Token of Loyalty

Chapter Five

"History does not repeat itself. Fate is an illusion that binds men to their misery," he argued, stating the same old to Hrafn. Sindri, like many in Gharash, held a distorted view of fate. It wasn't meant to bring woe.

"You have fate wrong, dear Sindri." Hrafn wrapped his arm around Sindri's, pulling him up to his side. Hrafn leaned into Sindri the closer they drew to the feast hall. "One day, I believe all Gharashians will see the inner workings in their lives and heed them. Peace comes with understanding and understanding brings empathy. It is something we need more of in Gharash."

Sindri scoffed, drawing the attention of their guards around them. "It is those beliefs that poison Gharashian and Tarynian minds alike. You should keep these revelations to yourself, for not a single soul in Gharash will ever understand."

"Perhaps or perhaps our people have been deprived of the gifts our world has given us. Everything speaks to us, it is up to us to be receptive to it."

Their hushed disagreement drew a glimpse or two from Erlendr then Rein on their left. Sindri flashed a hard look at them, telling them off for their eavesdropping. Neither man looked their way again as they continued to walk. Hrafn glanced up to Sindri when his gaze fell to him once more. Sindri's eyes softened a smidge, staring in admiration of his partner.

"You are a gift yourself, Hrafn. You shouldn't seek to change those around you to fit standards you are used to," he stated, meaning every word. His mind was unchanging. "We are all different. It is with this difference that Gharash has been able to thrive. If we all limited ourselves to the supposed inner workings of fate, then we would never accomplish anything of substance."

Hrafn sighed beneath his breath before he managed a humble nod. He understood, even if he wanted to debate Sindri, to fight to the death on this subject, but he couldn't force it. Sindri would see, all would see in due time. Soon their choices would converge at one point in time and fate would have its day.

Nothing came without repercussions.

A few moments later, Sindri and Ta'lat parted ways with Hrafn, Erlendr, and Rein. Sindri headed to speak with Hyacinth in a more private setting prior to the gathering. Hrafn watched Sindri disappear from his sight before he joined the feast, searching for the token promised to them. His gaze danced from the dangling banners on the rafters to the scarce nobility. With little details to go on, he found himself hovering in the doorway, hoping he'd find a clue.

The letter Hyacinth had given them had stated only that the token was going to be someone of utmost importance, an entrusted member of the Ámarent family. Hrafn guessed it had to be an elder official who worked for the family. He couldn't name one off the top of his head, but he knew the Ámarent house had four existing members: Hyacinth, Hector, Eleanora, and Calanthe. Hrafn was familiar with them through tall tales only. Hector threw stones at peasants and mocked the misery of others. Eleanora turned a blind eye to cruelty and kept herself indifferent to the atrocities of her brother and mother. Calanthe...

Now that Hrafn thought of it, he knew nothing of the late prince of Eglantine. He'd not so much as heard a faint whisper about Calanthe, not since Sindri had disclosed what had happened to the boy's parents. Sindri had once known Calista and Darmond and been in the process of allying with them when the tragic accident had occurred seventeen years ago. It was a miracle the boy, Calanthe, had survived. The bashed in carriage had been found wrecked amongst the harrowing woods of Solveig, missing its horse and driver. Calista died with Calanthe cradled against her body, tucked in a pocket of safety between her chest and the forest floor. Her blood drenched his baby blanket and had been near to dry when they had discovered them.

Many believed that their deaths were to be blamed on the mercenaries of Reigar while others considered it a dreadful accident. Hrafn knew not the truth, his time in Gharash hadn't come until a year after, by then the incident wasn't fresh and had dwindled to only tavern talk.