Son of a Baron

As a child, Angus was like most kids: very curious with a strong desire to fit in. Although Sturgeon was trained as a knight, he sent Angus to a Monastic school so he could learn the quadrivium. This was skipped over in Sturgeon’s training as a knight. As a result, he could barely do basic math.

Angus arrived at the monastic school in his typical Baron attire. It was mostly black with accents of gold, complete with a puffy hat typical of the time. This place of education was mostly for the wealthy. They even had books. Given that his family weren’t owners of a large estate or higher ranking members of nobility, Angus was pretty nervous that he wasn’t going to fit in. To this point, he had only interacted with his family and servants. A group waved him over from one of the tables.

“Hey, come and join us!”

“Uh- sure. Thanks.”

“You’re plenty pale.”

Angus was indeed pale, which was often a sign of wealth at the time. Anyone who didn’t have to work outside was either wealthy or adjacent to the wealthy such as a servant or housecleaner. His pitch black hair perfectly contrasted his skin.

“Can we see your hands?”

“Yeah…”

Although he thought it was strange, Angus didn’t really question it. When they saw that his hands were not calloused, they immediately accepted him.

“I’m Bertrand, this is Peter and James.”

“Angus. Nice to meet you all.”

“What’s your rank, Angus?”

“Huh?”

“What level of nobility is your father?”

“He’s a Baron. Not too high up.”

“So are you like related to nobility or anything like that?”

“Not really, we just own some land.”

“Cool, do you have servants?”

“We have a few, yeah.”

This class-based discussion was beginning to feel like an interrogation. He felt the urge to turn the attention away from himself.

“How about you guys?”

“I’m only distantly related to the king. My dad’s also a Baron. We’ve got like 25 servants.”

“25? That’s quite a bit.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Listen to how many Peter has.”

“I have 40 to myself, and my parents share 60.”

“How do you have that many?”

“My dad’s the Earl. If we were even one step higher, I’d be taking private lessons in our estate.”

“Your dad’s the Earl? That’s crazy!”

James’s dad was also a Baron. Although in most kingdoms there were only two barons, the regent in Warwick was a little bit non-traditional. Any successful officer would become a Baron. This means that there were two classes of Barons, the petit Barons and traditional Barons. Both Bertrand and James’s parents were the traditional Barons. Angus was outclassed, but he didn't know it yet. The conversation continued, and Angus was accepted. For now.

They began to learn the Trivium, the basic set of the three liberal arts. These included grammar, logic, and rhetoric. With help from his parents, Angus excelled at all three. With help from their uneducated servants, Bertrand and James began to struggle. While they could memorize the concepts, they needed Angus’s help to actually understand some of the content. As an Earl’s son, Peter had some educated servants who could help him out. However, Peter was unsatisfied. He didn’t like that Bertrand and James were going to Angus first. Overall, things were going well, though.

For the aristocratic adults, however, things were more dire. The Barons, the Marquis, and the Regent all gathered for an emergency meeting.

---

“I assume you all know why I have called you here?”

“The crack in the sky?”

“Right, Sturgeon.”

Henry of Leicester, the Regent and an Earl, stood and cleared his throat.

“We all need to be prepared if something terrible happens. Every time the crack grows, people are getting sick, including our young King Edward. If you are an officer, be prepared for combat in case demons escape the crack. Even if you are retired, be prepared to join the force again. If not for combat, for aiding civilians in their retreat. Under the influence of my Regency, I have given all of my officers land and nobility status. Therefore, it is only natural that I ask of you all to help defend the land that we have given you and the communities around you. Do you have any questions?”

The crowd was hesitant until another former officer spoke up.

“Um- demons, sir?”

“Indeed. A patrol of our finest soldiers has revealed something that looked like a man falling out of the crack. Whatever it was, it used magic against our soldiers.”

“Magic? Impossible! Parlor tricks have no place on the battlefield.”

“I assure you, this is not a meager illusion. For evidence, you may look at the wounded. Several were burst into a fine mist from a powerful blast of fire. Others have the cleanest looking lacerations I have ever seen.”

“Cleanest?”

“Yes. It was as if their armor, flesh, and bones provided no resistance to a slice. There are some survivors missing limbs. They may be able to provide more details.”

“My goodness, however could our armies possibly stand against such a threat? We must alert everyone at once!”

“Pipe down! It seems as if whatever came from the crack is working alone for now. If possible, it may be useful to withhold this information from the public to prevent widespread panic.”

There was much disagreement at first, but eventually the Barons, the Count, and the Regent came to a consensus. They would hide this from the general public, but share it with the king’s guard and advisors. Charles, the Marquis, disagreed with this plan but had to abide by it even though he was above the Regent in the peerage system. He was simply outvoted. Officers would come back to work to prepare a great defense against this new threat without being able to even tell their families why. The collective excuse was “to prepare for a battle with France”.

---

For a while, Sturgeon had to make himself scarce from his home. The work with the infantry was grueling, but he was physically fit enough to handle it. Angus still thrived in his classes, but his mother needed help moving things around while he was gone. One day, when he was working outside, Peter, the son of Henry of Leicester, happened to see him.

“Angus? What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, I’m just helping my mother. We’re in the spice trade.”

“Why are you laboring? Don’t you have servants?”

“We only have a few, Peter. We’re not that fortunate-”

“You didn’t tell me you were poor!”

Silence. For a moment, even the wind through the trees seemed to stop in its tracks. Peter was visibly irritated.

“What do you mean, Peter? We own land. We have plenty of money.”

“You’re a Baron, Angus. Labor is unbefitting of a Baron. Who is your father?”

“Sturgeon Easton, the infantry officer.”

“That buffoon? He was born poor, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Seems like it. The poor hasn’t left him yet; he’s every bit as loud and brash as a serf soldier. Your old man goes about town boasting of his prize, but his reward is this? To have his son toil in the midday heat?”

“It’s not that bad, Peter! I’m just helping my mother!”

“You’re just lowering yourself!”

“Am not, I’m a Baron just like Bertrand and James.”

“No you’re not. Their parents were born into it and yours were not. You fake Barons are a stain on the nobility!”

And with that, his primary friendships quickly dissolved. The crack in the sky roared and grew in size as Peter walked away muttering to himself. For the rest of his time at Monastic school, he made sure to introduce himself to everyone he met.

“Hi, I’m Angus, son of a Baron.”

But he didn’t dare tell them which one.