Alain gritted his teeth as he strained at the strap. He looked down to see how much further the prong was from the hole and saw that it was a lost cause. He released the tension and took a moment to catch his breath. Argan, who was sitting in front of him, exhaled and turned around to give his son a rueful look.

  “I suppose I’ve gained a little weight since I retired,” he sighed, looking down at the cuirass that they were trying to strap around his chest. “I suppose I’ll have to do some serious dieting while we are on our journey…”

  Alain mopped the sweat from his brow and eyed his father. They were both bathed in sweat from the exertion of trying to squeeze his father into his old armour. The house had been a hive of activity as curious neighbours swarmed in after the King’s procession left, asking what was going on, but today, the Sumner men were alone, and it was almost eerily quiet.

  “So, you were a warrior, and quite the renown one at that,” Alain remarked at length. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I left that life behind when you were born,” Argan said. He turned around and gave his son an apologetic look. “I said some unkind things to you yesterday. I’m sorry, I was terrified you would go charging out the door after your mother…”

  “But mother didn’t,” Alain observed, wanting to move past it. “Didn’t leave that life behind, I mean.”

  Argan’s lips curled up into a faint smile. “Well, one of us had to keep working to put food on the table, and she said it was a matter of time before I got myself killed with the way I fought. She figured being a mage, she would be able to control battles from a distance and had a better chance of coming home in one piece.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Alain allowed as he eyed the back of his father’s head. For as long as the boy could remember, the people of Gestarnia thought Argan Sumner was a useless layabout who merely sponged off his wife’s income. Argan had never said a word to correct them, and so Alain assumed it was true.

  “Still, you could have said something,” he began.

  Argan waved his hand in front of his face. “There would have been no benefit besides to stroke my own ego."

  He turned to look at Alain and smiled. “Your mother and I always thought it important that at least one of us stayed home to raise you. My only regret is that I won’t be here for your coming of age.”

  Alain blinked. He had forgotten about it in all the excitement. “It’s only next week. Perhaps I could travel with you until…”

  Argan shook his head. “No, it’s dangerous out there, and it’s not what your mother would have wanted.”

  Alain felt bitter disappointment but bit his lip as his father placed his hands around his shoulders and looked him in the eye.

  “Promise me you’ll behave yourself,” Argan turned around to face his son. “Listen to Randal and Indina and I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Will you?” Alain asked, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry about your old man,” Argan said with a confident grin. “I am confident in my ability to run at the first sign of trouble.”

  “I will miss you,” Alain said.

  “And I’ll miss you too,” Argan replied, embracing his son. “Now promise me.”

  “I promise,” Alain sighed. As he felt his father’s warmth, Alain decided to ask the question that had nagged at him all night. “Do you really think Mother is dead?”

  There was a pause, and then a weary sigh. Argan pulled himself away and looked his son in the eye before replying. “I believe that there isn’t a force in this world capable of keeping her from at least sending word back to us for more than three years if she was alive.”

  “But what if…” Alain began.

  Argan ruffled his hair and got to his feet. “You were the most important thing to her. You are the most important thing to me. The last thing either of us have ever wanted was for harm to come to you.”

  There was a sharp knock at the door, and Argan blinked. “That will be Randal here to pick me up. Will you see me to the edge of town?”

  “And further if you will allow it,” Alain declared.

  Argan looked at the scattered pieces of armour and sighed before stooping to pick them up. “I wanted to leave town wearing that, you know, to at least try to look the part of a hero embarking on an adventure, but I suppose my trusty old cloak will have to do.”

  Alain walked over to retrieve his father’s travelling cloak from its peg by the door and paused to look at him over at his shoulder. He couldn’t think of someone who looked less like the part of a hero about to embark on an epic journey. His hair was patchy, and as he looked down, his double chins were on full display. His tunic was threadbare and looked like it was about to split apart from the immense bulk it was being asked to contain. Just another middle aged common man, perhaps in worse physical shape than most.

  “This was the only one I could find,” the boy said, clutching the travelworn garment in his hands. It was brown and sported numerous patches. “I’m afraid this won’t make you look the part either.”

  “Then I shall have to settle for leaving town with my dignity intact,” Argan grinned.

  There was another knock at the door, and Argan cocked his head. “Maybe you should answer the door before old Randal knocks it down, eh?”

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  Alain opened the door to reveal the white clad warrior, tapping his foot impatiently with his helmet tucked under his arm. “Is he still not ready? He is supposed to leave at midday.”

  “Just about,” Argan called. His voice was followed by the clattering of metal as he dumped the pieces of armour into a large sack which he then slung over his shoulder. “No need to bite the boy’s head off. It’s not his fault.”

  The elder Sumner appeared at the door and frowned. “I thought I left my sword in your keeping.”

  A wry smile crossed Randal’s face. “I didn’t think you would come, but I’ve sent for it. It should meet you in Dorvin’s Hollow. You cost me a pretty penny, you know.”

  “Betting against your old friend?” Argan ventured, giving him a hurt look.

  “I know you, old friend,” Randal shrugged before turning his gaze on Alain, causing the boy to take a step back. “I suppose you are more to blame for my lost bet.”

  “Lay off my son,” there was an edge to Argan’s voice. “I am leaving him in your care.”

  “And safe is how I shall keep him, on my honour,” Randal declared. “Forgive me for being a little ornery at being left behind on this grand endeavour. Andrea is an old friend of mine as you well know.”

  Argan clapped the white clad warrior on the shoulder. “The boy is the most important thing to both of us.”

  “I know, I know,” Randal sighed before turning around. “Come now, the others are waiting.”

  Argan turned around to take a long hard look at his home, and Alain found himself hoping that his father would change his mind and stay back after all. Then, he quickly remembered why he was setting out in the first place. He watched his father and debated saying something. At length, the boy bit his lip. His mother was out there, alive. He knew it.

  “I’m coming,” Argan sighed before patting Alain on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Together, they trudged down the street, attracting stares. Eldrick was there with his family, standing on the edge of their garden. They waved stiffly at Alain when their eyes met, but didn’t say a word.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” Argan said. “Please help look after my house while I’m gone.”

  Eldrick’s father, Frali, nodded but didn’t say a word. Argan turned to Randal and arched an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were afraid of you.”

  Randal cleared his throat awkwardly before admitting. “I may have ordered them not to make a fuss under pain of capital punishment.”

  “Ah,” Argan frowned. “I suppose we shall have to sponsor the next harvest festival when I get back to smooth things over.”

  Randal grunted as they approached the end of the street. “I don’t think it’s necessary, but it’s your money.”

  Alain looked up and found Gratia standing in her doorway with her mother by her side. As they approached, Indina stepped forward and embraced Argan, drawing a look of surprise from Randal, and ones of disgust from Alain and Gratia.

  “I do hope you find your wife,” she said.

  “So do I,” Argan’s voice was hoarse, and his face was flush.

  “Disgusting old man,” Alain muttered while Gratia pulled her mother back by the arm.

  “You’re creating a scene, Mother!” Gratia hissed. “What will father think when he hears about this from the neighbours?”

  “That he should spend more time with his beautiful wife and daughter,” Indina sniffed before turning back to Argan. “I do hope you come back soon.”

  “Oh, I will,” Argan said. There was a sloppy grin on his face that made Alain fume.

  “Come on,” he said through gritted teeth as he took his father by the arm and attempted to drag his immense bulk around the corner.

  “She served tea at your house yesterday, didn’t she?” Randal asked once they were out of earshot. “Want to tell me what’s going on there?”

  “Oh, just two lonely adults who know where their boundaries are,” Argan replied absently.

  “We’ll see what Mother has to say about that when she comes back,” Alain sniffed.

  “My conscience is clear,” Argan declared before giving his son a sly look. “I’m more interested in what’s going on between you and Indina’s girl. The two of you seem to be spending a lot of time together, alone in the woods.”

  “It’s just training. Sword training!” Alain snapped.

  Argan blinked. “Is that what you youths call it? I hope you’re being responsible. I don’t want Mister Laevis coming after you.”

  Alain felt the blood rush to his face. “There is no innuendo, you dirty minded old fool!”

  “Oh, you want to become a swordsman like your father?” Randal ventured, unable to hide his amused grin.

  “I didn’t know he was a swordsman until yesterday, but yes, I would like to become a warrior of renown,” Alain declared.

  Randal gave Alain a sideways look before glancing at his father. “Well… I wish you luck.”

  “You are a warrior, aren’t you?” Alain asked, looking up at the white clad man. “Could you train me while father is gone?”

  Randal exchanged looks with Argan before sighing. “It would be best if you let your body fill in a little more. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m hardier than I look,” Alain insisted.

  Randal sighed. “Then we will play it by ear, but I can make no promises.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Alain said, ignoring the troubled look his father was giving him. He knew he was small and frail, but that wasn’t about to deter him from becoming a mighty warrior capable of going out in search of his mother.

  They walked through town silently, conscious of the gaggle of people that had gathered at every window along the way, who would no doubt be straining their ears to hear every word any one of them said. When they reached the Ensli bridged which marked the town’s border, Argan stopped and gave Randal a curious look.

  “The people of Gestarnia are a curious bunch. You didn’t go door to door all over town to threaten them, did you?”

  Randal shrugged. “It wasn’t just me. The King himself gathered them in the town square after he left yesterday and warned them to give the mighty Ogre the respect he deserves. I suppose this is how they took it.”

  “We’ll have to sponsor the harvest festival for five years in a row at this rate,” Argan sighed. He then turned to Alain and embraced the boy warmly. “I’ve become accustomed to being the one said goodbye to whenever your mother set out for work. It feels strange to be the one saying goodbye this time around.”

  Alain took a deep breath and willed the tears back, wanting to look brave for his father. “Everything will be as you left it when you return. Please come back soon.”

  “I wish I could have stayed until your coming of age, but it seems fate had other plans,” Argan said before pulling back to ruffle Alain’s hair. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  He then turned to the white clad warrior and shook his hand firmly. “Randal, I am leaving my home and my son in your care.”

  “I once kept Castle Greysky safe from the Locklane’s army for forty days, remember?” Randal grinned. “This will be nothing in comparison.”

  “I will see you soon, and we’ll have plenty of stories to exchange when next we meet,” Argan promised.

  With that, the elder Sumner set off across the rickety wooden bridge. Alain had seen his mother disappear over it many times over the years, but there was something heart wrenching about seeing his father do the same. Now that he was departing, Alain realized that the old man had been the one constant in his life. There were dozens of things he wanted to say but was unable to articulate the words. He watched his father disappear over the bridge without turning around.

  “Trust your father,” Randal said, as though sensing Alain’s anguish. “You will see him again.”

  Alain nodded and his brave fa?ade crumbled. Tears flowed freely as though a dam had been burst as he stared at the bridge.

  At length, Randal sighed. “Say, where’s the best tavern in town? I spent the evening at the Pig’s Whistle and the swill they had on tap was little better than carbonated piss.”