Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 58: Goodwill

(The boy is going to be a problem sooner or later. With Astrid gone, we've lost the one means of keeping Brand's compliant. Call me heartless all you want, but the boy is dangerous. We all witnessed what he's capable of, and if the reports are accurate enough, we may have a powder keg on our hands that could blow at any moment.)

-Legate Civis, an excerpt from records taken during the most recent Tribunal.

"Brand? May I come in?"

Regis stood at the entrance to Brand's tent. He could see the boy's silhouette stir, a lamp within illuminating his shape. "I'm unarmed this time," he added quickly, emphasizing with outstretched hands, palms facing up. "Figured we're done with swords for a time."

The joke didn't seem to land with Brand. Regis stepped inside, saw the boy sitting at the foot of his bed, head tilted down in a knowing sulk. Regis had sulked himself a time or too so it was easy to tell. Something large drifted past his nose. At first he thought it was a nasty looking bug before he realized they were bits of metal, bending and contorting into various shapes and sizes. More of them hovered around Brand, as if he controlled them through invisible hands.

"That's incredible," Regis murmured.

Brand looked up and the orbiting metals dropped like stones into a pond, clattering against the ground. "She's gone, isn't she?"

"Aye." Regis nodded. He could tell in the boy's eyes that he'd want nothing less but the truth. At the very least, he could give him that. "Combed half the city practically, but we couldn't find her, lad. She must have used her runes to slip out unnoticed."

He was a tough boy, Regis had to give him that. Brand looked like he was trying his best not to cry. Those fiery eyes of his shimmered like the last, few embers in a forge, but still he kept a brave face. "I can't blame you for trying."

Regis took a wary step towards the boy. Hurt his heart seeing him suffer like that, but you don't walk up to a wolf just because it's injured. There was a certain level of danger he was forced to take into account. Feeling his own sword against his neck like that. A man doesn't walk away alive without learning a lesson or two. It was why his ruby stud was currently in a strongbox tucked away in his tent.

"She must have had a good reason for it," he said, trying to sound reassuring. "She's probably out concocting another scheme against that bastard uncle of yours."

A muscle squirmed along one side of Brand's face. One of the metal instruments shot up, twisting apart so fast Regis barely had a chance to blink before it was reduced to a fine spool of wire.

"I highly doubt it," Brand muttered.

Regis puffed his cheeks. "You've got a lot of anger tucked away, don'tcha?" He plodded over and creaked down into a nearby chair, watching as the boy's brows beetled together. "I had a son much like you. He had a lot of anger wrapped up in his heart as well."

Brand watched him warily from the foot of the bed, but there was an inviting stare in his eyes. A silent desire to hear him continue.

"I was a heltprince in the olden days. A protector of my people. I traveled far and wide, defeating rival jarls and wyrd-touched creatures, but for all the people I saved, I still failed the one person most important to me." Regis swallowed past the lump in his throat. "My own son."

"What was his name?" It was the first time Brand had directly spoken to him. Regis was honored to earn this thimble of trust.

"Bjarni." First to be born. The light of Regis' life. "That was his name."

"How did you fail him?"

"I was gone too much for his liking. And when I was home, I was there for too little. I did not raise him as I should have. I did not teach him how to fish, or to hunt, or to ride. He grew resentful for this." Despite the pain it brought, Regis couldn't help but smile at the memory. "He yelled at me once. Told me how all the other children had their fathers teach them how to be strong. He only had his mother and his baby sister, and she was too weak to do much of anything except squirm and cry. He ordered me to stay." He snorted at the mere thought of it.