"Sing of joy, of joy tonight!" chorused a plethora of drunken voices, rising to the ceiling and then falling from it again in a deafening echo that shook the foundations of the very room. "Sing boldly on this Longest Night! For long ago our God did rise- Up and up to lofty skies!"
The small, square headquarters of the Baron Red Wings was filled to the point of bursting with men, all garbed in their traditional armor; the red surcoats, bronze armor, and maroon capes emblazoned with the Harvey family's Coat of Arms. They were crowded around a table where the only man in the room who was not wearing red sat, smiling brightly as he tipped back a tankard filled with cider, stored from this year's particularly prosperous Harvest Festival. Unlike the other men he was clearly sober, but he sang the loudest out of them all.
"And so we sing of our great love- For our Mighty God in Heaven above! And we conclude with day in sight! We have rejoiced this Longest Night!" The song drew to a close and the men all clapped and hooted, slapping the man at the table on the back.
He smiled at them, leaning back his chair and propping it up on two legs as he slung his heavy black boots up onto the table. He leaned back his head and raised his mug up into the air, proclaiming in his crisp, clear tenor ", A toast, Red Wings! A toast to Baron! May she prosper long under King Thomas!"
All at once The Red Wings raised their own mugs, most of them sloshing with Baron's notorious golden ale, and parroted in voices full of virile pride, "to Baron! May she prosper long!"
"Unfortunately," said the seated man with a small frown, dropping the chair to two legs ", I must take my leave of you now, my fine gentlemen. You see, I am required to go to the Banquet tonight, though I'd much rather stay here with you. Between you and me, you are much more enjoyable than the Court Families."
"Captain, come back before you retire," said one of the Red Wings in a deep voice. “The Red Wings always throw the best parties, and you really know how to relax, sir!"
"Unlike Captain Marx," muttered another from the back of the room, and the Captain laughed, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I will be sure to come and see you again, gentleman, you have my word!" he stood fluidly, placing his gloved hands on the table and peering up at his men from underneath his black headband ", but until then I must bid you adieu."
As he made his way through the press of bodies, disappearing among men who were all several inches taller than he, but none who seemed to carry themselves with the same sort of dignity, the Red Wings cheered him on. It was apparent that the men all adored their young Captain, though he was green, for his ardent pursuit of his Knightly duties as well as the firm yet temperate manor in which he led them. If any man be both mild-mannered and deadly it was their Captain.
At last he broke free of the room and into the night air outside of the castle, only to enter the nearby North Western tower, moving as fast as his legs could carry him. Reaching the top, the young man threw open the bedroom door to find a fine doublet of black silk already laid out on his bed, along with a pair of freshly laundered pants, his good pair of boots, newly shined, a crisp white undershirt, and an ornamental diadem that made him frown.
"You'd best hurry," said a smooth voice from behind the door, causing the Captain to jump.
"Don't sneak around, Kain!" hissed the man, throwing his other clothing onto the floor as he changed into his dress garb. "I always wear my sword and I can't guarantee I won't mistake you for an assassin!"
"As if you could kill me, Cecil," said the one called Kain with a haughty smile, his nearly amber eyes glinting from the darkness.
"I think you underestimate my skills, my friend," Cecil placed the diadem on his head, trying to make it as neat as he possibly could without the use of a mirror, or, even more desirable, a maid. "How do I look? Princely?"
"Passable," Kain smirked, handing Cecil a ball of black fabric. "Don't forget your cloak. If you're not wearing it I think Rosa is likely to kill you."
"Passable is good," Cecil said, ignoring Kain's comment. "Passable says 'I am here out of the goodness of his heart, not because I want the position,' don't you think?"
"Either that or it says 'I'm too lazy and spoiled to care how I impress on my adoptive father, who just happens to be The King of Baron,'" Kain pointed out, and Cecil frowned at him. "What? You asked, and I gave an honest response."
The two were practically jogging now down the corridors of Castle Baron, nearing the Banquet Hall. The two slowed to a walk when they saw torch light ahead, bathing the stone hallways in a sunset orange glow. They were met by a young woman with blonde hair so thick that her hair piece barely restrained it. The look on her face was stern. "What are you two doing, showing up so late? Don't you realize that it's nearly time to begin? I expected better from both of you, especially-!"
"Is now really the time to be arguing?" asked another voice from behind the two young men. "Hello, Lady Farrell, Sir Highwind, Sir Harvey, how are you this evening?"
"Oh, Sir Monroe," Cecil saluted the man, who was a respected member of the Dark Knight Corp. "It's good to see you back in Vangrad. How are your daughters?"
The middle-aged man smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. "Why don't you ask them yourself, Young Sir, they're here today."
"Rosa! Rosa, come here! We need to find our seats!" from the direction of the large doors rushed a tired looking woman in a pink bodice. "Hello Young Master Highwind," the woman curtsied ", and you, too, Harvey." She nodded vaguely
Cecil was expecting much worse, usually she did not acknowledge him at all, but as Sir Monroe was here she was clearly trying to be polite and give a good impression. Though he did not blame her, he had been inadvertently responsible for Rosa's father's death, though he thought there might be a bit more to her coldness than that, at times.
"Mother, be polite, Cecil is-!" Rosa hissed under her breath, but Cecil shook his head.
"Hello, Matron Farrell," Cecil said, bowing low. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay in your presence any longer. I'm afraid his Highness will be expecting me." he turned to Sir Monroe. "I am pleased to see you again, Sir Monroe. Hopefully we will have more time to chat later. “He smiled at Kain and took Rosa's hand, pressing his lips to it chastely. “I’ll talk to you later, Kain, Rosa."
Cecil walked confidently up to the twin doors and was admitted noiselessly by the guardsmen. As soon as he stepped into the vast, torch lit, banquet hall, he was pulled into the nearest crowd of gossiping nobles by Sir Baigan, who hissed into his ear ", where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"
"Was I?" Cecil asked innocently. "Well, I must have lost track of time. I'm sorry, Sir Baigan."
"Don't you 'Sir Baigan' me, you-!"
"Cecil!" bellowed the voice of the King, and Cecil was liberated from Baigan's grasp.
Cecil found himself underneath the arm of the King, whose surcoat was a deep maroon, the Harvey Family Coat of Arms emblazoned nobly upon his breast in stunning gold. "I am sure you all remember Cecil? He was only a whelp when you saw him last, but after a brief two year absence he has grown into a man before my eyes."
The King looked down at him with eyes full of pride and love, and Cecil felt himself automatically shrink from such a gaze. He felt unclean before the splendor of a man so noble and kind.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Cecil said.
The King's smile only widened. "Yes, Cecil is already a Dark Knight, you know! Amazing, he is, a real prodigy!"
"Aye, Cecil," said a friendly voice from beside him. "Yer' kids always grow up too fast. I know how he feels."
Cecil turned to see Cid, smiling at him with kind eyes from beyond the ginger avalanche of his beard. He smiled at Cid in return and was about to respond, but the King beat him to it. "Cid, old friend! I'm so glad you could be here tonight!"
"And miss the celebration?!" Cid gasped. "Yer' Highness, you are talking to a man who loves ale more than anything else in the world, excepting airships and his daughter. And 'sides, how could I turn down the invitation of a king?"
Cecil looked at the King and saw, for the first time, Thomas Harvey, an aging man who had found contentment in his later years. It was a contentment he'd never found in his youth. The King looked at the others surrounding them, including Cid, and told them ", if you don't mind leaving Cecil and myself now. I have some things that I'd like to talk about with him in private. Come along, Cecil, the balcony overlooking Lake Baron is this way."
Cecil tailed the king, stepping out onto the balcony. Two guardsmen in vogue moved to stand watch at the twin doors that opened up to the moon bathed stones. Thomas Harvey shut the two doors behind them securely, removed his diadem, and sat on the stone bench against the wall, patting it as a sign that it was okay for Cecil to sit as well.
"I remember one of the last times I was up here during The Longest Night feast when I was yet a young man. I had several others with me then. Matthew Farrell sat over there," he pointed to the other bench, to their right. "Devon Monroe was at his feet, talking about his intentions to start a family. Richard Highwind was standing behind his sister, Cecilia Harvey, my wife, making sure she didn't do something careless and fall." Thomas closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, smiling tiredly, sadly, as if he longed with all his heart to be able to turn back the clock to those times. "Next to me, where you are now, sat a man that I was very much curious about. His name was Kale Hansen, and he was the strangest man I have ever met."
Cecil watched the king's face intently, looking for signs of what he would say next. Cecil knew of these people, he'd just talked to Devon Monroe, and he had known Sir Richard and Sit Matthew; they had been very much alive until the events two years ago. Of course, everyone knew of Cecilia Harvey, for her story was very much a scandal. She had been married to the king, but he had annulled their marriage and banished her from the kingdom for reasons that no one seemed to know. The last man, however, this Kale Hansen, Cecil had never heard of before. The king opened one eye and peered at Cecil from it. "I very much believe that Kale was your true father, and I have always postured that Cecilia was your mother."
Cecil could not find the words to reply with, and the king seemed to understand, for he closed his eye again and turned his face ever so slightly away. Softly, he continued to speak. "There are not too many men in the world with hair made of moonlight, Cecil, and skin that is as soft and white as snow that will surely begin to fall before the night is over. Kale was one of them, and with those eyes of yours, Cecilia's eyes, I truly believe that you are their son." A stricken look passed over the king's features, even though his eyes were closed. "So, for this reason I wanted to apologize to you. It is because of Cecilia's love for Kale that I annulled our marriage and banished her from Baron. It is my weakness in being unable to accept that the woman I loved was not meant for me that undoubtedly ended their lives and orphaned you. After all, I have no doubt that, had they stayed in Baron, the country would have protected them. Cecilia and Kale alike were both strangely beloved by people everywhere they went."
"I don't remember them ,sir," Cecil said after a long pause in which the king's predicted snowflakes began to fall; it was going to be a very light snow fall, Cecil noted. "So there's no need for you to apologize to me for anything. All I remember is Baron."
"I know that's not true, Cecil," Thomas chided in the way all father's chide their sons. “I know for a fact that you just told me a lie."
Cecil turned his face toward the king's and met his eyes unflinchingly. "I don't know if that's really a memory, sir. It could just be a fantasy, something I fabricated so that I could imagine I had some kind of happy childhood before Baron."
"But it's all you have. You shouldn't dismiss it so lightly."
Cecil closed his eyes and pictured in his mind the face of the man he thought might be his father for one fleeting moment, smiling and laughing at him. Of his mother he had no memory, only the ring that he always had on his person, even if he was not wearing it. "I feel as if he still exists, even if he is not truly alive, or on this plane. And I wonder why he would leave me in the forest to die."
Thomas seemed to think for awhile before he spoke, his voice cutting through the dark, cold night, releasing wispy, white steam into the air. "I don't believe Kale would have abandoned you, Cecil. He may have been one peculiar man, but he was not the sort to ever abandon someone he considered family. Devon, Richard, Matthew and I learned it when he saved us from deadly attack after deadly attack when our airship went down over the Adamant Isle. No, whatever happened to that man, your father, he likely had to be cleaved from you."
"Then, you are saying that he loved me," Cecil near whispered, and to his surprise the king suddenly looked very sad.
Gently, he placed a hand on Cecil's shoulder and stared him in the eyes ", Cecil, I know how The Dark Sword crushed you, but you still must realize that there are those in your life who love you dearly." Grimly, he added ", what happened in Petuin was not your fault. Those people loved you as well, or they would have not gone to save you. Darias adored you, Cecil, and couldn't wait until the day you joined the military ranks; he wanted to serve with you. Leia Pollendina thought of you as a son, and Matthew and Richard couldn't have loved you more if they had wanted to, even if Richard was reluctant to show it." Smiling, he moved his hand to the top of Cecil's head. "And Rosa and Kain love you now, as does Lord Monroe, and Cid, and myself. You are not as alone as you think you are, my son."
"Father-" Cecil began, but stopped himself when he realized what he had said. He had sworn he would never call Lord King Thomas Harvey that, that he would try not to think of the man before him in such a way, but it seemed that it was inevitable.
Thomas smiled at Cecil and patted his head affectionately, picking his diadem up off of the stone bench and standing. "I shall consider that your Longest Night gift to me, as I know you always forget to get gifts." Cecil began to stutter, but the King's robust laughter silenced him. "Let us go, Cecil, and partake in the festivities. I fear my old bones grow cold," he sighed wistfully. "Oh, to be young again..."
Cecil dutifully followed the King, his father in all but blood and title, into the banquet hall, eager to be with those who loved him, and whom he loved in return.
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