The sun filters through a cracked window, lighting up dust particles dancing in the air. A man sleeps on his side, sprawled messily across a thin mattress. Medium-tall, red hair tousled like an untamed fire. He snores loudly.
A faint voice from outside the room.
"Varis…"
The voice sounded closer than before, sharper than before.
"Varis!"
Varis jolts awake with a groan, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the light like it personally offended him.
"...What now…?" Varis says half-asleep
Varis groggily swings his legs over the edge of the bed, muttering curses under his breath as he stretches his back with a few satisfying cracks.
Over the next ten minutes, Varis lazily pumps water into a cracked basin, splashing his face with a grunt
"Agh… another day…"
Varis brushes his teeth shortly after, his toothbrush being a worn-out bristle twig, eyes half-shut, still trying to oppose the influence of sleep.
Varis throws on a faded tunic, pulling leather straps across his chest. He sniffed his boots, made a face, but put them on anyway. Grabbing his stachel and slinging it over his shoulder, heading to the door with a sigh like he's already tired of the day.
Varis trudges down a narrow hallway, yawning as he passes faded tapestries and creaky wooden doors. He stops at the first door to his left and slowly pushes it open.
Varis notices a mess of blankets. A small form is buried underneath them.
"Oroson, time to wake up, little guy." Varis says expectantly, yet softly, like he's done this every morning.
A muffled groan. The blanket wiggles.
"Five more minutes…" Oroson says half-asleep, mirroring his father.
"You said that yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that." Varis says while shaking his head.
Varis walks over and yanks the blanket off with a grin.
Varis then exits the room and enters the door across the hall. The doors creak. The room is noticeably neater than Orson's room, almost methodical. Varis's second-oldest son, Cassian, half-awake, already sitting up with both eyes open, but it's clear sleep has its influence upon Cassian.
"You're late, Father." Cassian says
"Don't start sounding like your mother." Varis says while rubbing his eye
Cassian smirks slightly, but swings his legs off the bed obediently.
Varis leaves the room and goes down the hallway, and looks at the door to the left. He enters. The room felt different from Oroson's and Cassian's. Sparse. A wooden training sword leans against the wall.
"Alaric."
No response.
"Alaric!"
Alaric, the oldest of the three, opens one eye, evidently annoyed.
"I was up training late."
"And I'll smack you across the head if you don't get moving." Varis says half-jokingly, half-strict.
Varis begins to travel to the kitchen, catching a whiff of his wife's cooking.
The stone kitchen is humble but lived in. A small hearth glows in the corner. The table is set with simple plates, and the smell of cooked eggs, smoked meat, and warm bread fills the air.
Oroson rushes in first, still half-dressed, grabbing bread with his hands. Cassian follows, ever the composed, sitting neatly, and Alaric walks in last, quiet, nodding to his mother respectfully.
"Hands washed, Oroson."
"But it's bread!"
"Bread still counts. Go." Amabel says without turning around, flipping something in the pan
Oroson groans but listens.
Varis finally entered, arms folded like a tired soldier, sniffing the air with exaggerated disapproval.
"Hmph. Smells like someone's burning breakfast again."
Amabel doesn't look at him. She simply gestures behind without turning.
"And smells like someone still hasn't chopped firewood like I asked."
The boys smirk. Orson giggles with a mouthful of food. Cassian hides a small smile. Alaric just quietly eats.
Varis walks over, kisses Amabel on the cheek, then steals a piece of sausage off the pan.
"Thief." Amabel says while smiling
"Hungry." Varis says while shrugging and smirking
They then share a look. Familiar. Soft. Worn-in love.
The family eats. Amabel occasionally refills plates. Varis leans back in his chair, stretching with a groan. He eyes each of his sons across the table.
"So…training camp. How's it going?"
The boys glance at each other. Oroson immediately looks down at his plate. Cassian pauses, choosing his words. Alaric keeps eating like he doesn't care.
"It's fine…" Oroson mutters sheepishly
Varis raises an eyebrow
"Fine' is what you say when something isn't fine."
"He's working hard, Father." Cassian chimes in, gently
"I just… I'm not as fast. Or strong." Oroson explains
Varis leans forward, his voice softening.
"You're twelve, Oroson. You're not supposed to be strong yet. You've got heart. That's more than most. Trust me, I've been around long enough to know."
Amabel, behind them, gives Oroson a supportive look.
"And you?" Varis says to Cassian, without looking, still eating his food.
"I'm doing well. I've been paired with the older trainees more."
"They say you're smart. Focused. That's good. Just don't get in your head." Varis says, trying to support his middle-oldest.
Then Varis turns to Alaric, who finally meets his father's gaze.
"And you, mister silent warrior?" Varis says to his eldest
"I win. I win every match." Alaric says while eating his food, without looking up.
"Confidence or pride?" Varis says smirkingly
"Truth."
The room is quiet for a moment. Amabel sets down a cup of tea in front of Varis, cutting the tension.
"They're all doing fine. Better than we ever did at their age."
Varis takes a sip, eyes still on his sons.
"Just remember… Strength without purpose is wasted. And a sword swung without thought cuts a lot more than just your enemies."
The boys nod. Oroson still fidgets, but listens. Cassian thinks on it. Alaric, hard to read, silently absorbs the statement.
The family finishes eating. The quiet calm of morning is quickly replaced by a mother's rising urgency.
"Varis. You're still sitting? You said you'd take them to training camp. You're going to be late… again." Amabel says with her hands on her hips, watching the sun rise through the window.
"Damn, I just sat down. Can't a man relax and digest without any type of nagging?" Varis says while groaning, slowly standing
"They don't train digestion, they train swords. Up!"
The boys chuckle. Alaric shows no emotion, Cassian smiles respectfully, and Oroson lets out a laugh.
"Mom's gonna make you spar if you don't move."
"Not again! Last time I nearly lost a tooth." Varis responds to Oroson with mock fear.
Amabel grabs Varis's cloak, tosses it to him.
"Move your legs, old man. You're not raising merchants."
"Old man?" Varis says baffled
"I'll have you know-"
"You'll have to get them there on time." Amabel says firmly
Varis sighs dramatically and swings the cloak over his shoulder, throwing the boys a look of feigned suffering.
"Alright, Alright. Let's go, boys, I'm tired of your mother's voice…"
Varis claps his hands once. The boys hop up, grabbing their gear. Wooden training swords, cloaks, and water flasks.
Cassian was used to his younger brother's forgetfulness
"Oroson, your boots…" Cassian says without looking at him, walking out the door
Oroson was already halfway out the door, barefoot
"Oh crap, how do I keep forgetting?"
Amabel follows them to the door, brushing Oroson's hair as he passes. She lingers for a moment as they walk off.
"What a long way we've come, Varis." Amabel says in her head, smiling softly.