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✣✣✣✣✣✣ EPISODE TWO ✣✣✣✣✣

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✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣ "Every Arca" ✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣✣

Aelric rubbed his eyes and blinked. What had he just been thinking about?

He felt lightheaded as he looked around. He was in the woods. When did that happen? He couldn't remember. He felt that should scare him, but he was strangely calm despite the headache tapping on his temples. Why had he come to the woods? He had a vague memory of being upset about something. That must have been the reason. He always came to the woods when he was upset.

The sun had already set, and he found that he was not far from the world tree. He treaded in its direction, still wondering what had brought him there.

The world tree was massive, a completely different species than the other trees in the forest. He stepped up to the base of the trunk and put his hand on its ancient grooves. There was something oddly comforting about the touch. Legend had it the world trees had existed even before the time of elves. There were no elves anymore, and so that would have been a long time ago indeed. He knew the tree was over a thousand feet tall.

He remembered getting into an argument with Brint over the matter when they were children. Aelric's father had told him a thousand feet, and Brint's father had told Brint one thousand two hundred feet. It really wasn't much of a difference, but the two six-year-olds had argued all day about it.

Then Brint had said, "Let's climb to the top one day and measure it. Then we'll know who was right."

Aelric had no idea how they would measure it by climbing, but at the time it sounded like a great idea and settled the matter. Soon after that, they began climbing trees, and the treehouse was born. Each year they promised they'd climb the world tree the next year. Brant was the best hunter in the Five Villages and in possession of a scaling spell, it was said. The tree was just too high, and no farmer was going to risk a fall.

It wasn't death that everyone was afraid of. It was injury. The parents of the two boys made them swear to put the idea out of their heads. But even then, they'd figured their first oath to each other had precedence. Even after Brint had fallen out of the treehouse one summer and twisted his ankle, the boys still talked about it.

As they got older, Aelric didn't think they would ever make the climb. There was just too much danger, and he couldn't imagine getting hurt and not being able to help his parents on the farm for a season. And if the injury was permanent... that was just unimaginable. But he had been happy to have a secret pact with Brint.

The last time they talked about it was just before he started going with Feyna.

"What do you think the view is like up there?" Brint had asked.

"I don’t know," Aelric had said. "Must be amazing. You could probably see all of Five Villages."

"I bet you could see the whole prefecture. Maybe even the whole province."

"The whole province," Aelric said in awe. That would be an amazing sight.

"We'll do it one day, won't we?"

Aelric grinned. "We sure will."

It was the last time they had talked like that. As friends.

So that's why I came out here, he realized. It was because of Brint and the boys that morning. Aelric thought he had gotten used to the bullying now, but it must have made him upset and he always went to the woods when he was upset.

He still felt oddly calm, but it was good to realize what had brought him out here. Elder Sharp had always said the mind was more mysterious than the cosmos.

The forest was almost dark now, and he needed to get home. His parents would be coming home from the lake soon after dusk, and they'd wonder why he hadn't joined them. He gave one final glance at the ancient tree and then hurried home.

Despite the darkness of the woods, Aelric made his way home within a chant. He'd grown up in those woods after all. As his family's cabin came into view, he was surprised to see smoke curling from the chimney. He’d expected his parents to still be at the feast at the lake with the rest of the village or at least just arriving as he did. He smelled the scent of his mother’s famous potato soup as he pushed open the creaking door. His father was drying his hands beside the wash pan when he entered.

“Aelric, where’ve you been? Dinner’s been ready for a chant.”

His father’s voice was light as he smiled up at Aelric. He was tall, but not quite as tall as his son. A man who had been handsome in his youth, but the sun and wind and the worries of being a farmer had left deep lines across his face, making him look a decade older than he was. His white hair was now streaked with grey and his skin was a dark shade of olive-brown. His broad shoulders still carried strength, but a limp in his right leg kept his movements stiff and measured.

His mother was at the table, cutting a ripe tomato in silence. Unlike his father, she had aged well, and Aelric often caught the men in the village sneaking glances in her direction. Her long hair held in a single braid was blue-white, only slightly streaked with grey, and her skin was the color of clay. Many people said she could have passed for a Crownbled if not for her weak arcumen. The rare times Aelric went with her to the town, people still spoke to her with deference when they did not know her caste. She glanced briefly in Aelric’s direction when he’d come in, but had said nothing, her gaze dropping back to her task.

Aelric frowned, finding her behavior strange, and he wondered if his parents had been rowing just before he arrived. They rarely had a terse word for each other, but he knew they kept their disagreements out of his earshot.

“I thought you’d be at the lake for Brant’s barbecue," Aelric said to his parents.

“Was there a barbeque?” his father asked.

“Brint told me this morning that everyone was going to the lake,” Aelric said, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. “He said Brant caught a doe and was cooking it for the village.”

His father’s expression bore a frown, but then it softened and he chuckled quietly. “Ah, well, that must have happened after we spoke this morning. These things happen.”

“But he didn’t send anyone to tell us?” Aelric’s voice grew sharp. “He just forgot about us?”

“Don’t take it to heart, son,” his father said gently. “We don’t have a messaging shell like the others, and Brant’s got a lot on his mule. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.” He smiled again, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, we’ve got a fine soup right here. No need to worry about missing out.”

Aelric’s hands clenched at his sides and his jaw tightened. “It’s not about the food. They left us out like they always do.”

His father’s smile faded slightly, but his tone remained calm. “Life’s too short to get upset over these things, Aelric. We’re together and Lord Heleric watches over us. That’s what matters.”

It was what his father always said during such times, but it only made Aelric angrier. “Doesn’t it ever bother you the way they treat us?”

His father shrugged, then nodded. “Sometimes. But if I were to get upset at these little things each and every time, I’d not have enough time to be happy for the good things in my life. Come, sit, and let us eat. Your mother made an excellent soup, and we have fresh tomatoes from the garden for the bread.”

The portions were meager, just enough to stave off hunger. Aelric stared at his bowl, the thin broth pooling around the sparse chunks of potato and turnip. His parents each took smaller portions, as they always did, and pushed the larger bowl toward him.

“Eat up, son,” his father said with a smile. “You need your strength.”

Guilt twisted in Aelric’s stomach. He hadn’t forgotten the arcana he’d wasted earlier that day, showing off to no one but himself. That arcana could have gone toward their debts, staving off the tax collector even a day, even an hour would have been more worthwhile. And now, here he was, taking his parent's portions of the soup.

Something felt strange about that thought, but the memory of wasting his arcana made him feel sick. Setting his spoon down, he looked up at his father. “I… I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice low.

His father frowned but nodded for him to continue. Even his mother’s hands tightened on her spoon, though she kept her eyes on the bowl in front of her.

“I wasted my arcana today,” Aelric confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I used my chop spell on a log. It wasn’t necessary, and… I… I don’t even know why I did it.” He shook his head, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m sorry. It was stupid and selfish, and I… I wasn’t thinking.”

For a moment, his father was silent. Then, slowly, he set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair.

“Aelric,” he said quietly, disappointment weighing heavy in his tone. “Do you know how much we need that arcana? Especially now, with the harvest so thin? Every arca counts.”

“I know,” Aelric said, his head bowed. “I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

His father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I… I just don’t understand, son. It's not like you to waste your arcana. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Aelric said. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… I…” he faltered, unable to find the words. He didn't want to complain again about Brant and the other boys. There was nothing his parents could do but worry for him. “I’m sorry.”

His father shook his head slowly, looking to his wife. “And your mother? She’d usually have more to say about this than I do.”

Aelric’s mother still didn’t look up. “It’s fine,” she said softly, almost too softly to hear. “We… we’ll manage.”

His father raised a brow, clearly puzzled by her response. When she didn’t elaborate, he looked as if he wanted to ask her something but thought better of it. He let out another sigh and pushed his chair back. “Finish your soup,” he said, his tone weary. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow on the way to the market."

Aelric looked up, surprised and hopeful. "I can still go with you?"

"Who else is going to help me load and unload the wagon?" His father cracked a grin. "And in any case, a handsome young man will certainly help with the selling."

After finishing dinner, Aelric helped his mother with the dishes. She was unusually quiet, and Aelric wondered again if his parents had gotten into an argument before he came home. His father seemed fine, but his father always seemed fine and rarely let his troubles show.

Aelric said goodnight to his parents, then went into his room. It was a small space, just barely wide enough to fit his width, his cot, and a small cabinet. He took off his tunic and hung it. Then he realized what had been troubling earlier during dinner. He eyed the small payment plate on top of his cabinet where he put his daily savings every night. Then he pressed his finger on the end and pressed out his arcana onto the tab. A quick snap of blue light flowed out of his finger.

He stared out in shock at what he had done. Hadn't he already spent his arcana earlier in the day?

But despite what he knew, there were two arcas worth of solidified arcana in a small shining square chit on the tab. He stared at it in wonder.