THE CARROT & THE KING

[Xarkly 12618]

THE CARROT & THE KING

 

Spoiler

 

 

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“I USED TO BE FAT, YOU KNOW.”

 

At his side, Georg blinked up at Vanhart. “What?” 

 

“BACK WHEN I WAS LITTLE,” Vanhart went on wistfully. Despite his age - despite the stiffness of his limbs and the faded red of his hair - he had never lost the boom in his voice, and he never intended to. “BACK IN SAVOY, WHEN I WAS GROWING UP. HEINRIK AND I USED TO CHASE PEACOCKS, BUT I COULD NEVER CATCH THEM, BECAUSE I WAS ROTUND.” 

 

Despite the mistiness of his eyes, Georg held back a laugh. “Well you, uh … you certainly grew into it, Vanhart. I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

 

That much was true; though he neared his seventy-seventh birthday, Waldenian blood had given Vanhart his broad chest and shoulders, and his staggering height. He would have made quite the intimidating warrior, if not for his chubby cheeks and wide, innocent eyes. Once, Vanhart had begrudged those features - that which made him look less of a mighty warrior - but no longer. “OH, I AM NOT WORRIED!” Georg was almost sent stumbling as Vanhart clapped a hand on the Haeseni man’s back. “I’M JUST REMINISCING. I DO NOT THINK THERE WILL BE A BETTER TIME FOR REMINISCING THAN NOW.” Covering those broad shoulders, his Evil Flying Magic Carpet - Tesch, it was called - streamed from his back like a thick cloak with its eerie owl embroideries. Tesch, though prone to mischief, had never left Vanhart, and so Vanhart would not leave him now.

 

Georg’s smile slowly faded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you’re right.” For a moment, both men were silent as the first of the sun’s rays slowly spread from an orange glow along the eastern horizon, paling the star-studded night sky. The pair of them stood at the bow of a small ship, docked at a nondescript fishing wharf, and the hull creaked noisily as the waves lapped against it and the lax sails flapped ceaselessly in the wind. “Do you miss it, then? Savoy?” 

 

“... NO,” Vanhart answered after a moment. “NO, I SUPPOSE NOT. I DO NOT MISS THE SWELTERING HEAT, OR THE DAMNED SAND. ALL I MISS FROM THERE IS HEINRIK AND RENATA.” Those names, and memories of those childhood days in Savoy, felt like someone else’s life that he had read about in a book long ago. Heinrik … His elder brother, who had instilled in Vanhart his sense of humour, and who had shouldered the burden of duty by moving their House of von Alstreim north to Oren when Savoy had crumbled away. … and Renata. His religious nutcase of a sister, who had instilled in Vanart his own sense of duty, and had lived a long life as a stern nun, though there had been no sweeter victory than when he or Heinrik had been able to tease a smile out of her. Both of them were long dead, now. 

 

“Right,” Georg said faintly. His eyes were tight on the distant glow of sunrise, and the fading moonlight shimmered on the surface of his watery eyes. “Only a heartless man would not miss his family. So …” Vanhart watched as tears began to leak out of Georg’s unblinking eyes, glistening silver as they rolled down his cheeks. “ … that makes me …” 

 

Vanhart cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “IT IS … OKAY, YOUR MAJESTY.” He suppressed the pang of guilt inside him at the idea of Georg’s wife and children waking in a few hours to find that their father - their King - had left without a word. “I WON’T FORGIVE YOU SO EASILY FOR THE PAIN THAT AWAITS YOUR FAMILY.” 

 

Georg turned his weeping eyes to Vanhart. “Then … then why …?” 

 

Vanhart closed his eyes to quash his own grief as he squeezed Georg’s shoulder. “YOU WILL GROW YOUR HEART BACK. THAT IS WHY. I AM SURE OF IT.” 

 

For a long moment, there was silence but for the noise of the coast. When Vanhart opened his eyes, he found Georg staring back towards the encroaching dawn. There was a flatness to his eyes, now, but his cheeks remained tear streaked. “Tell me, then,” he asked softly. “What else do you miss?” 

 

“I MISS REINMAR,” Vanhart answered as the distant shadow of a gull flew through the sky. “I DID NOT EXACTLY TAKE A LIKING TO HAENSE AT FIRST, YOU KNOW, WHEN I WAS SHIPPED OFF NORTH TO BE MARRIED. THE AIR WAS ALWAYS COLD, THE FOOD WAS BLAND, AND EVERYONE WAS SO STERN. TO HIDE AWAY FROM IT ALL, I USED TO JUST WORK THE FIELDS IN REIMAR - I’D HARVEST THE CROPS, TEND THE COWS …” 

 

“I cannot exactly picture you with a scythe.” Georg’s faint smile returned, juxtaposed with his wet eyes. “Do you still dislike Haense, then, Vanhart?” 

 

His Marian breastplate creaked as he shook his head. “NO, MAJESTY. I CANNOT SAY WHEN IT HAPPENED, BUT THERE CAME A MOMENT WHEN I SIMPLY … NO LONGER FELT SO OUT OF PLACE. I KNEW MANY FOLK IN KAROSGRAD, AND ALL ON THE FARM IN REINMAR. I SIRED A HORDE OF CHILDREN, AND I COULD EVEN UNDERSTAND EVERYONE’S ACCENTS.” 

 

“If you could understand Ayrikev and Waldenians alike, then you were a true Haensemen,” Georg drawled through that smile. There came a brief silence again - this time, the caws of gulls carried across the waves - before Georg asked, “Do you miss Johanna?” 

 

Vanhart took a slow breath before he nodded. “ … YES, MAJESTY.” He had never come to love Johanna Barclay - Duchess of Reinmar - when Vanhart had been sent north to marry at his brother’s behest, at least not in the traditional sense, but Johanna had come to mean a great deal to him in a way he could not quite describe. In those early years when he came to Haense, when he felt so terribly alone, Johanna had been like a sole recognisable landmark in a sprawling maze. “FAILING HER THAT DAY … IS MY BIGGEST REGRET.” 

 

Georg even managed a laugh. “I’ve told you many times, Vanhart, that her death was not your fault … but I suppose it will do no good to tell you again, hm? Grief is a funny like that.”

 

“YES,” his own mighty voice was scarce a whisper. “INDEED IT IS.” Unbidden, images of that night - the Inferi Siege on Karosgrad - flashed through Vanhart’s mind. Using his infamous Evil Magic Flying Carpet, he had flown between the frontlines, striking down insects that had breached the Palace and ferrying King Karl to the eastern gate where he duelled the False Carrion. It was not until after the Battle had been won that he learned his wife had died when her watchtower collapsed. “AS A CONSORT, MY DUTY WAS TO PROTECT HER.” 

 

“But you could -”

 

“I KNOW I COULDN’T HAVE DONE ANYTHING.” Vanhart closed his eyes on his own budding tears. “I KNOW THAT, MY KING. BUT I WASN’T EVEN THERE. I - I … I COULDN’T EVEN TRY.” 

 

As he opened his eyes with a shaky breath, he found that the easternmost waves glistened a dark gold as the dawn’s eyes broke through the night. At his side, Georg’s only answer was to reach up to place a hand on Vanhart’s own shoulder. There, the two men - old and spent - stood for what felt like an aeon, listening to the caw of gulls grow louder and the sun climb higher. 

 

“ … BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE, MAJESTY; I AM CONTENT,” Vanhart went on unprompted, and Georg glanced up at him curiously. “I … SERVED YOUR KINGDOM - OUR KINGDOM - WITH PRIDE. I DID BATTLE WITH ORENIANS, ADRIANS, AND MORI. I SAW MY CHILDREN GROW AND BLOSSOM, AND MY BELOVED DAUGHTER IS NOW EVEN A QUEEN. I SAT AT YOUR TABLE, AND STOOD AT YOUR SIDE.” At the thought, he flexed his left hand - stiff and scarred - on the shaft of Tollekar, his six-foot polehammer with its spiked head fashioned in the shape of a carrot. “NOT THAT I DO NOT HAVE REGRETS BEYOND FAILING JOHANNA, OF COURSE. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE MY FAILURE TO SAVE YOUR DAUGHTER - AND MY OWN SQUIRE - FROM HER TREACHERY … NOR WILL I FORGET THE LOOK IN LORD ARTHUR’S FACE WHEN I TOOK HIS SISTER’S HEAD.” 

 

Spoiler

 

 

It was Georg’s turn to squeeze Vanhart’s shoulder in reassurance. “A life lived,” the weathered King said. As the rising sunlight fell on his face, it lit a firm and tense expression, but Vanhart could see the determination in his eyes as his tears subsided. Determination, and optimism. 

 

“A LIFE LIVED,” Vanhart echoed. He understood. 

 

The stars had faded overhead, replaced with a pale blue sky as the sun’s golden rays splayed wider across the water. Gulls circled above the ship, now, and their caws nearly drowned out the sound of the flapping sails or creaking hull. “Well,” Georg said at last as he lowered his hand. “It’s bright enough now to hoist anchor. Shall -” The King cut off as Vanhart abruptly lowered himself to one knee in front of him, gripping Tollekar for balance. “What are you-”

 

“THANK YOU, YOUR MAJESTY,” Vanhart blurted, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his own tears finally forced their way out. “THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME SERVE YOU … THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME MAKE JOHANNA, HEINRIK, AND RENATA PROUD.” It was not until Vanhart heard a laugh - a rich, warm, and sincere laugh - from the man before him that his eyes fluttered open in surprise. “YOUR MAJESTY?” 

 

“Would you stop calling me that, Vanhart?” he said between chortles. “I’m not your King anymore. Now, get up, would you? We’re wasting valuable daylight.” 

 

Vanhart stared back in disbelief as Georg extended a hand. Instead of tears, it was his own laughter that came out as he gripped Georg’s hand, and he stood. “ARE YOU SURE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING?” 

 

“I’m sure!” Georg insisted as he began to march towards the helm of the ship. “You start reeling in the mainsheet!” 

 

“THE, UH, MAINSHEET! YES, RIGHT, OF COURSE.” Dumbfounded, he glanced around at the various ropes coiling around the mast. “WHICH IS …” 

 

“The red one, Vanhart.” 

 

“RIGHT!” 

 

Tesch pulled himself free from Vanhart’s back, and began to chaotically zip around the deck, threatening to trip the two men as they bustled back and forth. The anchor was raised, the helm was fixed southward, and the mainsheel was fixed at half-mast until they were clear of the coast. 

 

As the ship began to cut through the glistening waves and the shore of Aevos grew further away, Vanhart looked up midway through tightening the starboard rigging. There, on the wharf they had left, he saw a figure. A man - tall and broad - with a six-foot polehammer in hand, his knightly mail resplendent in the morning sun, and his chubby head topped with fiery red hair. Vanhart smiled at the spectre of himself, and when he glanced to Georg at the ship’s helm, his greying locks free from any crown, he saw that he too was looking back at the shore, as if seeing someone. 

 

For the King and the Carrot remained ashore, but Georg and Vanhart sailed onwards.

 

 

[teeylin 996]

Spoiler

where are these tears coming from? im crying

 

[EnderMaiashiro 663]

Reserved

[Zaerie 3414]

Johanna Barclay watched from the seven skies as the two sailed. She had been watching for quite some time, over the Carrot. Watch him find new paths for his life to take him, make new connections to fill his heart, surround himself with friends as she always hoped he would. Johanna had always been a rather selfish woman, she had thought, but watching him grow and keep going had made her happy.

 

Perhaps she had wished that she could've left the Duchess on the shore, and Johanna sail alongside them, but all she could do was watch from the skies, hope that the winds would be warm and carry them as far as their hearts desired.

[TaytoTot 1167]

A Waldenian woman sat in her home next to her husband. "Ich miss zhe life ve had back in Reinmar, liebe. Zhe people zhere...vere like nein ozher." She told him as she gently struck the strings of her lyre. "Ich vonder vhere zhey all are nov." @Deets

 

[Olox_ 3380]

The Prince of Merryweather, Heinrich II Lothar, choked at the news. He did not really get the chance to speak with Vanhart ever since they left Almaris "Too soon..." He uttered before falling silent to contemplate life and death

 

Old Alstreim weeps in solitude for his uncle "One day you will carry me on your shoulders once more dear uncle. You are now with our relatives." Friedrich von Alstriem said through his tears

[Fionn__TWG 2616]

So long had passed between the two speaking regularly and now that Wilheim didn't truly know how he felt about his father's departure. Though now he couldn't help but feel that wherever he turned, he faced one of his family members. Those who had the chance to move off. His sister and cousins eastward, his father out at sea, his brother and son out who knows where, and his mother in the Skies. All had gone their own way in the world while they had their choice, something he never had. Though there was no point in dwelling on something that could not be.

 

The soldier bid his father farewell from afar, before returning to his desk. One day he knew they'd meet again, this plain or the next.