Jergan and his companions were approaching the castle. Somehow he remembered Carell Keep to be bigger. But it had close to five years since he has been home, and in that time his spurt had happened and he finally began to gain height on Locke and Gor. Other than that, there was no difference from what he remembered when he last looked back on the way to the School. The Castle was it's own dark grey which Eliza remarked made it look quite uninviting. It was in the shape of a triangle with a tower at each end. Road that brought them here went past it and a smaller path led through the town to the gates. Atop the tower flew the Shield and the Hammer, swearing Carell Keep's loyalty to Blackfield.
The town had not changed much either. When he walked into the courtyard, Jergan saw many faces he knew as a child. Friends he had grown up with had become men and women and a few even had a child in their arms. He wanted to say hello, but he did not know if his father would approve of a graduate of the School of Chivalry fraternizing so freely with the common folk. Besides, many of them probably would not even recognize him. But he heard one voice that he did recognize.
"Jergan Fallaner!" approached his uncle Horace. Horace was built tall and fit like his brother, but his face was younger, brighter and less rigid.
"Uncle Horace!" Jergan exclaimed as they embraced.
They let go and uncle gave him a good slug on the shoulder, as he often did when he was a boy, "By Rannos you have been growing . You look strong, laddy!"
"Thank you, uncle! You look great too!"
"Oh, thanks Jerri. But sadly I think I'm beginning to grey. Just like your father," he said laughing. Jergan managed a smile but he did not laugh.
"You must be Horace Fallaner," Eliza approached along with their other friends.
"And who are you, my Lady," it was clear in his eyes that a lady in armor was not a common sight in Rushka.
"Elora, daughter of Markus of South Keep."
Horace's eyes widened, "You're the daughter of the Duke of Southkeep? Markus Eleanor?"
"I am, my Lord."
Horace went to his knee and presented himself properly, "Allow me to welcome you to Carell Keep, Lady Elora."
"Your kindness is most appreciated, Lord Horace."
"I'm no Lord, my Lady. I just look after my brother."
"Well, just to get the shock out of the way, Sir Horace," Gor stepped beside Elora, "I am Gor Velrock, son of Archduke Amos Velrock."
Horace laughed, "By the Gods, Jergan. Next you're gonna tell me that you're marrying Lord Dayvey's daughter!"
"That would be the Prince, uncle."
"Yes, but he has another," Horace winked to him and tapped his elbow on his waist, "And who are the rest of you fine fellows."
"I'm Bartheyis, of House Brunowil."
"Pleasure," Horace shook hands with all of them.
"Jon Maverick, of H-house..." Jon stuttered.
"Maverick?" Horace guessed with a smile.
"Yes," Jon turned red but Horace gave him a good laugh and patted him on the back. He then turned to the big knight standing last in line.
"I'm Locke, of House Horcaster," he said proudly as he stuck out his hand.
Horace did not shake, only looked at him with a glare that terrifyingly resembled his brother, "Horcaster," he said coldly as he spat at Locke's feet.
He left the knight bewildered and turned back to his nephew, "Your mother is very excited to see you. She sent me to find you."
"And what about father?" Jergan quickly asked.
Horace hesitated, "I'm sure he'll see you in good time. He is talking with the Prince right now."
"Oh," Jergan felt his guts rising in his body in anticipation, and now it must be prolonged, "Do you know when he will see me?"
"I don't know Jergan. But you two will have plenty of time together. He'll be going with the Prince to the Westland, and he said that ou will serve on his guard."
"I will?"
"Yes, you will. You're moving up in the world, my friend."
"What about you?"
"I'll be staying here and looking after the castle."
"Why doesn't father take you?"
"In case neither of you makes it back."
"Oh," Jergan understood, "I see."
"Hey, come now," Horace ruffled his hair as he did when Jergan was young, "Don't think about that. You're home! Enjoy it while you can."
"I'll try to, uncle," Jergan promised. He will not have much of an opportunity since they would be moving out tomorrow.
"Hey, does Jackle the Red still sing at the Iron Wall?"
"Sorry, little knight. He passed on last year. But his daughter, Jackie the Little Red is quite the singer herself."
"Oh, that's good," Jackie was a few years older than Jergan, but he remembers her father letting her pass time with him and his friends. One time they got caught in a farmers crops, but to not get them in trouble Jackie sang the farmer and his family a little song. He was so delighted that he let them go, in exchange for the promise to not let them trespass again. A week later, they were caught again and no song could quell Rengle's punishment.
"Hey, I'll take you and mother there after the feast. There will be plenty of people happy to see you."
"They... still remember me?"
"Remember you? My boy the town was never the same after you left. You were everyone's little rascal!"
Jergan felt some of his anxiety lift. He had always felt like a distant man, who would lurk in the corners of the feasts and festivals. Knowing he had the effect that his uncle describes brought a warmth to his heart and he finally felt at home. If only for the night.
Later he finally met his mother. She was slightly grayer than he remembered , but she had not lost an ounce of her energy for her son.
"Jergan!," she held him as if he had been away for ten years.
She then took his chin in her hand and looked over his face, "Oh, you're so grown up! You look so much like your father."
"It's been a few years, mother."
"A few years?" she said, and she threw her arms around him again, "It's been an eternity!"
"Careful, Jenni. You'll pop his head."
Jenni held him for what seemed like an hour before she let him go and he was able to breath again. Jergan looked back at his uncle and then to his friends, but they left him to his family. It was appropriate. At the School they had become his surrogate family, but now they were giving him back to his own blood.
"Come inside! Let us welcome you home. I had Mundy make your favorite pumpkin pie!"
"Really?" it had been so long since he had eaten that pie he forgot what it tasted like. That pie, along with his mother's stories kept him going through his illness. He really was home when he was at the table munching on a pie with his mother reading him stories and his father sitting high above the table, but it was one of the times where he would smile.
"Yes, he's been looking forward to cooking for you since you left."
"What about father?" Jergan asked, and his mothers bright smile dimmed. Jergan always asked his mother why father always seemed so unhappy. She assured that he was as happy as a smiling clam, but he was never good at showing it. It was difficult for Rengle growing up. He had to rule Rushka and raise his younger brother since he was thirteen years old. He never had a chance to learn ow to be happy. Jenni had to teach it to him when their marriage was commenced.
"He's talking with the Prince at the moment. He told me he'll meet you before the feast."
"Good. I hope I make him proud."
"Jergan," Jenni took him in her hands again, "I know he will be so proud of you," she promised as she gave him a kiss on the nose. Jergan wanted to believe his mother, but his father never respected a man in armor until he had bent his armor and bloodied his sword. A knight or soldier untested in battle was about as impressive to Rengle as a dancing peacock.
"I see," He replied, "How have you been mother?"
"Oh, things have been quite boring without you around. For both me and your father. Running a small hold like Rushka is quite boring. I've taken up sewing again. It's not much, but many Forthren Lords have asked me to make a scarf or a blanket for their wife or child. I even made one for Lord Yorod the Fourth when his son was born. You might have seen his wife carrying an infant in that blanket."
"You never mentioned this!"
"Oh, I did not feel that it was important," she humbly admitted, "But I do what I can for others. I helped design the funeral tapestry for poor Jackle the Red."
"Oh, Horace told me. He also said that we should stop at the Iron Wall to hear his daughter!"
Jenni smiled again, "I shall be our honor. Maybe your father will come with us this time."
"Rengle go to a tavern?" Horace exclaimed, "The sea will boil and the stars will fall before that happens."
Jergan and his mother entered Carell Keep together. After five years he was back in the house he had grown up in. It was more lit than he remembered. If there was one word that could sum up him memory of the keep it would shadows. Many, many shadows in the halls, just barely visible by dimming torches. He was surprised to see be able to see ten feet in front of him.
The way to Rengle's main hall was filled with servants showing Lords great and small to their rooms and to where they will meet for the feast. Jergan did not even notice them. They were going to meet his father and the walls and passages stretched for a hundred miles. And each step felt heavy, even with his mother's arm locked with his leading him.
"Has he changed at all, mother?"
"Not at all. He's the same man," she said cheerfully. That was the answer he did not want to hear.
The doors to the hall were before him. People were coming in and out, but not one of them was his father. They entered and Jergan saw the familiar sight of the four long tables that sat before the seat of House Fallaner. His father was not in his seat, but Jergan could see his dark form sitting atop it. Rengle was still nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he, mother?"
"He must still be with the Prince."
"I'll try to find him," Horace offered, but Jenni declined. It was best not to disturb Rengle when he was dealing with such important matters.
"He'll be out soon, I know it," Horace reassured him.
"I hope it will be soon," Jergan could hardly bear to wait. But as he was waiting, one of the cooks locked eyes with him and approached. I took him moment, but he soon recognized it as Mundy, who always made his favorite pies.
"Is this who I think it is?" the man said, his great smile folding his red cheeks.
"Good to see you, Mundy," Jergan said.
"My goodness, our young Lord has returned to us at last," they shook hands and Mundy bowed, "Lady Jenni had me prepare your favorite."
"Come, Mundy you'll spoil the surprise," she said and they all started laughing. After a few seconds, Mundy's face changed and he straightened up. His smile vanished and was replaced with a more composed look. He gave a small bow to an unseen person and returned to work. Jergan now felt a familiar feeling of hard eyes peering into the back of his skull.
"Jergan," the voice of Rengle Fallaner spoke. Jergan turned around to see the towering form of his father. His eyes were still hidden in the shadow of his brow. There was now smile, nor frown. Just a tiny slit of a mouth that Jergan could never read.
"Father," he smiled and stepped forward, presenting himself and what he had become at the School of Chivalry.
"You look well, son," he said, enthusiastically.
"Thank you, father. I have been working hard to earn my knighthood."
"You will truly earn your knighthood when you prove yourself in battle. In good time you will be able to do so. You will be marching with me when the morning comes. You will serve as my aide."
"As your aide?" Jergan asked. This would mean he would be separated from the Blackfield army and would not be able to march with his friends, but he was not about to say that to his father.
"Yes, you will take notes at war meetings, keep our tent tidy and manage my messages."
"Does not seem to be the work of a knight, father," Jergan blurted before he could think. The Rengle's brow tightened in the way Jergan had always dreaded seeing.
"You will have your chance to do 'knight's work'," his father said sternly, "But for now you will do what your family needs of you as is your duty."
Jergan broke eye contact and looked at the floor. His father had no cruel words, but how he spoke made the knight feel like a small child inside.
"I will father."
"I know you will," he said, "now I believe it is time for you three to take your seats," he said to the rest of the Fallaner family.
"Rengle," Jenni stepped forward and put her hand on Jergan's shoulder, "Your son just got back! You should spend more time with him.
"There will be plenty of time for that when we are on the march. You may feel the need to cuddle him at every turn, Jenni. But our son is a man now, and he does not need to hold hands anymore. Am I right, son?" Rengle asked.
"Yes, Father."
"Good. We'll talk later. For now, I have important guests and Yorod Dayvey to attend to."
Rengle turned and left, his black cloak floating behind and almost swiping Jergan away. the young knight, his mother and uncle all took their seats beside Rengle's chair. The Lord's family always sat to the left, whilst important guests sat to the right.
"He's not changed that much," Jergan stated.
"Oh, son," Jenni kissed him on the cheek.
"Jergan, I know him better than anyone," Horace said, "And I know that he loves you. He just never learned how to show it."
Judging just by his father's history, Jergan could understand why. Some of the older ones in and around Carell Keep described Rengle Fallaner as a quiet child who spent most of his time reading than playing. Always doing what his elders asked and never complaining about it. And then, when he was twelve years old, Horace was born, and their mother Helen died shortly after. Two months later, their father came down with sickness and passed away. And so the young Rengle Fallaner became the new Lord of Rushka. It was not a pleasant time in Carell Keep. It was only three years after the devestating Spartican Invasion and the country was still ary with devastation and bandits. He begged for help from larger houses, but they had their too many problems of their own to deal with the tiny village of Rushka. And so when he was fourteen, Rengle married the youngest daughter of Juracles Brittenford and got the extra men he needed to defend his lands. Within a year of their marriage, Jenni had given him a son.
It was about twenty minutes before Rengle returned with his guests. Jergan recognized the Prince and most of those with him by their sigils. All the servants in the dining hall stood at attention and bowed as the Prince entered. Most of the Lords took a seat at one of the four tables, but Rengle, Tauron, Lord Malken, Lord Yorod, and Lord Nicholi sat at the main table. Jergan had seen the Prince at a distance, but he had never stood this close to him. He tried hard not to shake in his boots. He had shaken hands with Lord Yorod before, but never had he spoken to anyone of the Royal Family.
"Prince Tauron. You've already met my wife and my brother Horace," Rengle spoke, "Allow to introduce my son, Jergan Fallaner."
"My Prince," Jergan bowed as he had seen the others.
"Honor to meet you, Jergan son of Rengle," the Prince said, "Please sit. Let us all eat so we can satisfy Lord Yorod."
"It's about time," Jergan's future Duke shouted. He glimpsed the Prince rolling his eyes as he sat down.
"Sir Jergan?" the Prince called. He was used to be called 'sir' just yet, "You'll be happy to know that I've allowed your father to take you under his command."
"I-I know, my Prince. He's told me already."
"Very good," Jergan could not really tell, but the Prince looked quite uninterested in this feast. He hardly touched his food, was mostly quiet unless someone asked him something, and he twirled a knife around in his hand as if he were bored. Jergan sought to enjoy this feast and enjoy home. He was most looking forward to the Iron Wall and seeing Jackie again. Just one more taste of paradise before going into the inferno.