Cal stood in church, flanked by his parents. They were talking to another family about a trade contract that had recently changed. Something about leather prices having gone up while twine prices went down. Hearing the topic, another family joined them, the open layout of the temple making it easy for them to walk right up. The second family had a boy his age, Hayden, but Hayden actually seemed interested in the discussion, interjecting a word or two when no adult was speaking, so Cal didn’t bother trying to strike up a separate, less mind-numbing chat. Instead, he just kept his eyes forward, nodding and smiling whenever it seemed appropriate.

It was for the best anyway, because behind his grinning mask Cal was desperately trying to figure out how he could get out of being taken to Kellingherth. After cheering Raff up with the run yesterday and being his inevitable slave for a few hours, Cal had slipped into a melancholy on his way home because there were no obvious alternatives--if there had been he wouldn’t have pinned his hopes on Trell in the first place. All he could come up with was a plan he had previously rejected: getting himself hurt in an accident.

It would be obvious this close to the Festival, and likely cast him and his family in a poor light for a time, but he was out of options.

Arriving at that conclusion this morning, Cal had tried to step in front of a cart on the way to church. However, much like when facing Trell’s fists, he had discovered that his body was completely adverse to putting itself in harm’s way, even with his mind flailing at it to do otherwise. The sad irony was that he wasn’t brave enough to take the coward’s way out. He wished he could use that fact to get out of recruitment, but they’d probably just earmark him as fodder if he did, which would lead him to an untimely demise even sooner.

Distractedly, Cal realized that an uncomfortable silence had fallen over the conversation between his parents and the other two families. He worried for a moment that he was the cause, but then his mother began apologizing, and Cal saw that her red cheeks were a shade brighter than usual. He didn’t even need to hear the details to know what had happened. Someone had said something wrong, and his mother had bluntly corrected them, as was the Caasish way. Cal’s father raised his hands in a practiced ‘you’ll just have to forgive us’ gesture, and if Cal hadn’t been so worried about the life he knew ending in two days, he would have felt his usual flush of embarrassment about his parents. It seemed like no matter how long they lived in Neden their tongues didn’t know the difference.

After a few more rather forced exchanges, the first family politely excused themselves, leading their two toddlers away and giving Cal a clearer view of the temple’s interior. Similar conversations were happening throughout the entire building, people moving from one gathering to another, or stopping when their paths crossed to start new dialogues. There was no sermon or mass led prayer here, like Cal’s parents told him happened in Caas. Instead, attending the Nedenian church to Silver was an opportunity to discuss your affairs and accomplishments, and in doing so hopefully, make connections to further those accomplishments or even pursue more ambitious deeds.

Sadly for Cal, no one in the small town of Resben was in the business of smuggling chosen to safety. Not that such a place existed--all the nations were crazy.

Cal’s eyes drifted to the grey-robed monks scattered around, many of whom sat behind lecterns on high chairs with piles of paper in front of them that they used to furiously copy down everything that was said. Younger monks ran to and fro, replenishing ink and parchment as needed, or stood in corners to make sure that no word that was spoken within the temple was unaccounted for--a practice that, despite growing up with, Cal found decidedly creepy. He supposed, in that way, he was just as bad as his parents.

Across the church, near a particularly busy looking monk, Cal spotted his friends Ned and Flance, each with their own families. Cal hadn’t gotten to talk with either of them about his encounter with Trell yesterday, and he was tempted to break away from his mother and father to do so now. There had been no word from Trell since the incident, or the council, or anyone else for that matter, all of which Cal took to be a good sign, but he still wanted to know why Flance had chosen yesterday of all days to join Raff on his runs.

Cal glanced at his parents, seeing his father stroking his golden beard as Hayden spoke excitedly about some sort of new thread--apparently his family were weavers.

“Mom, I’m going to--” Cal began, only noticing after he had started that she was distracted.

“Daina,” she said, looking past him, her expression full of gratitude. “Thank you again.”

Cal turned to see none other than Raff’s mother behind him with Raff in tow. Looking at her, there was no mistaking what she was. If the chainmail coif and hauberk she wore weren’t enough to make her role as sentinel obvious, then the unstrung longbow that poked over her left shoulder and the sizable sword at her waist certainly were. Not to mention the way she carried herself, like she could take on anything, which as far as Cal knew, she most certainly could.

Daina raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

“Letting Cal stay in Resben for the Festival,” Cal’s father said, looking just as appreciative as his wife.

Raff’s mother shrugged, the metal of her shirt clinking softly. “It’s tradition for chosen children of a sentinel to have their rebirth in the same city that she guards. Since Raff would be here anyway, it made sense to let Cal do the same. Fortunately, House Trent agreed.”

“The reason doesn’t matter,” Cal’s father continued, waving the comment away. “Join us for dinner, so we can thank you properly.”

Cal shook his head. Paying with food was another Caasish tradition that his parents couldn’t seem to shake. That one though, people often liked, probably due to how delicious the exotic dishes his mother prepared were.

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Daina said. “The council still isn’t in agreement with arrangements for the Festival since it will need to include an official ceremony of rebirth this year.”

“Of course,” Cal’s mother said. “I’ll send Cal over with some dalhsa tomorrow.”

Raff’s mother nodded at the gesture. “That would be nice.”

Part of Cal wanted to balk at being used so offhandedly as a pack mule, especially with how limited his remaining time was. A larger part of him though couldn’t help but imagine sneaking some of the savory potato and leek wrapped in mint leaf treats for himself. He was definitely going to miss his mother’s cooking.

“May I borrow him?” Daina asked, indicating Cal.

“Of course,” Cal’s mother repeated, though this time she hesitated ever so slightly before saying it.

Raff’s mother put her arm around Cal’s shoulder and led him away. Cal’s parents both gave him a quizzical look as he departed, and he did his best to appear perfectly innocent, even though he had a sinking feeling.

When the three of them were out of his parent’s line of sight, Cal shot a look at Raff, but his friend had his eyes on the ground, watching his feet. Cal groaned inwardly. He knew it had been too good to be true. They were about to get a tongue lashing, and from Raff’s mother that could peel your hide.

Raff’s mom led them to a secluded part of the building, away from the milling, talking people. There was a monk hovering not too far off, of course, but within the walls of the church, they were impossible to escape.

She dumped Cal and Raff into a corner and stood tall in front of them, hands on her hips.

“Are you planning on running away?” she asked Cal.

Cal blinked, surprised by the question. “What?”

“Not many try, but you wouldn’t be the first. Most are recovered in less than a week, but all are found in time, either by us or another nation. And trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to be in the second group.”

“No,” Cal said, and then, from her expression, realized he should clarify, “I’m not going to run.” That plan was so bad he’d never bothered considering it. He couldn’t outrun Raff, let alone his mother, and Cal had no skill in forest-craft. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’ve been moping around for the last few months,” she said, “and now Raff tells me that you’re refusing to talk about your upcoming training at Kellingherth.”

Cal looked at his friend again, feeling a bit betrayed but also glad that neither had pieced together his true plan. Raff continued to stare at the ground, though he did at least have the decency to shift awkwardly under Cal’s gaze.

“So,” Raff’s mother said, “if you’re not planning on running, does that mean you’re ready to accept your responsibility?”

That was the last thing Cal wanted to be asked right now, and the directness of it almost made him miss the way she emphasized ‘responsibility.’ She sounded...angry about it, which didn’t seem quite right to him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Raff looked up then, eyes a bit wide and shook his head quickly side-to-side.

“Trying to avoid the question?” she said.

“You just look like--” you’ve been crying, Cal would have said if it was some lass at the bar he was trying to comfort, but he couldn’t very well say that to Raff’s mom, a sentinel no less. “Like there might be something else on your mind.”

She considered him for a hard moment, a moment that made Cal wish he had just answered her and been done with it. When she eventually looked to the side, Cal breathed out in relief.

“With the Festival, you two will be men,” she started, “and men should learn from the failings of their elders.” Cal wasn’t sure what to make of that, but after taking a long breath of her own, she continued on. “Today, I received a message from Silver’s Palace that my husband is missing, along with a certain caretaker of linens. The news...disappointed me.” Raff’s mother turned back to Cal, and he could see more than disappointment behind her eyes--much more. “This is the natural course of things. Life does not always go the way we wish, and the sooner you learn that, the less disappointed you will be.”

Cal only half-heard the end of what she said because he had shifted to see his friend’s reaction. Raff was looking back at his feet again and there was nothing on his face to show that this was news to him. Cal did see his friend’s hand clench though, so tight his knuckles stood out.

“I’m ready,” Cal said, quietly.

“What?” Raff’s mother asked, and Raff glanced his way, too.

Cal struggled to repeat himself. What he had just let slip out went against everything he had planned, everything he wanted. But he couldn’t leave his stupid, ox-headed, tattle-telling friend right after his own father had. He just...couldn’t.

“I’m ready to accept my responsibility,” Cal said, feeling like he was sicking the words up.

Raff’s mom looked at him a moment longer as if she was deciding whether or not to make him say it a third time. “I’m glad to hear so,” she finally said. “Now stop pouting like children, both of you, and go enjoy what you do have.”

Cal and Raff shared a look and then dashed around her, nearly having escaped when they heard her speak again.

“And, boys,” Raff’s mother said, stopping them both in their tracks and causing them to turn around. She exhaled, and Cal saw her breath curl though the air, ghostly white like it was the middle of winter instead of nearly summer. “If either of you thinks you can ‘get away’ with anything else before the Festival, I won’t hesitate to turn you into a block of ice and leave it to Kellingherth to thaw you out. Do I make myself clear?”

Cal swallowed. In the past, Raff’s mother had used the spirit of the frost storm she carried in her throat to nip them or even put a chunk of ice around their feet if she wanted them to stay put for a while. However, he had only ever seen her use a full encasing once before, when she had caught a murderer passing through Resben. Something about the look in her red-tinged eyes though made Cal believe that she really, really meant it. He nodded his head vigorously, and Raff did the same.

She blew a gust of frigid air at them that stung Cal’s cheeks, and they both jumped, to which she smiled before stalking off, leaving them alone with the quietly scribbling monk.

“Seriously,” Cal said when she was out of earshot, “why is your mom so scary?”

Raff looked like he was going to tell him to shut it. “Because that’s what she’s supposed to be.” And then instead of staying with Cal, Raff took off after his mother, falling into step beside her when he caught up.

Cal sputtered in disbelief at the slight, looking at the monk who had been tracking the conversation for support and of course getting none. Cal had just agreed to throw his whole life away for his friend, and his return gift was what, swift abandonment? His thoughts soured further as he watched the pair walk past the oversized, seated statue of Lord Silver that dominated the center of the temple. From where Cal stood at the side of the church, he could see the sculpture’s profile, with it’s pointed chin, straight nose, and almost scowling brow.

Are you right with Silver? was a popular saying, since while Lord Silver didn’t get to choose which souls were allowed to slumber for blissful eternity in Lady Jade’s warm embrace, he did get to decide who was cast forever into the lonely night sky versus who was reforged by Lord Gold and given another chance at life.

Cal would have been just fine not being right with Silver if that meant he could live out his regular days in peace, but it seemed that wasn’t to be. At least there was a bit more fun to be had in Resben, just like Raff’s mom had said, and he most certainly wasn’t going to do that in church.

“I’m not yours yet!” Cal snapped at the statue and then as he passed the unhelpful monk, he tapped the top of the transcript they were keeping. “And be sure to tell him I said so.”