A Hero's Ballad: The Knightmare

     ~X~

     When Lisha’s wand stopped glowing on its own, the three Neopians above her collapsed into a heap, with Serian on bottom. With the spell broken, the magical energy from their core coalesced back into their bodies, removing the formally eerie green aura from the room.

     Before they could express their fears that something went wrong, “that wasn’t me,” Lisha reassured them, “the spell wore off on its own.” She then sucked in her breath at the sight of the Neopian dogpile. “Yikes. You guys okay?”

     “Ow…” Serian whined as he shifted his arm from an awkward angle, “not really.” The Darigan’s thick black mane caught most of Kayla’s weight no problem, but Danner and his metal armour were another thing entirely. The iron plate armour pushed heavily against his back and shoulders. He pushed Danner off unceremoniously, sending the knight rolling to the ground. Freed from the spell, the knight reacted with little more than a groan of exhaustion; his eyes had shut and his breathing had slowed as he began to snore. Despite being the most alert of the trio, Serian still looked like he was hit by a lifedrain spell. He cracked his back and shoulders loudly. “Argh, my aching everything.”

     Kayla tumbled to the side, letting out a rolling yawn as she did. “SOooOOooorry about that, Seriaaaaaan.”

     “It wasn’t you,” he said, now flat on the ground with his arms sprawled out. “You aren’t fifty pounds of metal on top of well-built Wocky weight.” Raising his chin from the ground, he added, “but enough about that. How are they?”

     “Jeran’s looking calm and is breathing normally—now, anyway.” For a few minutes, everyone was in a state of panic when the Lupe was in obvious distress. He had been shouting something about Lord Kass, which greatly upset the former Kass General. Not that the Meridellians dared to bring it up since.

     “Think he’ll be okay when he wakes up?” Serian’s face was unreadable. “It sounds like he’s been through…” he struggled for the right words, “an ordeal.”

     Lisha rubbed at her arm, unsure of what to say. “He… he probably has.”

     “Especially if… well. If he was involved.” The Eyrie’s heart sank. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of bringing up any memories of…” his talons dug into his flank, “that Neopian.”

     “Probably a good idea,” Lisha said quietly, squeezing with the now silent wand in her hand.

     “A really good idea.” Kayla leaned against the table, her ears flopping against the wooden surface. “When he’s ready to talk about it… we’ll be there.”

     “Yeah. I agree.”

     Serian looked like he wanted to say something, but refrained from it. The three puttered about wordlessly before Lisha spoke again.

      “At least they’re not under the potion’s effects anymore, so they should wake up on their own soon.”

     “I hope so, Lisha.”

     There were a few seconds more of awkward silence as they watched the duo for any bit of motion.

     When they stood there fidgeting too long for comfort, Serian let out a loud cough. “Maybe—and bear with me here—maybe we just shake them awake. Speed up the process.”

     Lisha did not look amused. “Dude. You saw what happened when Jeran did to poor Sir Rohane. You really think shaking either of them—especially our easily spooked brother—is going to do anything besides making him really mad?”

     “And possibly give them both a concussion,” added Kayla.

     “That, too.”

     The Darigan shrugged. “It would get us the desired results? Better than just staring at them waiting for something to happen.” He began to fiddle with his fingers. “Because all this waiting has me on-edge.”

     It was then that the three of them heard the covers rustle. Jeran stirred slightly, his snout wiggling.

     “Jeran!” cried Lisha, all too ready to give him a giant hug. And then he sneezed in her face. “Bleh, gross!” She frantically wiped the spit off with her sleeve. Kayla rustled through her pocket and tossed her a handkerchief, which Lisha gratefully caught and used.

     “Sorry,” the Lupe said it automatically before crinkling his nose. “Ugh. Your feet smell, Rohane,” he nearly gagged as he cracked his eyes open. “They really, really do. It’s a miracle I’ve stayed asleep this long.”

     “Your feet smell worse, Sir.” Rohane had yet to open his eyes; his mouth was an unamused line.

     “That insult is insubordination.” There was the slightest of smirks on Jeran’s face. “You know there’s only one way to fix this.” He paused dramatically. “You and me. One-on-one. The duelling grounds.”

     Rohane clicked his tongue. “Any time you want to lose, I’m ready.”

     Kayla rose a brow before dragging her hand across her face. “The first words out of your mouth are arguments and a duel challenge. Seriously, guys? Not ‘thank you?’ Not ‘hey, let’s be best friends!’” On the last line, she imitated the two men’s low, deep voices. This caused the previously apprehensive Eyrie to burst into unbridled cackles.

     “Definitely not the second one,” deadpanned Rohane.

     “For once, Rohane and I agree on something. And cork it, Serian.”

     “Never,” he gave a trollish wink. “That impression was spot-on.”

     “Why do you all gotta be like this?” said Kayla tiredly. “Why can’t we just get along?”

     “Because—"

     Lisha skidded on the floor between the two knights and leaned her body against Jeran. “Hi there, Bro.”

     “Hi, Lisha.” He said it with a tinge of sass. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

     “Neither of you are duelling until you’re fully rested, sister’s orders. You two need R&R.”

     The Lupe yawned broadly, circling his arms up above the couch. “But duelling is R&R, Lisha, so your ‘orders’ are null and void.”

     The Aisha puffed up her cheeks in annoyance. “I say it ‘cause I’m worried.”

     “I know…” He squeezed her side and pulled her closer, “and I appreciate it, Lisha. You know that.”

     Rohane turned his head down to meet the mage’s gaze. “I also appreciate the concern, but more rest is the last thing I need right now.” He then regarded Kayla. “I haven’t felt this well-rested in weeks; your potion worked wonders.” He grabbed the blankets and pushed them back. “Thanks for all your help.”

     “It did?!” The potionsmaster looked utterly flabbergasted; she studied his face for any indication of sarcasm, but he seemed sincere. “B-but I—but you—but it was—a-are you sure? Like, really, one-hundred-percent sure?”

     “Well, yes.” He propped himself up, stretching out his stiff back in the process. “Wasn’t that what was you intended?” Rubbing his eyes, he noticed the snoozing knight on the ground. “Wait. What happened to him?” Danner had been snoring loudly with his mouth wide open; his face now soaked in a pile of drool. “To all four of you, actually; you’re the ones who look exhausted, not us.”

     “Speak for yourself,” said Jeran, who had bags under his eyes.

     “Not me, anyway.”

     Kayla rose to a shaky standing position, catching herself before stumbling over. “A couple of probably dangerous, experimental potions, including an energy share potion and…” her voice trailed off as Lisha averted her gaze, “but that’s all in the past now. The important thing is that you’re both okay.”

     Serian sighed deeply, his eyes flashing an icy blue. “That’s the important part, yes…”

     “But really, though,” Lisha lowered her voice to a whisper, “I’m so glad you’re okay…” Now that Jeran seemed more awake, Lisha clung to him tightly. Jeran returned her strength with gentleness as the two held each other for a bit.

     Until Serian broke the silence.

     “Actually… I have a question,” asked the Darigan, who had since dusted himself off and sat casually atop the work desk, his legs crossed. When Lisha shot him a glare, he added, “it’s something harmless, don’t worry.”

     But given Serian’s habit of being an unabashed troll, both were immediately concerned.

     “And what’s that, Serian?” asked Rohane, his voice even.

     “Who’s this ‘liar squire’ that you”—he gave a curious smirk towards the Blumaroo—"squealed about in a really high voice? Is it someone I know? When I was”—he cleaned his throat—“lying down, I heard it being said from across the room.”

     Both Jeran and Rohane shared a panicked glance. A crimson flush crept up their faces. It was well known that Rohane was a terrible liar. Everyone knew it. His ear would twitch incessantly like a built-in lie detector. Not once had he won a game of Cheat; even the weakest of players could read him like an open book. Then again, Jeran was not much better. The only Neopian he could beat at Cheat was Rohane.

     “Them? No one!” Jeran’s voice jumped higher. “A total stranger.”

     “He’s no one in particular.” Rohane’s ear twitched. “Never met the guy before then.”

     The Aisha twisted her mouth to the side as she tried to imagine who this “liar squire” could be or why they would be in Rohane’s nightmares. Pretty much the only squire he’d have known growing up would have been his father’s, which—she cupped her hand over her mouth. It had been Jeran. But why would a grown Blumaroo use such a term? She chose to play dumb for both of their sakes. Probably a question neither of them wanted to answer.

     “Oh yeah?” The Darigan tapped the wooden desk with a talon and leaned in. “Is that so?” He thought to himself for a few seconds before adding, “so, let me get this straight: you met a stranger that you called the ‘liar squire.’”

     “Yes.” Twitch.

     “What did ‘this guy’”—Serian added air quotes—"do, play tricks? Or was it… something else”

     “No.” Rohane responded levelly while Jeran tried to give “subtle” cues about what he should or shouldn’t keep in his story, which had been as subtle as the flashing levers and knobs on a Virtupets spaceship. He tapped one finger against his opposite hand, which was held in a peace sign. “He was…” Rohane squinted at Jeran’s gestures, “showing us some magic? Directed at monsters.” Jeran couldn’t help but hold his palms up in frustration. His brows furrowed as he tilted his head against the couch. An audible sigh escaped from his lips.

     “Magic?” asked Kayla, trying and failing to comprehend. “So, he was like, a mage’s apprentice?”

     “Yeah, that’s it,” butt in Jeran, as cold sweat ran down his neck. “It was a completely uneventful, mundane dream about a squire… who didn’t tell us he was actually a mage’s apprentice.… and that’s why he was the liar squire,” he finished weakly.

     Rohane sunk back into the couch, wishing sincerely that he could disappear into its upholstery. Every ounce of his being silently screamed “I have ceased to be.”

     Both ladies opened their mouths to say something, but Serian beat them to it.

     “Somehow I have trouble believing that.” The Darigan crossed his arms impatiently before a flash of realization hit him. A devious grin spread across his face. “Waaaaait a second, did something embarrassing happen with this squire? Is that why you’re being so vague?”

     “No.” Both knights answered it a little bit too quickly.

     Rohane’s ears might have been flapping; he was fully cognizant of how ridiculous he looked. For someone normally so calm, he was a sweaty, nervous mess—they both were.

     “Beyond doing mundane stuff, we were… what else were we doing, Jeran?” The Blumaroo thanked Skarl that none of his adventuring friends were around to see this. Not that they would make fun of him—quite the opposite, in fact. But it would be horribly embarrassing all the same.

     The look of disdain that flashed across the senior knight’s face was palpable. “We were… we were…” he grasped at words until his eyes rested on a decorative sword that hung on the wall, “duelling.”

     Rohane managed to keep composed despite very nearly exclaiming “what?!”

     “Duelling?” Kayla gave them a befuddled look while Lisha just covered her face with her palms as if to say, ‘I can’t watch this anymore.’

     “Yeah, duelling. Rohane said he could win, which he—”

     “Did,” he shrugged, not missing a beat, “every. Single. Time.”

     Jeran let out a forced laugh. “Well fine then, Rohane. If that’s how you want to play… you could say the matches were all staged.”

     “Don’t you dare.”

     “On that note, we were both very attuned to the duel. We could hardly give it a rest”

     The Blumaroo’s voice was low and dangerous. “You’re daring, Jeran.”

     “Okaaay,” Lisha cut in, holding a book in the space between them, “this is all getting a bit too weird and cryptic for me.”

     “Like, what’s up with all the music puns?” Kayla twirled a finger through her fur. “I thought Rohane didn’t like music?”

     “I don’t.”

     “He doesn’t.”

     Both knights said it in unison.

     “Duly noted,” said Serian, before throwing his hands behind his head. He clicked his tongue on the roof of his large, black bill. “At least tell a proper story next time. It wasn’t consistent; quite amusing, though.”

     Lisha coughed and pressed a hand on her brother’s tense shoulders before he could cause any trouble. “What my big bro’s trying to say is that no matter what happened in Rohane’s dream, whether it was boring or a duel or…” she hesitated, “something else, when you feel okay with sharing, we’ll be here for you.”

     Serian pointed to Lisha. “That’s what I meant to say, yes.”

      “You just have a funny way of showing that you care, Serian.”

     The Eyrie put a finger to his bill and playfully shushed her. “They can’t know I have a heart, Lisha—it’d ruin my reputation.” But after a brief pause added a sheepish, “but it is good to have you both back. Meridell would be very dull without you two.”

     “Thanks… I think,” said Jeran, followed shortly by Rohane.

     Rohane then hopped off the couch and stretched his neck from side to side. “Well, I don’t know about you, Jeran, but I think a duel would be the perfect way to wake myself up after a good night’s sleep. What do you say? Just the two of us in the rose courtyard.”

     At first, he scrunched his nose. “Don’t you mean the practice grounds? Why would we go to the rose courtyar—oh. OH.” He slapped his forehead. In the background, Lisha was deep in thought. “Yes. I think that would be a great idea. I have a match to win, after all.” With no warning, he jumped up, and his legs caved from beneath him. He flopped over like a fish at the market, gripping his stiff legs as a thousand sharp sensations spread over them. “Oww… after the pins and needles wear off.”

     Before Rohane could jump in, both Kayla and Lisha mobilized with their hands outstretched. “Need some help?”

     “Thanks, ladies,” he grabbed both of their hands and pulled himself up, “and no thanks to Serian.”

     “Oof.” The Eyrie pantomimed being struck by a dagger. “You wound me. Not even a moment’s hesitation there.”

     “Why would there be?” the knight shrugged, attempting to pass it off as a joke with a smile on his lips, but there was a bite to his words. Before long, as the pain subsided, his air of joviality had vanished. “Rohane and I have a rematch to square away. We’ll be back later, but…” he hesitated, his face unreadable, “don’t follow us.”

     “Why would I?” said the Eyrie, unusually serious. “My eternal rival doesn’t want to spar, so I’m uninterested. You two take care of what you need to.”

      “And I know this is important to you both but…” Kayla fiddled with her wide-brimmed hat, “be careful, okay? You’re both still recovering.”

     “We understand, big bro.” Lisha squeezed Jeran’s hand. “If you ever want to talk about your duel, I’m here. I’m all ears.”

     The Lupe tussled his sister’s short fur, making it stand on end. “I’m not sure about all ears, but four is plenty.”

     Lisha readjusted her glasses as they had slid from her face. “Aww, Jeran, not in front of everyone. I’m not a kid anymore.”

     “But you’ll always be my kid sister.” He gave her a strong side hug. “Thanks for all of your ears.”

     From beside the desk there came a long, echoing yawn, followed by the half-asleep, barely conscious words of Sir Danner. “You’re okay? Great! Good. I’m so…” he yawned again, before turning to the side, “I’m glad, Sirs.”

     Lisha bent down towards the Wocky and gave him a light nudge. He responded with a quiet grunt and “five more minutes, mother…” pulling his sleeve towards himself like a blanket.

      “We’ll take care of him.” Her voice was gentle. ”You two go and be meatheads.”

     The two knights bristled at the phrase, but accepted it begrudgingly nonetheless.

     ~X~

     Since their ordeal in the dream world, an entire day had passed. A serene sunset was setting in the sky, painting the lush courtyard amber. Even the brightest of roses seemed to be overcome by the sun’s penetrating rays. The same could be said of the rocks, a few of which had been painted red and blue, or the handmade trinkets left by the memorial’s side. One was a wooden carving of a knight; it had lost its elegance over years of wear from rain and snow. When once the fierce intensity of the knight’s gaze was captured in the hardwood figurine, now only the rounded-out form of a Blumaroo’s face remained, devoid of expression.

     Rohane knelt to pick it up while Jeran looked on sullenly. The carver had chosen a sturdy, hearty wood, a good choice to represent his father. He sat beside the monument, turning the figurine in his palm. It had been a gift from one of his father’s good friends, an elderly knight that too had passed since then.

     It had been eons since they had both visited together and saw the list of names etched into the stonework. Not since the memorial ceremony almost seventeen years ago, they realized. Such a remarkably beautiful spring morning it was—a crime, thought Rohane at the time. Why should the sun shine on such a sad day? Even now, he wished it would have rained, would have been cold and breezy and miserable. Then, at least, it could have matched when he and everyone else felt inside.

     Every now and then one of them would find a bouquet of flowers or another rock. Rohane would task himself with removing any weeds that had stubbornly grown near the stone. But always, he noted, it was done alone. Today, there were no new offerings; they had become sparser as time passed. A recent rain had flowed like a river over the sight, carrying with it some mud and clipped grass. The shield-shaped monument had been built on a slight hill, so this happened every now and then. It still looked as strong as ever, but some of the names had been covered, including Sir Reynold. Shelby, chief gardener, would attend to the monument when she could, but this duty would fall by the wayside during the busiest months. Beyond her, it fell to the families to keep it looking nice.

     Wordlessly, Jeran crouched down beside and brushed away the debris. When he read the words, “Sir Reynold: Brave Knight, Loyal and True. Father. Hero,” he turned up both corners of his mouth. Just as quickly, that faded. There had been plenty of other names read aloud that day, his liege was among one of many, but it did not make the pain less real for two young Neopians who had lost a father. Or for Jeran who lost a father-figure.

     Rohane placed the figurine gingerly against the driest side of the monument and took a few paces towards the bright roses that hung alongside the wrap-around fence. Pinching the stem of a particularly robust bloom, he pulled it towards him, plucking it into his hands.

     “You know how Shelby is about those roses,” Jeran said wearily, although he was tempted to do the same. They were all so beautiful now that the summer rains had come. “If she finds out…”

     “I know.”

     The bi-coloured red and blue rose sparkled in the low light from the remains of dew-drops. With care, Rohane moved back the petals so that they looked even fuller, and placed them next to the memorial. After doing this, he crouched down and traced Sir Reynold’s name one letter at a time while Jeran watched.

     “I miss him,” he finally said in a voice strained by held-back tears, before sitting down on the side opposite of Jeran. When Rohane realized how wet the grass was, he instead folded one leg beneath himself and sat atop that.

      “Same.” The Lupe gazed at the grass and tried to keep from breaking down his well-defended wall.

     And for a while, neither knight spoke, only watched as the last gleam of eventide fell beneath the horizon into a starry blanket. Kreludor shone brightly as it expanded from behind a guard tower, illuminating them both. Rohane held a hand over his face to shield his eyes, both of which were wet with tears; Jeran did the same.

     Without turning towards Rohane, Jeran said, “we should probably head back; they’re going to get worried that we beat each other unconscious again.” The Lupe attempted to move his legs, which had since cramped up, “when I can walk. Darn this old injury.”

     “In a few minutes.”

     Rohane had since rested his head on the stone, feeling the warmth of the day slowly disappear from its surface. He closed his eyes and thought about childhood memories, about the times he and his father spent practising the sword together or tending to the garden or travelling to taverns to see his family friends. He wanted these memories to last, but like the stone against his cheek, they too would fade and grow cold.

     Both of them were thankful that none of the night’s watch had caught sight of them. But surely someone would be making their rounds soon.

     “Alright.” Jeran rubbed his sore legs to help alleviate the stiffness. He sighed lightly upon glancing at the rose once again. Before they left, he would have to do the same. The gardener wouldn’t find out, and if she did, he would take the heat. “Are you okay?”

     There were a few seconds of silence. “Yeah.”

     “No, you’re not.” As Jeran’s voice cracked, he added, “because I’m not okay.”

     With a gentle push, Rohane extracted himself from the stone’s surface. He then turned to face Jeran. “You’re right. I’m not okay.” He took a shuddering breath. “We saw my worst fears come to life. We saw my father in a dream that seemed realer than I’ve ever experienced and… now that he’s gone again, I’m feeling things that I’ve stuffed inside myself for more than a decade of my life.” After saying all this, he seemed suddenly exhausted; his head dipped forward as his ears flopped down towards his feet. “Of course, I’m not okay.”

     Jeran picked himself up and placed a comforting hand on Rohane’s shoulder, unsure of what to say. After a few seconds, he made his way to the moon-covered flowers. “We sure have survived a lot, haven’t we?” Giving a solid tug, he pulled a rose off its stem. In the process, his thumb grabbed a thorn. “Ow!” his low bass voice echoed throughout the courtyard. He immediately covered over his mouth.

     “Did you hear something?”

     It was a voice from the guard tower, followed by another, higher voice. “Let’s investigate it.”

     “Dung.” Jeran facepalmed before frantically placing the flower next to its brother. Then he offered his hand to Rohane, who Jeran pulled up, while he grumbled under his breath.

     When the two had safely covered enough distance, Rohane did a double-take, making sure no one was around.

     “Stop it. You’re acting like a criminal.” Jeran crossed his arms. “We picked a flower. It’s not something we’re going to jail over.”

     “It’s not—that’s not why I’m looking,” he whispered harshly, as his ears turned about like radar detectors. “It’s because every time I mention my singing voice someone always listens in. I swear, it’s a curse.”

     “And now you’re sounding paranoid.”

     “It’s not paranoia if it happens every time.”

     “That what happens every time?” It was Lisha. She appeared from around the bend of a quiet street corner from where the day’s merchants had packed up and gone inside their homes. As there had been a chill since the sun went down, she donned an aquamarine mage’s cloak above her casual wear. “I was worried you guys beat each other unconscious again.”

     “Told you,” the knights said to each other, then, “fine.”

     “I see your point, Rohane. That’s really strange.”

     Lisha split her gaze between the two. “Is… everything okay? At least you both seem unharmed.”

     “Yeah,” Jeran lied. “We just had a long, drawn-out match. It was a stalemate.”

     She didn’t seem convinced. “Is that so…”

     “It’s—”

     “Actually, Lisha,” Rohane interrupted before Jeran dug them into another hole, “there’s something I wanted to ask you—to ask both of you. I gave it a lot of thought and wanted to run it past you both.”

     “What?” They answered. Jeran tilted his head at the exact same time as his sister.

     “I was wondering…” he bit his lip, then forced himself to continue, “if you both wanted to take some time off.”

     Jeran raised a hand. “What on—”

     “Please, Jeran, I wasn’t done.” Unused to hearing the word ‘please’ come out of Rohane’s mouth—particularly a please directed towards him—Jeran obliged without comment. “It would be to meet me at a place my family enjoyed, an old tavern called ‘The Junction.’” He took a deep breath to calm his hammering heart. “I’ll send invites to my family, biological and otherwise, so that they can listen, too.”

     “Listen to what?” asked Lisha, although Jeran knew exactly where this was going; his eyes widened in surprise. “Is there a famous bard in town or something?”

     “You could say that,” Rohane grinned wryly, although he was already berating himself for saying any of this out loud.

     A breeze kicked up, causing Lisha to pull in her coat and shiver. “I-I mean, that s-sounds nice, but I’d h-have to check my sched—”

     “We’ll be there,” Jeran said firmly. “Both of us.”

     “We will?”

     “Yes.”

     “Thanks, Jeran.” As Rohane rubbed his face, feeling the panic set in, he continued, “and we’ll just keep it a small gathering for now. Less overwhelming. And if anyone asks… make something up.”

     “Not my strong suit, as you know.”

     “Then tell them you’re meeting my nephew; you’ve never met Darel before.” A rare brightness came to Rohane’s face as his features relaxed. “He’s a great kid, you’ll love him.”

     “Then that’s exactly what I’ll say.” Jeran smiled at seeing his comrade so happy. “Something to look forward to, then.”

     Lisha rose a finger into the air. “Okay, but one thing. What happened? I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m really happy to see you two aren’t, you know, bashing each other with wooden swords until you’re in the infirmary, but…”

     “A very insightful duel,” said Jeran, as Rohane nodded thoughtfully, happy that Jeran could field the prying question, “you can learn a lot about someone from how they fight.”

     ~X~

     Rohane hadn’t predicted on all of the invitation Weewoos returning ‘yes’ answers, but as each Petpet found him, the response was circled—in a few cases emphatically—that they would happily join him at “The Junction.” When Jeran said he’d be leaving for a few days to meet Rohane’s nephew, the knights were overwhelmingly supportive (if not surprised, given the tense rivalry between the two), and Lisha had found an assistant to run the library.

     As Rohane remembered, the old tavern was nothing to write home about based on looks alone. In fact, it grew even more rustic since he had last stepped foot inside over 17 years ago. All of the tables seemed like a mish-mash of worn and repurposed wood, with long, soda-stained benches on either side. Flickering lanterns dotted the wall. A few covered candles sat as centerpieces with mostly melted wax.

     When he, Jeran, and Lisha entered the tavern, a rowdy cheer rose from the guests.

     Almost immediately, a Darigan Ogrin raced over to greet him. Her long, greying mane was covered in ornate braids, bells, and charms. Before Rohane could greet her, she grabbed his hand and shook it strongly, calling his arm to flop around like a fish.

     “My buddy Reynold’s son, coming to my little tavern. You’ve grown so much.” A pointed canine tooth hung over her mouth as she smiled while Rohane grew increasingly uncomfortable from the attention.

     Back when Rohane was a child, the Ogrin was the head chef. With the old owner nowhere in sight, he had to presume that they had since moved on… in one way or another.

     “When you said you wanted to host a party here, I was beyond thrilled.” Her eyes flicked over to the Borodere siblings. “And you must be…”

     Jeran was taken aback by her familiarity and overt friendliness, especially given that she was a Darigan. “I’m…” he straightened his posture, “I’m Sir Borodere. and this is my sister…”

     “Lisha! You can call me Lisha. He’s Jeran, by the way.”

     “Oh, aren’t you the cutest. I’m Peggy,” the tavernkeep said brightly. “I run the ship here with my international crew. Come on in! Plenty of room for everyone.” She clapped twice and a group of Neopians, the now bald-headed Mynci pirate with a checkered Krawk Island bandana tied around his neck, a middle-aged blue Draik with a ponytail, and an older green Ixi with long green hair and a Brightvale scholar’s robe secured tightly with a belt. The employees, now older but certainly the same three as a few decades ago, rose their brows with interest.

     “Aren’t ye Reynold’s son?” asked the Mynci. He nodded, clearly impressed. “You clean up well, laddie.”

     Against his better judgement, Rohane had chosen to wear one of his nicest outfits, which consisted of a restrictive suit top, blazer, and nice trousers. He pulled at the collar, wishing that it offered more breathing space.

     “He has to be.” The Draik cut off Rohane before scanning him up and down. “Well, I’ll be. You look good! Muscular as anything.”

     The Blumaroo’s ears tilted back as he was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

     “Nice to see you again, child,” added the Ixi. “We so enjoyed your—”

     “T-thanks,” interrupted Rohane, laughing nervously while Lisha threw a baffled look at her brother. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

     “Well, of course we do!” the Draik held a soup ladle at her side. “You’re the—”

     “Alright, everyone,” the Darigan clapped her hands, “time we leave this patron alone. Let’s make us some chow.”

     Rohane mouthed the words “thank you” and she responded with a wink.

     Behind her was a conga line of Neopians eagerly awaiting Rohane’s attention, including Mipsy, who was impatiently wiggling like an excited petpet and Talinia, who held Mipsy in place. Velm looked just as eager, but he wasn’t about to barrel over the innkeeper to get there. At the corner of the room, Reuben danced his baby son over the table while his wife, a red Kyrii, gently lowered her husband’s arms. His nephew was all smiles as he snuggled happily in Reuben’s embrace.

     As soon as Peggy stepped away to prep the food, Mipsy was released from Talinia’s grip. She tackled Rohane headlong with a gripping bear hug, causing him to wheeze. Meanwhile, Jeran and Lisha stepped away after uttering a few polite words of greetings to the Heroic Four and found an empty table.

     “Mipsy,” he said between coughs, as he returned the gesture, “your hugs hurt.”

     “I tried to tell her,” said Velm with a shrug that sent his robe slipping back, revealing a long scar, “but she was too excited to listen.” Noticing Rohane’s pointed stare, he quickly smoothed down the garment. “It’s so great to see you, Boss. Room for a bard hug?”

     He waved a hand through Mipsy’s arm. “You already know the answer to that, Velm.”

     While Velm joined the hug pile, Talinia wiped a tear from her eyes. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Captain.”

     “You too, Talinia.” Anyone could tell, these three Neopians lit up his world like few others could. “The four of us—together again,” he said it through a light chuckle, “it’s been a while.”

     “Too long.” She gently added her arms to the equation. “We’ll have to make this an annual gathering.”

     “Yeah,” he agreed. “That would be really nice.”

     Velm poked his head from under Rohane’s arm. “So, I’m guessing you’ll want some entertainment? Lucy and I are ready.”

     “Later,” he said, “that would be nice.”

     The Techo looked confused. “Later? You don’t mean…” excitement crept into his voice as he smiled broadly, “that you—”

     “Later,” Rohane asserted, while the other two looked at each other with girlish grins and let out surprised gasps.

     “Captain? Are you—”

     Mipsy redoubled her squeeze, causing him to cough. “I’m so proud of you!”

     “Hold off on the pride,” he managed, disentangling himself, as a red tint crept into his face. “I have to do it without fainting, first.”

     Rohane motioned towards the Borodere siblings to follow when he approached his brother and sister-in-law. Reuben had his bouncing bundle of joy on his lap, a Kyrii like his mother. He pointed one of the child’s chubby arms towards Rohane. “Look who it is, Darel! It’s your favourite uncle!”

     “His only uncle,” he corrected while giving a little tickle to the child’s stomach. Darel giggled before clapping, making all manner of excited baby noises. “Hi, Andrea,” he greeted her with one hand while the other continued to tickle the child, “is my brother driving you crazy yet?”

     “Not yet,” she said playfully and when her husband feigned offense.

     “And how’s the knight-life, Rohane?” When Reuben winked, Lisha facepalmed and Jeran rolled his eyes.

     “Great,” Rohane deadpanned.

     “I see humour only runs on Reuben’s side of the family,” quipped Jeran, then he turned to shake Reuben’s hand. “Nice to see you again.” He bent down to meet the child’s eyes as his voice jumped an octave. “And nice to meet you as well, Darel.”

     “He’s really adorable,” added Lisha, who had started playing peek-a-boo with the child. Upon opening up her hands, Darel waved around excitedly.

     Soaking in all of the joy was Melissa, Rohane and Reuben’s mother, and her old friend, a retired Darigan Zafara General named Deborah. While Jeran and Lisha cooed over the baby, he gave his mother a gentle hug. “Hello, Mother. Hello, Auntie Deborah.”

     “Hey, scamp,” said the older Darigan while mother and son embraced, “what’s the occasion? You’re looking very nice.”

     “Just wanted to see everyone,” he said, bringing a hand to the back of his sweaty neck. “Nothing special or anything.”

     “Well, that’s just fine.” She clapped his back surprisingly roughly for someone in her mid-70s. “Finally taking after your dad, then?”

     “S-something like that.”

     Melissa couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good to see you looking so strong and healthy, son.” There was a ball of yarn and knitting needles in her lap. She had been halfway to completing a new outfit for the baby.

     “Same to you, Mother. You’re looking healthier than ever.”

     “I’ve been fortunate.” When she smiled, wrinkles spread from under her eyes and cheeks. “And so have you. You’ve made such wonderful, life-long friends.” She made a small wave to Jeran who returned it with a bow. “Goodness, he’s always been so formal with me.”

     “He’s not that way to me,” grumbled Rohane, not that he wanted it to be—that would be strange. But a little more respect wouldn’t hurt.

     “What’s that?” she bent in closer. “My old ears don’t catch everything anymore.”

     “Nothing, Mother,” he said sheepishly, while Jeran’s ears twitched with interest.

     Before long, the excited greetings and meetings and chattering of the guests had simmered while platefuls of delicious food made their rounds.

     Rohane stood up and called attention to the guests. “Hello, everyone.”

     They returned a cacophonous greeting of hellos.

     “I’m so glad to see everyone here today.” He pulled at his collar as his blood pressure rose. Despite being a leader, and a famous one at that, he still never enjoyed the attention that came with public addresses. Everyone turned towards him with interest, including Reuben, who had since passed off his napping son to Andrea. Velm sat on the edge of his seat, his staff leant against his knee as he waited on stand-by with the rest of the Heroic Three. They were a mixture of nervous and excited. “As you all know, my father loved to bring Neopians together to share in each other’s company.”

     A rousing cheer of huzzah came from the kitchen staff as well as from his Auntie Deborah.

     “And part of that… was entertaining them.”

     As soon as he said this, there was a murmur of confusion amongst the guests. Lisha prodded her brother, whispering, “he means Velm, right? I’ve heard him before, he’s really good. Is that why you really wanted to come?”

      Jeran rest his head on his fist. “You’ll see,” he whispered, while smiling proudly at his comrade.

     Lisha followed his line of sight to Rohane and back, then squinted. “You don’t mean…?”

     “And that,” continued Rohane, “is why I wanted to finish something that I started here when I was a child, something… something my father really wanted to see.”

     Reuben had dropped the spoon that he was using for his soup on the table as his mouth hung open. “No way…” he whispered; his face was distraught. “So that’s why you chose this place… It’s where…”

     Picking up on this, Andrea nudged his knee, careful not to wake the baby. “Reuben? You okay, honey?” When Reuben began to tear up, she took hold of his arm. “Reuben?”

     “It’s a good thing,” he whispered while quickly stealing away the tears, drawing the attention of those around. “It’s… oh, Rohane…”

     Feeling the stares of the crowd, Rohane closed his eyes and took a long, stuttering breath. “Okay,” he said quietly, mostly to himself, “this is for you, Father.”

     Meridell, we sing to thee

     Grant us safe journey we plea

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     Meridell, guide with your light

     Through the dark, embrace the bright

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     Rohane opened one eye as he steadied himself. His heart was hammering in his ears as the world seemed to fade. Everyone was sitting in amazement, all except Jeran, who had nodded his approval upon their locked gaze, and the Heroic Three, who were anxiously watching for the slightest indication that he might drop. They looked happy for him, at least. He pushed through the fear, singing the final verse twice as strong as before.

     Meridell, best land of all

     With your flag waving so tall

     Stand with us through night and rain

     Forever more shall you reign

     The kitchen staff took no hesitation in their shouts of approval.

     “Good on ya, laddie!” exclaimed the Mynci pirate to an otherwise stunned room.

     Lisha nearly fell out of her seat. After silently gesturing towards the Blumaroo, then back to Jeran, then back to the Blumaroo, she finally sputtered out her first word: “What?”

     “Yup.”

     “You knew?!”

     “For a bit.” He shrugged lightly, a bite of jealousy in his voice. “Not at all fair, but hey.”

     “But how is—how is he so—”

     “Beats me.”

     Across the tavern, mesmerized tavern guests broke from their spells and rose a standing ovation. Meanwhile, Melissa had all but collapsed in her friend’s arms, her hand covering her mouth as she cried tears of joy. Darel woke up mid-song, and was transfixed by it, as were his parents.

     “Did you know?” Andrea asked, as goose pimples covered her fur. Her baby insisted on jumping off her lap to see his uncle, a desire that was heartily denied by his mother. “No jumping to the floor, young man,” she chided, while the baby continued to fuss.

      “Kind of, but I…” his heart ached as he continued, “I made fun of him as a kid because I was jealous.” Reuben continued to wipe away the flowing tears. “I’ve regretted saying it for years; he hadn’t sung since, not even before father…” he didn’t dare say the next word. “It was all my fault, Andrea.”

     “Oh, Reuben…” she squeezed his hand. “You didn’t know…”

     “But I did,” he sighed, before taking hold of the eager child. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think he’d ever sing again.”

     She directed him back towards his brother. “But just look at him now.”

     “Yeah…” he said it in awe as tears stopped. “My little brother’s pretty amazing.”

     It was almost overwhelming, the amount of praise. Rohane did not expect half this much, let alone a standing ovation. Having done the deed, his legs felt like jelly. As he felt himself falling back, a strong hand steadied him. The light crackling of Mipsy’s haste spell billowed from Velm’s sandals as he raced to the swordsman side. Feeling faint, Rohane slumped on the cleric’s shoulders as Velm and now Talinia helped him to a nearby bench. Mipsy followed closely behind.

      “You did good, Boss,” Velm whispered. “So, so good.”

     “You think?”

     “We know,” answered Talinia, as she grabbed a cup of water that was fetched by the kitchen staff and eagerly handed it to him. “We’re so proud of you.”

     “So proud,” echoed Mipsy. “You’re amazing!”

     “Thanks, guys.” He took greedy gulps of the water before wiping off his mouth. Within moments, almost the entire room’s worth of Neopians excitedly surrounded him, barraging him with praise. He sunk into the bench, wishing that it led to a secret hideaway where he could decompress.

      “Where did you learn how to sing that well?”

     “Did your father teach you?”

     “Is it a natural talent or—”

     “Hey.” Jeran parted the crowd with his presence alone. “It’s time we give Sir Rohane a break, don’t you think?”

     Velm slid in front of Rohane as well, blocking their advance. Talinia and Mipsy also hovered nearby. “And while our brave hero relaxes, why don’t we let the dynamic duo, the great and magnificent Lucy and her partner Velm, regale you with fantastic folk tunes from around the world?”

     Between Jeran’s assertiveness and Velm’s charisma, the tavern guests filtered back to their seats.

     The Blumaroo felt like he could finally breathe again once the crowd dispersed. “Thank you for that. Both of you.”

     “Sure.”

     “Not a problem, Boss.” He strummed an ornate lute. “She’s singing beautifully tonight,” he said, before matching her pitch with a hum. “Why don’t you let us take over for now? Tag in when you want—or we can do it together, your call.”

     Rohane balanced his head on his hands. “We’ll see. How you do this for hours is beyond me.”

     “It takes practice,” Velm leaned on his fighting staff. “You’ll get there, but do it at your own pace, in steps that make you feel confident and comfortable.”

     He held a hand over his face, his eyes flicking up to meet Velm’s through his open fingers. “Thanks, Velm. It’s a work in progress but I want to try.”

     “And trying is enough.” He gave his leader a pat. “More than enough. Everything you do, we’ll be supporting you every step of the way.”

     “Every step,” echoed Mipsy.

     “And whatever you do, Captain, we’re happy for you.”

     Before he could reply, Auntie Deborah called out to him. She was leading Rohane’s mother across the room. “Hey, scamp! You’re a chip off the old block, you know that?”

     “I…” it looked as if his brain was overloading from all the combined compliments. “Thank you.”

     “Your father would be so proud.” With the Darigan providing support, Melissa had waddled her way through the crowd. She sniffled back tears as she spoke. “When I heard your voice, it reminded me so much of his that I… that I…” Lifting a handkerchief from her handbag, she dabbed her eyes.

     “Mother…” his ears sagged. “I didn’t mean to make you feel sad.”

     “Sad? It made me the happiest Neopian alive. I’m blessed to have such talented, compassionate sons.”

     The two shared a tearful hug before she sat back down and returned to her knitting.

     “At least after this, everything else is going to seem like a cakewalk, right?” asked Mipsy. “How much harder can things get than Rohane overcoming his fear of singing?”

     “I didn’t overcome it,” he said quickly, “and you know how things go with us. If trouble’s anywhere, it’ll find us.”

     “Even in paradise,” said Mipsy with a shrug.

     “Speaking of that…” his eyes darted to Velm’s shoulder while he sang a merry tune about the adventures of a brave knight. “What happened? He’s been favouring his left arm since we got here.”

     “That’s…” Mipsy hesitated, “a story for another time. For now, let’s celebrate today.”

     A slightly taller, slightly older white Blumaroo barged in and went straight for a crushing hug. “I like Mipsy’s train of thought. No sad stuff today; only friends, family, and my ridiculously talented little brother.”

     Rohane exhaled lightly, long ago accepting that he was yet another Neopian who crushed his lungs to show affection. “Am I even better than a wet Meowclops?”

     Reuben visibly winced. “Oof. I’m really, really sorry about that. As I kid, I was really jealous of—”

     “I know.” Rohane paused. “Or I know now, at least. I think I’ve moved on from it thanks to Kayla.”

     “Kayla…” Reuben turned his gaze to the ceiling. “Is that the star-covered Zafara with bubbly exuberance and chaotic good tendencies?”

     “That’s her.”

     “Seems pretty spot-on,” confirmed Lisha, who had since shuffled over.

     “Did she hypnotize you somehow, bro? Because if you need a big, strong, older brother to go into your brain and fix things, I’ll do it.”

     Both knights shared a look. “It was more like… an accidental dream odyssey,” stated Jeran. “A really weird one. Because seriously, Rohane. Your dreams are like a multi-world map.”

     “Can’t help it if I’ve travelled everywhere.”

     “Dream… odyssey?” Reuben rose a brow. “Well, now I need to know the details.”

     “I hope you’ve got a free afternoon,” Jeran looked him dead in the eyes, “because we’re going to need it to explain everything.”

     “Maybe two afternoons,” added Lisha. “A whole bunch happened outside the dream, too.”

     “And among the three of us,” said Rohane with a smirk, “this story is going to get pretty surreal.”

     ~The End.~

     Author's note: a huge thank you to the Neopians who inspire me to write. To Kat and Liou, you're the best!