Honour

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

February 4

Early morning frost covered everything as far as the eye could see. It turned ordinary stone and brickwork into crystalline works of art. Emmett removed a single roll from his coveted leather pouch and inhaled the scent of rich leaves. A definite benefit of their travels: the finest tobacco, the sweetest rum, the best of the best at his beck and call, plucked from the freshest crops and the utmost top of barrels. Emmett leaned down to strike a match against the walkway and lifted it to the twisted end of the rolled tobacco.

“So do you care to tell me what that was all about?” Slow footsteps marked his father’s approach. “Since you have been avoiding me?”

Emmett didn’t make eye contact. “Of what do you speak, Father?”

His father had washed and shaved as well, Emmett noted as he drew up beside and stopped, sharing Emmett’s view of the street. Weatherworn and tired, as per usual, but still a decent looking man considering the lifestyle and the stress that his father usually carried on his shoulders; a burden Emmett knew had most likely grown considerably heavier since Emmett’s unfortunate run-in with a member of the monarchy.

“You know damn well of what I speak, son.” His father sighed. “A physical confrontation? On an unknown street? With unknown men? And for what? A cabin boy’s honour? Are you mad? Have you given in to some demon of which I have yet to know? Explain yourself.”

“Aleyn had done no wrong—”

“So?” His father’s eyes didn’t show the fury Emmett expected. Rather, true confusion lay within them. “What harm would there have been to anyone had the boy been thrashed about a bit? Have you so little concern for my business or your own family name?”

Emmett gritted his teeth. “The harm, Father, would have been to subject a boy that has already been through more than he deserves, to an unwarranted beating. Perhaps that means nothing to you but it means a great deal to me.”

A snort, a twist of neck muscles and a wry look found Emmett’s annoyed expression. “Surely, Emmett, you don’t fancy yourself to be in love with him?”

Emmett blinked, frowned, and tilted his head. “With whom?”

His father huffed, eyed Emmett and Emmett’s eyes flew wide. “Aleyn? God! No! Father, please.” Emmett clucked his tongue. “He’s just a boy. A boy who is displaced and alone and—”

“As are many others, Emmett.”

“But he is the one I know.” Emmett held his father’s gaze. “He is my friend.”

Emmett’s father shook his head and reached for the piece of rolled tobacco still clasped in Emmett’s fingers. He took the final pull on it and tossed the remainder into the street. “Emmett, your heart will be the death of you. There is no room in this world for weakness. Associates are better use than friends. What good does it do to worry after someone? That’s their war to fight. You should be worrying over you.”

“I am not like that, Father.”

A heavy pause weighted the conversation until Emmett’s father clasped a hand over his shoulder. “I know. And it is a damn shame.”

For a brief moment Emmett thought his father would pull him into an embrace. Instead, his shoulder was merely shaken and released. “Regardless, you should go back to the ship. Pull some decent clothes and cut your hair.”

Emmett looked up with a frown. “Wh—”

“We’ve been summoned to the castle. The guards will arrive at noon.”

Emmett stared, stunned. “But…wh—”

“I don’t know, Emmett,” his father sighed. “But do let’s try and make this a better impression, shall we?”

“Aye,” Emmett smoothed his hand over his hair to hide the roll of his eyes. “I’ll try.”