Aphrodite's Acolyte

by J. E. Spatafore

  “Fidel, do not be upset. Your papa saved me from my papa. Be happy for me. My sister was,” Yardana broke into tears and sobbed heavily, “not as fortunate. She died a few months ago when she refused papa his desires.”

  Methvas, recognizing the flash of his son's green orbs, stood up before Fidel and grabbed his shoulders, placing himself between the elf and the young child.

  “I know this is hard to hear! But do not act, Fidel. It is my duty to solve such problems of this kingdom. Your path leads in a different direction. Know that Yardana,” Methvas turned his head to look at the youthful child, who was looking up with a face covered in tears but wearing a new expression of fear at the angered Fidel's appearance. “Know that Yardana is in good hands now. Her father will pay for his crimes once the people surrounding him are safe. Justice will be swift, but politics are necessary given his standing in the township.”

  Fidel stared at Yardana for a few moments, then realized he was scaring her with his look. He switched his gaze to his father's eyes. “Our own village....” Fidel convulsed as the fury boiled over into uncontrollable sorrow.

  Methvas pulled Fidel in. “Don't blame yourself. Yardana is safe. Justice will be found. But you are not the redeemer of said justice.”

  Fidel allowed himself a few sobs then pulled away from Methvas. He walked over to Yardana and bent down to one knee.

  “My fair Yardana, you are in good hands with my father. His light will burn away your own father's darkness. If you ever find a day where you do not feel the same, send for me in the land of Mirater. I will serve as your white knight, your protector.”

  Yardana's face instantly changed from fear to one of pure joy. Her smile grew ear to ear as she gave Fidel one of the tightest hugs he had ever felt. “See, Methvas!” Yardana exclaimed with a voice so excited, soft, and absolute. “Fidel is my friend!”

  Methvas stood over the two smiling, a slight tear coming to his eye as he witnessed a peace settle among the tormented. After a few moments, Fidel rose and bade Yardana farewell. They both smiled at each other as Methvas led Fidel out of the room.

  “Do you see, Fidel, things are not always as they seem?”

  Fidel nodded and glanced back at Yardana's door as the two made their way to the staircase to meet Lord Ias. His heart was happy with the result of Yardana's rescue. His mind on the other hand was considering how he could exact revenge for the tormented child.

  As they made their way up the staircase, Fidel contemplated the knowledge he had gained over the past day. The first of which was that not everything was as it seemed when it came to politics and the lordship. The second of which was that his birth parents may still be alive and he had a journey to carry out. After a few more flights of stairs, the duo came to a large wooden door, adorned with several gems and inscriptions.

  Methvas rapped hard on the door and a strong and burly voice called out from the other side. “Who's there?” Methvas announced his name and the door swung open, with no evidence of any living being opening the heavy door. “You may enter,” stated the man in the chamber beyond.

  Methvas entered first and directed Fidel to enter, pointing out for him to take position just behind and to the right of himself.

  Lord Ias stood slightly over six feet tall and sported a build of a seasoned warrior. Fidel met the man's sea-blue eyes and couldn't help but feel like a child meeting a stranger. The man had a charisma about him that demanded obedience. The red-haired warrior moved toward Fidel and extended his arm, offering an open hand.

  “You must be Fidel?” The man said, more of a proclamation than a question. “I am Lord Ias.”

  Fidel returned the handshake. “Yes, I am Fidel Austempes, born in Puldechra of elven ancestry and raised by the humans of three towns of Mirater.”

  Lord Ias stared at Fidel with a little disbelief. “Well met, Mr. Austempes. May I call you Fidel?”

  Fidel released the lord's hand. “Yes Sir. And how may I refer to you?”

  Lord Ias took a step back, sizing up Fidel. “You may call me Ias. You may call me Lord. You can call me Mr. Firebrand. Any one of those names suit me well and ring true.”

  Fidel's lips turned into a slight smile, understanding the meeting's formality had been defined as casual.

  Methvas watched as the two gentlemen of Harlow's Hovel started to engage in some minor discussion over their agenda. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his son and the politeness of his initial announcement. He thought of how well his son would do in a political structure, a natural gift of diplomatic ability.

  “Methvas!” Lord Ias called out, stirring Methvas from his thoughts.

  “Yes Sir?” he replied.

  “Fidel and I would like to get to know each other for a while. How does my afternoon look?”

  Methvas smiled wide. “Sir, I made sure your schedule was clear all day. I know my son's lifelong journey so far is rather intriguing and I know you enjoy the tales of the many people of Harlow's Hovel.”

  Ias returned Methvas' smile. “Very good Methvas. Thank you for this opportunity to learn about one of our most interesting citizens. I especially liked your tale of how he was about to destroy a score of my guardsmen.” Ias winked at Methvas. Fidel's father grinned widely. Fidel's jaw dropped open, staring at his father in disbelief. Fidel felt his heart sink into his stomach. He started to wonder how much Ias knew of the situation and just how close his soldiers came to meeting the God of the Underworld.

  “You can relax, Fidel.” Lord Ias said. “I know the story of how you almost unleashed a fiery death upon my soldiers. But I do not hold you at fault. Our methods for extracting Yardana from her would-be destiny were rather...” Ias had trouble finding the word that best fit the sentence.

  Methvas interjected, “Rudimentary? Barbaric? Tactless? Take your pick.”

  Lord Ias chuckled. “Yes, all three actually. Methvas has always been good with words, especially when he finds me speechless!” Lord Ias gave a hearty laugh. “I found the story last night quite humorous. You would have won that battle. Unfortunately, it would have put me in a position to have your head. Your father saved your life and the lives of a score of my militia. I truly hope you appreciate his actions.” Ias' blue eyes met Fidel's own emerald-like orbs.

  “I do,” Fidel said in an embarrassed tone. “My father is a very good man. He has treated me as his own for the past twenty-five years and I appreciate everything he has done.” Fidel nodded to his father and Methvas returned in kind.

  Methvas chimed in. “Fidel, tell Ias of your forthcoming return to your homeland. He will be very interested in your journey and he may have a request for you. For now, I will take my leave as I have some errands to run. I trust you will notify me when you are ready to depart?” Fidel and Ias both nodded and Methvas exited the room.

  Fidel and Ias talked for hours. Fidel told Ias all about his three adoptive parents over the past seventy-five years, all of which have been human. He told of his first parents and how they taught him skills in martial combat with several weapons, the staff being his weapon of choice. How his first parents consisted of his blacksmith father and shopkeeper mother. He told of his second parents, who taught him skills in farming and thieving. He elaborated on how the thieving went against his moral fiber but was what his second mother wanted. He then told of Methvas and Shartivus. Methvas, being a grand wizard, taught him twenty plus years of magical arts and Shar kept his mind sharp in the practices of negotiation.

  The conversation stayed very lighthearted, Fidel did the majority of the talking, with Ias asking for fill in details as they went. The time flew by, into the late afternoon judging by the shadows created by the dwindling sunlight. All the while, their mugs remained full and food seemed to appear out of nowhere. The workers of the keep kept up with the heavily engaged duo's consumption.

  Methvas entered the room just as Ias was giving a hardy laugh to one of Fidel's stories. They both looked up at Methvas, who signaled the time to them.

  “
Oh my, Fidel, I hope I did not ruin your departure chances today. I apologize for keeping you so long,” Ias said.

  “I have really enjoyed the telling of my tales.” Fidel replied with a smile. “I do not tell them very often. I should leave if I am to start my journey by nightfall.”

  Methvas sighed heavily, not wanting to face the departure of his only son. “You are always welcome to stay longer,” Methvas stated. Fidel smiled at his father and got up from his seat.

  “Well, Ias, your company was very enjoyable.” Fidel said. “I thank you for your hospitality." Ias stood up and shook Fidel's hand.

  “The pleasure was all mine Fidel. You are welcome here anytime you are in town. Feel free to drop by and share your many adventures, recent or distant past does not matter.” Fidel smiled and turned to head out.

  Methvas reached out his hand and looked at Ias. “Sir, did you not have a request of Fidel?”

  Ias' smile turned to a serious look. “You are correct, Methvas. I forgot there was some actual business to attend to.” Ias then looked at Fidel. “Would you be interested in delivering a message to King Fineal of Puldechra for me? It is not urgent, but I would like him to receive it when you arrive in his kingdom.”

  Fidel thought for a moment, considering the request. “Not at all Lord Ias, I will gladly deliver the message. I assume this is to remain sealed and for the king's eyes only?”

  Ias smiled wide. “You, my friend, are very well versed in the nature of politics. I could almost swear you were a governor of one of my own provinces!” Lord Ias slapped Fidel on the back as a sign of appreciation. Ias walked over to his desk and pulled out a sealed scroll, then handed it to Fidel. Fidel placed the scroll in his pocket, without giving it a single glance.

  “Not even curious of the scroll's content?” Ias asked with a curious grin.

  “No Sir. This scroll is not for my eyes. I have learned lessons from my second mother that curiosity is, how should I say it? A deadly disease?”

  Ias smiled ear to ear and looked at Methvas who was also beaming with pride. “I am telling you Methvas, your son is simply extraordinary. You should be very proud. Go ahead and have him pick any weapon and set of armor from the armory on your way out. His company has been so welcome, the value of such trinkets barely touches on the gift of companionship he has provided me this day.”

  Lord Ias then looked at Fidel. “And you, Fidel, have yourself a safe and enjoyable journey to your homeland. I hope you find the answers you seek.” Fidel and Ias shook hands once again, Fidel thanking Ias for his offer. Methvas and Fidel headed out the door toward the armory.

  Upon entering the armory, Fidel went straight for the metal staff he had originally admired on arrival. While heavy, he believed he could wield it better after his trip. He picked the staff up and noticed it felt very different, about as light as a feather. He twirled it a few times and looked at Methvas, who only nodded in agreement. Fidel then went over to the rows of armor. Chain mails, plate mails, leathers, a whole gamut of armor available, any of which he could choose. He looked at his father, looking for some advice on which armor to pick.

  Methvas strolled over. “Yes, I could not decide which one you would pick either. You're normally a robe person like your father.” Methvas pointed to himself with pride. “Unlike the staff, I had no idea which one of these to enchant with the leviora enchantment I know.”

  Fidel glanced up from the fine plate mail armor he was examining, understanding the implication that it was his father who made the staff lighter. “Do you think you can enchant a full plate mail armor, making it as light as a feather?”

  Methvas looked over the armor and nodded. “Yes, I can enchant a full suit of armor such as this. But is it what you would like? While it would be lighter, it would still be noisy.”

  Fidel thought about the notion. “What would you recommend for my travels? I'm surely going to face dangers and I lack experience with actual combat.”

  Methvas scratched his thick bearded chin. “I'm thinking you should go with leather with a fortis enchantment and wear it under your robe. Strong as plate mail, flexible, and minimal noise. Perfect for a wizard and fighter both, such as yourself.” Fidel agreed, grabbed a set of leather armor, and handed it to his father.

  Methvas took the leather armor to a mannequin in the corner of the room. He rubbed his hands up and down the armor and chanted every inch of the way. The leather appeared to meld to Methvas' every touch, swirling and snapping back with every chant. When his enchantment was complete, he motioned for Fidel to inspect the work.

  Fidel touched the leather and didn't notice much of a difference. He then took his metal staff and tapped it against the leather. The distinctive sound of metal on metal made Fidel smile widely. “You never did teach me how to enchant things. Simply fascinating!”

  Methvas smiled and motioned to the dress curtains in the opposite corner of the room. Fidel went behind the curtain and put the armor on. As he stepped out from behind the curtain, he felt a solid blow from a sword hit him square in the chest. Methvas dropped the sword in his hand, laughing hard at the shocked expression on Fidel's face. Fidel stared at his father in disbelief, watching Methvas laugh so hard that he couldn't retain his footing. Fidel reached down where the sword rang true on his new set of armor and didn't feel one defect from the blow.

  “Well, I guess that tested it!” Fidel said. “Not a scratch on the armor and all I felt was a little of the impact!” Fidel reached down and offered his hand to his father, who had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

  “Well Son,” Methvas took Fidel's hand and rose to his feet, “somebody had to test my skills and I surely did not want to receive the blow!"

  Fidel chuckled and gave his father a quick hug. “Thank you, Father, for everything you have done. I could never had hoped for a finer set of adventuring attire.” Fidel put his robe over his new set of armor, grabbed his new staff, and they both headed toward the exit of the keep. As they descended the staircase, Methvas handed Fidel a small hip pack for his journey. Fidel inspected the pack and, once again, thanked his father.

  “Put your staff in it Fidel. You'll be surprised with what that little pack can hold. You won't need your rucksack.”

  Fidel opened the pack and placed one end of the staff inside. As he pushed the staff in, it felt like the pack had a life of its own and was thirsty, pulling the staff slowly inside. The entire staff fit into the pack with ease. Fidel saw a replica of his staff at the bottom of the pack, no larger than the size of a toothpick.

  “Wow! How much can fit in here? A whole castle perhaps?” Fidel questioned.

  Methvas chuckled at the notion. “Well, I do know you can fit a horse in these things, but that is as far as I have tried. Getting the horse out of the bag was quite an awkward situation.” Fidel and Methvas shared a laugh at the thought as Fidel retrieved his newly acquired metal staff from his hip sack, still in awe at the powers of the magical pack.

  When Fidel and Methvas reached the bottom of the stairs, the servant who took his original staff and rucksack gave a curious look at Fidel and then looked at the staff in his own hand.

  “The carriage awaits outside. Here are your items, Sir,” the servant stated.

  Fidel grabbed the seven-foot long “walking stick” and placed it in his new travel pack. He then took his rucksack and placed that in the travel pack as well. He continued to look in amazement at the possibilities for this new pack of his. The father-son duo made their way out of the keep.

  Methvas and Fidel made their way to the carriage and climbed in. The carriage headed toward the town of Harlow's Hovel.

  A few moments passed and Methvas spoke up first. “I guess this is our final ride. Your mother will surely want to say good-bye and give you some traveling gifts as well. I am speechless. After all, what is a father supposed to say to his departing child?”

  Fidel thought for a moment. “I am thinking you wish me a safe journey and I promise to return. Sound about right?” Met
hvas and Fidel both shared in the amusement of the simplified statement. They both sat in silence, watching the scenery of Harlow's Hovel pass by in the retreating light of the late afternoon sky.

  A few minutes later, they were riding by Shartiva's General Store, their mercantile. They saw a sign on the door stating the shop was closed. They both looked at each other, as Shar's store was typically open from sunrise to sunset. They both understood this was a special day.

  When they pulled up to the house, they both jumped down from the carriage and thanked the driver. The driver tipped his hat and headed off to the keep. Fidel and Methvas couldn't help but notice the smells coming from their home. The sweet smells of desserts coupled with the bulky aroma of stews. They both felt their stomachs grumble as they made their way into their home.

  Methvas and Fidel stood at the front door in awe, seeing rows and rows of cooked food. Stews, steaks, roasts, kabobs, various breads and desserts all over the counters and tables. All of which packaged in pinewood boxes, designed for travel. It became quite clear what Shar's departure gift was to Fidel at that time. Shar smiled at them and walked over to give them a hug. Upon hugging Fidel, she paused for a moment.

  “Did you gain some massive muscle in one day?” she asked tapping on Fidel's shoulder and hearing a metallic clang in return.

  Fidel stepped back and removed his robe. “A fabulous set of armor isn't it? A gift from Lord Ias and further enchanted by Father.”

  Shar looked over the armor with admiration. “Very nice! But what about your shoes? You cannot walk such a long path without a good set of shoes.” Fidel gave Shar a curious look. She picked up a box off the settle couch and handed it to him. Fidel opened the box and pulled out a pair of silk boots, black with thick soles.

  “Put 'em on!” Shar said. Fidel complied with the request. His feet slid in easily, a perfect fit.

  Methvas walked over to the settle. “So, Fidel, what enchantment shall be placed on the boots? What would be best for the adventurer Fidel?”