Young Writers Society

Welcome to Ruddlan.

At the heart of Nye lies the city where all paths meet. Along the Axis River, the lifeblood of the Desert Sands, is the bustling city of Ruddlan, welcoming every well-worn traveler with open arms.

Over the past twenty years, Ruddlan exploded from a small river town to a trade center for every kingdom. People are constantly coming in and out of her doors; for business, pleasure, or just passing through. In the past five years, Ruddlan's become best known for the Griffin Games, which it hosts annually as a series of fights between mystical griffins - climaxing at a faceoff between the two finalists.

Ruddlan also boasts grand festivals at the turning of the seasons, celebrating every solstice and equinox.

And here, we find ourselves at another turn of the season. Within a week, citizens of Ruddlan will be hosting a week-long festival welcoming in the summer. The world-renowned Griffin Games will kick off at the end of the festival. You don't want to miss it!

With warmth and cheer, Ruddlan welcomes you for the sunniest time of year.

Meet the Locals

The Ashlunds: Overlooking the city markets of Central Ruddlan, the Ashlund clinic is known as a dependable, affordable source of medical care for residents and passers-through alike. Astrid Ashlund proudly stands as the lady of the house and head doctor of her practice. Closely apprenticing under her are Lyall Ashlund, charming eldest son and heir, and Edith Bennett, the newest nurse on staff. Prickly eldest daughter Hild works closely with both bubbly Mel Sommers, a seamstress, and Clarity Sable, the clinic's primary pharmacist and closest business partner. Ulf and Viktor are the middle sons, and Tove is the youngest at age 5. In addition to the summer festival, the clan is ready to celebrate Lyall's engagement to his partner of 1 year, and Astrid passing on her legacy to her beloved eldest son.

The Alvaros: At the upper part of the South End sits the Alvaro family, but this story takes a closer look at the twins. Alan Alvaro is studying violin performance at the university, bringing pride and joy to his family for setting a strong foundation for a successful life. With his natural ability to connect and network, Alan is well-liked among his social circle and has secured a watchful job with prominent figures in the Barlowe Estates, including with Ms. Barlowe herself. Meanwhile, Alistair Alvaro lives an almost disconnected life, rolling through his days with cigarettes and his closest friend, Shaniece Knowles. They are loyal to the Griffin Games since they make the bulk of their money in one season, but little do they know that their summer sun is about to look more blue.

The Bridgers: A wealthy family living at the heart of the Ruddlan elite, the Bridgers are old money-- to the point that it's a running joke that they make the invention of money look young. While their fortune, built on generations of practicing business and trade, may stretch back for a long time, their residence in Ruddlan is more recent, with only the youngest generation having grown up here. This younger cohort of Bridgers contains Casper, the heir to the business; Allison, a beloved starlet of Ruddlan theatre; Cyrin, a devil-may-care scholar and athlete secretly operating in the mage resistance; and Camilla and Magnus, the youngest children who are still discovering who they are.

The Anti-Magic Guild: Highlighting different areas of the guild's work, we start with Alexander Kingsman - an established solo hunter who's been working for the Ruddlan Anti-Magic guild for the past two years with an unbroken success streak for captures and kills. Working in conjunction with the guild is the guild-owned Lumshade farm, providing the coveted and integral magic-subduing drug that hunters rely on to catch mages. Aaron Keller works as the head chemist, and under his supervision, Elias Bennett manages harvesting.

The Blue Suns: Like all major cities, Ruddlan's got crime. The Blue Suns are a notoriously dangerous gang with anchors in every major city, and Ruddlan is no exception. Various "suns" roam Ruddlan on different assignments. Wilson does intel and drug trafficking. Bency and Andrea distribute and sell drugs within the city. Mireya is a sly, spunky thief as well as a drug trader. And Sparrow - well, he's the kingpin. Best stay away from him.

Meet the Outsiders

The Hawkings: A noble family of Lettera, the Hawkings serve the kingdom's interest in the field of democracy. Gwen Hawking, the Letteran ambassador, will be visiting Ruddlan this summer with her husband Ray for a variety of reasons-- to hold diplomatic meetings, to enjoy the festival, and to visit her son Shane, who is a full-time resident of Ruddlan and a graduate student of history and law at the local university. Shane, while being an academic known for his brilliance and a figure of significant influence, is rather reclusive, most often found at a secluded part of a library or watching the world from the window of his home. Perhaps this summer will open new doors for him.

The King's Hand: These five soldiers are the elite of the elite. They are the most dedicated, loyal, and skilled of the Moonlight Kingdom's army, and are the trusted representatives of King Blackfield and his Kingdom. Of the five include Carter Haddon, the son of the Guild Headmasters; James Hawke, the decorated war hero; Ingrid Price, master war strategist; Hellen Lannom, weapons expert; and Kirk Fayek, the king's alchemist. Together they visit Ruddlan this summer on the king's behalf for political negotiations and to investigate a surge of magic incidents in Ruddlan's walls. Along with them travels Caspar, their stagecoach driver, horse handler, and point-person for their travel needs.

The Resistance: Hidden in the background, an underground network composed of mages and mage sympathizers fight to save and preserve mage-kind. At the forefront of the fight are a group of powerful mages: Bo - a lightning mage, Mel - a healing mage, Robin - a werewolf, and Raj - an earth mage. Under their leadership are many others joining the fight to rescue mages across Nye, but especially here in Ruddlan: Eve, Hendrik, and Cyrin. While their efforts often go unseen by the public eye, they are remembered forever by the ones they save as they move in and out of the city.

It was a beautiful summer day. The sky was clear. The air was clean. The smell of wildflowers carried on a light breeze through the shade of the forest over the dusty wagon road, and for a moment, the world felt small and simple.

Then they approached the Ruddlan gate.

Towering over the trees that made up the forest at the edge of the river, the gate arched at the end of the stone bridge. It was embedded into the 30ft high walls encasing the city. Fortified from all nature and outsiders, Ruddlan's gates were open on its terms, and when they came through, the carriage paused as guards exchanged paperwork with Caspar, their driver at the front.

Their conversation was brief. James had a feeling it was shorter than usual when they saw the King's official seal.

Sent off with a polite welcome into the city of Ruddlan, they left the peace of the forest, its feathery leaves, and the open air to enter a bustling city road.

It had been weeks since James had seen anything so crowded. The trip from the Moonlight Kingdom was long. Trekking this far north had put them on the road for two months, and those months had been filled with meetings, inspections, and formalities at every stop. Now that they'd finally arrived, James couldn't help but feel like he'd turned a corner.

People. The roads were full of people. Some driving carriages. Some on horseback. Most were on foot. The traffic kicked up dust that caked everyone's shoes and swept up on the porches of every passing building.

It was too much to take in. Figures became blurs of color passing by. The life outside the window of the carriage felt distant, but the conversation inside it felt even more so.

He was surrounded by his friends. Hellen, Kirk, Fonzi, and Carter were talking, but James wasn't listening. Ingrid sat silent at his side, but he didn't turn to see her. Something felt empty about all of this - like he was living another man's life, or somehow, all of this was imagined.

He was miles upon miles away from home, and still couldn't escape the pressure of the palace walls. The past year felt like a dream - coming home to celebratory fanfare only to be received by an empty room and caught by a king who saw something in him he didn't want to be there. Anyone else in his position would feel like they were at their peak. Promotion into the king's council meant he could become a permanent fixture on the palace walls. By all means, he was set for life. As for all of the tangible luxuries that could be afforded to him, he wanted for nothing.

And yet, he'd never felt less like himself in his life. With each passing day, he drifted further and further.

The certain loyalty he once had for his kingdom turned to dust. And yet, there was nowhere he could run from it.

It was his life. It was his home. These were his people.

But what did that even mean?

Dark shadows covered the walls between the long windows that lined the hall. Red. They lined every floor with red. Carpet spilled at his feet around the corner as he stood beside a king who now called him a friend.

King Blackfield met James's eyes with a warmth that made James's stomach turn. In the shadow of a window pane, backed by the pale white light of the midday sun, Blackfield looked white as a sheet. Like a ghost. His hair was pale as his skin, and his skin bore the creases of time, yet something uncanny kept it taut around his face. Looking too old to be alive and too young to be right, his smile felt like it belonged to a young man. Not a king of his years.

"I trust you," the king said, his voice soft and fragile, as it always was. "You of all people have sacrificed everything for this kingdom's sake."

The king's bony hand reached out to James's shoulder. His hold seemed weaker than he last saw him.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know," Blackfield said, drawing closer.

And there was a pause that James didn't know how to fill.

"Tiberius," the king said. "What is it that you want?"

The question sunk in slowly. Dread pooled in James's gut as he felt the choice laid in front of him - overwhelming. It would be too late to turn back if he said yes to this. To join the council was a lifelong choice.

"I don't know," he said quietly, looking to the double doors to their right, knowing that there was a room full of councilors waiting inside.

With a small nod of his head, Blackfield pulled away and stepped towards the door, where a guard opened it for him. Blackfield paused, looking at James expectantly.

James stared at the king for a moment, steeling his resolve with a deep breath.

The king had told him the matter they needed to discuss involved James personally. James didn't know what that meant, or what it'd entail, but he knew if he didn't go, he'd spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he'd just said yes and entered the door. And for all of the uncertainty he was faced with, he hated not knowing.

So he stepped in.

Ever since, everything about his life changed. He saw the kingdom in shades of red. The sham of peace they'd built up felt like an insult, but it cut deeper still to know he'd been a part of it for his whole life.

Now that he knew, he couldn't keep living as normal. Things couldn't just stay as they were. With knowledge came responsibility, and the responsibility was eating him alive. He couldn't escape it, but no one was going to understand. No one would even believe--

Ingrid put a hand on his knee. It cut through the storm just enough to bring him back to the present. He looked down at it, staring at her slender fingers curl ever so slightly.

She leaned in. Her shoulder rested against his, and she turned with her mouth by his ear.

"You've been in your head all day," she said softly, barely audible.

Chatter still filled the carriage. The others were caught up in their conversation.

"Sorry," James said after a second, still looking at her hand until the carriage hit a dip in the road. The bump brought his gaze back up to the road.

"I was just looking at the city," he said quietly. "It's lively in a way I haven't seen in King's Peak."

Her head tilted against his.

"How so?" she asked.

James wanted to say: "The people seem... free."

But that was a projection of a desire, not a truth. And the last thing he wanted to hear from Ingrid was that he was being dramatic. Not right now. He just wanted peace, or what little he could get of it.

"I don't know," James finally said. "It's just different."

Ingrid slid down a bit in her seat so she was more comfortably matched to his height as she leaned against him. She hummed.

"I like different," she said.

But James knew that wasn't true.

Looking back out the window with his attention set again, he realized just how far they'd traveled through the city. Where they'd passed through a city gate, now they were about to pass through another, but this time, into the Barlowe Estates.

Guarded behind a steep metal fence, the estates were the wealthiest portion of Ruddlan. Leaving behind the dust of the city roads, they rolled onto clean, paved paths. The transition was jarring, with how much smoother the ride became. The conversation died down as everyone huddled along the carriage windows, looking out at the manors and mansions that lined the road.

Every yard was mowed. Every bush was trimmed. Colorful, healthy flowerbeds lined pathways, framed entrances, or perched along windows. Trees were placed with intent near the roads, spaced evenly like walls of their own, but they reached high enough to create shade from the summer sun. Where the streets were formerly bustling, now that the guards at the estate gate had closed them in, the streets were near-empty, populated only by a few groundskeepers, doing lawn work.

It was quiet. Slightly distanced from the sounds of the city, the Barlowe Estates were isolated; only for those deemed important enough to enter.

He didn't know how he felt about being in that category.

How did he get here? What did he do to deserve this? What did anyone benefit from pouring all of this money into spoiling those already in power--

"Come on," Ingrid said sharply, her voice pitched with excitement as she bumped his shoulder before sliding out of the carriage.

They'd stopped before a two-story manor designed for ambassadors, councillors, and distinguished lawmakers or military men from the Moonlight Kingdom to stay when they visited Ruddlan. As if it were an homage to the kingdom itself, the building looked like it'd been uprooted from King's Peak and placed here, as it bore the same style of steepled roofing, blue-grey paint along the walls, and a large red banner with the kingdom's crest hanging over the door.

A crescent moon, hugged by a ribbon and two ferns.

James watched as his friends poured out onto the road. Some went to grab their things before they were met by three busboys who'd come out of the manor to greet them, carrying their belongings for them. Greeted by another woman who seemed to be the caretaker of the house, James watched as they were all ushered down the path to the front door.

James stepped out a moment after, trailing behind. With the busboys gone, he grabbed his lone suitcase from the back carriage compartment, stopping in front of the carriage to stare at the manor, and the door shutting behind his friends who'd gone inside.

It was hot. The sun was beating down, and it felt warmer with the pavement below his feet.

Maybe it wasn't that beautiful of a summer day after all.

Heavy steps came up alongside him, and the driver stood an arm's length away as he shed his coat.

"Not in the south anymore," Caspar murmured, mustering a weak grin.

James glanced over at Caspar. Normally, the man wore many layers of clothing in the Moonlight Kingdom's cold. Even at this time of year, wearing a layer or two was bearable in the south. Out here, though, it was clear even Caspar was overheated. His sandy hair had begun to stick to his forehead with sweat.

"Yeah," James said faintly.

With his hands set on his sides, Caspar tilted his head and quietly considered him for a moment. "S'new place," he added, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. "You excited?"

James wished he could give Caspar an honest, lighthearted answer. He took in a deep breath.

"I don't know," seemed to be his default answer.

His response was met with quiet. Caspar's lightheartedness faded a little. He only nodded his understanding as he turned his attention back to the manor ahead of them. James sucked in his lower lip as he looked at the ground, feeling the weight he carried all the heavier.

"Well, I've got to get the animals out of this heat," Caspar started again softly, idly stepping back. "Maybe head in and cool down yourself, okay?"

James pulled his lips back into a thin, near-smile. He nodded.

"Yeah," he said, then turned to Caspar. "You should cool off, too."

Before Caspar could respond, the door at the front of the manor opened, and Ingrid's head popped out.

"Tiberius!" she called. "What's the hold-up?"

James flashed Caspar another grin. "Take care," he said.

The driver gave a small, two-fingered salute. "I'll be around," he answered quietly, already starting for the horses behind them.

With a final nod, James jogged up to the door, where Ingrid put an arm around his back and closed the door behind them.

Immediately, James was struck by how clean and well-kept the place was. It didn't even look lived in. The walls were covered in an ornate, blue, and white wallpaper, and the first room they entered was a large sitting room, with plush, dull-red couches angled around a glass-topped center table. Several plants lined the corners of the room along with a wall lined with bookshelves and some small sculptures. It felt like whoever made this manor was trying to mimic the palace, just scaled down. The high ceilings made room for several paintings on the wall, most of them of scenes in the Moonlight Kingdom: snowy mountains, open green plains, and cold, dark waters.

Ingrid had to tug him out of that room and into the hall for staring too long. He heard footsteps faintly upstairs, likely from his friends who'd already been shown around.

"Kitchen to the right," Ingrid said, gesturing to an open door. Inside, James saw a glimpse of an oven and a dishwashing sink.

"Dining room across the hall," she said, and James's eyes caught uncomfortably on the painting at the head of the long dining table.

It was a portrait of King Blackfield, smiling, with his daughter Eliza by his side.

It was a much younger portrait of him. Much younger. Blackfield's hair was still red, and Eliza was just a little girl. He didn't have time to take it all in as he followed Ingrid's hasty steps, but Blackfield's eyes seemed to follow him as he passed by the open door.

Ingrid pointed out a study with a pool table, and a sunroom with a piano, and then finally led them to the stairwell at the end of the hall.

"The Housekeeper said lunch will be ready in just a few minutes," Ingrid went on. "So we can all gather downstairs in the front sitting room where she'll serve us. There's a washroom upstairs and downstairs, too."

They turned a corner at the top of the stairs.

"This one's my room," Hellen said in the middle of the hallway, rushing into a room to the left. Her bright, curly red hair disappeared in a blur.

"Fine, then I'm taking this one," Kirk said, walking at a more relaxed pace into the room across from hers. He glanced back at James and Ingrid, giving a small nod to James.

"Aye, the Tiger finally made it up," Fonzi said, stretching out his hands as he leaned beside the nearest bedroom door. He looked down at the suitcase in James's hands. "Don't trust housekeeping to carry a bag?"

"No," James said, realizing that wasn't really what he meant to say. "I just -- it's my bag. I can--"

Fonzi laughed. "Gods, I'll look forward to seeing you loosen up on this trip, man," he said, coming over to pull James in around the shoulders a little roughly. Fortunately, Fonzi wasn't exceptionally strong - just tall and lanky - so the tug didn't pull him off balance.

"You think you can do that?" Ingrid teased, nudging his elbow. "'Loosen up?'"

"Oh, sure," Fonzi answered for him as James was ushered down the hall with a friend on either side. "Just, you know." Instead of explaining, he mimed himself taking a drink. "It'll fix everything."

James gave Fonzi a flat look as Fonzi's arm pulled away for acting purposes.

"Really?" James said.

"Come on," Fonzi said. "I heard the taverns here are top-notch. Especially the ones in the upper city. And you know they'll pull out the best stuff with the festival and the games coming up. They gotta bring in the gold."

"I'm looking forward to the music," Ingrid said. "I heard they're putting on some big productions in the ampitheater this next week. We should get tickets."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Fonzi said. "Gods, it's been ages since I've had a vacation like this."

"It's not a vaca--," James tried to say.

"Not a vacation," Fonzi mocked, imitating James's voice. "Might as well be. We're just here to be pretty ponies paraded around."

"You mean we are," Ingrid said with a huff. "You're not part of the King's Hand."

James stopped at the last door of the hall. He noticed the room was empty, and he turned, stopping in the doorway to look back at Ingrid and Fonzi. Carter had stepped out of the mirrored room across the hall. Between Ingrid and Fonzi, Carter always looked dramatically short and stocky.

"Wow," Fonzi said in mock offense.

"Honorable sixth finger," Carter posed.

"Ew," Ingrid said with a scoff.

But Fonzi was considering it seriously. He rubbed his scruffy chin in thought.

"A hand with six fingers," he murmured. "Sounds freaky."

"You don't need a title, Fonzi," Ingrid said with a roll of her eyes, walking down to the room beside James's. That must've been the one she'd taken.

"Lieutenant is just so boring, though," Fonzi said, putting his hands on his hips. "There's no spice. Not as exciting as being a finger."

"Please stop calling it that, ugh," Ingrid said, tossing her jacket into her room before she began to march down the hall. "I'm going to go down for food."

Hellen popped out of her room and Kirk did as well at the mention of food. Both murmured something similar about starving and quickly hurried down the steps with Ingrid. Fonzi hung back and looked on with Carter, grinning in success for having annoyed Ingrid for the millionth time. For him, apparently, it never got old.

"See ya down there, Haddy," Fonzi said to Carter, calling Carter the abbreviated version of his last name, Haddon.

No one really liked Fonzi's nicknames, but James thought Haddy was better than "Tiger." It at least didn't have potential unwanted connotations, since it wasn't a real word.

Assuming Carter was following, James turned to enter his room, setting his suitcase at the base of his bed.

This room was at least a little more simple.

At the front of the room to his left, there was an oak dresser. To his right, there was a simple writing desk, an oil lamp, and a padded wooden chair. The bed took up a larger portion of the back center of the room since it was sized for at least two people. In the corner, there was a small closet.

A window above the bed was the only wall decor in there, and James felt a small sigh of relief at having no paintings to look at. Just some simple wallpaper and the house beside theirs through the glass.

In the back of his head, he did the math.

Six doors down the hall. Six bedrooms. Six visitors. Five made the King's Hand, and Fonzi was along for the ride.

He let out a sigh.

Weeks of this, and he was already tired. He didn't think he could keep doing this. All of the placid greetings, the fake interest, the polite but distant conversations. It was exhausting, being your best self all of the time - and as the King's Hand, they'd have to be, if they were to be the king's proxy. Representing the king was no light matter.

He stood up straighter when he saw Carter fill the space in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he stood at attention.

An old habit. Maybe one he needed to lose, now that he and Carter were equals, and Carter wasn't his superior.

And he wanted to believe they were still friends.

"Tiberius," Carter said with a tilt of his head. "Are you coming?"

James didn't understand why everyone was in such a hurry.

"Yeah," he said, his voice feeling flat. He knew he hadn't been 'himself,' and that Carter was going to pry, even though James didn't want to say more.

Without saying a word, Carter just raised his brows ever-so-slightly, giving James an expectant, searching look that James knew well.

Fine. He'd give him an inch.

"I haven't been this far from home since the war," he said emptily.

And in a moment, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. Carter's lingering grin dropped to something sobered, and he too, stood up straighter, taking in a deep breath. There was a short delay.

"It'll help you to get some food in your stomach," Carter said, softer.

Not waiting for James to move, Carter walked up, gently grabbing James's hand to lead him out.

"I know we're here for work," he said. "But we're going to have fun, too. It'll help get your mind off things. You should let yourself have it."

James didn't offer a reply, but he followed Carter's lead, pulling his hand lightly out of Carter's as Carter walked ahead of him and James followed behind. For a split second, James found himself glancing over his shoulder at the room he left behind, but his gaze quickly shot forward again.

He guessed he'd have to pretend.

Dear Eve,

Another spring's come and gone here in Ruddlan. The already-warm weather is heating up, and soon all of us will be scorching in the heat, wondering why we chose to live in a desert. The semester just ended earlier this week, which brings me another step closer to that doctorate. I don't plan on sitting still all summer long, of course. The libraries are still open, which means I can still study-- research waits for no one. I won't get bored. You might not expect the Desert Sands to have that much academic literature, but surprisingly, I could still spend my whole life reading it all. Which means these next few months won't go to waste.

A fluttering of wings came from the window, and Shane glanced up, setting down his quill pen. On the other side of the glass, a goldfinch was making its landing on a perch, swooping for the basket of birdseed hanging beside it. Shane smiled softly as he watched the small bird attack the grain. When establishing their second home here, his father had barely waited for their family to be moved in before installing the bird feeder in the window for the room that was to be Shane's. It gave him two things to watch from his desk, where he spent much of his time. One, the birds that inevitably and regularly stopped by for a meal. Two, he could see over the wall surrounding the Barlowe Estates and into the rest of Ruddlan.

It was strange entertainment to watch the people passing by, far away and below. He had to wonder what each of their lives were, where they were going, what was on their minds. He could see hundreds of people moving by in a single day, but none of them never looked up. It felt like being among them, but invisibly. Community in loneliness. Connection without rejection.

Shane tore his eyes away from the bright yellow of the bird before looking back to the letter, picking up his pen again.

There's other things to be looking forward to, though. My parents will be arriving here tomorrow, on their way back from a trip to the Moonlight Kingdom. Last I heard, they're both happy and healthy. My mom's rather tired from all her meetings and diplomatic summits, but she remains hopeful and optimistic about everything. And my dad-- well, you know him. He's as warm and jovial as ever. They're well, but I know they miss you just as much as I do.

Not only are they back in town, but so are the Griffin Games. Whose bright idea was it to chain up two magnificent creatures and have them fight in front of a crowd of screaming people? I don't see the appeal, but if they weren't so popular this city would still be a two-horse settlement, so I suppose I can't complain. The bright side is they'll bring a lot of people here for the summer, and the streets will be full. It'll be fascinating to see how the city changes for the season. You wouldn't believe the view I have from the Cypress. I wish you could see it.

Shane looked back up at the window again. The goldfinch had flown away while he hadn't been looking, apparently satisfied with its meal. He couldn't felt but feel a twinge of disappointment as he faced the paper again.

Most of them will flock to our landmarks whenever there isn't a game, especially the city park. I think you'd like it-- it's nothing like our school's courtyard. There are fountains, and a pond where ducks come to raise their young, and clusters of flower gardens scattered around the lawns. One of them even has a patch of dandelions, and it's refreshing to see them not treated as weeds for once. Do you have any of those, wherever you are? I hope you do. The things you find beautiful should never be a memory to you.

I hope this last winter was kind to you. Over here, it was just quiet and sad, and I realized I'd pick a freezing winter afternoon shivering with you in front of a fireplace over a mild, dull Bruma every single time. Everything seems to lead back to you, in the end. Just the other day, I saw a girl making portraits in the square, and my first thought was that she could be you. She didn't look anything like you, but I still see you everywhere. Maybe that's how I can always find something to write to you about, even though you'll never read this, or any of the other letters. I don't know how to stop looking. I'm not sure if I can.

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing-- I hope that you, at least, can find what you're looking for. If I can't, you should be able to. You deserve all that and much more.

I just wish I could be a part of it.

All my love,

Shane

Shane took a deep breath, dropping his pen to the desk. There. Another one for the drawer that was steadily growing fuller and fuller and threatening to spill into the rest of his life. He prayed that it never overflowed. He needed that layer of separation between his past and present in order to stay afloat.

Carefully, Shane blew on the letter to ensure the ink was dry-- even though the words he'd shaped out of that very ink would never be read-- and folded the paper down the middle, pressing it flat on the desk. He pulled the bottom drawer of his desk open and dropped it in, willing himself not to count how many letters were already down there. Then he closed it up, the wood hitting wood with a thunk.

The moment he leaned back in his chair, something pounced into his lap. Shrimp, demanding pets with a loud mrow. Shane smiled, stroking behind the cat's ears as he cuddled him up to his chest.

"There you are," he said. "You've been awfully quiet today. I was starting to get suspicious."

Shrimp purred, getting snug in his arms.

Shane smooched his head. "Oh, I believe you. You could do no wrong."

He heard the soft whinnying of a horse and went quiet, trying to listen to it. It sounded like it was coming from the street outside, although it was odd for anyone to be leaving or arriving at midday. Curious, he lifted Shrimp against his shoulder like an infant and left his room, moving to the window at the top of the staircase that offered a street view over the house's entrance.

At the edge of the road, a green carriage was pulled over, with the chauffeur already out of his seat and checking on the horses. Shane squinted at the crest over the door-- it was distinctly the Letteran emblem, with the cornucopia and mountain symbols. A spark of hope fluttered in his chest, and he moved his face closer to the glass, his heart racing with sudden excitement.

He felt his face splitting into a grin when the door to the carriage opened and his father stepped out. His father immediately turned back to the compartment with a warm, bright smile, holding out his hand with his palm flipped up for his mother to take as she stepped out too. Shane couldn't hear her laugh, but he definitely saw it when his father quickly pressed a playful kiss to the back of her hand and spun her around on the sidewalk.

Shane couldn't wait another moment. He tore down the stairs, set Shrimp down to throw on his shoes, and then swung the door open so he could race out the entrance.

"You're back!" he shouted, running to them with his arms open.

His parents both turned to him with wide grins, and Shane ran straight into his father's arms. He tugged him tightly as his mother quickly joined them in a group hug.

"There's my boy," his father said gleefully as he ruffled Shane's hair playfully. Shane laughed as his mother pecked a kiss on his cheek.

"You said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow!" Shane exclaimed, moving his arm so he could hug his mother back.

"We were making good time on the trip, so we sent a letter ahead of us informing you that we would be a day or two early," his father said, reaching into a pocket of his jacket. "But we actually made such great time that we intercepted the messenger at the city gate." He held up a letter. "Here it is."

Shane barked a laugh. "I haven't even gotten the place ready for you both. There was going to be a welcome dinner and everything."

"We'll make it with you," his mother said warmly, squeezing him more tightly for a moment before letting go of him. "We've got plenty of time to spend with you and just enjoy the summer."

An eager meow rose up from the house, and they all turned to see Shrimp zooming out the open door to pounce on Shane's mother. She caught the cat with a gentle grin, holding him up to her face so she could smooch his head.

"Hello, sweetie," she said adoringly. "Has he been a good kitty, Shane?"

"The best," Shane confirmed.

"Hey, give me a turn with him," his father protested jokingly, reaching over to scratch underneath Shrimp's chin. He had a hard time, though, because Shrimp kept moving his head to try and nuzzle his hand instead.

Shane's mother smiled, passing the cat over to his father. "We got you something," she told Shane as she reached into the carriage again. Intrigued, Shane watched as she held up a blue hardcover volume, with a seal in the shape of a sea serpent on the front. The gold text above it read Death from the Depths: A Complete Guide to the History of Sea Monsters.

"Oh, wow," Shane exclaimed, excitedly opening it up and flipping through the pages. It looked to be filled with a mix of historical research and sailor testimonials, with elaborate illustrations of various sea creatures breaking up the text. The book was in mint condition, even smelling new. He had to resist the urge to shove his face in the pages and inhale deeply.

Shane looked up with a beaming smile to his mother.

"Thank you so much. This is wonderful," he said eagerly.

"She was worried you might forget what the sea was," his father teased, patting Shane's shoulder affectionately with his free hand as Shrimp purred loudly on his shoulder. "You're so landlocked out here."

"On the plus side, we don't have to worry about any of these," Shane said, tapping the sea serpent on the cover. "They can't fit in our fountains."

"We'll have to travel to the Sheila Sea as a family sometime again," his mother said thoughtfully. "Maybe next summer. It'll be nice and mild. Can't promise the presence-- or lack-- of sea serpents, though."

Shane smiled. "It'd be nice to make it back home sometime."

He heard the clatter of hooves over stone, and all of them turned their heads to see what was drawing near. Another carriage was pulling up, this one larger and in black and gray. Shane's gaze landed on the Moonlight Kingdom's crest over the door. So, someone was coming to stay at the kingdom's diplomatic mansion for the summer, much like his parents were returning to the Cypress. But who was it?

The carriage passed by, and he could see it was full, with maybe a half dozen people in their twenties inside. The three of them smiled and nodded politely as it went by, and his father even waved. Even after it moved on, Shane kept his curious gaze on it.

"That's the King's Hand," his mother said suddenly. "They made the trip north before us on a different route."

Shane turned to her in surprise. "They're here?"

"They've been on a tour," his mother explained. "King Blackfield wants to show off the future of his military to the world, have them form connections. Ruddlan is their stop for the summer."

Shane's father scratched his head thoughtfully. "Maybe we should invite them over for a meal this week. Be neighborly while making positive connections."

Shane shuffled his feet. Having new visitors? He wouldn't think twice if they were more like his parents' age, but they were young enough to be his peers. And that meant he had to figure out how to fit in.

"That would be pleasant," his mother agreed, placing a comforting hand on Shane's shoulder. "It would be casual. We wouldn't be determining the future military policy of our nations over the dinner table."

Shane chuckled faintly. "I would hope not."

"We wouldn't do that to you." His mother took a moment to examine him, gently and proudly smiling up at him, before brushing some hair out of his face and drawing him in for another hug. "We've missed you so much, sweetheart."

"I missed you too," Shane whispered, hugging her tight.

"Hey, let me in, I've missed him just as much," his father exclaimed, rushing in. With a laugh, Shane let himself be hugged by him as well, leaning into the embrace. He felt Shrimp nuzzling his cheek as he did, and he smiled a bit wider.

They spent a comfortable amount of time hugging, and Shane felt some of his worries lift. Things were always better when his parents were around. The Cypress didn't feel so lonely and empty, for one thing. It always felt bleak to wander its rooms and know he was the only one in this huge manor. But it was a strange comfort to be there and hear the creaks of footsteps that weren't his moving around. He held them closer for a moment before they all pulled back, still smiling at each other.

"So, this welcome dinner?" his mother asked curiously.

Shane laughed, grabbing them each by the hand and eagerly leading them inside. "Just wait until you see what's in the pantry."