Work Text:
Jaron's Pov
The southern town of Benton in Carthya lay quiet beneath the late afternoon light. Roden, Tobias and I had ridden here two days ago when a report of an alarming fire on the outskirts of the town had reached us. The border soldiers stationed nearby had acted swiftly and contained the fire before it could spread to town proper. By the time we had arrived, the danger had already passed. A few homes had been scorched. But no lives were lost.
We had stayed to assess the damage and reassure the people. Tobias had spent most of the last two days tending the injured people of the town who had been caught in the fire. The victims were recovering well. By the end of the second day, the victims were stable and some were even sitting up and speaking again. There was nothing that required our attention here anymore. We could have returned back to Drylliad tomorrow. But Tobias had wished to stay for another day to check on the victims. Though I had agreed, it meant Roden and I would be free tomorrow.
We were staying at a modest inn near the center of Benton. I sat at the small desk in my room by the window with a parchment before me and a quill in hand. I was writing to Kerwyn, explaining the situation in Benton and informing him that we would return in two days. The candle beside me burned low as I wrote the letter.
That was when the door opened as Roden entered the room. He glanced around the room, then asked. “Where is Tobias?”
“He is checking on the victims again,” I replied without looking up. “He wants to stay here for another day.”
Roden huffed softly. “That is just like him.”
I continued writing and said. “I am writing to Kerwyn to let him know of the delay.” After a beat, I added, “But that will leave us with nothing to do tomorrow.”
Roden considered this, then crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I could find a swordsmith in town,” he said. “Have my blade sharpened while we are here.”
That made me sigh and I set down my quill. “Yes, but I would be alone. You are so remarkably inconsiderate, Roden.”
His head snapped up. “What?” He glared at me. “What do you mean by that? What is your problem?”
“What I mean,” I said, turning slightly in my chair, “We are both free tomorrow, and Benton was your home for most of your life, was it not? You grew up here. Yet your first thought is to abandon me for a swordsmith. Surely you could spare a day to show me around. I have rarely been to the southern towns of Carthya.”
It was true enough. Roden had spent his childhood in an orphanage in Benton and had never left the place until Conner had brought him to Farthenwood. Roden was Harlowe's son but after his birth, he was taken away by an Avenian woman in an attempt to extract ransom from Harlowe. Before any exchange could be made she had died and left Roden with a midwife who had sent him to the orphanage in this town.
I had passed through Benton before, once or twice as a prince with my family and had come here on official visits as king sometimes, but I had never truly seen it. I had never explored this place. Though I had traveled widely as Sage, Benton had never been among those places.
“Why don't we go out tomorrow and spend the day here? You could show me the town.”
Roden's head snapped as he stood up quickly, staring at me as if I had spoken in some unfamiliar language. “You want to spend time with me tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I said. “Why does that surprise you?”
He hesitated, then said. “Why? I thought you liked spending time alone, Jaron.”
I grinned and rose from the my chair, folding the letter carefully in my hands. “Then I will take that as a yes.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I reached for my cloak. “I must give this to a messenger before the hour grows too late.” I said, moving toward the door. As I passed him, I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
Roden remained standing in the center of the room, still looking as though he had not yet decided what precisely he was meant to say. Before he could find the right words to answer, I left the room. Though I wondered why such a simple request had unsettled him so much.
Third person Pov
Roden remained where Jaron had left him, standing in the middle of the room with no clear sense of what to do next. The door had barely closed before the quiet pressed around him as the conversation replayed in his mind. He had faced many battles without hesitation, yet the prospect of a single unstructured day with Jaron alone unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
By the time he made his way down to the dining room, the inn had begun to fill with the low murmur of evening voices. Plates clinked, chairs scraped softly across the floor, and the smell of bread and roasted meat hung warm in the air. He took a seat near one of the long wooden tables where a meal had already been set before him, though he made no effort to eat it. His thoughts were still tangled because of what had Jaron asked him an hour ago.
Tobias arrived not long after, carrying his own tray. He paused when he noticed Roden and slid into the seat across from him. His eyes widened as he glanced at Roden’s plate.
“You are not going to eat that?” Tobias asked, pointing at the food. “That is unusual for you.”
Roden's thoughts broke as he stared at Tobias, then looked down at his plate and sighed.
Tobias studied him more carefully. “What is wrong?”
Roden hesitated, then said, “Jaron wants to go out with me tomorrow.”
Tobias raised his eyebrows. “So?”
“So,” Roden repeated, frowning, “Jaron wants to spend time with me tomorrow. Just the two of us.”
Tobias considered this for a moment. “And what is the problem with that?”
Roden shifted in his seat. “We have never done that. Not like this. When we are alone we usually argue or fight with swords. I follow him as the captain of his guard. Most times when we are together, we fight battles or nearly get ourselves killed. Or we enjoy the time with everyone else. But we have never spent a day together with the two of us walking around a town as friends.”
A beat passed before he added more quietly, “Besides, Jaron prefers being alone whenever he is free. That is how it always has been.”
Tobias gave a small, thoughtful nod. “It is very normal for friends to spend time together Roden. You are making it sound far stranger than it is.”
“It is strange,” Roden insisted, “because it is Jaron who suggested it.”
Tobias considered this for a few seconds, then said. “Then perhaps you should show him the town. Benton is your home after all. Jaron has rarely been here.”
Roden let out another sigh. “He said the same thing. I am nervous Tobias. I have no idea where we should go.”
Tobias leaned back slightly and smiled. “I understand. You have never spent time with Jaron in that way. But I am sure it will turn out well.”
Roden looked down at his food. “I hope you are right.”
Tobias listened to Roden’s unease with patience, then at last offered what seemed, to him, an obvious solution. He suggested that Roden should simply take Jaron to places he himself liked in Benton. It did little to ease Roden’s nerves, but he nodded all the same. Familiarity of the town did not make the task easier. If anything, it complicated it. The problem was not Benton. The problem was Jaron.
Jaron's Pov
The next morning, I finished breakfast early and stepped outside the inn to wait for Roden as I watched the street with my arms folded. The air was cool and carried the faint smell of damp stone and baking bread. It was an ordinary town, which somehow made it more interesting than most. It felt strange to have nowhere I needed to be and no one waiting on my decisions. Stranger still was that I was waiting for Roden.
Roden hadn't come out of the inn yet. After a few minutes I wondered if he had forgotten entirely that I had asked him yesterday to spend the day together with me. Now that I thought of it he had looked unsettled enough, though I still couldn't tell why.
Roden emerged out of the inn at last, adjusting his cloak with unnecessary care.
I raised a brow. “Took you long enough.” Surprisingly that didn't irritate him as I had expected it would.
Instead he cleared his throat. “I overslept.”
“That is surprising. I thought you were an early riser.”
He muttered something indistinct in response.
I waved a hand, turning toward the street. “Well then, let us go.”
We began walking down the street without any clear direction at first, and almost immediately fell into silence, which stretched uncomfortably between us, growing heavier with every step. I endured it for perhaps a few minutes before deciding that this was unbearable.
“So,” I said, “where should we go first?”
“The market,” Roden answered, a little too quickly.
“That reminds me,” I said, “I noticed there is a rather large library. Tobias would have liked it.”
“Yes,” Roden agreed. “He told me he planned to visit it.”
After a pause, he added, “I can read better now, but I cannot read books like Tobias. He is a scholar, after all.”
I smiled. “He worked hard to complete the exams and begin his training as an apprentice to the castle physician. He still works just as hard to help people with what knowledge he already has. And he is also my regent and tutors Fink as well. Tobias has a lot on his plate.”
“True,” Roden nodded.
After a few more steps, he frowned. “Why are we only talking about Tobias?”
We stopped walking and I blinked a few times at him, then laughed softly. “I have no idea.”
I glanced around, then said, “We can go to the market later. Instead of the market, perhaps you could show me the orphanage you lived in.”
“What?” He stared at me. “Why would you want to go there? It was ten times worse than the orphanage you stayed in as Sage.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have seen worse.” Which was true. The one I had lived in had been worse than he realized. The orphanage of Mrs. Turbeldy in Carchar had been miserable enough. That was at least until I began repairing it after claiming the throne. Most days there had been enough food for only five or six boys, and even then it had been nothing more than bean bread. On rare days the portions were better, though that improvement had often come because I had stolen food for the others and myself.
After becoming king, I had returned to Mrs. Turbeldy's orphanage and ensured the children there would never go hungry again, that they would have proper beds to sleep in, proper rooms, and would receive proper education. It was the least I could do to repay her for letting Sage stay there.
I shared some of this to Roden as we walked. “I have been trying to fix the conditions of the orphanages I visited as Sage. After I became king, I returned to Mrs. Turbeldy’s orphanage in Carchar and made sure the children there have whatever they needed to live there.”
That genuinely startled Roden.
“Mrs. Turbeldy still refuses to recognize me as king,” I added with a grin. “No matter what I say or wear, I am Sage to her. So perhaps she is stupider than you.”
“Watch it, Jaron,” Roden glared at me.
I cut in smoothly. “You did not believe Sage was me for quite some time either after I became king, no matter what I said. Probably not until our fight at the pirate camp.”
He frowned. “You tricked me. I was angry and I was not thinking clearly.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough.” Then I became serious again. “In any case, I intend to do the same for other orphanages across Carthya. If I am to improve Benton’s orphanage, I should visit it first. And it was your home. I want to see it.”
He hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But you will not like it any more than the other orphanages.”
He was correct. The orphanage was in poor condition. It stood in a narrow, neglected lane. The building was sagged in places and was worse than Mrs. Turbeldy’s had ever been. That alone was saying something. Its walls were stained, its windows were cracked and were poorly mended.
The owner of the orphanage in Benton, a man named Grippings, greeted us with thin politeness that quickly faded when he saw Roden.
His expression soured. “You,” he said sharply. “Why are you here? I thought I was rid of you the day I sold you to that nobleman.”
Roden greeted him stiffly. I could tell from Grippings’s tone that he remembered Roden well. I watched the exchange, noting the annoyance in Grippings’s voice. He regarded Roden with the same disdain that Mrs. Turbeldy used to have when I’d lived in her Orphanage for Disadvantaged Boys. I knew why Mrs. Turbeldy hated me. I’d offended her nearly every day when I had stayed there and often stolen from her. I could not imagine what Roden had done to earn such contempt Master Grippings. Then again, perhaps he simply despised all boys who had lived under his roof.
He looked past Roden and then he saw me. He immediately recognized me even in my less fancier and simpler clothing. There was a certain amount of comedy associated with the moment because his manner transformed so abruptly that it was quiet amusing. He straightened at once and bowed deeply as he greeted me with sudden exaggerated respect. “My king,” he said quickly.
When he rose, he took Roden by the arm and pulled him into a corner, which was an entirely useless gesture because not only was I standing right there but I was perfectly able to hear every word he was saying although he had lowered his voice.
“Why is the king here?” he whispered urgently.
“Well…” Roden began but I cut in and answered for him as I cleared my throat.
“You see, Roden is the captain of my guard and my friend.”
Grippings looked back at Roden slowly and stared at him in disbelief. He clearly had not known this. “So you were not all talk,” he said. “When you said you would join the king’s army one day.”
Roden lifted his chin and looked quietly proud.
“We are here,” I said, “because this place was once Roden’s home, and he wishes to do something about it.”
From the corner of my eye I saw Roden turning to look at me then, unmistakable surprise crossing his face as though he was certain he had not heard me correctly. It was, after all, my idea, not his.
Before Roden could speak I added. “I have come to see the place for myself. Tell me what is needed, and when we return, I will arrange for it.”
That, seemed to shock Grippings more than anything else. Of course something like this did not happen here. Food is considered a luxury in Carthyan orphanages. They operate on whatever money an orphan inherited upon the deaths of his parents, which inevitably is little more than the shirt on his back after debts were settled. Private donations come in from time to time by wealthy citizens hoping to buy forgiveness for their favorite sins.
Nevertheless, Grippings answered my questions as I listened. I made notes in my mind, already making a list of what needed to be changed here.
Some time later, I found Roden alone in the yard. He stood near the wall, staring at nothing in particular. There was something distant in his expression, as though his thoughts had slipped away from the present, into a place only memory could reach.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
The question hung in the air before Roden spoke, in a voice quieter than I had ever heard from him. “I used to play here with Latamer.”
That stopped me.
After a beat, Roden added, “He was a good friend. We grew up together in this place. No one believed I could make myself matter in this world. Only Latamer did.”
I said nothing because I could not. I had known that Roden and Latamer came from the same orphanage. Conner had taken them both from Benton when he had come searching for boys in the orphanages all over Carthya to serve his plan of passing one of the boys as prince Jaron. But he had never intended to involve Latamer in his plan. Latamer had been sick. He would have failed in the challenges Conner had designed for us. Latamer had been taken to die. Conner had brought him only to make a point, to show me, Roden and Tobias how serious he was about his plan to deceive an entire kingdom with a false prince. He had killed Latamer only to force us to remain in Farthenwood.
I remembered the moment with painful clarity. The memory of Latamer turning just before he was struck with Cregan’s arrow was burned into my mind and had been relentless in my dreams at night. I had never been able to forget it.
Roden finally looked at me. “I should not have let him come with me,” he said. “I did not know then, that Conner was about to kill him. It was my fault.”
“It was not,” I said immediately. A beat passed before I added. “If it is anyone’s fault, it is probably mine.”
If there was blame to be carried, it rested with me. If only I had realized a few seconds earlier what was about to happen, that Cregan was about to shoot him on Corner's orders, it might have been enough to save Latamer. This fact haunted me even now.
Roden shook his head at me. “You are good at seeing people for who they truly are. I cannot do that, Jaron.”
I gave a weak smile. “You do know that when I do, their usual response is wanting to kill me.”
Roden did not smile in return. Rather he became more somber and said, “I did not give Latamer justice Jaron. Even after what Cregan did, I did not see him for what he was. I listened to him and let him poison my mind. I let him make me believe I could be king. I should never have listened to him. What I did …” His voice faltered. “If Latamer knew it, he would not forgive me.”
“He would forgive you,” I said. “I believe wherever he is now, he is watching you and he is proud of you. It is not easy to have a friend in an orphanage. Latamer must have been glad to have you.”
Roden studied my face, searching for truth behind my words. “You truly believe it?”
“Yes,” I said. “So you should not blame yourself. Latamer would have liked what you have become Roden.”
Roden looked at me then, really looked at me, as though weighing my words. A few seconds later he nodded slowly, and said nothing more after that.
We left the orphanage together not long after that. The streets felt strangely quiet as we walked. The afternoon stretched on and for a while neither of us spoke. At last I broke the silence.
“It is only afternoon. The day is not over yet. Where should we go now?”
Roden considered this for a moment. “There is a stall in the market. I discovered it recently. The food there is good.”
“Anything will do as long as it is better than the food at the castle.”
“The castle food is good,” he protested. “I do not understand your problem with it.”
“You cannot call that food, Roden. Half the cooks do not know how to cook at all.”
He rolled his eyes and then chuckled.
The stall we went to, was small and perfect. Roden had not exaggerated about it. The food was simple but excellent, and we ate sitting side by side, in companionable silence. When we were finished, I offered the owner double the price. I even considered offering him a position in the castle kitchen. The man stared at me as though he were uncertain whether to thank me or question my sanity.
Roden raised a brow as we walked away. “Did you really pay for that? I thought you were a thief. Do you not usually steal food?”
“I am also king, Roden,” I grinned.
He laughed at that.
Later that day, Roden showed me the places around Benton he remembered. There was nothing remarkable about them but these were the places that had mattered to him. As Roden spoke, the town began to take shape in a way it never could have for me alone. These places were pieces of his life I had never seen. I found myself listening to him more closely than I usually did. He led me through the streets he once knew by heart, past a small square where children still gathered to argue, play and laugh. He told me in a corner there was a vendor who used to sell bruised fruit cheaply near dusk.
After some time, Roden slowed and looked toward the edge of the town. “There is another place I would like to show you,” he said. “You can see beyond Benton from there. But it is a bit far.”
I looked around, then noticed a wagon pulled to the side of the road, the driver resting while his horse drank from a trough.
“Let us take the wagon,” I said.
Roden stared at me. “What?”
“It will be faster. And I doubt the driver will refuse a fair price if we pay him.
“But—”
“You have already said it is far,” I cut off. “And I am feeling uncharacteristically practical today.”
“We could walk.”
“Well, you see, I am king,” I said mildly. “And I am very tired of walking.”
That, at least, convinced him. He sighed. “You are impossible.”
“Yes,” I said pleasantly, then I called the driver.
Soon we were seated in the wagon and it rolled forward. The jolt of the wagon brought back an old memory that made me smile.
“When I first met you,” I said, “we were in a wagon as well. Though the circumstances then, were far from pleasant and not ones I would ever wish to repeat.”
Roden nodded. “Yes. Conner took you from the orphanage in Carchar. His vigils tied you up, because you were irritating and, because they feared you would run away.”
“I would like to point out,” I said, “that you were the one who ratted me out while I was pretending to be asleep,” I said.
“You were awake, Jaron,” Roden replied.
“I needed time to think and time for some unfortunately placed bruises to heal. The day was already bad enough. I nearly got myself killed by a butcher for stealing a roast. It didn't get any better after that though.”
Roden chuckled. “That sounds like a normal day for you.”
“Also you should know I still haven't forgiven you for stealing my apple.”
“You were tied up,” he said. “You could not have eaten it.”
“That does not make it yours.”
“I was hungry.”
“So was I.”
Our banter continued for some time until in the end we were both laughing. The wagon stopped near the city wall, where townspeople could walk freely. We climbed off the wagon, paid the driver and went to the the elevated walkway. There were no hills here in Benton. This artifically built place was the only high point in town.
Once we were at the top, I understood why Roden had brought me there. He had been right. The view here was very pleasant. I looked as Benton stretched out below us, flat and open, the land beyond it wide and calm.
“I used to come here sometimes,” Roden said, standing beside me. “It was far from the orphanage, but I liked it. So I walked here anyway.”
I stared out at the horizon. “It is beautiful.”
He raised a corner of his mouth. “I told you that you would like it.”
We stood in silence for a long while. The wind moved gently against my cloak. For some reason I smiled.
“Why are you smiling?” Roden asked as he glanced at me.
“Nothing,” I said. “Only that today was not a bad day.”
I turned to him. “Thank you for showing me your home town.”
He smiled and nodded at me.
I looked out again, then added, “You know, sometimes you are not bad company to have.”
That earned me a glare from him. “What do you mean sometimes?”
I grinned. “I am being generous. Do not let it go to your head.”
He only shook his head, though I caught a hint of a smile on his face. We remained there as the light began to soften. The day was about to end but neither of us were in any hurry to leave now.