Unraveled Homecoming

by J. L. Shelton

  Agnes snorted as she carefully folded up the completed garment. “Some people just cannot stop blabbering during the fitting process, like that Krause lad. That one had some rather fanciful and delusional ideas until about a month or so ago.”

  While Garin believed in coincidences, hearing that name yet again was one too many! “Will this be the third vague warning I’ve received since returning to Crosshawk that this Melker fellow hates my guts for marrying Mattie?”

  “Only three? I thought you would’ve heard more than that by now,” Agnes cackled before taking the finished piece of clothing to the back room.

  After the door closed, Beatrice shook her head. “That was a ‘yes’, my lord, if you haven’t figured that out already.”

  “Please, call me ‘Garin’,” he said while crossing his arms. “Just how badly could he make things for me?”

  “While I don’t usually like to gossip, you are technically family now,” said Beatrice with a sigh. “And you should be made aware that Melker is the eldest son of a rather prosperous landholder. The fact he has four followers he calls ‘friends’ who share the same unique position, and very badly is the answer that springs to my mind.”

  Garin’s brow furrowed. “I’m guessing Adler Bergstrom is one. Who are the other three?”

  “Harlan Mayer, Nikolas Dahl, and—”

  “Johann Langenberg!” shouted Agnes as she returned to the room. “The whole lot of them are prideful and spoiled brats!”

  “Nikolas isn’t that bad,” reprimanded Beatrice.

  “Only when the rest aren’t around!”

  “There’s hope that Flynn can help get Nikolas back on an acceptable track; I saw the two of them talking outside the Pheasant the other day with Kelby.”

  Garin had no idea who any of these people were, so he shook his head and said, “Now I’m completely lost.”

  Agnes chuckled. “Hopefully you can get unlost before too much longer. The Bauers are landholders as well, their property is close to the eastern border along the King’s Road.”

  Garin’s brow furrowed, thinking of all the times he had left for Nova Forte along that path. Just past the commerce-ridden area, there was nothing but grassland until the bridge that spanned Hawk’s Run. Remembering the animals roaming along the fields, he asked, “Do they raise sheep?”

  Beatrice nodded. “Flynn is the eldest son of that family, and he’s good friends with Kelby. Nikolas used to spend more time with them until his sister started courting Harlan’s youngest brother.”

  “This is so confusing,” groaned Garin.

  “Only because you haven’t spent much time with any of the residents, despite traveling through here for the past seven years,” grumbled Agnes as she sat down at her worktable.

  Garin gave her an incredulous look for that reprimand. “Which I might have done if I hadn’t been treated like a damn leper from the second I first stepped a foot into this town! And after two years of people making it quite clear that I wasn’t welcomed, I decided that leaving you all the hell alone was better than taking the chance at being offended enough to start a war!”

  Agnes leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and joining her hands together. She rested her chin on the cradle her fingers created for it and said with twinkling eyes, “Ah, honesty from you at long last.”

  “I told you Crosshawk wouldn’t have accepted him if he truly hated us all,” said Beatrice a little too merrily.

  Garin’s eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between the two overly happy women. “Did Henriella tell you that bit of information about me as well?”

  “No,” said Beatrice with a quiet laugh. “We’re merely related to one of the few people in Crosshawk who is immediately informed whenever the land has connected to someone.”

  “And she’ll introduce herself to you soon enough,” said Agnes with a stern expression on her face, as if his glare had no effect on her. “So don’t bother asking us her name.”

  “What is it with all these secrets in Crosshawk anyways?” growled Garin.

  “You, whose father is Easton and whose mother is Iantha, wonder why we guard ourselves so closely? You of all people should know that sometimes the best protection comes from hiding the truth in plain sight!” snapped Agnes angrily.

  Garin couldn’t help but flinch at the seamstress’ pointed statement, wondering how in the hell they knew who his mother was! He had been sent into fosterage immediately after his birth to keep him safe from the enemies of two courts, and Baron Reginald Von Bos had given his last name to his foster son as soon as he had been able. Very few in Menapolin knew of Garin’s elven heritage, or at least he had believed that to have been the case! But if others in Crosshawk also knew the truth about his mother’s identity, no wonder the people here have always seemed to despise him!

  “Plus, the duchy is run far differently than the rest of Menapolin,” added Beatrice as she finally placed her work aside, her words pulling him out of uncomfortable thoughts in regards to Iantha. “And in far more ways than the simple fact that there are no serfs found living within her borders. In order for the true purpose of Crosshawk’s creation to continue, it must remain a self-governing protectorate. Why else do you think Mattie went all the way to Nova Forte to solidify her claim as heir? It wasn’t just for her sake, but for ours as well.”

  “And that, lad, is what we need from you,” said Agnes firmly. “To share that responsibility with your wife; to help her protect us when need arises. While the power in the land itself has faith in your willingness to do so, the majority of the people here doubt you would even consider us worth the bother.”

  “If you all hadn’t made every previous stay here prickly at best,” snarled Garin. “My honor would not be in question like this! Of course I would help Mattie protect everyone in the duchy! Damn it; with everything I had to go through in order for us to be joined together—this is now the only home I have left!”

  Beatrice hummed a bit and pointed at his right hand. “You still have a refuge to run to if need be.”

  Garin looked down at the signet ring on his finger and then glared at the woman. “The one I truly consider my father didn’t want me to lose whatever respect I still had in this kingdom, plus my foster sister is not yet of age! He created the stewardship mainly to protect her in case some calamity befell him! Besides, if anyone had bothered to ask—a portion of the Hawksthorne crest is upon this emblem!”

  Agnes made a girlish squeal of delight, which he thought was damn creepy coming from her. “Oh, let me take a closer look at it then.”

  Garin took a second to glare at the ceiling and the universe but held out his hand towards her anyways. He soon had to twist slightly to the side and quickly slap his left palm against the table to stop the most precious part of his anatomy from hitting the edge when she violently yanked him closer for a better inspection of the ring. He grumbled, but the old woman didn’t care one bit about his discomfort as she hemmed and hawed over the piece of jewelry.

  Her iron grip remained firm when she asked, “Did our Lord Duke approve of this being your seal? After all, more symbols than the two-headed hawk are upon it.”

  “He said it would be fitting for any children Mattie and I might have,” said Garin through gritted teeth as he debated on forcibly freeing himself.

  There was no need, for Agnes released him with a quiet snort. “That would most certainly be true.”

  “I think we should reveal the inclusion of Roland’s symbol in his ring to counteract some of the whispers of him still planning to steal Mattie away from us,” said Beatrice with a nod. “Though some might not believe the truth, it could sway those who are on the fence more firmly towards his side.”

  Agnes nodded her head. “Every little portion of gained ground helps.”

  Garin ran a hand down his face and groused, “I take it Crosshawk has its own set of politics as well.”

  “Sadly, yes,” said Beatrice wearily. “And tough to navigate most times. Save
for the landholders and a few others, the ones whose opinions seem to carry more weight changes from year to year.”

  Agnes crossed her arms when she sat back in her chair. “Lucky for you, lad, we’re people who are seldom ignored. The fact I saw the emblem for myself will help give credence to your desire to make this place your home.”

  “I truly hope so,” said Garin with a sigh. “Especially since I don’t want to cause Mattie any more problems with these folks.”

  Agnes snorted at that. “She has won back their hearts more than once, so I wouldn’t worry about her. It’s you who will have to learn how to balance being personable enough to convince them you truly want to be a part of this community with keeping your eyes sharp for potential danger.”

  “And try to remember none of these people are serfs,” pleaded Beatrice. “Unlike the story we heard about the groomsman in Nova Forte, threatening someone here with a weapon only leads to bloodshed.”

  “No antagonizing the residents, try to be nice, and watch my back,” said Garin with a growl. “Is that about it?”

  “Besides finally getting down to the business that brought you to our door today and set up a time for us to start making garments for Mattie?” chuckled Agnes. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  Chapter 15

  All the various warnings became shockingly clear while Garin crossed the road as he headed back towards the Pheasant. He was mulling over the conversations of the morning and almost missed the telltale sound of pounding hooves as a man was barreling down the thoroughfare. The great brown steed had made a sharp whiney at the last second—allowing a wide-eyed Garin to jump out of the horse’s path! It hadn’t been the most graceful of landings, considering he had to knock over a few people in the process. A broad-shouldered man with auburn hair let loose a hearty laugh before swiftly turning the animal into the inn’s stable yard.

  Apologizing profusely to everyone in the vicinity as he rose to his feet, Garin kept his growls to himself while he helped more than one person off the ground. Luckily, no one had been hurt by his sudden and urgent need to avoid being trampled. A couple of them even surprisingly told him no apology was necessary; galloping horses were a hazard on these roads from time to time.

  “Especially with that rider traveling them,” grumbled an old codger before he hobbled along.

  Garin moved closer to the far side of the lane and out of everyone’s way. His hardened gaze was on the entranceway to the stable as he stood there wondering which one of the landholder’s sons that had been. The timing had been too much of a coincidence for him to believe it could have been anyone other than Melker or one of his friends.

  By all that’s Holy, a part of me hopes like hell Bran has finished with his errands, he finally thought with a grumble. Because I’m not sure I have enough patience left to deal with an altercation!

  Then his glance fell on a slightly smaller red-haired man who was standing there with his arms crossed and staring at him grimly. “You really shouldn’t be wandering through town by yourself, my lord—at least, not for a few more weeks.”

  “I’m beginning to see that,” grumbled Garin as his suspicions rose. “And who may I ask is giving me such sage advice?”

  The man’s stern expression changed immediately into a friendlier one as he stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Name’s Flynn Bauer, my lord. One of the few men our age not looking to harass the Lord Duke’s new son-in-law.”

  “Call me ‘Garin’,” he said as he shook the man’s hand. Since he recognized the name from his conversation with the Trygonne sisters, he sincerely added, “And it is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And it’s a relief to be able to meet you,” said Flynn with a snort. “Melker almost made that a difficult prospect to say the least.”

  That greatly explained the rider’s laughter as he had passed by. Garin swallowed the growl when he said, “So that maniac on the horse was the one every shopkeeper has been warning me about?”

  “Yes,” said the man with a noise of frustration. “That was the one who had hoped to marry Mattie just so he could rule the roost around here.”

  Garin’s eyebrow rose at that tidbit of information. “No wonder she beat him senseless when that truth came out.”

  “You definitely haven’t heard the story in full,” chuckled Flynn. “But at least you understand your wife’s personality, which gives me hope she made the right choice in the end.”

  Unsure whether or not that was a compliment, Garin still said, “I hope so too.”

  Flynn smiled. “It’s a pity we never had a chance to talk before. That comment alone makes me wonder if we’ve been wrong about you all along.”

  “I’m used to people assuming the worst about me,” said Garin with a sigh.

  “It’s unfortunate that I am on my way home, for I really wouldn’t mind conversing at length with you over a pint of ale and discovering just how badly you’ve been vilified over the years. But let me give you a word of advice, Garin, before I go,” said the man amicably. “Keep confusing them by being a better soul than what they think you are. That will help you in more ways than you could possibly believe.”

  ***

  “There you are!” called Bran who was putting what appeared to be the last sack into the back of the cart. “You’ll be happy to know my Da is giving us one of the backrooms for Mattie’s birthday dinner, absolutely refusing to take any coin for it.”

  “Great,” said Garin, unable to muster up the enthusiasm about the celebration for which he had gotten everyone on board. Though everything else had gone well today, that harrowing moment caused by a man who had once courted Mattie had completely dimmed his feelings about the trip into town.

  “If it weren’t for the fact I found the package while I was loading up, I would’ve thought you had gotten lost,” chuckled Bran. “Are you late because the sisters gave you a hard time while you took care of my grouchy cousin’s need for new clothes?”

  “No,” grumbled Garin as he leaned against the wagon. “I was delayed because I nearly got run over by what appears to be my bitter rival.”

  “Ah, so you’ve met the infamous Melker Krause.”

  “No. But I almost got up close and personal with his horse.”

  “Thrice-damned asshole,” muttered Bran as he came to stand in front of Garin. “Even with what he tried to do to my cousin, too many people are afraid to offend him because of his father.”

  “What is the Krause family known for anyways?”

  “Unfortunately,” growled Bran. “They supply most of the barley for Da’s ale.”

  “Wonderful,” said Garin caustically. “So pissing them off can cause more problems than just them hating me.”

  “Believe me when I say Da tried to find another grower. But they have nurtured their crops for generations like no other, meaning the taste of the brew suffers if we change it up. My only hope is one day Melker embarrasses his family so badly that he’ll be disowned and his brother, Kian, will inherit the land. He’s human and easier to deal with.”

  Garin snorted. “So what manner of creature is this Melker then if not human?”

  “A poisonous snake is the first thought to come to my mind,” whispered Bran as he glared at a spot over Garin’s shoulder. “One that appears to be slithering our way.”

  After taking a second to curse at the universe, Garin turned so he could watch the man approach. Actually, it was three men heading their way. After the incident on the road, the auburn-haired one had to be Melker. Garin was secretly surprised that the man was of a similar height and build as himself, but he doubted this one had a modicum of his strength. Two black-haired men with more wiry frames were staying a pace behind the troublemaker, one on either side. And all wore smirks on their faces as if this was one big joke.

  Bran took a step closer and whispered, “The one with the mole on his nose is Johann Langenberg. The smaller one is Nikolas Dahl.”

  Garin nodded his head and muttered his appreciation for the in
formation without taking his eyes off Melker. Though a jovial expression was plastered on the man’s face, there was a cold calculation deep within his hazel eyes that was all too familiar. Johann reinforced that this could be nothing but trouble with the determined light in his blue ones, while Nikolas’ brown depths overflowed with worry.

  You’re in Menapolin, not Arduenna, Garin strictly reminded himself as his body instinctively tensed up for a fight. A mental precaution he sometimes took because elves could shrug off much stronger blows than the typical human. And with more than one gawker having paused on their way into the Pheasant, he added, Don’t forget what the seamstresses and Flynn told you either!

  Bran then surprised him by growling, “Oh, have you come to apologize to Lord Von Bos for nearly running him down, Krause? If not, then walk your ass right back into that tavern—and take your minions with you!”

  Snide was the kindest description for Melker’s response, “Protecting your future duke already, Brewer?”

  “Since I am no duke, you must be mistaking me for my wife, good sir,” said Garin after he crossed his arms and glared. “Though I find that a difficult feat to accomplish considering she is a hundred times more beautiful than I.”

  While Bran freely laughed at the comment, Johann quickly reached over and smacked the shoulder of Nikolas, who had bowed his head and quietly snickered. When the onlookers also chuckled at Garin’s words, hazel eyes narrowed a second before Melker said, “Be that as it may, you did marry someone who is to be Duchess of Crosshawk one day.”

  “While I remain but a simple lord,” said Garin pointedly. “I don’t recall any of the past Hawksthorne ladies being elevated to equal status. There is no presumption on my part that such a custom would change just because I am a husband.”

  The phrasing of that comment must have hit a sore spot in Melker because the man growled. “It is traditional elsewhere.”

  “And since when has Crosshawk ever been similar to elsewhere!?” demanded Bran, to which many in the crowd made noises of agreement. “That assumption was exactly what had pissed my cousin off!”