6 Reunion II
She was still the same; she had her usual wicked smile on her face that didn't get lost by the passage of time.
Although, as a son, he didn't want to admit it, but his mother was still ugly as ever. He thanked whatever gods made him for not making him inherit his mother's traits.
Surprisingly, he had an average looking face. Though considering his mother's attributes, calling him fortunate would be a gross understatement.
Ten years ago, fed up by his mother's lecherous nature, he had told her to leave in a fit of anger, an act he had later regretted.
Receiving complaints from the molested nobles had only reinforced the belief that he did the right thing, but by the passage of time, the love of a son returned to him. He had come to realize money, power and status were not everything.
Unable to endure her lack of presence, he had asked her to return.
Her arrival obviously meant she had acknowledged his request.
"I have also missed you, mother," he replied in a deep voice.
"Oh, have you? Well then, how about expressing your feelings in a form of a hug?" She said in a playful voice and opened her arms wide open, as if an angle waiting for a child to embrace her; though she more looked more like a devil than angel.
He moved forward, his heart pounding, and gave her a hug.
As if wanting to show her affection, she tightened her embrace and moved her right hand over his back.
"Isn't there something you would like to say?"Asked her mother in the most sweet humane she could produce.
He waited for a moment, trying to ascertain her intentions, before answering, "Yes, that I am sorry."
"Aww, sweety, come here. Let your mama give you a kiss," said her mother as she opened her crocodile-like mouth.
"No, I'll give you a kiss instead," he said while gritting his teeth.
Controlling his urge to vomit, his face leaned in closer and landed a kiss on his mother's cheek. If only he knew that one who he, the proud noble, was kissing was a fifteen year old young man, he'd definitely try to kill himself.
"That was unexpected," surprised, his mother said with eyes wide open.
'Oh, at least this would be enough to satisfy her for a while,' thought Monward.
"Mother, your room and food has been prepared.. The servant outside will show you the way. The food shall be served during the afternoon, so don't be late," said Monward in a low voice.
"Of course, sweety," seeing no reason to stay, her mother made her way outside the chamber.
Making sure of her exit, Monward puked out what he was holding inside for what felt like eternity.
"BARF!" He vomited.
"Cough, cough, why did she smell like onions?!" A retching noise resounded in the room.
☯☯☯☯
'Fuck! Fuck! Fucking shame on me! Why the hell did I have to ask for a kiss?!' Right now Malazan was having a conflict with himself.
He had no idea why the hell he had ask that moron, or rather baron for a kiss. The tingling feeling on his cheek only further increased his infuriation. He sometimes really hated himself for his irrational actions.
'Wait, don't tell me I am interested in men? No, that's impossible! The only emotion I felt after touching that knight's butt was disgust!" Malazan finally felt a sense of relief after confirming that he wasn't homosexual.
"Madam, this way please," said the servant ahead of him.
Malazan followed, trying and failing to recall the servant's name, until they reached the door leading to the yard outside.
Expecting Martin to be waiting for him outside, he had told the servant he first wanted to call for his butler.
☯☯☯☯
It was wide and open, sloping gently down to a cosmic-blue pond. A copse grove of cypress pines flanked him on one side, with a thicket grove of peaceful beeches standing guard on the other.
Apple trees ran through the centre of the garden, casting a lake of claw shadows onto the grass. The fiery brilliance of the leaves was a sight: scorching-oranges, burning-browns and molten-reds. As they drifted to the ground as silently and carelessly as an ash cloud, settling in to their eternal rest.
Martin was spell-bound as he continued watching the garden. Being told to wait by Malazan, he got bored after awhile and chose to survey the baron's garden.
When arriving at the baron's house and receiving those dangerous glares from the knights, he had gotten scared, to the point where he nearly pissed himself.
And the thought of waiting here alone, even though it was only for half an hour, further boosted his fears.
'Maybe coming here was not that bad, after all,' thought Martin, fascinated by the beautiful sight.
Oblivious to his surroundings, he failed to hear the steps coming towards him.
—And then.
"What are you doing here?"
"AAAAH!" Startled by the question, Martin accidentally stepped on a rock, to only end up losing his balance as his head hit the ground.
—He passed out.
☯☯☯☯
Feeling the crawling sensation of water being splashed on his face, Martin woke up.
"Well, I didn't know you were such a scaredy-cat."
Martin thought the voice sounded familiar, as he tried to open his eyes.
"Ah, so it's you, Malazan, " said Martin after seeing him in his ugly disguise.
His head throbbed with the effort of forming the words, and his voice cracked, barely a whisper.
"Who else were you expecting?" Asked Malazan with a devious smile on his face.
"N-No one. I just got a bit startled when I heard you, that's all, " replied Martin, as each word sent a peal of agony crashing through his head, and he winced. The side of his face felt as stiff and unyielding as a plank of oak.
"I see. Anyway, the food is about to be served, so we better get going, " told Malazan as he extended his right arm and gave him a hand.
"Thank you," said Martin as he grabbed the hand and forced himself to stand up on his feet.
☯☯☯☯
As one would expect from a great wealthy noble, the dining-room was exquisite. The walls were covered with a shimmering gold paper and in the middle of the ceiling above the carved oak table was a candelabra.
Down the center of the table was a runner with Celtic design woven in gold and green into the fabric itself. At the end of the table were floor to ceiling french doors, left slightly ajar to let in the scented summer air.
The polished silver cutlery was heavy to the hand and shone brightly in the early evening light. At each place stood a tall empty wine glass and there were beautifully folded napkins to match the runner.
The enticing aroma of food permeated the air as three people, Baron Monward, Malazan and Martin, sat on their respective seats.
Malazan, or rather baron's mother ate with gusto, gulping down all the food like a glutton, while Martin sat there with his hands trembling. Maybe it was due to being in the suffocating presence of Baron Monward, or due to seeing the excessively wealthy display of a noble, Martin could not find the courage to touch such expensive cutlery.
Monward was not surprised at the unbecoming manners of his mother because as far he could remember, his mother have had such uncivilized habit of eating for who knows how long.
"Martin, is something the problem?" Questioned the baron's mother with a voice filled with curiosity.
"N-No, none at all, madam," replied Martin in a flustered manner.
"Is that so? Then why are you not eating anything?" Asked Monward's mother with a playful smile on her face.
He was doing it on purpose! He knew it! That devious smile of his always indicated trouble.
"I was just praying, madam. As you already know, I always offer a prayer before eating," Martin hurriedly made-up a clever excuse.
"Oh yes, I actually forgot about that!" Said the baron's mother with a surprised expression.
'This guy is not as dumb as I thought him to be," pondered Malazan in an internal dialogue.
Martin response was a tricky one, as Malazan was left with no way to question him further. If he had exposed Martin's lie, the baron would have become suspicious at how she, his master, did not know about her butler's eating habit.
"Mother, how was your journey?"
"Hmm, it was alright. Nothing of you to worry about."
Small talk like this continued as they ate.
☯☯☯☯
Martin snapped awake after hearing a sound of something fall on the ground.
"Who is there?!" He asked in a frightened manner.
—And then.
"Pshh! Be quiet!"
—Someone put their hand over his mouth.
