Dance of the Damned

Leave Them Be

"Have a seat." Philip pulled out chairs for the two as he walked to his pot and added a little more ingredients to it. "Briar, could you hand me some dried pig skin?"

"Ok," Briar said, walking to the wall of dried meat and picked the port, pulling some pieces of meat out and handing them to Philip.

"Thank you." He said, chopping up some herbs and vegetables as the smell whiffed all around the room.

"I like your house, Philip," Micah said, feeling the bump on the wooden table in front of him, and the walls around him, each dent and rough surface making him smile.

"This house is nothing when compared to yours," Philip said as Briar took his seat next to Micah.

"But it is home," Micah said softly, hand on top of the table. "I wonder why it feels so much like home, more than that place."

"Briar and Philip exchanged looks before turning to Micah.

"Is everything ok, over in that house, young master?" Philip asked, walking to Micah. "You know you can tell me anything."

"I know," Micah said, sighing before a smile broke on his face. "It just feels a little empty in the house. That is all."

"Well, your uncle is being called to the office more frequently and for longer hours," Briar said, thinking. "And you aunt is in a world of her own right now."

"I wonder why," Micah said, fiddling with his shirt. "After the attack, it seems like they are avoiding me completely." DO they ... do you think they think of me as ... unlucky?"

"Why would they ever think that?" Philip asked as a frown came on Briar's face.

"Stupid people." He mumbled under his breath, father not hearing.

"It ... it is just a thought," Micah said shaking his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ask things like that."

"Cheer up, young master." Philip placed his hand on the boy's cheeks and smiled softly. "Know that there are people here that love and cherish you so much."

"Are you one of them, Philip?" Micah looked up at the man, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

"Yes!" Philip said brightly. "No matter what, I am on your side and will always be on your side. So don't you worry about a thing."

"And ... Bradie?" Micah turned to the boy, resting his head in his hands as he looked at him, annoyed.

"Of course I am on your side." He scoffed. "For you to even THINK that I am not. Goodness."

"Sorry." Micah smiled softly. "But I am happy you confirmed it with me. You, Philip and Nanny Elise are my family!"

"You bet we are," Briar said with a proud smile on his face. "So ... rely on your family a little more! i***t!"

"I will remember that, Bradie."

“Stew is ready!” Philip said, carrying the large pot to the table. “Briar, the bowls please and young master, could you bring me the herbs?”

“Ok!” Micah got to his feet and walked with careful steps to the wall lined with herbs on strings.

Briar watched him carefully as Micah felt each herb with his hand, bringing them to his nose and either plucking the leaves or leaving them be.

“Don’t worry about him, Briar.” His father said, looking at him from the corner of his eyes. “The young master is much more capable than most people would admit.”

“I know,” Briar said, taking the bowls from the cupboard. “I know even better than you. I was just making sure he picked the right herbs.”

“You don’t even know them by sight.” His father laughed at a flustered Briar who shoved the bowls to him.

“Whatever.” He said, sitting on the chair, turning from his father.

“I am proud of you, Briar,” Philip said out of nowhere, pouring the stew into the bowls. “You truly are the apple of my eye.”

“Why are you so cheesy today?” he scoffed, trying to hide his smile. “Micah! Are you about to be done?”

“Done!” Micah said, holding the leaves out and making his way to them. “What do you think, Philip?”

Philip inspected the leaves and then nodded happily, “You got the right ones, young master. Outstanding job.”

“Thank you,” Micah said, holding a leaf to his nose. “I think my sense of smell has grown stronger.”

“So has your hearing,” Briar said, placing a bowl of stew in front of Micah and began blowing it for him. “You told me that last time, right?”

“You remembered,” Micah said happily.

“Why would I forget that?!” Briar scoffed, still blowing at the stew while Philip pulled out bread from the oven, placing them on a basket.

He placed the basket in the centre of the table and pulled out a chair for himself as he watched Micah talking to Briar while the other boy tried the stew to make sure it was not too hot. A soft smile came on his face watching the two.

____________________

“I hate soup,” Philip remembered Kail complaining. He got so sick he could not even move but he still had the strength to be picky.

“You need to have some to get better.” He tried to insist that he eat but Kail was having none of it.

This was a strange sickness that took over everyone in the academy, many students died that week alone. Since Philip did not live in the academy, he stayed at home for a while.

Until he got a letter from Kail stating that he contracted the sickness and told me to stay away. As you can imagine, he did not stay away.

With the blessings of his mother, Philip went to the academy and began to take care of Kail, much to his protests. Perhaps, he had hoped that if he was difficult to deal with, Philip would give up and leave him.

But that had the opposite effect. Philip was even more determined to take care of him the more stubborn he was and he had to give in, in the end.

He got worse later that day and Philip was busy taking care of him. The good thing about that was that Kail was too weak to resist against taking the soup. But that means he was also too weak to have it himself.

So Philip blew on every spoon before making the boy drink it. It took more than an hour just to finish a bowl of soup but he finished it in the end.

“Your soup,” Kail said, hardly able to open his eyes as he turned to Philip, the wet cloth on his burning head. “It’s- it’s good.”

“Then you should eat more of it,” Philip said, checking his temperature with his hands.

“Thank you,” Kail said, sweat dripping down his face as he smiled at his friend.

“You can thank me by getting better.” Philip wiped his face with the cloth, dipping it in the water again.

“You always make the most outlandish demands.” Kail chuckled, growing weaker.

“And you always fulfil them.”

“I can’t argue against that.” Kail groaned in pain. “Fine, I will get better. Watch me.”

As soon as Kail said those words, it turned into the most difficult month of his life as he kept growing worse. Even more than all the other students.

But he fought on, taking his medicines on time and trying to keep active, even if only barely so that he would have some kind of strength.

“I will get better, Philip. So stop making that face.” He would say with full conviction to the boy.

But from him to see his friend grow thinner until he looked like a skeleton, not even able to move his fingers or head anymore, he had to prepare for the worst.

His guilt, however, would not allow him to accept that that might be the end of his dear friend. And Kail’s constant reassurance put some hope into his desperate mind.

The sickness was too strong and the medicines, no matter how expensive, were completely useless by that point.

It was not until he stood in front of Kail’s lifeless body that he realised there was no hope from the start.

There was … no walking out of this alive.

____________________

Philip shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his mind. I remembered something unpleasant.

“Here you go,” Briar said, placing the soup in front of Micah who started eating almost immediately. “Eat slowly. You are going to choke.”

“Sorry. I just missed Philip’s stew so much.” Micah said with a grin.

"I am honoured you think that, young master." Philip smiled at the boy as Briar placed the loaf of bread in front of him.

He certainly takes after his father. He thought, looking at Micah. The resemblance is uncanny, though his personality has to be a lot different when compared to him.

I suppose that is a good thing. For his sake.