The Truth Seeker Chapter One

The Truth Seeker: Chapter One


Sitting at his desk, Aveion chiseled away at the enormous amount of tedious inventory paperwork before him. His lieutenant’s tent spanned twice the size of his soldiers but it still only fit a desk, chair and fold out bed. The desk and chair came apart to fit into a traveling chest.

The new candle he had lit was now halfway melted when he finished the first series of lists. He sealed them with his signet, a wheat and a sword that formed an X. There was still a daunting pile of paperwork to get to but he needed to stretch his legs. Exiting the tent, he passed the sentry outside and the man stiffened and saluted. Aveion nodded and the soldier brought his hand down with a swish.

“How goes it Roddick?” he said to his long-standing.

“All is well, sir,” he replied.

“I’m going to check the lines. Make sure no one enters unless it is vital.”

“Yes, sir.” Roddick kicked his heels together and put his fist to his ear.

His company was charged with protecting the high ground of an area named, Bullon Hills. This stretch of land rolled, like waves and had become a strategic position to hold since it bordered Saltarun, a constant adversary.

This particular hill garnered the name, Grandfather’s Grave, since the blood of their grandfathers was spilled over it. It is one of the highest hills in this expanse and from its crest one could overlook miles in each direction, a vital strategic position.

Aveion patrolled the tents that formed perfect lines. Men gathered around fires and waited for their dinners to be cooked. His breath came out in puffs of smoke in the chill air.

The men quieted as he neared. However, he didn’t stop and they continued their idle banter after he passed.

The large red tents of the Brotherhood, rivaled his in size and stuck out among the small plain white ones of the soldiers. Men in varying degrees of red robes, which defined their class among the Brotherhood, busied themselves with chores. They paid him no mind.

Making a circle around the crest of the hill, he stopped periodically at the outposts, large wooden towers that held four archers and he made sure they were alert. As he finished his circle and arrived back to his tent, Roddick emerged through the flaps.

“Sir, a messenger has just arrived.”

“Thank you, Roddick.” Aveion lowered his voice. “Is it urgent?”

“I believe it is of a personal matter,” he whispered and positioned himself in his normal stance at the entrance of the tent.

Aveion entered and the messenger with sweat dripping off his face and panting, stood.

“Please sit,” Aveion said.

The young boy sat. He wore the standard messenger’s outfit, green tights with dark brown wool shorts and matching thick wool shirt. The boy fished out a letter from a black casing attached to his belt and handed it to Aveion.

The letter had seal of blue with the symbol of wheat on it, his family’s seal. He hadn’t received a letter from home for over five years.

“You’re excused,” he said. “Tell the gentleman outside to supply you with a meal.”

The boy rose and exited in silence.

Aveion sat at his desk and turned the letter over in his hand, pondering its contents . He had left home on bad terms and his father had stripped him of his last name, Plowman, the worst punishment a father could impart upon his son.

His father had intended him to go to the University and take over the family farm but halfway through schooling, he joined the military. Furious, his father had considered that Aveion had thrown away the responsibility of the eldest son to take over the family business for a career in killing.

Aveion’s grandfather had died in the war and his father had resented it. So he stripped Aveion of his last name and disowned him. Aveion Plowman became only Aveion to the rest of society. Loss of his last name brought a taint that carried over to the military; for him there were no further promotions with such a disgrace.

Aveion broke the wax seal and ripped the letter open. It was written in his brother‘s hand and said his father lay on his deathbed. If he wished to say his last words that he had better come home.

Aveion and his brother, Aleial were close even through the name removal. Aleial had tried valiantly to persuade their father to take him back but the old man’s stubbornness would not relent.

Time was running out. He had to make amends or he would regret it for the rest of his life. But it would be like fighting an opponent on higher ground. There would be plenty of work for him to take a leave. The first step was to set up an appointment with The Chamber and that would take a formal letter.

Aveion dipped his pen in the ink jar and started on the letter. Once he was finished, he asked for the messenger to take the letter to the nearest Chamber. The young boy entered with his face covered in gruel.

“Wipe your face, messenger,” said Aveion and tossed him a handkerchief. The boy placed the letter in the case on his belt and wiped his face with the cloth, extending it back to Aveion. “Keep it as incentive to get that message to the chamber as soon as you can.”

The boy bowed and exited. Aveion was sure that the leave would go through. He hadn’t taken one during his ten faithful years of service. That wasn’t the hard part; seeing his father again would be like climbing Mount Krendle.