Untitled: Chapter 1 - The Message and the Mission (Part 2)

Casiv Dallon coughed without searching for his handkerchief or even attempting to cover his mouth as he stuffed himself with roast chicken. “Do you hear that cough? My time is coming.”

Ry watched a drop of grease roll down his uncle’s chin with a mixture of repulsion, pity, and affection. “Uncle, you’re aware that I would visit you if you just asked? You could even, if you were feeling up to it, come to Conyan Keep for a little while.

Casiv studied Ry carefully. “Are you accusing me of calling you here under the pretext of my declining health because I’m lonely?”

Ry linked his hands together under the table and smiled charmingly. “If this was the first time, Uncle…”

“Rylasir Dallon!” he cried, outraged. “How dare you think I need to stoop to such petty tricks!” he blustered, growing red as he was apt to do.

Ry did his best to look repentant and ventured softly, “Would you like to accompany me back to Conyan Keep? I’m sure it gets a bit gloomy in this cursed wood.”

Casiv didn't allow himself to look elated at the idea, but he did move forward ever so slightly. “You should grow accustomed to the Black Forest and its keep. It will be your home before long.”

“But hopefully not too long,” Ry replied sincerely.

The older gentleman roared with laughter. “I’m sure you’re praying for my death, so you can take over.”

Ry winced at the idea but didn’t try to argue. “Please come with me to Conyan Keep.”

Casiv popped an orange slice into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he studied his nephew. There was no doubt that he was going to say yes, but his heir needn’t know that. He waved a hand about vaguely. "You know, I have so much to do."

Ry linked his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. "If you don't want to come then-"

"Fine!" Casiv blustered, "If you're going to twist my arm about it, I'll go if only to please you."

Giving his uncle a broad smile, he nodded. “Thank you. We’ll be leaving tomorrow. I came up in a carriage this time just for this purpose.”

"You mean you came up in that pokey thing when I was dying?"

Ry stifled a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're fine now, Uncle."

He waved the idea away. "A miracle recovery. I had a doctor confirm this time."

"You're blessed with so many miracles," he muttered with an eye roll. He truly liked his uncle, but he was growing tired of these calls. The first three times he had driven his horse hard, not even stopping to change out on the journey that normally would take most of one day. He had started out early morning, right after he had gotten the message and reached Blackthorn Keep three hours earlier than normal. He had never seen the poor beasts that had carried him again. He didn't want to know what had happened to them.

"The secret is to not have any children," he pontificated, waving a fork that looked much too small in his massive fingers. "That is far too many miracles to have any to spare for your old age." He nodded to himself and smiled at Ry. "Just choose which of Grey’s scoundrels you want as your heir and stay a bachelor forever. Life is much-" He broke off at a tap on the door. "Enter!" he bellowed, precariously jostling the tray of food on his lap as he tried to straighten in his bed.

Ry thought it looked like he slipped down farther, but he didn't offer any assistance. That would merely result in being bellowed at too and perhaps have globs of half chewed food sliding down his face.

The stoic butler, the only man Ry knew who could stand Casiv's shenanigans for any period of time, walked in slowly. "A message for Sir Dallon."

Ry glanced at his uncle as he stood, unsure of what this meant. He rarely got messages away from Conyan keep, his home. He took the rolled up missive, recognizing Grey's seal. He groaned inwardly, knowing what this meant. It had been months, but he was needed. He knew he was needed. He opened it, more for the tradition of opening letters than for the actual informational purposes. Knowing that the letter had been written at least four hours ago, Ry had one hour, under the best circumstances, to get to a place three hours away. It seemed the Bordans were smartening up, attacking the farthest reaches of Conyan's territory, making Grey's knights work to get there. However, it made it easier for him to get there and maybe...

"Uncle, may I borrow a fourth of your forces?" He looked up at the unashamedly curious Casiv. "The damned Bordans are attacking Grey again, and he needs my help." Unlike Conyan, which was surrounded only by plains, Blackthorn was protected by the forest that surrounded it. Thick and hard to travel through except by the main road, none of the Lords of Blackthorn had ever lost their keep through force, and none had managed to have families. The villagers surrounding Blackthorn called it the curse. Casiv called it a blessing. The lord before him called it bad luck that shouldn't be believed in.

Neither of them attempted to marry at all.

Ry was aware of this 'curse' but didn't mind all that much. It would be kind of nice not be tied down to a woman for most of his life.

"Of course," Casiv said, tugging at the bell pull hanging to the side of his bed. "Take more than that if you wish."

"I can't have your defenses too weak, Uncle."

He scoffed. "You have so much to learn about the forest." Wind brushed the branches against the window, creating a strange clicking language. Ry couldn't help but think they were answering to a summons. "I'm safe here," he murmured reassuringly, "I'll go to Conyan in your carriage the first light of tomorrow. The fighting should be over then." When Ry only stood there, Casiv waved his hand, returning to the brash man he was known to be. "Go! Take a third or don't take any!"

Ry hurried from the room as the butler came in again, and soon he was galloping down the main road with four hundred thundering behind him.