Ashe and Aelfric

Aelfric impatiently rapped his walking cane against the cobblestone as he checked his pocket watch for what felt like the third time. He nodded politely to a passing coachman, craning his neck to get a better look at the fine, giggling ladies he ferried. There was not much to be found in this light forsaken corner of Briartach, save some tenements and a moderately lucrative fishing industry. Far from the glitz and glamor, hustle and bustle of the central hub; where his aunts eagerly awaited a long overdue visit from his mother. However, as she was wont to do, she insisted on being difficult. And quite late.

While a train or passage on a ship could have brought her to Briartach in a fraction of the time, his mother had insisted on travelling overland by carriage. Given his hometowns antagonistic relationship with neighboring Eastfaire, that meant a circuitous journey north several dozen miles to find suitable crossing over the tower rivers, rather than simply crossing the tower bridge that connected the towns.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, it was a particular warm Redsun afternoon, and his three-piece of forest green velvet coat and waistcoat over silver breeches was becoming rather unbearable. Just as he was seriously considering removing the jacket, a carriage arrived, pulled by a team of Buraq. They were strange creatures, white steeds with the bright colorful wings of a parrot. Oddly human features juxtaposed upon a decidedly equine skull and snout, and an intellect that could not be understated. Aelfric shuddered, he never liked the damned things, but they were a gift from a family friend, some elf named Donough; apparently, the leader of a small nation of Colby-Nau in Eurithania and leader of the cult of Enyo that had taken off in the past twenty or so years. Aelfric flagged down their Dullahan carriage man, Hewie, a man who if Alice was to be believed, had been with his family since his father was a boy. The footman,a kind hearted Ghillie Dhu, hopped down, to lower the steps and open the door. The old fey mountain man had been with the family for as long as Aelfric could remember, still dressed in leaves and birch bark, the smell of which awakened a strong sense of nostalgia in him.

Aelfric’s smile at seeing his mother for the first time in several years, quickly faltered. She was barefoot, and still wearing the voluminous and low-cut dresses popular in the Elysian speaking nations. Despite her title as Baroness and relation to the ruling family, she looked the part of a young aristocrat returning from an all night rager rather than a dignified noble.

His mother leapt from the carriage and wrapped him in an embrace, smothering him with kisses and getting his hair caught in her numerous piercings. After several moments, she held him at arm’s length, looking him over with a none too subtle frown. She had not aged a day in the twenty years he had been alive, and they could just as well be siblings or cousins at first glance, hardly mother and son.

Ashe suddenly flicked his earlobe with a disapproving glare. “Where’s yer earrings boy?”

Aelfric forced a smile and pulled his mother’s hand away from his face. “Earrings on men are generally viewed as a sign of delinquency in certain circles mother.”

“Bollox.” Ashe spat. “It’s a proud part o’ yer heritage, symbolizing ye’ve become a man and know how tae strike hot iron.”

Aelfric smiled politely and took his mother’s arm in his own, it was not an argument he wanted to have again. He motioned for the footman to follow with his mother's single, wheeled trunk, and lead them both down the stairs to the rail platform.

“Why do ye have that stick?” Ashe prodded at his cane, “Ye hurt?”

“No,” Aelfric replied, flustered by her ignorance, “Its fashion.”

Ashe’s attempt at a smile was more grimace as she gave him a patronizing pat on the arm. “So, how’s university?”

Aelfric shrugged. “It’s fine, I’ve been trying to catalogue the events of the war, but have been running into dead ends with the church. Even Auntie is tight lipped about it, which is strange, considering.”

Ashe smiled wanly and patted his shoulder. “We’ll she’s got a lot on her plate runnin’ a kingdom and all, and those are painful memories tae dredge up.”

An ascending chime sounded, followed by a woman’s voice through a system of speaking stones announcing the next inbound trains. His mother squeezed his arm and looked around in fear and amazement, as they exited the grimy staircase onto the crowded platform. The tunnels and rail foundations that criss crossed underneath the city and extended to several outlying towns had been in existence since before the collapse. It was only in the last fifteen years or so that engineers discovered a way to replicate the boxy carriages that had been buried therein, and only by accident did they discover that they moved via electric current. Now, the system was a vital part of city living, allowing those on the edges to commute to the city center in only a couple of hours instead of the half a day or greater journey by carriage. His mother was terrified of them, believing that the breath would be sucked from her lungs travelling so quickly.

“Why didn’t ye just take the horses?”

Aelfric gently guided his mother through the throng towards the platform. “Traffic would be mad mother, I mentioned it in my last letter, if I recall.”

Ashe sucked her teeth and pulled a folding fan from her sleeve. “I still daen’t trust ‘em. Speakin’ of…”

Aelfric rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh as his mother grinned toothily from behind her fan. The last time he was at their home in Westfaire, he had brought a young woman he had been dating, and one his mother was critical of to say the least. At the time, he was head over heels for her, a raven-haired beauty of the Leanan sídhe; a beautiful race of fey, with tendencies and traits more akin to that of a succubus. A lesson he learned far too late in the relationship.

“We’ve, moved on.”

The screech of wheels on iron and the blaring horn of the approaching train caused Ashe to jump with a startled squeak. The car, like much of the architecture in Aes Sidhe, was composed of organic curves reminiscent of vines and wind across the plains. The windows were tall, and the interior of wood and polished brass. A bevy of laborers in newsboy caps and trousers held up by suspenders piled onto the car, alongside men and women in suits and tailored dresses. Their footman stowed their luggage on the overhead racks as Aelfric secured a seat for his mother and himself.

During the two-hour commute, the train swelled and emptied several times, breaking from its subterranean rails to ride the elevated tracks and disgorge its passengers along the M-1, before submerging once again. At one point, a group of Colby-Nau youth dressed in open vests sans shirt or colorful gowns most Aes Sidheans would consider a night-dress, boarded the train to hawk “authentic” Colby-Nau jewelry. Despite complaining that the craftsmanship was shit, Ashe purchased several pieces.

“It’s nae their fault,” She placed a loupe to her eye and scrutinized one of the sapphires with growing displeasure, “They’ve naeone tae teach them the ways, most o’ this lot daen’t even know what clan they belong, daen’t wear their proper inks, dean’t wear the rings.”

“Oi!” Aelfric protested as his mother punched him in the shoulder. “I still have them.”

“Daen’t mean shit if ye daen’t wear it. It means somethin’, ye know?”

His mother had taught him to use the forge at a young age, and he had kept up with the skill until only recently. At Asketill, he more or less became the resident blacksmith, in addition to his studies. While he couldn’t craft arms and armor like his mother, whose maker's mark was known as far as Catharone, he could do the simple things. More recently, she had taken to forging cutlery and kitchenware, growing her brand and wealth even further, though by the looks of her, one would never tell. The townhouse in Westfaire was left as they had found it, and the country home had become her own private retreat, with only a minimal complement of staff. It was as if she did not care for the wealth or fame, merely, she wanted something to do with her time.

Aelfric often worried about his mother, she spent too much time alone for a woman of her apparent age and peerage. She was Baroness of Idir Aibhneacha, widow to a national hero, by all accounts she should be at the very heart of the social sphere. Yet, she languished in a country manse, making pots and pans. There was a sadness to her, a deep longing and festering regret that he dared not ask about. When he was younger, she would often tell tales of how she met his father, and would always break off mid-way in tears. It was a little-known fact that the elves take only one partner, once they have a child, they become bound eternally to that person. He had brought a would be suitor to his mother once, and he would never forget the look of disgust and anger she gave him. Everything he learned of his father came from his Aunts, and Sir Rémann, though it was likely most of his tales were more hyperbole than fact.

Aelfric wrapped his arm around his mother, who leaned against his shoulder with a barely concealed yawn.

* * *

Aelfric fought his way against the crowds, up the grand marble steps inlaid with gold and pearls of King’s Men station. They had arrived at the height of the noon rush, further complicated by the royal carriage parked in the plaza, further congesting the already crowded streets. Around them, great towers of stone and glass shot up to the heavens, floating orbs of light hovering over the roadways directed traffic, and a cacophony of dozens of clock towers rang out in unison.

The streets were alive with people of every stripe going about whatever task made up their mundane lives. On every corner, newsboys shouted out the headlines. Harried lords smoked pipes outside jam packed teahouses, merchants and traders bustled to their next engagement, a group of ladies behind their canvas’ painted the scene beneath the colossal monument to hero’s past; several statues arranged triumphantly upon a graded pedestal, among them was his grandfather Garrick. A school mum led her children toward the museum of antiquities, itself a garish recreation of architecture pre-collapse, full of sharp, cold edges and devoid of most of the outward ornamentation present in the rest of the city.

Enchanted mirrors, some the size of a train car, hung from the sides of buildings; they displayed all manner of information, from trade numbers and prices to incident reports across the city. The larger ones held moving images captured on memory stones. Mostly advertisements for attractions and events, sometimes news and weather reports; more rarely, they displayed important royal events, such as the Queen's marriage and the day of remembrance for those who had fallen in the War of the Dawn.

Aelfric led his awestruck mother by the hand to the awaiting carriage. Behind the forest of towers and spires, upon a sheer cliff in the breast of the city, stood the towers of Coheed and Cambria, the legislative heart of Briartach and all of Aes Sidhe. Just behind the hall, on an ancient fey mound in the middle of a lake where two rivers become one, was the palace, colloquially called The Quiet Storm, it was an imposing structure of heavy black stone. The palace was terraced upon the fey mound, oval in shape, like a teardrop. A dozen spires like needles scratched the sky and a keep like a perfect circle stood high in the center. Their journey up the winding road was relatively brisk, the way having been shut off by the royal guard and local constabulary.

They crossed the narrow bridge into the bridge castle, where they were ushered through to the palatial grounds; skillfully manicured shrubbery, flower gardens and fresh mown lawns along the driveway to the porte-cochère. A young boy of eight or so years greeted them, dressed in blue shorts and blazer with a red bow tie, he was far darker than the average Aes Sidhean, though not quite as dark as a Eurithanian. His hair, black and tightly curled, was shorn close to the head, and sharply edged with a razor. His hazel eyes were far too old for his youth, and his expression was rather severe.

Ashe leapt from the carriage and scooped the boy up in her arms and smothered him with sloppy kisses, eliciting a startled gasp from his nanny. The boy waved off his staff as they approached, straightening his coat and wiping his cheek on his sleeve.

Ashe put him down and held him at arm’s length to better get a look at him. “Ye’ve grown Kielan, or should I call ye lil’ Prince?”

Kielan blushed and looked away. “Kielan is fine Auntie. Mother has not returned from court, but I would be honored to entertain you until she returns.”

Ashe offered her hand to the young Prince and winked to her son. “Ye hear that Aelfy, he’s going tae entertain us.”

“Please, don’t call me that…”

There was a noticeable lack of metal fixtures in the foyer of the palace, everything was made of either stone, wood, or glass. At the joints of the vaulted ceiling, several lightning rods were placed equidistant.

Prince Kielan, accompanied by a small cadre of attendants, led his aunt and her son to a large parlor down the hall from the Queens cabinet, where she was presently entertaining her ministers. The interior was cavernous, all high arches and flamboyant stonework, merged with the asymmetry and plant motifs of traditional Aes Sidhean design. The parlor was furnished sparsely, a bar, tables, and high-backed chairs were arranged to entertain a sizable party. The walls were embellished with delicate wood carvings, statuary of nymphs, and scenes of frolicking fey.

The young prince wordlessly ordered one of his servants to the bar. “Would you care for a drink Cousin? Auntie?”

Aelfric Guided his mother to a chair opposite the Prince. “A nip of sherry would be lovely, thanks.”

“A couple finger’s o’ highland whiskey, that blasted contraption just about took me soul it did.” Ashe politely declined the servants offered cigar with a wave of her hand. “Trains ye call them? Rollin’ coffins more accurate.”

The young prince crossed his legs, his feet dangling a full foot above the ground. “I can’t say I’ve yet to ride the underground Auntie. Mother hardly gives me leave to explore beyond the palace grounds.”

Ashe did her best to hide her smile as the servants handed them their drinks, whiskey and wine for her and Aelfric, a tumbler of sparkling virgin cider for the little prince. The young man sipped his apple juice and cradled the cup in one hand as he regarded them, looking the part of a man three or four times his age. It took all of her restraint to keep from leaping up and pinching his chubby little cheeks. Aelfric cleared his throat and placed a restraining hand on his mother’s shoulder, sensing her intention.

“That should be changing soon, I hear your Grace is to be attending the Academy come the spring.” Aelfric drained his sherry and handed the empty vessel to an awaiting servant. “Do you know what you intend to study?”

“Elementals, like mother, though….” The prince turned his gaze towards the window. “I’d much rather continue studying the sword and be a knight like uncle was.”

Ashe winced and took a sip of her whiskey.

“Well, I am certain you can do both.” Aelfric said cautiously. “it is good for a crown prince to be well rounded after all.”

“I suppose you are right Cousin.” Kielan sighed, a hint of a pout upon his lips. “But enough of such dreary topics. How goes your travels?”

“Aye Aelfy,” Ashed eyed her son mischievously from the corner of her eye. “What have ye been doin’ this past year and a half?”

Aelfric cleared his throat, unsure of how much his mother had actually heard. “Well, I’ve been putting together a record of the war, trying to sift through the propaganda of The Order and publish the truth.”

The doors opened and Alice stormed in, lightening discharging from her to strike at the strategically placed at the entryway and in the coffered ceiling. Her gown, a mix of Aes Sidhean modesty in the high frilly neck, and marquez sensualism in the bare shoulders, was in somber black and grey. Homage to her mourning, though her husband was dead in name only, and her past as a mage. Beside her, Siegrun and Remann, now advisors, bore a hangdog expression as they scurried after her.

“I don’t care what they claim, I’ll not suffer invaders to come harass my people. Double the garrisons on our border with Arlien and send an envoy to Thiudoricus, I doubt they will be too keen to have The Order inquisition on their doorstep either.”

“They still operate churches on our soil, your grace.” Siegrun loosened her collar and shuffled through a stack of papers. “They technically do have the right to investigate heretics within our borders.”

Lightning leapt from Alice's fingertips as she pointed at Sigrun, arching back to strike a lightning rod. “Then get rid of the blasted churches, not like our people follow that backwards religion anyway, most of the fey still adhere to the old ways.”

“The alternative is war.” Remann stepped forward and cleared his throat. “While it is unlikely Marquez will side with The Order, we can not likely count them as an ally either, leaving us alone against Rhodarcium, Catharone, and Elysia.”

Alice held up her hand to silence Remann and turned a soft smile to Ashe. “Sister, it has been far too long!”

Ashe handed her empty glass to her son and stood to accept Alice’s embrace. “Nae too lang fer ye tae get so grown oon me.”

Ashe playfully pulled a wisp of silver hair Alice had attempted to hide behind her ear. Alice swatted her hand away and put it back, gesturing for Ashe to have a seat as Remann moved a chair for his queen to sit in.

“I apologize for the wait.” Alice held out her hand and Siegrun handed her a teacup on a saucer.

Ashe smiled and reached over to pat Kielan on the knee. “Oor lil’ prince kept us entertained dear, nae need tae trouble yerself.”

Aelfric offered a sheepish wave to Siegrun, his biological aunt, and Remann, her husband. They were also the Queens Chief Seneschal and Earl Marshal respectively. His aunts usual pallid expression lit up upon spotting her nephew and sister in-law, and she broke rank beside the queen to offer him an embrace. Alice watched with a disapproving glare as Remann hung his head, but neither said a word about her break in decorum.

Siegrun held Aelfric at arms length as she looked him over with a gentle smile. “It’s been far too long, nephew, you look well.”

Aelfric blushed and attempted to squirm away, well aware of the queen’s reproachful glare at being spoken over. “You as well, auntie.”

“Yes, well, while he may not show it, young Kielan was quite excited about your visit.” Alice reached across to playfully pinch the prince on the cheek. “You hardly slept a wink, you were so excited.”

“Mother, please, you embarrass me.”

Alice drew back with exaggerated hurt and outrage. “Embarrass you? You wound me child.”

“Ah! That reminds me,” Ashe held out her hand and snapped in the direction of her luggage. “Aelfy, go ‘n fetch the prince’s present from me trunk.”

Aelfric slipped from his aunt's grasp with a mumbled apology and hurried over to his mothers luggage. It was enchanted, and upon opening it he was met with many compartments and drawers, as if a walk in closet were concealed inside. Many of the drawers were labeled with elven runes or hidden behind hanging garments. He opened two, and was met with lace undergarments in one, and raw minerals in the other.

“Um...mother?”

“Use yer eyes nae yer mouth boy.” Ashe snapped at him.

Aelfric cursed under his breath and opened another drawer. While he could speak and read the elven language, the runes were a form of shorthand used only by smiths and merchants of Rhode, a code no longer in use, at least, not used in Aes Sidhe.

After opening several drawers and cabinets at random, he found a sword rack, with one slender package of silver with a green bow. “Ah, found it.”

Ashe held out her hand, beckoning her son to hand over the parcel. “Took ye lang enuff.”

His mother took the package with a reproachful glare, a criticism about honoring their ways on her tongue, one she tactfully withheld for later. With a bright smile, she handed the package over to the prince, and urged him to open it. The young prince tore open the package with an uncharacteristic look of glee. The weapon was a single bladed chopper, a short sword fit for one of his small size. The blade was like a gust of wind, the hilt an S, and the handle perfectly molded for his small hand.

The prince hefted the blade, and gave it a practice swing, creating a subtle whoosh sound as a small gust rippled across the room. Alice frowned and grabbed her son by the arm, preventing him from giving the weapon a second swing.

Alice drew back with a start, and turned a disapproving glare to Ashe. “Did you really gift my son a magic sword?”

Ashe nodded with a self satisfied grin. “Aye, some o’ me best work if I do say so. Was a bit tricky workin’ in the magic for such a tiny weapon, but it looks like it worked oot brilliant.”

“Did uncle fight with a blade like this?” Keilan asked innocently.

Alice glanced nervously at Ashe and gently pulled her son back. “No, but let's not trouble auntie with old stories, I’m sure her journey has left her tired.”

“Tis nae trouble.” Ashe said softly. “Yer uncle Aichlan, he di’nae fight with magic, though his blade was blessed by fey.”

Kielans eyes widened. “Do you still have it?”

Ashe cut her eyes to Aelfric, who coughed into his fist and looked away. “Aye, twas given to yer cousin here, who keeps it in a cupboard.”

“I wear it…” Aelfric protested. “I just forgot to bring it, and it's kept in a storage locker, not a cupboard.”

Alice frowned and clucked her tongue. “A storage locker is hardly a fitting place for such a treasure. If you don’t want it, we can have it stored here, where it will be properly appreciated and maintained.”

Aelfric flashed a polite smile before turning to scowl out the window. Despite never having even met his father, he felt a certain disdain for the man. Everyone around him saw fit to compare him, a scholar, to a dead knight. Even if he were a soldier and inclined to chase his fathers shadow, he would not use that blade. It represented everything he was not, an eternal comparison to someone he never knew.

“What kind of man was uncle?” Kielan pressed, oblivious to the mood his questioning had created.

Ashe leaned back with a long sigh. “well, I’ll need another drink fer that....”

“While I knew him only for a brief while, my brother…” Siegrun stroked Aelfric on the back as she passed, stopping before the window to bask in the warm light. “Aichlan was an asshole. Stubborn, bullheaded, convinced his way was the correct and only way, and if you disagreed you were an idiot and he was going to do it his way regardless.”

After several moments of tense and awkward silence, Ashe erupted into laughter, and Aelfric let out a held breath. His aunt was always a blunt woman, causing her fair of controversy as a result. She said nothing he had not heard before from his mother, the Queen however, she liked to keep Aichlan on a pedestal; immortalizing him as a faultless paragon in the same fashion as his grandfather. This in spite of his grandfather having a bastard child with a Rhodarcian, and his father carrying on an affair with the Priestess of the Order before meeting his mother.

“Well.” Alice smoothed her dress, her lips tightly pursed together. “That is certainly one way of viewing the man, one which I will attribute to some unresolved sibling rivalry…”

Siegrun winked at Aelfric, but fortunately remained silent.

“Let’s see here then,” Ashe gratefully took the offered whiskey and knocked it back. “Much ‘blidged lovely. Aichlan was a complicated man, conflicted even. But dedicated tae doing right by folk nae matter what, hence his stubbornness. Aye, he was rough around the edges at times, but he had a warm soul.”

Ashe’s eyes were wet, but she refused Aelfric’s offered handkerchief, choosing to sit in silence with her thoughts. His mother and father were not together long, and Aelfric had a difficult time conceptualizing it as anything other than a summer romance, but their love for one another ran deep.

After several moments, Remann approached the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey, and directed the servants to provide the same to the rest.

“I am certainly not one for the center stage, but I would be remiss if I did not capitalize on this moment. Friends and family gathered to share in the memory of a great hero, husband, brother, father.” Remann raised his glass in salute. “To the General, Baron Aichlan of Westfaire.”

Aelfric quickly downed his shot as shouts of “here, here!” filled the study. He shook his head, hoping to hide the stinging tears in his eyes beneath a guise of disliking hard liquor.