The Captain's Vow

Apologies, no beta tonight. Used to having someone smarter combing out the stupid.

CHAPTER SEVEN
Alone

Rennar threw himself into work. He decided to build a palisade around the growing amount of houses and shops outside the keep’s actual fortifications. More protection meant more residents and commerce, and in general, a more thriving holding.

As a battle page rather than body servant, Wylim remained quartered with the others like himself, put to various chores by day and free to socialize at night.

Rennar spent hours laboring, sweating bare-chested and in shortened breeches under the warm sun his ward had predicted to follow the rains. He worked until he could barely manage to bathe, eat a simple meal and fall into bed. All the same, young Arelia’s parting words from that night haunted him terribly.

“I stand assured that steels your resolve for this night. Be assured it shall not influence my forgiveness when you break and decide to indulge.”

Not that he intended to give in to this unprecedented temptation. All the same, what in the name of gods and goddesses had the aggravating git meant? Influence forgiving or influencing him not to forgive?

“Sir Rennar?”

Hearing his name caused him to snap back to the task at hand. “Apologies, Drayden.” He picked up the heavy hammer, addressing the fellow soldier who steadied the post he needed to pound into the ground. He swung the hammer, driving the sharpened wood pole in a single effort.

That night, he returned to his chambers bloodied by various minor mishaps, the sort associated with physical toil and construction. He entered, seeing his foster ward seated upon one of the solar’s benches. Young Arelia stared out over the bailey, into the deepening dusk.

Feeling awkward, Rennar greeted, “Good eventide.”

“To you, as well,” came the quiet response.

Rennar went about his rituals of cleanliness, called for bread and cheese to stave off hunger before falling into bed.

Just as he drifted off into the arms of the dream god, he wondered why Arelia had not met his gaze.

“Sir Rennar, your foster charge has gone missing!”

That brought him up short as he inspected a brace of war horses offered by a traveling merchant. “Take some ease, Wylim,” he advised, seeing the battle page’s lack of wind.

Wylim leaned forward, bracing his hands upon his knees as he dragged in air. “You assigned Drayden, leader of the longswordsmen, to defend your foster.” He panted a bit. “After lack of answer, Drayden broke through the barred door to find your chambers empty.”

Rennar indicated a pass on the animals. As they and their peddler filed by, he queried, “Did Drayden examine the rooms for indications of force or flee?” Young Arelia’s status as first born made him quite valuable.

Standing straight, he replied, “Drayden believes Arelia departed unseen on his own.”

“Gratitude, Wylim. I shall saddle my mount and seek Arelia before any general talk or alarm is raised. Extend this to Drayden.”

He readied his horse, checking the stallion’s hooves before mounting. Then, he swung astride and set the mount off at a trot toward the portcullis. The guards lifted the iron gate without question.

Waning evening sunlight shone. Rennar kept his gaze on the land, tracking back and forth until he picked up a trail. It appeared fresh. He followed it to a point where the rains had kept the ground moist despite sunny days. Seeming the approximate weight indication for his foster charge, the prints led to a stone cottage on a clear, rippling creek.

Rennar dismounted, tethered his horse to a provided bar on wooden stands, and walked up to the front entrance. Rapping once, he tested the knob. He found it unlocked and turned the knob. “Young Arelia?”

The opening door revealed a small receiving room with worn, inviting furniture. A low blaze burned in the stone hearth. Rennar entered, shutting and barring the door at his back. He walked in a few paces, saw a kitchen off to the right with a set of double doors that appeared to lead out of doors. The sound of the water became stronger as he strode toward them. Pushing them wide as well, he saw the target of his hunt seated on a large rock at the creek’s edge.

Relief swept him. Rennar knew he could ill afford losing so valuable a charge.

He also suffered a jolt of some obscure emotion.

Never before had he witnessed such desolation. Not actual sadness, suffering or a wounded body. Desolation. It processed slowly in his mind to then stab his heart.

Trying for an unruffled mien, Rennar said, “You worried us.”

His pale hair caught the waning sun. “Of course. My value necessitates concern for the loss.”

Rennar swiped a gloved hand over his head. “I feared for you, young Arelia.”

The other boy’s - man’s - reaction proved unexpected. He rose and charged like a soldier. Cerulean eyes ablaze, Arelia shoved Rennar backward into the kitchen. “You feared for reporting to your superior.”

Glancing down at the fistfuls of tunic Arelia gripped, he then met the other man’s gaze. “With what slight do you charge me?”

“Cruelty!” The word emerged like a gauntlet to the face. “Of the worst sort.”

His back to a cabinets and a work surface, Rennar returned candidly, “I have treated you gently even in the face of my own temper and lust.”

“Aye!” He twisted the garment tighter, glaring upward. “You honor your place representing your fealty lord. You treat me with the kindness and respect I have longed for my entire life, from everyone in my life.” His bright eyes seemed to blaze with wrath. “Yet, you set me aside. Mistreated me.”

Rennar did not avert his attention, or seek to dislodge Arelia’s hold. “Where’s the cruelty? As a knight I am sworn to a code of conduct that repudiates such behavior.”

This appeared to incense Arelia further. “So long as I can recall, I have occupied the role of political asset and pawn. Once I grew and my physical beauty bloomed, I acted as the former, as well as a vessel for emptying lust.”

Moved to defend himself, Rennar shot back, “Have I not refused to treat you thusly?”

The smaller man leaned into him, releasing his hold and reaching up to cup his jaw. “There is the cruelty. To offer what I long for most, yet dangle it beyond my reach.”

“Young Arelia,” he began, moved to uncomfortable emotion. The slap to his face truly astonished him. He pushed the other man away, yet cautious of the differences in their bodies.

“My name is Silvanos. Silvanos.” His voice held a cold quality that had never come through previously. “Not ‘Young Arelia’. Not ‘Arelia’, and certainly not ‘boy’.”

Cheek stinging, Rennar nodded. “Very well, Silvanos, the hour grows late in an area far from defensive position. We return to the keep.” He extinguished the fire and waited for his charge outside. When he emerged, Silvanos remained silent as he mounted behind Rennar.


Following the evening meal and a bath, Rennar went to Katrine’s apartment. He knocked lightly. She opened at once.

Smiling and stepping back to swing the portal wide, she greeted, “Sir Rennar, I always count the moments until you return to me.”

Although he refused to consider why, he felt the visit more of an obligation than self-indulgence.