Reign of Ruin

Prologue Pt. 1

In a village nestled outside of the wall Ana, Tomas climbed up the untrodden path with his sister Hera. She ogled the arching canopy with a grin spread across her rosy cheeks. In the expanse of green vegetation, he spied on the King's men who clamored through on horseback. The scabbards that hung against their hips sent an unspoken threat. His father's words of warning remained fresh in his mind, don't come back until sundown. It was time for the local villages to give the regent their weekly pence tax. The lords of the outskirts sent their vassals to torment the local villages every fortnight. Hera was too little to walk yet, and he let her chew on the grass dolls he made for her. When the sun sunk beyond the horizon, he would follow the battered road back. They were met with warm smiles and embraces but the bruises scattering his father's copper skin were always a reminder.

       "We can't keep doing this, Pat. The King has doubled the tax on bread, and he hasn't returned yet from his search. We should leave before it gets worse," His father, Erasmus, said to his mother Patra while Tomas lay next to Hera on a lump of straw beside the hearth. Tomas squeezed his eyes shut, his heart slamming against his ribs. His father's angry whispers scared him.

    "And go where Erasmus? We don't have the money, and Helvian raids are only increasing. It wouldn't be safe with two young children," Patra retorted calmly.

"Are we safe here? We're sitting here waiting to die unless we do something," Erasmus snapped, his voice loud enough to make Hera shift in her sleep. Tomas clutches at his belly as the ravenous beast called hunger roars in his empty stomach. They hadn't eaten in days. Hera began crying soon after because Patra couldn't produce enough milk for her to suckle. Tomas tried his best to soothe her through his hunger.

"Calm down. You're scaring them," Patra said softly. Her glossy eyes glanced at her children on their bed mat. Tomas rolled over and pretended he wasn't listening while Erasmus sat across her. His voice strained with the stress, and he said something that Tomas couldn't make out.

"It's okay. We'll be okay," Tomas murmured, taking Heras's small hand into his, but the cries didn't stop. Her flushed cheeks and swollen belly growled for food. He lifted her and cradled her to his chest and walked where his mother sat, his eyes red-rimmed.

"Ma Hera is hungry. She needs milk" His small voice pleading, Patra looked up from her hands. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt and tears because she couldn't bathe; none of them could. It's a luxury they can't afford, and his mother and father work relentlessly to afford their scraps.

"Take her back" she brushes him away, lowering his head. Tomas takes her lying back down on the uneven lump of straw. He is forced to Hera cry out until she falls asleep. Tomas's stomach was aching so bad he could hardly breathe, and Hera's whimpers grew louder. He rests his hand on her belly, her cries keeping him awake he remains beside her resting his eyes for a moment, hearing footsteps coming next to him. Tomas recognized the warmth of his mother when she lay beside him. Her thin fingers ran through his matted hair and gently worked her way through the knots.

"I wish the gods would take us from here," her voice soft. Fear wracked through him, and guilt formed a knot in his belly. If he went to heaven, he wouldn't grow up into a man. He would not be given a chance to show his mother that he could help her and Da. He felt her stroke his hair repeatedly until he fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, his sister was quiet.

Her cheeks were pale, now missing their usual warmth, and her whimpers had stopped. Her eyelids were glossed over, and she looked like she was asleep, except her skin appeared waxy. Tomas had seen death along the side roads where the poorest peasants gave up and waited to die. Their eyes bulged from their sockets, their faces twisted into a grimace. He'd seen the sickly peasants who died in their sleep. This was nothing like that because Hera appeared like she would open her eyes at any moment to smile at him. His chest ached with grief that gripped so tight he couldn't breathe. Tomas held her small cold hands to warm them and rocked her gently, so he didn't wake his mother.

     "It's okay, Hera...You'll be okay now," he murmured in the silence that engulfed him and the room's coldness that chilled his skin.

***

      Patra didn't utter a word when Erasmus laid Hera in the small grave without a headstone. She stood beside Tomas, but the distance felt like miles. Her grief had engulfed her; Tomas didn't know what to do except take her hand. Hera was wrapped in a white linen cloth. It was thin, and Tomas could see the outline of his sister's face when Da kissed her one last time. Erasmus was a man of little words, but it could not be mistaken that he loved his family. He was a veteran of the war, the ten years of war between Helvik and Largos. King Maximus had stopped King Gordon's attempt to conquer the capital of Largos, but it cost him his life. Erasmus's leg had been injured, and when he came back, he struggled to get work. He worked to the bone to earn the pence he had, and Ma was too weak to work because of the illness in her lungs.

"Ma, Da... I'll take care of you" Tomas's voice was small and determined, but his parents didn't seem to hear him through the sadness that swelled around them. It was the reality for the people at the bottom, he realized. Those who were caught between a rock and a hard place, those like them who had to watch their loved ones die.

"Largos is ruined" Erasmus's voice was raw. The back of Tomas's throat felt hot and swollen, making it difficult to breathe. He'd never seen Da cry before. Erasmus's shoulders shake in front of the small, smoothed grave. Ma's cold hands held Tomas in her thin arms close to her chest, where he could hear the faint sound of her heartbeat.

In the following time, Ma grew weaker, and Da grew weary, his dark eye encased in dark circles. His back grew more distant every day, even if they were in the same place. Da came home less and less, and when he did, he'd sit by the fire, his eyes distant Tomas wished to ask him what he was thinking. Ma laid in her cot all day, her cheeks sunken in, and Tomas's sat beside her. His stomach was burning for food. He would do whatever he could to help them.

He crawled from beside his Ma and snuck past Da, leaning against the wall. His face was still young, but his life had aged him. He wore a permanent frown. Tomas figured he was handsome once. His face didn't match his father's or his mother's. They both had brown hair and dark brown eyes, and so did Hera she was a mirror of his mother. His mass of curly crimson struck everyone by surprise, and his Ma made him wear a cloak whenever he left their home. They all said it was unsightly to see burning red hair on a peasant.

"Ma'" Tomas knelt beside her curled-up body next to the fire. The tunic wrapped around her hung loosely. Her skin was clinging to only bones. He looked out the window. The sun hadn't gone down yet. His father wouldn't be home for some time, and Tomas had already lost hope he'd bring home any food. Tomas ran his fingers through Patras's hair and kissed her cheek. She was still breathing ever so faintly. He leaned back, standing on weak legs.

"I'll be back home soon."