5. Rosids will bloom on your final day

Haugstad, Kingdom of Divinium, Eastern region of Rohana Federation, 2042 S.C., 122nd day

The rosids were still blooming the morning they buried Adel. The season of Nadia had arrived in full force. The air was thick with heat, and the tall trees at the cemetery's edge provided what little shade they could. Some of the petals flew by the mourners that have filed in silence.

The grave has been dug at the cemetery's very edge, and the tall trees from the forest provided much-needed shade during the rising temperature.

“Adel sure has chosen his time to join the Creators, huh?“ one of the villagers spoke.

Adel's body lay wrapped in a simple cloth, placed on a wooden bier. Someone had tucked rosids into the folds of the wrapping. The effect might have been beautiful, if not for what lay beneath.

Above the grave, Malcolm stood sentinel as the last farewells were to take place. After decorations from the villagers were completed around the hole, Adel’s body was lowered into the ground.

“Our fearless leader of many years has decided to join the creators. His spirit went to the plains of creation, and the vessel, we return to the mother from which it came. From the dust we were created, and to the dust we return.”

Malcolm closed out the ceremony, and the villagers started to disband. As the mourners dispersed, walking back toward the village, fragments of conversation drifted through the warm air.

"One hundred and twenty star-cycles. My grandfather said Adel was one of the strongest warriors Haugstad ever produced."

“I mean, my grandfather said he was one of the most vital warriors in the village back in the day.“

“I mean, to survive all the monster encounters and live such a long life is a feat in itself.“

"His mind held until the end, too. Well, mostly. That last year was difficult."

As some of them remiss, they were passing next to Martina and Agnus, who walked with Heron, their hands clasped around his. He was six star-cycles old now, old enough to understand that Grampa Adel wouldn't be coming back. But he was yet to process that finality.

Heron grew quite close to Adel. The retired chief used his free time to watch over the children in the village, but he especially looked over Heron, having the boy over regularly at his home.

Adel never married; it was a mystery in the village how that came to be. By the time he got elected as village chief, he just waved it off as having enough priorities that marriage would have to wait. And it just never came.

But even if he had no blood-related family, he always thought of everyone in the village as part of his family. Though he isn’t there to see it, he was not wrong. Everyone in the village came for the final send-off.

Yet, one person, though not from the village, was not present. Haran was nowhere to be seen, but it is understandable due to his work with the church. Malcolm did inform him by sending the letter.

And so after a few days, as the light of the crosses cast its rays on the cemetery, a figure stood above his grave. One glass of mead on the tombstone, the other one in his hand.

“Sorry, I wasn’t here for the big event, old man, but Malcolm told me it was a sight to behold. Also, sorry for not being around more. But I tried my best during the past four years. It is just that there are so many quests, and they take so much time. Hope you know I did the best I could to come around and see my son grow. And thank you for being such a good caretaker. Even when my life was in peril, when I thought my life would be claimed, at no point was I regretting leaving my son in your hands.“

He raised his glass. “Here is to you. May your spirit find a new life in the plains of creation!“

He then spilled the mead into the ground.

As he was leaving the cemetery, there was a figure waiting near the gate. It was Agnus. He didn’t say anything as Haran approached.

“Agnus,” Haran said as he stopped leaving some distance between the men. “I wasn’t expecting you to come out here.”

“Yes, well, the guard informed me, he spotted you leaving your motorcycle outside the village, so I gathered you’d show up here. Would you mind if we took a walk?” as Agnus gestured towards the path that led away from the village.

They moved in silence for a time, following the worn trail that separated the wheat fields and the forest. Beneath the canopies of the trees, the air was cool, and the path was illuminated only by rays that made it through the thickness of the leaves.

“It’s been around five star-cycles,” Adel finally said. “Five star-cycles since Adel brought Heron to our door, asking us to take him in. Told us that the boy’s father was a good man caught in circumstances beyond his control. Pleaded with us to trust him.”

“And you did,” Haran said quietly.

“We did. Because it was Adel asking. Because his word had more weight than any amount of coins.” Agnus’s voice remained even. “You are aware that Martina and I couldn’t have children of our own. We tried, but the Creators saw fit to deny us that blessing. So when Adle came to us with Heron… it felt that Creators at least gave us an answer to the prayers we long said.”

Haran's throat tightened. "He's fortunate to have you both."

"Maybe. But he's also fortunate to have a father who sends supplies, who hires adventurers to keep the demons at bay, who visits when he can."

Agnus stopped walking and turned to face Haran directly. "The question is, what happens now? Adel was the bridge between you and this village. He was the one who convinced the council to accept this arrangement. He was the one who kept track of when you'd visit, who made sure Heron was occupied when you came. Now he's gone."

"I know," Haran said, his voice rough. “What is it that you want me to say, Agnus?”

“I would like you to tell me what the plan is going forward. You knew of Adel’s condition. He was struggling with his health for a while. You must have known this day would come.”

“I knew, but it always escaped my mind. No, that would be a lie. I just kept saying to myself, there will be a time when I’ll address it all. But so many things are happening, Agnus. To you, this village and its outskirts are all you know. But there is a whole world out there and tides keep turning.”

“Haran, I do not care about the world outside. My world may be small, but that boy has become a large part of it. What I want to know is, do you intend to keep hiding the truth from him?”

"He deserves better than what I can give him," Haran said, his voice barely above a whisper. "A father who can't be present, who carries dangers that could—"

"He deserves the truth," Agnus said. Then shifted his tone to be much colder. “It’s either that, or you walk away. Forget about him, forget about the village.”

Haran looked back toward the cemetery, where Adel's grave lay beneath its covering of rosids. "A long time ago, I spoke with Adel about how we should tell the truth to the boy. He was insistent that it was the right thing to do. Then, as things progressed in my life, I realized how much danger my work brings, and I kept pushing it away. But you are right, I need to make a decision. Can you give me a few days? There is the next shipment I’ll bring, and then you will have my answer."

Agnus studied him for a long moment, then gave a single nod. "A few days, then. But Haran, don't make me regret giving you the time."

Several days later, Haran returned to the village bringing the promised supplies. Malcolm met him at the village gate with a slight smile on his face. "Haran. You really pushed yourself too hard." Behind Haran came a carriage drawn by two horses that looked travel-worn.

"Once the season ends, and the weather gets cold, it will be much tougher to bring out supplies, so I figured I’d bring as much as I could this time."

"Far from me to refuse such help to the village. I see you didn’t come with your vehicle."

"I rented these horses and the carriage; I need to return them to their owner once everything is unloaded."

"Looks like a parting gift to the village, would you say, Haran?" It was Agnus who came from behind. "Thank you for advance notice, by the way."

“I’ll be with you in a moment. I just need to finish up with Malcolm.”

“Oh, don’t let me occupy you,” Malcolm said. Then he signaled to two villagers, who then began unloading the carriage.

“Then we should get to the tavern, if you don’t mind. I think I'll drink will do us both some good.” Agnus said, signaling to Haran to go along with him.

“Yes, I think I’d enjoy some beer. It has been a moment since I drank Haugstad’s finest.”

The tavern they went to had a combination of rough stone walls on top of which were wooden beams going into the roof. The openings in the walls were small, latticed windows from which light shone into space. There was no internal lighting present, as it was still daytime, so while light was present, it was still dim inside.

Haran and Adel set down a rustic wooden table, settling in small three-legged stools.

“And what would you boys like to drink?”

“Two cups of your best brew, please, Bertha,” Agnus said. Haran nodded, confirming the request.

“Coming right up,” the woman said and left the two men in silence. It was hard for them to start up conversations. Even while they walked towards the cabin, they kept to themselves, walking in silence.

"So, what's your answer?" Agnus finally faced him.

“Not waiting around, are we? Very well. I want to tell him.”

Agnus's expression didn't change, but something in his shoulders relaxed slightly. "That's a good answer. Better than I expected, if I'm honest."

"Adel was right. He deserves to know." Haran's voice was rough. "I just... After all this time, I can’t just start being his father. What do I even say to him?"

"You start with the truth," Agnus said simply. "You tell him why you couldn't stay. And then you let him decide what to do with that information."

"And if he hates me for it?"

"Then you accept that. But Haran..." Agnus placed a hand on his shoulder. "I've been watching that boy for four years now. He's stubborn. But he's also got a good heart. Give him time, and he'll understand. Maybe not right away, but eventually."

Haran nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Martina and I will prepare him," Agnus continued. "When we think he's ready, we'll send word. Then you can come and tell him yourself."

"Thank you." The words felt inadequate. "For everything. For raising him, for giving him a home, for—"

"He's our son too now," Agnus interrupted. "That doesn't change just because you're stepping into his life."

The conversation got interrupted as Bertha arrived with two clay mugs, setting them down.

“Enjoy your drinks.”

The two men drank their beers in silence. Haran didn’t feel the need to retort to Angus's remark. He knew that Agnus was more a father to Heron than he would ever be, and it is not like he can just take the boy. His tenure at the church is ongoing, and he doesn’t even know if it will end.

When the mugs were empty, Agnus stood first.

"I should get back. Martina will want to know how this went."

Haran rose as well, leaving a few coins on the table for Bertha. "Tell her... tell her I'm grateful. To both of you."

"I will." Agnus extended his hand, and Haran clasped it firmly. "Safe travels, Haran. And when we send word, I expect you to come prepared. The boy will have questions."

"I know." Haran's grip tightened briefly before letting go. "I'll be ready."

They parted at the tavern door. Agnus turned back toward the center of the village, Haran heading for the gate where his rented horses waited. Evening was setting in as the crosses above began their faint evening pulse.

By morning, Haran would be reaching Jamtara, back to his service to the church. As he returned, the news would reach him that an urgent task awaited him.