Aureole hills
Kaleb
I was walking into town— new Forestille— with Jeremy and I could not help notice people gaze at me. I needed to know what was going on. I was being tutted at, hissed at, gazed at and even when they knew I looked, gossiped about.
I needed to know what was wrong as their leader.
Days away from home wasn't as easy as frying a pancake, and even that wasn't very simple to many.
"We need no further confirmation! He's the one!" The voice of an adult released into the atmosphere, stimulating words to whirl around like a sqall. It earned my attention leading me to turn.
What in the river goddess' name was going on?
An ice-cold welcome after five days was even far more challenging than those encounters outside the Hills. I received an unappealing welcome, which I repeat was uncalled for. I couldn't help catch the glimpses my people attacked me with as I made way, striding.
My feet felt heavy as I at that instant and I wanted to ask even a single person the matter, but they all seemed horrified of me. What was going on? Again, I'd asked. I paused to discern the villagers. I failed to conceal my shocking expression—though I didn't mind and wasn't my intention.
The townspeople shudderd in obvious anxiety as I passed them one by one and I couldn't assimilate the unexplained theory. Why were their stares so intensely pointed at me? And my guess would be that whatever was occuring at that current era was dire.
I cleared my throat as Jeremy had noticed a lost in awe me. Astonishment dragged me to a room and abandoned me not.
"Is this your village?" an obvious rhetorical question was inquired of, in clear doubt and sent off a hidden mockery inside.
I held back in every of my thoughts, and I assure you, they were many. Jeremy paced behind me as I left the outdoors with quicker strides, steering towards my shack. Papa saw me as soon as I had entered the cottage, lying on the straw bed, having my amazing Berylene sit by him.
"Kaleb!" Fine copper shimmer haired Berylene wrapped her feminine hands around me with warmth. "Thank the goddess you're here."
Beryl's expression twisted into a frown as her eyes went on me once more. I feared a concealed sentiment. What was it? Instantly she pulled me back with interlocked arms on her chest. "The herbs," she said in a sweet tone but one could detect something bitter.
With a thudding heart, each beat containing love, I went to Pa's corner and observed his state. Grandfather, who was someone I loved so dearly, looked at me with his ever sunny smile that reached his eyes. I could fill in the happy ambiance of the place even when he was on his sick bed. I needed him alive and he wasn't going soon.
Beryl sighted a person. It was as though a thought to be something uncanny was in attendance here.
"Who are you?, And what are you doing here?" she interrogated.
It was Jeremy she had seen.
"He's not important right now." I asserted, yes, because Pa needed treatment first. Jeremy gaped indigantly at what I explained.
We dipped the leaf into water and then served Papa as soup. A cough followed afterwards. "I'm okay boy." the old man said. "There shan't be a drift between us." A reassuring smile was gifted.
I dropped the bowl on the ground, and had a flash back concernig how bad the Ivy venom had inflicted me back then with lack of ease, and now I was actually better.
The door of the little house whinned widely open and I saw Darla come in. Her eyes traced a little to Pa with a glint of worriness, but then turned back to me with a serious look.
A boy about my height, whom I remembered tutoring, also entered the place stealthily. He stood by the door with a wounded face, no, a wounded expression. Soldier Gallihead walked in seemingly slinky and had this malicious look on; just as the others had on their faces too. And now I was very certain something was amiss.
I was being escorted outside by the three, and I couldn't attempt to guess what misfortune had befallen on me this time. I was worried but bore patience as a virtue and as a head, I needn't panick.
"Speak." I implored, as we had now gotten outside the room.
Before I could even blink twice, an incredulous blow surpassed my agility. "Murderer!" Gallihead's howl struck deafness to my ears as he delivered a blood-spilling punch. "You killed my brothers! Our warriors!"
If I had the chance to think, I wouldn't still have been able to do so since this was unclear, yet spoken clearly to the ears— but I didn't. I was being beaten up by Gallihead as be punched me, and there was blood splashing out my face. I wanted to react but godess knew I was overwhelmed. Not a clue of what was the matter, yet suffered from endless strikes.
I pushed him violently off me and earned him a thump against the ground. A soar landing.
"What's the meaning of this savagery!?"
"Kaleb," I was soothed by the others. "We can talk this out. We just need you to speak in order to execute false accusations."
"What does he mean by I killed our people?! My own men?!"
"We need to clear the air." I could hear Darla's breath shake.
I walked towards the leaders hall and before I could reach there, tons of other Forelenes awaited me, clearly having disdainful looks. These were people I'd risk my life for a million times just for their safety and a smile on their cheeks. They took me in even after finding out I was a Rocainian but now I felt the worse was going to take place.
Chatters spread and distance was given and I could not get what was on their minds. I stood still on my ground, holding onto strength.
"Kaleb, remember, this is just trial and not the verdict." a tough looking Darla inspired.
I was being sent in.
"Order! Order!" a sense of deja vu welcomed me in as the table was slammed with a fist.
The mutters reduced a bit when everyone stood up and then sat back again on their seats. We were inside the council chambers.
"May I, in the name of the spirits, know what is happening here?" I didn't want to bellow. I swallowed it. My innocent look stuck, yes, of course, but my heart stiffened into a knot to avoid outburst pain. I needed to let my pride down.
"Chief Kaleb," a humble elder called. "we understand that you are just returning from a mission to acquire a wisdom leaf to save your father, but we have other ideas of where you may've been."
"What do you mean?"
"Where were you yesterday at dawn?" An interrogator questioned me.
Silent whispers surrounded the territory and I went on answering, "At East-Garden with a Gideon," I swallowed embarrassment to continue with my sentence, "at a wedding."
Scoffs went off and if I clearly heard, I'd say one blurted out 'fob'.
"Any troubles?"
"Kaleb, you're being accused of murdering innocent lives." Berylene struck me from the crowd. "Including Forelenes."
Another speaker, "May Gallihead step forward to narrate."
My head was foggy almost as if an imaginary thumping sound could be heard. I didn't flinch. Disgruntled Gallihead, whom I saw first by the lake, approached the centre and my eyes glued.
"My men were sent off to acquire more goods from the neighboring towns which we thought to make friends with. We needed help in the war. We were just there, Owen, I and the rest Forelene warriors, when this," Gallihead pointed at me. "attacked us. We were trying to talk with him but he attacked Luccas. I scurried off with shame I now feel. Rocainian warriors were being led by him, taking orders from him. We were surrounded by them and they seemed to have grown in number."
"Before Kaleb killed anyone, he asked them a question."
"Well, that's new." a Lorenzo claimed.
No emotion was welling up in me at the moment.
"Then how do you claim to have escaped?" the questioner went on.
Gallihead's voice went up hoarsely, "There wasn't any main plan! I just had to lie! My friends would've spoken, but they are dead now! Including some of the thought-to-be survivors!"
That stung me there in my heart. No…
"So you're saying you lied?" The questioner repeated. Gallihead turned to him and weird look was on his face. Even I was intrigued by the story plot. "How are we sure you're not lying now?"
"What was the lie?" Darla, in the crowd, played along, not too convinced.
Everyone was anticipating the answer, whilst the youngman busied himself with staring into my dead eyes.