Miraric

26| Home of Resrei.

Their home was awfully silent tonight.

Normally, at a time like this, Jeril and Eris would be arguing over how Eris was slacking off while Edric was doing all the work and Edric would try his best to bring peace over two of them. If that wasn't the case, then three of them would be enjoying a warm dinner and talk about the next day and what to do and those were Edric's favourite nights -- sitting peacefully by Eris' side, her stealing foods from his plate while he'd pretend he didn't see her doing that, Jeril munching on his food quietly, complaining about the prices of potatoes -- all while Edric would smile -- content, happy and at peace.

But tonight was not that case.

Tonight was Edric's last night with them.

Edric walked up to Jeril's room, his feet coming to a halt when he saw Jeril's eye fixed outside the window, his back being faced by Edric. Edric's eyes roamed around his room, noting how nothing had changed at all -- things were as they were seven years ago -- Jeril still had all his swords lined on the wall, and Edric noticed the sword that was given to him when he first started to learn swordsmanship. That sword was there just beside one of Eris' first swords -- stuck on the wall parallel to her one. Jeril still had his bed right where it was seven years ago, opposite to the window, his clothes and towels hanging on a hook pressed into the wall.

Jeril's small table was still there, mostly unused and stacks of papers piled up. Edric's heart tightened when he saw one stack of papers and over it, on the title was the following: Resrei's Swordsmanship Progression. He still had it, on his table, his pupil's weaknesses and strengths documented in these papers and that very student was now leaving him heartbroken and betrayed.

Jeril sensed Edric's presence but he didn't turn around; so Edric approached him, standing behind him, his head shrunk low as he prepared himself to speak.

"I should have known," Jeril spoke first instead, his voice quiet, his hands folded behind. "I have seen the former king only twice in my life -- when he made public appearances. You have his face and eyes," he finally turned around, his short figure being towered by Edric's height as he continued looking down in shame. "I always knew there was something familiar about you."

"I'm sorry, master," Edric uttered, barely hearing his voice at all. "You gave me a home and I lied to you,"

"It's not your lies that hurt me, son," Jeril's eyes softened, the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes more prominent. "It is you thinking that I will abandon you and hate you that hurts me,"

"I am sorry," Edric said again, not looking at him. "I was scared. I was scared I would lose you and Eris," he told the truth and wanted to say more -- he wanted to say that he wasn't sacred of being homeless and starving to death, but he was scared of losing his family, he wanted to say that he wasn't scared of death but he was scared of his master not addressing him as his son -- but he didn't say it because he knew, if he were to speak more, he would end up in tears, again.

"That is not what a family does, son," It hurt more, Edric realised. The more gently Jeril talked to him, the more it hurt him and the more he felt guilty.

That was not how he'd envisioned this to go -- he'd expected him to yell at him, be angry at him, curse at him and then finally oust him out of their home. He didn't expect him to talk to him in the most gentle voice that he'd ever heard from a father, he didn't expect him to be more kind to him, he didn't expect him to call him son, he didn't expect him to do any of the things he was doing.