A Tale of Crown and Country

Tavin

Tavin awoke to the sounds of a door slamming. Mrs. Surstan was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast of some kind. Having not slept nearly since leaving Revdellen Tavin's head spun as he sat up; his mouth was dry and his limbs ached. He rubbed his eyes until he could see clearly again. Outside, the sun was well above the distant tree line. It was long past day break.

Mrs. Surstan must have noticed his apprehension at having overslept, because she voiced his concerns. "I felt it was best you kept sleeping. You seemed awful tired and I didn't want to wake you."

Tavin hopped out of his make-shift bed and began folding the many blankets. "I'll just have to move little faster is all," he said. "I'm not sure how far Quaelsi is though. I'd like to be there by nightfall." He would have liked to leave immediately, but his mother would have been disappointed if he hadn't returned the hospitality.

"Oh no no," she cried, "you can't leave now. It'll take all day to get there." She was obviously familiar with the next town on his list. Tavin was town-hopping; with enough luck, he'd arrive in a new town each night and set out every morning for a new one.

He was about to politely reject her reservations, citing he would walk much faster in order to arrive in time, but the smell of a well-rounded breakfast reached his senses and he momentarily considered Mrs. Surstan's implied proposition. He figured it wouldn't be so bad if he stayed an extra day in Weltyn. It wasn't as if anyone was waiting for him. He had no timeline, no urgent business to attend to. He barely had a destination or a plan. Besides, a full day of rest would do him well and possibly give him more energy for the following days of travel. By Tavin's initial calculations, it would take him seven days to reach Aldira; five if he cut through the Inglewood forest. Perhaps while in Weltyn he could consult a few Allriyans on the best path to reach the capital. Tavin was only going off of old notebooks and travel diaries he had found in his grandfather's library, and the few accounts he had gotten from neighbours who had done the same journey. Tavin didn't have a cart, much less a horse, and so his travel was certainly going to be more difficult than the stories he had heard. He thought back to the meagre sum in his pockets; yes, this was going to be much more difficult than the stories had foretold.

"You didn't need to do that," Mrs. Surstan commented at the sight of neatly folded blankets Tavin presented to her. "Come have some breakfast. I'll deal with that," she gestured to the breakfast table covered in steaming mugs and plenty of food.

Tavin pulled one of the chairs he had slept on over to the table. The scraping noise brought Reichie out of his room. The two boys each sat at the table and gripped the mugs of warm water set out for them. The water was slightly sweetened with honey and although Tavin was used to the more flavourful tea his own mother provided he was glad some of their cultures were the same. Breakfast, however, was a little different. Tavin was used to the bland boiled oats he had grown accustomed to throughout his childhood. The food before him was strange and unfamiliar. He watched Reichie dive into a pile of flat disks the colour of corn. Reichie poured a pitcher of milk over the food and used his wooden spoon to shovel the flakes into his mouth. Tavin ignored the bowl for a moment and grabbed a piece of bread. He covered it with honey and snacked on that. Though he was starting to realize more and more how starved he was, he was hesitant to try the flakes.

"You put honey on your bread?" Reichie asked between mouthfuls, genuinely curious.

"Yes..." Tavin answered plainly. "Don't you?"

"Not at all. Sometimes we'll put a bit of butter on though. Honey's rather expensive."

Tavin nearly dropped the bread. He hadn't meant to exhaust any of the Surstans' supplies. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't know."

"Not at all," Mrs. Surstan cut in, "you may eat as you like. You are our guest," she smiled and joined the boys at the table. "Your father'll be back from Odeila tomorrow," she said to her son, who hardly bothered to acknowledge that he was indeed listening. "So Edwein's gone to help Old Mr. Bramptur with his firewood."

Reichie's head nodded in understanding, though his attention never drifted from his breakfast.

"Do you not like the cereal?" Mrs. Surstan asked in concern.

Tavin glanced between her and the bowl of flakes before him. "No no," he protested, "it's just, I've never had it before."

"Never had cereal!" Reichie exclaimed. "What kind of barbarian place is Reightneir?"

"Now now, Reichie," Mrs. Surstan chastised. "They just have some different food there is all." Her own cheeks took on the embarrassment; Tavin wanted to tell her not to worry, but he thought that might make things worse.

"The honey-water is very good," he said, sipping his drink and smiling at Mrs. Surstan. Hopefully she wouldn't feel so bad anymore. "At home we have flavoured water."

"Flavoured water?" Reichie asked. "How's that work?"

"We put special leaves in the water when it's really hot, you see," Tavin explained. "And then when you take the leaves out they leave behind a lot of flavour."

"Don't go around putting leaves in water, Reichie," Mrs. Surstan warned.

"Wow, you're real smart for a Reightneirian," Reichie commented.

"Reichie." Mrs. Surstan's cheeks turned bright red; their previous colouring paled in comparison.

Tavin pushed some of the cereal onto his spoon. He tried to hide the smile that crept onto his face. As much as Reichie was annoyingly blunt with his thoughts, the dynamic between him and his mother was laughable to him, as much as it was oblivious to Reichie and infuriating to Mrs. Surstan.

The woman, following no outrage from Tavin, slowly returned to her breakfast. He imagined she was trying very hard to come up with an excuse for her son.

Tavin looked up at Reichie. The boy's eyes fluttered between him and his mother. He didn't entirely understand the situation, but he understood he had spoken out of line.

"It's true," Tavin said. He smiled slyly at Reichie. "I've got this friend–well, not really a friend–but he's awfully stupid. He couldn't tell you the difference between a pigeon and a pig."

Reichie stifled a laugh. Tavin turned to his mug of honey-water to hide the smile on his face. He didn't think Mrs. Surstan would appreciate the joke as much as he and her son did.

"Mother, can I show Tavin around town?"

"Of course you can. If Tavin would like to."

Tavin nodded his approval.

"Wait until he's eaten breakfast," she said, cutting her son off before he could speak again.

Tavin looked down at his bowl. He was only half done the cereal. Across the table, Reichie was sitting on his hands and looking eagerly between Tavin and his breakfast. Understanding washed over Tavin and he shoved two more mouthfuls of cereal down his throat. Gulping down the last of his honey-water, Tavin announced he was finished. Reichie jumped with a start and hurried to find his coat. Tavin took his up from the chair that had served as half his bed, and, with a goodbye smile to Mrs. Surstan, he nicked a piece of bread off the table before being dragged out the door and down the stairs by the overly-eager Allriyan boy.