Knightingale [THE FIRST DRAFT.]

CHAPTER TWO

"Wailing women and eager exclamations."

[ THIS BOOK is available illustrated on my KOFI @/2ndstarart ]

The upstairs of the bakery was something more akin to the homes around the village. A structure of almost entirely pine wood, its walls were drafty and often plugged up with old bits of cloth in the winter. The stairs led to a room not much larger than the bakery downstairs, in which two beds lay across the room from one another; one bed neat and tidy, not a wrinkle in the sheets and a plumped pillow, whilst the other... I'm unsure even where the pillow was at that moment. There's no guessing which bed belonged to whom.

The siblings were quite lucky, truly. They used to share a bed, even after their parent's passing, but Edie had caught the affections of the carpenter's son about a year back, and she'd gifted Mallory one of the many beds he made her - beds were his speciality, apparently. She had strict instructions for it to be her bed, and not Adric's, but with Mallory the way she was, she thought it was only right for her little brother to get the nice bed; if only Edie saw how he treated it now.

Adric appeared first in this room, rolling his eyes at his sister's pushiness. Once he reached the top of the staircase, he didn't wait to look around before turning left and heading straight on through to the washroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Washroom" was perhaps quite a poor description of what was essentially a bucket and a basin. Adric kicked the bucket carefully to the opposite side of the room, glad it was empty, before pulling the cloth from his shoulder and drowning it in the cold water of the wash basin - which was essentially a larger bucket on a wooden block.

The crude headband was not holding much back now, as his dark hair toppled over his face as he bent over the water, the long strands getting soaked as he brought the wet cloth to his face. For a boy who had lived in a bakery for his entire life, he still didn't grasp the concept of what happens when you add water to flour. The powder became globby and slime-like to which he continued to rub at his now reddening skin, hoping brute force would fix it.

The kingdom of Eyocahn was lively at night, with people dancing in the streets and music playing to celebrate their birdkind and the queen they lost so long ago, unfortunately, this night it was not of joy. Whilst the young boy grunted inside the small room, a weeping swept their village as a congregation travelled the streets. Heads hung low as an older woman led the flock, wailing at a loss that had no compensation.

People hung out of their doorways to offer blessings and pay respects to help the grieving mother in her time of need. Mallory and Edie both hung out the doorway of the bakery, the former holding a basket of baked goods for when the women passed, the latter holding onto her friend as a tear shed from her eyes.

It wasn't the first time a boy from their village had set out on the elusive quest to find their lost queen. And it certainly wouldn't be the last. It was a hope that grasped them first, turning that hope into a wish, and then a wanting to prove themselves. Her son had been gone for 28 nights, far braver men had been mourned quicker than he but her hope had finally snapped. There's a reason none of the knights of the palace had turned to the quest, they hadn't needed to prove anything, so their souls sat in silence; no longing, no wanting, nothing.

Adric wasn't a knight, but oh, how much he wanted for it. It was this want that pushed his heart and brain in the same instance. It is often said that, in the darkest moments, one can find answers if he knows where to look. However, Adric didn't need the darkest moment to find his answer, he needed the spark which sputters, the catalyst for this mother's sorrow. A quest.