, wait. Let me think. You’re gonna knuckle all the good ideas out of my head, da. I’m telling ma, don’t think I won’t.”

Kendric smirked then, muttering something about not being to ruin something that was never there in the first place.

“Oh,” Skyle said, his mouth gaping open as his eyes widened in realization. “Surely not?”

“There’s a lesson for you, son. Easiest thing to miss sometimes is what is lying right in front of your nose.”

“He’s challenging himself to find a cure for my taint?”

“That’s part of it, and I’m sure that’s what he thinks too, at least on the surface.”

“Then?”

Kendric shrugged, laying his hands behind his head and leaning back against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“Da!”

An exaggerated snore was the only reply Skyle got.

Grumbling under his breath, Skyle thought furiously but could only arrive at the same ridiculous answer that he had already discarded before. There was nothing else.

“Easiest thing to miss is what is lying in front of my nose?”

Skyle gasped as realization struck him, but understanding still eluded him.

“But he’s a summoner of incredible power, stronger and faster than me by far, and he’s the heir of one of the largest Free Duchies!”

When Skyle blurted out what he thought was the least likely answer, Kendric quirked an eloquent eyebrow in his son’s direction.

“So?”

“So why would he feel challenged or inspired by a talentless freak of a farmboy who doesn’t have two coppers to rub together?”

“Because you’re my talentless freak, and you will one day shake out the heavens and rock the world-”

Skyle stared at his father, his jaw hanging open as his eyes flared out as wide as they could go. He was so stunned by this unexpected revelation from his father, that he made a perfect target for the knuckle that struck him up the side of his head. Skyle bent over with a yelp, kneeling while cursing and frantically rubbing at his burning skull.

“- is what you thought I’d say, didn’t you? Wake up and smell the flowers. It’s all thanks to the dedicated training your old man has put you through, and the hearty meals your mother has slaved in making to nourish those stumpy little limbs of yours.”

Skyle suddenly looked up, staring at his father.

“You mean to say I’m right? Leon felt challenged and inspired by me?”

Kendric rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t let it get to your head, boy. I could train Ash to read out the alphabet in less time than it took you, and he’d do it with a better accent, too.”

Ash let out a plaintive whine as he placed both paws over his ears. He clearly wanted no part in this argument.

“Then why didn’t he stay?”

Skyle knew how whiny he sounded, and he hated it, but he truly couldn’t understand and he still wasn’t able to get over his disappointment.

“Because this here is your home turf, you dolt. Your boy Leon, he knows himself far better than most boys his age, or even most grown men, for that matter. He’s watched you and realized that he would never be able to keep up, not here. For that, he’s willing to dive head-on back into the world of knives and assassins, and right into the middle of the games of kings and pawns.”

Skyle squinted at his father, lost in thought for a moment.

“You sound awful familiar with all that stuff, da. More so than the last batch of prunes you let go bad because you forgot to harvest them on season.”

“Reckon’ you’re right, son. I ain’t proud of it, though.”

After a moment of silence, Kendric craned his head toward his son.

“You’re not gonna ask about my past?”

“Not tonight, da. I’m busy.”

For once, it was Kendric’s turn to look stricken and off-balance.

“Instead, we need to talk about what we’re gonna do about this fire.”

“What fire?” Kendric repeated, still looking deflated over the fact that his own son could have so little interest in his father’s mysterious past.

“The one burning right here,” Skyle said, tapping a finger to his chest. “Can you keep up, old man?”

Kendric grunted at that.

"Matter of fact, boy, there's something your mother and I have been meaning to talk to you about."

Skyle couldn't help but groan.

"Another huge secret? Could we at least pace them out somewhat? How about one every two weeks, at the very least?"

"Don't cut yourself with your own tongue, boy." Kendric lifted his knuckle and Skyle recoiled in mock-horror, but after a moment Kendric lowered his hand and let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping forward.

"Uh, da?"

"Reckon, it's about time we stopped resisting the times."

"Huh?"

"Reckon, it's time your mother and I brush some of the rust off and set some matters straight."

"You're starting to scare me, da."

Kendric grinned at this, and Skyle thought that he had never realized just how much his father resembled his own snowblade tigers. Right now, he looked like nothing more than a born predator, thirsting for blood and closing in for the kill.

"You? Hah, wait till the world finds out. Be quaking in their boots and pissin' their pants."