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Chapter 14: Reunions
🕑 Added 2025-05-30 14:04:41 +0000 UTCSoren’s mother looked a little gaunt, like she’d lost weight in his absence, but the strength with which she clung to him as she cried her eyes out belied her age.
As Soren had been a late addition to the family, the Lady Dionne was already in her sixties, streaks of grey adorning the otherwise black hair beneath his nose, the smell oh so familiar.
“I’m sorry for making you worry, Mom,” he whispered, tearing up himself.
She shook her head, taking a moment to calm down her breathing before she could respond. “You have nothing to be sorry about, not anymore. Your father and I were so worried, but we never lost hope. I knew you’d come back.”
Finally, she drew back and smiled up at him, being about half a head shorter. “What about... what about Rylan?”
“He’s fine,” Soren said, smiling at the obvious worry in her voice. And Rylan thought Soren’s family didn’t care. Honestly. “You know, it was actually good for us, this little adventure. We came out stronger individually, but I like to think as friends as well.”
“Well, I’m sure you have quite the tale to tell,” she said, her eyes worrying over his form as she absentmindedly straightened his doublet, her fingers trailing over some of the more egregious stains as if she were planning to clean them herself. “At least you look well fed...”
Soren hesitated for a moment, eyeing the way her cheeks seemed to pull into her face. “Well, I could go for a snack,” he said, even though he was really too hopped up on excitement to be hungry. “Care to join me in the lounge for some refreshments? We could invite Grandma and surprise her.”
He offered his arm, which his mother graciously took, shaking her head fondly as they started making their way to the main building. “Great Spirits. She might have a heart attack if you suddenly appeared before her.”
Soren frowned. “Perhaps you oughtn’t say that with such a gleeful tone, Mother; people might misinterpret.”
“Oh, don’t worry dear. I love your grandmother to pieces.”
“Good.”
“But she remains my mother-in-law, you know?”
“Mom!”
Beatrice Thistlethorn did not, in fact, have a heart attack upon seeing her long-lost grandson, as she clearly had been informed of his return beforehand. Nor did she cry, though her eyes were suspiciously misty as she pulled him into a hug.
“Don’t ever do that to us again, you hear me?” she commanded upon releasing him. But the corners of her mouth curved upward, and her eyes were warm.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied dutifully.
She released a breath, shaking her head as she primly sat down in her chair and held up a hand to Tilda. Her grey-haired personal maid handed her a glass of brandy with shaky fingers, happy tears streaming down her face.
To his surprise, Chef Zelim—Zahra’s father—came along with the delivery of the requested refreshments, to personally announce the menu for that evening’s celebratory feast.
“We’ll be starting off with a light redgill salad with slices of pear marinated in honey and thyme,” the chef said in his customary gruff voice. “After that, we’ll have a starter of stuffed mushrooms from the oven, grilled seal ribs and stuffed eggplant for our mains, and finally, cherry pie for dessert.”
“You spoil me, sir,” Soren said shaking his head, as the chef had pretty much just listed all of Soren’s favourite dishes.
“Welcome back, milord,” the chef replied. And for just a moment, Soren thought he caught a glimpse of the man’s smile beneath his beard. Then the chef turned around and left.
They engaged in some polite small talk, wherein his grandmother asked about Rylan as well, and brought Soren up to date with some of the latest developments amongst their peers. Soren was naturally saving the grand tale of his adventure for dinner, when his father and sister would be back.
It felt both bizarre and familiar at the same time, especially with his mother sitting next to him, who couldn’t seem to stop staring at him or crying.
At least he got her to eat some of the platter of sliced fruits and cheeses the kitchen had delivered.
Eventually, Soren grew restless, and excused himself, joking—but not really—that he hadn’t had a proper bath in over a season.
But not before insisting that the word be spread that his father and sister should under no circumstances be informed of his arrival before he got to see them.
He’d already missed his grandmother’s initial reaction, and he would be damned if he missed another.
His grandmother graciously agreed and excused him, amusement in her sharp eyes.
On his way to his personal chambers, he came across Grumpy Gordo.
The old guard looked haggard, his livery dishevelled, but his smile was wide as he congratulated Soren on his safe return.
“It hasn’t been easy,” he admitted when Soren asked if he was all right for the second time. “Seeing your family go through all that... They never blamed me, you know? Said Rylan is a determined, resourceful lad and a Quinthar, and there was really no stopping him. But I still blamed myself, you know? I was supposed to guard ’im, after all. I never thought... To hear you both made it out alive is the best news I ever got.”
“Eh, it’s fog under the bow,” Soren said with a shrug. “It’s not like you let him go deliberately!”
“Hah! No, no... of course not. Milord.”
Soren stared at him for a moment.
Gordo met his gaze, his eyes just a tad too wide, a slight tremor in his smile.
“Well,” Soren said slowly. “Even if you had let him go deliberately, after everything Rylan’s told me about what his life here was like, I honestly couldn’t blame you. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
The old man sagged in on himself a little. “Hah... I appreciate that, milord, I really do. Hypathetically, o’ course.”
Soren didn’t correct him, smiling and patting him on the shoulder as he passed by. “Think nothing of it, Gordo.”
The man had served his family loyally for many, many years, and had earned every penny of his upcoming pension. And quite frankly, keeping his mouth shut about his suspicion was the least he could do, after all the pranks they’d pulled on the poor man.
The frogs on his desk had been one thing, but herding mistsheep into his personal chambers really had gone too far.
His father and sister returned shortly before dinner. Soren waited in his room for them to finish freshening up with great outward patience. Finally, Zahra came to get him with a conspiratorial grin.
Soren pushed open the double doors to the dining room where his family was gathered with an appropriate amount of drama. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving!”
Their shocked faces were everything he’d hoped for.
His father, usually a stoic man, stumbled out of his chair like he was looking at a ghost. Then he was moving.
The force of his hug triggered Soren’s Mana Shell and made his bones creak, but he hugged back just as fiercely.
“Thank Auris,” Bryce Thistlethorn managed to bring out, his voice cracking at the edges. “I can’t believe it!”
Soren laughed. “Surprise!”
The moment his father released him, Helen appeared seemingly out of nowhere, picked him up like he weighed nothing, then proceeded to actually swing him around like she had when he was little. “Little brooo!” she yelled in his ear. “Where the fog have you been?!”
“Put me down, you madwoman!” he laughed.
Over her shoulder, Soren caught a glimpse of his grandmother shaking her head at the impropriety. Of course, she’d long given up on correcting Helen.
Soren’s significantly older sister finally put him down again, and started scanning his body for wounds much like his mother had. Soren took the opportunity to study her in return.
Helen had never been the most meticulous about her appearance, but he was still shocked to find that her blonde roots were showing, not to mention the prominent dark circles under her eyes. She took it harder than I expected...
“You knew,” Bryce Thistlethorn gently accused his wife.
“Sorry dear,” she replied with a blinding smile, and new tears in her eyes. “He wanted to surprise you.”
“Soren,” Helen suddenly started, her eyes wide and her grip on Soren’s shoulders tightening. “Where’s Rylan? Is he all right, is he here too?!”
“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Soren said, chuckling as he gently peeled off her fingers. “He’s... somewhere safe. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll start at the beginning, hmm? I believe our starter is ready to be served.”
“...and then, when we’d gotten as close to Dreadmaw as I could take us, Rylan activated the Runegear he’d previously given her as a safety measure, and Recalled the captain right out of Dreadmaw’s stomach!”
Soren had to make some changes during the telling to protect Rylan’s secrets, but his captive audience didn’t seem to mind. They were eating it up.
Meanwhile, with all the talking he’d been doing, he’d barely had a bite of his main course! Thankfully, he was basically at the end now.
“We brought her back up to the deck, and from that point on it was pretty smooth sailing,” he continued. “We made it back to Cliffport, where the captain chartered a vessel to swing by Thornholm so she could report back to the Thorns, and I hitched a ride and hopped off here!”
Finally finished, he rewarded himself with some juicy stuffed eggplant. It had grown kind of cold, but he still almost moaned at the rich flavours.
“That is quite the tale, son,” his father intoned, shaking his head. “I’d be hard pressed to believe it, if you weren’t sitting right here in front of me.”
“I still can’t believe Rylan went into a Champion’s Dungeon,” Helen said, her eyes a little manic and her own main course largely untouched. “What was he thinking?!”
Soren shrugged. “From what he said, he felt responsible for the malfunction of the dehumidifier that was keeping us safe. Which... he was, in a way, but there was definitely blame with me and the captain for not being honest about having found it.”
He hadn’t told them about Maris yet, keeping things deliberately vague.
There were at least four things he’d decided not to tell his family about: that Rylan had an actual Spiritgear, that he’d received a blessing from Maris, that he had an unknown Affinity, and that he’d received a letter from his possible father.
Those were all things Rylan had confided to him in private, and he wouldn’t betray his friend’s trust again.
Seriously though, that boy has too many secrets.
Finally, of course, there was no way he was telling them Rylan’s whereabouts.
He would tell them about Maris’ existence, and the fact that he’d given Rylan his Pearl of Inspiration, he’d decided. But those topics were too sensitive for the dining room.
“Can’t say I’m too surprised about Rylan doing something like that,” Bryce Thistlethorn remarked with a chuckle. “He always was a stubborn kid.”
“Terribly inconvenient that the girl ended up down there with you as well, though,” his grandmother observed. “If only...”
Soren levelled her with a look. “If only what, she’d perished in the crash? I wouldn’t be here if she had.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Soren,” Beatrice Thistlethorn replied with a single raised brow. “I’m only worried about what the Talons might learn from her. There have been... disconcerting rumours going around about their activities as of late.”
Soren frowned. “Speaking of the Talons...”
“But let’s not discuss such dreary matters right now,” his grandmother continued, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. “We’re here to celebrate.”
Taking the hint, Soren nodded and eased back into his chair. “What about you guys? What have you been up to in my absence?”
After dinner, they retired to the parlour, where Countess Beatrice Thistlethorn officially sent their staff away—even her own personal maidservant—telling them to take the night off.
“So,” Soren started, once Tilda had left the room. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, but, for some time now, I have been under the impression that Vidric Talon showed up here... for Rylan.”
Beatrice raised a brow. “Oh? And what gave you that impression?”
Soren opened his mouth to reply, but to his surprise, he was cut off by Helen huffing out a breath.
“Oh come on,” she said. “Are we still doing this? Haven’t we learned our lesson by now?”
Beatrice studied her. “Things didn’t work out the way we intended,” she stated calmly. “It happens. That doesn’t mean it was a bad plan. I, at the very least, couldn’t come up with anything better.”
“So you say,” Helen replied icily. “But I’m starting to wonder if perhaps you simply couldn’t come up with anything that suited you better.”
Soren didn’t reply, simply watching their interplay. Like his grandmother always said, one learns by listening, not by talking.
Helen held their grandmother locked in a staring match for a moment longer, until Bryce finally sighed and spoke up. “Helen, honey, let’s not play the blame game anymore, please. Soren is back, and Rylan is safe. It’s time to move on.”
Helen rolled her eyes, but broke eye contact and slumped back in her chair. “Fine. But let’s tell Soren already.”
Beatrice waved a hand. “If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. It seems he has his suspicions anyway.”
“Tell me what?” Soren asked, his eyes darting back and forth between them.
Helen straightened up and locked her gaze onto his. “Everything.”
Author's note:
Don't worry: I know you're all anxious to return to Rylan's POV, so that's exactly what we're doing next chapter. ^^
(Yes, I'm evil like that. Sorry not sorry. :p)
Thanks for reading! :)
Comments
H.C. Mills
😂
Jake Johnson
You deserve wet socks until we get bac to soren's POV then
