Keeping The Peace, Part V
Kurgm walked into the city. Sure enough, the protesters were back, demanding that His Majesty answer for his perceived wrongdoings.
He watched them for a moment. How was he supposed to join in? Did he start marching with them? Should he ask first? Who would he ask? He tried to spot one of the people who’d spoken the day before, but he couldn’t see any of them.
He walked closer, trying not to look like he was walking toward anyone in particular. Someone must know what to do. Maybe if he asked someone.
When he got closer, people noticed him. They moved away from him, as though some spell repelled them.
Not a spell. They’re afraid of me.
“I want to help!” he said.
“Go back to the castle, knight!” someone shouted.
“We have a right to be here!” another one called.
“Leave us alone!”
“No, I don’t—”
People marched past him, shouting at him to leave them alone.
His shoulders slumped. He took a step back. Maybe he couldn’t help after all.
“Why are you sad?”
He looked around, then noticed not an adult, but a child. A boy, maybe a few years younger than himself, stood apart from the mass of people. The boy had skin that could’ve been from Nelaro or Alforn, Kurgm couldn’t tell. But most significantly, the boy had bandages wrapped around his eyes and scars on his face and hands.
“Are you okay?” Kurgm asked.
“I’m wonderful. Thank you for asking.” When the boy smiled, it was soft and kind, like there wasn’t a dark thought in his head. There was something familiar about him, but Kurgm couldn’t put his finger on it. “But you’re sad. Why?”
“I wanted to help. I’m not trying to stop the protests, I’m trying to join in. I agree, what’s happening is wrong, and His Majesty needs to fix it. The castle’s working on it, but until they do, I want to show my support.”
“Then come march with us.” The boy reached out and offered his hand. “Everyone is welcome here.”
A man came up beside the boy. Unlike the boy, Kurgm could tell the man was a native of Alforn. Something about him also struck Kurgm as familiar, but he couldn’t place that either. Maybe he had one of those faces. He was well kept and had a face that said “you can trust me”.
“Oshal, please don’t run off like that.” The man looked at Kurgm. “You were here yesterday, weren’t you? With Master Ekla.” He narrowed his eyes. “Except the glasses are new.”
“You know Master Ekla?”
“I should think so,” he said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, who’d lowered his hand. “She saved our lives not long ago. You must be her apprentice.”
“Apprentice Kurgm.”
“Nice to meet you.” The man grabbed Kurgm’s hand and shook it. “I’m Daylarl, and this is my son, Oshal.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Kurgm nodded respectfully, as Master Ekla had drilled into him to always do when meeting new people.
“All manners, I like it. Definitely her apprentice. I kept expecting her to come over here and give me a lecture about civil unrest or something.”
“But it’s our right to protest,” Oshal said. “People here are scared and angry. Some of them think His Majesty is hoarding food to save himself. Others think he’s behind the attack.”
“His Majesty would never do that!”
Kurgm found himself outraged by the mere thought of it. His Majesty King Fohra was regarded as the wisest king in decades. Kurgm truly believed he’d let himself starve before his people did.
“Settle down,” Daylarl said, glancing at the looks they were getting. “We know better. We’ve seen dragons before, and this was definitely a dragon attack.”
“That’s what happens to people.” Oshal’s mouth drooped a little. Kurgm was surprised how expressive he could be without eyes. “They get scared, and lash out. Don’t blame them for that. We must forgive people for what they say while in the clutches of fear.”
Kurgm smiled, remembering what Lord Velal had said. He was glad someone understood. He hadn’t known what to expect when coming out here, but he was glad he’d run into these two.
“Lord Velal told me that yesterday,” Kurgm said. “Have you met him?”
“It’s a long story, and there isn’t enough time to talk about it now,” Daylarl said. He motioned for them to follow the crowd.
Oshal walked slowly, carefully tapping a stick to find his way. The stick was quiet on the dirt. He moved with the people, never bumping them with the stick, as though he knew exactly where they were.
Kurgm looked from the pleasant smile on Oshal’s face to the grin on Daylarl’s. Something was familiar about them. He’d seen that smile before.
“Are you… are you Roshil’s father?”
“You’ve met Roshil!” Daylarl’s burst of energy nearly made him jump. “That’s wonderful. I was a little worried she wouldn’t make friends in the castle. Last I heard, she’d been assigned a different master, and I thought she might end up jostled from one to the next.”
Kurgm thought of her in the forge. She and Lord Grund were made for each other. They were both no nonsense, even with each other. It drove Master Ekla mad, but it meant her father’s fear would never be realized. She was happy in the castle, and it made Kurgm happy to think that she’d found a place there.
“My sister’s happy.” Oshal’s smile broadened. “That’s wonderful, if that’s true. Is it?”
Kurgm frowned, wondering what had just happened. Oshal said something with such certainty, but asked him if it was true. But he hadn’t said something, he’d said exactly what had been on Kurgm’s mind.
“You’re a weaver!”
“Keep your voice down,” Daylarl said. “Not everyone needs to know that.”
“Our Lady Grand Weaver says I have a gift for it,” Oshal said. “She already has a master picked out for me. Once the cold season ends and the flowers return, I’ll begin my apprenticeship.” He smiled a little wider. “Is my sister okay?”
“Yeah, Our Lord High Artisan took over her apprenticeship. I don’t know why, she won’t say. She doesn’t talk much to me, mostly to Apprentice Aonva, but I’ve never seen them apart outside the forge.”
Oshal smiled at this. Kurgm smiled back, glad he had found someone that accepted his help.