A young gryphon

 “Name?” Asked the gruff looking man sitting near the entrance of the mine.

“Hugo, Hugo Gorman.” He replied, a boy no older than ten.

With a heavy coat and a face barely visible beyond the soot of coal, he was one among thousands. Perhaps his only feature of note would be his golden hair, though that too had become nothing more than a dirty blonde after a day of work.

“Three shillings for a week of labor, paid on Saturday evening.” The man wrote something down on a piece of paper before handing the boy three coins, twelve pennies each.

“Make sure you’re present by Monday, a quarter past six. Next.” Hugo did not leave, instead stepping aside and waiting for the man behind him.

“James Gorman.” His father said.

“Fifteen shillings for a week of labor, paid on Saturday evening. Next.”

There was little to be said about James. He was a miner like any other, lacking even the golden hair of his son.

The rumble of machinery could be heard as they began to wade through the landscape of the great city, the clock towers of the urban districts barely seen beyond the pillars of smoke that rose high into the sky, surpassed in size only by the city sprawl that stretched far beyond the horizon.

The two did not go far, less than a mile away laid the bakery they frequented. The father held out a hand, the son placed his three shillings within.

In four minute’s time they sat outside, each holding half a loaf of bread with a small piece of dried meat. It was a celebratory tradition of sorts for a week of hard work, as little as it may entail.

Hugo pointed at a sign across the street. “Pa, what does that one say?”

“‘The Ship and Shovell pub’” James said, his exhausted voice barely heard over the urban noise. Hugo hummed for a moment before pointing at another.

“Then does that one say ‘Coal Shole pub’?” He continued to ask.

“Almost. It’s ‘Coal Hole pub’” His father absentmindedly replied before suddenly turning towards Hugo, eyes widening in shock.

“How did you know that?” The boy hummed to himself once again as he chewed, repeatedly turning his head in thought. He simply shrugged after a while.

“I mean, the patterns are all the same. So I just thought I could copy how you say them.” He took a bite from his loaf.

“Ish a shame I goddit wron’ though” Hugo said with a full mouth.

The boy looked at his father with curiosity as the man began to chuckle, smiling along even if he didn’t understand the reason behind the man’s amusement.

“That’s really impressive you know? I don’t know anyone else your age who can do that.” James placed a hand upon his son’s head, softly running his fingers through locks of dirty blonde.

He chuckled, a bitter little thing that held no amusement. “But you’re right, it truly is a shame.”

Neither of the two spoke for a while, the air between them as silent as the urban streets would allow.

“Pa?” Hugo said after finishing his bread. James grunted in acknowledgement.

“Where do people learn how to read?”

A confused look flashed across the father’s face, though he answered regardless. “Some learn in school, others are taught by their parents. Most people don’t learn at all.”

The boy looked at his father expectantly. “Can you teach me then?”

James couldn’t help but snort. “I’ll try.”

“What else do people learn at school?”

The man sighed in exasperation as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Writing, numbers. I think some teach scriptures. Your old pa here wouldn’t know too well, I learned from a nun in the church.” He waved his hand dismissively, taking out a small bit of tobacco before rolling it in a piece of paper.

“Can I go to school then? I wanna learn numbers.”

James lit the cigarette before taking a long puff. “Why? Nothing interesting about em’.”

The boy simply shrugged. “I dunno, I just wanna learn.”

“Figure out an actual reason then.”

Hugo hummed in thought with a hand held to his chin, he snapped his finger in realization after a moment. “The paymaster needs to know numbers right? If I learn numbers, I can become a paymaster!”

The man sighed. “Just forget it, those kinds of dreams aren’t applicable to us. Your old pa can’t afford to send you to school.” James stood up to leave.

“Then, if I make a lot of shillings at the mine, can I go to school?” Hugo asked immediately.

The man snorted in amusement. “Sure, you can do anything if you have enough money. I’ll see you later at the old hut, pa’s going to get a drink.” His figure soon disappeared into the pub, not to be seen again until the next day.

Hugo found himself sitting on the river bank, attempting to cleanse his heart of the old memories that refused to take their leave.

He had to snort at his own pathetic nature. Sitting here and wasting time, unable to simply give an answer to Orin’s offer.

A ‘no’ was all he needed. The villagers would be angry to be sure, but his family would accept his decision—and that’s all that really mattered. The months spent with Orin and his caravan were unique to be sure, but it was time to let go and return to where he truly wished to be, here at Belan.

A ‘no’ was all he needed. And yet—

“The river current always calms the mind, does it not?” Hugo nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. His mother giggled.

“You get so absorbed in your thoughts at times, the sky could turn green and you wouldn’t notice.”

Hugo cleared his throat in an attempt to conserve some level of dignity. “It’s not my fault that you’re so quiet.”

“Yes, yes. Sir Airhead.” The best method to fight against teasing was undoubtedly to ignore it, so he simply returned to staring at the river. Althea didn’t speak any further, instead humming a small tune.

The Knight of Speyer.

“...You can just ask what the problem is.” He said after a while, Althea shook her head.

“I can only extend a hand of support, it’s up to you to take it.”

Hugo couldn't help but groan internally. Why did his mother have to be so reasonable?

“I’m just…a little scared is all.”

“Now why would that be?”

‘Hugo! Get back here, it’s dangerous!’ James yelled, Hugo pressed on regardless, his eyes set on the glowing stone that laid just a few meters in. Perhaps the boy thought it could catch a high price, perhaps he believed it could make his dreams come true.

It mattered not, for he would never leave that bowel of hell.

Why was he scared? He couldn’t quite say.

This fear that had taken root in his heart, he found no rationality within. A few years of schooling at the Avelin academy, that is all Orin’s offer entailed. There was no true obligation for him to change the course of his life, he could simply return to Belan when it was all said and done.

And yet…

“It feels like…if I were to go, you wouldn’t be here when I return.”

Just like that time, when he pursued a star in the cavern wall with no regard for the father who called out to him.

“And even if that’s not the case, I have no reason to leave Belan. This daily bliss that has repeated thousands of times, I want it to continue for millions more.” A crack ran down his words, his voice shaking in spite of his best efforts.

“...That’s true, our life here in Belan is quite idyllic is it not?” His mother said after a moment.

“You and Rucio would spend the day working the fields, and spar together when given the chance. Ellyn will pester you two for getting covered in mud, yet not once would she tell you to stop. When night falls Rucio and I will hold a play at the tavern, and you will smile as the entire village comes to cheer us on.” His lips tugged ever so slightly upwards, a thousand variations of the scene described flashing by.

“Such simplistic beauty is why your father and I retired from theatre, there is an untouchable joy here like no other. But…are you confident that you see this beauty as Rucio and I do?” Hugo wished to exclaim a ‘yes!’ out loud. Though he stayed silent, knowing his mother is not finished.

Althea pointed at the blue mountain ridge in the distance, the boundless sky above promising an endless world beyond the tiny cradle they all lived in. “Did you know? A young gryphon migrates far across the sea, to a land beyond even our wildest imagination. Unbound by law or land, it sees all that the world has to offer.”

She then pointed at the river, his precious village lay not one kilometer away. “Yet when the time is ripe, the gryphon returns to the land where it was born, bearing scars of the journey in remembrance of both good and bad.”

Though it was not intended for him to see, Hugo noticed his mother run a finger across a faded scar on her wrist. “There, it makes its nest—having seen the highest peaks of the world. Only then does it understand the truth in its heart, that the mountain base upon which it broke its shell was the highest peak of all.”

Althea smiled as she booped Hugo on the nose. “You must break your shell first if you wish to see the beauty of this village, my little gryphon.”

There was a long period of silence, followed by a sigh from Hugo. Althea’s smile grew a little wider at the sound.