427 Winters After The Fall

The sun had long ago set over the small farmhouse on the outskirts of the village of Shaya, and the normally clear sky was full of heavy clouds. The scent of rain permeated through the air. The small house was closed off and even the wooden shutters had been mounted, in expectation of the beginning of the yearly rainy season. Two men had hunkered down in the small living room, as close as can be to the crackling fireplace.

"Shouldn't be much longer now, eh?" said the older man, who was standing next to the fireplace. His hands were crossed, his left foot kicking against the stonework.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Well, if the child takes its sweet time like I did, it might be a bit more," replied the younger man, as he stole a glance at the stairs that lead up to the second floor. "And will you stop it with that infernal knack of yours, brother. You'll bring the whole house down the way you're kicking the hearthstones!"

His black-haired sibling immediately ceased and turned around, leaning his back on the nearby wall. His focus was now wholly directed at his younger brother.

"Aye, you did take your sweet little time, didn't you Mavry? Being on time never has been one of your strong suits, but at least it hasn't worsened with age," he said, as a single snicker escaped from his mouth. "I reckon it should all be fine, the midwife is experienced. Hell, if she wasn't, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing her all the way from the fiefdom's capital."

The two men stood still for a few moments, looking at each other, until Mavry finally let out a pent-up sigh. He shook his head, long strands of his blond hair flicking out of the way of his now-calmer face.

"I trust that you're right about that one Beram," said Mavry with a chuckle. "Do not be mistaken, I shall be eternally grateful that you took it upon yourself to bring this fine old lady. I didn't mean to say it in front of Lilia, but I don't think old gran Tora was up to the standards of the capital's healers. As good of a herbalist as she may be, a midwife that does not make her."

Beram curtly nodded and the two brothers went back to their silent contemplation, their gazes once again enthralled by the fire. A drizzle had started at the beginning of their conversation and it had now turned into a storm. The rain battered against the shutters and the ominous sound of thunder could be heard now and again.

Steps descended down the old creaky stairs and soon the midwife appeared.

"You may go up now. It was a long labor, but you have a strong woman," she said, and went towards the kitchen.

The brothers made haste and quickly climbed up to the room in question where Lilia was laying in bed with a small rose-cheeked child in her hands. Beram stopped at the room's entrance and gave way to his younger brother.

Mavry gazed upon his firstborn and only one thought permeated his mind. 'A son! Oh, what a joy, blessed be Pietra, a thousand times I thank you for this gift!'

The tired Lilia revelled in her husband's happy smile for a moment before she turned to face Beram.

"Will you do us the honor, godfather, to give your blessing before we name this little one?" she asked, as her eyes darted towards the purple robe he wore, its silvery threads glistening in the dim candlelight.

It only took Beram two full strides to come right next to the young wife and her newborn child. His right hand lifted up and his fingers traced the symbol of Saint Pietra above the child's head, an ethereal glow remaining in the air for a few moments afterwards.

"Nephew of mine, may you live in times of change and may the challenges you face bring glory to your name," he said as he placed his hand on the baby's forehead.

The baby looked at him with an almost feline-like curiosity.

And then it started to cry.