Summer Beyond the Frontier

2 Gordon Lus

Abigail sat on the wooden chair close to the window side with the nature's view screening in front of her. The swishing morning breeze fanned her face, brushing her hair to her face.

She tucked strands of hair which had escaped being weaved in a ponytail behind her ears while her hands busied with the needle work.

She hummed her favorite lyrics, rocking back and forth to the tune.

"What was the next tune?" she asked Lucian who was sitting on the ground beside her, weaving her threads as well.

"Do I know the lyrics to this tune? Only the nobles know of music."

Abigail looked at her. "You belittle yourself too much, Lucian."

"Look at you my lady, you even look down at me to speak."

"That's only because you sit on the bare floor. Where else would I look to speak to you when you sit on the floor."

"Look around the room. There is no other chair for me to sit. On the floor is where I belong, where you would always look down at me."

Abigail seemed stunned but she masked that with a blank stare. She had no idea where Lucian's words were coming from but she hoped it wasn't out of jealousy or hatred. But then, Lucian had been with her longer than that— longer than jealousy and hatred.

Abigail set aside the silk, needle and thread in her hand. She adjusted her dress, one she was trying really hard to adapt to only to satisfy her mother. She looked at Lucian and cupped her face in her palm. Lucian meant so much to her than she can even think of.

"You do not belong to the ground. There is no other chair in the room because you took it to the wood repairer. Also, I only asked for the tune to the lyrics not your philosophical words. Silly girl!"

Lucian chuckled and Abigail joined.

"La la...hum...hum...stay in the jungle with me, my love...la la...hum...hum..." that's it.

"You see. You know more than the noble, my friend!"

They both laughed and resumed their work.

Abigail smiled at nothing, as she raised her head to stare at nothing in particular but her gaze caught something or someone.

She stretched her head out to have a proper view but it was too far to see who or what it was.

"There's a movement approaching the gate!" she said in all quickness, getting up to hurry away but Lucian pulled her back.

"The men will tend to that."

"I am a warrior!"

"You are a woman. Leave the men's work for them to do. Mother strictly instructed I do not let you involve in those damaging chores."

"Lucian! Whose side are you?"

"There's a side to pick?"

"Yes!"

"Then I pick your side."

"So?"

"What?"

Abigail tilted her head to the doorway and Lucian shook her head.

"No way."

"You're on Mother's side!" Abigail declared before sitting back down and roughly arranging the heavy dress.

"Time will tell that I am only on your side and your side alone!" Lucian muttered under her breath with a smiley face.

————————————
The guards threw the man before Lord Westward, the master of the Malour family and the leader of Northwave.

He had a puffy cloak on that circled around his neck posing this arrogant look that exuded his respected presence.

"Who is this man?!" he asked with his elbow resting on the armchair.

"We found him lurking around the fence."

"Who are you, stranger?" Lord Westward asked but the man had his face to the ground, assessing his thoughts without giving any response.

"Is he deaf or dumb?" Westward asked one of the guards with a raised eyebrow.

"I believe he is one of the spies from our enemy's nest," the guard replied.

"Please, my lord. I mean no harm. I am no spy of no one." he pleaded, crawling forward on his knees.

"Oh, he hears, he speaks."

Westward got up from his seat and walked forward to the man.

"Raise your head," Westward instructed.

"I dare not look you in the eye, my lord."

"Then take him away to the dungeon or feed him to the pigs!"

"Please, my Lord." he hurriedly raised his head but he couldn't fix his gaze on Lord Westward.

He had a dark look behind his blue eyes. He looked too gorgeous to be a spy and too good-looking to be trusted.

Westward stared into his eyes with uncertainty before he spoke. "What brings you here, young man?"

"I have heard your good news throughout the fast speed of the winds and the sway of the trees. The birds sing of your greatness and the waves surge of how perfectly you have led the people of Northwave."

"What brings you here?!" Warren harshly asked but his father raised his hand.

Lord Westward stared intensely at him but he looked away without meeting Westward's eyes. No one has ever been able to meet his gaze. It held such power that makes anyone tremble without knowing it and this man was not an exception.

"You evade my question."

"My lord," he lowered his head before speaking again. "I mean not to be selfish or show greediness but I have come to seek refuge in Northwave. I want to savour in the uniqueness of your kingdom."

Lord Westward wondered what gave such a young man the audacity to seek all of these from him. He had been able to guide his kingdom from the outside world and for a long time, no one had ever intruded him like he had done. He felt rather bothered than applauded by his words of praise.

"What did you say your name was?" Lord Westward asked eventhough he seemed lost in thought.

He cleared his throat before he replied, looking up at Lord Westward's face.

"I am Gordon Lus."

Lord Westward's instinct pointed something out but he couldn't quite put his finger on it—maybe it was the good looks or the name.

He then whispered to his son, Warren. "He looks like trouble."