2410 Strilaxis 05, Reshpe

Showing his face to anyone not his mother had been challenging but it was getting more bearable each passing day. Today was yet another hurdle since it was time for another inventory assessment in the Nobility region.

This time, however, it wasn't in the Graynon Estate. Nyxis made a deal with the head of the Duchy to set the venue on the place nearest the border to the Commons. No one complained. He didn't think any of them had the gall to considering Nyxis had to practically beg them.

He owed a visit to Xalim. It had been too long since he had seen her last. Besides, she needed to know that whatever was happening in the Commons wasn't his fault. Perhaps, he should visit Tobin as well, wherever his farm was. When he asked Xalim, she claimed Tobin and his family lived near the border towards the Nobility. If that's the case, maybe Nyxis would be able to reach Tobin first.

He wasn't counting on getting lost this time. It should be easy to locate his family's farm considering there weren't a lot of farming families in Cardina. The soil wasn't that fertile to guarantee a good harvest anyway.

Now, Nyxis was walking through rows upon rows of tall plants he knew to be ovone. He had the chance of tasting one when he was young and the sight of blue, purple, and pink kernels its fruits were known to have was something he wouldn't forget. He passed more plots of pumkess bushes, noting how plump some of the dark red and orange fruits were. Ajilte vines waved at him from their netting, climbing through criss-crossing strands of string to get the best sunlight of the day.

On the horizon, he spotted a single shed made out of flimsy sheet of wood. Dried leaves were stitched together and functioned as a roof. A hulking man dressed in a large tunic speared a rake into a pile of dried straw made from ovone leaves, his long sleeves folded to his elbows.

Nyxis came near the wooden fence made of dried ovone stems nailed in various angles and directions. The man sensed the movement and turned to him. The rake stopped a few inches away from the rim of the pile of straw.

"Hi," Nyxis raised a hand in greeting as he often saw the Commons did. He made sure to slip into a regional accent as well. This time, to avoid being mugged on the way to Xalim's place, he dressed in simple (but scratchy) tunic and trousers. "Is Tobin around?"

The older man gave Nyxis a quick study. Judging from how his bushy eyebrows were drawn together and how his moustache seemed to twitch in distate, he wasn't happy to get visitors. Like Tobin, he had orange curls sitting atop his head. All similarities to the boy ended there. Muscles bulged from the man's arm. His height alone could diminish Nyxis's lifespan in half. Last but not the least, his voice was deep and rumbly when he said, "In the back."

Nyxis blinked. What back?

"Father, one of the lemper needed a quick bandage to its leg. I might have scratched it when I was shearing," Tobin's familiar voice bled from somewhere behind the shed. Finally, an orange head peeped off the shed's side. After a few seconds, Tobin's scrawny frame sped into view. "The dagrine also needed a—"

He stopped in his tracks upon noticing Nyxis. The man, who must have been Tobin's father, grunted and jerked his chin in Nyxis's direction. "You have a guest."

Tobin blinked. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. Then, he smiled at Nyxis. "Nice of you to drop by!"

Within the next few minutes, Nyxis was ushered inside the shed whose door screamed in suffering when Tobin pulled it open. Wouldn't it fall off its hinges at any second? Tobin shooed Nyxis into one of the stools by a table which must have been where they eat their meals. There wasn't anything else inside, anyway.

"Wait here," Tobin told him. "I will go and prepare you some warm drink."

And off he went, disappearing past the corner sporting all assortments of folded sheets and lumpy mattresses. Were they sleeping in the kitchen floor? True enough, the only space big enough for those mattresses were the spot beyond the counter containing all sorts of cooking utemsils, pots, and pans. A door to a furnace was locked shut, the only dark square amidst a sea of whitish bricks.

"Here you go, Your Highness," Tobin laid a cup of steaming tea in front of Nyxis. "Would you rather me not calling you that?" he said after noticing Nyxis flinch.

Nyxis wrapped his hand around the wooden cup. As expected, it heated his skin but didn't scald it. "Yes, please refrain from calling me that outside the Palace," he leaned over from Tobin's side. The man he saw earlier was nowhere to be seen, even through the shed's door Tobin had propped open a while ago to let some outside light stream inside. "There might be people listening."

Tobin waved a hand in the air, taking the stool opposite Nyxis. There were only two of them anyway. "Do not worry about it," the shepherd said. "My father can keep a secret. He has a ton of them. I am sure he could keep yours too."

Nyxis's gut twisted at that statement. He opened his mouth to caution Tobin but the boy had plowed on. "What brings you here, anyway?" he said. "And can you believe it? I have a royal having tea in the house! Gods of Calaris. This sounds so unreal."

"Oh, mm," Nyxis took a sip of his tea, relishing the bitter taste it flushed down his throat. That might hide the bile climbing up from his stomach. "I am actually on my way to Xalim. I thought I should drop by here since it is on the way. How have you been?"

Tobin snorted. "I am fine," he said. "Life is good. There might not be a lot of demands for lemper milk but we will get by. We have to. We would just have to put off buying a new roof for next year if this continues. With all the chaos in the Commons—"

"Chaos?"

The shepherd bobbed his head, his curls swaying with the motion. "The purges are growing more and more frequent at this point in the year," he said. The mention of the horrifying practice set Nyxis's stomach churning. "It is like the Civil Guards have a quota to keep like we have in vulkraine eggs, if you know what I mean."

Nyxis didn't reply. He just tipped his head back and downed the rest of his hot tea. It helped keeping the guilt at bay. As he brought his head down, something caught the sun's glint and flashed in his eye. He set the cup on the table and stood up.

"Nyxis?" Tobin asked, his name so casual on the shepherd's tongue.

His voice faded in Nyxis's ears as he raised a finger and pointed to the thing that bothered him. "Why do you have that?" he asked, turning to his friend in askance. Tobin followed his gaze, and together, they stared at the single sheathed sword wedged between the gardening tools strewn beside the furnace. A single crest shone in the blade's guard.

The Crest of Cardina.

Despite the worn and dented metal of the hilt and the pommel, it was something Nyxis wouldn't fail to recognize anywhere. He had seen that symbol waving from the flags atop the spires every day of his life. What was that doing in a shoddy shack in the Commons? "Tobin, why do you have that?" he asked his friend again.

Tobin rolled his shoulders. "It belonged to my great grandfather," he looked to the left as if his ancestor was there. "I think. Why were you so fixated on that?"

Nyxis opened his mouth to speak but Tobin beat him to it again. "You should be worrying about Xalim, if I were you," the shepherd said.

Some part of Nyxis snapped into attention. "What do you mean?"

Tobin leveled his gaze at him like he knew something Nyxis didn't.

"Xalim Resthen is a half-blood."