Harbinger Of Doom: The Attainer

8. A Hard Task

That night, Lores kept tossing about on his mattress, ruffling the sheet as if it was preventing him from sleeping. At some point, he would fix his gaze on the thatched ceiling, almost counting the tiny straws used in weaving it.

A lit oil lamp burned slowly on the table. It became a routine to sleep with lit lamps after Vicksen once made a fuss about being insomnious in the absence of light. Zyno thought it was because Vicksen was used to sleeping with light some time ago in the palace. Meanwhile to Lores, Vicksen was just scared of the dark, and the complaint was a reasonable excuse to blanket his flaw. He possessed the characteristics of a frail man but thankfully, he knows combat.

The room could have been quiet, allowing Lores to think properly. But then the low but energetic snore coming from where Vicksen was laying disrupted his reasoning. He struggled to view the man who was reposed like a log of wood at the other end of the room. But sadly, a mere look wouldn't stop him from snoring. On hearing the snore, one could mistake Vicksen for a drunk old geezer. Lores sighed quietly. Why can't he be like his mate, Zyno, who was sleeping quietly?

The adjacent room lodged the ladies of the house and it was as quiet as a snowflake, making Lores to have the fanciful thoughts of becoming a lady at nighttime, sneaking into the ladies' domain only to return before the break of dawn in the version of a man. This ridiculous thought sprung to his mind time and time again, but he ended up rebuking himself and blaming it all on Vicksen anyway.

The day dawned crisp and clear. Rays of the morning light seeped through the glaze window, forcing their way through Lores' eyes. He opened them and scanned the whole room as if searching for the ghost responsible for waking him up. The room was empty with silence, excluding the outward chatter of men and women who were working on their farms. He sluggishly got up, rubbed his bleary eyes and rearranged his messy fringe in a careless manner. Owing to how long and thick his hair was, he had some parts of it braided.

He met his mum outside watering some plants with a wooden pail. She stood erect and adjusted the scarf around her neck when she saw him.

"You're awake." A radiant smile flickered on her face. Lores returned a half smile for he was about to break her soul. Last night, he thought for a long time that sleep took him by surprise. He had already collaborated with Joanne and Vicksen upon the mission of finding his father. The latter admitted that he had long been thinking about making the move. All Lores needed to do was to notify his mum and convincing her before finally travelling to the outside world.

"Mum let me help you with that." The scenario of her collapsing with the pail upon hearing his words was too much for him to imagine.

"Don't worry. I can do it myself. Join Joanne and Caro in the field." She smiled, thinking her son was just being filial. She couched to continue her work. Now that she didn't suspect that her child had a hidden agenda, Lores decided to spill the beans in the best possible way that wouldn't be too strong for her to take.

"I'm moving out." She stood to face him with a worried look on her face.

"Isn't it too early to go hunting?" She asked, clearly misinterpreting the supposed meaning of the question. Lores tilted his head back as a wave of confusion attacked him. He scratched his chin with an index finger, trying to think up another method. Funny enough, she was right. Apart from the farmland and the woods, where else was he suppose to go?

"Eh... I'm going to Liz. I want to find dad." He offloaded his thought without daring to risk a glimpse at his mother's visage. As a substitute, he peered at the wooden pail she was holding as if it was laced with eye-catching jewels.

"You don't know what you're saying. Only the gods know if your dad is still alive." She couched again, bathing the plants in peace with the hope that it was one of his unserious jokes.