Riveildian tales

The meaning of Bravery

Bravery, for many it is a reflection of strength, an ability to act without fear. But only a few truly understand what it means to possess bravery. This is the story of a boy named Oliver, and how he learnt the meaning of bravery.

The night wind howled as though it warned the crescent moon of the dark clouds that would soon cover it. Drop by drop, the streets of Riveildia soon witnessed an onslaught of rainfall from the night sky. While the people of Riveildia who weren't already slumbering took shelter from the rain in their homes, one person walked the streets alone. Despite the spirits that whispered their curses with the wind, and the harsh chill of the falling rain, a man walked unscathed. He wore the silver armour of the Riveildian knights, armed with a sword sheathed at his hip and a bejewelled shield strapped at his back, this soldier marched towards the beloved place he once raised he sword for, he marched towards his home.

Amice knocked on the door of the Wood's household wearing a gleeful smile. She always looked forward to every morning where Oliver's mother; Agnes invited she and Thomas for breakfast.

"Coming," Oliver voiced from the other side of the door. Thomas stood next to Amice eyeing a woolen bag she carried with in one hand.

"I still can't believe you were able to get an entire bag of fresh olives." Amice held the bag against her chest and tapped against it with a grin.

"Well the old lady who gave it to me must have not needed it." Little did Thomas know that in reality, the old lady Amice referred to was the royal chef in the Riveildian castle who wasn't even aware when the olives were snatched by princess Eleanor from right under her nose. The door finally creaked open revealing Oliver standing on the other side with sullen look on his face.

"Good morning Olly." Amice greeted brightly, she noticed dark circles around his eyes and how dishevelled his hair looked. Amice raised a brown while the other furrowed, "Is anything wrong?"

"Yeah Oliver..." Thomas chimed in, "You look... well you don't look good." Oliver rose his hand to his mouth and yawned,

"I didn't get much sleep, it's nothing a walk won't fix." he managed to get the words out within his yawns. "come in."

The three got into the house and settled down around the dining table. Amice and Thomas watched Oliver in confusion as he sat right beside her. Usually Oliver would sit at the chair which was placed at the furthest edge of the dining table, directly opposite the one his mother usually used. He often stated that it was reserved for the man of the house. Perhaps the lack of sleep has him disoriented. Thomas thought.

"Good morning kids!" Agnes greeted, positively beaming with a smile. She practically skipped into the dining room as each step she took was aided with a gentle hop. The three friends noticed how she hummed a silent tuned as she planted a kiss on Olivers head and tussled both Amice and Thomas's hair.

"Good morning Mr's woods." Thomas greeted. Unlike Amice he'd refused to address Oliver's mother by her first name: Agnes.

"You three must be starving." Agnes said a bit too enthusiastically. She stood upright and clapped her hands together. "I'll go get breakfast." With that, she sauntered onto the kitchen, humming even louder.

"She's in a good mood today." Thomas stated looking back at her.

"Compared to her, you seem like Mr Hamphyll today." Amice said with a laugh, pointing at Oliver's scowl.

"She's happy because my father came last night." Oliver opened his mouth to yawn once more. "I got so excited that I didn't get a wink of sleep." he shifted his gaze to Amice as he scratched his head. "Did you get to the olives?"