As the sun dipped low beneath the horizon and stars began to shine in the cloudless sky, Arvenus found himself in the village tavern in the company of his most treasured friends. He watched Analin, who had contented herself with Yarnus' company, despite the reservations that Arvenus still harbored. For his part, Yarnus seemed detached, if a bit morose. Arvenus couldn’t be sure if Analin had broken the news to him yet, but he was fairly certain that if Yarnus knew the truth of it, he wouldn’t have remained.

“Everyone,” Arvenus called, lifting his stein of mead. He waved Analin to his side, and she slipped through the small crowd to be with him.

“Firstly, I want to thank you all for coming,” he continued. “I know these last few days have been difficult. They have been difficult for all of us. We have suffered through too many moons of crop plague, and now our stores run even lower because of this awful raid.”

There was a somber silence that followed his words. Buried within it was the knowledge of everything they had lost and the knowledge that their survival was threatened because of it.

“I have spoken with our landlord myself,” he added, nodding in Daron’s direction. “And in response to all we have suffered, we have decided to bolster what security remains to us. Nightly watches will take place, an assurance that while we as a village are at our most vulnerable, we will not be helpless. The estate bell will be used to indicate when and where trouble arises, should it be necessary. May the Gods show us mercy in the days to come.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the group that had gathered. Arvenus saw his mother and father nodding along with his words, their faces pensive and drawn.

“But we cannot allow our recent hardships to make us forget all of the good that still remains in the world,” he said, and the ripple of whispers before him ceased. “For even in the darkest of times, some light may still be found.”

He turned to his wife, her eyes shining.

“Do you wish to tell them?” he asked her quietly. She flashed a sheepish smile.

“You go on, dear,” she prodded. He noticed with some satisfaction that she had already taken to resting her hand on her belly. He reached his hand across her front and rested his hand atop hers.

“As you well know,” he continued, turning his attention the crowd. “Analin and I have been trying for some time to expand our family. And, while I admit it has been fun…” uproariously laughter rang through the crowd gathered before them. Arvenus couldn’t help but join in, much to the dismay of his wife. “Though it has taken a good deal of time,” he amended, gathering their attention once more. “Analin and I are pleased to say that at long last, she is with child.”

Shouts of encouragement and the echo of sharp applause seemed to fill the room. Words of congratulations were hurled towards them from every corner, but Arvenus had eyes only for Yarnus. He watched his brother’s face; watched the way his expression changed abruptly from shock to anger. His cold eyes held the shadow of hatred buried within them, a hatred and longing so intense it was as though Arvenus could feel it in the space between them.

As Analin soaked in the adulation and warmth around her, Arvenus watched Yarnus slip toward the back of the tavern. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have noticed his brother disappearing behind the crowd, walking out the door, and, at last, out of sight.

“I’m so happy for you,” Lanika whispered, capturing his attention. She leaned close and his lips brushed her cheek as he embraced her with one arm, the other still holding his drink.

“Thank you, Lanika,” he smiled. “If I was being honest, I would tell you that I feel a tad relieved.”

“How so?”

Arvenus pursed his lips. “After all this time… I must confess, I was beginning to wonder if it would happen for us. If… If perhaps there was something wrong with me or with Analin, which would have made it impossible for us to conceive.”

Lanika chuckled. “Trust me, son. You are of sturdier stock than you know, and Analin is the picture of health. It would have happened for you, one way or another. All it takes is time.”

“Aye,” he conceded. “I suppose that’s true, but no matter, we are with child at last, in no small part thanks to you and Daron. I don’t think I ever did thank you for your help in all this.”

Lanika waved away his words. “You are like a son to us now. And there is nothing we wouldn’t do for the happiness of our kin. All we ask is that you remember our generosity when we are too old and broken to care for ourselves,” she laughed. “And don’t put us out to pasture too quickly.”

“Never,” Arvenus agreed with a grin.

He felt a tug on his arm then, and turned to Analin, an unspoken question hanging on his lips.

“Where is Yarnus?” she asked, casting about in a frantic sort of way. She gripped his arm tighter with each passing second of her search. Arvenus pushed the sudden irritation, the jealousy he felt, down inside him, stowing it away in the deepest reaches of his mind.

“He stepped away shortly after the announcement,” Arvenus bristled. “He is not happy for us. He does not wish us to have a baby, Analin. Surely you could see that from the moment we returned?”

“I do not see it,” she snapped back. “Please, will you find him and bring him back? I wish to speak with him about everything. Perhaps I can assuage some of the hurt he feels.”

Arvenus bit back the retort hot on his tongue. He saw the worry on his wife’s face and tried to imagine that it was nothing more than sisterly love she harbored for Yarnus. Surely a sister would be just as concerned for a missing brother as Analin was for Yarnus?

He relented with a sigh. “If it pleases you, wife, then I will find him.”

Without another word Arvenus slipped from her side, wending through the people still gathered around them. He disappeared into the cool evening air and breathed deep, allowing it to settle his soul. He traced a path back from the tavern towards the home of his parents, the farmstead he had once shared with them and his brother.

They had never been close, he and his brother. Yarnus had always harbored a bitter jealousy from the time he was a child. Perhaps it was because Arvenus had the privilege of having a beautiful face; a face that earned him much love and attention from their peers. Perhaps it was the way Arvenus seemed to breeze through life’s challenges, while he himself suffered and struggled through daily pain. Whatever the reason, a deep resentment had grown within him, one that Yarnus had clearly never quite been able to shake. Arvenus, in turn, had despised his brother much of his life. Yarnus had been a complicated and sickly child, one who needed much attention and care. Their mother had cared for him endlessly, leaving Arvenus to tend the fields with his father.

Lost in the memories of his childhood, Arvenus trudged on through the night until a whinnying sound stopped him in his tracks. He paused, scouring the darkness for any signs of where the noise had originated. The stamp of an impatient horse sounded, followed by another loud whinny. From the gate that led to his parents’ home, a horse burst forth. Even in the darkness, Arvenus recognised the figure that rode hard toward the edge of the village.

It was Yarnus.

Arvenus watched his brother disappear into the night, slipping free of the village like a wraith. For a moment he stood there, staring at the empty space before him. He wondered how he might break the news to Analin. He didn’t want to upset her, especially now that she was with child. Yet he felt her hurt was unavoidable. And despite the sadness he knew his brother’s leaving would cause, Arvenus couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

“Maybe now things will be better,” he muttered to himself as he turned back toward the tavern. “Maybe now she will focus only on us and our baby.”

He stalked the darkened streets, less than eager to return. Yet far too soon he found himself back at the tavern. Analin waited impatiently outside, a hopeful yearning on her face. She embraced Arvenus on his return, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered in his ear. “Where’s Yarnus?”

Arvenus sighed, gently pushing his wife away.

“He’s gone, love.”

Confusion knitted her brows and she stared at him, disbelieving.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s gone, Analin. He packed up and left town. I saw him as he rode away.”

She spluttered, her mind reeling. “Well, did you try to stop him?” she asked, pleading in her voice.

Arvenus said nothing. He stared at his wife for a moment before pulling her into his arms. She was rigid, her movements stiff and disinterested.

“Did you argue with him?” she accused quietly, pulling away. “What did you say to make him leave town?”

Arvenus scoffed. “I said nothing to him. I didn’t have the chance. By the time I made it to my parents’ house he had already packed his things, mounted, and was gone. I didn’t even have time to shout his name.”

“But you wouldn’t have, anyway,” she whispered, “Would you? Isn’t this exactly what you’ve wanted all along? And now you expect me to believe that you had no part in it? That you did nothing to sway his decision one way or another?”

She turned away from him, her curls bouncing as she shook her head. “I’m no fool, Arvenus. I know you’d rather he not be here. And what a better time to force him away, than when he is feeling devastated and alone. I knew he would need me, that’s why I asked you to find him, but you’ve done this instead.”

Arvenus felt the embers of anger stoke inside him, and try though he might, he could not stop the harsh, biting way his words sounded.

“I have done no such thing,” he spat at her. “Nor would I. It may be no secret that I find your relationship with Yarnus damaging, but when I promised you I would try to be better, I meant it. The last thing I want for you in this condition is to feel any anguish or dismay. I want no harm to come to you. That’s why, despite my pride, I went to search for Yarnus in the first place. I only want for you to be happy, wife. The fact that you think so little of me says more than your words ever could.” Arvenus shook his head, broken with emotion. He felt his throat tightening, a lump forming there as he swallowed. Without saying another word, he spun away from her and set off back to Daron’s mansion alone.

During the fortnight that followed Yarnus leaving town, Arvenus tended the fields behind his parents' farmstead together with his father, scrambling to harvest the remaining crops before the first bites of winter took hold. Without Yarnus, they had to do the work of three men with just the two of them. And now that their bodies had become thoroughly broken and bruised, at last the end was in sight.

The aching in Arvenus’ muscles only grew as the day wore on. Thick droplets of sweat lingered on his brow in the unseasonable heat, and he found himself wiping his face over and over.

“These damned crops,” Vrayim cursed under his breath. He gripped the stalk near the base and gave a hard tug. The root gave way, pulling up easily, its fingers hanging limp and lifeless as they were torn from the dirt. Arvenus glanced at the stalk in his father’s hand. Great swathes of black mold could be seen across the length of the stem, along with brown bruising running along the body. “This plague will ruin us,” the farmer muttered.

Arvenus shook his head in disbelief. Their wagon was filled to the brim with sacks of healthy wheat and corn, but next to it, mashed in the dirt, lay an equal amount of crops spotted with disease and death. “That’s half of the day’s work gone to waste,” he said.

“Aye,” his father agreed, spitting on the ground. “All we can do is continue on and hope it doesn’t get worse. Come, it’ll be dark soon,” he murmured, his gaze fixated on the ever-lowering sun. “We won’t see this done today.”

“We never do,” Arvenus murmured, thankful his words were quiet enough that his father couldn’t hear them. The dull ache in his back had become a persistent, nagging soreness that beckoned for rest.

“Best to take what we have back up to the barn,” his father continued. Together, they pulled the wagon through the dirt back onto the road and in the direction of the barn. “How is Analin doing?” Vrayim asked. The wagon’s wheels creaked behind them, a rhythmic squeal that kept time with their footsteps.

“She’s well,” Arvenus nodded. “But she has insatiable cravings. Analin seems to think the baby has my appetite.”

Vrayim laughed. “May the Gods help the poor woman if it does. The village had never seen a baby as big as you when you were born. What’s more, you never quite stopped growing. Even now you’re getting wider and wider by the day, since the start of the harvest.”

Arvenus chuckled. “Analin certainly doesn’t seem to mind,” he said with a smirk. His father’s ensuing laughter bounded across the fields on either side of them, dissipating into the empty sky.

They continued their easy conversation as they plodded down the path that led to Arvenus' parents' home. As they rounded the last bend and brought the wagon to a halt, Yadevil stepped out onto their porch, wringing her hands dry on her apron.

“Well met, boys,” she called, beaming at them. “I’ve got a fresh jug of water and two steins of mead waiting for you.”

“Your mother’s a saint,” Vrayim whispered out the side of his mouth. “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

Arvenus nodded conspiratorially, trying to hide a grin. As Vrayim headed toward the house, Arvenus finished up with the crops. He dragged the sacks of wheat and corn from the wagon to the barn, stacking them against the rows of hay bales that already filled the large space from floor to rafters.

The sky was dark when he was finished, and he made his way into the house, kicking away his boots that were caked in mud. He joined Vrayim, Yadevil, and Analin in the sitting room, taking a place next to his wife with a groan.

“You’d think you were an old man, so heavily do you moan,” Analin teased. Arvenus smiled and reached across her shoulder to rest his hand on her belly.

“I work from sunup to sundown, wife,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “And then I work some more on the watch. I work longer and harder than men half my age. Let me be to groan, if I would.”

She laughed and placed her hand atop his, toying with his fingers.

“She’s growing big and strong in there,” he murmured.

“He’s growing to be big, like his father,” she countered. “You might be the only man I’ve met who hopes for a daughter before a son.”

“I am surrounded by strong, independent women,” Arvenus grinned with a shrug. “I should be lucky to have a daughter that is the same. And,” he whispered, leaning closer, “I have it on good authority that I have a… certain charm with women.” Arvenus waggled his eyebrows at her, and she howled with laughter.

“You have always been popular with the women in town,” Yadevil agreed, the corners of her lips lifted in a small smile. “Much to your brother’s chagrin.”

At the mention of his brother, Arvenus stiffened. He felt the way Analin’s arms grew rigid against his, and he quickly untangled himself from her.

“Has there… has there been any word from him?” Analin asked with a studied nonchalance. He watched her face - a pleasant, if blank, mask, but her fingers picked at the hem of her sleeve; the only outward sign of her inner turmoil.

“None, I’m afraid,” Yadevil said with a sigh. “Not knowing where he is makes me sick with worry.”

“You worry far too much,” Arvenus replied, trying to keep his tone light. He took a sip from his mead.

“Arvenus is right,” Vrayim said. “Yarnus is a smart lad, Yadevil. He must have gotten that from your side of the family.”

Yadevil chuckled, the ghost of a blush in her cheeks.

“And Arvenus got his good looks from your side,” she jested.

Arvenus watched his parents for a time as they traded joking barbs. His father was thicker about the middle than he had been, his hair whiter and thinning on the top. His mother had thinned with age, her skin wrinkled about the eyes and the mouth. The hallmarks of a life lived in joy. Yet now, those same lines were drawn with worry, the edges of them downturned in sadness.

“We should send for him. Or try to write to him at least,” Analin suggested.

“But we haven’t got a clue where he is,” Yadevil said. “If it were so simple we would have already sent Arvenus to collect him.”

“Still… there must be some way to send word to him? Wasn’t there that inn in Mano that he used to visit often?” Analin pressed, leaning forward away from her husband. “He’s made his point. He’s had time to think things through, to lick his wounds, and to heal. Now he should come home again.”

Yadevil gave her a sad smile. “The truth of the matter is, he’s a grown man. He’ll return to us when he’s ready, and not a moment before.”

“You must watch the pride of men,” Vrayim interjected with a grin, nodding towards his son. “And we in this family are perhaps the most prideful. It makes us stupid when we’re angry. Or hurt. We do things we shouldn’t, and then it takes us all the longer to come to terms with the idiotic thing we did when we were angry. So, try to give him some grace and let him be. Yadevil is right. Yarnus will come home when he’s ready.”