laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

After a week of rest and finally some exercise, Alexander was cleared to leave. The stitches had been removed after a local druidess produced some healing herbs which had been worth their weight in gold during the past year. No other evidence had been found on his attacker and now that their horses were rested, he shouldered his backpack and walked from the small room that he had been healing in. Turning left, he noticed Sir Kenneth standing in the long hallway and glance towards him.

"How do you fare this morn, Alex?"

"Fine, sir. Yourself?"

"Well. Just hoping to end this long road finally and rest in our own apartment back in Kecel. I may not recognize it after this past year."

Alex smiled, then realized that many of his friends back home may not even be there when they returned. As he glanced into Sir Stephen's room, he noticed it was empty.

"He carried his own gear out this morning," Kenneth informed as Alex turned, perplexed. "Said that he's been without much exercise for the past week and his arms are feeling flabby." The knight shrugged, then turned and led the squire towards the main sanctuary. Tall, the high ceilinged church's main room towered over them as priests and younger acolytes tended to their chores and he remembered that Darvin grew up here. Stephen stood within the central aisle as Kenneth walked to the raised dais and knelt, setting his backpack on the floor behind him as Alex followed suit.

"I ask for safe travel to our home and hope that all of your servants in the world are boldly carrying out your will against our enemies. I thank you that you've saved my life again and I hope that my enemy feels justice soon. Care for my father and mother as well as everyone who lives within your graces." He waited patiently for the cool shiver down his spine or some sign of recognition, but found none. Opening his eyes, he rose, grabbed his pack and followed the remaining knights towards their horses out front.
The cloudy day was warm and he could almost smell the rain in the light breeze as he climbed into the saddle and guided his steed down the busy street.

After the long road to Purbeck, the group of forty-five templar claimed space on the floor of the small sanctuary. Now Umealv, the heat was becoming familiar as he unsaddled the horses and brushed them down. Rising, the dancing heatwaves marred the clay yard and well that rested beyond the entrance to the stables. He didn't miss this.

Stomping, his horse stepped up which caught his attention as he resumed brushing to catch sight of the individual standing to his right and in the rear of the stall.

"Hello," he greeted apprehensively at the tall, leather armored man. His strong jawline, cut features and thick brow framed his tanned face and dark brown eyes that stared. "Is there something that I can help you with," Alexander asked as his horse glanced over his shoulder.

"I was looking for your father, Sir Lericanin. I was told that you had seen him some time ago and that you may be able to help me," his deep voice stated.

Nervous, Alex wasn't sure how to answer that. "I'm an orphan from the city of Kecel, sorry. You must have me confused with someone else."

His long grin creased the gritty face and pronounced a long scar that began near his left eye and ended just under his cheek. "Really? I was sure that you were his boy. I can see him in you, without a doubt."

"If that's true, then I'd like to meet him also. How do you know him?" Alex queried coyly.

"He and I go way back, to the army actually. We both served the duke of Kecel in the Kumai and I had heard that he normally showed up near Carbost on occasion. I also know his family in Anderslough."

"I wish I could help you, sir," he shrugged, studying the fighter whose longsword and scabbard were of exceptional quality.

"Where are you coming from," the man asked, patting the warhorse on the rump.

"We've been fighting to the north for the past year," he stated, hoping that someone would come to his aid in case this man decided to fight. His sword was with his gear inside and he suddenly felt naked without it. "I didn't get your name, sir."

Grinning, the man looked over his shoulder. "If you wish to know more about your father, I can fill you in about most of his life," he offered as he stepped back and sat on the top board of the fenced wall, then eyed Alex again.

"Like I said, I'm an orphan from Kecel. I have no parents but the church."

He nodded. "I heard what you said. We both know that we all have parents, irregardless of what we choose to believe. Mine are both gone now but, you still have a future with yours, if you chose to."

Apprehension began to build and Alexander wasn't sure whether or not this person was laying another trap for him. His brow furrowed. "Why is my family so important to you?"

"Because, I have none and your father and I had spent many years fighting together. We became like brothers and I miss him at times. I know you have many questions about him and I can help you out with that. I can answer your questions while you brush," he motioned to the awaiting horse.

Sighing, he realized that he wasn't going to rid himself of this intruder that easily. He shook his head and resumed tending to his steed as his mind raced and sweat beaded. As the brush cleaned the dark brown skin before him, he coursed over the list he had compiled during the trip from Couronne. "Was he ever married?"

"No. He wanted to but, that was foiled by her father who married her to another. He's never stopped thinking about her though. A hopeless romantic trapped in a warrior's body, that one," he chuckled. "How's your training coming by the way?"

"Well. How did he and my mother meet?"

"In a pond near his parent's orchard. He said he fell in love with her the moment he saw her."

Alex turned to his new friend and noticed the neutral features staring back quietly. "Why did he let her go?"

Chuckling, "He didn't. Her father's guards came to find her and took them both away. Lericanin nearly rotted in that cell until her father gave him an ultimatum to either join the army or die in a hangman's noose. He chose the former over the latter. Wisely."

Turning to square on the man again. "That's impossible, my mother's family are commoners in Kecel. They don't have guards."

He cleared his throat as brown eyes studied him. "Interesting that she didn't recognize a family heirloom when you showed her, isn't it? You never caught onto that when you and Sir Kenneth visited her in the tavern that day?"

Alex's brow furrowed. "How did you know about that?"

"I know a lot about you, Alexander. Apparently more than you do about yourself."

Nervous adrenaline began pumping. "Who are you?" his fists clenched as he was ready to chase the man from the stable.

"A friend," he stated calmly. "You have no need to fear me nor any reason to think that I have nothing more than your safety in mind. Your mother sent me to see you and let you know that she's ever prayed and thought about you since you were taken that night you were born. She aches knowing that your future is always in the path of danger. As a matter of fact, your father carved a pendant with your likeness and that of her new daughter, Breeana before they parted when he and his friends rescued her."

Alexander was ready to fight as his sense of duty and need to find out about his past kept conflicting with one another. "Leave me alone."

Nodding softly, the fighter grinned. "I'll be in town if you want to talk later. Fare thee well, Alexander." He hopped down and walked from the darker interior out into the daylight as Alex glowered. Turning, he finished his chores, then headed inside to the cooler shade of the church as several other squires completed preparations for dinner. He pushed through them and on to the main sanctuary and wished for some privacy as Sir Kenneth approached.

"Everything taken care of?" the knights-templar asked.

"Yes, sir," the short answer as Alex evaded direct eye contact.

Kenneth leaned over, "You alright?"

He nodded, "I will be, yes, sir."

Kenneth backed. "If there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"I will, sir. Thank you." He walked away without being dismissed and headed to his backpack then sat down. As he sighed, he reached into his shirt and pulled out the silver necklace that his mother had sent to the church when he was only nine and studied it. As his eyes carressed the ruby, the man's voice recalled the moment when Charlotte saw the pendant without recognition. All these years. How could she make him beleive that she was his mother and it not be true? The man had to be a liar but, the more he thought about the facts, the more he began to realize that his need to believe it was more powerful. He had fooled himself.