Ancient Things We Hold

Chapter 4

The Beginning of the Real Story

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In the beginning of his adolescence, Aldwyn was seldom home at the right time. In the middle of spring in his fourteenth year, his governess greeted him with worry over how late he was. After her motherly fuss, she then calmed down to tell him, "Your father's been asking for you. Lord Daegel needs you for your lessons,"

He instantly wanted to run back to the woods, where he felt much more liberated. Slowly, he had grown to hate his lessons, even though all the Daegel sons had to do the exact same thing every evening without fail. They seemed to like it more.

Both his older brothers were so much more suited to their situation. Therefore, he hoped that his little brother would grow to be like him. Time would tell.

As he walked across the courtyard, he wondered which lesson his father would be giving that day. He meant well; he was trying to make them men, but he secretly wished becoming a man didn't have to involve the lessons. Nonetheless, he would persevere so as to uphold the family honour.

After deciding that, he found himself with his back on the floor and the end of a sharp blade pointing at his neck. "Balance, Aldwyn. If you fall over every time you duck, you'll never fight properly," Godric scolded. Behind him, he felt his father's eyes on his head, warning him
against becoming too disparaging. Therefore, he turned back round and raised his arms in defence. "Father, what can I do? When I was his age I could at least hold a sword without staggering over,"

"He doesn't try," weighed in Brant, "Look at him. He's a skinny as a rake. He doesn't eat enough, or move about enough-"

"I do. I do try," he insisted. Then, he looked up at his father and said, "I'm going to go again and this time, I'll stay up. I promise,"

Lord Daegel smiled at him from where he stood. As usual, he had situated himself in the far steps that overlooked the edge of their home. The yard in which the lessons took place was filled with an early dusk that covered his long, chestnut hair with silver. The light made his eyes appear even more attentive as he scrutinised every actions his sons made.

That pinnace from which he stood, yet rarely spoke from, was a constant reminder that their father was above them; he was stronger and wiser and more able. He was their ultimate teacher and the only person they knew was watching them always. All of them wanted to please him.

Aldwyn loved him so. He loved him in his silence, in his terrifying stance and his uncertain drive for goodness. Sometimes, though, he thought he would never be able to understand his own father. Although he was young, it was clear the two were quite different.

Lord Daegel was a tall man who wielded a sword like an extension of his arm. He was well respected for having four serving sons and three daughters, all graceful and righteous (well, at least outwardly they were). He looked over his lands like he looked over his sons during the lessons; never blinking out of his watchfulness.

Of course, there was an exception to every situation. He loved the dirt and the air and the rain and the sun in his lands, but there was a small cluster of houses he did not look after, for the King forbade it. Those houses were...different. They were taxed and pillaged, but never cared for. Sometimes he felt he should try to protect them more, but what would that look like to the rest of society? And after all, they were different.

The most important thing in his life was his children, anyway. They were his blood- the people that would carry the Daegel legacy and make connections with other houses. Upholding their good name was more important than anything. This could be shown by his excommunication of his brother. In some way, he had dishonoured the Daegel name (though Lord Daegel never said how) and none of them had see their uncle since.