A Day in the Village (3)

As the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon, Ravian made his way back to Valerie's home. The morning dew glistened on the grass, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The village was just beginning to stir, the soft sounds of morning routines echoing through the quiet streets.

Upon reaching the house, Ravian was greeted by the sight of Valerie, who had just woken up. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and there was a softness in her eyes that only the early morning could bring. "Good morning, Ravian," she greeted, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning, Valerie. You're up early." Ravian replied, his voice warm. As he spoke, Valerie's eyes widened slightly, her gaze fixed on his lips. "Ravian, you have... blood on your lips," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

Caught off guard, Ravian froze for a moment before quickly wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "Ah, a wolf attacked me during my walk," he lied smoothly, his golden eyes avoiding her gaze as he hoped she would buy his excuse. "I'm fine, just a minor scratch."

Valerie sighed, shaking her head in worry. "There have been a lot of wolves around lately," she remarked, her tone filled with concern. "You should be careful, Ravian."

Ravian nodded, his expression serious as his golden eyes met hers. "I remember my promise, Valerie," he reassured her, his voice steady. 

"And considering what I've hunted and brought back for us to eat, you shouldn't worry too much." His words hung in the air, a promise of safety in the midst of the unknown.

As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, its golden rays streaming through the windows, the house began to stir. The creaking of the wooden stairs signaled Sigmund's descent, his eyes still heavy with sleep. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze landing on Ravian, who was already hard at work in the kitchen.

Ravian, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, was skillfully carving up a piece of game, his hands moving with practiced ease. The meat was fresh, a result of his nightly hunt, and he was cutting it into neat portions for their morning meals. 

Beside him, Valerie was sprinkling salt over the already cut pieces, her movements precise and methodical. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, her lips pressed into a thin line as she focused on her task. The smell of the fresh meat and spices filled the kitchen, a tantalizing aroma that made Sigmund's stomach growl in anticipation.

Sigmund, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, moved closer, his curiosity piqued. "Ravian," he began, his voice still rough from sleep, "where did you learn to cut meat like that?"

Ravian paused in his task, a small smile playing on his lips. He chuckled softly, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. "From my father," he replied, his voice carrying equal parts mirth and fondness. "But he was terrible at it."

Valerie paused in her task, her brows knitting together in a display of genuine curiosity. She watched as Ravian's hands moved with a speed and precision that was almost mesmerizing, his cuts as neat and precise as those of the village's seasoned butcher. "Then how come you can cut it like a butcher raised ya?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of admiration and curiosity.

Ravian simply shrugged, his smile never wavering. His golden eyes sparkled with a playful light as he responded, "My father was a peculiar one," he admitted, his tone light and filled with fondness. "He was a fast learner. It took him a week from messing up all the cuts to giving me a lecture on the philosophy of cutting meat."

Sigmund, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up. "And the dishes? The clothes?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. "Did your father teach you those as well?"

Ravian's laughter echoed through the kitchen, a warm, infectious sound that seemed to breathe life into the room. "Indeed, he did," he confirmed, his smile widening into a grin. "He was a firm believer in self-sufficiency. Thought that if I could handle things on my own, I could lend a hand to those around me." With a swift, almost blurry movement, he made a cut that sent a slice of meat rolling neatly into Valerie's station. "Like so," he added, his tone light and playful.

Sigmund, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, let out a soft 'huh' of surprise. He was about to make a comment, one that would have revealed Ravian's true identity as a crown prince from another world, but Valerie's timely interruption saved him from the slip.

Valerie, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, asked another question. "And who taught you all that magic, then?" she inquired, her village accent thickening with her growing excitement.

Ravian let out a well-concealed sigh of relief, his golden eyes meeting Valerie's. "My father, again," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "He had a great hand in shaping me into who I am today."

Valerie's laughter echoed through the room, a hearty sound that seemed to bounce off the walls. Her eyes, bright with mirth, twinkled like the stars in the night sky. "So, yer da' must've been a real gem, then? A looker, a charmer, and a true gent, just like you?" she teased, her words exemplifying the village dialect.

Ravian's reaction was immediate. He placed a hand over his heart, his expression one of feigned offense. "Oh, Valerie," he retorted, his voice filled with mock hurt and a hint of amusement. "You wound me. I assure you, I can be a lot more than just that, if you'd like."

Valerie's response was a joke, her words punctuated by her laughter that filled the room. "Oh, I'm sure you could, Ravian. But I reckon your da' would still have you beat."

Ravian huffed lightly, a playful glint in his mesmerizing golden eyes. "You'd be surprised," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "My father and I are so different, you wouldn't even think he was my father." As he spoke, an image of his father, smiling warmly, flashed through his mind, and he found himself smiling back.

With a chuckle, he added, "You'd give up thinking that he's a gem once you see him yourself." Valerie's eyes glanced at Ravian for a moment and then she decided to leave it there.

Sigmund, his curiosity piqued, decided to delve a little deeper. "So, do you have any born siblings, or are you your father's only son?" he asked, his tone filled with genuine interest. His eyes were wide with curiosity, eager to learn more about Ravian's intriguing past.

Ravian's response was immediate, a small smile playing on his lips as he shook his head. "I'm the middle child, actually," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. His golden eyes sparkled with a mix of nostalgia and fondness as he thought about his family back home.

His golden eyes twinkled as he continued, "My father has a unique way of showing his love. He loves us all equally, but he also plays favorites. He gives each child a unique benefit, something that the others would never be able to have." His voice was filled with a deep respect and admiration for his father.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Ravian turned to Sigmund. "You can try to guess what my favoritism is," he quipped, his tone light and teasing. His lips curled into a mischievous smile, clearly enjoying the little game he had initiated.

Sigmund, at first, looked confused, but then realization dawned on him. He remembered what Ravian had said earlier, about being the crown prince. His face lit up with understanding, and he let out a soft "Ah." The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at Ravian's revelation.

Ravian, noticing Sigmund's reaction, glanced at him, his expression subtly shifting. It was a silent message, a gentle reminder for Sigmund to keep his royal status a secret from Valerie. His golden eyes held a serious glint, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor, emphasizing the importance of his silent request.

Sigmund, lost in thought, finally broke the silence. "Is this what it's like to have a father?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was distant, his mind clearly wandering to the family he never had. The orphanage he grew up in was a far cry from the warm, loving home Ravian described.

Ravian looked at Sigmund, his golden eyes softening. He let out a chuckle, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, maybe father can adopt you. Then we'd be brothers," he suggested, his tone light and teasing.

Sigmund considered the idea, his expression thoughtful. "That wouldn't be so bad, would it?" he mused, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite only knowing Ravian for a week, he had come to consider him a friend, perhaps even a brother.

Their conversation was interrupted by Valerie's voice. "Not to interrupt the moment but, Ravian, could you move the salted meat to the storage room?" she asked, her hands busy preparing breakfast. Ravian nodded, walking to where Valerie previously salted the meat.

After a hearty breakfast, it was time for them to attend to their respective activities. Ravian bid them farewell, ready to join the morning hunt. Valerie, on the other hand, was off to pick herbs, leaving Sigmund alone in the house.

Sigmund stood there, watching them leave. He was left alone, unsure of what to do. He had no specific tasks or responsibilities, unlike Ravian and Valerie. He sighed, his gaze wandering around the house. He had the whole day ahead of him, and he had no idea how to spend it.