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The village of Galt was peaceful.
Perhaps that is what drew so many people to it. There was nothing
remarkable in its countryside. No fabulous ruins of an ancient
civilization with legends of promising forgotten treasure lured
adventures to the hills. No strange arcane towers jutted from the
wilderness begging people to wonder what occurred within the
sequestered walls. No castle of a feudal lord broke the horizon
reminding the peasants of the divine protection and the weekly
tribute demanded of them from some absentee ruler.
For the villagers of Galt, there was
nothing but placid farmland and serene wilderness branching out in
all directions. Nestled among the distant woods and sloping vales lay
other quiet settlements. Possibly as content as Galt but never as
pleased.
The villagers always maintained some
extraordinary tranquillity welled up from the land like some
miraculous brook they all savoured. But they needed no ghostly lights
or monuments to highlight it. They had the very villagers themselves
to attest to this strange power.
For whoever set foot in the small
village found it almost impossible to leave. Travellers were rare but
rarer still were those few that could resist the pleasant charms and
carefree spirit of the village. And no suspicion or doubt clouded the
minds of the residents. They welcomed each wanderer as if they were
some lost kin. And that hospitality brought more to roost than not.
Jeremiah knew his family came from
elsewhere. That much was certain with his family's darker complexion
and thicker frames compared to these pale, slight people. But
Jeremiah could count the number of times his strangeness was remarked
upon and usually such taunts were hastily reprimanded by the
offending youth's parents.
Jeremiah remembered little of where he
did come from. The youngest of his kin, his recollections of that
early time were little more than some shaky visions of a covered cart
and the whiff of some peculiar roasted meat. His mother never spoke
of that place and his eldest brother always hushed any questions of
their origins.
He was told, time and again, he was a
member of Galt. And for the Pitmans that was enough. Jeremiah had far
fonder memories of being educated in the local town hall than
whatever place actually gave birth to him. He could recall sermons in
the tiny parish and of rolling down green meadows surrounded by
colourful flowers. He loved the two hounds his mother let him keep,
the poor pups found one sunny afternoon lost in the wilderness.
Jeremiah took an interest in the power
of plants and herbal remedies. And while the situation that spurred
his study of salves and concoctions were tinged with bitter emotions
they landed him a respectable apprenticeship with the local
apothecary. And there was this lovely girl from the parish who made
him smile and feel all funny in his stomach. They laughed and played
beneath the maypole and frolicked in the quiet groves.
But that all ended when he arrived.
There was nothing auspicious about his
entrance. Much like others before, he had come quietly in the night.
Found sleeping in his mother's arms as she appeared humble before a
homestead pleading for a safe place to sleep. Perhaps the only
peculiar note was the scar she bore down her neck, a long and old
wound that hinted at a past to be fled.
But who in Galt didn't have some
ancient spectre they wished to be forgotten. So the mother was
welcomed and found the perfect place to raise her two children that
was both understanding and secure. Her eldest was a girl with long
brown hair and inquisitive eyes. She seemed to take to the village
and its ways quite willingly, laughing and playing with the other
children.
But her brother was the odd one. A dark
shadow seemed cast over his demeanour. He was quiet and reclusive and
sneered or turned away those that approached him. Only his sister
seemed to pierce that shield he'd raised about him. He seemed to
loathe the village and everything within. He was the single black
spot on a sunny day. He was the dark cloud that hovered in the
horizon as a portent of an encroaching storm. He was trouble and
Jeremiah would often wonder what cruel twist of fate bound his and
that boy's destinies together.
For the children Kait and Keirn were
the village's small trouble that they wished not to discuss. Their
pivotal years were filled with whispers and gossip. Never before did
Jeremiah hear of questions or concern over a strange arrival. Where
did this family come from and why did they come here, people
whispered. None would dare finish their thought or voice that one
idea that every one shared.
What would it take to get rid of them?
For even if the children were peculiar,
it was the mother that kept the villagers at bay. Jeremiah had little
interactions with the elder Faden but she was a formidable woman. It
would have been nothing for her to take control of the village,
assert her will and have all people bow before her directions. But
while she unnerved and cowed even the boldest man, she kept to
herself. Only when her children seemed threatened did some dark fury
bubble just beneath her eyes.
And none dare raise a weapon against
her. For one doesn't receive those scars by toiling in noble's
fields.
It was at Jeremiah's mother's
insistence that the boy approached the lad. She seemed convinced that
all the other boy needed was a friend and with that small gesture the
entire clan would ease gently into the simple village life. Their
first interactions were brief but it was his mother's vow that dark
night that convinced him to get close to the youth.
His persistence was rewarded. But only
just. While the young Keirn did finally allow the other boy into his
life, Jeremiah always knew he was kept at arms length. He didn't
recall his own past, but he wondered if the other boy did. And if it
were those memories that forced him to shut all others out.
But time passed and the boys grew
older. Then, out of the blue, Keirn announced he was leaving for the
strange Academy. Few knew what that meant, they were just happy to
see one of the Faden clan leave. Jeremiah felt sad and even slightly
betrayed by this sudden proclamation. But he was one of the few to
actually see the youth off. He could still remember his sister
quietly weeping as her brother shouldered his pack and headed down
that trail with nary a look back. Everyone, including his sister,
felt that this was the end of him. He'd gone and would never return.
And for that year and a half, the
village seemed much like Jeremiah remembered. Quiet. Peaceful.
Serene. Kait took the post at the town hall, schooling the younger
children in their letters and numbers. Jeremiah spent much of his
time with that red haired beauty.
But then he unexpectedly returned and
Jeremiah's life seemed like it would never be the same.
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