father still staring after the back
of his son. His mother stood in her silent role by his side. The earlier look
of disgust changed to hurt on his father’s face and Darius almost felt glad.
Almost. But deep inside he was more hurt than glad. It was his father. The man
who had taught him so much. The man he wanted to please. The man he didn’t like
much right now, but the father he loved and wanted to make proud someday.
He turned his head forward and resumed walking away with his
friends.
Chapter Four
A FATHER’S LAMENT
R ichard San Williams,
councilor to the King, second most powerful man in the entire Realm, walked
away from the archery contest in the bright hot sunlight with his mind filled
with dark thoughts of sadness, disappointment, and hurt. He guessed he deserved
most of it. Richard didn’t even observe his wife, Elizabeth, turning towards
some other friends.
He walked in a random manner, with his head looking at his
dark boots pressing down on the summer grass. He wasn't sure where he was going
until he got there. Now he sat on a dusty old log covered in multiple shades of
green moss and fungus. The log had been in this empty field almost as long as
Richard could remember. Parts of it now crumbled and decayed, turning back once
again into the dirt it had once grown so proudly from. Yet, somehow, the
majority of the log always was there for him to sit on when he needed to think
things out.
The previous winter brought an abnormal amount of rain, and
with the usual summer storms, the brown and green grass in the field
surrounding the log had grown almost knee high. Even with the log hidden in the
tall grass, Richard found the spot easily enough. He took off his purple cape
and laid it across the log in front of him.
Sitting down, memories flooded back into his mind of when he
turned eighteen. Now almost twenty four years ago. He wondered where the time
had gone. He thought back over the years, through scattered thoughts until he
reached that long-ago day.
“But they tease us Father. It’s not fair,” Richard yelled
at his father. “Why don’t you do something with your life?”
Richard’s father, Alric Williams, winced. “Richard, I am happy
and have all I need. I have a fine profession. Being a bricklayer should be
good enough for you too.”
Richard laughed and laughed as his father’s face
reddened. “Good enough for me? Being like you is not good enough for me. You
possess no ambition to be better. You almost seem to be hiding from everyone.
Your family suffers for it and others treat us like the outsiders . . . like we
are worse than the farmers.”
“That’s enough,” his father roared.
“You’re right. This is enough. I can’t take this anymore.
I’m proud to be from Anikari and I am going to make something of myself,
starting today.”
“And what are you going to do?” his father asked.
“Anything, but stay in this house. I would have left long
ago if it hadn’t been for mother being so sick.” His mother had died a few
months before from a two-year sickness that had taken many in the city.
“We own a good house here.”
“We live slightly better than the poorest peasant at the
edge of the city. I want more, father. I want to live up there.” He pointed up
the hill towards the nobles’ district of Anikari. “Not at the edge of the
farmlands. It’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” His father’s face reddened. “Then leave.”
He turned from his father and ran out the door.
He remembered running as hard as ever, finally stopping and
sitting down on a tree that had fallen in a violent summer storm the previous
month. Its wood was hard and held a deep, rich brown color back then.
This was where he found himself every time he had an
important decision. It was why he was here today. Sitting on this same tree in
the same field which somehow always remained for him to go to when he had
problems. All around him the city grew with settlers from
of his son. His mother stood in her silent role by his side. The earlier look
of disgust changed to hurt on his father’s face and Darius almost felt glad.
Almost. But deep inside he was more hurt than glad. It was his father. The man
who had taught him so much. The man he wanted to please. The man he didn’t like
much right now, but the father he loved and wanted to make proud someday.
He turned his head forward and resumed walking away with his
friends.
Chapter Four
A FATHER’S LAMENT
R ichard San Williams,
councilor to the King, second most powerful man in the entire Realm, walked
away from the archery contest in the bright hot sunlight with his mind filled
with dark thoughts of sadness, disappointment, and hurt. He guessed he deserved
most of it. Richard didn’t even observe his wife, Elizabeth, turning towards
some other friends.
He walked in a random manner, with his head looking at his
dark boots pressing down on the summer grass. He wasn't sure where he was going
until he got there. Now he sat on a dusty old log covered in multiple shades of
green moss and fungus. The log had been in this empty field almost as long as
Richard could remember. Parts of it now crumbled and decayed, turning back once
again into the dirt it had once grown so proudly from. Yet, somehow, the
majority of the log always was there for him to sit on when he needed to think
things out.
The previous winter brought an abnormal amount of rain, and
with the usual summer storms, the brown and green grass in the field
surrounding the log had grown almost knee high. Even with the log hidden in the
tall grass, Richard found the spot easily enough. He took off his purple cape
and laid it across the log in front of him.
Sitting down, memories flooded back into his mind of when he
turned eighteen. Now almost twenty four years ago. He wondered where the time
had gone. He thought back over the years, through scattered thoughts until he
reached that long-ago day.
“But they tease us Father. It’s not fair,” Richard yelled
at his father. “Why don’t you do something with your life?”
Richard’s father, Alric Williams, winced. “Richard, I am happy
and have all I need. I have a fine profession. Being a bricklayer should be
good enough for you too.”
Richard laughed and laughed as his father’s face
reddened. “Good enough for me? Being like you is not good enough for me. You
possess no ambition to be better. You almost seem to be hiding from everyone.
Your family suffers for it and others treat us like the outsiders . . . like we
are worse than the farmers.”
“That’s enough,” his father roared.
“You’re right. This is enough. I can’t take this anymore.
I’m proud to be from Anikari and I am going to make something of myself,
starting today.”
“And what are you going to do?” his father asked.
“Anything, but stay in this house. I would have left long
ago if it hadn’t been for mother being so sick.” His mother had died a few
months before from a two-year sickness that had taken many in the city.
“We own a good house here.”
“We live slightly better than the poorest peasant at the
edge of the city. I want more, father. I want to live up there.” He pointed up
the hill towards the nobles’ district of Anikari. “Not at the edge of the
farmlands. It’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” His father’s face reddened. “Then leave.”
He turned from his father and ran out the door.
He remembered running as hard as ever, finally stopping and
sitting down on a tree that had fallen in a violent summer storm the previous
month. Its wood was hard and held a deep, rich brown color back then.
This was where he found himself every time he had an
important decision. It was why he was here today. Sitting on this same tree in
the same field which somehow always remained for him to go to when he had
problems. All around him the city grew with settlers from
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