Two weeks before Corvis' and Tessia's tenth birthday.
Corvis Eralith
The water flowed lazily in front of us, the stream a gentle, gurgling creek that meandered south toward the Winetail River.
Its surface was a mirror of the sky, reflecting the pale blue of the afternoon and the scattered clouds that drifted like slow thoughts across the heavens.
I was in the northern part of the Mistmarch of Zestier, sat on a weathered log with a fishing rod in hand, waiting for the stream's fishes to be caught.
The wood was worn smooth by years of use, and I could feel the faint pulse of the earth through its grain.
It was a warm day, the kind that made the Elshire Forest feel like a dream, and we were in the season when the Carnevrenns—the Dicathian salmon's name in ancient elven—swam the brooks of the Elshire Forest to lay their eggs.
Dad was by my right, his own fishing rod held loosely in his hands, his posture relaxed in a way I rarely saw. It was one of the rare few times when I could truly pass time with him that wasn't at dinner, a stolen moment in the chaos of his royal duties.
"Dad... why do you enjoy fishing so much?" I asked, looking at the still hook of my fishing rod.
We had to be patient; Carnevrenns had very specific time cycles in their heads. They swam only at certain hours, their movements dictated by ancient rhythms that I could only guess at. Dad, as was his usual, remained silent for a while, considering the question, turning it over in his mind like a smooth stone.
"I guess it is because of how quiet it is," he answered, his eyes on the water, his voice slow and measured. "Sitting by the side of a stream, waiting for a fish to be caught. There is no pressure, no expectations. Just you and the water."
I nodded, the weight of his words settling into my chest. "And what about this spot? We always fish here."
Whenever Dad had time and he decided to bring me to fish, we fished by this brook. I guessed part of the reason was so that the King wouldn't distract the work of normal fisherelves by his presence.
"This is one of the best spots to fish around Zestier, and it has been for decades," Dad said. "It is a Sornèvaine secret. Your Grandmother shared it with me."
So this is where nomad elves go to fish? I wondered.
Fishing was one of those activities nomads could always rely on—the Elshire Forest was brimming with brooks, creeks, rivers, some smaller, some bigger, and even lakes. It was a reliable source of food.
"And what about the Carnevrenns?" I continued, using Manasonar to feel if there were any of those fishes nearby, but no feedback came back. The silence of the brook was absolute, a held breath.
"They have the most tasty meat in the world," Dad said, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his voice.
He seemed like me when I talked of apples. I flushed at the thought.
"What is the matter?" Dad asked, his professional and stoic tone back in place, though I caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"N-nothing," I stuttered, changing the subject immediately. "I better catch a Carnevrenn soon, then, so Berna can taste one."
My Guardian Bear was lying on a makeshift bed of leaves, curled in a ball sleeping position. Her massive form rose and fell with each slow breath, her green eyes occasionally cracking open to watch us. Dad made a faint smirk.
We remained in silence just like that, waiting for some of the Elshire salmons to take the bait. But nothing happened. The brook was still, the water clear and empty.
"Does it always take so long?" I asked, the silence beginning to feel heavy.
"What? I thought you got used to fishing times," Dad joked lightly, a rare warmth in his voice. "But yes, Carnevrenns are this hard to catch."
"Lucky us," I sighed, the sound lost in the rustle of leaves.
"We will just have more time to talk," Dad said. It was quite ironic—between him and me, I didn't know who was the one who spoke less.
"I guess so..." I replied, looking away from the brook. The forest stretched out around us, a sea of green and gold, and I felt the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
What could we speak about? I didn't have many topics to talk about with others, either. Ashton and Albold? We spoke during our Unravelings, but nothing I could share with Dad—I did them as Finn Warend, and Grandpa was still covering my identity from my parents. With Alwyn—my thoughts were stopped as Dad said:
"Corvis," he started, his eyes still fixed on the brook. "What do you want to do with your life?"
"W-what?" I asked back, completely taken aback. Fulfilling my role as Justiciar... that was the only answer I could think about.
"I mean, you do not want the throne," Dad continued, turning his teal eyes on me. "And you never showed yourself interested in other affairs of the court."
Yes, knowing the future makes it difficult for me to think about them, I said in my head. The knowledge of what was coming, the war and the death and the endless struggle—it consumed everything.
"I do not like that kind of life," I replied, hoping that a Carnevrenn would catch the bait, but the brook remained as still as before. "But I do not know what kind of life I would like, either."
I wasn't like Arthur. I didn't know if a peaceful life in a remote cabin would satisfy me, not entirely, at least. Yes, Peace was my utter and final goal as the Justiciar, but what kind of Peace? The question echoed in my mind, unanswered.
"That is good, Corvis," Dad said, his voice soft. "I did not know I wanted to become King until your grandmother died, either."
"Really?" I asked back.
Dad always seemed to have been born for the throne, a compassionate and mindful leader—always ready to listen to his subjects and make his decision with all of them in mind.
Perhaps he wasn't the best king for a time of war—that one was Grandpa, the novel proved as much—but he was the kind of king I would have wanted to become if I had been forced to take the throne.
You speak as if you will never be a leader, Corvis, I heard myself say in my head. Throneholder... Lord of the Asclepius Clan as Soleil continues to insist—you cannot continue to flee from those responsibilities.
"Yes, really," Dad replied, silencing the inner Corvis. "When I thought your grandfather would rule for many more decades to come, long after the ending of the Second War, I wanted to be a fisherelf."
"What? Amongst all things?" I asked, having a hard time imagining Dad as a fisherman. "What about Mom? What did she think about it?"
"Merial and I, we were wondering where to go to live," Dad said, a distant look in his eyes. "The Arnocue seemed a good choice to us."
The Arnocue was Zestier's western Grove, connected to the Queen's Grove by Lania Door, the western gate of the Alabaster Ring. It was named after the ancient elven word for the Winetail River.
"That is a good place," I said, imagining my parents living a quiet life by the water. "But for the Prince to live there, it would have been unheard of."
"Like you in the Vedette with your Company?" Dad teased back, something I had never heard him do. The warmth in his voice was unexpected, and I felt a smile tug at my lips.
I didn't respond as silence fell back on us. Then, movement crept across the brook's surface as my bait sank beneath the water.
"I got it!" I exclaimed, yanking backward on the fishing rod.
A beautiful Carnevrenn emerged from the brook, its red scales catching the light like scattered rubies, before it fell right in front of me.
"Well done, Corvis," Dad complimented me, ruffling my hair and making me smile. Berna, noticing the movement, raised her head to gaze at the savory fish with hungry, gluttonous eyes.
"Here, girl," I said, tossing the Carnevrenn toward Berna. She opened her large jaws and swallowed it whole, growling in appreciation.
The sound was low and rumbling, a purr of contentment that seemed to resonate through the forest.
A/N:
I am thinking about making an Auxiliary Volume containing information such as descriptions of Zestier and other cities, Corvis's current power set as of the latest chapter, and other supplementary details.