Meeting Father II

Rashan cleared his throat, as if gathering his thoughts. "I could make maps like this," he said, reaching for the packet he had set aside. He offered it to his father.

His father didn't respond immediately, simply taking the documents and unfolding them with casual interest. At first, his expression remained neutral, his gaze scanning the parchment. But as the seconds passed, his focus sharpened. The casual glance became something more serious.

"Navigation charts?" his father asked, his tone carrying weight now.

"Yes, Father."

There was no immediate response, no further questions—just silence as his father continued examining the work. Rashan waited, watching the way his father's gaze moved, the way his brows furrowed slightly in thought. Minutes passed. Five. Ten.

Then, unexpectedly, his father stood up and walked to one of the nearby shelves. He pulled down a few different maps—some well-worn, others crisp—and a log journal that looked like it had seen years of use.

When he turned back to Rashan, his expression was unreadable, but his voice was different—lower, more deliberate.

"My son, this is…" His father actually hesitated, something Rashan had almost never seen. He looked… speechless.

"What are these methods you've used here?" He tapped the parchment with his fingers. "Explain this to me."

Rashan straightened slightly, glancing at the maps his father had pulled out before shifting his focus back to his own work.

"These are navigation charts, but more refined than traditional maps," he began. "Most maps are static—they show land, cities, and landmarks, but they don't account for movement. My charts incorporate navigational markers and reference points that sailors and travelers can use in real time."

He pointed at a section of his work. "Here, for example. Instead of just plotting distances, I've used coordinate-style markers based on observable celestial bodies—primarily the moons and stars. With proper measurements and tools, you can use them to determine your exact position rather than relying solely on landmarks or guesswork."

His father glanced down at the logbook he had retrieved, flipping through its pages.

"And these lines?" he asked, motioning toward another section.

"Trade winds," Rashan answered. "Current patterns. It's not just about knowing where land is—it's about understanding the conditions that affect travel. If we track wind patterns over time, we can predict optimal routes for ships. It would reduce travel time, improve efficiency, and—"

"—prevent unnecessary risks," his father finished, eyes narrowing in thought. He nodded slowly.

Rashan leaned forward slightly, sensing his father was following. "Exactly. Right now, merchants and sailors rely mostly on past experiences and general knowledge. But if they had something like this, a proper system to follow, it would make trade far more reliable. And not just for the sea—this could be used for land caravans as well."

His father was silent for a long moment, staring at the charts again, fingers running absently over the parchment.

Then, finally, he exhaled and looked at Rashan with something different in his gaze—not just interest, but calculated understanding.

"My son… you may not yet realize it, but what you have made here is invaluable."

His father suddenly laughed, shaking his head. "What am I saying? I'm sure you do realize."

Then, to Rashan's surprise, his father looked at him seriously. "May I keep this?"

Ugh. His father was asking him? That was new.

Rashan hesitated for a moment. "Umm, well, it's still rough. There are optimizations I'd like to make before it's finished."

His father nodded, still studying the document. "When will it be done?"

Wait… was his father excited? That wasn't something he expected.

"Maybe a month or two?" Rashan replied, still feeling a little thrown off by the conversation's turn.

His father barely even paused. "Do you have another rough draft you do not need?"

"Yes," Rashan answered, recovering quickly.

"Bring it to me later."

"Of course, Father."

His father leaned back slightly, eyes still flicking over the charts, fingers tapping absently against the edge of the table. "Additionally, your stipend will be increased by three."

Rashan blinked. That was unexpected—but he wasn't about to complain.

Stipend. Allowance. More money. Nice.

His father set the maps aside, exhaling slightly before his expression shifted into something more thoughtful. "I was going to surprise you on your name day—your ninth summer. But now is as good a time as any."

Rashan straightened slightly, intrigued. His father didn't gift things lightly.

"When I was in the Imperial Army, I had a good comrade, a Battlemage much older than I was."

His father's gaze seemed to drift for a moment, as if remembering something distant. "He is retiring now. We have stayed in contact over the years, and he has no living family."

Rashan listened carefully, already feeling anticipation rise in his chest.

"I have offered him a place in our home and asked him to teach my son his ways." His father met Rashan's eyes directly. "He has agreed. He will arrive next month."

Yes!

Rashan didn't even think—he surged forward and hugged his father.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

His father let out a full, hearty laugh, the kind Rashan rarely heard. "I have never seen you this excited before, my son."

Rashan pulled back, still grinning. "Thank you so much."

His father gave a rare smile in return. "You have earned this, my son."

The excitement still pulsed through Rashan, but he took a deep breath, steadying himself. There was one more thing.

"Actually, Father, I have a request. Can I make Jalil my full-time attendant? He goes where I go."

His father didn't even hesitate. "Let it be so."

Just like that.

After that, they sat back, drank a little more coffee, and the conversation drifted toward small talk. Rashan found himself relaxing, letting the weight of the moment settle in.

He realized even if he could have, he wouldnt have regressed today. Some things were just better left as they were.