A Familiar Reunion

Aymara upon his return from his shard gauge expansion routine at the newly cleared training grounds two Naga-ribbons away from the house going east (a measure of 10 meders), trips on the bush Renar fumbled when he collided with Thricky an hour ago before the sohl began its descent below the horizon. With this revenge is fulfilled on the part of both the fruberry bush and Thricky, who, now resting atop Evy’s lap purrs, her eyes half-glazed with the kind of satisfaction that could only be had after being spoiled generously with leftover fruberries. The music of peace between two once mutually aggrieved clans permeated the room into which Aymara arrived, stilling himself from a minor outburst as he is yet recovering from his tumble with, a tale that will one day be sung by all bards, a man-eating fruberry bush (as Renar’s shards had hardly begun disengaging from the bush by the time Aymara chanced upon its menacing–actually cute–gaze). He arrives with purple spots around his upper arms, lending his appearance the look of a peak brawling wielder, a show of Silcontran aristocratic elegance. Imagine, pin straight hair long enough to sweep to his waist (though usually in a braid), eyes of an unswayable gilded gray with yellow irises which looked on with more severity than they carried, and lips and eyebrows that often betray his real emotions, now complemented by arms stained with purple spots for at least a week as they can’t be easily washed off. 

“Dissatisfied, dissatisfied, dithhpatisfied!” spoke the older brother, punctuating each word with a step for all to be made aware (though he bit his tongue on the last one).

“He’s about to start isn’-” Naga inquires sarcastically to the group.

“For days I have languished turning over every, every theory I could attribute for why father would want to renounce his position as champion! What could possibly drive a man with so much strength, vigor to cede that which invigorates him?! I’ve come to have a number of thoughts regarding this indecorous occurrence of which he felt no need to consult us. First and firstmost, father has been replaced by a man who is not our father, a shardite recreation meant to sabotage our family’s standing in Porra. I could imagine a number of families who would scheme in this way given their means: the Offeldangers, the Sprytvengens, ohh, yes, the Hubermurchents, and how could I forget the Norwings… What if they all allied together? Such an invention could not have been less than 1,000,000 yirling. They are the only ones who could manage it, yes? If this is the case we have to immediately address this imposter for our father may be in danger!”

“Aymara, son, your imagination is worth its own award and… Why are your shoulders purple?”

Cro, almost knocking over the grandmother clock walking into the main common room, intervenes in the conversation upon hearing the worry in his son’s voice from the kitchen, from where Cro had swiftly entered the cottage instead of the main door to relinquish the crops and hunt of the day on the table. 

“Father, oh father. Tell me it’s not true? Tell me it is a hoax spread by our covetous enemies though we’ve done them no real harm other than injury to their ego?”

Renar nudges Evy with a whisper that’s within everyone’s earshot, “isn’t this a problem because it’s hurting his ego?” A question for one, heard by all is a fun tactic employed by young boys, and Renar is no exception, fully participating in this little mischief of youth. Aymara cuts him a mean glance, but, as the self-proclaimed most polite older brother in Silcontra, he only seeks to scold, not intimidate.

“Renar, I must have you know tha-”

“Ay, I promise to tell all of you about my decision after supper, so come into the kitchen and help make it a good one otherwise… Well we know what happens when I cook alone.”

The crowd freezes at having heard that the plan before Ay got home was a meal prepared only by father. Flashbacks of cold meats and charred vegetables flood the minds of each sibling, and in unison they urge “GO AY, PLEASE!” 

At that command, rather than feeling peeved, Aymara grins spritely. “It. It looks like this is indeed our father for not even an imposter would readily admit such a poor aptitude for the culinary arts. It looks like, my kin, I will be your savior today.” 

They step together into the kitchen and a chorus of relief fills the room. “VICTOOORYY!” All return to their evening activities. The living room of the cottage is spacious, capable of holding at least 20 people comfortably. A few years ago, the parlor would’ve been filled with guests from the capital coming to see the newly minted Wielding Champion, but today its audience is only the people (and Thricky) that call the cottage home. Renar sat on a reading chair, playing a shard maze game. The main goal of the game is to get a single spherical shard across the surface of the wooden box to the final hole. The surface had walls like a maze and 99 holes for the player to avoid until landing their shard into the final one; the board also moved, sinking when the shard’s density was heaviest in one direction. What makes the game challenging is the need for the player to always shift the dense areas of their shard as they progress through the maze to avoid the leaning surface dragging their ball to the losing holes. Renar’s knack for shard control has seen him complete this game 42 times and now, 43. 

Evy stares in wonder at her brother. She’s only been able to complete the game 2 times.

Far from the cottage, toward the lighter side of the woods nearing Silcontra passed a trio of alfdeer. From the direction of their travel, they could be guessed at having circumvented the pond near Raphto’s store as the cold night fell. Cold is a friend to warm meals, for it makes their warmth tender.