#siros

Jahal, Luwyn’s guardian

Luwyn picked at his stew. Jahal grumbled to himself across the table, eyeing Luwyn every other minute. Their eyes caught each other and another question popped into Luwyn’s mind, a familiar one. His lips formed the words out of habit. “Jahal,” he started, “why did we leave Rodan? Why did we come to this place?”

Jahal’s eyes opened quickly, and he sputtered and choked on his stew. “I’ve told you over and over,” he said between coughs. “It is ti-”

“‘It is time, Luwyn, it is time!’ You will give me a new answer, old man,” Luwyn spat. “You’ve ripped me from my homeland and shipped me to a new place, where I have to work harder than you do, and you still get to boss me around. You will tell me.” There was a fire in Luwyn’s eye, and Jahal saw it flicker. He knew Luwyn wouldn’t back down anytime soon.

He let out a deep sigh, tossed his spoon into his stew and leaned back in his chair so that the wood creaked and moaned.

“First of all, Rodan is not your homeland,” Jahal started. He scratched his chin and watched Luwyn’s face open with surprise. “You were born here, in Siros. We—you, your parents and I—moved to Rodan after…” He paused for a long time, as if choosing his next words carefully.

“After you were born, the previous ruler of Siros took power from her husband. King Miotus was starting his reign when he married the Lady Irona of Ioba, a powerful sorceress from the Isles of Magic. Their union brought about King Liandros. Miotus was killed when Liandros was a boy, and Irona took power for herself as Regent until her son was of age.”

“So we moved because my parents didn’t agree with the monarch?”

Jahal shook his head. “Irona’s regency was a dictatorship, and its sole purpose was to syphon the power from the Kingdom and the rest of Gaelenor. Fortunately, the queen died several years ago, and Liandros took the throne. No better, I say, but less ambitious than his mother. Irona wanted it all, Liandros seems to only want fancy clothes. “

Luwyn chuckled and looked down.

“I have wanted to return to Siros for nearly two decades, Lu,” Jahal whispered. He stared out of the window into the night sky, a dreamy look in his eye. “This isn’t just your homeland, Luwyn. It is also mine, and I have missed it dearly. The air in Rodan was stale. Inhale, boy. Breathe in the air you were meant to breathe. You are Sirosi, through and through. Never forget that.”