Heron was quiet for a moment, stacking the wood carefully. "Can I ask you something else?" He asked without looking directly at Haran.
"Of course."
"My birth mother." Heron kept his eyes on the wood in his hands. "No one could tell me anything about her except that she is dead." He trailed off.
Haran stopped mid-swing, the axe hovering. He lowered it slowly.
"Her name was Loretta," he said quietly.
Heron looked up to him, expecting Haran to go on.
"She was a medic. But also a researcher, like me." Haran said while leaning on the axe. "She wanted to understand how crystals worked, how they could be used to help people. She believed in their potential."
"What was she like?"
"She was smart and determined." A faint smile crossed Haran's face as he recalled his late wife. "She was always very patient. And she laughed easily." He paused. "And then she gave birth to you."
Heron didn't really know how to react to the last part. Then, after a moment of silence, he asked, "How did she die?"
"We were working on an important experiment," Haran said with a flat voice. "Something went wrong. I don't remember what happened." He stopped, his jaw tightening. "When I woke up, she was gone. Burned by one of the crystals we were testing."
"I'm sorry."
"So am I." Haran picked up the axe again. "Every day."
They worked in silence after that. The conversation weighed heavily on their mind for different reasons. When the last log was split and the wood stacked, they gathered armfuls and headed back toward the house.
Before they entered the house, Heron stopped. "Thank you. For telling me about her."
"You deserved to know," Haran said. "I wished I could have told you sooner."
"I also wish that were the case," Heron shifted the wood in his arms. "But at least I now know more."
They went inside, where Martina had laid out bowls, and the stew was ready. Agnus looked up from his chair, his expression brightening.
"About time," he said. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten the way back."
"Just making sure we had enough wood for a few days," Heron replied, moving to stack it by the hearth.
"Good, good." Agnus gestured to the table. "Now sit. Both of you. Martina's been threatening me with that ladle if I don't get you to stay for a meal."
"I have made no such threats," Martina said, but there was warmth in her voice as she filled the bowls.
They ate together as the light outside dimmed. The atmosphere became much more pleasant as relations between Haran and everyone started to normalize.
As Haran walked down the alley, Heron watched from the window.
"He's a good man," Agnus said from his chair.
"Yes," Heron said quietly. "I think he is."
* * *
The spring was in full bloom in the 2046th star-cycle. The fields around Haugstad were being prepared for planting as Nadia's season was just two weeks away from starting, and the village had settled into the rhythm of the new season.
Haran's visits had become predictable enough that people no longer stopped what they were doing to watch him pass. Some even nodded greetings. Some were still very strict, but others began to relax. Haran spoke about this issue to Malcolm, who has been influencing public opinion to relax the strained views towards Martina and Agnus.
Today, he found Heron at the training ground near the village edge, a cleared space where the younger warriors practiced. The boy was working through sword forms with Henrik, his movements still awkward but showing improvement.
"Keep your guard up," Henrik called, circling. "A monster won't wait for you to recover your stance."
Heron adjusted, but Henrik's practice blade still found an opening, tapping his ribs lightly.
"Dead," Henrik said flatly.
Heron grimaced and reset his position.
Haran watched from the edge of the clearing, not wanting to interrupt. The boy's focus was evident in every movement. However, he was still very clumsy. When Henrik called for a break, Heron spotted Haran and approached, breathing hard.
"How long have you been standing there?" the boy asked, wiping sweat from his face.
"Long enough to see Henrik kill you three times," Haran replied with a slight smile.
"Four," Henrik corrected, walking over. "But in two or three cycles, he may be ready to take on real patrols."
Heron's expression brightened at that, though he tried to hide it.
"That's good progress," Haran said. "Henrik, do you know where Malcolm is. I need to have a word with him about something."
"Malcolm should be at the administrative barracks," Henrik said, wiping his own blade clean. "Saw him heading that way after the morning council."
"Thank you." Haran nodded to both of them, then turned to Heron. "Keep working on your guard. Henrik's right. In a real fight, there won't be second chances."
"I know," Heron said, still catching his breath. "Will you be around later? Papa wanted to ask you about reinforcing the storehouse before the rains."
"I'll stop by before I leave," Haran replied before leaving for the village center.
Haran found Malcolm in his office, reviewing what looked like supply ledgers. The village chief looked up as Haran entered.
"Haran. Back already? Thought your patrol circuit took at least three weeks."
"It does. But I found something." Haran closed the door behind him and reached into his coat, pulling out a leather pouch. He set it carefully on the desk between them.
Malcolm eyed the pouch warily. "What is it?"
"A blue soul crystal. Found it two days north of here, near the old trade route."
"And you brought it here?" Malcolm's voice yelled instantly.
"Let me explain." Haran held up a hand. "I was investigating reports of unusual activity in the area. Found a body. It was, I think, a man, dead maybe a week. He was wearing strange clothing, a leather jacket. The body was in really rough shape. Already devoured by animals or monsters." Haran paused. "Also, it seemed like his face was melted off. What a disturbing death that must have been."
Haran gestured to the pouch. "He had this on him, wrapped carefully. There was also money; he was rich enough not to be just anybody, probably a merchant."
"And you took his stuff." Malcolm was still staring at the pouch as if it might bite him.
"I took it because I thought the village could use both the money and the crystal. If I take it to church, I won't get anything. But if you report it, you will receive a substantial reward. Then use the money in Jamtara for supplies, tools, whatever you need." Haran leaned forward. "I know how you feel about crystals, Malcolm. I am not asking you to use its power, but to trade it in."
"Is the price enough to feed the village through a bad harvest?" Malcolm asked quietly.
"You can buy enough supplies for harvest and winter preparation; the village might survive even for two seasons."
Malcolm sighed. "I have to consult the village council about this. They really are not going to be happy about this."