Jacob Gerhard woke to a pounding noise upon his door. He leaned up upon his elbows and glanced at the door, waiting for the fog of sleep to pass. Once he realized what the irritating sound was, he promptly returned his head to his pillow and pulled his blanket up over his head. He wasn’t in the mood to wake up just yet. He thought that he had won when the knocking had stopped, but a moment later he heard the door slam open and someone walk into the room.
“You think you’re fooling me? Get out of that bed or I’ll beat you out of it.” As she spoke, the serving woman walked over to the windows and threw the curtains covering them back. Light flooded into the room and Jacob, with a sigh, pulled the blanket down from his face.
“Noreen, is that necessary? I’m sort of tired. And why are you always so loud?”
The woman seemed unaffected by his words. “There are a lot of preparations to be done today if you’re to leave on time tomorrow. Foremost, we’ll need to get you and your clothes clean. Can’t have you traveling in dirty clothes.”
Jacob rolled his eyes and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up once more. He yawned and tried to rub some of the sleep from his eyes as he adjusted to the brightness of the room. By the looks of it, it was midmorning. He was curious as to how he had been able to sleep as long as he had, considering the activities of the coming days. His father had recently been having him awoken at sunrise so that he could aid in the courtly appearances of the family.
Jacob’s father, Adam Gerhard, was the current lord of
The golden age of Penrith Harbor, however, seemed to have come to an end shortly before the Wars of the Dragons. The city had mainly been torn down, the stone and lumber recycled into ships or sold to other villages. It was now no more than a small town with approximately two thousand inhabitants whose sole commodity was fish. The occasional ship was built, but it was usually nothing more than a longboat for some local lord who liked to play on the river. Gone were the massive galleons with their multiple sails waving in the wind or the shield-hulled war galleys with their bronze-plated prows.
Jacob stood and moved over to a nearby washing dish, splashing some water onto his long face and scruffy black hair as Noreen left the room with a large pile of clothes in her arms. She was always buzzing around making noise, it seemed to him, but he liked her all the same. Stretching his arms, he made his way over to the clothes cabinet and started going through it, trying to select something moderately appropriate for the occasion, for it was
Normally, Jacob would have found a plausible excuse and disappeared for the day. He didn’t have any patience for these kinds of events. Unfortunately, a few weeks previous, Jacob’s father Adam had sustained several wounds when his fishing boat – which he liked to travel on from time to time – was struck by a massive storm and completely destroyed. He had received a large gash across his left thigh, as well as numerous smaller wounds, but it was his leg that worried the doctors. After the ship had been destroyed, it had taken almost a day before Adam was found lying upon the beach, blood pouring from his wound. In that time, they said, it had grown gangrenous and threatened his life. They had completely removed the leg and had showed hope that he would have a full recovery. Last week, however, his fever had returned and the doctors couldn’t explain why. So it was that with a heavy heart, Jacob was forced into filling in for his father.
He was a tall individual and the serving folk within the manor always bemoaned the fact, for his clothes always required extra fitting. He didn’t see why it was his fault that he pants needed to be a little longer than normal, but he always seemed to get the blame. He managed, however, to find an ensemble that he believed fit well and looked good. It consisted of plain brown leather pants, a simple white cotton shirt and a light, knee-length forest green jacket. He threw on his old boots, slightly covered in mud, without thinking and walked toward the door.
He inhaled deeply as he exited the manor’s front door. Before him was the commons area and the townsfolk had been busy setting up for the celebration. In the far corner he spied a bright red, open-sided tent which hadn’t been there the day before. It was filled with long tables, stools and a bustle of people as they moved about to set the table for the Great Luncheon. The people seemed to be everywhere, some old and some young, but all as happy as could be. Jacob spied old Matan Fishbane, the ancient fisherman turned storyteller, weaving a tale for a group of young children. With a smile, Jacob moved closer to hear that it was about.
“…but they’d have none of it. A great huntin’ party formed up and moved through the high mountains, searchin’ for the lost men. They were in those mountains for over a year ‘fore they finally found it; or what was left. The men had been slashed and gashed, split, broken and eaten in two!” The old man threw his hands high in the air for dramatic effect, causing the children to scream. “Search for the killer they did, and found it they did. It was a large lizard, bigger than your father’s fishin’ boats it was and its anger was something terrible. It attacked the men and started once more its butcher’s work. But ‘fore it could eat ‘em all, Aidan Dragonbane buried his axe into its mighty neck and took its head clean off! The blood began to-”
“That’s more than enough, you old coot,” a man suddenly said, appearing over Matan’s shoulder. “Pod, Simon, let’s go. The rest of you kid run ‘long now. The story’s over.” With sighs of sadness the children slowly dispersed and Jacob was left along with the storyteller.
“You’re too old to be listenin’ to old Matan’s stories, boy. You’re what, goin’ on twenty one?” He began to struggle to his feet and Jacob helped him up as he spoke.
“Only twenty, Fishbane. What’re you doing telling those kids that story anyhow? You know you get yourself into trouble every time you start telling your dragon stories.”
“Oh, aye. But they’re good stories; you’ll ‘mit. You’ve heard ‘em often enough if memory serves.” He slapped Jacob on the back and looked about at the crowd that was starting to gather around the tables. “They’re too soft, boy. They may not like the fact that dragons once ate us men but they need to learn it was true. Their kids’ll grow up soft otherwise; a bunch o’ sissies. Well, I s’pose I should go find myself a seat. Looks like they’ll be bringin’ me food any time. G’bye boy.”
Jacob simply shook his head and chuckled as the old man walked off. He had wasted many days simply listening to and dreaming about Matan’s stories and wondering what it was like to live back in what he called “the glory days.” He had tried to find out a few times just how old Matan really was, but nobody seemed to know. The old man claimed to be as old as the dragons and as old as the sea and everyone simply seemed to accept that as the truth. As Jacob watched him walk over to the table he couldn’t help but notice how spry his motions were and how young he looked from behind. Old Matan would never die, Jacob decided.
He took another look around the green – seeing young men around his age helping erect another tent opposite the first and younger boys and girls playing with hoops and dolls – and glanced up at the manor’s top floor window. His father was up there and Jacob knew that he had moved his bed over to it so that he could watch the festivities. He loved the Founding Day celebrations so much Jacob was trying to complain as little as possible. He waved up to the window, hoping that his father saw him doing his duty.
He slowly turned and made his way toward the large tent. The sun had reached its zenith and Jacob was regretting wearing his coat as sweat began to form upon his brow. The majority of the members of the town was starting to gather under the tent and would soon require some sort of speak to start the festivities. Jacob had prepared a short, modest speak which recalled the glory days and spoke of a bright future for the little town. It was similar to the one his father always said, just slightly less eloquent. He was sure it would do the job well enough. Rather, he hoped it would do the job. He had found that, at times, these small-town folk liked things done a certain way; which made him slightly uneasy about the whole thing. With a deep breath, he made his way to the north end of the tent where a small dais had been raised. He waited for a few moments as the crowd noticed him and quieted down before starting his speech as a strange sense of nervousness settled upon him.
Without realizing it, the speech came to an end and the lunch feast began. It was as if time had simply skipped forward a bit, allowing him to skip his speech. As he stepped down from the dais, a few people slapped him on the back and told him he needed to calm down. Jacob wasn’t prone to bouts of nervousness and he mentally chided himself for it. What did you have to be embarrassed about in front of these people, whom he had known his entire life? With a shake of the head, he went to find his seat and enjoy some good food.
“You know, boy, I couldn’t hear your speech as you weren’t talkin’ loud enough.” Matan had decided that he was going to sit with Jacob in order to educate him in the ways of speech-giving. “The first thing you need to remember is that us old folk can’t hear so good. It’s better to shout than to sound like a little girl. Though I did see you’re face turn a pretty shade of pink. Don’t know why you were doin’ that, you’re smarter than most of these folks here.”
Jacob tried to ignore the old man as much as possible, mainly by distracting himself with large quantities of food and drink. Everyone else had seemed to either forget or accept it, yet Matan kept belaboring the fact. Finally, at his wit’s end, he quickly turned and stared at him. “Fishbane, will you just shut up?”
A wide smile spread across the man’s face and he started laughing. He slapped Jacob on the shoulder and said, “That’s what I’ve been waitin’ for. You’re soundin’ more like a man than a boy.” With what appeared to be an approving nod, Matan stood and departed, off to find someone else to heckle, Jacob was sure.
The rest of the day was rather long and arduous, as far as Jacob was concerned. He participated in the annual stone-throwing contest and watched as the town’s ladies displayed their new dresses. He helped judge the pie- and ham-eating contests, both of which made his stomach a little queasy. It seemed like the day was almost over before he finally found Kurt and Jesse.
“Some party you’re having here,” Jesse said as Jacob approached.
“Was the dress showing your idea, Gerhard?” Kurt asked in turn. “A grand idea, that. I saw quite a few dresses I’d live to see a bit closer up.”
Jesse gasped and dramatically turned to Kurt. “You, sir, are a pig. Besides, those girls wouldn’t have any time for you; they’d be too busy with me.”
“Right, they’d be busy teaching you how to knit and do up your hair.” Jesse lunged at Kurt, trying to grab him by the collar, but he had seen it coming. Jesse’s mother was a seamstress whose husband had died shortly after Jesse’s birth in a fishing accident – one of the most common causes of death in
While Jacob and Jesse were of the same age, Kurt was two years older. Unlike his two friends, however, his life was playing out in such a way as to be wholly unremarkable. Like the many others, Kurt had taken to the sea and, more specifically, to a fishing boat at an early age and had never looked back. He hadn’t married yet, but lived together in a small cottage surrounded by identical small cottages down near the harbor. He was perfectly fine with that, however, as he considered it his lot in life.
“Well I hope you liked it, anyway,” Jacob said. “I think the ladies wish to have another one this evening. I think I heard something about winter dresses this time.” The two friends moaned in unison.
“Winter dresses? They might as well wrap themselves in wool from head to toe for all that you can see.”
“Yeah. It just isn’t fair to us guys, you know? It’s inhuman or something.”
Jacob just chuckled at their antics and shook his head. He realized that the three of them still acted like children sometimes. For this he was very glad. Jesse saw him shaking his head, however, and slapped Kurt on the shoulder.
“Look at our lordling here, Kurt. He’s too high and noble to have such impure thoughts.” He cocked his head to the left and the pitch of his voice rose considerably. “’Leave such things to the rabble, says I. Let the peasants have their fun for my heart belongs to some courtly love.’”
Kurt took up the charade and began to prance in circles around Jacob, waving his hands at his sides. “However does he put up with lowborn such as us, Jess?”
As Kurt came around in front of him once more, Jacob gave him a good push, causing him to go sprawling across the ground. Jesse simply started laughing. “Just consider yourself honored to have known me, serf. Woe, if only there were more castles and real nobility in these parts…but I suppose you two with have to do.” With a smile, he nodded over toward the tent, still bustling with people. “Now how about we go get ourselves a drink?”
The two men seemed well in favor of that.
The sun was setting below the rolling western plains when the three decided they had had enough to drink. Kurt had already found it necessary to fall asleep with his face upon the table, while Jacob and Jesse had been more conservative in their intake.
“This did turn out to be a good day, though, all jokes aside,” Jesse said after an extended silence. Jacob’s eyes were rolling over the now darkening commons. Someone had started a large bonfire and other torches were being lit. The celebrations would most likely last long into the night if past events were any indication.
“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad. It’s a shame dad didn’t get to come down.”
“I’m sure he watched, though, knowin’ him. He will get better, you know. He’ll be down here next year and having all the more fun to compensate for missing this one.”
“You’re probably right. It’s just…I shouldn’t have to leave. Not now when he needs me.” He took a drink as his mind started traveling a more serious path. Jesse was always a good person to talk to, to confide in and it had always come easily to him.
“He’s sending you because you need to go. You know him better than me, but I know that he’s a smart man and he usually knows what needs doing. If you need to go to that wedding, then you should go. And like I said, he’ll be better in no time, anyway.”
“But why should I have to go? I don’t even know this Adia Gerhard. Besides, Reyna doesn’t even know I’m leaving and she won’t be back for another week. I can just see it now. ‘Sorry, miss, your betrothed left a few days ago without telling you about it. He sends his regrets.’ That will go over well.”
“Reyna’s as understanding as your father is sensible. She’ll understand. Besides, you’ll get to look forward to your return celebration.” Jesse winked at that and raised his glass.
“Yes, well…” He stood and past the tent and to the sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen, allowing the stars to twinkle beautifully. He smiled. “I should probably be heading in; they’ll want to ship me off as soon as possible. You take care of yourself, alright?”
Jesse nodded his head solemnly. “We’ll miss you around here but you’ll be back soon enough. Take care, yourself.” He lifted his glass in salute once more.
Jacob sat his half-empty mug and started making his way back across the green toward the house. His eyes widened in recollection and he looked back, pointing at Kurt. “And don’t forget to tell that lump there that I told him to get a real job.” We a smile from Jesse, Jacob returned home.
The interior of the manor verged on silence when compared to the festivities outside. Jacob’s feet seemed to drag behind him as he walked and he started to feel how tired he truly was. He made his way past the second floor, however, and up to the fourth where his father was abed. He tapped on the door lightly, not wishing to wake his father. He heard a small voice bid him entrance, though, so he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The sight and smell of the room seemed completely foreign to Jacob every time he entered, so different was the room’s current usage from its regular one. Where normally his father would sit for hours within the large red lacquered armchair by the window reading one of the many books that lined the walls, there was now a large wooden bed. All other furniture had been removed, except for the massive bookshelves, and replaced by various tables which held the doctor’s supplies. The smells of a thousand different herbs assailed him from the preparation table, which had a small stack of mortars and pestles upon its corner. A small end table stood near at his father’s side, from which various trails of smoke slithered their way into the air. The incense, Jacob thought, was the most ridiculous of all the doctor’s ideas, for he had never seen someone smell a flower and a cut suddenly heal, but he tried to keep quiet. He wasn’t a doctor, after all.
The worst sight of all, however, was his father himself. He was lying in bed with the sheets pulled up to his waist. The sheet outlined a thin, lanky body which was missing a leg; something that Adam Gerhard thought on constantly. He had lost considerable weight in the past week and his skin was dreadfully pail. His eyes, which he usually held closed, were a brilliant emerald and one of the last bastions of vitality in the poor man’s face. Jacob’s eyes were practically identical and, for some reason he couldn’t explain, he was glad to see that they hadn’t begun to fade. Matan had always said that the eyes were the gateway into the soul and if they begin to fade, death follows near. It was an uncomfortable thought and Jacob dismissed it as quickly as he could as he walked over to his father’s bedside.
“How was the celebration?” His voice, like his eyes, remained strong and actually seemed a bit odd coming from a man so visibly weak.
“It went well. The speech was definitely not the
“Well I would hope not. I can’t have you outclassing me, after all. Then they wouldn’t even need me anymore,” Adam said with a weak chuckle.
“Yeah, well I don’t think you have anything to dread. They weren’t chanting my name after I was done if that’s what you’ve been worrying about.”
“Bah. These town folk think the world of you. Just today I had a handful of visitors telling me what a good man you’re growing up to be. I hope you don’t mind if I took some of the credit for that. I think they’re going to miss you around while you’re gone.”
“And for the hundredth time, I’m telling you that I don’t want to go to the thing. It’s all the way up in Haden Hill, there’s no way anyone would expect us to attend.”
“Heh, my cousin would. It’s his girl being married, after all, and to a Faryden!”
“I don’t see what’s so great about these Farydens, anyway. So their family ruled Kyrithia before the Old Empire. So what? There hasn’t even been a throne to sit on for hundreds of years, you taught me the histories yourself. They hold prominence in Constagra and Haden Hill, that’s it.”
“And Constagra is still one of the largest cities in the West, controlling a good portion of the trade. A family doesn’t have to hold lordship to control a city. The Faryden family has the weight and history of their name to throw around. There are other reasons to marry beside love.”
“Well let’s hope so because I don’t know how pleased Reyna is going to be after this little trip of mine.”
“Don’t try to pull that on me, boy. I love that girl like a daughter and well I should, I’ve known her since she was born. You know that she’d want you to go, so don’t try to guilt me into anything.”
Jacob gave an audible sigh and rubbed his face with both hands. “I just don’t want to go, that’s all. Believe it or not, I sort of like it here.”
A little color was returning to Adam’s face, but it looked to be from anger and not health. “You don’t want to go? You don’t want to go? Do you think-”
Jacob jointed in and they finished the sentence together. “Do you think your grandfather wanted to leave his family and take lordship of this town?”
They stood there glaring at each other for a moment. Jacob’s grandfather, for whom he was named, had been a minor lord of some minor city further up the river. So his father told him, when he got word that Penrith Harbor was in turmoil after their lord died without an heir, he had left his family to manage the city while he traveled south to help the ailing town. It was one of Adam’s favorite stories of his father and he often used it to convince Jacob to do something.
“If it was simply a matter of you going or not because based on your preference, then you could stay. But it is not. You are the eldest son of a branch of the Gerhard family; a family who is being connected with the old, powerful House Faryden. It is the duty of your station and you will be attending the wedding, end of discussion.”
Jacob was surprised by the energy his father had summoned forth to give that speech. He had almost been able to forget he was ill for a few moments. Regardless of his physical state, however, Jacob managed very well to be angry. He stood there a moment, just looking at his father before sticking out his lower jaw and nodding slightly.
“Very well. Good night, father.” He promptly turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he did so.
As Jacob threw off his shirt and eased himself down into his bed, the pale blue light of the moon streamed in from his still-open window. He rolled over, putting his back to the light as he thought about the conversation he had just had. He played it through his head a dozen times, thinking of something he should have said or something he should have refrained from saying there.
Fatigue began to win the battle, however, and Jacob resigned himself to his fate. Not bothering to pull the blanket up over him, he simply spread his arms and legs and let sleep take him.
He was going to need his rest, after all. It was going to be a long trip.
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