The Stellate Vortex

"I understand," Kieth replied.

"Still... I'm sorry," Evelyn said softly.

"You can stay here for a week or two, but someone is bound to notice."

"Yes, I understand that."

Evelyn smiled faintly. "Besides, I have to reach home myself."

"Alright. See you."

As she stepped out, Kieth called after her. "Evelyn... I'm sorry for lashing out at you earlier. I didn't mean it, I was just—"

"It's alright," she interrupted with a gentle smile.

Kieth returned the smile as she walked away.

As Evelyn approached her house, her smile faded. The sight of it—the largest house in the village—filled her with dread. She despised it, despite its grandeur.

She stepped inside and, to her relief, Aldric wasn't home. Making her way to their shared room, she sat down, tending to her flowers before brewing tea. She began humming a melody, her voice soft and wistful.

It was a song she couldn't fully recall, the lyrics and tune blurry in her mind. Yet, the vague melody lingered, comforting in its simplicity. She hummed it often, hoping that one day she would remember the rest.

The door opened. Evelyn's humming stopped abruptly as she saw Aldric enter. She lowered her head, avoiding his gaze as he passed by without a word.

She returned to her tea, pouring a cup for herself and another for him. After a moment's hesitation, she carried it to the living room, where Aldric now sat. She placed the cup on the table before him and took a slow sip of her own.

"Out sneaking from the house again, are we?" Aldric questioned, his tone sharp.

Evelyn froze but managed to reply evenly, "You were awake when I left."

"True," Aldric muttered, taking a sip of his tea.

After a pause, he added, "In a week, we will invade the kingdom."

Evelyn's eyes widened in shock. She nearly choked on her tea but quickly composed herself.

"What? But how? We barely have an army," she stammered.

"I alone am enough for them," Aldric declared, his voice filled with disdain. "But I'll show them how a true king should rule."

She knew his words weren't idle boasts. Aldric had stayed under the radar not out of fear, but because of his health—a constant state of fever that kept him from unleashing his full potential. Yet, even in his weakened state, his magic could devastate entire battalions.

Aldric drained his tea and stood. "I'll be in the war room. Do not come there."

"Yes..." Evelyn murmured.

He left without another glance, leaving her alone in the room. She sank deeper into her chair, staring at the tea in her hands, her thoughts swirling.

The melody she'd hummed earlier resurfaced in her mind, but this time it brought no comfort.

---

Kieth stood outside, his dark cloak wrapped tightly around him, shielding his face and body. The cold bit at his skin, but the villagers seemed accustomed to it, each bundled in thick layers to fight off the cold.

He glanced around, observing the layout of the village. The wooden buildings, snow-covered roofs, and rugged paths reminded him of old Nordic towns. It wasn't at all what Evelyn had described.

"What was I expecting? A couple of thugs here and there?" Kieth muttered, shaking his head.

"Goodness, the stereotype of bandits in fiction is catching up to me."

Nearby, a group of men sat huddled around a large rock, their low voices drifting through the air. Kieth moved closer, staying unnoticed but within earshot, curious to hear their conversation.

One of the men, an older fellow with a thick beard, spoke first. "What trouble hast thou found this time, Edwin?"

The younger man, sitting cross-legged, scratched the back of his neck and sighed. "Gave my boy a taste of mead, I did."

The others laughed, shaking their heads. "And what did thy wife say to that?"

"She tossed me out, didn't she?" Aldwin replied with a groan. "Said I'm a terrible father. The lad didn't even cough on it!"

Another man slapped his knee. "Mayhap she fears the boy will turn into thee!"

The group roared with laughter, but the bearded man turned to another, grinning. "And thee, Harlan? What of thy woes?"

Harlan leaned back against the rock, smirking. "Ah, my dame caught me chatting with the milkmaid next door. Said I was looking at her 'too kindly.'"

The men exchanged knowing chuckles. "Women do have a talent for making much of little," the bearded man said, shaking his head.

Harlan sighed dramatically. "Aye, and if she hears even a whisper of this talk, I shall not see my bed for days!"

"Best hold thy tongue, then," Edwin said, producing a small flask from his coat. "Here, lads. A sip will keep us warm enough."

The group chuckled as the flask was passed around, their laughter filling the cold air with a touch of warmth.

Kieth lingered for a moment longer, listening with quiet amusement.

They certainly have quite the accent... wonder why Evelyn doesn't speak like that.

Continuing his walk, he came upon a group of villagers practicing archery. Curious, he stepped closer.

One of the men, holding a bow, noticed him and called out, "Ho there, lad! Care to try thy hand at the bow? If thou dost well, Lord Aldric may yet take thee to battle. Think of the honor and glory!"

"Battle?" Kieth asked, frowning slightly.

"Aye, dost thou not know? Our village prepareth for war against the Kingdom of Thelaria," the man replied with a booming laugh. "To fight alongside Lord Aldric is a great honor. Prove thy worth, and thou mayst earn thy place!"

Kieth hesitated. "I've never really used a bow before. I'm not sure I'd be any good."

The man laughed again. "Thou speakest oddly, lad. Whose son art thou?"

Kieth, unwilling to answer, simply took the bow from the man.

"Ah, that's the spirit!" the man said with a grin, clapping Kieth on the shoulder. "Take aim, lad, and show us what thou canst do!"

Kieth stood before the straw target, bow in hand. The arrow trembled as he tried to steady it, but his grip was untrained, the shaft veering sideways no matter how tightly he held it. He exhaled and released, watching as the arrow flew clumsily and barely made it a few feet.

A man nearby, likely the range master, chuckled. "First time, is it, lad?"

Kieth nodded, lowering his head in mild embarrassment. "Yes."

"No shame in that. Train long and hard, and someday, you'll hit your mark," the man said encouragingly.

Kieth offered a small smile before walking away, his cheeks flushed. The experience left him embarrassed, but not disheartened. His curiosity about the village—and its people—kept him moving forward.

The village was calm and peaceful. Men, women, and children went about their lives, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Kieth couldn't help but feel a sense of normalcy here, a stark contrast to Evelyn's warnings about this being a bandit stronghold.

After wandering for a while, Kieth came upon a large building, its imposing structure unlike the smaller homes and workshops scattered around the village. He couldn't discern its purpose, but the noise from within suggested it was important. The wide doors creaked open, and a stream of people poured out, each speaking in hushed tones.

One man, however, caught Kieth's attention immediately. Towering over everyone, his frame was nearly twice the size of Kieth's, both in height and breadth. His presence alone commanded respect and fear.

The murmurs of the villagers confirmed his identity:

"Lord Aldric, please reconsider your health. We can manage the soldiers in your stead," one of them pleaded.

Aldric's voice boomed in reply. "Do you take me for a weakling? A mere sickness cannot halt me! Now leave my sight before you waste more of my time."

Kieth instinctively stepped back, watching as Aldric stormed out. For a moment, the lord's piercing gaze landed on him. Kieth froze, holding his breath as Aldric's eyes lingered. But just as quickly, the moment passed, and Aldric turned away, continuing on his path.

Kieth exhaled in relief, feeling the tension in his shoulders release. "That was close," he thought, realizing how easily he could have drawn unwanted attention.

But the encounter left him intrigued. "So, that's the lord of this village," he mused.

Kieth decided it was time to head back, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village. As he made his way home, the chatter of a group of women caught his attention. Their voices, low but sharp, carried the unmistakable tone of gossip.

"Lady Evelyn be rarely seen beyond the manor walls of late," one woman whispered, her tone dripping with suspicion. "A queer thing, is it not?"

"Aye, but what expect ye?" another replied, her voice laced with scorn. "She's the lord's wife, after all."

"Do ye truly believe the lord holds love for her?" the first woman asked, incredulous.

"Love? Pah!" a third chimed in, her tone mocking. "I've heard her wails echo through the night more times than I care to count."

The second woman leaned in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "Mayhap it's her own failings. I hear she lacks skill in the duties our lord gives her. If he be cross, can ye blame him?"

Kieth's thoughts churned as he walked.

What… Evelyn is wed to the lord of this place? Could she—

He shook his head, forcing the thought away.

No. She saved me, helped me. I shan't doubt her… I'll ask her myself.

As Kieth approached the house, he noticed three young men wandering nearby. Their steps carried them dangerously close to the place where he and Serel were staying. Kieth hid behind a post, hoping they would change direction, but their path led straight to the house.

He steadied himself, then stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the shoulder of the one trailing behind.

The boy jolted and spun around. "By the saints, what art thou playing at? Thou near gave me a heart attack!"

The other two turned to face him, their faces scrunched in confusion.

Kieth asked, "What business hast thou here?"

The boys exchanged puzzled glances. One squinted at him. "What sayest thou? Speak plainly!"

Kieth, realizing his words might be strange to them, silently pointed down the road, firmly gesturing for them to leave.

The blond-haired boy tilted his head. "Ah, thou wouldst have us leave this place?"

Kieth nodded, keeping his posture rigid.

The taller one scoffed and stepped closer, pushing Kieth's shoulder. "And who art thou to tell us where we may tread? Hast thou a name, knave?"

The blond boy intervened, holding the taller one back. "Stay thy hand, Erwin! There's no cause for quarrel here."

The third boy, quiet until now, chimed in. "We mean no harm, stranger. Our business is with yon house. Let us be on our way."

Ignoring Kieth's warning, the trio turned and continued toward the house.

Kieth exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around a sturdy branch lying nearby. I've no choice, he thought, and struck the taller boy with a solid blow to his shoulder.

"God's wounds!" the boy cried out.

"Hast thou gone mad?"

The other two froze, their faces pale. Kieth wasted no time, turning to strike the second boy on the neck, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Only the blond boy remained. His hands shot into the air. "Mercy! I'll leave! I swear it!"

Kieth began to lower the branch and step back, but the blond boy's eyes shifted, and he lunged.

Kieth pivoted sharply, swinging the branch again, this time catching the boy across the temple. The blond boy dropped to the ground beside his companions, unconscious.

Kieth was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself.

A sound came from behind him. He spun around quickly, gripping the branch tightly.

"You really thought a simple disguise would fool me?"

Aldric stood a short distance away, calm and imposing. In his arms was Serel, held firmly but unharmed.

Kieth's grip tightened, his anger flaring up like a wildfire. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

Aldric barely blinked, his expression cold and unreadable. "You have a lot of nerve, don't you? Coming into my village, defying me, and now shouting demands? The moment you set foot here, you should've realized who I am."

"You..." Kieth growled, his fury boiling over. Without thinking, he dashed toward Aldric, his sights locked on him.

But before he could close the gap, something struck him hard from the side. He stumbled, his vision blurring as he tried to steady himself. Turning his head, he tried to see where the blow had come from, but his surroundings swam in and out of focus.

Serel's muffled cries broke through the haze. "Kieth! Papa!"

He forced his legs to move, driven by instinct and desperation, but a second blow came, harder than the first. It knocked the wind out of him, sending him to his knees.

The last thing he saw before the darkness crept in was Serel reaching for him, her small hands outstretched, and Aldric's calm, unbothered face.

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