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By the time I step into Brightwick, I’m feeling better. The throbbing in my head has reduced to a dull ache behind my eyes and my stomach grumbles. As I step through the doors, I spy one servant and stop her with a wave of my hand.
“Excuse me, would you be able to take some fresh water for bathing and some breakfast to my quarters for me? Quickly, though, I’m due at training shortly, but I’m starving,” I request.
She looks a little taken aback to see me at the castle’s entrance this early, and I don’t blame her. I generally stay in my quarters unless on duty with the royal guard. She nods and hurries away.
I head down the stone halls toward the east wing where my chambers are located. The castle is still cool. A slight breeze carries the smell of breakfast through the corridor: bacon, fresh bread, and a hint of sweetness, which, I assume, is a dessert being started for the day. My stomach rumbles again.
As I turn the corner that leads to my chambers, knocks echo off the gray stone walls, and I find my father at my doors.
Great, just what I need this morning.
I continue forward, trying and failing to come up with some excuse as to why I am not in my quarters at this hour.
“General,” I shout from a few paces away. He stops mid-knock. Looking from side to side, he checks to see if there is someone else with me.
“Why are you not in your chambers?” he asks with narrowed eyes. I clench my jaw at his rough tone.
Why does it matter?I’m an adult and may come and go as I please.
But I know my father well enough to know that isn’t the correct answer.
“I had a few errands to handle before training this morning,” I reply, already wanting this conversation to be over.
His eyes are still narrow, telling me he doesn’t believe my excuse.
“What do you want, father? I need to get around,” I ask, stepping to my chamber doors to unlock them, forcing him to the side.
“I wanted to check in on how the new recruits were coming along,” he replies while scratching his palm.
What are you really here for?
I learned at an early age how to determine if my father is being deceitful, and scratching his palm is his unmistakable tell.
“They are coming along fine, General. Same as all the recruits before them under my watch. They are being well trained, and all weaknesses corrected,” I say, blocking my doorway to prevent him from entering.
His expression doesn’t change. In the years I have been the captain, our guard has increased in talent and skill. I have made it my mission to have the best royal guard in all of Omnia, and I won’t fail.
Before my father can respond, the servant girl and another arrive with my requests. He eyes them questioningly. I step aside, allowing them into my chambers, and thank them as they go. The girls hurry away as soon as their task is complete.
My father’s face is a scowl when I look back at him, and I’m pretty sure it stays that way permanently, or at least when he’s in my presence.
“If that will be all, General, I must be going now,” I say curtly.
I wait until I’m given the approval to leave, and he gives it with a nod, then walks away.
Finally, alone, I sit down at my oak desk with my breakfast to get some bearings on this day. I grab a pen and paper to make a few notes while last night’s memories, even though hazy, still linger in my mind.
I dig into the delicious breakfast of eggs, porridge with nuts, bacon, and bread. This is exactly what I need to help clear my head and restart this confusing day.
As I eat, I jot down everything I can remember. I recall having an ale with the men before Jonathan convinced us to go to The Blue Stag for a mug of their rumored chilled ale. Jonathan talked about a beautiful woman who would be working at the tavern. He described the disgusting things he was going to do to her, and I had to tell him to knock it off several times.
I know nothing beyond that. The entire evening is a mix of gray mist and shapeless dark shadows. I rub my temples, my headache returning from the concentration.
I head to my bathing chambers and strip off my filthy clothes before stepping into the filled tub. I make quick work of scrubbing clean with soap. The smell of cedar fills the air and makes me feel like myself again.
After drying off, I slip into the standard training uniform of undergarments, dark trousers, and a white shirt. Taking a seat on the bed, I pull on my boots, brush my fingers through my hair, still damp from my bath, and head out the door toward the training yard.
The grunts of my men filter toward me before I even open the yard doors, and my heart rate kicks up a beat. The thrill of training, of movement, causes my whole body to hum. As a child, I never expected to love being on the guard as much as I do. I hated it for a long time as it reminded me of my father, and I never wanted to be like him: cold and distant. But that is who he is. It wasn’t a result of his duty.
