Chapter 2 - Lara Lewis

Pan turned out to be wrong and Nanna right as usual. She slept forever, just like she said she would. If only he knew that would have been the last conversation.

  'No, she wouldn't want to see me mulling it over, Nanna would probably say something like. Regret is a cruel little thing that clings closer to our hearts every time we look back, so look ahead Pan, she'd say. Look ahead.' Thought Pan.

 "I'm so sorry Pan. Lara was an exceptional woman. May she rest in peace," said Ana, Ava's mother, snapping Pan out of his reverie.

 She wore white robes, just like everyone else, for it symbolized light as well as salt.

 "Thanks for coming," he replied after a moment, sadness in his voice.

 He was so used to affectionately calling her grandma for a lifetime, that hearing others call her Lara always made it sound strange.

 "Hello Pan, my condolences," Ava said from behind her mother, before reaching down and stroking Derek's hair.

 Derek didn't cry. Maybe he hasn't sunk in, or maybe he's too young to understand what's going on around him and maybe it's for the best.

 "Hello Ava, thanks for coming," Pan replied with a forced smile.

 Ava and Ana were the last people at the funeral, not many came to begin with. Lara was an elderly woman and most of the friends she knew in life are gone.

 "You should go rest," Ana said.

 "I will in a moment," replied Pan with his eyes on the headstone.

 'Here rest Lara Lewis, loving wife, exemplary mother and grandmother.'

 Nanna used to tell Pan that long, difficult lines were the stuff of egocentric nobles. So he decided to keep her epilogue and her gist in a nutshell, love and example was what she gave him as it was all he needed.

 Ana looked at Derek and then at Pan, letting a wistful, barely audible sigh escape before departing with Ava.

 Pan left a few moments later, wishing he had stayed longer, but the ensuing rain made him leave.

 'She wouldn't like to see me sick... Rain... In her many stories, grandmother used to say that the heavens cry for the good souls that are gone.' Thought Pan.

 And for the first time since he was a boy, Pan believed.

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 But life doesn't give a damn about Pan's grief, on the contrary, the work on the dock became unbearable in the weeks that followed. Carrying salt is hard work, even through the bags it dries, burns and injures the skin, the rain also hasn't stopped in these weeks, making the already problematic task of standing on the boats a challenge. Pan had lost count of how many bruises he'd gained by falling.

 "Hey Pan, the next bag you drop will be taken out of your pocket," declared Richard, his employer.

 'This turd keeps acting as if it were simple to load twenty kilos of salt on a boat more troubled than the private life of a nobleman. Even if he himself is barely able to balance his own pants.' Thought Pan.

 "Yes sir," was what he replied.

 He was a piece of shit, but one who paid his salary and pride is a privilege for those in power.

 After finishing the day at the docks, Pan headed for the commercial district, then entered the "health, hope and light" store which, contrary to its pompous name, was the worst apothecary in Lark lands, not that it had, or could, opt for anything better anyway.

 "How are you today, Pan?" Asked Pedro, a fat "healer" with a smile full of rotten teeth.

 "Same as always," Pan cut straight to the point, while wondering again how much the fat man spent on delicacies like candy to have teeth like this.

 "Taciturn as usual, hm?" Peter replied putting a bag of ointment on the counter, which Pan acted by putting some copper coins as payment.

 "Do you know the good news?" He said pulling the ointment back so that Pan could pay attention to his rambling. "The Order has advanced the selection, in a week's time there will be a test for cross-apprentices, for all youths from fourteen to eighteen, those who miss will be subject to punishment."

 The sudden news made Pan frown. The work of a crusader, while it came with many benefits, was dangerous, cruel, and miserable. But that's not the problem, after all hardly anyone is eligible for the position. But he will have to miss work.

 'Tsk, as petty as my employer, he's likely to take a lot out of 'misconduct' but bearing the Order's punishments would be even worse.' He thought.

 Some have tried to avoid the Order, tried to hide, or run away, but somehow they always get caught. Pan felt a headache coming on.

 Three days after the apothecary warned him, there was an official announcement and four days after the announcement he was gathered in the square with several other young people, fear, anxiety and expectation filling the atmosphere.  Which he thought was a huge exaggeration if anyone asked.  After all, one in a hundred were selected.

 The ceremony looked just like the one he had witnessed as a boy. Young people of all castes were huddled together, their robes being the only thing that distinguished a good-born from a bad-born. A platform was set up in the center of the square. Pan couldn't tell what material it was made of, but it probably had a lot of salt and was so white and polished that it reflected light like a mirror.

 There were two columns on either side at the bottom of the stairs and beyond them was a large silver stone with scriptures he couldn't identify.

 Beside the large stone standing vertically were the crusaders, their armor was a dull silver with white details, a few had other shades such as blue or red. People would gossip here and there that the color changed according to the alignment of the essence.

 The young people were gathered in a circular place demarcated in front of the platform, while the relatives and curious spectators could observe from wherever they thought best, contact that did not interfere. The square was huge and every city relevant to the Order had one like it.

 "Hello, young men of Lark, I am Leopold, a master Crusader," announced in a firm voice a man who stepped ahead of the other Crusaders, causing the crowd to silence their conversations. "You must be wondering why the order advanced the selection."

 He asked and the crowd shook their heads, especially those eighteen-year-olds who would have been free from this whole event if it hadn't been brought forward.

 "Well, the reason for this advance is because… Ortea fell," he announced to the crowd that, after a moment of silence, understood the terror of the news given.

 The anxious, the curious, the nervous, and the bored now had only despair on their faces.  What was Ortea?  It was one of the Order's five largest ruling cities, the center of the lands of Omeria.