Fast Friends

Spring, Lyle

The scent of salt was strong today, Carver noted to himself as he went about his work. He had only lived on the island of Lyle for a short time, yet the place already felt like home to him. Maybe it was because he never really had a home, growing up as a second son – unwanted by his successful father. His mother had always been kind to him though, and it was after she gave her blessing that he had the courage to journey out to sea. He had been one of the first to be recruited to settle the island, as the Brotherhood had named a king to rule. Since they’d arrived though, many workers had fallen ill and some had even died. Carver had found himself with a larger workload than anticipated, and more responsibility. Somehow, he had pulled through it strong, and had been given recognition for his efforts. 

He had even been asked to meet the king, which frightened him greatly. His wife Mairi did not share his fears, in fact she had urged him to go ahead and even ask the king for greater reward for his work. She had always been more spirited than he was. She had arrived some time after he had, as were the rules for the first settlers of Lyle. Women were only allowed on the first boats if they possessed some kind of skill that would aid the cultivation of the land. Mairi was a cook and a seamstress, she could not bend metal or carve out stone. She had however, decided she would be the first to give birth on the island. And since not many of the workers had brought their families over yet – it seemed she would achieve her goal.

Carver was petrified of being a father. Mainly he feared the infant dying at his hand – his huge, dangerously clumsy hands. From what he’d seen, babies were fretfully fragile things. Despite his fears, he’d always hoped to have many children, although he had yet to discuss his desire with Mairi. She would be a wonderful mother, he knew, with her strong will and maternal passion.

There was a brisk knock at the door, “Working on your day off even?”

Erick Ingvar stepped through the open doorway, his tall yet slender frame casting a slim shadow over Carver’s papers. Carver smiled a little, although Erick was a nobleman and Carver was commonfolk, the two had become fast friends during their time in Lyle. 

“You want this village done within the year, don’t you?” Carver responded sarcastically.

“Done enough to live in yes,” Erick said with a wink. He walked over to Carver’s work desk, “The king has arrived and is happy staying in a tent for the time being, but I daresay his future wife won’t be so adaptable.”

Erick’s gaze was fast and deliberate, as if he was clueing puzzle pieces together as he observed his surroundings. His blonde hair and pale skin gave him away as hailing from the matriarchal kingdom of Maela, although his accent was lightened by years of travel.

“The main quarters will be finished soon, I assure you.” Carver said, “I understand that the other ships are arriving now too? Carrying all the women and children?”

Erick nodded, “Hopefully the men won’t be spending so much gold on the whores rather than getting the work done.”

“Well then…” Carver turned to stand up, “Does the king still wish to see me?”

“Yes, he’s very interested in meeting you – He’s already gone to the village site and seen the construction in action.”

Carver felt his cheeks heat and he smiled a little, he was nervous to know what the king thought of his work. As if she sensed his uneasiness, Mairi appeared from the other room. She stood a length shorter than either of the men, and her brown hair was left in curls and resting on her shoulders. To Carver, the protrusion of her pregnant belly made her appear even smaller and more breakable. 

“Is that a Maelan I hear?” She joked, “Get him out of here Carver, before he starts planting flowers all over the place.”

Erick and Carver laughed heartily, it was a common stereotype that all Maelans loved flowers – due to the abundance of greenery in Maela.

“Ah, Mairi” Erick said with a sigh. “When are you going to leave this old klutz and run away with me?”

“I won’t be running anywhere until this thing gets out of me,” Mairi groaned.

Erick laughed again, “Don’t talk too soon; I hear newborns can be a handful.”

Carver nodded in agreement, his fear of breaking the poor baby was secretly debilitating. If he had his way, the child would be born and grown without his interference, or at least without him having to hold the infant.

Modest Aura

Spring, Lyle

Ryker Theyrn was finally going to have his own kingdom. He had been taken from his birth parents because of a mark on his cheek, and raised as a prince. It was a system that had worked for more than a century now; babies who were born bearing the mark were taken in by the church and later gifted land to rule over. The Brotherhood believed that those who had the mark were descendant from their prophet and hero, King Theyrn. Theyrn had gathered all the savage men and women, ending all wars and creating the empire of Glyndwr. Ryker was the first commoner born with the mark in fifty years, and his ascension to kinghood was finally here. The Brotherhood had chosen an island called Lyle, which had been inhabited only by a few mercenaries for several years now.

Ryker and his advisors had arrived barely a day ago; the land was very flat, consisting of diving valleys that stretched out toward the horizon. The island was small; however the open fields almost tricked the eye. The air felt cleaner somehow, and Ryker felt a swelling in his chest for the island. Lyle would be a good place, he believed, a good place to raise a family and live harmoniously, he would make sure of it.

“Sire,” Arni called from behind where Ryker stood. “Are you ready to meet your queen?”

“I’m not king yet, Arni” Ryker replied over his shoulder. “And she’s not my wife yet, so how could she be my queen?”

Arni laughed cheerfully in agreement. Ryker was not certain on his thoughts of the men the Brotherhood had sent to be his advisors. Arni – the senior of the two, had a large belly for a man sworn to serve the church. And the other, Leif, appeared to be younger than Ryker himself. But in a way he was relieved to be away from the constant gaze of the Brotherhood, as he was finally being given the freedom to become his own man.

“Sire?” Arni asked tentatively, appearing at Ryker’s side. “You’re being very quiet.”

“I’m full of thought,” Ryker answered. “What do you know of this woman they’re sending me?”

“She’s very beautiful,” Arni said persuasively.

“You’ve already told me that,” Ryker replied with a snigger. “What about her temperament? And her personality?”

The older man gave a desperate shrug, and Ryker turned away from him with a sigh. He supposed it didn’t matter, he had to marry her no matter what she was like. The Brotherhood had spent a long time trying to find the right woman for him, so he’d been told. Originally he’d been informally betrothed to Princess Neith – daughter of the High King Rylan. He wasn’t completely informed on why that betrothal never went ahead, but he’d never really imagined himself married to Neith either.

Ryker looked up hesitantly as the ramp was lowered onto the sand; he cleared his throat and nervously straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Three figures made their way deftly down onto the beach, each hooded and cloaked with their faces hidden. Two of the women stood either side the one who Ryker guessed to be his future wife. He stepped forward as the women came to stop in front of him.

“Welcome,” he said. “This is Lyle, and I am Ryker.”

“If you’re Ryker,” the woman on left blurted. “Where’s your crown?”

“He has yet to be crowned,” scolded the woman on the right.

Ryker nodded, hiding a smile. “That’s correct, I’ll be crowned once the building of the church is completed.”

“As it is written, ‘a church of the Brotherhood cannot be called so without the crowning of a king to bless the stone.’”

Ryker blinked and looked at the woman who had spoken; she stood with a reserved kind of grace and was noticeably shorter than the other two. Her head was dropped low and he couldn’t quite see her face, but Ryker felt the flutter of excitement in him. He swooped toward her and reached for her hand. She pulled away at first, surprised by his sudden approach, but relaxed her hand into his. 

“I’m Ryker,” he said to her alone.

“My… Name is Leda,” she replied shyly. 

He did not move away – he stood there waiting and watching her. She stared away from him, with her head tilted down. He still had not seen her face. Slowly, she began to inch her gaze up at him, and he waited patiently. He liked her already, for some reason. Perhaps it was the softness in her, the quiet and modest aura she possessed. Whatever it was, he told himself, he would have to send a thank you note to the Brotherhood.