Anything But Common

I’d like again to apologize for last week and not posting until today. But DICAS is kinda important to me. Thankfully, it is all submitted and awaiting for the internships to look at. Groan. Now it’s a long process of interviews and waiting to see if I’m accepted or not. I won’t know anything until April 1. What a great April Fool’s Joke! (Not!)

Oh, and I’m switching to Friday posts again. I don’t work Fridays and I have a better time posting on my family’s computer more than the one I currently use. Hopefully I’ll get a new laptop coming the end of March, beginning of April.

But you don’t want to hear about my computer problems. You want story. Very well, our hero is trying to take the mansion back. Oh, and by the way, the 50,000th word was written toward the end of this post. Enjoy!
**************
They finally came up with a plan that afternoon. It was after breakfast that the older commanders finally listened to Commander Bentley’s plan and then they spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon bashing out the small details of it. Martin sat through all of it, listening but not really involved. The only reason he stayed with them was because he wanted to be part of the plan of regaining the mansion. This was his fault. He should at least have a hand at cleaning up his mess.

As the day progressed, he could feel his body slowly lose strength from the loss of sleep. Bentley kept shooting him worried glances as they finalized the plan. The one thing Martin did not want is for the commander to order him to stay behind and get some rest. It was time to ask the Spirit for some help. If it was going to meddle with his life, he expected something in return.

You there, Aeterna?

“Always.”

It was good to know that he could call on Aeterna when he needed, not just when the Spirit needed him. Bentley’s worried that I’ll collapse from lack of sleep.

“And?”

Sara was right. It did have a personality. Well, he thought to it, still unsure how he was having this conversation. I won’t be able to do any good to help the prisoners if I’m too tired to do what I need to do. He assumed that the Spirit had been listening in on the meeting and knew that he had a part in the plan.

“You have a point. We’ll renew your energy when the time comes.” The voice was then gone. Martin snorted softly to himself. The Spirit was doing a lot of things to him without his permission. He would have been bitter if his emotions weren’t suppressed and if it weren’t just so useful.

It wasn’t until evening that they had everything ready for the takeover. All things considering, they worked fairly fast for the amount of people ready to march on the mansion. Even in his emotion-suppressed state, Martin was impressed by their efficiency.

“You know the plan right?” Bentley asked him for what seemed the hundredth time.

“Yes,” Martin sighed, exasperated. “You and the rest of the army will work on disabling the magical barrier while I sneak back inside, turn off the Inhibitor on the prince, restore his powers, and signal that I’ve completed my task by tolling the bell three times.” He had to explain the Inhibitor to these men. They didn’t realize the danger he was still in. If Terk managed to permanently block his powers…. He managed to suppress his shiver. He didn’t want to go back to that half life.

“Then we rush in and take the mansion back,” Bentley finished, a distant look in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Martin actually smiled. The moment they started marching for the mansion, he felt the strength Aeterna had promised him. “I can do this,” he shrugged off. “Just don’t fail on your part.”

They came to the same spot of the wall he had used to escape. The oak tree was just as he had left it. Martin stopped as he gazed up at the high branches.

“Something wrong?” Bentley asked after he ordered his men to start working on the magical barrier.

“Sort of,” Martin muttered, still gazing up at the branches. “I’m terrified of heights.”

“No,” Bentley breathed, shocked. “Should we send someone else?”

Martin quickly shook his head. “I’ve got to do this. Heights haven’t stopped me yet. Could I get a hand up?” Calling back a couple other soldiers, they helped him reach the high branches. Clinging to the branch after he got up, Martin forced himself to move forward, trying to ignore the ground below. He once again passed through the magical barrier, the cold gripping at him and pulling him inside. He gasped as he passed through. Behind him, he heard some other soldiers also making their way across the branches.

No time to think about them, Martin thought, getting to the trunk and climbing down. He had a job to do. He had to get his powers back.
****************
Hal Gaffner had tried to work through the night on the Inhibitor, but he had fallen asleep in the early morning and only just woke up in the afternoon. He was embarrassed to admit that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Working all night used to be easy on him, but now, well into his forties with his hairline already receding, he knew his age was catching up with him.

Not that it mattered with his work. He counted himself lucky that Terk hadn’t come to visit him while he was napping on the workbench. Gaffner knew all too well of the general’s temper. This was a project he had to get done.

Rubbing his eyes from sleep, he picked up where he had left off. While he did not like the working conditions, the lack of sleep, threats, and a workroom with barely enough space for all his magical tools, he did like the pay that was promised to him if he did this task. Just thinking about that large amount of gold to be his if he managed to block this Aeternan prince when the other mages could not… He shivered with glee. All that money for him if he could get the job done!

He picked up his specs and put them on. The room immediately lit up to his vision. Magic was revealed to him with these glasses, each magic a different color. His tools all glowed different colors, signifying the use of the magic. But he should focus on the Inhibitor and glove. The Inhibitor was a dark grey color, signifying its ability to cover other magic, suppressing it until the magic would be either of little or no use. It had been easy, although a long process, to create this Inhibitor. That wasn’t the problem, however. It was the glove that caused him grief.

Just glancing at the glove, he knew it was old magic infused in it. To him, it looked like any other common glove, made of dark leather with green trim. If he could put it on, it would reach almost to his elbow. However, he had been warned not to wear it. Only a Santer could wear it.

But looking at it with his glasses, he knew it was far different from any magical object in the room. He couldn’t quite explain it. It was almost as if there were several different types of magic infused in the glove, either a result of the Renewal spell, the magic of the land, or even the prince’s own magical aura, he couldn’t tell. But it made it terribly difficult to read or even figure out how to create a block. Should he focus on the magic of the land? The prince himself? The Renewal spell? Or all of them?

He shook his head. Terk knew it might take a week to create the block. Gaffner was bright enough to not mention that it might prove to be an impossible task. There was just too much magic to suppress.

If only the prince was here, he thought bitterly, picking up the Inhibitor, hoping an answer might be found there. Another Inhibitor had suppressed the prince for nearly sixteen years. Perhaps the answer lay there…

A knife appeared at his throat.

“Don’t move,” whispered a deep voice. Gaffner froze, though his hands started shaking. “And don’t scream. I’ll cut your throat before the sound even leaves your body.” Gaffner believed the threat. That knife felt sharp! But that wasn’t the only reason why he believed the threat. There was something wrong with that voice. There wasn’t any emotion in it. The man who held the knife sounded like a man who would kill him without a second thought.

“Now,” the voice went on. “Where are the Inhibitor and the Connection?” Gaffner trembled. What would Terk do if he learned about this? All that nice money taken away! He should scream.

“I don’t have time for heroics,” the man snapped, the knife pressed harder against his neck. Gaffner gulped. “Where are they?”

With shaking hands he lifted the objects up. “Good,” the man said softly, easing the pressure of the knife but still held it to his neck. “Turn the Inhibitor off.”

“I…” Gaffner thought of lying. Surely this man didn’t know…

“I know it needs to be turned off,” he growled. “I’ve watched it done before. Now, turn it off!”

Putting the glove down, Gaffner did as ordered. Whoever held the knife knew his magic. He turned the silver ball in his hands, moving the different pieces to inactivate it.

Click.

Gaffner briefly thought to keep stalling by keeping moving the pieces of the Inhibitor when the man pressed his knife again. “That’s enough. It’s off.” The man really did know his magic.

“What ar… are you pl…planning to do…do with me?” Gaffner asked, not the least ashamed that his voice quivered. “Yo… You know there is no…no way out of th…this mansion.”

“I’ve got out once without powers,” the voice whispered. “I’m sure I can get out again.”

Gaffner gasped. The prince! Suddenly the knife disappeared from his throat and something hard hit his head. He sank to the ground, his vision blacking. He managed to look up at the man who had held him captive. Martin Santer gazed down at him coldly, the knife still in his hand.

“Who are you?” he asked. Surly a prince would not know how to sneak into a mage’s workroom and threaten him. Such a common face… No one thought any threat from that… But Gaffner knew better now.

“Me?” the prince asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not to be underestimated.” He knocked the hilt of his knife on the side of his head and Gaffner blacked out without another word.
*************
Martin didn’t waste any time watching as the mage finally blacked out. He had work to do. Just has it had been a year before, he placed the Inhibitor on his glove. The magic had to be transferred back. That’s what happened last time. He closed his eyes as the magic flashed back into his Connection, making it glow softly. He reached for it when he remembered something.

Aeterna… he thought wearily.

“Yes?”

Is this going to hurt? Like last time? Last time he had spent all night sprawled on the floor as the magic flooded back into him.

“It shouldn’t,” was the reply. “The pain was just us getting reunited with you. We’ve only been separated for a short time.”

That made sense. He picked up the glove and pain raced through him. He dropped to his hands and knees with a cry, roaring filled his ears and the pain tingling every part of him.

Liars!

“Sorry.”
***********
Abigail gazed up at the tall windows above the ballroom, judging that it was evening. Nearly a full day since Martin came into her office and admitted to being her son. A full day since Terk took over the mansion, killed Luke, and taken her son away. If she had any energy left, she would have been trying to find a way out. But her energy, as well as everyone in the ballroom, was gone.

Sighing, she dropped her gaze and looked over the ballroom. They had not yet been permitted to leave, except in small groups to relieve themselves in the privy. The Venter guards had also delivered blankets for the night and stale bread for their meals. Other than that, they were locked in the room, men in Aeternan uniforms still making sure they didn’t escape.

She sat on the stage, a back corner so no one was staring at her. After they had taken Martin away, she tried to order some sort of organization to the crowd when gaurds came with their blankets. After the blankets had been given out, they all tried to get some rest, though she doubted sleep came easily. She kept waking up all night, drenched in sweat and trembling in fear. The nightmare of seventeen years before kept haunting her. Her son’s room, masked thieves hurling themselves from the window, thinking her son was dead.

She idly played with her necklace, a silver locket with the Santer symbol. It had been Jon’s wedding gift to her. Her Connection. If Martin had his, she would have felt him. However, it seemed that they had taken it away from him. Though her face was drawn with exhaustion, her stomach kept knotting in painful ways, worrying over her son.

“Your Majesty?” Lord Grelend said, walking up to her. Glancing up, she noted the bags under the lord’s eyes. The man had spent most of the night helping where he could, as did his daughter and son. They were good people. They didn’t deserve this. He held a loaf of stale bread.

“You should eat,” he said, kneeling down and handing her the loaf. “It’s been since morning.”

“I doubt I could keep it down,” she sighed, though taking a small bite. She let her eyes wander around the ballroom again. She could name half of those inside, mostly men and their wives. Sona had disappeared to somewhere. Abigail didn’t blame her. The poor girl had just found out that the man who was courting her was the prince and he was currently in danger. The pretty researcher needed time alone to figure out her emotions. But thoughts of the researcher vanished as she spotted a table across the ballroom from her.

Thomas hadn’t left Luke’s body since… She sighed. She had ordered that they at least cover the spy’s body and a white blanket was spared to wrap around his cold form. Someone else, she guessed Grelend, suggested that they place the body on a table, allowing people to pay their respects to him. Thomas refused to leave his friend’s body, the haunting look in his eye she knew all too well. She felt that when she thought her Henry dead. She felt it again when her husband died.

“I wonder if they knew,” she whispered. Sona hadn’t, but Thomas and Luke were Martin’s best friends. Surly they knew, right?

“Who knew what?” Grelend asked, sitting down next to her.

“My rambling,” she sighed, taking another small bite. Where was Martin?

“I wouldn’t have guessed that Martin was… is your son,” Grelend was saying, trying to draw her out of her melancholy. “I know he’s a Ghost, and he was very good in all his classes… but he was just so…” He sighed, realizing that he had just set himself up to explain. “Common looking.”

“I think that’s what the kidnappers had in mind,” she said softly, completely agreeing with the lord. It was one of the reasons why Martin made a good spy. No one looked twice at him. “No one would see a prince behind that common face.”

Pain raced through her. Yelping, she dropped her bread, holding her head.

“Your Majesty?” Grelend asked with concern, but she didn’t hear him. Something else filled her view.

Someone was on his hands and knees, fighting to keep the pain away. One hand grasped her son’s Connection.

Liars! she heard. That was Martin! He had escaped!

“Sorry.”

This second voice she knew immediately. The Spirit of Aeterna. Her son could talk to it! Her son shook his head, slowly getting to his feet. He was in what looked like a workroom, with a table covered in tools. There was another man, Terk’s pet mage, but he was unconscious on the floor. But she ignored the man, focusing on Martin. He was dressed in an Aeternan uniform and looked extremely tired.

Shaking his head one last time, he glanced up to a high window. From his view he could see the clock tower. Glancing down briefly, he put the glove on and, looking back up, reached up to the window, focusing…

BONG!

Abigail shook out of the vision, the image leaving her mind. She wasn’t the only one to look around when the bell rang.

BONG!

BONG!

The last note of the bell died off. The ballroom was silent for a moment then erupted into whispers. It wasn’t the normal time for three chimes.

“Your Majesty?” Grelend asked, looking worried at her smile. “Are you alright?”

Abigail laughed. She knew what those bells had meant. Martin had escaped only to bring back reinforcements. They were going to get rescued!

“Get everyone ready,” she ordered, standing back up. She felt alive again, just knowing her son had escaped. “We’re going to have company.”
*************
Overtaking the initial guards was easy. As was dispelling the magical barrier around the estate. Commander Bentley was greatly pleased with how the plan was going. He wasn’t the only one who cheered when the bell rang out three times. It meant that Martin had managed to turn the Inhibitor off. The prince was safe! Well, the commander amended to himself, as safe as he can be until we get him back.

They had gained entrance to the mansion through the servants’ entrance and there he stayed as he commanded the sweep through the mansion. The other commanders were busy taking care of the enemy out on the grounds. Martin had said that Terk hadn’t brought many with him, but it wasn’t until they started fighting that he realized that the spy has spoken the truth. To avoid suspicion, Terk hadn’t brought much more than the normal guards that Bentley would have. Jim made note of if. He needed to increase the number of guards to insure no one would attack them again.

Getting a report from one of his runners, Martin ran into the room, pausing briefly as he saw the commotion of soldiers. He slowed his pace but he walked quickly through the men to join him.

“Martin!” Jim said, grinning. “It’s done! Terk has been spotted running for the ballroom with a few guards. Care to come along?”

“Of course,” Martin said, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve got some unfinished business with Terk.”

Bentley laughed and was going to ask about the Inhibitor when he finally noticed Martin’s right hand… Where had he gotten that glove? And why not two…

Glove? Bentley paled. No, not just a glove. The Connection! Martin frowned at him before realizing what he was staring at. Sighing, he looked down at his gloved hand. At this point everyone noticed him. Without knowing why he knew, Bentley knew what it meant for him to wear that Connection.

Taking a deep breath, Martin formed a fist with his gloved hand, glaring. “If you so much as try to stop me from joining you,” the prince growled, pointing with his other hand, “I will show you what I can do. Now let’s march!”

Turning on his heel, Martin marched away. Halfway to the door, he threw his arm out to the side and caught a bow that was flying at him. A second later, a quiver full of arrows came from the other direction and he caught it out of the air. Bentley wasn’t the only one who was staring.

“Sir,” the runner whispered, the first to find his voice. “Are you just going to let him fight?”

“What choice do I have?” Bentley asked, blinking fast. Martin, the Spy Alex, was the prince? A man who was so common looking that he was almost always dismissed? Why hadn’t he…? The commander shook his head. They were still trying to retake the mansion! “Men!” he snapped, gaining everyone’s attention. “Form ranks! We’ve got a Mad General to catch!”
******************
The captives were all confused about her order to get ready. Ready for what? Abigail just smiled and said that they were expecting company. Some had caught her meaning and grinned back. They were going to get rescued.

She wasn’t sure what was happening. She only knew Martin’s part of the plan. He was supposed to turn off the Inhibitor and ring the bell three times when he had completed his task. What that meant for the rescuers, she couldn’t say. It would be just another question to ask him when he returned. But that did not mean that she couldn’t help these people be ready. Warning them that something was going to happen would help.

It wasn’t long after the bell had tolled that things became quiet. Abigail was in the process of talking with Grelend’s son Phillip when the silence spread through the room. Even their guards at the door and on the balcony above grew still, listening. The air was tight with anticipation. Something was going to happen…

BANG!

The grand entrance burst open and fighting soldiers spilled into the room. Several people screamed and backed away, fleeing from the blades that were flashing. Abigail tried to push through the fleeing crowd, trying to see what was happening. She finally burst through, shocked by the scene that met her.

General Terk fought in a ring of his soldiers, fighting off the true Aeternans. Glancing up to the balcony, she watched as the archers were taken out from behind. Terk also noticed the archers being replaced by Aeternans. He swore loudly and broke out of the ring, running for the closest escape, leaving his men to fight the soldiers.

“TERK!”

The voice boomed over the noise in the ballroom. Abigail gazed up at the grand entrance. Martin stood in the mist of the broken door, sighting down an arrow pointed at Terk. People often called Martin common looking, even she admitted it. But at that moment, surrounded by debris and the sounds of battle ringing in the air, there was nothing common about him. Nothing common about the aura of power and determination in his stance, expression, eyes, the very air. It was then when she finally realized the mistake she had made. Martin was more powerful and more dangerous than anyone knew.

Below in the ballroom, Terk paled. Fumbling, he ripped a medal off his coat and pulled it apart. The air around him warped in color….Transport magic!

“No!” Martin yelled, his face contorted with rage and pain. He let his arrow loose. The warped light around Terk slowly faded and his arrow passed through nothing.
**********
It took almost an hour to restore order to the ballroom. The men Terk had brought with him were being taken away. Those in the ballroom started filing out; there were moans and groans from those who had bruised themselves from their flight, but no one was the worse for wear. Abigail had to congratulate Commander Bentley for a rescue well done. The commander took it gracefully, though his attention seemed to be elsewhere. Once his attention was drawn away as a runner came to report of what else was happening in the mansion, Abigail decided it was time to focus on her son.

Martin had sat down on the grand staircase, his head buried in his hands. The bow and quiver of arrows lay by his side. The anger and power he had just an hour before was gone, replaced by tiredness and pain. Abigail slowly walked up to him. He looked so exhausted…

“Martin?” she asked, sitting down next to him. “Son?” The word felt old and unused in her mouth. She nearly croaked. “Are you alright?”

“Doubt it,” he sighed, running his fingers through his short hair. He looked up briefly. She followed his gaze. His eyes became unfocused as he stared at Luke’s body. “He shouldn’t have done it.” He shook his head, planting it once again in his hands. “I warned him that it would be suicide.”

“He did what he thought was right,” Abigail said, patting her son’s slumping shoulders. “He thought he was protecting you.”

“And that’s to console me?” Martin asked dully, turning his head slightly to look at her. She froze. What was wrong with him? Why was there no life in his eyes? He sighed, turning away.

“I’ve always been the one to risk my life for others,” he whispered. “I’m the extendable orphan, just another extra spy. People shouldn’t risk their lives for me.”

Abigail snorted. “I would beg to differ. You’re…”

“A Santer that has lied for the last year,” he spat out. “I’m not a prince. I’m a traitor to my name and my nation.”

“Your Majesty?”

Abigail looked up, surprised to see Commander Bentley standing there. “Yes?”

“We’ve completely taken the mansion back,” he reported, glancing at her son. “We’re safe.”

“Good,” she snorted. “Then let’s made sure everyone is alright…” She stood up. Perhaps something to do would break her son out of this strange self pity. “Come on, Martin. We still have work to do.”

“Um,” Bentley said, flinching. “He should get some sleep.” She frowned at him but said nothing, allowing him to go on. “He hasn’t slept in nearly two days,” Bentley explained. “I’m surprised he’s been able to do what he has.”

She gazed down at her son. He did look exhausted. “Is this true? You haven’t slept in two days?”

He shrugged, leaning back with a sigh. “Aeterna wouldn’t let me.” He yawned, tears coming to his eyes. “But everyone is safe again. They’ll let me.”

Abigail stared at him; she had known that the Spirit had been talking to him. She hadn’t realized just how much he had talked with it. “Alright,” she said. “We’ll get you in a bed.”

“The nearest couch would work,” Martin said, yawning again. “I’m about to drop off here.”

“There’s a sitting room nearby,” Bentley offered. “There are couches there.” He glanced down at the prince. “I don’t know if he’ll make it there though.” Abigail agreed. Together, she and the commander bent down and helped Martin to his feet. They carefully walked through the wreckage of the door and out into the main hall. The sitting room was close by, usually used for smaller parties. Once they got there, Martin collapsed on the nearest couch right by the door, falling asleep immediately.

Abigail examined the room. She was very familiar with it, having spent many nights with the Grelend family and Thomas enjoying the end of a long day. “Send someone for Duke Dawson and Lord Grelend,” she told the commander. “I’d also like to talk with the other commanders.”

Bentley nodded and walked back into the hall to find a runner. Abigail went over to another couch, picked off its blanket, and returned to the couch Martin collapsed on. She unfolded the blanket and draped it over him. He didn’t even stir.

He must be exhausted, she thought, gazing down at him. What had he meant before, when he said that Aeternan wouldn’t let him sleep? She couldn’t see why the Spirit would keep her son from sleep when he so obviously needed it. It just didn’t make sense.

Sighing, she decided that she couldn’t do anything about him now. He just had to sleep whatever it was off. She walked over to the fireplace and lit the fire. By the time she had it roaring, the ones she had summoned had arrived. While the commanders and Grelend looked tired, Thomas still had that haunting look about him.

“Answers, gentlemen,” she said sternly, sitting down next to the fire. “I want them.”

The commanders were quick to explain why Terk had managed to get control of the mansion. They were also as quick to explain what they had done to take the mansion back. Lord Grelend, as she knew, had nothing really to offer this conference. But she listened politely until it finally came to be Thomas’s turn. The young duke was sitting by himself, staring out the dark window.

“Thomas,” she said when it came to his turn.

“Yes?” He didn’t even look at her.

“You knew,” she said quietly. She didn’t need to say what he knew.

He sighed, sinking into his chair. “Yes. I knew. Luke did too.”

She had expected Luke, especially if Thomas knew too. “When did you learn?”

Thomas shrugged, still staring out the dark window. “We pulled it out of him about a year ago, when you found the glove. We asked him what was wrong and he told us. He didn’t believe it then.”

“When did that change?” Abigail asked. She needed answers and Martin was too tired to answer. In his current state, Thomas would be likely to answer the questions that she really wanted to ask Martin.

“At the Stand,” Thomas said in a dull tone, as if he were talking about something other than why the prince lied about his identity. “The mages who changed his face met up with him.” The duke paused, briefly glancing over to the sleeping prince. “He didn’t like talking about the encounter.”

“Was there anyone else who knew?” Abigail needed to know. Who else had been privy to this?

“Not many,” Thomas replied. “Commander Gillian.” Abigail vowed to have stern word with the prison commander. “A couple of his friends from the Stand. Fred Chief.”

“Fred Chief?” she asked, frowning. Why did she know that name? “The man…”

“Who brought Martin back from Loman,” Thomas finished. “Yes. But he didn’t know until just a few days ago himself. He got a letter from Commander Gillian about it and he told Martin that he had to reveal himself to you when he got back here.”

Abigail sunk into her chair, thinking. She really must meet this man who so obviously had an impact on Martin’s life. But that would have to be a matter dealt with later.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Martin?” she asked, changing the subject suddenly. “You’re a duke of this nation…”

“I was a simple spy when I learned about it,” Thomas said, his tone finally taking some heat. He turned to her, his expression grave. “What would you do, your Majesty, when you see your friend suffering from powers and an identity he knew nothing about? When you knew your friend had to fight for everything he has ever owned then suddenly find himself in a position of prince? I know what it is like to work hard for something, only to have it stripped away. How could I reveal my friend? How could I, knowing just how hard he had to work to get what he has? I couldn’t put him through that.”

Abigail blinked at the harshness in the duke’s voice. More than that, she was surprised by how passionately he talked about her son and how he had to work. She glanced at Martin. He still slept on the couch, oblivious to them. What did she know of this man? She knew he was the Alex, a dangerous spy. She knew he liked to keep busy, she knew he kept mostly to himself, not allowing people to get close. She barely knew of his childhood, other than he spent most of it on the streets of Loman.

But as she gazed at him, she realized something very profound.

“I don’t know anything about him?” she asked softly. “Do I?”

The commanders and Grelend were quick to argue.

“You’ve conducted interviews of all the men,” Bentley pointed out.

“You knew he was a spy,” another commander piped up.

“You said yourself that you like the young man,” Grelend added.

“No,” Thomas said loudly, drowning out any more protests. “You don’t know him.” The others turned to the duke, shocked that he would be so blunt about this matter.

Abigail nodded. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said. “For your honesty.” Thomas knew Martin better than her. Luke had too. They kept his secret because they knew him and what it meant to him.

Herself… He may be her son, but she didn’t know him at all.
**************
Martin couldn’t tell how long he slept. Once Aeterna finally released him to sleep, he felt as if the two days crashed into him and he knew he needed to sleep. He honestly couldn’t remember how he got on this couch or even how the blanket found itself draped over him. The last thing he remembered was a soft word from the Spirit.

“We’re sorry.”

The depression came crashing on his mind, overwhelming the last two days. Letting out a quiet sob, he opened his eyes. He was in a smaller sitting room. The fire was long dead and the light of an early morning was muted through the clouds that overhung in the sky. This, he supposed, was because of his depression. The land knew just how depressed he was.

He didn’t care.

Once again he found himself thinking the same thoughts he had in his cell before Aeterna took his depression away. What he had said to the queen last night was true. He was a traitor to his name and nation.

I shouldn’t even be a Santer, he thought bitterly, gingerly sitting up and rubbing the small of his back. How can the people trust me if I lie about my name?

He was half expecting an answer from Aeterna, but none came. It made him feel more depressed. The silence from the Spirit meant one thing. It agreed with him.

“We do not.”

I thought you were going to leave me alone.

“We’ll leave you to your grief,” Aeterna explained. “But we won’t abandon you.” The voice was gone. Martin snorted. Not abandon him, huh? What did it call this now?

Someone had left out some cold meat and bread on one of the end tables. He figured he should eat. When was the last time he ate a meal that wasn’t in a tent or on the road? He ate slowly, forcing himself to eat. He knew others would be so depressed that they wouldn’t eat, but he was just too hungry.

Besides, he didn’t want Aeterna to force him to eat as well.

Once he was done with his meal, he wondered where everyone was. Second nature made him open himself to the emotions. Strangely, everyone was back in the ballroom. Wondering, he crept out of the sitting room and crossed the hall. The grand doorway was still broken and he stepped inside. Nearly everyone was there. Servants, soldiers, nobles, those on the list. The queen stood on the stage, talking. The commanders, Lord Grelend, and Thomas also stood up there.

“I know the last day has been hard,” his mother was saying, her voice carrying over the crowd. “But I must ask that you do not relate any of this to anyone. My son is still in danger, and I fear that he will continue to be until we return to Nacre. So until you hear word of his return to the capital, I must ask that you do not speak of this event or him until then.” She stared at them, as if daring they try to disobey. Martin knew that everyone in the room would obey.

“Furthermore,” she went on, “with the discovery of my son, you will now all be able to return to your homes. Lord Grelend will organize your return. I wish all of you safe journey home and I hope all of you will have wonderful lives. Thank you.”

There was a small applause and the crowd started to disperse. Martin snuck back into the sitting room. He didn’t feel like talking with anyone, or having people stare, or hear those whispers. He was better off alone.

I’ve always been better off alone.
************
Whew! This was a long post. It was already long when I divided the story, but after editing, I added about two pages. Anyway, there you have it. They’ve taken back the mansion and Martin is seriously depressed. Now that I’ve effectively destroyed our hero’s life, what am I going to do to put it back together? That’ll be answered in next week’s post.

Now, odd question. As I’ve mentioned, my computer is being uncooperative. I won’t go into the small petty details of how slow it’s gotten, the random freeze moments, the problems it has with anti-virus and anything with the internet, so on and so forth. Now, I’ve been dealing with these problems since NaNo 2010, when it got a very ugly virus. It hasn’t been the same since. Now, over a year later, I’m getting really, really tired of it. I currently have a half decent job with acceptable paycheck, so I’m thinking of buying a new laptop as a graduation present to myself. Any recommendations for computers? I’m currently leaning towards an Apple, but I’m not too terribly excited about the price. I’m no computer nerd, I just want a machine that will do its job without too many glitches. And I want it to last. Foaly (my current laptop) has lasted a faithful four and a half years before limping this last year. I’d like to meet or top that. I’d like some laymen’s suggestions.

Until next week, enjoy the journey!