Chapter 12 - Truths of Garlin

Jaron watched as Matthew walked towards the stairs. He just had to catch him, to talk to him, to figure out what it was he had actually said to him. Jaron was not used to people talking to him as Matthew just had. Most heard that he was from House Kensly and everything after that was polite and kind. Never had anyone actually spoken their mind to Jaron as Matthew did.

Celes had been at Jaron’s side when he started through the hall, but had since left it and disappeared into the crowd. He was glad she was gone. There was something about being in her presence that clouded his mind. He was not exactly sure what it was, however it was more than her beauty. At least Jaron thought that it was something more. Jaron had been surrounded by beautiful young girls most of his life and none had the effect that Celes Debeart had on him.

Jaron noticed Cedric standing beside the stairs talking with Lieutenant Alexander at about the same moment that Cedric noticed Matthew, and then Jaron, heading in his direction. Jaron jerked his head towards Matthew hoping that Cedric understood the motion as a signal to stop the young man. He nodded and stepped in front of Matthew, blocking him from the stairs.

The two men exchanged a few words, but Cedric would not move. The large man’s left hand rested on his sword. Jaron knew that to draw his sword with his left hand would be awkward, seeing it was on his left hip. He knew however that it would take only a moment for the man to shift, holding the sheathed weapon steady so that he could quickly draw it with his right.

Jaron finally got to the small group and motioned to Cedric as he spoke, “Is there a problem Lord Kensly?”

“No,” Jaron said as Matthew turned to look at him. He met the young man’s eyes, thinking he couldn’t be more than a year or two older than he was, “There is no problem Cedric, I just think that there may have been a misunderstanding during our conversation and I wanted to be sure to clear it up before Master Matthew could leave.”

The two continued to look into one another’s eyes. Jaron hoped that Matthew could see the sincerity in his own eyes, the message that he meant him no harm and that he just wanted to talk. Matthew’s dark green eyes bore into Jaron. He was not sure what it was about the boy that caused him to look away first, but he broke the gaze to notice Miktan was nearing the group.

“I do hope that my young friend has not caused any trouble Lord Jaron,” the man gave a smile that Jaron was sure would weakened the defenses of anyone in the room. It was kind and trusting, as if you could tell the man anything and it would be safe.

“No trouble Master Miktan, I just wanted to speak with Jaron some more, to apologize,” Jaron paused as he tried to piece together what he was going to say, “I wanted to apologize for misunderstanding what you said before Master Matthew, I may have spoken too harshly in response and I did not want to offend you. Instead, I hope that you will accompany me to continue our conversation, that I can better understand what it is you were explaining to me.”

Matthew shifted suspiciously before speaking, “I am not sure I can explain it in a way that would be to your satisfaction my lord.”

“Well, there is no better way to see that to try,” Jaron said, giving a smile that he hoped would come across much like Miktan’s had.

Matthew glanced to Miktan, then to Cedric, before nodding to Jaron. Jaron motioned Matthew towards one of the doors and took up step beside him. The two walked in silence until they were through the door and it had shut behind them.

“I’m sorry if I offended you Lord Jaron, I lost control for a moment and did not mean to speak to you in such a way,” Matthew said, the words streaming from his mouth.

“It is nothing,” Jaron said, trying to calm the other man, “I meant you no harm, and I am not offended. At least, I think not. I feel more confused at what you said back there, and would wish to talk about it more, so that I might better understand.”

Matthew looked at Jaron suspiciously, “I mean you no offense my lord, but I am not entirely sure I would be comfortable having that conversation with you. I am afraid of what the outcome might be.”
Jaron thought he began to understand as Matthew’s eyes shifted to the sword on his waist, “I give you my word, on my honor as a noble, as the son of a High Lord, that no matter what you say to me no matter if you offend me, that you will leave here this night the same as you arrived, and that I will never bring harm to you based on the words you speak to me this night.”

Matthew hesitated, seeming to weigh the words given him before speaking, “I suppose I can’t argue with the word of a High Lord.”

Jaron cringed, “I do have one request however, if you could refrain from using my title and simply calling me Jaron?”

“I will do my best,” Matthew said with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“This way,” Jaron said motioning down the hall.

He and Matthew travelled down the hallway in relative silence, except when Jaron would direct him down a side hall. He noticed that the young man, nearly a hand taller than he was, seemed to almost blend in with the shadow when they would reach an area between two torches, or a dark area in a hallway.

Finally they reached the sitting room that Jaron was looking for. It was out of the way, and a good distance from the hall. It was unlikely that anyone would disturb the two there, so they could talk in peace. Jaron was comforted by the fact that he could finally get away from all the bowing and scraping that had been taking place during the banquet.

They entered the room. It was one of the simpler of the sitting rooms in the manor. It had a single stone fireplace mirrored by a tapestry on the opposite wall. A portrait of Derrad Kensly, Jaron’s great, great grandfather, hung over the fireplace. Plush armchairs circled a low table decorated with fresh flowers.
Jaron took the torch from outside the sitting room and used it to ignite the logs already sitting in the fireplace. He replaced the torch to his mount outside the room and went to work lighting the oil lanterns on the wall. When he finished, he sat in one of the armchairs and motioned Matthew to sit. He hesitated, but finally sat in the chair across the table from Jaron.

“Now, I was confused by what it said to me out in the courtyard,” Jaron started, not wanting to waste any more time in understanding what had been said to him, “you spoke of hardships, troubles of living in the city. You spoke of begging and stealing to survive as if you yourself have to suffer in such a way.”

Matthew stared into the fireplace, never looking away as he spoke, “That would be because I do.”
Jaron’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean, you do not look like on that suffers.” Jaron looked over the other man’s clothes. They were well made, of the same quality that Jaron wore. They were tailored to Matthew’s build, and could not be cheap, let alone stolen.

Matthew gave a weak laugh, “Clothes, the way one talks, the way one acts; these things can be faked, can be used in a way to play a part. These clothes were given to me by Miktan. He paid for them to be made. Tonight is the only night I have ever worn clothes such as these. Everything I have shown tonight has been a lie,” Matthew lifted his eyes to look at Jaron, “everything except what I said to you.”

“Explain,” Jaron said, hoping that it did not sound like an order.

His eyes returning to the fire, Matthew spoke, “When I was around two years old, my parents died. I was sent to the orphanage where I lived until I was fourteen. Then, I was kicked out, told to survive on my own. I looked for work, I spent an entire month looking. I scoured the city, I even went out to some of the nearby farms, but no one was going to hire a fourteen year old boy that they would have to teach everything to, not when they had sons or daughters they could teach; not when there were young boys half my age willing to learn, more easily taught.”

Jaron stared at the man across from him, enthralled by his words. He continued, “So, I started stealing. Well, I was recruited actually, by another that had been kicked out of the orphanage. With him, and others he had gathered, we began to survive. We stole to survive,” Matthew looked up at Jaron again, “only what we needed mind you, never anything more,” his eyes dropped away again, “everyday we fight this city just to live. Everyday we steal, food, clothes, anything, just to make it to the next day. It isn’t like we want to live like this, we have to. It’s either that, or we just die out on the street to have our bodies found and burned.”

“I was told,” Jaron said, “that those that left the orphanage were given money to survive.”

“Five fangs,” Matthew said with disgust, “I was given five copper fangs when I left. Five fangs doesn’t even feed a person for a day, not if they want to eat decently,” he laughed, “I made it last almost two weeks.”

“I’m sorry, I did not know,” Jaron said, dropping his head to look at the floor.

“Of course you didn’t,” Matthew said. It was quiet, but deliberate, “You, who live here in this manor, who live completely cut off from the city. How could you know? How could you really know what it’s like? I’ve seen guards that look on me with pity, because they almost know what it’s like out there. They see what really goes on.”

Jaron looked up at Matthew, “But, my family, we give money to the city to take care of those that have nothing.”

“I know, but it is given to the elderly, to those too weak to fend for themselves, before it is ever even seen by one like me,” Matthew explained as he continued to stare into the fire, “They deserve it. I still have the strength, the ability, to make it out there. Those people, they’ve fought their entire lives to make it out of the situation they’re in, only to get kicked back down every time they make it to their feet.”

“There must be something that can be done!” Jaron said, hoping for a some sort of suggestion.

Matthew looked at him, a look that was somewhere between indignation and surprise on his face, “As long as there are nobles, there will be the poor. As long as there are people that have plenty, there will be those that have none. There is nothing that can be done, it is a reality that we all must face. I hold no ill-will towards you or your family. You do what you can to ease the suffering of the people. If all the nobles of Garlin did the same, then maybe the lives of those at the bottom wouldn’t be so bad. However, can you see House Danar, or House Bething giving anything outside of what they had to in order to make things easier out there? I doubt it, Lord Danar would be more likely to propose to cleanse the streets completely, killing those that he saw as ‘not fit for society’, am I wrong?”

Jaron drooped, “I suppose not.”

“Again, I apologize for coming at you like I did,” Matthew said, meeting Jaron’s eyes, “It is impossible for you to truly know the state of things in the city, but at the same time, for you to wish to have a different life is just something that I find offensive to me. You, who are in a position to change things, wishing for a life out there. I just don’t understand how you could wish such a thing.”

“In the same way, it is difficult for you to understand my life in here,” Jaron motioned to the room around him, “As you said, I am separated from the city. I am safe in here. Safe from any out there that would wish me harm. However, my entire day is scheduled. There is nothing that has not been planned out in advance. I am a prisoner in my life just as much as you are in yours. I wish for something unexpected,” Jaron raised a hand to motion to Matthew, “Something like you. Never did I expect to be speaking with someone like you tonight, about something like this.”

Matthew grinned, “I suppose I can understand, a little.”

“There is so much that I would give to have a life in which I would not know what was coming next. A life where I had to worry,” Jaron sighed heavily.

“‘Be careful, that you would get that what you wish for, and find that it is not what you thought it would be,’” Matthew said, sitting up straight, finger raised knowingly, “That’s something that matron in the orphanage would always say to anyone that wished for anything. It’s true though. More often than not, what we think we want isn’t what we expect when we get it.”

Jaron chuckled, “I suppose you are right. I also suppose that I have been away for too long. I am sure my mother is worried about where I have disappeared to, and my father, well…” Jaron let the phrase hang.

The two rose, putting out the lamps and shutting the door and flue on the fireplace to choke out the flames. They left the room and returned to the hall. When they entered, Jaron’s father was speaking to Cedric. The man looked backed into a corner. When the large individual noticed Jaron, he pointed at him. Jaron’s father spun and stared at Jaron.

Well, this should be fun, Jaron thought as he strode towards his father.

——————————

Celes Debeart sat in the high-backed chair across from her uncle. The man was thin but held himself in a way that would seem threatening to most. He hair was dark brown, almost as dark as Celes’ was, though the gray streaks at his temples seemed to lighten the rest of his hair. He sat, elbows on the desk, fingers peaked. He pressed the fingers to his lips, contemplating something. His dueling cane, fixed with a large sapphire fixed into the silver grip.

“So,” the older man said, pulling his hands from his face, “you think that you can use these two?”

“Uncle,” the words flowed from her mouth, “with my abilities, there are none that can resist me.”
The man eyed her with suspicion, “And you hold to the fact that you have done no weaving on me? You have left my mind clear?”

“Uncle, I gave you my word, if that is no good, then I have nothing,” she said with a smile.

“There is a little too much of your father in you child,” Lord Bething said, “Excuse me if I have trouble trusting you.”

Celes gave a light laugh. She knew the hatred Juston Bething had for her father, but she also knew his respect for the man. It had taken a lot of work on her father’s part to become a High Lord of Beldin in such short time. A lot of work indeed, but he had trained her well, and she would not have the trouble carrying out her plans that he had found carrying out his.

“Uncle, by the end of the week, the first seal will be released and we will be well on our way towards our final goal,” she curled a strand of hair around her finger, “I know it is hard to do, but you must trust me. Without you, my plans are useless, so I will do nothing to harm you or your family.”

She meant what she said. If she did anything to lose the help of her uncle, then if something were to go wrong, she had no one to place the blame on. She had everything planned, or better, the ones she was working for had everything planned. She knew that she too was just a pawn, but she had plans to become more, plans that those that moved the pieces had no clue about.