Kael noticed that there was a change in Blanc as they left the forest.
For so reason, he seed larger, as if his back straightened beyond what could’ve been possible.
His head, now looking straight with a confidence that befitted a Noble Blood, as he didn’t turn an eye to the common folk who bowed as they passed.
His path was straight and true. He knew where he was going, and the people made way for his passage.
“Where are we going?” asked Kael.
“The butcher. He will enjoy this stag more than us,” Blanc replied, the playfulness in his voice now replaced by cold calculation, “Ah, lucky us,” he added.
“What do you an?” Kael muttered.
“Mada, excuse ,” Blanc said loudly to a lady who was working the fields a bit of distance away.
“Yes? Ah, Young Lords, what can I do for you?” she replied, panicking once she realized who had just called for her.
“Is your husband around? We have this gift for him.”
“He should be at the house,” she thought, as she got close to them, “but very gracious of you, we thank you for your gift.”
“He helped a lot, do not fret,” he smiled, a bit of that coldness lting away, “well then, we will be heading that way,”
“No, wait, please,” the woman said in a hurry. “Allow my son to take you to him.”
“Very well,” Blanc nodded.
“Gregor, move your butt and show the Young Lords to your father!” yelled the woman, without realizing, “Ah, I’m so sorry for my language.” The butcher’s wife bowed towards Blanc and Kael, as they stared towards her, perhaps shocked.
But after a few seconds, once Kael burst out laughing, Blanc joined him, their laugh echoing all around, making the people working the fields look their way. Before they stopped to talk to the woman.
Kael noticed that the people working had a nervous side to them.
Perhaps because of them, or other unknown reasons, but this, at least, made them lower their guard a bit and show a smile as they watched the scene.
“Uh… Young Lords?” muttered the woman.
“No need to bow,” dismissed Blanc with a wave of his hand. “You seem to have a good relationship with your son.”
“Yes, thank the Vita for that. He is strong and healthy. But lazy and stubborn, I’m telling you! He would rather fool around with girls than help his poor mother and brothers in the field.”
Blanc chuckled, hearing the woman, “May he offer you many grandchildren then.”
“Mother, stop saying such things to the Young Lords,” said a young man, not older than Blanc, as he ran up to his mother, out of breath.
“Gregor,” Blanc nodded.
“My Lords,” bowed Gregor, “let us go. Before Mother starts telling you more… unnecessary things.”
“Yes, let us,” replied Blanc, “Mada, it was a pleasure.”
“Young Lords,” the woman bowed once more as they left.
“Let help you,” said Gregor to Kael, “the beast looks heavy.”
Kael’s eyes went wide, as this was an offer he would not refuse. “Ah, thank you, I’m exhausted-” he replied, but got interrupted.
“No need, Gregor,” said Blanc, “he is fine.”
“Ve- Very well.” Gregor stuttered, an apologetic look on his face as he turned from Kael and took the lead.
“Tell , Gregor,” started Blanc, “is it true?”
“About what?” he replied, a slight panic now in his voice, as he feared Blanc’s answer.
Blanc, with a face as cold as ice, replied, “About what your mother said… lazy, fooling all day with nurous girls, how you left four of them pregnant, how she has to sell brooms to put food on the table for eight more mouths now that you left them pregnant… Gregor, Gregor,” Blanc said, clicking his tongue a few tis, before looking directly into the brown eyes of Gregor, “What are we to do with you?”
"I… Uh, I…" he stamred, panic etched across his face as sweat began to bead on his forehead.
“Yes?” Blanc continued.
“Blanc…” muttered Kael, already feeling pity for Gregor.
As Gregor couldn’t even mutter a word, Blanc concluded this farce of his. “I jest, your mother did not say anything bad about you. Still, make sure not to give your parents too many problems.”
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Hearing this, Gregor exhaled, “Yes, Young Lord. Here we are.”
“Your assistance is appreciated,” replied Blanc, “Now, back to work and try not to leave too many pregnant.”
“Yes!” Gregor nodded wholeheartedly before taking off running.
Once Gregor had made enough distance, Blanc turned to face the house he was next to.
The house lay a fair bit of distance away from the city, as the butcher’s work was considered dirty work.
Yet, it worked in Blanc’s favor.
He had been here before. Many tis, actually.
Yet, this was the first ti he spoke with one of the children and with the butcher’s wife.
The house was primarily made of wood, strong wood, as this house held up for many years, and yet it did not show many signs of falling down soon.
It was made of different parts, as the part of the house the butcher’s family lived in had a different entrance from where the butcher usually used part of his house as his workplace.
“Was it necessary?” Kael asked as he looked at the house.
“I failed to maintain a respectful stance near the common folk, so I had to play a bit,” Blanc chuckled.
“So that’s why you acted differently once we left the forest.” Kael mused.
And Blanc only gave a nod before he started moving again, “Co now, we need to circle the house.”
“I can’t wait to have this carrier off my shoulders,” said Kael, “By the way, what was that all about earlier? Why didn’t you let Gregor carry the stag for a bit?”
“You need to get used to hardship, Kael. Vita isn’t the only way one can get stronger. Working your body and forcing it to its limits also makes you stronger, faster, and healthier. Do not get too complacent.”
“Wisely said, Young Lord,” said an older voice as they approached the back of the house.
“Old man, were you eavesdropping?” asked Blanc.
The old voice was not affected by his accusations, “Nonsense, do not bla my good ears, bla your large tongue.”
“And you dare call wise?” laughed Blanc.
“What did you get for this ti?” asked the old voice, as he soon erged from a room that, if not for the butcher, you would have thought it belonged to Death itself.
But the man who ca out was not looking as scared as his wife or son.
He was closer to the size of a bear, one with a bald head. But his smile threw away every bad thought or fear one might have had looking at him.
“A stag, a gift for you and your family,” replied Blanc, showing it off by moving to the side.
The butcher’s eyes went wide, seeing the animal, “Beautiful beast… poorly killed though,”
“Ah, yes. As it so happened, there were so issues while trying to kill it,” said Blanc while eyeing the beast.
“I see… either way, I am most grateful for your gift, Young Blanc.”
“Nonsense, your dried ats are the best thing there is!” Exclaid Blanc.
His words made the butcher laugh, a hearty, gritty laugh.
“I am happy to hear that. I have so more for you that you can take with you. And for this,” he said, pointing to the stag, “I have a gift to offer you as well. But now, let’s put this stag down, before the Young Lord Kael’s shoulders beco made of glass.”
“Finally…” Kael exhaled as the butcher took the carrier off his shoulder, carrying it together with Blanc to a table outside the house, a few feet away from where they stood..
“Leave it here for now,” said the butcher as they set it down. “And give a few monts to grab the gift and the dried at for you.”
But the warmth of his guest made Blanc uncomfortable, “You know you don’t have to. I brought you this stag as a gift.”
The butcher laughed as he entered the house, “I know,” being the only thing he said as the wooden door was closing behind him.
“Here is the at,” said the butcher, offering a bag to Kael to hold, “and here is my gift to you, Young Blanc.”
Blanc took the wooden box and carefully opened it.
Inside, nestled in white-painted leather, lay a knife.
As he slid it from its sheath, the blade seed to gleam, even without sunlight to catch it.
The steel felt solid and sharp. Very sharp beneath his fingertip.
The handle, carved from an antler, rested comfortably in his grip. It felt natural. Like it belonged there.
“No,” Blanc started, “I can not and will not accept such a precious gift, old man. For Vita’s sake, this could be a family heirloom of yours, and I would believe it.”
The old butcher smiled at Blanc’s words, but his eyes were sowhat sad. “Please,” he started, “do not return a gift already given. Just as much as I gave you, you also gave and my family.”
“But-” Blanc tried to speak.
“Please,” said the butcher, concluding the exchange.
And Blanc didn’t argue any longer, “Fine. I will repay you for this,” putting the knife back in the wooden box.
“If the Young Lord feels like it, an answer to a question I have will compensate for it.”
Blanc curiously agreed to the butcher’s request, “Sure, what question do you have?”
“Is it true the High Monarch is dead?” asked the butcher.
And Blanc was taken aback, his eyes wide with shock at the suddenness and difficulty of the old man’s question.
He did not want to answer. He was sure he would get in trouble if word spread.
He knew panic would ensue, so he had stayed silent about this so far, while his father ca up with the answer to such questions.
While thinking if he should refuse the gift after all, if an answer to this question was the price he would have to pay, his eyes t Kael's, and he realized then that neither of them knew the answer to that question.
As their parents refused to tell such things to children, not out of hopes of keeping them safe from the idea of death, but from their quick mouths, ready to tell anything to anyone for so distraction.
As his brother also looked for an answer, Blanc knew there was no way he could not give an answer now.
So, taking a deep breath, he allowed his mind to go silent for a few seconds before he replied, “Yes, the High Monarch is dead.”
“By the Vita… so it is true,” muttered the butcher.
“Old man, I’ve done my part. Now you must do yours,” Blanc started in a panic, “I promise you now, that if word of this goes out, I will ensure not only you, but your family will suffer as well. Please. Keep this to yourself until the Patriarch lets everyone know.”
“I swear on my children’s eyes this will not leave the three of us,” nodded the butcher.
Blanc nodded, “Farewell, old man, we’ll co back once the situation changes.”
“My Lord,” bowed the butcher.
“It’s ti to go ho, Kael,” said Blanc.
And without a word, Kael followed.
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