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avizare · 2 days ago

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Moonberry Juice

‘I wish I could say that we will see each other again, but I don’t know if we will.'

Callum chewed on the inside of his cheek, his brows knitting in frustration.

‘I hope so. Maybe then, we can share some of Barius’ best cake. Maybe then, I can give you that kiss.’

He lowered his charcoal to trace the lines of her facial tattoos. He started to draw the first curve with as much care as he could muster, but the outline came up too dark for his liking. Still, he continued, tracing the first marking back up to meet those eyes that haunted his dreams.

‘I will think of you under every full moon. Please don’t let this hurt too much.’

He began tracing the second tattoo, but paused when the line came away shaky and smeared.

Imperfect again .

‘But, if it does - if you feel that soft aching - know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing.’

Specks of charcoal littered the page as the tip of his utensil broke away, piercing the parchment.

‘It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always.’

The room buzzing with static energy, Callum jerked up from his seat, sending the chair clattering to the ground as he twisted and sent the charcoal across Viren’s - his - office, where it thudded against a bookshelf and rested on a row of encyclopaedias on Xadian fauna.

‘I love you.’

Callum clenched his fists at his side, trying to steady his breathing.

‘I love you so much.’

But he could only shudder as he raised his shaky hand and rubbed the wetness into his eyes before it had the chance to form into tears again.

He reached over his desk and fastened his sketchbook shut, sealing her away for another time.

He was done crying.

Surely, after three weeks, he was done crying.

He just needed a moment to compose himself.

“Hey, Callum?!” a voice echoed up the tower.

Eyes closed, Callum lulled his head back, silently begging the spirits of his ancestors or Lady Justice or some other unknown variable to just give him this. Just this one moment. Just one minute of peace to-

"Callum?!" He rubbed hard at his eyes before facing the door. “Caaaalllumm?! Cal?!” He could hear the ‘thomp, thomp, thomp’ of heavy sabatons bolting up the stairs. This was all that he needed. “Magic-man, are you up here?!” Callum sighed.

“Ventum magneticus” Callum whispers, tracing a small rune in the air and then striking his finger through it as he did so. The door flew wide open, revealing a dumbfounded Soren on the other side, hand extended towards where the doorknob had been.

“Uh, I- hey, Callum!” Soren smiled warily, raising his hands as if surrendering to the young mage's gaze.

“What is it, Soren?” Callum watched the man, deadpan, as he tried to collect himself.

“I- well, Ezran- King Ezran sent me to find you. He says that they're having an impromptu council meeting. Um, right now. In the, uh, council… room. But I suppose he can wait a minute or two while you take care of that.”

Callum closed his eyes, as if the words had physically pained him. In truth, the pain was only phycological.

“Take care of what, Soren?”

“The, uh…” he pointed over the boy's shoulder. “That.” Callum turned away from him.

“Take care of wh- oh! Spirits above- NO NO NO!”

Somehow, a burning piece of charcoal had found its way onto one of his bookshelves and had taken to eradicating a hundred years worth of knowledge on Xadian crustaceans. Callum raised his hand, hastily drawing a rune. “Vacuum spatium!” he cried, pointing at the flames. Instantly, the fire died out.

The young mage hurried to his precious collection, inspecting the damage. Thankfully, only a few books seemed to have been burnt, though the shelf itself was also marred by a blackened splotch.

"Practising a new spell, were we?" Soren asked as he stepped into the room. "I thought you needed the fire arcae- arcaenin-"

"The sun arcanum-"

"Right. That. Don't you need that to do…" he put his hands together in front of his chest, then pushed them out, firing off an imaginary fireball, "the flameo magic?"

"Sun magic and fire magic are not the same thing. Yes, most fire spells require a connection to the sun arcanum…" Callum started as he pulled the book off the shelf and begun flicking through its pages, inspecting it for damage, "but I've read of a number of sky spells that appear to superheat the air to create flame."

"I… see…" Soren said, rubbing his chin as he considered what the boy was saying. "And so… when you froze those arrows in the air with your 'aspiris friggin' in the training yard yesterday, that was… the opposite of that?"

Callum slid the book back into place and turned towards the crownguard, a smile playing on his lips.

"Pretty much. 'Aspiro frigga' is a modification of the 'aspiro' spell that supercools the air I breath out, freezing the moisture in the air and… well," he spread his hands out over his head, as if drawing a rainbow, "ice magic."

"I connected the dots," Soren crossed his arms, his face awash with pride.

"You connected 'em," Callum nodded. "I'm going to be putting a similar theory into practice tomorrow." Callum made his way across the room and pulled a book off a shelf. The cover was new, but the pages within stuck out at odd angles, as if some had been ripped out and then stuffed back inside. "Until we get more sky spell tomes, I'm stuck practising what I've memorised from the book Zubeia sent me and trying to… sort of discover new spells along the way."

"Are the guard getting another magic show in the yard?"

Soren bent down and picked the discarded chair up from off the floor, pushing it back under his father's- under Callum's desk. The mage was too busy flicking through his spellbook - one of many - to notice.

"As long as I'm not interrupting your training too much," Callum said, pulling a loose page from the book and presenting it to Soren. "I can't stand using the castle chambers. Deep, dark and dank may work for dark mages, but I need fresh air to study my craft."

Soren nodded thoughtfully, studying the carefully drawn rune on the page as if he had any idea of what he was looking at.

"I… have no idea what I'm looking at," Soren said, flipping the page in his hand.

"Hopefully you are looking at the rune for 'aspiro ignis'. I- I mean, in theory you are. I don't know for sure until I try it tomorrow." He took back the page and replaced it in the book, snapping it shut and slotting it into his satchel. "Another reason to do it in the practice yard: I probably shouldn't practise spells like this alone, what with the risk of… setting myself on fire."

"Bring water; got it. Now, uh, Callum?" The young mage had already turned away to pull at another book.

"Hm?"

"The king."

"What? Oh! Right, right!" The mage hurried to the window and opened it wide. "Manus. Puma-"

"I was told to escort you myself!" Soren hurried to add. "On foot ." Callum froze, one leg dangling out the window.

"Escort me yourself…?" Callum looked out at the horizon, expecting to see the sun where he had left it, only to crane his neck up to confirm that it was, in fact, midday. "Huh. The morning is… gone."

"No kidding?" Soren grinned. "Can we go now? I'm due for some lunch and by the looks of it, so are you."

Callum's attention snapped onto Soren and he hurried to clamber back into the room, ignoring the crownguard’s comment.

"Right! Good! Come on, no time to waste!" The prince reached up and clasped his friend on the shoulder, beckoning him out of the room. "We can't keep the council waiting!"

"See, I was trying to tell you that," Soren said, reaching for the door, before stopping himself.

Drawing his sword, he tapped it against the metal door knob, eliciting a tiny spark from it. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to carry a charge half way across the castle, Soren sheathed his sword and closed the door, patting a sheepish Callum on the back as they made their way down the tower.

“Not making that mistake twice, are you?” Callum murmured to the blond.

“Nope,” Soren said, popping the ‘p’. “But, uh, don’t worry about it. It happens.”

‘Oh, yeah. Because every mage under the sky has this problem,’ Callum thought to himself, frustration and embarrassment furrowing his brow. ‘But now isn’t the time for negativity.’ Callum resolved himself to force out a laugh, which looked utterly unnatural on his grumpy face.

“Did Ezran tell you what the meeting was about?” Callum asked, offering the knight a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Soren shook his head, saluting a pair of guards as they passed them.

“No, but he seemed happy. I think something good has happened.”

“As long as he isn’t summoning us to test Barius’ latest creation again. At this point, I’m surprised Ezran hasn’t formally invited him onto the council. He does more to serve the king than any of us.” A small smile played at his lips, and this time it was only a little forced. As they approached the council room, Callum sighed. “It’s probably another two hour long discussion about the riveting developments in trade between Katolis and Xadia. Well, wish me luck. Ventum Magneticus.”

Soren hadn’t even seen the boy draw the rune, but was quick to stand at attention when the doors blew open, giving the guards standing on either side of it a small heart attack.

King Ezran’s eyes shot up from the parchment in his hands as his older brother walked into the room, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Ezran gestured for Callum to take his seat across from Opeli, who herself was still recovering from the mage’s sudden entrance.

“Sorry, Opeli,” Callum said as he sat down. She took a deep breath and removed her hand from her heart.

“It’s okay, I’ll get used to it eventually.”

“Or, you could just start entering rooms like a normal person again,” Ezran said with a barely concealed roll of the eyes. Bait, who was perched up in his own chair next to the king, croaked in agreement.

Callum had made a habit of using magic whenever possible, no matter how small the task, to ‘practise his craft’, or so he said.

Maybe, being a mage - and Callum - he just couldn’t help but be a little bit… dramatic.

Or perhaps, more than anything, it was better for people to be annoyed at him, rather than concerned for him. To focus on the flinging of doors and the unexpected cracking of thunder on an otherwise sunny day, over his progressively scrawny frame and sunken eyes.

It didn’t work, of course. But not for a lack of trying.

“Of course, my lord,” Callum offered in as pompous a tone he could muster. That seemed to do the trick, Ezran biting his cheek to suppress a smile, accompanied by a small shake of the head.

“We have a lot of very important business to attend to,” Ezran started. “So, I need all of us to remain focussed. Now… Soren …” Ezran looked up at the crownguard.

“Of course, my lord.” The captain declared, turning to leave the council to their business.

“... Please enter,” Ezran finished. Soren froze for a moment, one foot off the ground, then spun on his heel.

“Oh! Uh, my bad- my lord, I mean, what can I- what would you ask of me?” Soren started, hurriedly entering the council chambers and falling to one knee.

Ezran pursed his lips to withhold a smile as he glanced at his brother, who lifted a small moon opal up onto the table; one of a few gifts from Lujanne, who for some reason had taken to doting on the young mage, once she learned that Rayla had decided to strike out on her own. Or perhaps she was simply taking an interest in his magical development; it had, after all, been lifetimes since she’d taught anyone magic.

Callum quickly drew a simple rune in the air, drawing upon the opal’s power to do so.

“Manifesto.” As soon as the word had left Callum’s mouth, something started taking shape next to him. Colours warped at his side in a range of brilliant hues, like a chameleon trying to blend into the lens of a kaleidoscope, until they eventually solidified to form the unmistakable shape of a dark, sturdy wooden chair, and a comfortable looking one at that.

Soren stared at the display, then at the object left in its wake. Then he looked up at Ezran. Then back to the chair. Then back up at Ezran. Silence filled the room for a moment as the gears worked in Soren’s head.

Was he supposed to take the chair somewhere? Were they expecting him to pick it up for some purpose? Was he supposed to sit on it to test its weight capacity?

Callum raised an eyebrow and pulled the seat out from under the table, turning it slightly towards the captain.

“Take a seat, Soren,” Ezran finally said.

Soren stood and marched towards the chair, tentatively taking a seat next to the High Mage. He gripped his knees, hoping that he was sitting respectfully enough at this table that had long sat kings, queens, high mages and only the most trusted servants of Katolis.

“Is it comfortable? Do you like it?” Ezran asked, unable to stop himself from grinning any longer.

“Yes, my lord. It's very comfortable. Quite, uh, strong, to be able to sustain not only my armour, but also my mu- my, uh, my body, that is.”

“Good,” Ezran nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

“Thank you, king Ezran.”

Was a simple ‘thank you’ good enough? It was a very nice chair, and it isn’t often that someone receives a gift from the king. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to bow or-

“Welcome to the King’s Council, Soren,” Opeli piped up as she clasped her hands together, the only person at the table who wasn’t finding any kind of relief in the moment. The gears in Soren’s head stopped turning. More than that, they clanged, clunked, and collapsed under the weight of the elephant in the room that somehow remained just out of his reach. ‘Welcome to the King’s Council, Soren. Welcome to the King’s Council… Soren. Welcome to the King’s Council.’ The words rang out in Soren’s head. ‘Soren. The King’s Council. Welcome.’ The crownguard looked at Opeli, then at Ezran, then at Callum, then at Bait, as if the glowtoad held all his answers.

The silence was becoming palpable. Humour was lost to disbelief.

“Uh, I, King Ezran, son of Harrow and Sarai, so declare, as the head of this council, that… uh…” Soren’s attention was affixed on him now, “... that you, Captain Soren, son of…” he stopped himself, “that you, Soren, elite captain of the Crownguard, my most trusted protectors, are now an official member of this council, as of this moment… right now.”

Soren’s eyes went wide.

Oh… OH.'

Soren launched from his seat and Callum caught it in its descent, before it could hit the ground.

“Thank you! King Ezran, thank you! I- I swear, I won’t let you down! I-” he cleared his throat, clasping his hands together to try and hide just how much he’d started shaking. “I am honoured, my lord. I- I, uh, I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“You never have,” Ezran smiled, and Soren’s pride faltered a little. “You’ve more than earned your place at this table.”

Had he? It wasn’t all too long ago that he’d been trying to end the boy’s reign before it had even begun. If Rayla hadn’t stopped him, Ezran probably wouldn’t be here now, and there’s no telling how the world would look today, aside from decidedly worse. Soren worked to keep up his smile.

“And to celebrate…” Ezran motioned to the guards at the door and they both turned, opening up the room. “A small lunch.” Servants flooded in from the hall. Ten, twelve, twenty; Soren couldn’t keep count as they walked around the council, distributing cutlery, crockery and food about the table fit for a king, or ten. All manner of cold meats, poultries and bovine and venison, flat breads and cheeses from across the human kingdoms.

Roe and moonberries, hard-boiled chicken eggs, thinly sliced, a salad of exotic Xadian ingredients, dressed with spirits-know-what, crawfish stew and a pot of rice, rich with fragrances he’d never smelt, and a plate of thickly sliced meat he couldn’t immediately identify, topped with spices he’d never seen, all organised around the table according to the councils’ expected tastes, but all easily accessible. At the centre of the table lie the hearty Katolin standards Soren was used to, such as sliced roasts of chicken and pork, a few loaves of bread and a stick of butter. And in the dead centre, a small wooden bowl containing a pile of salt.

“And don’t worry,” Ezran smiled, “there is also dessert!” Soren looked up at him, his previous concerns all but evaporated from his mind, carried away by the smells before him. As soon as Ezran had reached across the table, so too had Opeli and Soren, the former carefully selecting portions from the most recognisable items and the latter piling his plate high with all manner of meats, breads and cheeses, eager to try it all.

As if all of this wasn’t enough, more servants walked in with ornate clay jugs filled with water, alongside crystal decanters filled with a variety of wines and juices, accompanied by chalices made of silver, inlaid with gold.

The room would have been silent if not for the clinking of knives and forks against plates and the ‘mmm’, ‘mmph’ and ‘mmhm’ that Soren released at every portion he tried, his palate expanding into whole new realities as he discovered the joys of eating beyond Crownguard rations and buttered bread, though, he was enjoying that too.

Only Callum’s plate was left empty as he gravitated towards the moonberry juice, filling a chalice and sipping at it momentarily. For the first time that day, his mind stopped spinning in a thousand directions and focused in on the simple pleasure and the memories it brought up, all of them relatively recent, yet all of them feeling more distant by the day.

This stuff… It had become his ritual these days. Katolis’ first and biggest import from Xadia, when Rayla had stayed with them for a time. She could have asked for anything in the world and he would have offered it to her without hesitation, or, failing that, he would have found a way to get it for her. She never did, of course. But keeping a steady supply of her favourite beverage was an easy way to dote on her, in no small part because she couldn’t resist the stuff when it was around. Even once she was gone, he continued getting it in, in larger quantities than ever, for when she returned.

Should she return.

He took another sip, his eyes glazed over. It was nice, when he’d first tried it. Not particularly special, beyond it being Rayla’s favourite; her taste of home. A little bit like wine, he’d supposed, but much sweeter, without the tartness. Like grape juice, but… different. What made it special for him, though, were the moonberry kisses that would often accompany it. They made the beverage all the sweeter.

“Callum,” Ezran whispered. His brother didn’t respond, only absentmindedly taking another sip as he stared blankly at the table before him, eyes half-lidded. “Cal.” Ezran leaned over and nudged Callum, who shook his head, waking from his stupor.

“Wha…?”

“Eat something. Please?”

“I- I’m not very hungry right now, Ez,” Callum shrugged apologetically. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t eat dinner last night.”

“I had a big breakfast.”

“No, they brought it back from your room. Untouched.” Callum raised an eyebrow.

“I had a… midnight snack? Are you having the servants spy on me?” Ezran shook his head.

“Just on your eating habits. Or your not-eating habits.” Callum sighed. “I swear you’ve gone the last two weeks on nothing but moonberry juice.” The mage looked down at his empty plate.

“I… I have some bread every now and then.”

Ezran pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, in exasperation, he looked to the crownguard.

“Soren?” Ezran spoke, and the captain looked up from his meal, hastily wiping at his mouth.

“Yeph, my lore?” he tried, unable to swallow the whole puffy-cheeked mouthful in one go.

“You would- are- are you okay?”

“Mmhm,” Soren said, struggling, before sitting up straight, seemingly composed, his tongue still clearly trying to swab his mouth clean before he addressed the king.

“You would agree that your job, as the captain of the Crownguard, is to ensure that no danger should risk the lives of the royal family, correct?”

“Yes?”

“You would agree, then, that it is your job to keep us alive at all costs?”

“Um, of course,” Soren nodded.

“Well, my brother is in great danger of starving himself to death. Could you…?” He motioned to Callum’s empty plate, and Soren took to uncertainly piling it up with a wide range of meats and some of the Xadian salad. The table then took to staring at the boy, waiting for him to pick up his fork.

“You’re a growing boy,” Opeli started. “You need to eat or you’ll stunt your growth.”

Callum looked around himself. A mother-hen Opeli before him, a concerned Soren to his left and a determined Ezran to his right.

'Damn it. Surrounded on all sides.' Callum finally lifted his fork and stabbed it ruthlessly into the tiniest morsel of pork - of anything - on his plate, popping it into his mouth and chewing it vehemently before swallowing, staring his brother down all the while. Still, Ezran only looked up at him with those big, blue eyes, a pout slowly forming on his face.

Callum set his fork down on the table and took to shielding his eyes from his brother’s visage.

“Ugh, Ez, don’t…”

“Callum? Please?” Ezran whined.

‘Nope. Not falling for this. Not happening. Nope.’

“Cally?”

“I’m just not hungry, Ez. I’ll eat when I am, I promise.” He momentarily moved his hand, before shielding his eyes again. It was the ‘one-more-story face’, better known to others as the ‘one-more-jelly-tart face’, the breaker of wills.

Ezran huffed, then, looking back up at the crownguard, he lifted his fork and made a swooping motion with it. Soren’s eyes sparkled, a mischievous grin spreading on his face. He picked up the mage’s fork and stabbed into a bundle of the unidentified Xadian greens. They were… cabbage-like, if nothing else.

“Okay, m’lord ,” Soren started, lifting the veggies to be eye level with the High Mage of Katolis. “Say ‘aahhhh’ for the angry dragon!”

Callum looked at him incredulously. “Don’t you dare-” He clamped his mouth shut and shifted away as the fork came towards him, and it backed off, Soren moving it in little circles.

“Come oonnn. If you don’t eat the dragon, the dragon will eat your toes,” he said in a singsong voice. “Remember?”

“I feel like-” Callum started, shifting away as the fork came for him, “that this- isn’t appropriate- given the- current- political- climate.” He dodged and weaved as Ezran and Opeli watched on in amusement, until Soren seemingly gave up, lowering the fork. “I appreciate your concern, really, but-” Callum clamped his mouth shut again, defiant till the end, but this time the fork came for him anyway, smushing the veggies against his closed mouth, smearing dressing over his lips and nose and across his cheek.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ezran absolutely lost it, howling as he fell back into his chair, tears stinging his eyes. Opeli, too, covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Soren retreated away, lips pursed in a fight to not grin at his handiwork. Callum crossed his arms, putting on his best ‘really?’ face, but even he couldn’t help smiling when Ezran looked up at him and fell into another fit of giggles.

“Okay, okay…” Callum chuckled, picking up a cloth and wiping his face. “Wasn’t that funny.”

“Yes it was,” Ezran said as righted himself. “Soren? Do it again.”

“Wait, wait!” Callum snatched the fork from the crownguard and popped it in his mouth, chewing down the salad and swallowing. “I’ll eat, I’ll eat, just… don’t do that again.” Ezran looked down at his plate, then back up at him, as if daring him to eat his food.

‘You’re going to eat?’ his eyes said. ‘Prove it.’

So Callum leaned over the table to pick up some Neolandian flatbread, filled it with the sweet smelling rice and then topped it with what he was pretty sure was braised musk bear in spices so otherworldly that they had to have been Xadian. Clearly, someone in the kitchen was enjoying Katolis’ new trade agreements. Then, making direct eye contact with Ezran, he took a bite.

And he chewed. It was good. Really good. Earthy, succulent and a little sweet, the bread dry but soft. His eyes dropped down to the rest of it, still folded in his hands. He’d meant it when he said he wasn’t hungry - or more accurately, that he simply didn’t want to eat - and he wasn’t sure if it was the levity of the moment or if it really was just so divine, but…

Callum took another bite, leaning back into his chair even if crumbs were spilling onto his pants. Already, Soren had followed suit, trying this new combination of ingredients he would never have even considered, while Opeli had taken to resting her chin on the backs of her hands, just happy to see Callum finally eat, even if he was yet again staring blankly at nothing, no doubt wishing he could share this with that elf girl.

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