Under The Oak Tree: Let's Begin

Let's Begin

Few months after Maximilian Calypse left to the World Tower.

Riftan scrutinized his reflection in the mirror. He looked like on a battlefield, with dark shadows cast beneath hollowed-out eyes, emaciated face, scruffy hair, and a haggard body. He couldn't stand being idle, much less sleeping properly. He'd think of her next to him as he stood still. He'd imagine her sleeping in his arms as he lay on the bed. Therefore, he faithfully performed his responsibilities. Oversaw the port, patrolled the castle, guarded the mountain, subdued the monsters, and trained the knights and apprentices: he did it all. He worked his fingers to the bone to distract himself from thinking about her.

And yet every night he lay down, the desperate wish to forget about her crumbled like sand. The fluffy hair like a red cloud, the grey eyes like winter shades, the freckles like golden dust, the ivory mellow skin like melted butter in summer, the soft voice like a sweet melody, the delicate nature like a lovely flower: he remembered every single thing.

He missed her, terribly. Despite the fact that she had been gone for a month, her warm and sweet scent lingered in that room as if she had always been there. Riftan gasped for breath as he walked out the door. The longer he stayed, the worse his pain became. Sometimes it was mild, but most of the time the pain was severe. He didn't know what else to do, so he strode down the dimly lit corridor to his office. Yet there was nowhere he could go that didn't remind him of her.

That was where he said his parting words, saying things he didn't mean. Too afraid of ending up miserable like his mother, he ended up hurting her.

If you are born like waste for the ground, you have to live your life looking only at the ground. Looking up will make you nothing but wretched.

His stepfather's words that were long forgotten haunted him again. He was willing to lift his head from the ground for her. The castle wall he built, the barrier he erected, the road he constructed, the port he established; it was all for her. He wanted her to believe that marrying him was better than marrying any other nobility or royalty.

Sadly, the efforts were not enough.

After converting the barren terrain into a habitable environment, spending plenty of funds turning half-ruined land into a new town, it was still not enough.

The horrors of the past coincided one after another in his mind. Every time he remembered her bleeding and crying in that shitty room, he wanted to beat the Duke to a pulp and rip him apart. He wanted him to suffer as much as he had done to her, but a thousand times more. Why was her skin carved with scars that someone else deserved? Riftan clenched his fist, spatting profanity under his breath.

What else can I do?

He stood at the window with a glass of wine in hand. It was nearly midnight. Glowing in yellowy white, the moon loomed large, surrounded by millions of twinkling stars under the black to navy gradient sky. There wasn't a single soul in sight, nor a single sound to be heard. Despite the enchanting night's serenity, only sadness and regret filled his heart uncontrollably.

He swallowed the last drop of wine and flopped down on the velvet chair. A lump formed in his throat when he slowly reached for the blue fabric draped across the cushion. Tears flowed down over the cape that was clutched in his hands, as his heart finally succumbed to the terrible pain.

It still smelled like her.

**********

Merchants and their carts from all across the nation were crammed into the bustling streets. Textiles, herbs, spices, jewels, leather goods, fine wine, and other items were piled high in the lined-up wagons on the roads. The sellers were enticing the buyers to purchase their goods, while the buyers were trying to haggle the price to their benefit. The sounds of their deals were mingled with the laughing of the children running around and the rattling of wagons' wheels being pulled by horses and donkeys.