The Reunion

Rigurd wiped the sweat from his brow as he stepped outside into the afternoon sun. He was a well-built man and being in the workshop still to this day made him uncomfortably hot. There was always work to be done however, even in a small village like this.

Irvin and his woodsmen were forever needing an axe re-edged or new tension hook forged. Then there was farmer Ebass with a broken plough blade or bent forks. As well as nails, so many nails. For repairs to the palisade and other general maintenance to the imperial buildings. The smith had initially thought Samel the carpenter to be unskilled, what with using so many nails. Rigurd had been convinced by an old Icanii carpenter once that 'intersecting joints' were a superior method for building with wood and much cheaper.

Though what men say over mead in taverns cannot be taken so readily and Rigurd worked with hot ore not wood. Samel had only sourly told Rigurd "That's not the imperials way though old friend" in response to the information. Chuckling to himself, the smith thought about how it was the nails that kept bread on the table and oats in the barrel for the most part. "Leave them to their own dilemmas" the large man chuckled aloud.

After allowing the furnace to die a little Rigurd sealed it. Then locking up the workshop he turned south to make his way home. Entering the central palisade, he passed a dirt courtyard, centred with a water well and surrounded by rectangular stone-built shop fronts and the tavern 'Rams Hide' in the northern corner. Where he noticed it was busy.

Several men with thick mountain accents were engaged in a debate about how best to travel to Knol Hagen. "The Old North Road, that would be the safest!" clamoured the shortest of the trio, with a flat nose, wide neck and thick black beard.

The taller man with his back to Rigurd loudly retorted with "That'd be a week by horse from this backwater, and we nae have horses! I'd be a damned fool to track a fortnight through bear country an nae get ma chance to sink the end of my pick into some gold!"

"Miners" scoffed Rigurd as he strolled on the opposite side of the courtyard.

There had been an increased number of prospectors passing through of late, a surly bunch. "Unpleasant to have too many in town at once. Glad they're all in such a hurry to get to Hagen" muttered Rigurd thinking aloud.

Then he recalled a conversation between two prospectors recently, about a rush. A gold 'rush', it sounded as though somebody had finally struck it lucky up in the Icanii Peaks. Even though the majority percentage of what is dug out belongs to the Council Lord of Fort Hagen, people with picks would flock from leagues afar to have a swing at the sparkling veins of ore. Rigurd had heard such stories from his grandfather about the last time Gold was struck up there. About how the town was full of life, people full of hope, trade was booming and people not short on coin.

The blacksmith sighed. That was before his time. When the North was not under Imperial rule and the Icanii were not a conquered people. He recalled how his great grandfather had hated it here after the conquest. Rigurd had always put that down to the bitter resentment of a once proud peoples, for it was only his great grandfather's generation that would truly remember times before.

Exiting the palisades of the village centre, the large smith strolled through the southern quarters. Passing circular cob dwellings with thick conical thatch roofs, the old Icanii round houses. Outside many of which hung rabbits and small game aging in preparation for winter. How the new village centre with its bleak stone square mansion and shops compared with the humble dwellings outside the palisade, most of the stone in these homes lay in the foundations, if they had any at all.

The smith preferred it modest. Just off the southern route to Skelba about a half hour walk from the imperial courtyard, the homes were sparse but not so much as to not call each other neighbours. On the southern side of the palisade they were shielded by thickets of Pine and Fir woodlands to the west, which offered ample windbreak.

All in all, Rigurd had been quite content here his whole life. He had some success in the workshop and had aqquired some skill as well as savings. Some of which he invested in land. Which had a hidden bite, as taxes had become exorbitant of late.

The Smith could see his home now. A large timber framed cob house modelled after the square style of the Imperials. With the timber frame visible it was a unique building here amongst the traditional roundhouses. Instead of the usual conical thatch roof, Rigurd had used an A frame and built a chute for the fireplace alongside the house instead of having a central opening in the thatch. He was particularly proud of his abode as he had constructed it mostly himself. Adding to it over time with the acquired land he had attached stables as well as a small workshop to continue his tinkering at home.

Whilst passing his daughters rose bushes, his woven willow fence and the gated entrance to his property, he saw the one thing that reminded him of his errant son the most. A bronze knocker set on a heavy wooden door. Vaguely distinguishable as the head of a Tiger, glinting in the early evening sun. Not a masterpiece, but something he and his son had crafted together what felt like decades ago. Roughly hammered and shaped and drastically under refined, it was a rough piece made with love and enjoyment, not expertise.

A smile touched the big man's cheeks and to stop himself tearing up he turned on his heel and puffed his chest before he got to the door.

By pure chance he spotted movement on the road.

Still a few hundred meters off he had to strain his old eyes to see properly. Two travellers.

"A man and… is that a child?" queried the Smith aloud. "Bit late to be strolling into town. Nae find a room in the Rams Hide. Fills up fast with all the prospectors".

Getting closer now the man and child became much clearer to Rigurd. Eyes relaxing, he could clearly make out the man. A soldier in black leather armour and viridian cape. Rigurd took note of the short sword and dagger at the waist and the canvas pack and long wooden stave on the back of the soilder. "One of Iruss' men no doubt". Said Rigurd to himself.

The General Iruss, sent south to fight in another of the Imperial Emperors pointless conquests. What would have been six years prior. The child however looked like a beggar. Tattered and dirty and now even closer, Rigurd saw the lack of shoes on the child.

Then he noticed the emblem on the soldier's chest. The long tooth Tiger.

Shuddering ever so slightly at the reputation of Corvin's Fangs. The elite regiment of the Icanii Auxiliary.

"Takes a certain sort to wear that armour" said Rigurd.

To the smiths surprise the pair turned into his property. Suddenly the soldiers face, behind the dirt and stubble was very familiar and as if almost reactionary he shouted at the top of his lungs "Ilga! Ursla! Come now! Hurry!" and began a very purposeful stride towards the young soldier.

"By all the divines, I cannae believe my very eyes. I never thought I'd see you again!" Laughing now, rolling thunderous laughter full of joy and tears forming in the wells of his eyes, the usually cantankerous Rigurd embraced the young man. Lifting him clear off the ground into a lung evacuating bear hug.

The young soldier winced then chuckled.

"Arik me boy!" cried the old smith as his hulking frame squished the air out of the returning son.

The door to the house opened with a whack and two women appeared from the emanating warmth of indoors.

"What's all the racket ye grumpy old ox?" shot an angry question from the older of the two women. Rigurd suddenly dropped Arik to his feet and straightened himself.

"Ilga, just look!" came his retort. Ilga, Arik's mother was an intuitive lady, she had realised the moment she laid eyes on the man.

"Oh Arik, my son. You're early!" Now both the women began to well up as Arik approached them. The younger had flowing Auburn hair and wore the traditional Icanii garb of blue and white tunic tied at the waist with red flax rope.

Both older than when Arik had last seen them. Ursla had been tiny then, loving to follow her older brother around on his many adventures. Now she was striking, slender with defined cheeks, full lips a ravishing smile and the same Sapphire eyes as Arik.

'Almost identical to mother' Arik thought.

Though his mother now sporting grey and white locks in her Auburn hair and certainly becoming stouter of hip, looked tired he noticed. He brushed himself off and moved to embrace them both.

"Mother, Sister, it has been too long! What are you now Ursla fifteen?" then turning towards the smith "Father, may I intrude upon you all this evening?"

Slightly confused by the question Rigurd responded "Of course, Son you don't need to ask! I am hoping it's to stay though." Anxiously laughing "But pray tell me, who's the little rapscallion you've brought with you?"

"Oh Father, this is Aern. I suspect, he tried to rob me of food a day's ride from here. Poor little tyke was hungry. Fed him though, now I have bought him here. Not safe out in the wilds father, not alone." replied Arik feeling ashamed he had forgotten about the child in the commotion.

"It would seem you were alone until the lad found you, Arik." Replied the father candidly.

Ilga, now over her initial joy and surprise, coughed loudly and stepped forward. Her expression now firm and serious.

"I think poor little one will need feeding, bathing and clothing. He looks gaunt and terrified. As for you Arik you smell like a dead goat and look like a brigand. You must first remove your armour and wash it. It smells as if you have been sleeping in it. Then, wash yourself."

Taking a few paces forward she scooped up a rather shocked looking Aern and marched indoors. Followed swiftly by a giggling Ursla.

Arik and his father exchanged a look "Better do as your mother says son. You know how it works 'round 'ere."

"Aye father, I'll see to it." Rigurd nodded and strode towards the door. Before he could even reach the threshold Ilga's serious tone could be heard from indoors

"You too ye lumbering old ox, don't think I couldn't smell the furnace on you and shut the door the warmth will be wasted!" Both the men took one knowing look at each other and burst into harmonious laughter.

Aern had stood in awe of the reunion. At first, he was surprised by the size of the large intimidating man that he now understood to be 'The Tigers' father. His arms were the size of Aern's torso, he stood a clear foot over his son. A black beard speckled with flecks of white and grey eyes that gave the man's face a stone like chill. His legs were as big as trees and he wore a leather apron over a cream woollen tunic with a large hammer at his belt.

The whole experience was rather daunting for such a small boy, then after unceremoniously being carried away and subjected to being soaped and dunked into warm water he now found himself sat warm and dry, in a new woollen tunic eating a meal of watery stew and toasted stale bread at a real table. He felt spectacular. He had been out in the cold too long. He could not even muster the strength to speak when he had finally arrived at this house and was swept along silently with the good-natured ruckus.

A beautiful woman with Auburn hair and Sapphire eyes sat opposite him. She was looking at him rather adoringly. He found himself blushing and looked away awkwardly. Ursla burst out in rich laughter and moved her gaze away from Aern, helping herself to a jug on the table and pouring an amber liquid into her clay cup.

The small stranger gazed around the room. He could not help but wonder if the family were poor or just humble, it was larger than any house of any craftsmen he knew of, but yet it seemed unadorned with any luxuries. It only had things he could recognise from other working households. Yet everyone seemed so full of joy and content.

Aern glanced over to the fire where he could see the large man Rigurd conversing with his son Arik who was freshly shaven, just a light shaded goat chin remaining. He looked particularly clean now, without the stubble his smooth complexion and strong jawline were more obvious. He wore black leggings and a white shirt, which allowed his finely toned arms to show, with his long hair shaved to the ears and tied back. Aern noted that both father and son looked exceptionally formidable even in this relaxed environment.

They were both drinking the same amber liquid from the jug Ursla had poured from and the room was filled with warm enriching sounds as the family, reunited, were regaled of tales from Ariks journeys. Finishing his stew, Aern got up from the table. Determined to take the wooden bowl and spoon to a stone basin full of water in the corner of the room.

When all the warmth and food began to make him feel drowsy and he found he could not quite reach the lip of the basin to place his bowl. Beginning to get frustrated the young boy suddenly noticed Ilga behind him. Appearing silently as if she had glided across the room without ever touching the floor. She took the bowl and swiftly cleaned it and the spoon. Placing them to dry she turned to Aern.

"I think it's time for the Ladies and Children to retire. You look dreadfully tired after all the commotion. Added that the herbs I put in the stew would have also made you sleepy. Come I will take you to bed."

From the fireplace came and long feminine groan. "But Ma Arik has just got settled it's been so long, can I have just a bit longer?" moaned Ursla begrudgingly. "Not tonight, Ursla, the boys must catch up and you are sharing bed with Aern." Rebuked Ilga.

"Come, its late I have no patience for it." She snapped. Ursla blushed, turned to her father and brother. Swiftly planting a kiss on her brother's forehead, she bid them goodnight and fled the room.

Aern glanced up at Ilga feeling slightly awkward in the authoritative woman's close proximity. "Let's get you tucked in with Ursla Aern my child, you've had a long journey. You can tell us all about it in the morning." Said Ilga with a loving but inquisitive tone.

At even the thought of the prospect of being tucked up with Ursla, Aern's cheeks flushed red. It was embarrassing enough that he had been unable to muster the courage to speak all night. But now he was going to be tucked into a bed with a girl. She was pretty but Aern swiftly put that from his mind. He felt safe, waving goodnight to the men by the fire, he allowed himself to be led off to bed.

"Ha half the young men in the village would die to be in that little rapscallion's boots. I bet they would give up everything they owned. He better makes the most of it. Being young, innocent and doted upon won't last forever!" bellowed Rigurd from the fireplace erupting into drunken laughter. "The look on his face too."

"Okay pa. That is your daughter you're talking about and my sister." Interrupted Arik smirking

"Aye that she is me boy, but she is beautiful, and she damn well knows it. She will be a dangerous woman one day. Just like her ma." Grinned the Smith.

Smiling openly, Arik rose from his seat to pour himself another cup of the amber liquid. "Good batch this year pa." he said.

"Got it from old man Celenan at the Rams Hide. The Old codger is a genius with the honey and yeast. Gave up brewing it myself when that place got built and he moved in. About the only good thing the Imperials did way up 'ere in Risvale is building that Inn." Replied the smith thoughtfully staring into the fire.

Taking on a grave look Arik downed the Mead in his cup. "Aye, not that I'd know. But I've had my fair share of unpleasant experiences with the damn fools. I'm glad to be rid of them." Rigurd turned his head from the fire. The light reflected from his eyes giving them a burning orange glow. Which only elevated the stern look upon his brow, sighing he spoke.

"You'll not be rid of them. They rule our ancestral lands. But come now enough of the macabre. Tell me, did you find what you set off in search for all those years ago?"

Raising an eyebrow Arik took his seat. "Aye father, that I did. You know all too well I was a foolish child when I left. I have had six years and plenty of misery to mull this over. I think I went for selfish reasons, join up with General Iruss' five thousand men and march south. I suppose I thought it would be adventurous and honourable. Aye it was those illusions of grandeur that led me off. I am sorry for not writing, I am also sorry for the hurtful things that were said before I left. I know…"

Being cut off by his father Arik looked up. Rigurd had a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Son, I can only thank the heavens that you're home. I know why ye left, I know exactly why. Heavens I did the same in a sense. Left 'ome to find me self, I just didn't want ye going ta war." The stress lines in the Smiths face and the stern look now melting away, Rigurd began to chuckle.

"If I remember rightly, I was pretty foul mouthed too!" Offering his palm to his son Arik took it by the wrist in the warriors embrace.

"But heavens son, you must have some stories? You marched south for six years. What did you see?" Asked Rigurd, with curiosity now glinting in his eye.

And so the evening went on, Arik and his father sat drinking fine mead and talking in exultant tones by the fire recounting exciting tales from Ariks travels. Rigurd had learned that Icanii maps merely showed a tenth percentage of the true world. That there were countries and continents he had never heard of. Some with jungles so thick you couldn't march an army through and others with deserts so vast than no man dare enter for fear of consumption.

It was only when the evening had turned to morning that the smith's childlike curiosity and bewilderment were shattered and the stern atmosphere returned to the pair. The volume of their voices was now hushed, as if to hide the discussion from the very walls around them.

"But that can't be! If what you are saying is true and the Emperor was murdered by his peers. Then I hate to think what that implies." wheezed Rigurd under his breath, the colour fading from his cheeks.

"It's already begun father; the Empire is beginning to crumble. Especially in the capital, where everything is chaos, and it won't be too long before the northern city of Lyvidsten begins to twitch with rumour and turmoil. The vassal states are already recalling Auxilia, and there is two Imperial generals of high influence, enemies by nature leading factions into fervent opposition. A war for power will erupt before long." the soldier said staring into the mead in his cup.

"I take it this is why you are home Arik?" Queried Rigurd.

"Aye father, I was serving with Corvin in a country called Arama. We got word from Iruss to head home. That our commission was rescinded half complete, it then took us a month to get out of that war-torn sand-tundra and the best part of eight months to return to the Highlands."

Rigurd smiled, "Well I'm glad you're home. Been awful quiet without you around. What of Iruss and Corvin, what are their plans?" he asked.

"They are not forthcoming with any plans to my knowledge. They have both returned to Cresta to see their families. I imagine they intend to keep a low profile, until word of the assassination spreads. I think they assume to enjoy themselves for now. Though I have not seen much joy on my travels up the Old North Road, seems times are tough father."

"Aye lad, it all makes sense now. The last six months have been a wee bitter." Uttered the father, "An extra twentieth of the harvests and coin taxes have been climbing steeply. They were high enough to begin with. Now some families have even been left destitute, this close to winter its a death sentence! It appears that the local council lords have received word already and are preparing to quell any angry locals." Spoke the Smith with a hint of resentment in his voice.

"Well father there's not much two men from Risvale can do about it is there. Best to live our lives best we can. The only way I know to do that is here with my family." Arik began as he rose from his seat, "But it appears I have reached my end with the mead and must retire, for fear of becoming maudlin. Goodnight father I am ready for rest."

"Alright Arik, off you go. Do not fill your heads with notions of peace, not after what you have told me. But relax tomorrow. After that, you'll earn ye board." Arik chuckled at his father and half staggered from the room.

Rigurd sighed, he had missed his son becoming a man and he thought he could hear tones of cynicism in the lads attitude despite spouting notions of the quiet life. But he knew war would do that to a man. Tired now, Rigurd moved from the fire which was now no more than embers. He collected the three clay cups and placed them in the stone basin. After restoring the furniture to the correct positions, he doused the two candles illuminating the room and made for bed and his wife.

It was late now, Aern had struggled to sleep. The smell of honey and vinegar hung on Ursla's breath and she held him tight as if he were a toy bear. This stifled Aern and he found it a mild distracting to feel the attractive young woman pressed against his back. None the less, as he lay there in Ursula's drunken embrace and could hear beyond the room the chatter of the reunited father and son. Not clearly but he could tell by the tone that things had become a bit more serious now the hour was late. With the quiet settling into the room, Aern found the excitement of the day to be far too much and regardless of how uncomfortable he felt he began to drift into a deep sleep.

He found himself drifting in darkness, his body a swirling mist. The silence was eerie but somehow it bought him peace. As he floated ever deeper he heard the voice of the old man, locked away in the depths calling to him.

"Don't forget yourself Aern, you are at task. Don't forget." The voice seemed to resonate within hm now, giving him strength. The mist that comprised his being swirled and pulsated seeming to take form in solidity. Aern had his body again and as he realised this, a flood of memories came to him and the darkness faded to light.

He found himself floating above the bed in which he lay, looking down upon the sleeping forms of himself and Ursla he then migrated through the walls into the room with the fire. Here he saw the two men conversing in hushed tones. Moving closer he began to listen intently to what the men were saying. Once the men had finished, they retired. With this Aern drifted back to his body and sank back into the realm of darkness. To sleep heavily comforted and warm