Chapter 2: The Starboy And the Widow’s Wall

“Easy there. Easy.”

The boy caught the fallen cow, cradling its head against his chest for a moment. He caressed it, whispering the end of his prayer.

"While your flesh will nourish our bodies, your soul shall be guided by the spirits back to the Urtmother and protected by the Sovereign of the Seven Laws."

Enel closed the beast’s eyes, and with a nod… casually dove his hand through its neck without any resistance at all. The cow’s blood showered gently away from him, keeping his long, golden hair clean.

"Where should I put him, Gregor?" the boy asked, glancing at a man behind him while pulling a wooden bucket closer to catch the cow’s blood.

The muscular butcher looked up from sharpening his knives, his weathered face creasing into a smile as he approached Enel. "Please, put it on the table, young baron. I’ll have some fine cuts ready for you soon enough if you just wait."

"I am afraid I cannot stay. I promised Lamb that we are going to play—I mean, we are going on a mission." Enel stood up… his palms leaving up the floor, and up. Until his eyes were almost at the same level as the large butcher.

He then casually threw the cow over his shoulder, a cow twice his size.

“There?” he pointed at an empty table.

“Please, young baron.” Gregor nodded, making way for Enel.

Enel lowered the carcass onto the wooden table with surprising gentleness. He wiped the dirt on his face, once again smiling as he looked at Gregor.

"Just give our portion to whoever has not eaten today. Perhaps to the refugees?"

The butcher bowed. "You’re too kind, young baron."

"Please, Gregor." Enel lightly laughed. "You bow to my parents, not to me. And call me Enel."

"Aye, Enel." Gregor's head remained lowered, but his eyes were checking Enel with a grin. "You're getting taller every day. Just three and ten, and already near my height."

"Thanks to all the meat you give me, most like." Enel also grinned, but he quietly cleared his throat and straightened his back.

"You are even starting to talk like the baron! Ha!"

"Ah, young Enel!" A woman's voice called from the back room. Gregor’s wife emerged, flour dusting her apron. "Stay for supper. I'll make that stew you love. We’ve bread, too. How does that sound, eh?"

"I would be honored, Lysa. But I have... prior engagements."

"You mean playing with that seamstress' daughter? I have ears, you know." Lysa laughed, the sound warm as fresh bread. "Sometimes I forget you're only thirteen. I have pots older than you. How time flies, eh?”

"Does it?” Enel lightly bowed his head, chuckling. “Does not seem like it to me, my lady. You still look as beautiful and young as ever."

"Quite a flatterer, this one. It feels just yesterday you almost sneezed out our door."

“Lysa.” Gregor sighed. “We do not talk about that. Boy can’t help he was gifted with a Blessed Body by the Sovereign."

"Ugh. The gods have nothin' to do with it. Do they?" Lysa waved her husband off. "Go on now, Enel. The last we kept you, Lamb gave us an earful.”

“Heh…” Enel scratched the back of his head, but once again stood up straight, nodding. “...Tomorrow, then.”

"Afraid not, young lord." Gregor's voice lowered. "That was the last of our cattle."

"The last…?" Enel squinted. He approached a tub of water, cleaning his hands as he turned his head out the window toward the empty barn. "Already?"

***

Outside, Enel breathed easier. The hamlet spread before him—well, at least, it looked like a hamlet. The place was too large, and one could see the walls surrounding the city. A proof that it was once a glorious place.

It was sprawling with people, too. But their houses looked ready to collapse. Weathered wood, cracked stone, and roofs that looked like they would collapse with simple wind.

Yet… the people smiled. And almost everyone called for him as he walked.

“Lordling Blackwood! Come chase some chickens! They are on the roofs again, the buggers!"

"Little baron! The apple tree you moved to my yard is bearing fruit already!"

Most people bowed to him, while some casually waved with smiles on their faces.

But while most of the people in the barony were smiling and working, some were seated listlessly on the ground, their clothes tattered and as weathered as their faces. They were asking for coins and food, but stopped and bowed as soon as they noticed Enel walking.

And it wasn't that hard to notice Enel—it was actually harder not to notice him. His long, luscious golden hair bounced loudly for everyone to see and appreciate.

He waved and nodded to acknowledge the people calling to him, keeping the smile on his face. But he didn’t stop for anyone; he continued to walk with his back straight and chest out. That was, until he saw someone hammering a poor tree with a wooden sword on an empty lot.

The person spotted him, too. And she immediately stopped whacking the tree. It was a girl, wearing men’s garments and a bandana on her head.

“What ye’ seek is not here, Veilwalker!” the girl said loudly, pointing her wooden sword at Enel.

Enel stared at the girl for a moment, and almost instantly, his straightened back relaxed and his shoulders lowered.

“Aha!” He pointed at the boyish girl, the tone of his voice relieved of all the dignity and formality they had earlier. Any attempt at maturity, gone.

“Oh. What I have sought for is here, peasant!” he exclaimed, hunching his back while baring his teeth. “It is that, the magical Tree of Breath!”

“Huh?!” The girl gasped, then stepped in front of the tree to protect it. “I will not let you have the magical Tree of—wait, a minute.”

Then all of a sudden, the girl’s voice turned high-pitched. “Why am I a peasant again?! I thought I was supposed to be a Hero today!”

“Pft…” Enel chuckled, his teeth showing as he looked down at the girl. “Peasants can be Heroes, Lamb. And I’m always the vemon. You don’t hear me uttering complaints.”

“What else can you be?!” The girl, Lamb, trailed the tip of her wooden sword at Enel’s frame. “Look at you. You’re a brute! Last year, you were only taller than me by an egg! But now, I can place an entire chicken on my head, and you’ll still be taller!”

“Heh. It’s not my fault I am blessed by beauty and strength,” he scoffed, flicking his luscious hair to the side. “Ah. Life.”

“You think you’re beautiful? The baroness still brushes your hair.” Lamb gritted her teeth. “You act like a nine-year-old. And you’re Breathless!”

“I do not blaspheme, but the gods sought to punish me for my beauty. Oh, woe…” Enel covered his mouth. “And you’re also Breathless, last I checked.”

“I’ll break that face of yours. Prepare, Veilwalker!” Lamb lowered into a stance.

“Aha!” And Enel also lowered himself, motioning his fingers into claws. “I will eat you and skin you alive, peasant!”

The people passing by watched as Lamb lunged and swung her sword at their young baron. All of them, shaking their heads and sighing, before casually returning to their business.

The two played like this for hours until the land turned orange and the clouds darkened. The two were now resting their backs on the tattered tree, with Enel’s eyes turning deep bronze from the resting sun.

“Ha…” Lamb sighed, caressing her wooden sword as she pointed it at the tall wall surrounding their dilapidated city. “...I’m going to be a Hero someday. I’ll stand worthy beside you, Enel. I promise you.”

“...Why do you need to be worthy?” Enel tilted his head, his hair flowing down his shoulders as he looked at Lamb. “I like you as you are.”

“You’re the baron’s son,” Lamb whispered, shaking her head. She removed her bandana, revealing her long, brown hair. Strands sticking onto her sweat-covered face. “Not to mention you’re one of the Blessed.

“Even if you don’t get your Breath, you could pluck an entire tree with your bare hands.” Lamb knocked on the wooden tree behind them. “I’m just… a peasant.”

“There are no peasants in Widow’s Wall, Lamb.” Enel stood up, shaking his head before reaching his hand out to Lamb. “All of us are friends here.”

“You just said I was a peasant.”

“We were playing.”

“Tch…” Lamb reached for Enel’s hand… only for him to wave it away. He raised his pinkie finger, sticking out his tongue at her.

“You—!” Lamb quickly stood up, chasing after Enel as he ran away. “I’m going to tell the baron you did something obscene! Enel!”

The two left their courtyard, running around the city, both with smiles on their faces. But as they reached a certain house, Lamb’s joyful steps suddenly halted.

“Lamb?” Enel quickly noticed this, and his steps also slowed down before he walked back to her. Lamb, however, didn’t respond to him at all.

“Lamb!” he called again, even louder this time. But Lamb still didn’t respond. So, Enel turned to look where she was looking. “This is… your house?”

And there, Enel finally saw what Lamb was staring at—her mother. Weeping openly in front of their house. There were other people there, too, all watching and shaking their heads at the sobbing woman.

“What… happened?” Enel muttered.

“My brother,” Lamb whispered, tears already forming in her eyes. “I think… I think the duke’s men finally took him. We have received the letter, but… now?”

“To war?” Enel’s eyes widened. “I wonder when they’ll take me.”

Lamb glanced at him, clutching the hilt of her sword tighter. “You are the baron’s son, Enel. They won’t take you.”

“I… don't think that’s so…?” Enel shook his head. “We are all equal under the Seven Laws. As a noble, I have a duty to—”

“With respect, your grace…” The tone of Lamb’s voice turned deeper. The familiarity she had with Enel, withering away as she cursed the gods. “…the Sovereign can go fuck himself.”

“Wh—”

Enel managed no more before Lamb turned away, running into her mother’s arms. Enel wanted to chase after her and offer any consolation he could.

“Lamb…”

But seeing Lamb’s mother hugging her as tightly as she could, Enel lost any strength he had to approach.

“The war…”

He stared at his best friend for a moment longer, shaking his head before walking home.

***

An hour later, Enel was having supper with his parents. But he wasn’t talking at all, only staring at his bowl—thin soup, a heel of bread, meat that Gregor had butchered a week’s time ago.

For a baron's family, they ate like… the rest of the people of Widow’s Wall, maybe even less than. Wooden bowls, wooden spoons, no servants to pour their wine because they had no wine to pour in the first place.

He looked at his parents across the scarred table. His father's hands were callused from working his own fields. His mother's dress had been mended so many times that it looked even worse than their tattered curtains.

The dinner was a quiet affair. That was, until Enel asked a question.

"Father, Mother…. Why haven't they called me to war?"