The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) by Andrew Walbrown (the lemonade war series txt) 📗

voice as harsh as his appearance. “Forgive my intrusion.” He then went to one knee and bowed his head, the glint of iron showing under his robe. The man was wearing chainmail, with a sword dangling at his hip.

Amantius instinctively retreated a step once he realized the man was armed. Uncertainty and fear spiked through his heart; he had nothing to defend himself with other than his fists, and he had never been much of a pugilist. But this man did not appear to be their enemy, for he called his mother by her first name as though they were old acquaintances, and even referred to her as “Lady Pelecia.” While Amantius was recovering from his confusion and gathering some semblance of courage, he heard his mother lean forward on the sofa and let out a defeated sigh. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, Pelecia stopped him by raising her hand.

“Master Marinius,” she said softly. “No need for apologies, these are troubling times. You may stand, at our age kneeling is not our friend. Take a seat, too, if you wish.” She gestured towards a chair on the opposite side of the room.

You may stand. Amantius thought those words sounded surprisingly regal, as though his mother was the Queen. To Amantius’ recollection, she had never spoken with such authority; even when scolding him during his childhood she still adopted a more balanced tone. He looked to Ulam, to see if his foster-brother had noticed the change in disposition. But Ulam’s face was as hard as stone, his expression utterly indiscernible. In his gray eyes there was an unspoken threat lingering, the gravity of his glare a warning to the newcomer to proceed with caution.

As Marinius sat down Pelecia asked Amantius to grab their guest a drink, which he did reluctantly. As he poured the glass of wine in the adjacent room he heard some of Pelecia and Marinius’ conversation, though he thought they were speaking in a secret language. He could make out full sentences at times, none of which made sense to him, however. When he returned he offered Marinius the wine, retreating to Ulam’s side immediately afterward.

“So that’s the lad, eh?” Marinius said as his calculating eyes sized up Amantius. For the first time in his life, he felt as though someone could peer directly into his very soul.

“Yes, Marinius, that is my son,” Pelecia replied with a glow in her eyes, though there was sadness too. Amantius attributed that to the King’s death, though he was beginning to wonder if more was happening without his knowledge. A sickening feeling hit his stomach as his thoughts ran amuck within the confines of his imagination.

“Does he know his weapons?” Marinius asked.

“Who would have taught him?” Pelecia replied, rather sternly. “Do you think the palace would have been the best place for him to be?”

What are they talking about? Palace? Weapons? Amantius thought. Now he was really confused and anxious. He knew something important was happening, or about to happen, but there were still too many pieces of the puzzle missing.

“Who are you?” Amantius blurted out. “And why are you incognito, armed, in our house, talking about my knowledge of weapons? I feel since I am the subject of this discussion then I am entitled to know!”

Marinius gave Pelecia a quick, searching look, as though nonverbally asking permission to continue. When she nodded, he stood and approached Amantius, the leather sheath of his sword thudding on his thigh.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Marinius said before turning to Pelecia again. “I am impressed that you were able to keep it a secret for…how many years? How old is he?”

“I turned eighteen last month,” Amantius stuttered, his voice failing him. If he had been asked by anyone else, he might have sounded more of a man, but in front of Marinius, he felt he was still a child.

“For eighteen, almost nineteen years then.” Marinius continued, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “That’s impressive.” He returned to his chair but did not sit down.

What is impressive? I’m utterly confused.

“I am afraid I have kept a great secret from you, my child,” Pelecia said, sitting up, “about your father.”

“My father?” Amantius said. “What about him? He was a sailor from a faraway land who promised you the world and then disappeared. You have told me this many times.”

Pelecia took a deep breath, her mouth a tight line. “I am sorry, Amantius, but that was all a lie.”

“A lie?” Amantius felt a twinge of betrayal in his gut, taken aback by his mother’s revelation. While he figured this was not the first time she had lied to him, he was still a little shocked she had hidden the truth about his father for his whole life. Why would she lie to me about who my father is?

Pelecia sighed and looked out a nearby window, a worried expression written on her face. She remained like that for a few minutes, appearing as though she was unearthing memories like ancient artifacts buried deep underground. Amantius thought the moment would last forever, every second causing his impatience to grow tenfold. He had always wanted to know more about the man who had sired him, and now it seemed as though he was about to have some questions answered.

“I do not like talking about my past, about my roots,” Pelecia said, “but now I feel I must, because, for you to understand, you will need some background.”

“I was born in a fishing village outside of Accaria, on the other side of Mount Meganthus, named Toron.” Pelecia started, still looking out the window, “It was small, five hundred people at the most. I lived in a hut with my mother, my father having died in stormy seas before my ninth birthday. Without him, my mother and I were forced to learn his trade. Every day we went to the docks and fished, hoping to catch enough for the both of us. Most of the time we had enough, but there