Chapter 188: Father and Son

Humming ot himself, Edmund paced back and forth outside of Diana’s fitting room, wishing to enter but unable to bring himself to. Although he understood the custom of not seeing the bride in her dress until they stood on the altar, he couldn’t help but desperately want to. Taking a deep breath, Edmund steeled himself and reached for the door handle, stopping when he heard a throat clear down the hall.

Jumping up and turning, he saw his father and gave a shy smile before stepping back, "Father." Lord Wells sighed and walked over, his cane echoing with each step. Edmund could see he was struggling with the pain in his leg; it was worse today than it had been on other days.

"Edmund, why is it you can’t be patient?" Placing a hand on his shoulder, Lord Wells used his son to steady himself before indicating to move on. Peeking at the door a final time, Edmund sighed and turned, walking slowly so his father could keep pace.

"Father, surely you understand my excitement." Suppressing his smile, Lord Wells shook his head.

"We must be patient for the things we love and want. The same way one must wait for their meal to be made, you must wait for the day you stand on the altar." Looking Edmund up and down, he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. "Have your own robes been prepared?"

Edmund rapidly nodded. "Mother summoned her own people, for both Diana and me. Luckily, my outfit is rather simple, so they could spend more time on hers." Lord Wells let out a low chuckle, his eyes nostalgic.

"Our wedding robes are the most humble clothes we should wear. I was surprised she didn’t wear her own mother’s, however."

"Diana said she would be a lady of the Flatlands after we are wed and that she must get accustomed to it. That being said, I think she asked the dress to be designed as her mother’s own." Lord Wells nodded with pride, his hand tightening around his cane, "Father." Emdund’s voice turned sombre. "Why was Mother upset the other day?"

"What do you mean?"

"She is very good at hiding it, but I could tell. She wasn’t as lively, and her eyes seemed sad." Lord Wells closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Thinking for a moment whether he should say it and ruin Edmund’s own mood, he opened his eyes and looked down at his son and saw his calm expression.

"Edmund, you’re not a child anymore, and you must understand the realm if you wish to take my place." Rubbing his leg again in pain, Lord Wells went into a side room, signalled for the servants to leave, and took a seat. Edmund quickly moved, grabbing another chair and placing it before his father so he could lift his leg and let it rest. "Vincent and Cleeve are dead."

Edmund’s eyes widened, and for a moment Lord Wells wondered if his son would try to deny the truth or mourn. For a moment, Edmund’s lips twitched, frowning and smiling until it mellowed out and his calm expression returned with a sombre hint to it, "I see. Do you know how?"

"Cleeve died in battle with the King. As for Vincent... We don’t know; the King has kept the news rather silent. Which tends to mean assassination or betrayal. I lean more toward assassination as a betrayal; one that killed a Cosmaton would likely be made public at this time to rally support, as well as knowing what type of person Brandon is."

"You think Uncle Brandon did it?" Edmund questions, making Lord Wells raise an eyebrow.

"Do you not?"

"I don’t know." Taking a seat next to his father, Edmund took a deep breath. "Brandon is a terrfying person, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure he is capable of it, but I don’t think it was him. After all, does Vincent have any value in this war? He is less of a fighter than I am, and I doubt he is tactically sound. I just don’t think he would waste or risk resources on Vincent."

"Maybe, but who else would it be, Edmund?"

"I don’t know. But few people actually liked Vincent. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone used the war as a chance to settle a grudge." Shrugging, Edmund pushed aside his thoughts. "But I could be wrong; after all, Brandon could have some grand plan." Chuckling to himself, it died out, ending in a sigh, "Will Mother be alright?"

"She is a strong woman, Edmund, and it isn’t the first time she has lost family."

"Still, it’s not something that can easily be gotten over." Shrugging, Edmund looked at his father before smiling and leaning against his shoulder. Lord Wells looked down in surprise at his son but said nothing. "Has Tristan sent a letter?"

"He has." Lord Wells took the letter out and handed it over to Edmund. With a happy smile, he tore it open and slowly read.

’Edmund, I hope you’re well, despite your mother’s punishment, although I can’t say it isn’t deserved. You’re an idiot, you know. But despite that, congratulations on the coming child; I wish I could be there for the wedding, but that will be impossible. Hopefully this is all over soon, and I can come when the child is born. We will be lucky if it doesn’t look like you.’

Snorting, Edmund shook his head and carried on, noticing a long pause where the ink soaked into the paper, followed by writing that was shakier.

’Going foward I will not be able to write to you. I’ve been sent to the Waterway. I won’t be able to use paper for personal letters, and likely anything I try to send will be shot down. I know you’re going to worry about me, but don’t. I have Annabell, and I was better than you with the sword.’

’Congratulations, my friend, and may the Gods bless your child. Your friend, Tristan.’

Lowering the letter, Edmund took a deep breath. "He’s such an idiot," Quielty muttered under his breath. Lord Wells noticed the change of emotion in his son’s voice, the dread and sadness. Peeking down at the letter, he read and understood why.

"Tristan is a smart lad, Edmund; do not worry yourself too much."

"Father, he is smart, but this is a war, and Tristan isn’t suited for it. Such an idiot; why didn’t he come with me?" Lord Wells sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Some people act and do things that can’t be explained, Edmund." Rubbing his leg, Lord Wells smiled, "You know my leg turned out like this because I protected King Henry in battle once." Edmund nodded. "It wasn’t the wound that caused it, but me continuing to use it even after it was injured. I couldn’t accept not being seen as a strong man. So even when I was told to rest, I didn’t. I would take a crutch and walk around showing off my battle injury in service of the king. Because of that, the doctors said I destroyed part of my leg, and it would never be the same again. Everything told me rest was the smart thing to do, Edmund, but for no explainable reason I had to show off. I was young and stupid."

Edmund laughed, looking at his father, not expecting him to have such a story, but sighed, "Tristan isn’t like that, however, father. Your story was because you’re impulsive, but Tristan. What benefit did he have staying in the Palace and not coming with me?" Running a hand through his hair, Edmund groaned, "I can tell he has so many secrets he won’t tell me and is always putting himself down." His voice was full of anger before a moment before he calmed down and let his hand drop. "It doesn’t make sense why he would join the war. He told me what he wanted. A normal life, not even as a Princeling or lord, but more like a commonfolk. What he is doing doesn’t make sense."

"You say Tristan isn’t like me, Edmund, but to me he sounds exactly like me when I was young. Although unlike me, who did it for glory, he has another reason."

Clicking his tongue, Edmund jumped up. "He’d better survive. Becuase when the war is over, I’m going to force him to tell me all the secrets he’s hiding." Smiling, Edmund looked back at his father. "You know, I bet he told Mabel. He thinks he hides it well, but he cares deeply about her. It isn’t how I was when I was courting Diana, but he has feelings for her that are different from his friendship with me."

Lord Wells’ eyes widened. Slowly picking his leg up and putting it down, he tried to rise, Edmund leaning over, helping him. "All men are stupid in the face of a woman they love, Edmund. Look at me and you. I destroyed my leg to win a king’s favour to marry his daughter, and you prematurely got your betrothed pregnant. Your cousin is a smart man, but if he wishes to wed the princess, he would have to give a reason for it."

Edmund thought for a moment and slowly nodded, feeling it made sense. "Maybe, but it doesn’t make complete sense." Lord Wells lifted an eyebrow. "Tristan is terrified of leaving the palace. He would only ever do it if forced."