The White Hart Inn | Village of South Mimms:
When Morven finally reached the front of the inn, he spotted Marcus waiting under the overhanging eaves, sheltered from the downpour.
Morven gave a faint, weary smile.
"Where are the horses?"
Marcus stared at him for a moment.
"You told me to bring them here yourself—so the stable hands could take them!"
Morven blinked, then chuckled softly.
"Ah… yes, yes. My mind wandered."
Marcus eyed him with mild surprise but said nothing more. With a puzzled smile, he followed Morven inside.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Morven's eyes fluttered shut. His legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the stone floor of the inn's common room.
Marcus dropped to his knees beside him in alarm.
"Master!"
The handful of patrons in the lower hall exchanged startled glances, then hurried over.
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A Dream from the Past (5)
Autumn | 8 December 1777 | Morning:
Morven had only lifted the lid of the small wooden box halfway—peering curiously inside—when his tutor suddenly snatched it away and snapped it shut.
Before Morven could protest, a stern voice echoed from the doorway.
"I told you to clean. Why did you bring my son here?"
At the sound of his father's voice, Morven instantly ducked behind his tutor.
The tutor sighed, glanced around the dusty storeroom, and replied calmly,
"There's rather a lot of dust. I thought it might be helpful to bring your second son along as an assistant."
Edmond Blacktide, standing framed in the doorway, surveyed the cluttered space with narrowed eyes.
"You could have asked the servants for help…"
The tutor offered a gentle smile.
"If that were an option, you wouldn't have ordered me—a tutor—to clean the storeroom like a servant."
Edmond stepped forward. In the dim light, his dark red eyes gleamed faintly with an eerie crimson glow.
"Do you… have a problem with my instructions?"
The tutor broke eye contact, lowering his gaze.
"N-no, my lord. I only meant… I needed assistance."
Edmond exhaled in quiet irritation and extended his hand.
"Give me that box."
The tutor's hands trembled. He hesitated—torn between obeying the master of the house and protecting the excitement he had seen in young Morven's eyes.
Edmond's voice rose, sharp and commanding.
"I said—give me that damned box!"
With shaking fingers, the tutor handed it over and bowed deeply.
"Yes, my lord…"
Edmond Blacktide took the box without another glance, turned, and left the storeroom.
The tutor clenched his fists in silent frustration—until he felt a small hand pat his back gently.
He turned to find Morven smiling up at him.
"It's all right… I know Father can be frightening."
Overcome with lingering fear, the tutor sank to the floor and stared at the boy.
"…Thank you, child."
Morven gave him a mocking little grin.
"See? You're the one sitting on the floor from fear. I'm still standing!"
The tutor raised an eyebrow.
"Weren't you the one hiding behind me a moment ago?"
Morven scratched near his right eye innocently.
"Who? Me…? I don't recall!"
The tutor burst into quiet laughter.
"One day you'll remember!"
Morven and his tutor looked at each other for a long moment—then both smiled and laughed softly together.