Departure - Chapter 2

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The days passed seamlessly until the final two days had finally arrived for us. We sat at the table, with it feeling fuller than I’d ever seen it. The smell of roasted root vegetables and fish stew filled the room, and the fire’s warmth wrapped us all close. Even Reginald had claimed a place at the edge of the table, perched proudly beside my bowl like he belonged there. I don’t think anyone even thought to shoo him away anymore. I tried my best to keep him away from any boiling pots.

Herring sat across from me, back straight, expression unreadable as usual. His ears twitched at every small sound, but somehow, he didn’t seem out of place anymore. For someone who’d stumbled out of a cave half-dead a year ago, he had become part of our home. Part of our rhythm, I’d say. Gil nudged Luisa playfully as she handed him a cup of cider. She gave him that smirk I’d grown used to seeing. The one that said she was amused even if she pretended otherwise. Mother noticed, of course. She always noticed. Her eyes softened in that way they did whenever she saw a future she liked taking shape.

“Two nights until the ceremony,” Father said suddenly, his voice steady and low. He lifted his cup, glancing around the table. “Feels strange, doesn’t it? A year gone and look how far we’ve come.” I lowered my eyes to my stew, stirring it without much thought. A year gone. My heartbeat pulsed heavier just hearing it put into words. Gil chuckled suddenly. “Herring’s gotten strong. Stronger than me, I’d wager. Another year and I’ll be left behind,” he said sheepishly in a kidding manner. Herring’s strong gaze shifted toward me. “...Not yet,” he muttered, voice rough like stone grinding against one another. I blinked, always surprised every time I heard him speak. His voice didn’t match his boyish face, but his words carried weight all the same. I smiled at him. “You really have gotten stronger. You should be proud.” He dipped his head just slightly at the words. That was as much as I ever expected to get from him.

Gil leaned forward, as though he could keep something inside any longer. “Lance has decided. He doesn’t want to fish anymore. He wants to train…to become a knight.” My spoon slipped into the stew with a splash. “A knight? But…I thought he wanted to follow you on the boats.” He responded brightly. “So did I,” grinning with that proud older brother look of his. “But after watching Herring, after watching me try to keep pace with him. I’m pretty sure Lance said he wanted his own strength. Said a knight could protect more than nets ever could.”

Mother’s hands clasped together instantly, her eyes glowing at the statement. “Oh, how wonderful! To have such noble dreams….” But Luisa, ever the sharp one, frowned. “Gilbert, you shouldn’t go spilling his ambitions when he’s not here to say them himself.” Gil sobered quickly in the moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. Still, I can’t help being proud of him.” The room quieted, the fire crackling the only sound. I sat there with my heart tight, glancing around the table. Everything has changed. Gil and Luisa together, Lance dreaming of knighthood, Herring sitting with us as though he’s always belonged, Reginald practically part of the family now. And me…

Two nights. In just two nights, everyone in the village would see what I’ve been hiding for the past year. My secret would no longer be mine alone. When I looked up, Father was already watching me, eyes steady as always. He didn’t need to say much. I knew he understood. “We’ve all grown,” he said softly, raising his cup again. ‘But Chloe…your road begins in earnest soon. And whatever happens at that ceremony….” His eyes lingered on me, holding me in place. “...know this: you’ll never walk it alone. “The words warmed me more than the stew ever could. Even Reginald tapped his claw against the table as if agreeing. Making us all laugh, and for a moment, the heaviness of such an event lifted.

That night, the house was quieter than usual. Mother had gone to bed early, exhausted from preparing so much food, while Luisa cleaned up shop, going over her notes for tomorrow. Gil had already left for home, and Herring…well, Herring had his own corner now. Father had made the bed himself. A sturdy frame of wood, fitted into the free space of the second floor near the stairwell. It wasn’t much, but Herring never complained. He lay there now, already drifting, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. His ears twitched every so often, even in sleep. I liked to think it made us all feel safer, having him there. Like a silent watchman, too proud to admit he cared a lot about the position.

Reginald had half-buried himself in his little box of beach sand, only his glowing shell peeking out. The soft violet hue pulsed faintly, casting ripples across the same wooden beams I’d stared at for weeks on end. It always made me feel calm, as if he’d been a personal night light. Father and I sat at the table in my room, a lantern lit between us, its light soft against his worn features. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking as though the whole day’s weight was finally pressing down on him.

“Two nights, Chloe,” he said at last, his voice steady. “You’ve done well to keep this quiet for so long. But once the chapel sees…” His brow furrowed. “...they won’t be able to turn away from it.” I fiddled with my quill, tracing small patterns on the edge of my notebook. “Do you think they’ll be angry?”

He didn’t answer right away. That worried me more than any quick ‘no’ could have. Finally, he shook his head. “Not angry. Just…rather watchful. When gifts show themselves early, people talk. The chapel doesn’t like surprises.” I bit my lip hearing the thought. “If I can’t keep it a secret anymore, then I want to make sure I can choose what I’ll do with it. Father…” I leaned forward, hesitating, “...is there any way I could be your official apprentice? If I learned everything from you, then maybe—”

He stopped me with a small smile and a shake of his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Chloe. An apprentice can’t be family—too much conflict of interest, they say. To be recognized as a merchant, you’ll need your license. That means the road, handling trade outside of our walls, setting up a shop, proving yourself where others can’t look down on you for being ‘just my daughter.’” I slumped in my chair, disappointed. Though a part of me had already expected such an answer. “...So, I really have to do it all myself.”

“Not alone,” he corrected firmly, leaning forward so the lantern’s glow lit his tired but certain eyes. “You’ll always have us. But yes, the license is yours to earn.”. I opened my book and tapped the latest page where I’d been scribbling ideas. “What if I start with medicine? I mean—the one I’ve been making for myself works, right? Better than what we had before. If I refined it, if I learned how to prepare it properly, maybe it could be something worth selling. Not just here, but in other towns, villages, maybe even to the guilds.”

He studied me for a long moment. Then, with a rare softness, his hand ruffled my hair like he used to when I first arrived. “You’ve already thought more than some of the seasoned merchants do. If you can make a product worth sharing, that’s the heart of it. And Chloe…” His smile widened, pride glowing in his eyes. “I’m proud. Truly proud of you.” I blinked; warmth welled in my chest. For a moment, it was almost enough to drown out the nerves twisting in my stomach about the ceremony.