Knight & Squire: Reconciliation

“Rowan, you’re putting the wrong plant in your basket again. Maybe we should stop.”

Kayla’s calm, clear voice was like a slap in the face. Rowan snapped to attention, “I’m…I’m sorry, Fizzy.”

Kayla reached into his basket and took it out: a dark purple flower with an emerald-green stem and matching leaves. “This is the Meridellian iris.” She held it up to his face. “It’s a beautiful specimen, but it’s useless for potion making. It has a potent poison that’s untouched by the compounding process and causes stomach problems if ingested. That’s the last thing we want.”

“Mm-hmm,” came the laconic reply.

Kayla frowned as she began to study Rowan more closely. His eyes had glazed over again. Was she boring him? The prickly squire was no scholar, but he’d never been this quiet before. And his unfocused gaze seemed anxious. “Hey, Rowan,” she snapped her fingers inches from his face. “Hello?!”

“Bah!” Rowan’s amber eyes bulged. “What’d I do?!”

Kayla bit the inside of her cheek, “Nothing. That’s the problem. What’s going on with you today?”

Rowan sighed and scratched behind his left ear, “I’m sorry, Fizzy.”

Kayla shook her head, “You didn’t answer my question.”

The Green Ogrin looked down at his feet briefly, “I have a lot on my mind, okay? I’m sorry if I’m ruining this week’s potion ingredient outing.”

Three times. He had apologized three times in the span of a few sentences. This wasn’t like him at all, and it was starting to become concerning. “Are you feeling unwell?” she asked.

“You could say that,” he admitted. “I’m not physically sick, though.”

Ah, that was probably it. Time to test her theory: “You’re seeing your aunt and uncle soon, right?”

Rowan grimaced, “Yeah, I’m seeing them tomorrow.” He paused before sighing in exasperation, “How on Neopia do you know that Fizzy?”

Kayla gave Rowan a sheepish look, “You had to get Jeran’s permission before going on leave. Jeran and Lisha tell each other everything. Then, Lisha told me. Sorry.”

Rowan grumbled under his breath. Something about a blathering, four-eyed sorceress who couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. “It’s not your fault, Fizzy. Turn Lisha into a Mortog for a day, and we’ll be even.”

Kayla couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but she understood his irritation. Jeran should’ve kept that private, and Lisha shouldn’t have told her. But the Kadoatie was out of the bag now. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe it will help you feel better.”

Rowan began hugging himself, “No.” He tapped his right foot, “But, talking about it would probably be best. Keeping this bottled up seems like a bad idea.”

Kayla smiled, “Lake Serenity isn’t far away. Let’s sit there, and you can talk whenever you’re ready.”

A few moments later

Rowan stared at the crystalline water. His ears twitched as he picked up the faint sound of birdsong. Were those Beakadoodle? He shook his head and grumbled to himself; he couldn’t enjoy the calm.

He opened his eyes to glance at Kayla. The Red Zafara was also staring at the lake. Rowan’s left eyebrow quirked. He had to give credit where it was due: at least Fizzy had the decency to let the silence linger. Unlike a certain four-eyed sorceress, she wasn’t nearly as chatty. Her reservedness was calming. Though he’d rather kneel before Jeran and shower him with compliments before he’d admit that.

Rowan sighed before turning to face her, “I ran away shortly after my 10th birthday. It was after we heard Father had died. I think I’ve told you that before.”

Kayla nodded, “I remember. You’d told me about the events leading up to it, including when your family received the awful news. Then, I offered to take you ingredient hunting with me after you finished telling me. To say you needed a distraction would have been a gross understatement.”

“So, that’s where this weekly thing came from? I guess I must’ve forgotten.” He grimaced, “Fyora, that’s dark.”

Kayla smiled sympathetically, “Yes, it is, but I’m hoping these outings aren’t coloured by those same shadows. Anyway, please continue.”

“They aren’t, Fizzy,” he answered. Rowan turned away to stare at the lake again. “I didn’t even say goodbye. I wasn’t thinking about my actions then because I was too angry. But now…” He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, “It was a stupid decision because I hurt them.” He exhaled through his teeth, “Uncle Desmond had lost his brother. Aunt Elaine loved Father like a brother, so she was in the same boat. Tristan severed ties with the family shortly before Father left for the Second War; I was the only one left.” He balled his hands into fists, “And, what did I do? I ran away.”

Kayla scooted closer and placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, unphased when the Green Ogrin flinched at the sudden contact. “You were a child, Rowan. One who had recently endured the unthinkable.” She paused briefly, “Are you afraid they’ll be angry with you for running away?”

Rowan turned towards her again, letting her hand drop from his shoulder, “Yeah.”

Kayla fiddled with the collar on her dark blue frock, “That makes sense. I can’t speak for them, but I’d like to think they’d be elated to see you alive. To be with you again.”

Rowan’s shoulders drooped, “Yeah, me too. I don’t know…”

She needed to help him out of this funk. It was painful to see a friend like this. She stood and looked at the oranges and reds of the sunset briefly before speaking, “Let’s start heading back, Rowan. Brooding is unhealthy.”

The Green Ogrin stood up and dusted off his brown trousers, “You’re right, Fizzy.” He sighed, “I’m probably going to turn in early anyway.”

“How about I whip up some chamomile tea to help you sleep tonight?” Kayla offered.

Rowan gave her a small smile, “That would be great. Thanks, Kayla.”

The next morning, 10:00 a.m. NST

Rowan fastened his belt buckle before checking the ornamental basket-hilted sword that hung from his left hip, “Hopefully this thing won’t dig into my thigh during the ride,” he mumbled to himself. His ears swivelled toward the angry noises coming from the barracks’ main room. “Sound like somebody shoulda folded,” he remarked with a smirk as he walked by a group of guards immersed in a card game.

“Ack, shut yer gob!” one of them shot back.

Rowan chuckled as he walked outside to meet his carriage. Meridellians sure liked to gamble. He’d join in occasionally, provided Mr. Perfect wasn’t nearby. His amusement evaporated as he saw his azure-furred superior standing near the training yard’s exit. Rowan huffed, “What are you doing here, Mr. Perfect? Don’t you have better things to do than babysit?”

Jeran said nothing as he scrutinized his squire’s attire: a starched, long-sleeved white shirt and a black vest with silver buttons. Black breeches tucked into matching boots completed the ensemble.

“Stop ogling, Mr. Perfect. It’s making me uncomfortable,” Rowan protested.

Jeran rolled his eyes, “I’m not ogling, Rowan. But it is my responsibility to make sure your outfit is well kept. What you wear reflects the Order of the Knights of Meridell, and we have a reputation to maintain. Not to mention you’re my direct responsibility.”

Rowan scowled, “I’m not a knight, Mr. Perfect. Nor am I ever going to be one. This doesn’t apply to me.”

“On the contrary, Rowan,” Jeran refuted, “Squires are under the direct authority of the Order. They’re not fully initiated yet.” Jeran smirked, “Or did you forget?”

“More like blocked it out of my mind,” Rowan parried. “Besides, I take offence to the fact you seem to think I’d see my aunt and uncle in casual clothing.”

Jeran’s smirk faded as the seriousness of the situation set in. “That makes sense. Are you nervous?”

Rowan snorted, “No, Mr. Perfect. I’m as serene as a leaf on the wind.” His scowl deepened, “Of course, I’m nervous! I haven’t seen them in over 5 years!”

Jeran winced, “I’m sorry, Rowan. That was a stupid question.” His face softened, “I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed to see you. It will be as if you’d returned from the dead.”

Rowan shook his head, “You can’t know that for sure.”

Jeran nodded, “You’re right. I can’t know for sure, but it pays to be positive.” The azure-furred Lupe closed his eyes, “I also know what’s it like to return from the dead, so to speak.” He opened his them, “The joy on your loved one’s face when they see you’ve ‘returned,’ cannot be described.”

Rowan swallowed as he stared at his superior. He couldn’t argue with that.

Clip-clop, clip-clop

“The carriage is here; I’ll walk you to it.”

12:00 p.m. NST

The intermittent bumps were normally like a lullaby to Rowan. But he was too restless to sleep. He placed a hand on his chest and took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now.

“We’re nearing the Chalk Cliffs, sir,” the carriage driver informed.

Thump, thump. Rowan’s heart pounded. The Green Ogrin stared out the window, trying to distract himself. Unlike most of Meridell’s arable, rolling hills, House Albion’s lands were composed of flat, barren ground. For generations, her scions made their names and fortunes as knights. The bloodline also had a few mages, but that was the exception. He squinted. I can see the drop-off on the horizon. The Cliffs will come into view any second. He steeled himself with another deep breath as his mind began to wander.

The Chalk Cliffs were a notable landmark: imposing precipices that seemed to swan dive into Meridell’s rough seas, their faces bone white. Technically, they were under the Crown’s authority, but the monarch at the time had allowed the family to remain there in recognition of their service. According to a family legend, House Albion’s founder had fled to the Cliffs with his wife amid some sort of political intrigue. However, the mists of time had long obscured the exact details. The Cliffs were their symbol, etched into their family tree through their surname. Her sons and daughters were expected to be like them: dignified and unflappable. Unyielding no matter what waves crashed into them.

“We’re here, sir,” the carriage driver’s voice yanked Rowan from his thoughts. The Green Ogrin gulped as he opened the door and stepped onto the dusty ground.

Rowan’s heart continued to pound as he approached the manor’s great, wooden door. Coming home was supposed to be sweet, but all he could feel was a hollow ache in his stomach.

I gotta stop stalling. The Green Ogrin straightened and took the Noil-shaped knocker in his right hand.

Knock, knock. The clang of metal reminded him of clashing swords.

“Hang on a tick! I’ll be right there!” a familiar voice responded.

Rowan balled his hands into fists. Here we go.

The right door opened, revealing a portly yellow Chia with frizzy red hair. Her jaw dropped to the floor and her eyes almost shot open as she stared at him, “Master Rowan!” she exclaimed.

Rowan tried to smile, “Hello, Ms. Alice. I-I’m ba—.”

The door slammed in his face. That hadn’t gone well. She must have been furious with him. If that was her reaction, he shuddered to think about Uncle Desmond’s response. He’d probably have him thrown out.

The door reopened, revealing a burly, Yellow Kougra. His expression was unreadable as he stared at his nephew.

Rowan gulped hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “Uncle, I don’t know where to begin… I-I’ve returned to you and Aunt Elaine. To House Albion.” He paused as he struggled to form sentences. “I hurt you both, and it was right after we lost Father.” He exhaled shakily as his vision blurred. “I’m sorry!” Tears began to fall. “I’m so sorry!” His hands trembled. “Please let me in. If only for a little bit. I’m…I’m home now. Plea—.”

Without warning, Desmond lunged and engulfed his nephew in a stifling embrace. He lifted Rowan off the ground. “You’re alive, Rowan! Alive!” The Yellow Kougra began crying. “You’re home. That’s all that matters.”

“Mmph. Mrff…,” was the reply.

“Dear, you’re suffocating him,” came a familiar, refined voice. “Please put him down; I’d like to hug my long-lost nephew, too.”

Desmond let go, leaving Rowan coughing and gasping. The Green Ogrin stared in at the petite Zafara, “Aunt Elaine…” He opened his arms.

The Green Zafara rushed into them and buried her head in his chest. Rowan rubbed her back as her body shook with sobs.

Desmond gave Rowan a watery smile, “Please come in. Elaine and I were about to have lunch. I’ll ask Ms. Alice to whip up some chocolate cake for dessert. We’ll be sure to celebrate at dinner, too.”

Rowan tried to walk forward, but his aunt refused to let go.

10:00 p.m. NST

He told them everything. He felt like it was the least he could do. From his failed theft attempt to his recent potion-ingredient outing with Kayla. His aunt and uncle leaned forward on the couch opposite Rowan’s. “That’s…about it. I think.” The Green Ogrin glued his chin to his chest and began to twiddle his thumbs.

“You’ve certainly been busy,” he said finally. Elaine nodded in agreement.

“I agree,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve had a lifetime’s worth of adventure.” The Green Zafara stood up and walked toward her nephew. She sat beside him and put a hand under his chin, gently turning it to face her. “Rowan, dear,” she began. “Please look at us. Your Uncle and I are not angry.”

Rowan’s lips quivered for a moment before he quickly withdrew them into his mouth.

Elaine moved her hand from his chin to stroke his right cheek. “Actually, we have something to tell you, too.” She glanced at her husband, who nodded. She stared into Rowan’s eyes before speaking: “We’re sorry, Rowan. We didn’t do right by you.”

The Green Ogrin finally found his voice, “Wh-why? You didn’t do anything…”

“You’re wrong,” Elaine stated. “We weren’t there for you when your father died.”

Rowan frowned. “I don’t get it; you guys didn’t leave me. I left you.”

“What she’s trying to say, Rowan, is that we failed to care for you emotionally,” Desmond interceded. The Yellow Kougra wrapped his arms around himself. “Most of the blame falls on my shoulders,” he confessed. “I was so distraught, so devastated when Hugo died.” He grimaced, “And I tried to cope with it by forcing you into knighthood.”

Elaine took her hand from Rowan’s face to clasp his right hand, “You were only a child, dear. A child who needed warm, loving arms to hold you as you cried.” The Green Zafara shook her head, “Instead, we went straight into preserving your father’s legacy through house tradition.” She squeezed his hand, “We missed the fact that his greatest legacy was staring at us every day. I was complicit in trying to make a knight of you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Desmond nodded, “That’s why we wanted to apologize, Rowan. We were too wrapped up in our own grief to help you with yours. And as adults, we should have dealt with ours better. But we didn’t. All we did was hurt you. Please forgive us.”

Tears began to run down Rowan’s face. “I…I will. P-please forgive me for running away.”

Elaine threw her arms around her nephew. Desmond got up from his couch and embraced them both, “We’re together again. That’s all we care about.”

The next morning

Rowan smoothed his pants before looking at himself one more time in his bedroom mirror. Everything appeared to be in order.

“Are you about to leave, dear?” asked a soft-spoken voice.

Rowan jolted at his aunt’s voice. “Yes, Aunt Elaine, the carriage ought to be here in about an hour.”

The Green Zafara nodded. “Your Uncle and I have something to give you. Let’s go to the living room.”

Desmond held a rectangular box in his hands. It was hewn of dark-coloured oak, its wavy grains crisscrossing the lid. The lacquer glistened in the morning light. “Good morning, Rowan.”

“Good morning, Uncle Desmond,” Rowan replied. “What are you holding?”

Desmond smiled, “Always one to cut to the chase.” He opened it.

Rowan’s eyes widened when he saw what was inside: a silver medallion with a silver chain. “This was—.” His mouth clapped shut.

“Yes, this was Hugo’s,” Desmond supplied. “And now, it’s yours.”

Rowan didn’t budge as he continued to stare.

Desmond smiled before lifting the silver medallion from the box’s velvet lining. The Yellow Kougra deftly fastened it around his nephew’s neck. Rowan traced the etchings on its surface. “The Cliffs…,” he mumbled to himself.

“This was on your father’s person when he was…found,” Elaine added. “He would have wanted you to have it.”

“But…but,” Rowan struggled. “This should belong to the Viscount of Albion.” The Green Ogrin shook his head. “I gave up any possible birthright by running away, so you be the viscount.”

“You’re wrong, Rowan,” Desmond countered. “I became the overseer of House Albion’s property, but I never took the title myself.” He sniffed, “I could never take Hugo’s place.” He wiped his eyes, “And, I suppose I always had hope you would come back.” He smiled.

“The medal lays near your heart,” Elaine touched its centre. “Whenever you see it, remember your father and mother. And us.”

Rowan smiled as he drew his aunt into a hug, “I will, Aunt Elaine.”

“Dear, how many times have you hugged him?” Desmond teased. “All jokes aside, I do have something I want to say.”

Elaine released him as the Yellow Kougra placed both his hands on Rowan’s shoulders. “We should have told you this after we lost Hugo: no matter what path you cleave, we will always love you and be proud of you.”

“Knight or not, you will always be Rowan,” Elaine added.

“I… I never thought about it that way,” Rowan admitted.

Desmond looked at the nearby grandfather clock, “Your carriage should be here at any moment. Your aunt and I will walk you there.”

“But not before you get a slice of chocolate cake to go, Master Rowan,” Ms. Alice suddenly interjected.

Desmond and Elaine couldn’t help it; their laughter filled the house in a raucous duet.

At the Chalk Cliffs

The carriage driver grumbled when Rowan insisted on stopping for a 15-minute break. But he had brightened considerably when the Green Ogrin had generously supplemented his fare. Rowan closed his eyes and inhaled slowly as he allowed the sea breeze to ruffle his fur. The Cliffs… They felt like a part of him. He touched the silver medallion hanging from his neck. In a way, they were.

His aunt’s words danced in his mind to the music of the crashing waves.

The End

P.S.: Be prepared for at least one new series. I have no plans for it to directly impact Rowan’s story, but I hope it will illuminate things when his story continues.

     The End.