Insignia: Scars of Lumierna

Ten

With his cheek pressing against the back of his hand, Stirling daydreams out of the second-floor window while his parents finish preparing supper. He is going to do it; he is going to fulfill his dreams. His brows furrow. What comes after he learns to fly? He can't just get in line next to Amiria. He drops his head, tapping his forehead on the windowsill. He has something special; his bond is natural. There is no military training. There is no selective bloodline to keep only the fittest personnel in the Winged Cavalry. He lifts his head, keeping his chin resting on the wood letting the view of the mountains take over. What is he other than a Stirling Bakere, a simple commoner? What can he do as a baker besides keep this a secret? Then there's Ignis. Where did he come from?

"Stirling," his mother says, trying to get his attention away from the window for the first time since he had come home that day.

He turns around to acknowledge her.

"As your mother, I should have asked this a long time ago, but where is it you go all day? I'm worried that I'm not being a good mother if I'm too busy to even know where my own son goes off to almost every day."

"I just made some friends with some farmer kids. They've got a plot of land to play on and some good climbing trees," Stirling lies.

"I'm glad that you have made friends, but that seems a bit far," Jannell retorts.

"It doesn't take me long if I walk fast. It's not much further than the flower lady's. Sometimes I hitch a ride on the back of a cart to shorten my time. I don't really get along with any of the kids in our market area. They all seem more interested in their family trade and that's it," he adds in defense.

His father, Giles, peers up from the cheese and bread he is slicing on the kitchen table and declares, "As it should be. You too should start learning the bakery business. It's a respectable trade. You might be all play right now, but one day you're going to have to step up to the podium and take over this place like I did when my parents grew old. And if you don't want to go out of business, you are going to have to know what you are doing. Know what will make you stand out from the rest of the bakeries other than location and convenience."

Stirling rolls his eyes as he gets up from the window. He swings his leg over the table's bench and sits down begrudgingly. He bites his tongue as usual. He's learned to never say anything back to his father because no matter what he says, it will lead his father into lecturing him longer about the importance of your place in society and the bakery business.

Giles picks up a chunk of barley bread and a slab of cheese and sets it on the table in front of Stirling. "Now eat your supper with no more talk of these so-called friends of yours, and Jannell, this is your doing. Showing him it's okay to travel that far for playtime by bringing him to that herbalist's hut all the time."

Janell disregards her husband's accusatory banter by reaching over and tousling Stirling's curls. She lowers herself on the bench next to him and when Giles turns to check the coals on the open-top stove keeping the house warm.

She whispers in Stirling's ear, "Having friends is good. I'll make sure you can go play while you're still young."

She sits up straight and smiles down at him. He returns the smile graciously but quickly hides it when his father turns back around and joins them at the table.