Kewin returned to his home village on the back of a peddler’s wagon. Mizech was a small village with only 5 hours of carriage travel from Vilriver if one took the well-trodden roads. Kewin had woken up early on his day off and managed to buy his journey with a handful of coins. He planned to sleep at his family home and make the trip back tomorrow. It would be right on time before the classes resumed while giving him enough time to check on his father. The Academy did not really care what the Pupils did on their days off, so long that they brought no shame to the institution. Still, halfway through his trip, Kewin had changed from his colourful uniform to darker drabs that made him less stand out.

Not that it mattered. By his stature and appearance, Kewin Udachur wasn’t one to go unnoticed and this was, in his humble opinion, the tragedy of his life.

The peddler had left hours before the break of dawn, his wagon full of products to buy from sailors at Vilriver and to be sold at a higher price more inland. Now they arrived a bit before noon and rolled into the marketplace that was already in full swing. Kewin jumped down from the cart, thanked the peddler and made his way through the crowd amidst shouting of prices and animated haggling. Only four months had passed since Kewin had left his village and thus he had an easy time finding his way.

Truth be told, it was difficult to get lost in Mizech. The village was homed of a small community of less than a hundred inhabitants who lived from what they farmed and raised and traded whatever they couldn’t produce themselves. In Mizech, everyone knew everyone else and nothing remained secret very long. As he was making his way out of the marketplace, Kewin could feel the eyes following him.

One would think that after sixteen years spent here, one would get used to it. It was never the case. You never got used to being the odd one, the one who was different from the other.

Kewin hurried his pace as he walked in front of the One Church, the central building of the village. Not far from there he finally reached his home. The place wasn’t impressive in any sense of the word – it was far closer to a shack than anything else and it stood in the shadows of the One Church. Kewin glanced around him then crossed the threshold and entered his home.

Immediately, he was hit by how small, dirty and dusty it was. The curtains on the only two windows were drawn and the light could only be entered through the door. The air felt heavy and wet and carried an unpleasant scent.

Kewin sighed. He wasn’t surprised to find his home in this state. After his mother had passed away, it had only gotten worse. His father had never been one to take care of a house and since he was unemployed, they lacked the coins to hire someone to do it for them. As he stepped in, Kewin told himself that it could be worse. The rest of the village did help when they could. For a long time, he and his father had survived only thanks to their generosity.

Kewin threw the curtains open and let light flood the interior. He eyed the shattered glass on the floor, the stains and the mould that was growing into the wooden planks. Grabbing a discarded piece of cloth resting on a stool, Kewin kneeled and began scrubbing.

“Who’s there?”

The rough voice came from a man standing on the doorstep against the light. He stepped in with an uneven gait and Kewin saw the familiar bearded face of his father.

“Kewin? Good Grace, boy! You’re back!”

Kewin got up just in time to be caught in a crushing hug from his father. They were about the same size and Kewin hugged him back.

“Grace, Father,” he mumbled against the man’s shoulder.

“What happened, kid? Aren’t you supposed to be at the Academy?”

“You didn’t respond to my letters so I worried something had happened.”

His father took a step back to have a better look at his boy. In return, Kewin observed his father. He noticed his stained clothes, his unkempt beard and the dark spot below his eyes.

“Aye, I was getting around writing back, I swear. You shouldn’t have bothered, Kewin! Here, here, let’s have a seat and you tell me how you are doing!”

Kewin took a seat on a stool while his father sat down on the only couch present. He dragged with him a footrest on which he dragged his left foot. It landed with a familiar sound and when his father pulled back his trouser, it revealed where the limb had been cut off and replaced with a wooden prosthesis. His father began distractedly messaging the place where the wood met flesh while smiling at his son.

“So, tell me: how you’re doing? Which Openings did you get into?”

Kewin felt a pricking on his neck. This had been the subject of the first letter he had sent to his father, right after he had passed the examination.

“I’m of the 1 st Opening, Father.”

“1 st ? Good, good! We could have hoped for more, but 1 st is good as well! That’s my boy! Your Ma would be proud, Kewin! How’s life in there? I never went to Vilriver!”

Kewin began describing his life in the Academy, the Library, the Dorms, and the Canteens, but also the classes he had, the Pupils he met, and the food he ate. As time passed, he felt more comfortable and soon he relaxed where he sat, enjoying the conversation with his father. The man laughed when he heard Kewin describing how Isyd had taken down Olav Kazkan and his friends.

“That friend of yours has guts! I’ll drink to that!”

His father hunched sideways and picked up an already opened cider bottle and took a long swill. Kewin watched him do, a sad expression on his face. After a while indoors, he had identified the smell that permeated everything in the house; it was the odour of mead and rancid alcohol. His suspicion had then been confirmed by seeing rows upon rows of empty glass bottles behind the couch.

“Father…” Kewin began hesitantly. “The White Priestesses advised against drinking beer… Should I fetch you a glass of water perhaps?”

His father gave him a dark look. For the first time since coming back, Kewin noticed that the white of his eyes had turned visibly yellow.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t need your water!”

“But—”

“It’s fine, I said! Stop your nagging, Kewin!”

The shout made Kewin flinch where he sat. His father did not seem to notice as he peered down the bottle to see how much of his drink was left. He spat on the floor and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“I hear enough of those bloody women, I don’t need you to start too, boy! And plus, what do they know, uh? Bloody witches, the lot of them! Giving orders to fellows like me… they should know their place, that’s what I say!”

His attention focused on his son. “Those damn women…” he slurred. “Do you also have them in this school of yours, boy?”

“I do, Father,” Kewin muttered.

“Watch out, then! Less they throw a spell on you or something… Can’t trust them… Can’t trust anyone, those days… You hear me, boy? You watch out!”

“I will, Father.”

“Good!” he took another swill. “They think I’ve forgotten what they did to my Brothers out there… I still remember when those damn witches not healing Ugo! Those bastards, the Matiznan scums, they blew a hole right through him but I carried him on my back to the camp, you know… I thought… I thought they’ll help him! But those witches didn’t care a bit! ‘Can’t be saved’, they said, ‘nothing can be done for him’… What a load of shit…”

Kewin could recognize when his father was taken by one of his moods. A bottle in hand, his mind wandered to the time when he still served in the Wings as a foot soldier. His ramblings were usually laced with bile and bitterness until they eventually turned unintelligible as his mind was dulled by the alcohol.

“You remember what I told you about those witches, Kewin? How they cut my leg?”

“I remember, Father.”

“Criminals! I should have killed them! What they did to me! To save my life? Bah, they are all liars… they just didn’t want to heal the likes of me! Easier to just chop a guy off! Priestesses, my ass! Bunch of criminals, the lot of them. You cannot trust them, Kewin! You hear me, boy? You cannot!”

“But… Aunt Olyvia is a White Priestess as well…”

His father almost stood up from where he sat, eyes throwing lightning. “She’s a damn witch! You do not speak to her! She’ll poison your mind as she did with your mother!”

Kewin flinched back, but his father did not get up. He held the armrest of the chair in a strong grip as if he was losing his sense of balance. His face was twisted in a grimace and spit covered his lower lips and his shaggy beard.

“She turned your mother against me, this goddamn witch! All this shit about being an Apteyk…! I don’t want to hear her name said in this house, you hear me boy? And I don’t want to hear anything more about their witchcraft!”

“It wasn’t witchcraft, Father! Mother studied the Healing Arts. She was a good Apteyk!”

“I said—”

“I want to do the same Father, I want to study the Healing Arts. I want to become an Apteyk like her!”

“ENOUGH!”

The empty bottle flew across the room and grazed Kewin on the forehead as he ducked before shattering on the floor. Kewin fell from the stool he sat on and winced in pain. When he got back up, he saw that his father had done the same. His eyes were wide and haggard and his chest was raising laboriously.

“I… I didn’t mean… You…” the man stammered.

He suddenly doubled over as if suddenly struck with intense pain. Kewin rushed to him just as his father was about to collapse.

“Father! Father! Are you okay?”

His father sat back down on the sofa with difficulty while clutching his left side. He watched his son with tired and teary eyes.

“Kewin… you can’t…” his father barely managed, breathless.

“It’s okay, Father… you must rest now…”

His father slowly closed his eyes and Kewin delicately laid him on the sofa and readjusted his posture to make him more comfortable. He found a thick plaid rolled under the sofa and he covered his father with it. Immediately, his respiration seemed calmer, though his face had not lost its dangerous shade.

Kewin’s head was throbbing in pain, but he didn’t pay it any attention. Silently and diligently, he went around the room and tidied up whatever he could get his hands on. He then gathered the empty bottles and threw a last glance behind him before heading out.

With a heavy step, Kewin approached the entrance of the One Church. It had been built with limestone and stood out from anything else in the village. The One Church was the centre of worship of God and the architecture reflected it by its main building, its high columns and its hexagonal layout. Kewin remembered spending quite a lot of time here with the Red and White Priestesses. The former were charged with the holy duty of education while the latter took care of the sick and needy. Kewin’s mother, in her profession of Apteyk, had helped quite a lot around here and people had travelled from other nearby villages to be healed by her hands.

Kewin entered the Church with no problem as it was always open to anyone. He saluted the few trainees he saw running around in their duty. There were seven high stained-glass windows, one for each of the colours of the rainbow. As light poured through them, it lit the interior of the church with an iridescent glow.

“Kewin?”

Kewin turned to the soft voice and saw a woman simply dressed in the ecclesiastic white robe of her order. She was tall and of strong stature, with her hair cut short. In her hands, she held a water bowl and used bandages.

“The day Graces you, Aunt Olyvia,” Kewin said with a bow of the head.

The woman’s eyes went wide, then she put down what she held in a rush and caught the young man in a fierce hug.

“You’re back! Grace, I’m so glad to see you! Are you okay? Is everything all right? Are you hurt? Why are you back? Did something happen?”

“I’m all right, Aunty, I’m all right,” Kewin said softly with a smile, trying to untangle himself from her grip. “I came back to check on Father since he didn’t reply to my letters…”

His aunt took a step back to have a better look at her nephew. She noticed his left brow, bleeding where the bottle had grazed him.

“Grace, you’re hurt! What happened?” she froze then her face turned from worried to furious. “It’s him, isn’t it? The blasted man! I’ll—”

“Wait, wait, aunty, it was an accident!”

“It is always an accident with your father! But today is the last straw. I was silent too long in respect of your mother’s wishes. But my sister is no longer with us and I put the blame on him!”

His aunt seemed ready to rush back to his house right at his instant and deal with his father. Kewin grabbed her sleeve.

“Please, Aunt. Do not hurt him. It was my fault, I provoked him. It was an accident. Please.”

His pleading voice seemed to affect his aunt and her shoulders slouched and she sighed deeply.

“My father… he is getting sicker, isn’t he?” Kewin asked her.

“Yes, he is. His state doesn’t seem to be improving. I’m sorry, Kewin, but there’s little I can do. Your father refuses even the little help we offer him.”

Kewin closed his eyes briefly, feeling the full weight of the news crushing on his shoulders. When he opened them back, they were wet with withheld tears. His aunt hugged him and cupped his cheek like she used to do when he was still a wee boy.

“I’m so sorry, Kewin… I’ll pray to God for a blessing every day, but… I do not see what is there more for us to do. For you to do. You cannot stay here, Kewin. Your place is at the Academy. That’s what your mother would have wanted.”

“But my father…”

“I’ll take care of your father, Kewin. I promise you.”

Kewin sighed then nodded. His hand went into the inside of his coat and fished 5 Silvers. He handed them to her aunt. She shied back at first, but Kewin insisted and put them firmly in her palm.

“This is to buy the necessary medicine. Please, Aunt. If I cannot stay, let me do this at least. Please…”

His voice cracked. His aunt hugged him once more.

“You are a good kid, Kewin… I promise I’ll take care of him. I’ll write to you, I promise. Go now. A travelling troupe is leaving for Vilriver today, you can travel with them. May the Grace be with you…”

Kewin gave her a final goodbye, then left the Church, the heart heavy. He didn’t bother going to his house. He knew that it would make leaving even harder. There would be no point. Instead, he immediately headed to the main plaza. As his aunt had said, a troupe of gleemen and entertainers was about to leave. Kewin threw on his uniform coat and approached who looked like the leader and arranged to accompany them. The leader gladly accepted him and even refused the coins Kewin presented him, arguing that more company was always a gift when one’s travelling.

Night had already fallen when Kewin arrived back in Vilriver. It turns out that the troupe had taken its sweet time, enjoying various pauses in the way and letting the pulling mules walk at their pace. Kewin had not minded the delay. It had given him time to recollect himself. By the time he passed the Academy gates, his eyes had dried and he felt relatively back to normal.

He was arranging his belongings in the Common Dorms and about to have a late supper when a Senior Pupil approached him.

“Kewin Udachur?” the young man asked formally.

“Yes, it is me, Senior.”

“We need you to follow us.”

Kewin’s hesitation only lasted half a second. He had glimpsed at his chest and saw that the Pupil was of the 4 th Opening, and thus outranked Kewin several times over. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Then again, his heart skipped a beat when he stepped out of the Dorms and saw two more Seniors awaiting him.

One of them, a lanky guy with glasses gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry! We are members of the White Flowers! It’s about your application in our Ring.”

Next to him, another man stepped forward and extended his hand. “My name is Niklas Fisser, 8 th Year and 6 th Opening. I’m the Second-In-Command of the White Flowers. I wanted to personally congratulate you for joining our rank, Kewin Udachur! I propose we talk more about it around a drink, what do you say?”

Kewin watched the extended hand, mind racing. He had applied to the White Flowers early in the semester. The White Flowers was known as the Ring specialized in the Healing Arts; they trained the most brilliant Apteyk of the Commonwealth.

Kewin took a step back. “I… I am s-sorry… I can’t join the Ring…”

Niklas Fisser gave him an incredulous look. “What… why?”

“I’m sorry but I… I have changed my mind… I don’t want to be an Apteyk anymore. I cannot…”

“You recognize the opportunity we offer you, Kewin Udachur, do you not?”

“I know… Truly, I apologize for wasting your time. Thank you, Seniors, for considering me. Again, I am sorry…”

Unable to withstand their gaze on him any longer, Kewin turned to leave. Doing so he bumped into the first Senior that had come for him. The young man did not move to let him pass. Kewin took a hesitant look at the three Seniors that were now surrounding him. He was taller than all of them by at least a head, but he immediately felt trapped.

Niklas Fisser stepped in his direction and, seeing the look on his face, Kewin fought the urge to shrink back.

“I see that we are at an impasse… Despite what you have said, Kewin Udachur, I will give you time to carefully think about your choice. Do not take a hurried decision that you may regret down the line. The White Flowers can offer many things during your stay in the Academy and a long time after. In exchange, your addition to our ranks will be truly beneficial to our Ring. We have followed you attentively and we believe that there are many things you can bring to us…”

Kewin was about to say something, but Niklas rose his hand to silence him.

“No, do not say anything! As I said, we are waiting for you to carefully think about your decision. We will wait for your answer a week from now, hoping it to be positive. The White Flowers do not take refusal kindly. Think wisely, Kewin Udachur.”

Loss for words, Kewin could only nod and only then did the Seniors step back to let him through. He walked back to his bunk, heart pounding.

This had not been what he’d expected. Kewin had taken his decision on his way back to Vilriver. He had chosen to follow his father’s demands and not pursue the Healing Arts. However, the White Flowers had not accepted his refusal. Kewin wasn’t sure what made them so insistent, but it made him fret.

Kewin didn’t want to seek any trouble, but somehow the trouble had sought him instead.