Isabella looked up from her needlework when Arthur pushed open the kitchen door. She was sitting by the window, mending one of Mordred's shirts in the golden light of the setting sun. Her chestnut hair, streaked with a few premature silver threads, was held back in a simple bun, and her hazel eyes so similar to those of her late brother, lit up at the sight of her nephew.
- "Arthur!" she exclaimed, immediately setting down her work. "Thank God, you've returned safe and sound. I was so worried..."
She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she saw the bulky package of oiled parchment that Arthur was carrying.
- "What is..." she began, incredulous. "Arthur, what do you have there?"
- "Meat, Aunt Isabella!" he replied proudly, setting the package down on the solid wood table. "Beef, and good quality too! We'll be able to have a real feast tonight!"
Isabella approached and examined the contents of the package, her eyebrows gradually furrowing. She lifted one of the pieces, observing the clean, professional cut and the quality of the meat that bore no resemblance to the wild game Arthur usually brought back.
- "This meat..." she said slowly, "it comes from Malonne's, doesn't it? The cut is too perfect for game, and look at this marbling... This is prime quality beef."
Arthur lowered his head, suddenly less proud of himself. He should have known that Isabella would immediately see the difference. His aunt had grown up in a farming family and knew meat like a blacksmith knows metal.
- "Arthur," she repeated in a firmer voice, "how did you get this meat? You had no money when you left, and I very much doubt that Malonne gave you credit out of the goodness of his heart."
The young man sighed and sat heavily on one of the wooden stools surrounding the table. The day's events came crashing down on him all at once: the fatigue of the journey, the hunger, the humiliation at Malonne's, and now the disappointment he could read in his aunt's eyes.
t "I failed," he admitted in a muted voice. "Six days in the Cursed Ridge, and I couldn't manage to kill even a rabbit. I had found a magnificent doe, I was about to hit it, but..."
He stopped, hesitating to speak about the explosion and the dead elf. Those events seemed unreal to him now that he was back in his aunt's familiar kitchen.
- "But?" Isabella encouraged, sitting down across from him.
- "There was... an accident. The doe ran away, and I found myself with nothing. I was so ashamed to return empty-handed that I tried to trade something I had found for meat. Malonne... he was odious to me, as usual. He threw me out of his shop."
- "And then? How did you get this meat?"
- "Borht arrived. He saw the dispute and... he paid for the meat out of his own pocket. He offered me an arrangement. I work for him tomorrow, and my debt will be erased."
Isabella's face hardened, and Arthur recognized that expression she took when she was truly upset. She stood up and began pacing the small kitchen, her skirts rustling against the packed earth floor.
- "Arthur," she said finally, "how many times have I told you that you must never, ever go into debt to anyone?"
- "But Aunt Isabella, it's just one day of work..."
- "Just one day?" she interrupted. "Arthur, debts are chains! They bind us, imprison us, make us dependent on others' goodwill. Your Uncle Gareth told me this a thousand times. A free man owes nothing to anyone."
Arthur lowered his head even further, feeling like a scolded child.
- "I know, but I was so hungry, and I was thinking of you two waiting for me to bring back something..."
Isabella sighed and came to place a maternal hand on her nephew's shoulder.
- "I understand your intentions, Arthur. Really. But you forget that harvest is approaching. In two days, we begin cutting the wheat, and we'll need every available pair of hands. Every hour counts at this time of year."
She was right, of course. Arthur had been so preoccupied with his fruitless hunt that he had almost forgotten the approaching deadline. Harvest was the most crucial time of the year for farmers. It determined whether they would spend the winter in relative abundance or in hunger.
- "Go help your cousin in the fields," Isabella continued in a softer voice. "He's preparing the last tools for the harvest. And tomorrow, you'll honor your debt to Borht, but after that, no more arrangements of this kind. Promise me."
- "I promise, Aunt Isabella."
Arthur headed toward the door that led to the back of the house, where their modest fields stretched out. As he went out, he spotted Mordred near the barn, busy sharpening the scythes they would use to cut the wheat. His cousin was bent over a grindstone, the muscles in his arms rolling under his linen shirt as he ran the metal blade over the stone.
- "Mordred!" Arthur called as he approached.
His cousin looked up, wiping the sweat beading on his forehead. Despite his twenty years, Mordred already had the bearing of a grown man, with his broad shoulders inherited from his father and his hands calloused by working the land. But today, Arthur could read anxiety in his green eyes.
- "Arthur! So, how was the hunt? You look exhausted, old friend."
- "It was... eventful," Arthur replied with a forced smile. "But we'll eat meat tonight, that's the main thing."
Mordred's face lit up instantly.
- "Really? Good fresh meat? It's been so long! What did you kill? A deer? A boar?"
Arthur hesitated. He didn't want to explain the whole story to his cousin, not now.
- "Let's just say I made a good deal in the village," he evaded. "But tell me, how are the preparations going? Are we ready for the day after tomorrow?"
Mordred set down his scythe and stretched, making his joints crack.
- "Almost. I've sharpened all the blades, checked the handles, prepared the baskets to carry the grain. Mother took out the large cloths to spread the ears in the sun. All we have left is to pray to Aethon to grant us a few days of good weather."
They worked together until nightfall, checking every tool, every detail that could make the difference between a successful harvest and disaster. Arthur was happy to find the familiar rhythm of fieldwork again, those gestures repeated since childhood that soothed his troubled mind.
As they were putting away the last tools, Arthur turned to his cousin with a falsely casual air.
- "By the way, Mordred... are you planning to ask Selena to marry you before you leave?"
The effect was immediate. Mordred turned red as a poppy and nearly dropped the scythe he was carrying.
- "Selena? What... why are you asking me that?"
- "Come on, don't play innocent. The whole village knows you've been circling each other for years. And with military service approaching..."
Mordred's face immediately darkened, all trace of embarrassment disappearing to give way to deep sadness.
- "I... I haven't had the chance to see her recently," he murmured. "I've been so busy with harvest preparations, and she... her father has been keeping her away since the enlistment orders arrived."
Arthur frowned. He had known Borht since childhood, and the man had always seemed fair and generous to him. Why would he keep his daughter away from Mordred?
- "Maybe he doesn't want her to get attached to someone who's going to leave for ten years," Arthur suggested.
- "That's exactly it," Mordred sighed. "And maybe he's right. What's the point of declaring my feelings if it's just to leave her alone for a decade? She deserves better than a phantom fiancé who will only return for rare leaves."
Arthur placed a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder.
- "Don't you think that's for her to decide? Selena isn't a child, Mordred. She's eighteen, she knows what she wants."
- "Maybe, but..."
- "Listen," Arthur interrupted, "I have an idea. Tomorrow morning, I have to go work at Borht's to pay back a debt. Why don't you come with me? You could find an excuse to see Selena, talk to her privately."
Mordred looked at him with an expression mixing hope and apprehension.
- "Do you really think that's a good idea? What if her father catches us?"
- "We'll figure it out when the time comes. But at least you'll have tried. You wouldn't want to leave for the army with regrets, would you?"
Mordred thought for a long time, then slowly nodded.
- "All right. I'll come with you. But if Borht chases us away with an axe, it's your fault!"
The evening meal was indeed a feast compared to their usual fare. Isabella had prepared a stew with the beef, garnished with vegetables from their garden and aromatic herbs. The smell wafting from the iron pot was divine, and for the first time in a long while, they could eat their fill.
- "It's delicious, Mother," said Mordred, serving himself a generous second helping. "It reminds me of the feast meals of old, when Father was still here."
Isabella smiled, but Arthur could see the melancholy that veiled her eyes at the mention of her late husband.
- "Your father loved beef," she murmured. "He said it was food for kings."
They ate in comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts. Arthur was thinking back to his strange discovery in the forest, to that mysterious stone that was in his bag. Mordred was probably thinking about Selena and his imminent departure. As for Isabella, she seemed worried despite the joy of the shared meal.
When they had finished, Arthur helped his aunt clear the table then went up to bed in his small room under the eaves. The room was spartan—a simple wooden bed, a rickety chest of drawers, and a bedside table on which sat a tallow candle. But it was his refuge, the place where he could be alone with his thoughts.
He placed his hunting bag in a corner and lit the candle, casting dancing shadows on the bare stone walls. Then, with almost ritual gestures, he took the golden stone from his bag.
In the flickering light of the flame, it seemed even more extraordinary than in the forest. Its polished surface reflected and amplified the glow of the candle, creating hypnotic plays of light. Arthur slowly turned it in his hands, admiring the dark veins that ran beneath its surface like underground rivers.
- "Here I am back home," he murmured to the stone as if addressing an old friend. "And I already have troubles. A debt to Borht, the harvest starting in two days, and Mordred leaving soon for the army..."
He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, continuing to contemplate the mysterious object.
- "I wonder if you'll bring me luck or misfortune. Malonne seemed terrified when he learned you came from the Cursed Ridge. Maybe he was right to be afraid. Maybe I never should have brought you here."
But even saying this, Arthur knew he couldn't part with it. There was something about this stone that attracted him irresistibly, as if it were already part of him.
- "Aunt Isabella is going to need all the help possible with the harvest," he continued. "And once Mordred is gone... it will be even harder. We are so few, and the fields are so large. How are we going to manage?"
The stone seemed to pulse faintly in his hands, as if reacting to his words. Arthur shook his head, reproaching himself once again for letting his imagination run wild.
- "I'm really going crazy," he muttered. "Talking to a stone... Uncle Gareth would mock me if he saw me."
He carefully slipped the stone under his bed, where it would be safe, then blew out the candle. In the darkness of his room, he heard the familiar sounds of the night—the wind making the roof beams groan, small nocturnal animals scratching in the walls, and in the distance, the hooting of an owl.
Despite his fatigue, sleep was long in coming. Arthur's mind bubbled with unanswered questions, worries about the future, and images of the dead elf in the clearing. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were filled with golden flames and voices whispering in a language he didn't understand.
The next morning, Arthur was awakened by the first rays of sun filtering through his room's small window. He dressed quickly, swallowing a bowl of oat porridge with goat's milk that Isabella had prepared. Mordred was already waiting for him outside, visibly nervous about the idea of seeing Selena again.
- "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked for the umpteenth time as they set off.
- "Trust me," Arthur replied. "What do you risk? At worst, Borht tells you to leave, and you're no better off than before."
Isabella accompanied them to the house's threshold, giving each a kiss on the forehead as she had done since their childhood.
- "Come back by noon," she told them. "This afternoon, we have work waiting for us. And you, Arthur, be careful with Borht. He's a fair man, but he doesn't like being made fun of."
- "Don't worry, Aunt Isabella. Everything will be fine."
The two young men took the dusty path leading to the village, their steps raising small clouds of dry earth. The sun was still low on the horizon, but you could already feel it would be hot during the day. The wheat fields bordering the road undulated under a light breeze, their golden ears ready for harvest.
- "So, tell me," said Arthur to lighten the atmosphere. "How did it happen between you two? When did you realize you were in love with Selena?"
Mordred instantly blushed, but this time he didn't deflect the conversation.
- "It was two years ago, during the harvest festival. Do you remember? There had been that big celebration in the village square, with musicians from the capital."
- "I remember. You had drunk a bit too much cider and you were dancing like a sick bear."
- "Very funny," Mordred muttered. "Actually, it was that very evening that... that I danced with Selena for the first time. She was wearing this blue dress that brought out her eyes, and her hair was braided with field flowers. When she smiled at me..."
He stopped, lost in his memories.
- "Continue," Arthur encouraged, amused to see his cousin so romantic.
- "I felt like the world stopped turning. That nothing else existed but her and me. It was... magical."
- "And since then? Have you seen each other often?"
- "A few times. Discreetly. Borht watches over his daughter like a dragon watches over its treasure. But we managed to escape sometimes, to walk near the river or in the woods behind the church."
Arthur smiled, happy to see his cousin finally opening up about this subject he kept so secret.
- "And her? Does she feel the same way?"
Mordred's face lit up with pure happiness.
- "I... I think so. She looked at me in a way... And then, the last time we saw each other, she told me she often thought about me. That she dreamed of the two of us."
- "Then why are you still hesitating? It seems clear to me!"
- "Because that's easy to say!" exclaimed Mordred, his anxiety taking over again. "But what am I going to propose to her? To wait for me for ten years? To remain faithful to a man she'll only see once a year, if I'm lucky? It's selfish of me!"
Arthur stopped in the middle of the path and placed his hands on his cousin's shoulders.
- "Mordred, listen to me carefully. Love isn't something you calculate like a merchant calculates his profits. If you truly love each other, you'll find a way to overcome the obstacles. And if she agrees to wait for you, it will be her choice, not yours."
Mordred looked at him for a long time, then slowly nodded.
- "Maybe you're right. But promise me one thing: if it goes badly, if Borht throws me out or if Selena rejects me, you'll never say 'I told you so.'"
- "Promised," Arthur laughed. "But it won't go badly. I'm sure of it."
They resumed their walk, and soon the first houses of BrownStone appeared around the bend in the path. The village was slowly awakening: smoke rose from chimneys, a few peasants were leading their animals to the fields, and you could hear the rhythmic tinkling of hammer on anvil in blacksmith Harrold's forge.
Borht's house was located near the central square, a solid two-story stone building with a spacious courtyard where piles of freshly cut wood were stacked. Arthur could already hear the sound of the saw biting into wood, a sign that the village chief was already at work.
- "Well," he said to Mordred, stopping in front of the wooden gate. "This is the moment of truth. Are you ready?"
Mordred took a deep breath, smoothed his hair with a nervous hand, and nodded with determination.
- "Ready. Let's go."
They pushed open the gate and entered the courtyard, where a day that would change many things in their lives awaited them.