"The four of us... have decided to stay here."
My words hung heavy in the air.
Sir Lawrence’s appearance looked more intimidating than usual, accented by the orange glow coming from the crackling fireplace. His shadow stretched long across the wooden floor, and the firelight flickered across his face, hiding and revealing the lines of age carved there.
He didn’t look surprised—though I bet he was, inwardly.
The old knight studied our faces from across the table. His eyes swept over each of us at the opposite bench, with the weight of a man who had already seen too many decisions made by boys far too young.
"The four of you? Here in Candor?" he finally said, mentioning what apparently was the name of the town, "And whose decision was that?" Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on noveⅼfire.net
"It was... our individual decisions," I replied carefully, shifting in my seat. "But it stemmed from Lady Elena’s choice to stay."
Sir Lawrence’s gaze shifted to Elena, who had fallen asleep beside Edmund. It had been a long day, and on the way back from the chapel she hadn’t stayed awake for long and had to be piggybacked.
"She doesn’t want to go back to Castor?" he asked next, as I had predicted he would.
I told him what she revealed to us in the chapel. That she had no mother to return to—her mother had died a year ago. That the baron’s estate was in ruins, his debts piling higher than his crops. That it was those debts that had chased him aboard the Defiant Resolve
There was nothing waiting for her in Castor but empty halls and angry creditors.
I also told him what she had whispered to me in the graveyard.
"She doesn’t want to leave her father alone, in so foreign a land," I said.
The old knight let out a long, heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair until it creaked.
"The dead need no company," he said slowly, "That can’t be said about the living. It is she who can’t do without her father. He was all she had."
For a moment he stared at Elena’s sleeping form, lost in thought. His eyes softened, and at last, a sad smile crept onto his weathered face.
"So all three of you want to stay with her..." he turned back to us, his gaze sharp again.
"I understand Edmund," he said, his eyes briefly flicking toward the squire. "He has served the baron for a long time. And Master Devon here"—he gave me a knowing look—"might feel it is his duty to continue protecting the young lady after that talk with the baron a few days ago."
Sir Lawrence then paused, his eyes narrowing on Clifford. "But you, Master Clifford... I wonder what your reason is?"
Clifford stiffened. He hadn’t expected the question. The honest answer—his real reason—was that he wanted to keep pestering me. He hadn’t given up on knowing more about the so-called demigod disguised as a sixteen-year-old baronet’s son.
I suspected he thought there was more to gain by staying close to me, by winning my favor, than seeing whatever opportunities Enasses might hold.
But he couldn’t say that.
"Well... I... I think they’ll need an adult to accompany them," Clifford began, his words fumbling out. He straightened his back, puffing his chest, trying to look more respectable. "And not am I only older... I think you’ve seen for yourself, my magical prowess is not to be trifled with. I can provide both security and guidance."
Somehow, he managed to piece together a defense.
Sir Lawrence studied him a moment longer, then nodded as if satisfied.
"Well, I think the three of you are trustworthy young men," he said at last. "Even Edmund here... I believe is just often misunderstood."
"Finally someone who—" Edmund blurted out loud, then quickly stopped when Elena stirred and groaned faintly against his shoulder.
"Finally someone who gets me," he muttered again, this time quieter, almost sheepish.
Sir Lawrence shot him a glare that made him shrink into his seat.
"That said," the knight continued firmly, "I urge you to give this matter a good thought. I have decided to postpone the ship’s departure until tomorrow morning. Find out if you still feel the same after a good night’s sleep."
He tapped the armrest of his chair with a heavy finger. "Not to mention, I will need to speak with the young lady herself."
And so we did—gave it a night to think over.
Do we really want to stay in this backward small town? Can we endure the daily walks on muddy streets streaked with chicken poop? Coexist with people who smell like fish and have the accent of a cow chewing grass? And be willing to babysit a bereaved baron’s daughter?
Or do we go back to the ship, with its teeth-strengthening, character-building diet of hardtack and brine, and the thrilling routine of eating, sleeping, watching water move and spotting funny-shaped clouds in the sky?
And all of that to reach Enasses, which was not only backward, but also mostly uncharted and rife with many chances to meet another disaster like the one that befell us in Lacquer.
---
Sleep was only a brief respite.
We heard Elena cry in her room long before dawn, her sobs muffled but unrelenting. She had woken up and realized her father was still gone—that it wasn’t just a terrible nightmare. She cried until breakfast.
By the time the sun rose, she had no tears left, only a hollow quiet. She sat before a plate of untouched food, pale and drawn.
It was then Sir Lawrence chose to speak with her about what we had told him last night.
The voyage must resume within a few hours.
Despite her sorrow, Elena found the strength to sit upright and think. From her seat at the long table, she looked at each of us one by one. Her small hands trembled against the wood, but her voice came out clear enough.
"I can’t leave Papa alone," she muttered at last, shaking her head. "No... he never did leave me. I... I can’t betray him."
Sir Lawrence shifted in his chair. He scratched his grey head, stroked his chin, and traced his fingers across the table as though buying time, waiting for her to change her mind.
A full minute passed in silence.
"And do you think you can trust these three?" Sir Lawrence finally asked, his eyes narrowing.
Her gaze turned to us. We stiffened immediately, standing straighter, as if the sheer excellence of our posture could somehow improve her opinion.
She gave a small, firm nod.
Sir Lawrence nodded back, "Alright then... but I cannot leave you, a lone girl, in the company of three young men."
I was just a kid then. I hadn’t thought of that. I was sure none of us had bad intentions, but even I knew how it would look to outsiders.
"I will hand you a small entourage of servants from the ship," Sir Lawrence said at last, his tone brooking no argument. "As well as all of your father’s belongings."
The old knight stood, stepped to Elena’s side and bent slightly. He took her small hand in his own rough one. He kissed it gently, his lips brushing her knuckles.
"I am truly sorry for your loss, my lady" he said softly. "And I hope we will meet again... in much better spirits."